It's been a more than a week since I am back from my trip to Netherlands, and yet I haven't found enough time to write about it. It has been busy around here. In fact, I had been to London and back in this time and I am leaving for Mexico day after tomorrow, so yeah, its been a bit of a struggle to find time to write. Enough of preamble, back at it!
I took a spontaneous day trip from Amsterdam to Utrecht—just a short train ride, but it felt like stepping into a quieter, more intimate version of the Netherlands.
Utrecht Centraal station immediately impressed me. It’s vast, modern, and seamlessly connected to Hoog Catharijne, the mall you step straight into as you leave the platforms. For a few minutes, I was surrounded by glass storefronts and the hum of everyday shopping life—but I knew the real Utrecht lay just beyond. I walked through the mall, following signs toward the old city, and within minutes the atmosphere changed completely. The canals appeared, calm and reflective, lined with historic buildings that seemed untouched by time.
I made my way toward the Dom Tower, the iconic landmark of Utrecht. I hadn’t booked a ticket to climb it—something I regretted slightly—but standing at its base was still powerful. The tower rises 112 meters above the city, once part of a grand cathedral before a storm in 1674 separated it from the main church. Even without the climb, it anchors the entire city skyline.
A short walk away sat the Domkerk (St. Martin’s Cathedral), Gothic and serene. Inside, the scale of the space struck me immediately—high vaulted ceilings, tall arches, and soft light filtering through stained glass.
Two windows in particular held my attention.
The first was a tall, narrow Gothic window filled with vivid reds, deep blues, and warm golds. It depicted a layered biblical scene—figures robed in flowing garments, their faces stylized but expressive. The upper panels seemed almost celestial, with light radiating outward, while the lower sections grounded the story with more human detail. The colors weren’t just decorative—they carried symbolism, with blues evoking divinity and reds hinting at sacrifice, something common in Gothic stained glass storytelling.
The second window felt more modern in contrast. It featured bold geometric patterns interwoven with figures—possibly saints or evangelists—arranged vertically, each holding symbolic objects. The lines were cleaner, the colors slightly more restrained, but the composition had a rhythm to it, almost like a visual hymn. It seemed to bridge centuries of art within the same church.
The stained glass inside the Domkerk isn’t all original. Much of it was lost centuries ago, and what you see today is a blend of old and newer work. Some of the most striking windows were designed in the 20th century by the Dutch artist Richard Roland Holst, whose bold colors and structured compositions feel both modern and timeless within the Gothic space.
Inside the Domkerk, there was also a temporary exhibition: “Rituelen in perspectief” (Rituals in Perspective), featuring the work of photographer Bert Pot. The exhibition ran from March 20 to May 27, 2026, and focused largely on black‑and‑white photography.
https://filmkrant.nl/agenda/focus-rituelen-in-perspectief/
https://domkerk.nl/evenementen/expositie-rituelen-in-perspectief
https://www.studiobertpot.com/xpanbnw
Several of the B&W stills in the 3rd link above was on display. His images explored rituals—both everyday and ceremonial—captured in analog film. The black‑and‑white format stripped everything down to light, shadow, and texture. Moving from the centuries-old stained glass to these stark, modern photographs created a striking contrast, but somehow they complemented each other. Both were, in their own way, about meaning and interpretation.
One photograph in particular stayed with me. It was titled Jump—a black-and-white image of a girl and a boy caught mid-air as they leapt into an incoming wave. There was a perfect sense of timing in it: the suspended moment just before impact, where joy, freedom, and a hint of recklessness all seemed to collide. The grainy monochrome tones made it feel timeless, like it could have been taken decades ago or just yesterday. But what struck me most was how familiar it felt. It immediately reminded me of my daughters—their energy, their laughter, and those fleeting moments of childhood that seem to pass too quickly. Standing there in the quiet of the cathedral, surrounded by centuries of history, this simple photograph brought me right back to something deeply personal.
After the cathedral, I stepped into the Pandhof van de Dom. Hidden between the church and university buildings, it felt like discovering a secret. The Pandhof is a cloister garden dating back to the late 14th century, once a place for contemplation and even a cemetery. Today it’s a beautifully restored garden, with geometric beds of herbs and flowers, trimmed hedges, and a central fountain surrounded by Gothic arches. I sat there for a while, enjoying the quiet. It was one of those rare places where time seems to soften.
From there, I wandered along Nieuwegracht, one of Utrecht’s most picturesque canals. The houses lining the water were stunning—narrow façades, tall windows, and elegant proportions. As I walked, I found myself imagining what it would be like to own one of these canal houses. Naturally, I pulled up some real estate listings. Reality hit quickly: homes here often range from around €850,000 to well over €4 million, with an average listing price north of €2 million.
Still, it was fun to dream.
Eventually, I stopped at Bakkerij Moolenbeek on Nieuwegracht and picked up a hummus sandwich. The bakery itself felt like a step back in time—it’s been around since the 1800s and is known for its fresh, handmade bread and cozy atmosphere.
The sandwich was simple but perfect—fresh bread, creamy hummus, nothing overcomplicated. Sometimes that’s all you need.
I continued walking to Sonnenborgh Observatory and found a quiet spot in the adjacent park, Servaasbolwerk. I sat on a bench and ate my sandwich while watching life unfold—especially in the nearby dog park, where a group of dogs ran wildly, chasing each other in circles.
It felt like a very local moment, completely removed from the tourist crowds. Not that there were too many tourists at Utrecht this particular day anyways!
From there, I walked north along the canal toward Utrecht Maliebaan station, planning to catch a train back to Utrecht Centraal. But travel rarely goes exactly as planned. There were signal issues on the rail lines, so trains weren’t running properly. I ended up taking a bus back to Utrecht Centraal instead. When I arrived, things got worse—trains back to Amsterdam were cancelled altogether.
So I adapted.
I took Bus 120 back to Amsterdam instead—a much slower journey, but unexpectedly rewarding. As we left the city behind, the landscape opened up into green fields, small villages, and quiet roads. It wasn’t the fast, efficient return I had planned—but it gave me one last perspective on the Netherlands.
Utrecht surprised me. I didn't know much about the town, in fact still don't, but went over there on a whim and without any particular plan.
It has the canals and charm of Amsterdam, but with a slower pace and a more intimate feel. From Gothic cathedrals and hidden gardens to dream-worthy canal houses and simple, perfect sandwiches, it’s a city that rewards wandering.
And sometimes, even the travel disruptions become part of the story.
