It must have been the first Saturday since we moved here. Our new house on Weststraat, just habitable if you were willing to climb over a few boxes every now and then. It didn't matter. Clutter is there to be looked through. We had been to the market, by bike, and had a coffee at Robuust. Afterwards, we cycled home along the Keizersgracht. And of course, the Keizersgracht in Amsterdam is beautiful, but how lovely it was to meander along the canals in the sun with a bag full of groceries, knowing that you were on your way home.
The coast and culture
It must have been the first Saturday since we moved here. Our new house on Weststraat, just habitable if you were willing to climb over a few boxes every now and then. It didn't matter. Clutter is there to be looked through. We had been to the market, by bike, and had a coffee at Robuust. Afterwards, we cycled home along the Keizersgracht. And of course, the Keizersgracht in Amsterdam is beautiful, but how lovely it was to meander along the canals in the sun with a bag full of groceries, knowing that you were on your way home.
Later that day, I walked to the end of the street for a pile of new books from the library, and in the evening, I went to the cinema in Willemsoord with both my children and two of their friends. It took three minutes to get there, and three minutes back after the film. That was six minutes along the water, past lights and a lively atmosphere, past houses where people were celebrating birthdays or lying together on the couch. Once again, I felt how happy I was that we had moved to that location. Despite a house that is so very much our own place, we were part of the city.
We feel it during our walks. Often along the dike, which is so close by, beside the water, via the harbor, around or over Willemsoord. In a single walk, we take in the sea, the facades—both historic and new—the lively atmosphere at the shipyard, the old ships and their crews, and everything happening in the city. We walk past the Kampanje and see little ones boarding the Schorpioen with their grandmas and grandpas during a day at the Maritime Museum. In the distance, music from a party or festival can be heard. When we are almost home, we make one last stop at the Art Lending Library and pick up a work from the framer.
Recently, we walked almost unnoticed into the Jutterhavendagen, where landlubbers and sea dogs had gathered in the drive-in cinema. People in boats, on garden chairs along the quay, in the grass, or with dangling legs by the water's edge, enjoyed Pirates of the Caribbean. And I was proud. Of that city, where something is always happening. Where there is always something to do.
There was so much more, just this summer alone. I signed up at Rik Niks’s sports and dance school. With a gym across the street, I really have no excuses anymore. We ate fish and chips at the Werviaan. And we rented a sloop to see the city from the water. Towards Huisduinen, an almost unrecognizable nature reserve; towards the city, along the canals, the city life, the terraces. With my bare feet over the edge and a cold drink in my hand, I knew for sure that I am made for this city. Or rather, that this city fits me like a glove. One with buttons, zippers, a hood, and a removable lining, so it always fits well.
Because whether I want to trudge across the beach in wind and rain or crave an evening at the theatre, whether I prefer reading a book or heading into the woods, spending a day on the water or visiting a museum, it is simply possible. Coast *and* Culture. Den Helder brings together the best of both worlds. And all of that as soon as I step outside the door.
YANAIKA SUMMERÂ
