Hello—

From a train to Madrid. It’s been an hour and another couple of hours till I reach the destination. I don’t hate trains as much as I hate airplanes. I find the environment of the train conducive to creative work. The leg room, the views. Nothing exciting is happening. I took this train from Seville—I could have flown in 40 mins to Madrid—but I wanted to be on a train. The speed is fast enough that you can see bask in the glory of distant landscapes and still get a feeling that you’re moving swiftly. The sense of progress with a feeling of quietness.

Couple of weeks ago, I did a 100km ride on my e-bike and fractured my hand (it's all better now… almost?). It all sounds dramatic and to some extent it is — but let's begin with the 100km ride.

The number 100 — it is an arbitrary number but since I rode 80km the last reported ride, the next ride had to be more than that. 100km seemed like challenging enough to be validated but more importantly it was the distance to the northernmost town of mainlands Netherlands called Den Helder. Conveniently enough, it would also be the remaining route of the official LF Kustroute - aka Dutch Coastal Route, that begins in Cadzand-Bad, near Belgium border and ends in Bad Nieuweschan, near German border.

If you remember, we had done the bottom halve of the same route in our previous ride and we wanted to see what rest of the route looked like in up north and spoiler alert: it didn't disappoint.

On our route, we passed multiple beach towns that did not look like the typical flat lands at all. What they did remind us of was the start of Black Forest in Germany or towns in Ardennes, Belgium.

When we were not in the beach towns, we were in the Dune Reserve with sand that was as white as the afternoon sun.

Soon the white dunes were covered in grass that looked like valleys. If I were to drop you right in the middle of this without the context of where you are and where you came from you probably wouldn’t be able to tell if this was flat Netherlands.

While I was floating away on a slightly uncomfortable saddle, marvelling at the magnificence of all the nature all around, it hit me just how privileged cyclists are in this country (duh!). There's no way we would have discovered these places on cars or even public transportation. There's no way we would have thought of coming to these places after knowing about these places. There's no way we would have experienced this place the way we experienced this place if we weren't on bikes.

And so, paddle after paddle we floated on the designated path. Every once in a while we would stop to take pictures and get back in the rhythm again. The difference between photographing while walking and cycling is the amount of friction involved to step off from the rhythm of the activity, taking the photograph and get back in the activity’s rhythm. While walking, the friction is extremely low because the activity isn’t paced. You process the landscape, you get out the camera, snap and on your way. But while cycling, I found the friction to be high — high enough to miss some photographs that could have been good photographs. Every time bringing the bike to a halt is a conscious decision. It might be an interesting experiment to see how the photographs differ when you take them while walking and while biking.

While I'm thinking these thoughts, around 87km mark in the ride, I remember hitting the brakes and then tripping over on the empty asphalt bike path about a meter ahead. Almost flying over. The bike stopped right where I hit the brakes and all of this happened in the smallest fraction of second.

It took me a second to realise I wasn’t on the bike anymore so I pulled myself together (I was conscious and no head injury so that's good!), checked my limb and found that I can't move my left hand very well. I just had a fall, what do I expect from myself — I tell this to myself and pick my bike to examine it. No deal breakers in the bike apart from minor scratches here and there.

I take a few minutes to orient myself again and try to hold the bike but now the pain in my left arm is unbearable to a point where I can’t straighten it. A thought crosses my mind — did I break it? But no, if I had broken it I would have been in a lotttt of pain. Now looking back, I think I was in a lot of pain but in the moment it felt like the limit of the pain would be higher if I had really broken it.

I lowered the seat post height so that I depend less on my arms and cycled the remaining 14kms or so. At Den Helder, we got the dinner and took the train back and made to Amsterdam the same night. I cycled again about 4kms from the station back to my place and the pain had doubled. I wrapped a crepe bandage around my hand and went to sleep only to be awaken a few times throughout the night.

