#haarlemmerdijk

[micheltaanman-blog]

Amsterdam - vrolijk makende winkel Kitsch Kitchen

[liefst]

hi! <3 i'm travelling to amsterdam for the next 3 days with my love and i'm wondering if there are any restaurants, cafes, vintage/thrift spots or cute stores (or anything else really!) you'd recommend as a local? only if you want to of course, no pressure! love your presence and your blog! have a lovely evening! :)

hi! sorry, when you sent me this ask i completely blanked and couldn't think of anything. i hope you had a lovely time in amsterdam, there's lots of cute places to see that you'll find just by walking around. hmm here's some tips i can come up with now, for possible future reference, or for someone else reading this:

thrift shop Gideon Italiaander at Beethovenstraat 1: really big, they often have really weird stuff, cheap - i've found some really special things there.

de koffieschenkerij at Oudekerksplein 27: a café located in a really old and pretty building attached to the oude kerk (old church). it's especially nice to sit outside in the shade of the trees in summer.

i love the red velvet cake at de drie graefjes. they have three locations but the one near dam square and the new church at Eggertstraat 1 is the most picturesque.

oude nieuwstraat is a very pretty and short red light street. for some reason tourists never go there.

this is just my personal interests speaking but i really love the quilt shop Petra Prins at Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal 97 :)

if you like going to the cinema i can really recommend going to The Movies at Haarlemmerdijk 159 (art house cinema with an art deco interior - you could also just pop inside to have a cup of coffee) and Pathé Tuschinski at Reguliersbreestraat 26-34 (grande and absolutely stunning on both the outside and the inside, art nouveau/art deco style).

[sprolden]

Amsterdam anon definitely avoid De Wallen and also Leidseplein (it's one of the main areas for drinking but it's full of drunk english tourists, not the best experience). If you go to these places while there's still sun out not there won't be that many people but during the evening /night when people are drinking they can be a bit of a nightmare.

I also definitely recommend Haarlemmerdijk, I used to live there it's so cute! It has a few canals you can sit by and it's really chill. Most definitely pop by the stores, some of my favourite places are in that street. There's also Westerpark that's super close by, you should go!!

Go to the parks!! Chances are there'll be one super close by to where you'll be staying but I suggest visiting more than one as they're all different from each other. I'd avoid Vondelpark simply because it tends have the most crowds but that's super cute too.

Also if you're into that there's Pathe Tuschinski, it's basically a cinema but that place was built in the 1920s and has a really cool architecture. You don't have to catch a film (although in the nl they subtitle them so that's also an option!) but I'd suggest visiting while they're open just to see the place, it's really cool.

<3

[jurjenkvanderhoek]

HØKEN VAN GRONINGEN TOT ZEELAND, DE VEENHOOP TOT IN VALKENBURG

De dag dat Geert Wilders in de Kamer tegen Mark Rutte riep "Doe eens normaal, man" had de premier meteen het lied 'Høken is normaal' moeten aanheffen. En dan had de voorman van de PVV kunnen invallen met 'Oerend hard'. Maar ja, toen lag het boek 'Feesten als wilde beesten' nog niet op de koffietafel. Schrijver en samensteller Dolf Ruesink dacht in 2011 nog helemaal niet aan een fotoboek over Nederland 50 jaar Normaal. Er was geen sprake van een halve eeuw rock uit de Achterhoek, het moment was nog niet aangebroken. Maar in de Tweede Kamer had de Nedersaksische streektaal kunnen klinken, toen. Het was het ultieme moment om te laten horen dat Nederland meer is dan het hoog Haarlemmerdijks en de hete aardappel in de keel, dat er in ons kikkerland eigenlijk alleen maar streektalen en in dialect wordt gesproken.

