Some journeys are planned, some just unfold. Here's how mine did — one day at a time.
Landed in Amsterdam just as the skies turned golden. Checked into a cozy heritage canal house. No agenda. Just wandered around, soaking in the city's quiet charm, cycling locals, and the comforting clink of coffee cups.
Took the early bus to Keukenhof. It was everything the postcards promised — and more. Later, I detoured through tulip fields on a bike. Met an elderly couple who’ve lived here for 40 years. They gave me homemade stroopwafels.
Spent the morning reading by the canal. Visited a local bookstore, had a long conversation with the owner about Dutch poetry and migration. Wandered into a flea market and found an old map from the 1950s.
Packed up slow. Wrote postcards. Took one last walk along the quiet canals. Caught a train to Bruges — a new chapter begins, but I’m already nostalgic for this one.
A visual trace of my path — each city a pause, each stop a memory.
Each day adds a thread to the tapestry. And I’m just getting started.
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