Utrecht, The Hague, Rotterdam #4: Utrecht - The Hague
When I'm away, the third days are always different. You have to pack your bags, check out of the hotel, go work, head back home. Not this time though. This time I only pack my bags, check out, go work, but I don't head home. I booked myself a solo city trip. How romantically lonely. As I write this, I just got on the train to The Hague from Utrecht Central Station. I'm currently feeling dispirited about going to The Hague. Maybe I should have just gone home, I think to myself. But that would be dangerous. Remember what I wrote yesterday. One has to keep their promises, and mine was not to spend weeks away from home in the bleak hotel-work cycle. I keep my promise and go to The Hague. I keep my promise and delay my entry into the matrix. Or so I tell myself, knowing perfectly I have been a part of it for the last 24 years. One doesn't choose these things.
The aforementioned dispirited feeling comes from a melancholy I developed around lunch time today. This melancholy, in turn, stems from a self-inflicted feeling of heartbreak. Better, I should have known. I's, I should have dotted. Regrets, I have many. T's, I should have crossed. Enigmatic this, isn't it? I mention this for context. The rest of the post will not go into detail. Just know I sit here with my heart beating in my throat, pressure and pain in my chest. If you added a toasty odour, I'd have know God was being merciful.
Currently the train conductor is making his typical announcements as we enter the Gouda station. Transfers to trains leaving to the most obscure sounding villages. I'm staying aboard for another 20 minutes. When I get there, I have a 15 minutes walk to the hostel. De Lola Podshostel. It always amazes me how flat the Netherlands are. It always looks like you are situated near the coast. Probably because you usually are.
Lola's hostel is much nicer than expected. Rightfully so when one considers the price. Paid over €40 a night, plenty much. When I heard they put me in a room with 51 other beds in it, I was sceptical. It turns out, however, it is quite high class (for a hostel) and the pods provide a lot of privacy. Still curious about the noise. My downstairs neighbour was grinding a gram for a jazz woodbine when I arrived. He's shy, but clearly chill.
After I checked in, I checked out the surrounding area. Sauntered about aimlessly for a while. Ordered some food in a place selling pastrami sandwiches. Day Dream Deli. 30 minutes waiting time, which I spent in a much nicer bistro-bar. Should have eaten there. Hindsight am I right... Doesn't matter too much, I paid with the company's card. Don't tell anyone. Pastrami sandwiches took about 5 years off my life expectancy. That makes it about 40 now, I reckon. I had half of them in a park, where an older Asian woman was foraging through the bins. For recycling I thought - "keurig" the Dutchies would say - until she blatantly ignored an obvious plastic bag in the lawn in front of her. Haven't a clue what she was thinking.
That reminds me of an Asian woman in the bathroom of the hostel when I arrived. I thought she was cleaning the place. She was just washing her clothes, staying in the hostel just like me. My mistake.
Having eaten half the sandwiches, not wanting any more, I decide to head for the beach. An hour's walk. I use a tram though, taking 40 minutes off my ETT. I board next to quite an impressive building. I look it up. The Peace Palace. One couldn't think of a more pretentious name. The hypocrisy house seats the The International Court of Justice of the United Nations. One might call it, then, the largest cuck chair-museum in the world. Allow me this one cheap joke.
On the way, the tram passes the most iconic Haagsche streets. Most notable was the Adriaan Goekooplaan. I promise I did not make that up. Look it up on tramline 1 between Peace Palace and beach. For my English readers: it would be the equivalent of naming a street... I honestly can't think of an equivalent. Stay tuned for updates.
Sadly there are no deli's at the beach, so I'm stuck with water for my sunset watch party. A beer would have been nice. Would have cost me an arm and a leg though. My Chouffe (25cl) in the bistro was €6. Absolutely absurd pricing. Background music is provided by two Argentinians behind me playing a harp and a ukulele. They seem to know half the passersby, all speaking various levels of Spanish.
The beach is still quite busy at 9:14pm. Then again, it is a Friday. Many Germans about. I'm a keen observer.
The sun set around 10pm and I take the tram back to the hostel. Funnily enough the area around the coastline seems to be a more rugged environment than the city centre. Tram is absolutely packed with Dutchies and tourists alike. Some of them quite intoxicated. They must have found a deli, a night shop. I'm considering going back there tomorrow night for the sunset. I enjoyed it a lot. It made a good place to type up my day and listen to music. Note to self: make sure to have a beer in your bag.
P.S.: Stray cats survive.