In 1975 wordt Holland oerend hard opgeschrikt door die rockband uit het Oosten des lands. Een achtergebleven gebied, dat Oosten meent het Westen. Een land van boeren, burgers en buitenlui. Uitgestrekte velden, loeiende koeien, knorrende varkens en kraaiende hanen. De Achterhoek, kan daar iets goeds vandaan komen? De tijd blijkt rijp de grond eens twee spaden diep om te keren en de westerse lakens eens danig op te schudden. In de vruchtbare grond van het platteland planten Bennie Jolink en consorten een jonge scheut die binnen een paar jaar tot een stevige boom zal uitgroeien en rijk vrucht zal dragen. Het fundament is op Hemelvaartsdag in Lochem gelegd voor een huis van de taal dat stevig staat. De deur van het heilige huisje van de popmuziek is ingetrapt. In je moerstaal zingen kan en mag dan werkelijk in die taal en met die spraak waarin je denkt en waarmee je leeft. Normaal is de voorloper in het muziek maken zoals het hoort, gewoon dat doen zoals je bent. Geen vertalingen, gewoon wat in je hart leeft en dagelijks normaal uit je mond komt.

'Feesten als wilde beesten' is een lijvig boek in harde kaft gestoken, het kan tegen een stootje en hoort een plaats te hebben in de boekenkast van de liefhebber. Een must-have voor de fanatieke fan, de bijbel voor de normaalist. Of anhanger, in gaaf Achterhoeks. Het boek is eigenlijk een veredeld plakboek. Zo’n multomap waarin foto's geplakt zijn, voorzien worden van het nodige geschreven commentaar. Om herinneringen op te halen: van toen was ik daar, weetjewel. Geen biografie van de band, maar een beschrijving van het publiek. Een collage van ervaring en emotie vanuit de zaal van wat er op het podium gebeurd. De schrijver en samensteller is een grondige veldtocht door Nederland aangegaan om bij vrijwel iedere høkende fan en elk podium waarop Normaal heeft gestaan aan te kloppen. En op die diepgravende manier een omvangrijk archief samen te stellen van afbeeldingen en memorabilia. Geïllustreerd met smeuïge verhalen en sappige anekdotes. Alles uit de eerste hand, want zij waren erbij.

Dolf Ruesink, journalist en auteur, volgt de band vanaf de oprichting en was redacteur van het fanclubblad Anhangerschapsbode. Hij prijst in zijn voorwoord de uitgave zelf aan als foto- en concertboek, dat gaat over de beleving van het legioen høkers en anhangers. Over hun gewoonten en spraakmakende rituelen, de feestcultuur. ‘Passend in de tijd van toen, maar ze geven ook een sterk veranderd tijdsbeeld weer. Over seksualiteit, emancipatie, gezag en dierenwelzijn zijn opvattingen en opinie in een halve eeuw radicaal gedraaid.’ Om te beginnen belicht het boek de ontwikkeling van Normaal als ambassadeur van de streektaal. De kracht en magie van de pioniersband schuilen in de eigenheid, spontaniteit en originaliteit waarmee ze al een halve eeuw optreden, merkt Ruesink terecht op. Met hun authentieke dialectnummers vertolken en voelen ze perfect het sentiment van hun volgers aan. ‘Bij elke stemming past wel een nummer.’ Het boerenimago heeft Normaal geen windeieren gelegd. Normaal blijkt geen ééndagsvlieg of een overwaaiende rage, het is een goedlopend bedrijf dat op het juiste tijdstip en op een goede manier de mensen aanspreekt.

“Feesten als wilde beesten” doet na deze inleiding over de band de groei en bloei van de fanatieke achterban uit de doeken. Want daar gaat het boek over het geheel genomen over, het is de spil waarom de uitgave draait. Want die anhangers, de meute van vurige volgers, bepaalt de cultuur die om de groep heen hangt. Die folklore gaat verder dan enkel de spreekkoren tijdens concerten, het luidkeels meezingen van liedteksten. Er wordt een hele ris aan gewoontes uit de kast getrokken die de geschiedenis ingaan als de rituelen rond Normaal. Stevig stampen, strooien met stro en gooien met Grolsch-bier. De varkensstift om dames te merken, kanonskogels van kletsnatte hemden. Touwtjespringen met aan elkaar geknoopte shirts. Het Zwientje Tik, een varkensrace, afgekeurd door de Dierenbescherming, goedgekeurd door Normaal. In het boek worden publieke geheimen prijs gegeven: geen bier in de beugelflessen op het podium, maar Spa rood. De muziek mag dan zijn aangeschoten, de muzikanten moeten wel helder blijven.

