Sanctuary Of Random Keystrokes

Each weekend we try to find a new place in The Netherlands to visit. There have been weekends when something interesting in Amsterdam has kept us back, but with days as long as they are at this time of the year¹ and with our newly acquired off-peak hour discount passes bringing in big savings on train fares², the incentive to get out is very strong.

Two weeks ago we went to Delft. We see a lot of shops selling Delftware in Amsterdam and were quite keen to see the place where it all began.

Most cities here are very similar in their planning. The city center is a short walk from the train station. This is where you’ll typically find at least one centuries old church, an equally old (or older) town hall and the main market. While the high streets are unapologetically homogenous with the same handful of big-name brands, on weekends, the farmers’ markets in these cities make things interesting.

We started our trip with a relaxed brunch. It was a sunny day but the wind was a lot stronger and cooler than we had anticipated. Still, a tepid cappuccino is a small price to pay for a meal outdoors under the trees.

The stray notes of a string quartet practicing inside the town’s church pulled us in. The acoustics of a church are an integral part of its architecture. While they favour choirs and organs, they are often kind to bowed instruments as well. I could have sat there listening to the quartet ready their piece measure by measure all day long.

Delft, much like other Dutch cities we have seen so far, has a network of canals that run through the streets. But canals (lovely as they were) weren’t what we were here for. We had come to Delft hoping to find hundreds of small shops in every nook and corner selling the signature blue-on-white porcelain. Either our expectations were bizarre or we were looking in the wrong place because we didn’t see very many of those.

We looked up the street signs to the official Royal Delft museum. On the way we came across some beautiful houses some of which had tiny lawns in front while others made do with rows potted plants along the perimeter. We saw roses that were cared for, matched on every step by tens of species of tiny flowers that seemed to revel in the fact that they didn’t need caring for.

The Royal Delft museum’s shop had some very fine Delftware. There were a lot of pieces in colours other than blue too. Goes without saying that it all cost so much that I wouldn’t want to be the proverbial bull in this particular china shop. Perhaps one day we’ll visit again with the means and the intent of buying something – but then the chances are if we had the means, they’ll be diverted to the family travel fund.

p.s. Since coming back, the world “Help!” in The Beatle’s song “Help!”, gets replaced in my head with “Delft!” – “Delft! I need somebody!”

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1. The sunset today is at 9:47 PM. I am told days will get even longer.
2. ns.nl offers an annual off-peak subscription for 55€ that gets you upto 40% off when you travel after 9:00 AM on weekdays or anytime on weekends.

The Dutch pronounce V like “Fa” and so for the longest time we didn’t know if the Indian chap gallantly manning the reception on Sundays was Faisal or Vishal. But that’s not important. What’s important is that he agreed to print our “combi-ticket” to Keukenhof.

Armed with the printouts we landed at the designated bus stop outside Schiphol to board our bus. This being the peak season, the bus only had standing room and in a short while, not even that. We were making this trip exactly the day after we had landed in Amsterdam. The fact that Netherlands has left hand drive hadn’t sunk in yet. Each time a car would overtake us, the passenger next to the driver would inadvertently be looking at the colourful spectacle of jam-packed tourists that was our bus. “Why isn’t he/she looking at the road!” my heart would whisper to me and skip a beat.

Well, one doesn’t visit Keukenhof for stories. One goes there for the pictures. And here they are:

The long, hard mountain drives were beginning to tell on us. Our destination the next day was to be Tsomoriri lake, with a short detour to Tsokar lake thrown in. But the very thought of the seven hour drive gave us cold feet (and it wasn’t even winters yet – ok bad joke). We decided that a vacation that would require another vacation to recover from wasn’t worth it at all. So we spent the next two days in Leh – taking leisurly walks to the market, shopping for a souvenir or two, sampling different cuisines, and reading books borrowed from the guest house’s reasonably well-stocked library over a cup of ginger honey tea in the evenings.

Of course, I spent a good deal of time photographing flowers at our guest house’s garden – something I’d been yearning to do since the day we arrived here.

Soon the morning of our departure to Delhi arrived. Our visit to Ladakh had been full of pleasant surprises, but one last surprise awaited us yet – His Highness The Dalai Lama was on the same flight as us! It caused quite a stir amidst the passengers. Everyone wanted a picture of or with him, some others wanted his autographs – a few pulled out a book written by him, while others grabbed whatever surface a pen would leave ink on. The Dalai Lama made sure that everyone got a chance – he walked all the way to the last seat greeting everyone and doing the best he could to give everyone an opportunity to take a photo.

Nice, law abiding citizens that we are, we had checked in our cameras’ batteries into our check-in baggage. No one at the airport had seemed to know what the correct policy was – the airline staff and the security staff had had contradicting views so it had seemed best to not carry the batteries on board. But given the number of functional cameras we saw being fished out, it would probably have been alright had we taken them with us.

The wife had taken the window seat this time. But it was impossible to not crane my neck and peer through her window for one last look at the beautiful Himalayas.