Its a working few days in Maastricht, time spent with design groups that are working for the business, and a lot of catch-up with lapsed pieces of everyday life that scatter in my absence. The PT clucks about how stiff my ankle has become since we last met; my housekeeper stops by to discuss the mail, (my) legal and (her) insurance conundrums. Our lives are never simple.
Still, my bike has not been stolen and it’s nice to wake to the chimes ringing across the rooftops (even at 2 am). Work seems almost complete on sinking the A2 below ground, but the sporting goods store next to me looks to have gone out of business. I see change in glimpses, registering differences.
Visitors to the ‘skade have left plants and flowers which are, surprisingly thriving: I leave thank-you notes ahead of their next visit. We discover that most of the cans and jars are years past their expiration date, and lug it all to the recycle bins up the river. I catch up with folks in the restaurant downstairs and the cafe/pub next door, who all seem to be doing well. The bier van de maand is Bush 12%: headaches ensue. I’ve been gone too long.
We get out in the evenings for borrelje: bitterballen en drinken, talking as the sun sets, watching the fietsers drift by like luie vis. I’ve missed my things, the people, the pace, of Dutch life.