Friday, April 24, 2015

On the Streets of Madrid:

Walking through the streets of Madrid: a city I’ve come to surprisingly know quite well, having visited, now, numerous times. A fresh spring breeze flowed throughout town; roof terraces dazzled their inhabitants and overflowed with their chitter-chatter, as the sun returned to the city, and its citizens came out to play. The trees were in full bloom, and the flowers all seemed to reveal more of themselves, with each passing day. The sun shone bright against alabaster buildings; the metro sung, as it slid from stop to stop; and the joggers never stopped their countless laps, around the edge and inner-pathways of intricately landscaped, once monarchical, Buen Retiro Park.














Thursday, April 23, 2015

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Sunset Above the Muiderpoortbrug:

Muidepoortbrug is the scene of glamour, at least every 180 seconds, as trams 9 and 14 swiftly slide up and over it; the bridge is therefore one of my favorite spaces in the city, to watch people, trams, and those by bike alike. The southwestern edge of Alexanderplein is where I can often be found, sitting along the water's edge, legs dangling down, as movement–which is glamorous–is there, gracefully abound.



Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Friday, April 10, 2015

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Atop Muiderpoort at Alexanderplein:

Who knew Muiderpoort had its own sprawling roof terrace?


Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Monday, April 6, 2015

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Hacquartstraat's Square:

The square at one end of Hacquartstraat isn't even a square; it's more like an extended piece of sidewalk, just in front of the brick housing buildings that align it; the square is actually a half circle, or perhaps a bit more than a half, whose edges are lined with the most amazingly simple wooden benches; the backs of each bench can be repositioned; they can be pushed forward to sit on the benches while looking out, away from the square; the other direction of the bench backs, allows one to sit facing the square; a square that's kaleidoscopic in its offerings, and countless in its possibility for reconfiguration, make it one of my favorites in all of Amsterdam. Luckily, it's nearly always, empty. Meaning, that on most occasions, I have it to myself.

Friday, April 3, 2015

Thursday, April 2, 2015

On the Streets of London:

Walking through the streets of London: A city that I have only visited once before, and a city that I'm overjoyed to, once again, find myself within. My previous visit to the capital of the United Kingdom was full of the unexpected, which was simultaneously, somehow, still expected; the Pound is unfamiliar to me, as are its notes, and its coins; the problematic situation of always nearly being plowed by an oncoming bicyclist or automobile, due to the opposite direction in which people travel down streets; and the accents that everyone have, I had previously only heard in the media, and movies. By now, they are familiar; each accent has so much hidden meaning laced throughout it. London is a sprawling city, and one that takes time to swath one's self within; it is much like New York City, in that it is not the most welcoming when it comes to people; both cities tend to work against the pedestrian–though London certainly embraces those by foot–with its many urban follies and deviations, side-winding streets, and subtle elevation changes. Infinitely endless is the city, or so it seems; taking the Tube is the preferred mode of travel, taxi being far too expensive and certainly less adventuresome. Having already pronounced around the City of London on my previous visit, this time I explored its outer areas, such as Chiswick, Hampstead, and Islington–all areas with a high adorability factor, and complete worlds within themselves. Many galleries saw me float through their doorway-thresholds, such as the National Gallery (on countless occasions; it's hard not to repeatedly stop by, considering all that great art inside), the Wallace Collection, and the Kenwood House, perched atop Hampstead Head. While there are many aspects of the kingdom that are very unfamiliar to me, there is also a certainly familiarity that it also entails: I understand every word of everything that most in my surroundings say–the native lingua franca being English, and the swift pace of life, and the efficiency of it, certainly remind me, at times, of the USA, and at other times, not. One of the most beautiful aspects of London that I'm learning to love, is its omnipresent wright-iron; it really is everywhere, and it lends to the city an amplification of its Georgian and Victorian past, making it readily visible for all to immediately see, though only when one keeps an eye out for it.