It is humid and filthy. I get up out of bed, and into the street. 5:48am.
This is the neighborhood trash collection point, across the street from our house. For how dense of a city Amsterdam is, they do a really good job with trash collection, road maintenance, and most public services. I guess that’s what a high income tax rate buys you.
Our neighbor has a free little library on their front stoop. I’ve seen people stop and take books on many occasions.
I turn west into Sarphati Park. Immediately to my left, there is a gym and game area with permanent fixtures. This ping pong table does double duty as a bar on Saturday nights.
The west border of Sarphati Park. Streets will suddenly appear like this, and just as suddenly be completely repaved and open. I noticed a few days ago that the bar just out of frame on the right will put some outside tables in this pit when the bar gets busy.
I find Albert Cuypstraat more interesting as a lonely, polluted, desolate, dystopian streetscape than it’s more famous daytime turn as a giant street market.
Why is there a tricycle on the roof?
I walk west until I hit Ruysdaelkade, the western border of de Pijp. I spent a couple minutes hanging out with this swan. It swam over to me from the far side and paced me for a couple blocks.
Lots of outdoor peeing opportunities for men. This urinal is suspiciously located directly across the street from the Ruysdaelkade window ladies.
I turn north to 75 Ruysdaelkade, where I recently learned Piet Mondriaan started the de Stijl art movement.
This utility box on the street in front of 75 Ruysdaelkade honors Mondriaan, too.
I start walking back toward my apartment and I see a piece by laser 3.14. I really dig this guy’s work, but this is one of my least favorite of his. I think the person who drew the dick next to this one might agree with me.
I noticed a plaque on the side of a building with the poem “Avond in de stad (Evening in the City)” by Frederik van Eeden in 1908. I couldn’t find an actual English translation of the poem, but the Google Translate version actually sounds nice.
Back to Albert Cuypstraat, where the sea birds rule the street.
One of the best things about walking down Albert Cuypstraat outside of market hours is to see all the painted roll-front doors.
The best doors are the ones where they paint the products they sell inside. The coacoa butter creme bottle is pretty convincing close up.
This chalk drawing was really surprising. It was drawn next to the entry of a residential building.
I walk by this restaurant a couple blocks from my house often, and each time I wonder if their digital sign is intentionally showing a pixelated image. Still can’t figure it out.
I walk quietly back in the door of the apartment and notice raindrops tapping against the windows. I got back just before a thunderstorm hit and broke open the humidity.