De veldtochten, zoals de tournees van Normaal worden genoemd, gaan door al de Nederlandse provincies en kort daarbuiten. Dolf Ruesink volgt de mannen op de voet en ik sta bij wijze van spreken stinkend naar verschaald bier op de voorste rij geplakt tegen het hek. Van Groningen tot Zeeland, overal trekken de muzikanten volle feesttenten. Veel plekken bezoeken ze meermalen, want de groep en hun muziek valt in de smaak. Vooral in plattelandsgemeenten en kleine dorpen wordt Normaal met open armen ontvangen. Hoewel er in de beginne nog weleens wat tegenstand is – burgemeesters verbieden optredens, maar deze wordt snel gebroken en in der minne geschikt. Gaandeweg verovert Normaal heel Nederland en zingt men tot in alle uithoeken rondborstig en luidkeels mee in de streektaal. Het Achterhoeks groeit uit tot een dialect dat het Fries van de troon dreigt te stoten als tweede taal van het land.

Trots zijn op je achtergrond en je moerstaal spreken, dat gaat als een razend vuur door heel het land. Waar Normaal dan ook speelt van De Veenhoop tot in Valkenburg, overal vindt hun simpele imago weerklank en trekt volle feesttenten. Het boek beschrijft dan ook niet de muziek van Normaal, maar de manier waarop het beleefd wordt. Vanuit alle uithoeken van Nederland komen er bij Ruesink desgevraagd verhalen van ervaringen binnen. Het maakt naast de honderden foto’s die de anhangers in beeld brengen het boek een feest om door te bladeren. Normaal staat voor feest, de fans bouwen het graag. Het enthousiasme op het podium straalt uit op het publiek in de zaal en andersom, de massa brengt met geestdrift het concert tot een hoogtepunt. Het is een opwaartse spiraal waarna er een puinhoop aan bierglazen, hemden en bh’s overblijft.

Hoewel ik al meer dan duizend woorden eraan heb vuil gemaakt laat het boek zich eigenlijk niet beschrijven. Het moet gelezen worden en vooral bekeken. Het geeft een glashelder beeld van de mensen waarvoor Normaal op de planken staat. Nederland 50 jaar normaal, dat is biergooien, strosmijten, grondhøken, moddervechten, varkensrennen, brommerskieken, dorpsfeesten, drankketen, dauwtrappen, kraamschudden, carbidschieten, noaberschap, høken, daldeejen, brekken en angoan. Allemaal en meer onderdeel van het Normaal-verhaal.

Feesten als wilde beesten. Nederland 50 jaar Normaal. Dolf Ruesink. Uitgeverij Noordboek-Van Gorcum, 2024.

Moi wi-j goat høken / en dat doe`w niet zachtjes, moar dat doe`w hard/ ik zei hard

Zo alderbarstend hard, `t kan niet harder goan / zo knoeperd hard, dat ow alles oaverend geet stoam

zachtjes en dat doet wi-j as wi-j uut gedretten bunt / vanavond goat wi-j høken, zo hard as wi-j dat kunt

Zo alderbarstend hard, `t kan niet harder meer / zo knoeperd hard, as `t nog harder geet dan dut `t zeer

Bartjen is an `t bateren, de splinters vliegt d`r af / de deerntjes vangt de stokken op, zie wordt helemoal maf

Wimken is an `t ploegen, diepe deur de voor / `t geet eengaal better met zo`n donders snee in `t oor

