During summer breaks when I was in high school, I would sometimes drive around aimlessly with my little sister. Once in a while, we’d slow down in front of an interesting looking structure and I’d tell her we should go knock on the door just to see what it looked like on the inside. She’d giggle in a way little sisters are wont to do when they still enjoy tagging along, but I was serious. I’ve always had this annoying habit of gazing inside windows from afar (not to be mistaken with casing a joint, mind you), then outside once inside, curious about all the lives that weren’t mine. The world seemed impossibly infinite then–as it still does now–and I wondered where all this endless wondering, wonderment, would lead me. For today, anyway, it’s led me to door number 2 in the Netherlands:
As promised yesterday, I’m walking you inside Nederwaard Molen 2 in Kinderdjik:
There are a few bedrooms, kitchen, bathrooms, and living areas inside just like in any house, but everything is compact and somehow magically squeezed into the circular structure:
There are 4 sets of steep, narrow stairs that are better descended sideways or backwards:
It’s both claustrophobic and dizzying to climb to the next floor, but the views are worth it:
And if you ever wanted to know what the blades looked like up close…
A few last looks at the windmill…
and then we’re ditching the car for the subway. Where we’re heading tomorrow we’ll be better off on foot.
Tags: Kinderdjik, Nederwaard Molen 2, windmill
The first time I got to see a windmill up close and in person, it was dark outside and the tavern inside, where we were hoping to get a beer, was closed. I’d arrived at Le Moulin Defrenne too late. This time, I’m prepared like a Boy Scout. I’ve perused the mill database and concluded that eventually all roads lead to the UNESCO World Heritage Site mills at Kinderdijk in the Netherlands. So let’s skip the Quixotic chases and just go there:
BTW there’s plenty of parking right by the mills, so whatever you read about finding parking elsewhere, I’d ignore it. I don’t mind the long walk from where I park, however, because I get to enjoy the neighborhood…
as well as teaser views of the 19 mills as I get closer and closer:
Can you imagine this view from your backyard:
After a 20-minutes walk I get to the front of the “park”…
and there are bikes for rent…
(yeah right! I walk!)
…and there are people fishing:
This tourist attraction is, as it’s always been, in the middle of a village with life happening as we speak, so you get to see relics from the past right in the present.
How are the 19 mills, you ask? Same, same but different. Tomorrow I’ll take you inside Windmill 2:
Tags: Kinderdijk, Moulin Defrenne, the Netherlands, UNESCO, windmills
I like to document things. Trips, events, people, especially fashion… stuff that makes life fun and funny, particularly in hindsight. Before technology became fingertip-available, I’d laminate or Formaldehyde or shadow box whatever I could and keep them in perpetuity. I didn’t want to not have a reminder of everything I ever experienced. But in time all my moves from city to city became an exercise in dumping nostalgia. It was just too laborious to tow my life’s stuff around, packing 1996 here and unpacking 2005 there.
The worst part was that the more I “documented,” the bigger my fear got in losing any of it…a trinket from 2002 might not make sense without some card from 2001 that provided context, I’d tell myself. I had to store everything so I wouldn’t forget anything. I was operating like someone waiting for amnesia to set in. (BTW, I’m fully aware that it’s a disease to be in my head.)
Luckily, I woke up one day and decided that shedding stuff voluntarily was the only cure. If I intentionally let some of these mementos go, I’d still be maintaining control over the loss. Right? Well, this worked well in theory but in practice I learned to regret dumping so many things that can never be replaced….a neon Stephen Sprouse dress from the 80s (which I sorely miss after Marc Jacobs introduced a limited collection honoring Sprouse at Louis Vuitton early this year), my diaries from middle school, photos from a lost weekend in Rio.
Anyway, fast forward to now, when I can store almost everything electronically, it is quite easy to (virtually) archive every decade of my life down to the minutiae, and the shedding becomes less and less painful. I’ll always have a photograph of the favorite shoes or tote or jacket exorcised from my closet in a fit of cleaning madness, so any amount of donor remorse can now be immediately tempered by a jpg file. The scanned 300 photos I took of the leaning Tower of Pisa now reside on my computer and not in a cumbersome box I have to keep away from direct sunlight. Life’s past is pretty manageable, not to mention portable, when you can fit bits of it on a flash drive or even CD. The downside is, of course, not backing up everything enough so that one epic hard drive fail can wipe out chunks of my life in a second.