The next morning I decided to call the hospital and ask for an appointment. After hearing my story, they thought I should wait till Monday to get my X-rays done. When the results came out, it was indeed a teeny tiny fracture on the lower part of my elbow. Thankfully, the minor fracture didn't warrant a cast. Two weeks later, it's still recovering and hopefully will be better in couple of more weeks.

So that's the story of a 100km ride and a broken limb.

Stay safe and until next time,

Kamal

PS: Photos were taken on iPhone 12 Pro (ProRAW) and developed on the horrendous Photos app on Mac. It was painfully slow to make adjustments even on a “M1 MacBook Air.”

After feeling “blah” for the last fourteen months in this pandemic, the last couple of months have been ... not blah. Sort of. I got into cycling — no wait… let me put it this way: I got my first road bike in April and started cycling and then… I got into cycling. Since April, I’ve cycled about 1500kms — odd rides in and around Amsterdam — each ride hovering around 25-30kms mark.

After two road bikes (funny story: the first road bike was probably too big for me and I bought it on a whim because I liked the colours (?!?) and also there weren’t many bikes available — more here.), I got an e-bike that changed the scale of rides that I do now. The rides hover around 50 km mark and rides of this length make a big difference. Now, apart from the neighbourhood rides (~25 kms), city rides (~60 kms) are suddenly possible. It is a weirdly freeing feeling that I can cycle from a city to another without running myself into ground.

In comparison to regular bikes, I burn about 80% of calories riding the e-bikes but commutatively, I go out more often since more rides of varying length are now possible.

Dear friends (and family!),

This is your friend, writing to you from a rainy, cloudy Amsterdam about… [And “…” being a Placeholder. This is the last time I'll be making this pun. You're welcome.]

I'll be honest. I'm a master procrastinator and for the last few weeks I got sucked into Productivity Porn. An intellectualised and highly sophisticated kind of procrastination. The kind of procrastination that makes you think motion is progress. Spending hours, looking for your next book to read is motion. Picking up the next available book (and tossing it aside when it starts being a drag) is progress. Having come to this insane (!) realisation that reading about productivity is not productivity but being productive is productivity, I thought I will share what I’ve learnt about productivity as a note to myself and as a warning to you and call it a day.

Dearest friends!

This month I devoured into the Murakami world — immersing myself in one of his recent novels “Killing Commendatore” while also reading “Who We're Reading When We're Reading Murakami” by side. A hearty combination of entrée and an appetiser that seemed to go well together.

While the KC had all the typical Murakami ingredients, i.e., surrealism entangled with the real world, a sensitive protagonist, who is also un-macho, lonely and on a journey of (re)discovery; it lacked the good ol’ Murakami lustre. However, reading “Who We're Reading …” by the side brought home all that was missing in the KC.

Summer 2020, Dolomites

These are "Three Peaks of Lavaredo" in South Tyrol of Dolomites. We decided to walk around it — a complete loop. Looking at it from the all possible directions. It was early morning as evidenced by fog up above (burns off fast and then magically appears again without a destined place) that adds coolness to the breeze. Summer on the high plateau can be delectable as honey.

For this particular walk, we didn't aim for the peaks. Aiming for the highest point is not the only way to climb a mountain. We were just not interested in discovering a pinnacle-point from which we could become the “catascopos, the looker-down who sees all with a god-like eye.”

Phew! That was a long hiatus.

But I'm here now. We are here now. In this "new normal" — a phrase that I have still not grown accustomed to and yet I hear it everyday in some form or the other.

Hope you're well and doing relatively(?) better.

Hello from a 28°C weather, where the sun leaves its marks on the day like it should... preferably everywhere (I am looking at you Amsterdam!).

Feb - Mar is a great time to be in Bihar. The sun shines in a way that's desirable and not unbearable like the rest of the year. And I happen to be here during this pleasant yet strange(?!?) times. My flights were cancelled at the last moment and now I am happily stuck in what I would call "glorious" weather and for everyone else here, it's just... weather. It's borderline strange to suddenly turn into an outsider from being an insider. My memory is stuck in a particular time of the place but the place has moved on.