Ketsen is an `t ketsen, zo dat alles ketst / ketsen is `t enige, høken is olderwets

Paultjen met de turbo, notenmeter op de hals / oeh, wat kriegt die snaren smeer, dat is joarlang niet mals

Buizen is an `t reeren en hoe spölt d`r ok nog bi-j / as hie begint te scheuren, bunt der anderen niet zo bli-j

Zo alderbarstend hard, `t kan niet harder meer / Zo knoepes hard, as `t nog harder geet dan dut `t zeer

Zo alderbarstend hard, `t is ongekend /zo gloepes hard, wi-j wilt gin mietjes in de band

[msclaritea]

'Killers of the Flower Moon' Intermission Violations: Apple, Paramount Crack Down

Martin Scorsese did not include an intermission in his 206-minute epic, “Killers of the Flower Moon.” But that hasn’t stopped a handful of movie theaters around the world from inserting one themselves, with intervals ranging from between six minutes and 15 minutes.

As of Friday morning, two European cinema chains and one independent theater in Amsterdam sold tickets to screenings of “Killers of the Flower Moon��� with a built-in break. A spokesperson for UCI Cinemas, an exhibition chain with venues in Germany, Italy, Portugal and Brazil, confirmed that all of its nearly 80 theaters — with the exception of Imax screens in Porta di Roma, Orio, and Campi Bisenzio — had included a “six-minute interval towards the middle of the film.”

The Vue, a U.K.-based theater chain, and an Amsterdam cinema called The Movies Haarlemmerdijk also were offering showings with a break, according to their websites.

Domestically, The Lyric, a theater in Fort Collins, Colo., showed the historical drama with an intermission until Oct. 26. However, they did away with the intermission after getting in trouble with Paramount, the film’s distributor, and Apple Original Films, its producer. The companies have been contacting theaters that have violated their contract by splitting up the film and telling them to show “Killers of the Flower Moon” as intended, according to an individual with knowledge of the situation.

To be clear, only a smattering of venues out of the roughly 10,000 globally that are screening “Killers of the Flower Moon” have included an intermission, but it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Thelma Schoonmaker, the editor of the film and longtime collaborator with Scorsese, told The Standard, “I understand that somebody’s running it with an intermission which is not right. That’s a violation so I have to find out about it.”

While Scorsese has not directly addressed the intermission (or lack thereof), he defended the long runtime of “Killers of the Flower Moon” in an interview with the Hindustan Times, saying, “People say it’s three hours, but come on, you can sit in front of the TV and watch something for five hours."

Other analysts agree with Scorsese’s position.

“If Scorsese didn’t intend for there to be an intermission, I think that should be at least the primary way people can see it,” says Shawn Robbins, chief analyst at Boxoffice Pro. “That being said, it was a long movie. And I think if there is enough demand out there, and especially if it means a difference in helping someone make the decision to go and buy a ticket, rather than not go see the movie, then maybe there’s an economical and practical argument for at least a limited option.”

Spokespeople at Apple and Paramount declined to comment.

I'm sorry...WHAT!? We have a remote control at home. People pause movies and take breaks. If this extra long viewing of Killers of the Flower Moon is supposed to mimic how we view films AT HOME, then there should be a break.

And am I hearing this correctly? Are European theaters allowed intermissions but not in American aka Chinese-owned AMC theaters? Who's stupid idea was it to extend films at such a length, because I know part of the reason is to try and sell these films as somehow being MORE Artistic. All I can think about is being trapped in my seat for three hours.

[miklospalko]

Amsterdam - Haarlemmerdijk

[inatelescopelens]

amsterdam 17th december

Today was Saturday, market day. One of my clearest memories of Amsterdam from age sixteen was wandering between the stalls of the organic farmers market in Noordermarkt with Camilla, buying fresh produce for our dinner that night. It was a part of the city I wanted to experience again, so we left on foot early for the northern neighbourhood of central Amsterdam. The market comprised the usual fare of fruit and vegetables, cheese, meat and bread; I was particularly taken with the stall selling an endless variety of mushrooms from the familiar white button or portobello to the truly alien rare types. Neither of us had eaten a proper breakfast in expectation of getting something there, so we surveyed our options.

