Few things are, I think, more romantic than 1. skating on natural ice 2. European cities with canals. So when the two go hand in hand, you have a winner.
I grew up using figure skates, but they’re poo-pooed here. The Dutch are all about long blades – for speed, for endurance, for those long strokes you take with your hands clasped behind your back.
I’d never tried them before, but there weren’t any figure skates around, and there was no way I was going to pass up skating on the canals.
It was a gorgeous day, and people were out in droves.
There was a concert on the ice at the Pulitzer,
and some were even using the ice because it was easier to walk on than the streets, or just because they could.
The ice is gone now, but those handful of days where walking (or skating) on ice was possible, instilled a wonder in everyone I know. It was the only question people were asking each other at work, on the streets: Heb je geschaatst? Did you skate?
Yes, I did.