I would characterize my outlook at this point as optimistic. And more than a teensy bit worried. Can you tell?
So, I did what all enterprising people do and I delayed. I packed, I fooled around on the internet, I went to the supermarket, I purchased some different maps. I even went to an exhibit at the Franz Hals Museum in Haarlem (mum had said she wanted to go, so I couldn't leave without having seen it, now could I?). Brief overview... (I think I'm now orchestrating some grand double procrastination by procrastinating describing my first day cycling)... I love the technique/execution of the Dutch Masters, but, in general, I'm not enthused by their subjects. The aristocrats, bible stories, etc. However, the following are a selection that I *did* really like.
This particular painting was fun, because that building, the Town Hall in Haarlem's Market Square, is still there. I've stood in the spot that those people stood in 1671. Bizarre.
I'm not going to lie, I kind of like this portion of the painting because that flag says "VROOM."
And this still life is so rich, it inspired some of my lunch choices at the supermarket.
Ok. Fine.
This is an essay of a kind every primary school kid has written a million times over. The first day of school. The jitters, the excitement, the preparation. And like the first day of school, the parents are there to send me off, and will be in Paris to receive me when the month is over, holding washing powder, band aids, and presumably enough food for an army--I really am 28, I swear.
After saying goodbye to the parents, I was solo again (fast forward through three hours of procrastination). I started off biking, and all was going well. I was belting out some tunes, or rather, singing the three lines I know of each song that came on from my ipod playlist and ruining the rest with whatever I wanted. I took pictures of fields, of myself, of myself and fields. I attempted to take candid timed photos of myself so that every photograph I take away from this trip isn't a semi-angled shot of aforementioned field or windmill with my face monstrously superimposed on the foreground. And, let's face it, to make it seem like I have some friends.
I cycled into my final destination, having decided on an ultra-leisurely 35 kms to start this trip (I have almost a whole month. Shush. Also, I was worried about actually being able to set up the tent I'd bought and not yet used. And, I'm not a cyclist. Sheesh). I arrived as the sun was getting low, and looked at a couple of campgrounds, not finding the exact one I wanted. Then--panic. I'd forgotten my camera back where I'd had lunch. 12km away (remember tranquil candid photograph? I did). I hopped on my bike, and cycled all the way back (it must be said, I did this same section in about a quarter of the time). It wasn't there. I got to know all of the neighbours of that particular canal frontage. I did some serious knocking, then scoped out the local police station--which was closed--and bunked down a little ways along the road by a canal (I couldn't be bothered biking back to where I'd planned, and it was getting dark). Some nice fishermen had set up there, too, so I was among friends. Albeit new friends. If only I'd had my camera to take a picture of the fact that I had friends. We chatted and watched the swans land for the night. Those things are loud! Especially when their landing is less than perfect.
All night, Michael's fish tripwire alert went off as he got "line swimmers" as he called them. To no success. Jared, you would have liked his fancy setup, I think. I heard later that the next day he caught two quite large carp. Luckily, as sleep is my minor superpower, I just went straight back to sleep each time.
At 5:30am I woke up, bathed in an orange/pink glow. Stumbling out of my tent I swore at myself for losing my camera on one of the most beautiful days I've ever seen. I snapped a couple of ipod shots, but they don't do it justice.
I then had coffee and breakfast with Michael. He fed an agressive swan *his* breakfast, and I got on my way. 12km later (again) I checked in at the camping grounds I'd gone to--just in case--and yes, there was my camera, safe and sound. Happy, but a little embarrassed, I then spent a euro on the best shower I've ever had (that lasted exactly five minutes before it shuts off) at the campground where I retrieved my camera.
Morals of the story? I'm really not sure. I had one of the best nights/mornings ever. Look after your belongings, don't let yourself get too cocky/excited, and embrace the unexpected, I guess.
So, I did what all enterprising people do and I delayed. I packed, I fooled around on the internet, I went to the supermarket, I purchased some different maps. I even went to an exhibit at the Franz Hals Museum in Haarlem (mum had said she wanted to go, so I couldn't leave without having seen it, now could I?). Brief overview... (I think I'm now orchestrating some grand double procrastination by procrastinating describing my first day cycling)... I love the technique/execution of the Dutch Masters, but, in general, I'm not enthused by their subjects. The aristocrats, bible stories, etc. However, the following are a selection that I *did* really like.
Ok. Fine.
This is an essay of a kind every primary school kid has written a million times over. The first day of school. The jitters, the excitement, the preparation. And like the first day of school, the parents are there to send me off, and will be in Paris to receive me when the month is over, holding washing powder, band aids, and presumably enough food for an army--I really am 28, I swear.
After saying goodbye to the parents, I was solo again (fast forward through three hours of procrastination). I started off biking, and all was going well. I was belting out some tunes, or rather, singing the three lines I know of each song that came on from my ipod playlist and ruining the rest with whatever I wanted. I took pictures of fields, of myself, of myself and fields. I attempted to take candid timed photos of myself so that every photograph I take away from this trip isn't a semi-angled shot of aforementioned field or windmill with my face monstrously superimposed on the foreground. And, let's face it, to make it seem like I have some friends.
I cycled into my final destination, having decided on an ultra-leisurely 35 kms to start this trip (I have almost a whole month. Shush. Also, I was worried about actually being able to set up the tent I'd bought and not yet used. And, I'm not a cyclist. Sheesh). I arrived as the sun was getting low, and looked at a couple of campgrounds, not finding the exact one I wanted. Then--panic. I'd forgotten my camera back where I'd had lunch. 12km away (remember tranquil candid photograph? I did). I hopped on my bike, and cycled all the way back (it must be said, I did this same section in about a quarter of the time). It wasn't there. I got to know all of the neighbours of that particular canal frontage. I did some serious knocking, then scoped out the local police station--which was closed--and bunked down a little ways along the road by a canal (I couldn't be bothered biking back to where I'd planned, and it was getting dark). Some nice fishermen had set up there, too, so I was among friends. Albeit new friends. If only I'd had my camera to take a picture of the fact that I had friends. We chatted and watched the swans land for the night. Those things are loud! Especially when their landing is less than perfect.
All night, Michael's fish tripwire alert went off as he got "line swimmers" as he called them. To no success. Jared, you would have liked his fancy setup, I think. I heard later that the next day he caught two quite large carp. Luckily, as sleep is my minor superpower, I just went straight back to sleep each time.
At 5:30am I woke up, bathed in an orange/pink glow. Stumbling out of my tent I swore at myself for losing my camera on one of the most beautiful days I've ever seen. I snapped a couple of ipod shots, but they don't do it justice.
I then had coffee and breakfast with Michael. He fed an agressive swan *his* breakfast, and I got on my way. 12km later (again) I checked in at the camping grounds I'd gone to--just in case--and yes, there was my camera, safe and sound. Happy, but a little embarrassed, I then spent a euro on the best shower I've ever had (that lasted exactly five minutes before it shuts off) at the campground where I retrieved my camera.
Morals of the story? I'm really not sure. I had one of the best nights/mornings ever. Look after your belongings, don't let yourself get too cocky/excited, and embrace the unexpected, I guess.
No comments:
Post a Comment