It’ s starting to be an interesting weekend in Maastricht.
In my catalog of things to do, I missed out on Theater van het Vat, a three-night celebration of performing arts being held at bars throughout the city. I stumbled across it by mis- (good-) fortune: I decided to get some air and bundled my receipts and notes off to a local pub for a quiet bier. Instead, the bars were filled with snips of (Dutch) performances and the streets filled with patrons wandering from venue to venue. It was an interesting event: nothing to recognizable, but put on with energy and good humor.
Then, wandering home, I stumbled across one venue for the Living Room concert, marked out along the river with candles and featuring a quartet and a poetry reader inside. I watched through the window for a while – good music and a small group enjoying it. This looks like a nice event to remember for next year.
Around midnight, I did find a quiet corner and was about half way through entering the week’s spending in my little book when a shabby, grey-beaded man set up at my table with a beer and started making conversation. He actually turned out to be a retired civic profession, widely travelled, who knew that Seattle was in one of two Washington’s (and where each one was). We shared a drink and a few stories, he had a ready laugh and a good perspective.
If my days weren’t so full, I’d make a great night owl.