Vrijmarkt Planning

We have planned King’s Day with the precision of military logistics and the full knowledge that none of the plan will survive contact with Amsterdam. #

Vrijmarkt planning happened today, which sounds much more organised than it was. Coffee on the table, map mentally present, phones nearby, several possible routes, discussion of timing, weather, where crowds become impossible, where we might want to go, what we definitely do not need to buy and will therefore almost certainly buy. I like the vrijmarkt because it makes the city temporarily look as though everybody opened their cupboards at once. Objects migrate. Children’s toys begin second lives. Books change shelves. Records wait for somebody with nostalgia. Clothes lie on blankets. Household things whose purpose is not immediately obvious acquire price tags. The whole city becomes a negotiation between attachment and release. I will absolutely come home with something. Yuri knows. I know. The pretence that we are going only to look is part of the tradition. We discussed comfortable shoes more seriously than any other element because we have reached wisdom. I refuse to repeat certain historical mistakes involving heels and optimism. The camera will come, obviously. The Olympus has survived enough crowded events to deserve a medal. I will carry the smallest useful bag because anything larger becomes punishment after six hours. Water. Something orange. Layers. This is what experience looks like. Not philosophical insight. Better bag choices. After our extremely serious planning meeting, which took perhaps fifteen minutes, we abandoned the subject and went out. Saturday Amsterdam. Coffee, walking, shops. I found the orange accessory. Finally. Small, tasteful, sufficient. Yuri looked at it. «That’s all?» «Yes.» «After a week.» «Perfection takes time.» He accepted this because challenging it would extend the conversation. I wore it briefly at home to test the situation. Good. Blonde hair safe. National relations preserved. Later I called Mom and told her about King’s Day preparations. She asked what I was wearing before asking what we were doing. Genetics. Dad would probably ask about crowd safety before clothing. Different parental departments. I like that they know these Dutch dates now through me. Not necessarily all the details, but enough that Mom knows when Amsterdam will turn orange and Dad knows the city will be crowded. My life here has entered their calendars indirectly. The same way Italian dates remain inside mine. Geography becoming family knowledge. Tonight the accessory is on the dresser where I will not lose it. This is optimism. I should probably put it somewhere sensible.

Remember me, Eclipse.