Bikes and Vermeer

The day was coming to an end. I sat on a park bench by the river. It was quiet when suddenly, 'does this camera have a zoom function?' the man next to me asked. I nodded. He got up and proceeded behind the bench, crouching. I looked at the river bend at my left, as the tree hunched over it like a bridge. Then I noticed flashing lights coming from behind me, the man was taking pictures while mumbling on how to turn off the flash. 'What are you doing?' I asked immediately. After a pause he in turn replied 'I want to take pictures of those people riding their bikes across the river but I don't want them to see me so I don't seem like a creep'. Hm. But seriously, the cyclists here are nuts! People wearing heels and in fancy suits are riding bikes, that's a bit of a foreign sight to me. But I love it! Bikes are awesome, especially the vintage bikes they have here. It feels like a time in the past where riding bikes under the trees with your loved one was the best way to pass time in the summer (my notebook withdrawal symptoms are starting to kick in).

We had just got back from Den Haag that day, it was such a wonderful city the art scene of which was still alive and vigorous. In the alleys near the shopping district were rows and rows of small, contemporary art galleries. It is a city of the young and old as the buildings of what was mesh with what is and what will be. And therein lied a gallery that contained my first love, Vermeer, along with all the other Dutch masters of the golden era. Those two hours I was completely silent as the works of renaissance painters unveiled before my eyes. We sort of briskly saw everything because dad kept dragging me to the next room so we would have enough time to see other things than the Mauritshuis alone. It broke my heart when we had to leave but he was right.

I loved the place but you know, it was filled with young people... I hate young people.