Lost in Delft....
Never again will I underestimate my own ability to get hopelessly, irrevocably lost. My first week in Delft was a constant experience of feeling confused, weary and generally incompetant.
There can be a distance of 100m between two points, and still I will walk for half an hour, trying to figure out exactly what went wrong. This situation is somewhat aggravated in Delft, because my 'beeline' approach doesn't work.
Its normally a fairly reliable approach, fixing my eyes on the place I want to be, and walking directly towards it. Ignoring all obstacles; poles, bicycles, small children..... Unfortunately, doing this in Delft would necessitate several brief but invigorating underwater trips. Furthermore, the canals are guarded by swans with an attitude problem. Or even worse, enraged geese.
Upon encountering a canal, it becomes necessary to follow it until the nearest passenger bridge. You would think that by crossing the bridge and following the canal back on the other side you could regain your bearings, but this mysteriously doesnt' work. Instead you find yourself passing through an endless series of charmingly identical alleyways, to be spat out somewhere hopelessly overshot from your original destination. In Delft you can't just cross the road, you must plan your road crossings well in advance ( a week is best).
After many days of this, one of the reasons for my confusion was revealed. There are three large churches in Delft; I thought there were only two. So my clever idea of navigating by the steeple was only causing further mayhem. Fortunately there is only one giant blue and red tower, so I can always find my house "pardon, waar is de toren? Grote toren, rood en blauw!"
And don't even talk to me about Amsterdam.....
But it turned out that I was not the only one with this problem. At 11 o'clock one night Erik and I were meeting Elia to go to a party in Marcushof. But trying to find Elia escalated from one coincidental misunderstanding, into a series of catastrophic misunderstandings, worthy of a Shakespearian comedy. Combined with Elia's broken English over a mobile phone as we wildly tried to give her directions that would mean something.
First she rang to say she was crossing over a bridge and under the railway, and would then turn left. Thinking she was crossing over the OTHER bridge and under the OTHER railway, I told her to go straight ahead. Later she rang to say she was outside the Rabobank. So we waited... there were two Rabobanks in Delft. Then she called to say she was outside a very high building with blue lights on it. Miraculously we found it. Surely there would only be one of those? Wrong once again.
By the time we made it to the party it was midnight. But like good little erasmus students we went anyway, and drank sangria util 3...
There can be a distance of 100m between two points, and still I will walk for half an hour, trying to figure out exactly what went wrong. This situation is somewhat aggravated in Delft, because my 'beeline' approach doesn't work.
Its normally a fairly reliable approach, fixing my eyes on the place I want to be, and walking directly towards it. Ignoring all obstacles; poles, bicycles, small children..... Unfortunately, doing this in Delft would necessitate several brief but invigorating underwater trips. Furthermore, the canals are guarded by swans with an attitude problem. Or even worse, enraged geese.
Upon encountering a canal, it becomes necessary to follow it until the nearest passenger bridge. You would think that by crossing the bridge and following the canal back on the other side you could regain your bearings, but this mysteriously doesnt' work. Instead you find yourself passing through an endless series of charmingly identical alleyways, to be spat out somewhere hopelessly overshot from your original destination. In Delft you can't just cross the road, you must plan your road crossings well in advance ( a week is best).
After many days of this, one of the reasons for my confusion was revealed. There are three large churches in Delft; I thought there were only two. So my clever idea of navigating by the steeple was only causing further mayhem. Fortunately there is only one giant blue and red tower, so I can always find my house "pardon, waar is de toren? Grote toren, rood en blauw!"
And don't even talk to me about Amsterdam.....
But it turned out that I was not the only one with this problem. At 11 o'clock one night Erik and I were meeting Elia to go to a party in Marcushof. But trying to find Elia escalated from one coincidental misunderstanding, into a series of catastrophic misunderstandings, worthy of a Shakespearian comedy. Combined with Elia's broken English over a mobile phone as we wildly tried to give her directions that would mean something.
First she rang to say she was crossing over a bridge and under the railway, and would then turn left. Thinking she was crossing over the OTHER bridge and under the OTHER railway, I told her to go straight ahead. Later she rang to say she was outside the Rabobank. So we waited... there were two Rabobanks in Delft. Then she called to say she was outside a very high building with blue lights on it. Miraculously we found it. Surely there would only be one of those? Wrong once again.
By the time we made it to the party it was midnight. But like good little erasmus students we went anyway, and drank sangria util 3...
posted by Girl with a pearl at
10:44 PM
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