…of Amsterdam, I heard myself say to myself, and then I smiled, thinking maybe I should title the blog, Street Walker? Simply because of its scandalous connotation, I thought with amusement! Ha, then the realization came, not in this city. They don’t have to walk the streets or haunt street corners. They have a street to themselves, nay, a whole districts of streets in fact. And I remembered passing through there on my last visit, and smiling and waving to the ladies who stood looking out their windows. Lovely ladies, and two of them waved back in response to my friendly gesture, one did not. She scowled. Why could she not see the sincerity in my heart, but the other two could? So it’s not me, it’s what was going on with her. Still, I felt sad that I couldn’t brighten her day.
All the people I admire, including the dearly beloved Swami Jyotirmayananda, (last living disciple of Swami Sivananda,who my grandfather followed) and my Master Lin, (and Mummy and Bari Aunty, and Joginder mama) say that we must see ourselves and see God, in everyone. And I love doing that, it makes life so easy. I practice it on the street with strangers, and especially some people more than others need our compassion.
That was a long digression, and certainly not what I had in mind to say when I started to write here. Why did I start, rather return to my blog today? Several ‘signs’ that kept tugging me, like microphones directing my small voice to make sure it’s heard. So what were these microphones? Oh, too many. One was the fact, that I love writing and with the blog, when I come back to read my old posts, it brings back those memories to relive them again, mostly a lot of fun, and I enjoy that I’ve written them because reading them again gives me pleasure. Not all of them, mind. Not the ones I’ve not written with sincerity, or written with an awareness that someone might read them, and I don’t want any voyeuristic views into my thought process or experiences. But the ones that I’ve written for myself, I love coming back to.
The second was that I purchased 5 notebooks yesterday, (05/16/2026) with Vermeer’s “The Milkmaid” on the cover, at the Shop after we saw the “From Vermeer to Van Gogh Dutch Masters” Immersive experience, at Fabrique Des Lumieres, as part of the Holland Festival presently going on in Amsterdam. On Thursday, 05/14/2026, when we were ‘Walking the Streets’, (after a lovely surprise lunch K pulled on me, at Ottolenghi’s restaurant in the Mandarin Oriental) we wandered in to my favorite shop near Centraal, called Flying Tiger Copenhagen. I was just going to look at the ‘things’ there, and ended up with almost €50 worth of stuff, among them two boxes of pen sets, and what else, but notebooks! And a nice head massager! Really nice. One of those things one doesn’t need, but are nice to use. It’s a bit whimsically designed, and all one needs is one or two massages with its spindly arms of black coated steel, and multicolored ‘massager’ dots at their ends. Also a cardboard box with drawers.
Past midnight already, so technically going forth, I’ll be talking about yesterday! Always tell myself I’ll sleep early, and then, I don’t. Even when I was already sleepy around 9:00pm! However, today I did get done with my late nightly routine of that thing I’m doing earlier, just so could write. Had thought I’ll restart on my blog today, because I’ll get some help from Nature, it being the day of the New waxing moon. Mummy always said things you start or attempt, including and especially planting seedlings, grow with the waxing moon. So I’m hoping the moon, which watched me every night of my life, and knows all of my shortcomings, will support me to write.
Another reason to go back to my blog, is that much as I love putting pen on paper, I can’t carry my notebooks everywhere- and they fill up fast- so I have no access to them. But the blog I can read anywhere, and whenever I have done so, it’s taken me back and I’ve looked back with joy and gratitude. That’s the other thing to do. 10 things to be grateful for, fill my days with those intake for granted. Including a good appetite and access to good produce, varied cuisine and finding friends in unexpected places.
Which brings me to the third ‘sign’, the microphone my small voice, (with the aid of the universe) employed to tell me to write. It happened at the Amsterdam Bos Markets today. Which is the number 1 thing I love about the Netherlands, the Markets. Anyway, so after eating (and buying some to go) pies from Matias the Pieman https://piemanbakery.nl/ who has become a regular Market friend, and picking up Honey from a new vendor, a sauce from someone we are acquainted with, desserts from the lovely Surinamese lady who is the Best Baker in all of Amsterdam, and who remembers K as “my customer”as she had also ordered my birthday cake from her two years ago another bottle of Sunflower honey from Romania and Ukraine (I know, know, I know, how can it be two places?) we stopped at a double stall selling sauces, and other jars of all vegetarian products, how could I resist. I opted to pick up a pasta sauce made from sun-dried tomatoes, to have with the most delicious fresh pasta we get at Albert Heijn. After our purchase, the lady handed me a note pad with her business name on it, https://www.wijzijnoogst.nl/ A notepad! Big sucker for notepads, notebooks, drawing pads, diaries, journals, all things paper- it’s in my blood-another story, for another day! So that was the third (or have I lost count?) ‘sign’ to write, woman, write! So here she is, yours truly, writing, band loving every minute of it. Talking my heart out to my iPad, in the quiet night, with The Tree outside (my First Time Dancers poem tree) watching over me through the large wide windows. I have a feeling we will be buying their product again.
