One of the things I loved about summer was the fact that the days seemed to never end. The sun would set as late as 10 p.m., and you would get lovely "late afternoon" light like this at 7 or 8 p.m.
These days, the sun sets earlier each day. The photo above was taken a little before 6 p.m. The sun disappears from the sky by around 6:30.
But you know what? Part of me actually welcomes the return of night.
I only realized that when Marlon and I went out to for dinner and a movie one Friday night. It was a nice change, because we don't eat out as much as we used to. Dining out here tends to be expensive, which is never a guarantee that it's going to be good. We also tend to stay home a lot to save up for, or recover from, travels.
We went to Rainarai, an Algerian resto on the Prinsengracht bordering the Jordaan.
The atmosphere of this small corner restaurant is eclectic and laid-back, with quirky details like these schoolhouse chairs with African motifs drawn on them.
Service is turo-turo style. As Marlon and I were talking about how it reminded us of home, the girl behind the counter asked us if we were Filipino. Turned out she had visited the Philippines while backpacking around Southeast Asia. She said that of all the places she had visited on her six-month trip, her favorite by far was the Cordilleras: Banaue, Batad, Benguet and Sagada. Wow. To think I've never been to those places myself.
We ate dinner by candlelight while watching the sunset reflected on the windows of the canal houses. And that was when I realized I actually missed nightfall.
While walking to the movie theater, we passed the fairgrounds set up in front of the Royal Palace on Dam Square. We looked at the Ferris wheel and thought: "Hey, this is something we've never done together!" So we did.
We had lots of time to spare before the movie, so instead of having dessert or lounging around in the cinema lobby, we decided to take a walk. It turned out to be a wonderful idea. Because we don't very often go out in the evenings, I still find myself so surprised and delighted by how magical Amsterdam can become at night.
We strolled around the narrow streets and canals in the Centrum, or old center. When I think of the old center, I think red light district and coffee shops, so I rarely go there except to take visitors to see it. Otherwise, sex and weed is not a big draw for me.
But night can blot out all that, and it takes on a different character. Shadows soften and hide, and night lights flatter a city's face.
A darkened shop window turns into a mystery that beckons us to take a closer look.
The play of light and shadow can make almost anything lovely, almost poetic. In the daytime, would we have stopped to look?
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