In the square where the farmers market takes root we were tempted in the door of Winkel 43, an unassuming café I had known about since my first visit that is famous for its apple pies. So popular are the generous, caramelised slices of this dessert that on market days such as today the café doesn’t even serve its usual food menu, and the workers were in a constant process of cutting up enormous freshly-baked pies and plating them up to be served. We each got a slice—I enjoyed mine with their offering of whipped cream, and fresh mint tea to drink. The pie was incredible, not dry or cakey but rich and the perfect combination of melting apples and crisp warm pastry. Buoyed by this new culinary highlight in our lives, we walked through the rest of the Noordermarkt to see the rest of the typical food, clothing and bric-a-brac stalls, the lunch stands and trucks just beginning to set up for the day.

I had planned to take us to Tony’s Chocolonely after the market, but it was only half past ten and the less well-known and touristy location up in Westerpark didn’t open until midday. Instead we returned to the city centre through the Jordaan neighbourhood and along Haarlemmerdijk where we came upon the main Tony’s Chocolonely Super Store, remarkably devoid of the awesome queue which we had seen snaking around the street outside the day before. It was eleven or eleven-thirty then, in another hour or two the line would be back. The line is not for the store itself, perhaps because at least half the full range of Tony’s flavour is available at every supermarket in the Netherlands, but for the ‘design your own Tony’s’ experience’ that draws hundreds of participants each day.

Since there was no queue at all, I claimed one of the screens before the chocolate-kitchen window and designed my Tony’s: dark chocolate, pretzel pieces, raspberry, red and white wrapper since black was not one of the options. I arrived at this combination after many minutes of troubled paralysis before the list of possibilities; I realised most of my ideas were recreating the flavour combinations of Tony’s bars that already exist, so I decided to go for something ninety per cent random. I put in my phone number to be notified when my custom chocolate bar was ready for collection and we headed back up from the colourful basement shop into the cold.

A bit short on shared activities for now, Mum and I went our separate ways and I pottered around the streets until I received the message that my custom chocolate bar was ready back at Tony’s. The tourist swarm had descended by then—I had to fight my way through the mob to make it to the front of the store, where I witnessed the shameless seagull-like behaviour of the people attempting to snatch handfuls of free samples until the harangued man behind the counter took it out of their reach. From there I crossed over to Centraal Station and, after a brief detour to the supermarket where I rescued someone’s forgotten credit card from the self-serve checkout, I took the north-south metro down to Europaplein.

I remembered the station. It’s nothing like London’s Underground, or Paris’ metro, which are cramped and often dirty—it’s a vast platform, dark grey, clean, not far below the earth. I took the north-south train from here into the city centre when I was staying with Camilla and Rob the first time. Above the station is an expansive, comfortably bleak square and convention centre, today occupied by a winter wonderland funfair with rides and a ticketed entrance. It was clear the cold hadn’t put off any local families from attending this seasonal event, but I passed it by, and went around the corner to de winkel van nijntje (’Miffy’s Shop’) which, a bit like the Moomin Shop, sells every product imaginable in a Miffy bunny rabbit version.

I have fond childhood memories of Miffy, and the shop was so charming with its Miffy Christmas window display and its staff of friendly young people—about my age, running a playlist of popular indie music over the speakers. I ended up buying a soft, classic white Miffy plush toy for myself as a souvenir, and a little crocheted Miffy charm wearing a blue dress for my best friend Madeleine, who loves Miffy and owns many iterations of her in different forms. Before I went on my way back towards the centre of town I sat for a while in a nice café opposite Europaplein, where I drank my coffee and ate my complimentary bite-sized spice biscuit at the window and watched the fairground Ferris wheel turn in the distance. 

