The wind picks up while you’re still on the train. I sewed a ribbon to my hat and I’m still worried about its survival. The city unfolds slowly, a pop-up book of modernity blossoming among antiquated buildings.

Experimental architecture is all over the place. The city is not just a jewel box of Dutch Renaissance buildings. It’s a living, breathing place heaving under the weight of expectation.

We booked a scavenger hunt, my best friend and I. It was the ideal way to see the city, and I cannot recommend it enough. Den Haag’s monuments are not teeming with tourists the way Amsterdam’s museums are. Some you might even walk passed without realizing it. Unlike Amsterdam, there is no need to perform “Dutch-ness”, no need to show off. There were lots of people, but it didn’t feel crowded the way Amsterdam does; it felt elegant, refined, sophisticated, and at the same time welcoming, with sites up on the roads rather than hidden behind glass. Everything is street level, unassuming… until you reach the Palace of Peace.

Right away there is an international feel to it– from the ornate gates to the massive structure. This is a court meant to impress outsiders. Even the Dutch parliament doesn’t have the majesty of that place.

Still, locals largely ignore the Palace. They aren’t awed by the show of authority. They loll on the lawn outside like it’s just any other park, which for them it is, with ice cream vendors on bikes– of course they are on bikes– setting up shop around the periphery.

Dutch parliament is a sea of turrets rising from a reflecting pool, big but street level, hidden behind a wall and an innocuous door. The Dutch Masters like Rembrandt and Vermeer are housed in a building tucked in a corner, with no driveway and no fanfare.  It’s difficult to find by car. I didn’t even see a sign for any of the Royal Palaces. 

The bike lanes here aren’t as treacherous as those in Amsterdam. The people of Den Haag are not mad at you for merely being alive. They haven’t surrendered their city to the tourism trade; people here still live and work without having to fight the crowds. And they like it that way.

Den Haag is always “Den Haag”, The Hague. Never just “Hague”. It’s a city that demands the article. It’s like Cher or Beyonce. When you’re a personage you don’t need a title, or a surname. When it’s a city, especially this city, it’s the world that adds the articles. 

Den Haag should have been the capital of the Netherlands. There. I said it. The thing on everyone’s mind. Once you step into Den Haag it’s obvious why the Royalty of the Netherlands chose to reside here. It’s the “residence”, not the “capitol”. The message is clear: Let the rest of the world have Amsterdam, we know better.

The people look like they are in on a secret, and they are. When you come to the Netherlands no one talks about going to Den Haag. No one brags about what they did here or how crazy it gets. The Dutch already sacrificed Amsterdam to the altar of cosmopolitanism and travelogues and tour buses; this, they chose to keep for themselves.

So don’t tell anyone about Den Haag. Just go yourself.

Thumbnail photo by Michael Fousert from Unsplash