We also discovered another new vendor selling the most delicious olive oil! They were sampling two of them, an Italian olive oil, and a Spanish olive oil, one a pale yellow and the other a not so pale with its richness showing in the fresh green of its color. Both the kind one can SA our with a simple fresh cooked pasta, or a plump ravioli, drizzled with just the olive oil, and nothing else but a dressing of fresh basil. The Italian Oil is produced by the Pisicchio Family of Bari, PUGLIA. The olive variety is Coratina, with an October 2025 harvest date. 2% acidity, and notes of freshly cut grass, green banana, artichoke and arugula. I’d say they are spot on, and even have pairing suggestions, one of which being my favorite for pasta, pesto! The oil had a perfect balance of fruitiness and bitterness, so one could tell it had been treated with respect for its natural tendencies. I think we will have a relationship with this vendor as well, the Grovehood Collective. https://grovehoodcollective.com/
After meeting with our regular vendors, we moved on from the garlic guy as had enough garlic at hime, and were well stocked on my favorite fermented black garlic. The garlic guy was swamped and despite his double storefront there wasn’t room to stand around him. We stopped and said hello to the Dadi Nani pickles and chutneys lady.
Our Sunday Markets surprise wasn’t over yet. Finally, sat and ate our pies as they were freshly baked, hot and ready for us. The new asparagus with ricotta is awesome! Just as we were finishing up, the clouds couldn’t hold it in much longer, let out with a loud thundering noise. Off we scampered to the far end where the tables and benches had a covered roof over them. The six people at the first table scuttled in further and both of us at the ends made up a cosy party of eight. We had barely settled in when the gentleman at the far end proclaimed loudly, “we meet again!” Indeed we did.
We had shared a table with them the previous Sunday at the Amstelpark Markets, which are much larger and more convenient to get to, so those we rarely miss. We ate at that table, and I had a vegetarian Greek Gyro, which was fabulous by the way, and K relished her oysters. These two sat next to each other and finished a bottle of wine, and the taller and grungier of the two, went to fetch another. The other guy got chatting with us, and as I sat squinting my eyes and shielding my head and face with my hands, he had offered me his hat. He said he never leaves home without it. Normally, neither do I, but it had been overcast and I thought it wouldn’t be needed.
Today the two bottle buddies were sitting across from each other, and the hat guy raised his glass towards us, across the Brazilian tourists between us, and offered to buy us wine. I declined, and he said to me, “but you were drinking last time, I saw you!” To which I instantly replied, “you were too drunk so you were seeing a lot of things!” He laughed. Some more banter, and the other guy this time joined in and insisted they saw me drinking last time e we met, and some more banter and sudden a certain cordiality prevailed, enveloping the people sitting between us, as the rain continued to beat down loudly, with a steady stream of bubbling and bugling water running around us.
Other notable events on my visit so far- the most anticipated was the World Press Photo exhibit in its old venue, De Nieuwe Kerk on Dam Square near Centraal. I had seen it here in 2024, but missed it last year. Before that I think we saw it in Den Haag. I think i’ e seen only these three in the NL, it recall seeing it in Sydney as well. It’s always very sobering to watch. I think this time, it may have been a shorter exhibition but not by much. The most painful for me was the project out of Argentina where farmhands are getting sick using the pesticides on crops of soy, and how children are born with birth defects. There were similar stories in previous years with flower growers. Every project had its poignant protagonists whose lives project the pain of the subjects and subject matter. The one uplifting story which offered a new sense of hope was the story out of Morocco. Women horse riders breaking into a men’s only arena.
It’s been cold, overcast, windy and infrequently wet, unlike previous years at this time in May. Met more strangers and new friends and old. Susan from Albert Heijn, and Tina, with whom I have so much in common as far as life journeys go. Uncannily common- the themes of our lives. How unexpectedly discovered. Thanks to her being a self proclaimed chatterbox, I think I may have met my match.
On this note, even though there’s more, I must end dear blog. A girl (at heart) needs her beauty sleep. So, I hope you will help me blog and invite me to write sooner in the evening. As I had resolved to do, I’ve already liberated a few posts from drafts to posts. That should please you. I really shouldn’t be up so late, so going to say adieu for now, because look at the time. No decent hour for a lady to say goodnight. Hope to see you tomorrow, and you too, should t be up so late! Dank je well, Blog!
Veenu Banga
18th May 2026
2:03am
Monday.