This was a neighbourhood I knew better than most of the inner streets from being there before, actually, and it was with half-clarified nostalgia that I followed the wide Ferdinand Bolstraat across the canal and into De Pijp. I walked past an Albert Heijn supermarket and there on the street corner stopped dead—I was looking at a white-painted shop a few metres across plonked in the middle of the pavement; I remembered it. Dutch flags hung over the entrance of the fish stand, a permanent structure with the air of a market stall, unassuming and unnamed. This shop does not appear on any online maps or in search results. It was only by the look of it, there in the flesh, that I knew what it was. Camilla and Rob took me there to try Hollandse Nieuwe—Dutch soused raw herring, traditionally served with diced raw onion and slices of pickle—when I stayed with them. There’s a photo of me standing in front of the same glass refrigerated case, under the same LED panel lights, laughing next to Rob with the paper plate of fish in my hands. 

It took a long time to summon up the courage to go in alone. I nervously asked the man running the shop for the herring dish, though he explained to me that his card reader was broken and he could only accept cash. I didn’t have any but I knew I was going to let nothing stand in my way now. I promised to be back in a minute and rushed across to the supermarket to withdraw twenty euros. Then I hovered before the counter while he prepared my herring fresh, slicing everything up and adorning it with one of the same tiny Dutch flag toothpicks that I had eaten with three years ago. I thanked him in earnest and ignored the embarrassment of taking photos out on the street in front of locals like the tourist I was. It meant something very heavy to me to have this moment again. And I hadn’t meant for it to happen, unlike almost every other detail of this trip which I have planned meticulously, accounting for every destination and event along the way. In its obscurity I had no method of finding the same fish stand again; I hadn’t even considered it, I found myself at its door of PVC strip curtain by accident alone.

The herring itself was delicious. The raw fish of this dish is fresh and delicate in flavour, paired perfectly with sharp onions and pickles. Perhaps it might be offputting to some. It’s not to me. I finished it quickly and cleaned off the toothpick so I could keep the little flag in my pocket as a memento. 

I made it back to the hotel mid-late afternoon and promptly collapsed on my shoebox bed for a rest. For dinner I had booked us a table at Restaurant Entrepot, a fine dining sort of place up on the Entrepotdok canal of reappropriated warehouses. We speed-walked there, mistakenly for stretches along the sardine-tin streets of the central tourist district—I’m afraid I rather put Mum through it getting there on time, but we did. The restaurant was an expansive single dining room inside, very simple and chic, with kitchen and bar exposed. The very kind waitress brought us their daily menu of dishes constructed with all the best seasonal produce of the Netherlands and told us when the wine we’d picked a bit at random was probably not going to be to our tastes. We opted for three courses a la carte.

My first plate, a cold starter, was the most surprising dish of the night to me. It was pearly strips of squid served on a bed of burrata with a garnish of seeds. The squid was almost a little bit like al dente pasta presented with cold creamy cheese sauce, hard to describe without rendering the image somewhat disturbing, but I thought it was incredibly tasty. Next I ate a hot starter dish of roast pumpkin and mushroom, then a main of crisp-skinned, tender-fleshed skate wing; the restaurant served their remarkable food along with a plate of crusty brown bread. Mum and I shared a sweet potato dessert of elegant textures and subtle sugariness. Like everything else we had eaten there, the flavours and form were so precise in a way that was neither overdone nor left unappetizing by pretentious service. It was good food.

We walked back to the hotel around the eastern curve of inner Amsterdam rather than cutting across the middle. We saw Centraal Station and the great towering Christmas tree of Dam Square outside the department store glittering in the night. I dislike using the word magical—I don’t think I felt an awe beyond human nature in view of the lights, as we skirted there around patches of frost and ice forming in the wake of a new cold snap in the city; nothing was inexplicable, I was trying not to forget anything about it because it all meant something to me.