OK so all this dribble has nothing to do whatsoever with fashion on the road, which was the topic I meant to cover in today’s entry. I think I got sidetracked when I went back to look at the pictures I’ve taken so far on this trip to cull for the Outfit Du Jour shots and realized how neatly 2 weeks jammed with real-life activities can fit in a folder on my laptop, ready to be relived in full color with a mere few clicks.
So I’ll save the fashion thing for the end of the European trip. Tomorrow let’s go chase windmills!
Tags: Louis Vuitton, Stephen Sprouse
A forever visual I have of Dublin is of its streets lined with rows upon rows of Georgian houses…
Someone like me, who needs a GPS to get out of a parking garage, might have a hard time locating her own house here. Perhaps the brightly painted doors can provide some assistance:
Of all these wonderful doors, there’s really only one I want to walk through at this moment…
at Number 29 Fitzwilliam Street Lower:
The townhouse, now known as the Georgian House Museum, was built toward the end of 1793 and its first occupant was Mrs. Olivia Beatty, a mother of 7 who became widowed at the age of 33. Her late husband was a well-to-do wine merchant. Mrs. Beatty lived to be 83. That’s a long time to be a single parent.
I’m the first visitor to walk through the door this morning, and the lovely lady who greets me apologizes for making me wait until she could secure a tour guide for me, even though I would not have minded touring the house on my own. Apparently a large group had already booked the first tour from the night before. She leads me to the kitchen and pours us some tea…
but before I even take my first sip, I’m plucked from my seat to join the big group.
There are original and reproduced structures, furniture and artifacts in this house to give the visitors a glimpse at Neo-Classical architecture and decorative design of the late 1800s and early 1900s. What I enjoy the most is peeking inside the cupboard behind the kitchen then upstairs in the attic inside a wooden cradle, where there is a precious child’s nightgown of Irish linen and embroidery. No photography is allowed so you’ll have to take my word for it.
If you don’t love going to museums to look at art on the wall, I’d recommend visiting these types of “living” museums that are perhaps more relatable.
Back on the street, I take a few parting shots of the city…
And on the last walk back to my hotel before leaving Dublin I happen along a bronze sculpture of one of my favorite writers, W. B. Yeats, by one of my favorite artists, Henry Moore:
I’m a happy camper. Tomorrow, let’s get back to the business of fashion on the road.
Tags: Dublin, Georgian, Georgian House Museum, Henry Moore, Neo Classical, Number 29, Olivia Beatty, W B Yeats
Kilmainham Gaol was infamous for the execution of many Easter Rising rebellion leaders back in the early 1900s, and it’s now famous as a movie set for films such as In the Name of the Father and Michael Collins.
From the outside it is an unassuming yet austere building,
and across the street is a row of swanky new construction with an interesting sculpture:
As soon as I step inside, however, I know nothing good ever happened here. It reeks of suffering.
As with several museums in Dublin, you are required to take a guided tour of the prison’s grounds. We start in the jail’s chapel,
and the plaque below bears witness to a quick wedding that took place here on May 3, 1916 between Joseph Plunkett and Grace Gifford. A journalist, Plunkett was one of the original members of the Irish Republican Brotherhood Military Committee. He took a stand with his peers at the General Post Office (that I showed you a few blogs ago) days after having had surgery. At the ripe young age of 28, he was court martialed and sentenced to death by firing squad after the failed Easter Rising. Just hours before execution, he married Gifford in this chapel. Rumors are that she stood outside the prison gate for hours until she heard the shots that stole her husband’s life. Gifford was a cartoonist and also a prisoner at Kilmainham in 1923 for a few months.
Kilmainham was a co-ed prison and children as young as 7 or 8 were also held here, mostly for crimes like petty theft.
The 14 leaders of the Easter Rising who were executed here became martyrs in their own rights…
Padraig Pearce, the commander, was executed first. James Connolly was the last to die. A white cross was marked over each man’s heart as a target for the firing squad. Connolly’s execution was particularly brutal as he had to be carried across the yard. Suffering from gangrene as a result of an injury from the Easter Rising and unable to walk, he was tied to a chair and then shot. It could be said that his controversial execution galvanized more public support for their cause.
These next pictures are from the main Victorian Wing of the prison:
Out in Stonebreaker’s Yard the guide mentions that there was at least one successful escape, aided by the guards…
This is about as close as I ever want to get to incarceration…
and you bet I’d try to escape!
Tags: Dublin, Easter Rising, Grace Gifford, James Connolly, Joseph Plunkett, Kilmainham Gaol, Padraig Pearce, Stonebreaker's Yard, Victorian Wing