Hello —

And welcome to the 13th transmission of Placeholder — a newsletter about who knows what and we are still figuring out as we go along. All you need to know is this me, your friend, writing to you, as your friend. Sometime, somewhere our paths crossed and I took the liberty of adding you to this newsletter.

It's been a couple of weeks since I returned from San Francisco. "Is this your first time in the States...?" was the most common question I got. It started with the immigration official who perhaps read my face of discomfort after a 16 hrs flight and 3 hrs of standing in the queue. I figured her question wasn't inquisitive but rather rhetorical, subtly suggesting that I should get used to such discomforts while travelling west.

Happy New Year folks!

When the first iPhone was released, about 12 years ago, it boasted a 2.0 MP rear camera — sans gps geotagging. It was a phone that had a camera. Now, 12 years later, the iPhone 11 Pro boasts three — three?!? — 12MP cameras. Ultra Wide, Wide and Telephoto cameras have varying apertures of ƒ/2.4, ƒ/1.8 and ƒ/2.0. It has portrait mode with Depth Control and “Night mode.”

It’s basically a camera that also happens to be a phone.

Just over the last month, the iPhone 11 Pro joined me in places like Amsterdam, Prague, Vienna, Bratislava and Berlin. In weather that would be best described as cold and unforgiving. At first, I was suspicious of the value of a “smartphone camera.” But contrary to my suspicion, it captured everything thrown at it and into it while taking a humble space in my pocket.

Finally!

After a month, this weekend we had what I'd like to call: "a day with relatively better weather." When I say "relatively better weather" I meant the day was still gloomy and downcast but what made it "relatively better" was unlike other days, it wasn't raining. That's all it takes to call a weather "relatively better" when you have been in the Netherlands for about six months. I hope you understand the underlying pain that I am trying to hide in the play of words.

To bank on the "relatively better" weather, we drove an hour away from the city to Hoge Veluwe National Park, in Gelderland province. The park is humongous and in this weather we thought we would have the park all to ourselves but as it turned out many people wanted to cash on the "relatively better" weather day.

Once you get in the park, you can pickup bicycles (for free) and ride around. We didn't have a specific plan but we did know that this park housed the second largest collection of Van Goghs in the world. As we were making our way to the museum, through sand dunes and woodlands, we stumbled into a Christmas market in the middle of nowhere. We parked the bicycles, and did what you're expected to do in a Christmas market: browse, eat, drink.

Ladies and Gentlemen from four different continents —

This dispatch is going to be more picture-laden than words. Let's get going.

I was in Ljubljana, Slovenia just a couple of weeks ago and it was nothing I had expected from a capital city. There wasn't anything urban about the city and yet everything was. From the car free city centre to an enormous emphasis on sustainable development — the city felt like one of the best kept secrets of Europe. It's not as much on the radar of tourists who flock other well known cities like Prague, Paris, Berlin and Amsterdam. The city inhibits a park (covering an area of five square kilometres), a 900-year old castle and a 300-year old cathedral all within a walking distance of not more than 15 mins. 30 mins of drive outside the city would take you to one of the most picturesque lakes — Lake Bled. Another 30 would take you to 800-year old Predjama Castle and Postojna Caves formed by Pivka River over millions of years.

Kind hearted folks that I am grateful to know —

Hello from the start of the infamous weather in Netherlands. Days have started appearing to be small, dull and full of rain and despair. Nights... not so much. Just couple of months ago, length of the nights were half of the days'. Now it's equal.

Last month, I gave Atomic Habits (by James Clear) another read. This time the goal was to implement the book in real life. Here's an account of that implementation.

Hello from 2,352 m above surface.

It’s 9 PM now and I am holing up in a mountain refuge nearby Lac Blanc with 3-4 other walkers. But I am not supposed to be here. Let me explain.