[dutchjan]

December 11, 2018

[bobrootsman]

#flowerbikeman #Haarlemmerdijk #amsterdamcentrum #amsterdam https://www.instagram.com/p/CN6-XMtlfnP/?igshid=1mjeccru6k8h8

[street-photography-amsterdam]

Amsterdam, Haarlemmerdijk 48, (looking towards Haarlemmerstraat).

All rights reserved, please only reblog if you leave all captions, information and credits intact, no reblog to NSFW blogs.

[micheltaanman-blog]

Amsterdam - Spellen en puzzelwinkel het Paard

Amsterdam – Spellen en puzzelwinkel het Paard

[keepleftunlessovertaking]

haarlemmerdijk, amsterdam . . . . #haarlemmerdijk #amsterdam #valentijnsdag #valentinesday #thewayyoungloversdo #mpnselects #everybodystreet #melbournestreetphotography #melbourne_insta #aussiestreetphotography #streetphotographerscommunity #streetweekly #capturestreets #streetsofmelbourne #life_is _street #streetphoto #photostreet #friendsinperson #streetview #storyofthestreet #streetshared #streettogs #streetizm #ourstreets #ig_streetphotography #street_photography #fromstreetswithlove #streetphotographers https://www.instagram.com/p/B8i9XtInF43/?igshid=1hcrsnc7cont

[sprolden]

im visiting amsterdam for like 4 days in november!! any recs on what to do/ what to avoid?? any advice is greatly appreciated ty very much <333

ooh, i'd definitely say go to the van gogh museum & the rijksmuseum (book the van gogh in advance, it's busy), but really any of the museums on museumplein are worth it.

my fav spot in amsterdam is haarlemmerdijk, it's a street with loads of independent shops, maybe that could be nice to visit!. it's not super tourist-y either compared to other parts of amsterdam. fabrique des lumières is also very cool to visit, i recently went with a friend <3

also, since you're visiting in november, i'd try and spot an oliebollenkraam and buying any of the treats there. dutch cuisine peaked there!!!!

there's nothing i'd suggest you avoid tbh, the only thing that comes to mind is de wallen/red light district but that's mostly bc it's super tourist-y and... literally just like. a street. where sex workers happen to work a lot. loads of drunk people in the middle of the afternoon there. it's not unsafe at all and if you wanted to visit it be my guest but i don't think it's very special tbh especially compared to other parts of amsterdam!!

hope u enjoy your visit <333

[sander-vdl-blog]

[New Vegas Haarlem] Een tijdje geleden ontwierp ik deze poster voor het toekomstige veganistische restaurant @newvegas_official in hartje Haarlem. . Op de poster is een sfeerimpressie te zien van wellicht het toekomstige interieur waar @basveldhoven en @dominiquegruter iedere dag aan 'timmeren'. En uiteindelijk "valt de poster omlaag😉" en kan iedereen kennis maken met dit nieuwe restaurant! #winteriscomming #newvegas #haarlem #interiordesign #interior #homedecor #interior4all #interior123 #interiors #design #interiorstyling #decor #interiorinspo #haarlem #amsterdam #Utopia #haarlemcity #ikbenhaarlem #haarlemcityblog #haarlemmerdijk #netherlands #holland #haarlemmerbuurt #haarlemmermeer #vega #veganistisch (bij Haarlem, Netherlands) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5KJ4Y0nM5g/?igshid=h80lqpchqzjb

[gacougnol]

Henk Nieuwenhuijs

Haarlemmerdijk

Amsterdam 1950's

[rijksmuseum-art]

The Baanbrugsteeg looking from the Haarlemmerdijk towards the Vinkenstraat and the Brouwersgracht, 1905, Museum of the Netherlands

Buurtje in de Amsterdamse Jordaan. De Baanbrugsteeg, gezien vanaf de Haarlemmerdijk in de richting van de Vinkenstraat en de Brouwersgracht. In het midden van de straat een vrouw met een kind op de arm.

http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.6259