Den Haag & vicinity, The Netherlands

"There is no blue without yellow and without orange."

I am presently sipping some strange flowery tea in a rooftop garden, overlooking the mess of canals that composes the Utrecht city center. The Dom Tower stands imposingly against a cloudless cerulean sky, the gentle air is cool and smells faintly of coffee from the café below. It's 2:30pm on a Thursday, and things are quite good.



Den Haag has been my home for the last few days, but it's not a particularly interesting one. I've come to realize a (perhaps obvious) peculiarity of my wanderings - most places are just places. Most parts of most cities are there to provide mundane services to residents who pass by them every day, and hold very little for someone like me. These places are certainly not without their own character or charms, but there is far less interest or photographic opportunity in these concrete canals than what Amsterdam presented me.

Fortunately, the train system around here is even more comprehensive and affordable than I'd expected, so I've spent my days exploring the nearby cities of Leiden, Lisse and Utrecht, returning in the evening for the blandly seedy nightlife of The Hague.



So I wanted to see tulips. Lots of tulips. After a bit of research, I decided to go to Keukenhof Park, a huge botanical garden said to provide a high percentage of the region's available flowers - a flower farm, basically.

Now, don't get me wrong. It was pretty. Kind of like Disneyland, really - except all the rides are flower arrangements and all the kids are in their 70s. I enjoyed it for a brief time, and then realized that this was all I was getting. No expansive fields of flowers, no infinity of tulips. Just one delicately arranged floral presentation after another, and lots of slow-moving tourists.

Now, I'm not dumb - these flowers gotta come from somewhere nearby, I say to myself. Following that thought, I did what Americans do best. I broke the rules and took what I wanted.

A few kilometers down an unmarked dirt road outside the park led me to a sheltered plantation. There were no signs (that I could read) telling me not to enter, so I ventured farther and suddenly found myself standing amidst a rainbowed vista of fields. In every direction were huge rectangles of color, which only registered as flowers when I really looked closely. It was like standing on an artist's palette, surrounded by endless color. Smelled nice too.

I got exactly what I wanted - something I had never seen before, and an entire card of great photos. Again, wandering off the common path has served me well. I've been thinking about that quite a lot lately. So far all I can formulate is "wandering: good".



I've been following the footsteps of the local artists as best I can. Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Ruisdael, Vermeer - I'd like to think I have begun to glimpse what they might have seen and used for inspiration in these places.

There is a unique quality and characteristic to the light around here. I first noticed it in Leiden, and then continuously ever since. The best means by which I can describe it is that all things seems to play in the sunlight; everything reflects everything else, and the results are these amazing shimmering patterns of light that spread across the entire city, appearing and vanishing as the day changes. From the canals to the high windows to the light-painted walls, and even the stonework - there are caustics and obscured light casts everywhere.

Often reflected multiple times off varied surfaces, they become abstract shapes and strange swirls of color, their origins left enigmatic or completely obscured. Be it brilliant urban planning or proximity to Icelandic magic, I can't say - but I begin to imagine what those artists may have seen and considered while living here. It becomes easy to imagine how someone like Rembrandt would quickly become obsessed with dynamic lighting and reflection in this place. I'm certainly enjoying it from a photographic standpoint.



Utrecht's highlight was certainly the Museum van Speelklok tot Pierement - a museum dedicated to automatically playing mechanical musical instruments. Carillon clocks, musical boxes, pianolas, belly organs, orchestrions, and magnificent full-size mechanical organs. Completely automated like clockwork, the big ones play a complete orchestrated song, putting out the sound of a full band.

I was absolutely captivated by the workings of these machines - the intricacies of their design are a clear predecessor to punchcard computers and programming. Listening to them perform is a treat, as well - the gentleman in the above image spent the duration of my visit moving from one to the next, sitting down each time and enjoying a show.

Beyond the machine's decorated facade, there is nothing to visually witness. Still, it's quite an experience - I joined him for a romping rendition of "Old McDonald Had A Farm."

Ee eye ee eye oh.



My tea is done, and there is more here to see. Think I'll get some Dutch ice cream on the way, to balance things out.

It's so good, so cheap, and so available everywhere.