When I arrived in Chamonix — a small French town at the base of Mont Blanc — this morning, I had a few short hikes in mind for the next couple of days. Lac Blanc and the La Jonction were two of them. Lac Blanc is a a glacier lake that sits high above the valley, directly across the Mont Blanc Massif. La Jonction is a spectacular ridge between two huge glaciers that flow from Mont Blanc. In my fair amount of research, I had found these two be slightly more approachable than other hikes in the area aka to be done as one day hike. For our first “short hike” we picked Lac Blanc.

After a quick lunch in the city centre — around 1PM — we started our ascend. Conveniently the trailhead wasn’t too far from the city centre. During the day, the weather seemed to be on our side, but luck wasn’t. Almost all major ski stations were closed till December. This meant walking all the way up and down. No shortcuts possible with the gondolas. Google Map showed the walking distance to be little more than 10 km. According to the app, it wouldn’t take more than 3 hrs to walk each side. 3 hrs of walk didn’t seem like a big deal. Weather forecast showed twilight till 8 PM so we could easily spend an hour so by the lake and be back in light.

[7 Sep]

Hello from a train back to Zurich!

If you get this message then it means I didn't fall off one of the cliffs of the snow laden paths during the hike earlier today. I couldn't walk on those lethal black ice that had accumulated on the paths last night.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears —

Just this past weekend I was in Rome (In case the clue wasn't enough!). It was an overwhelming visit to be the least. Not in a negative way, but everything — historical legacies, awe-inspiring art and the delicious roman feasting — was all simultaneously stimulating. I have never experienced blowing off my mind and taste buds at the same time!

I have been wondering... what can I write about Rome that's not been written before? People have been flocking Rome as a holiday destination from as early as 1300 when a Pope declared the first ever Holy Year(1). Ever since then Rome has been written about from various perspectives. Following that tradition, I can try to describe Rome from my own vantage point. So here it goes —

Hello from Amsterdam, from the middle — that is, the cloudy, the rainy and some times a tad chilly — of August. I am hiding in my apartment, in a corner, looking through the window whenever sun shines on the distant window and gets reflected to my face.

In today's letter I want to think out loud about a quote that I stumbled upon recently.

Hallo from Innsbruck, Austria!

(Actually, this is not true. Well, a part of it is since I started this letter while I was there and now I am finishing it up in Amsterdam.)

This is Placeholder — Issue 4, and in theory this is a letter where I write about books I have been reading and places I have been traveling. Speaking of which, I travelled from Amsterdam to Munich and to Innsbruck. I arrived early morning from Munich after a short picturesque train ride, with absolutely no plan in mind. It was a complete impromptu trip. All I knew that it was a city in Alps and that was good enough reason to see it. I will save you the trouble of reading and imagining yourself how beautiful this city and its surroundings were and show you some pictures instead:

Hello from a coffeeshop. It's almost end of July here in Amsterdam and I am wearing a tee and carrying a light jacket in my bag and I can't remember July to be this chilly in the history of many Julys in my entire life. Which I definitely love. What's not to love about a 21° day with a tad of sunshine?! (I am told to soak this in because this doesn't last for long here.)

Last week I shared some learnings from the book: How to Read a Book. And couple of you replied mentioning why or why not reading a book the way it's suggested in that book makes sense. Definitely the suggested way is meant to applied when reading for information (knowledge?). Another way to read (fast) for information is the Tim Ferris's method but I am skeptical of it.

Reading for pleasure — fiction, poetry, drama — is subjective to person. Whatever suits. Speaking of which, I managed to get through this book called: Lincoln in the Bardo.

Hello hello —

More than a month has passed away since I last wrote — how have you been?

I recently made my way through "How to Read a Book" and got some useful insights on, well, reading a book well. The book is about eighty years old but the suggestions on reading a book well still stand valid.

Well, hello there!

How have you been?

If you're reading this dispatch — the first of its kind — there's a high chance that I added you personally to the list. If not, someone forwarded you this letter and I apologize. You can read more about it here.