From Rembrandt to the Red Light District

 Life is all about balance, right?   Yin and Yang.   So it made sense that our wide-eyed wander around the Rijksmuseum was counterbalanced by a long canal walk that somehow ended mysteriously in the notorious red light district.  At midafternoon most of the sights, so to speak, were still buttoned up behind closed curtains.   However, the signage left little to the imagination and the sudden appearance of a buxom lady luxuriously pulling on her silk hosery in her window was interesting, if not fetching.  We enjoyed a drink at Nieuwmarkt and watched the parade of humanity flow by, with tired legs and bums entirely happily planted our cobblestone patio chairs.

Speaking of women and The Netherlands.  About 50 times a day a Nordic goddess pedals by me at top speed, elegantly dressed and perfectly coiffed, usually with one hand on the bike and the other furiously texting.  As if by magic, they effortlessly avoid traffic snarls, pedestrians and fellow bikers.  Ranging from the young to the seasoned, they are long-limbed, clear-eyed and dripping with the natural beauty that the rest of us spend hours trying, and failing, to achieve.  I have never felt more stumpy, boring or Canadian.

We have mastered the use of trams, specificially, #24 to De Pijp.  From Centraal to drop off is less than 10 minutes and these trams are the epitome of Dutch efficiency, precisely on time, clean and pleasant and unpopulated.  It obligingly drops us just a few blocks from Albert Cuypmarkt, a fabulous outdoor market overflowing with temptations including a fruit, vegetable and flower market, decadent goodies, vintage clothing stores and so much more.   It is the most pleasant way to end our daily adventures, to stroll through the market and fill our bags with Stroopwaffles and excellent rounds of Gouda.  Our apartment is just a few steps from Sarphatipark, a green oasis that is well favored by the locals.  Dogs are all off leash and are perfectly behaved and pleasant, as any proper Dutch doggy should be.  Easy to take a baguette and a bottle of wine and settle in beside the pretty ponds, watch the ducks and swans glide by and take the antics of happy families.  Sweet.   Ineffable.

We are working on plans to spend a day in Delft and another day in Leiden (Rembrandt’s birthplace), both of which I am looking forward to tremendously.   Dave has already warned me that to climb the tower in 13th Century Delft is not for quitters - literally - you cannot quit once you are invested in the journey.  I’m thankful for all those biking trips through Wildwood Forest and hope the stumpy Canadian legs are up to the challenge!