Skip to main content

Oudekerk on the Amstel

I got away today from the laptop and my newfounder's delight of blogging....and return with the fruits of my day. We rode along the Amstel river to Oudekerk (old church) village, about 30 mins away on the bike, we do this often on the weekend when the weather is good. The nature begins almost as soon as we leave our door, and if we were to go into town (the opposite direction) we would be in the Red Light in 15 mins.

That's the great thing about Amsterdam, particularly where we live - just a little outside the city centre, a few minutes on the bike and your surrounded by dykes, windmills, farms, playboy mansions, and dukes country castles. Yes I do live in the dam! It's just most people who visit, don't leave the tiny city centre.

In Ireland the landscpe is awesome, but often you need a car to get there, and the patients to sit in a traffic jam for an hour. I don't drive a car, thankfully, and never really felt the need to, except when back in Ireland. I really wish you could join me some sunny sunday afternoon, just to see how beautiful the ride is. Next time your in the Dam, rent a bike and just follow the Amstel river all the way south on the east side. You'll think you've died and gone to heaven. You don't need to be too envious though, there are lots of downers about holland, but today we shall just leave them someplace else.

Comments

H said…
How beautiful the photos are!

Popular posts from this blog

R.I.P

Some of you may notice that I have deleted a few posts. These in general where some of my more contentious writings with regard to my frustrations being a 'outsider' in the Netherlands. As with most things in life one needs to review and reassess at various stages. Some of these postings generated a healthy amount of comment, but this perhaps is just indicative of how people can more easily relate to critical editorial. The world press is full of such editorial writings. We read such articles on global politics whilst nodding internally in agreement, confirming our belief that we some how understand the complexities of human suffering better than those who actually live in such situations on a daily and all too real bases.

I've decided that should I post a critical comment, then I should always accompany it with a positive one because in reality that is how things are.

In addition, as a man who has worked in advertising for many years I'm all too aware of my 'brand…

What to do on Sunday's

Fr. Leo Nedersticht, now that's a good Dutch name. Whilst busy with preparations for my marriage some ten years ago, I hastily called around looking for a Catholic priest to give a blessing at my civil ceremony. This was met with distain by my first contact, promptly being told by the cleric, "we don't do that sort of thing". An alternative phone number was privided and I was informed, "you need to call Fr. Leo".

"That's the man for me", I thought. A priest with a reputation, I liked him even before we'd met in person. And, he lived up to his reputation. It was a fantastic ceremony with blessings given by both himself and a Buddhist friend, with an equally charismatic civil servant putting on a crowd cheering performance as if not to be outdone by the traditionalists.

We lost contact over the years, as happens, but returned home from vacation to hear his warm voice on the answer machine. He came for lunch a couple of weeks ago, we enjoyed…

An ex-pat I shall always be

I recently visited the ex-pupils Facebook page from my old boarding school. I hope some old chums will post me, however I only resided at the Franciscan secondary school for three years and not the normal full five years so perhaps any imprinted memory may be somewhat vague. I ponder that I've kept moving on for most of my life. I guess I was born an ex-pat, whenever I return to Ireland to visit my parents I get the feeling that I've been here, I've done this. Am I a stone that gathers no moss? I suspect not. It's just that the moss has many coloured hues.

At the age of 16 I realized that remaining in boarding school would stunt my preparation for adult life. By 17 my girlfriend would sleep over, by 18 I knew my future would be founded in work and travel and not taking notes in a lecture hall. At 19 I had grown disillusioned with advertising and commerce and joined the Army. By 20 I was in London. By 24 I had bought my first house and was a junior partner in business. …