In which we Holla! in Holland. Part III.

 

 

And now for a color explosion of Wonka-esque proportions! The Keukenhof, open only two months of the year, proclaims itself to be "the most beautiful spring garden in the world"-- it's right there on the website. As I have not yet had the pleasure of viewing all the spring gardens on this fine planet (and I doubt the Keukenhofers have either), I am in no place to judge. Howeeeever, it was certainly smashing enough to be worthy of protective goggles. The boasting continues with 32 hectars, 7 million bulbs in 1600 varieties, 15 kilometers of footpaths, etc, etc, and interestingly enough, 30 male gardeners and 1 female gardener. Why in the world this gender ratio is so skewed and why they decided to scrawl it on their menu of superlatives is a mystery to me, but in any case, a sunny spring afternoon strolling in this bloomy queendom with fine company is certainly a juicy treat for the eyes and a scrumptious nugget of color-kapow for the soul. If flowers are yer thing, that is.

 

The humdrum lurking in my innards as the clouds accompanied us on our way to Tulip Mecca slowly turned to yumyum as the fields started blushing.

 

 

And then, and then! Tulips.

 

 

 Tulips & Friends, rather. 

 

Rivers of them.



 

Striped and spotted, in spots and stripes.

 

Floofy ones and fluffy ones, jagged and jigged. All of them with their own special names, such as "Fabio" and "Hotpants".

 

Chopin was there, too, though the reason for his presence there was all Dutch to me.

 

 

The surprise P.S. of this excursion came in the form of the Big Blue, splooshing and sparkling in the evening sun like a giant, watery gem at the end of the rainbow.

You've already seen how the end of this jaunt jaunted. Oh, the yum, the yum, the colors, the sea and the yum. Thanks again to the friends who made it possible, and to the Mutti for the joy of oggling.

In which we Holla! in Holland. Part II.

The next morning was set aside for city (ha, first spelled "sitty" -- I can english!) cramming. We awoke to a wild array of architecture over the waters, hopped from one boat to another and did some canal-heavy touristing around and around the Amsterdam. All the quaint little houseboats were fun to observe with their many deck gardens and flowerdy curtains, occasionally with wee faces peeking out from behind them. One fun architectural fact the Bodiless Roboguide shared was that many houses were built with large windows on the ground floor and increasingly smaller windows going up, thus creating the optical illusion of extra-tallness. Another oddity I noticed was that black was a regular house color. In my mind, black houses are usually associated with witches, hauntedness, or Harry Potter, and not cosy, aristocratic dwellings.

The minds of the parentals were blown again and again by the sheer magnitude of Amsterdam’s bicycle population. Multi-storied parking garages for these two-wheeled beasts could be found all over, and all of them full and overflowing. The Bodiless Roboguide said there were over 9000 bikes parked outside the central station daily. We found that pretty believable.

Amsterdwellings were generally very efficient when it came to wall space and doors. Most tall and skinny city homes were able to pack three tall and skinny doors into places where one would normally find just one, thanks in part to tall and skinny staircases.

Back on land, my priority mission was to v-line it to the red heart of the light district for the 2012 World Press Photo Exhibition in the city’s oldest building, the Ould Kerk. Oh man, there are some crazy things going on in the world and some shutterbugs have crazy good timing with their trigger fingers.

Once we all scraped our jaws off the old stone floor, we headed back into the daylight for more wandering, followed by a wonderfully colorful adventure (and I mean all sorts of colors) that very much deserves its own post (--so stay tuned!). This adventure involved not being in Amsterdam for many hours, after which we returned in the midst of dramatic sun setting and partook in what I am certain will remain one of the most incredible meals in our respective lifetimes. Full of course after course of unbelievable delicious rememberings, we snuggled back into our softly-swaying beds and digested our way happily through the night.

The next morning came with much rain and many trains down Memory Lane.   

(For the record, the majority of my August is taking place in cars, tents, sleeping bags, and hammocks down the coasts of France and Spain. Internet access is seldom to be found in these parts, hence the lack of general communication on my part. I'll be back in Hamburg in early September. Oh, the road trip photos to be shared!)