Baarn

From 1950 onward, Philips’ Phonografische Industrie was located in the center of Baarn. If you happen to own old Phonogram records, the odds are that they have originated here. Years ago, the main building was replaced by houses, and only these two identical buildings, on either side of the factory gate, remain.

Most newly wed couples take this exit, surrounded by friends and relatives and admired by shoppers who happen to pass by. Some, however, prefer the back door...

A few fingers more for you to ignore...

No optical tricks except the reflection of the white pebbles on the shiny black surface of the headstone.

It is hard to please everyone: this one’s for Seth, who loves guitars, and Amber, who has a penchant for the weird. It is the strangest grave I ever saw in my home country, where regulations are ubiquitous and very strict. Perhaps this was allowed under the condition that no real Gibson would be used...

This African-style house has intrigued me from my early youth. Today, you can’t see much of it anymore, but it is still among my favorites.

This African-style house has intrigued me from my early youth. Today, you can’t see much of it anymore, but it is still among my favorites.

Many of Baarn’s magnificent houses have disappeared since I was young, but this one, perhaps the biggest of them all, is still standing. Part of the premises was, for many years, the botanic garden of Utrecht University, but the garden that remains is still huge. In my youth, it was also the scene of the “Baarn murder case”: a son of the family and a friend had killed a fellow student and buried him in the garden. When it was found, most of the corpse had been consumed by unslaked lime and, at first, was thought to date from WWII, but eventually the truth came out. I have never heard about the motive –it may have been just the thrill of the act (I can’t help being reminded of the Hitchcock movie “Rope”). In the meanwhile, Baarn has had a second and even a third murder case, but for today, this one should be enough...

For my aversion to barbers we have to go back many years. Yes, Dr. Freud, this is where it all began. The “Sparrenlaan” once had quite a few shops now turned into regular houses: there, you could buy vegetables (2x), groceries, bread (2x), meat (2x), milk, electronics, notions, and other things I can’t think of at the moment. The house above used to be a barber shop, for men on the first floor, for women on the second. Every fourth week I was sent here, with a guilder in the sweaty palm of my hand, very much aware that there were better things to do, and that the ugly duckling would only leave uglier.

Who is that panting, 53-year old, standing beneath the street lamp? I guess it must be some male prostitute. It can hardly be me: I’m taking this picture, remember?

I suppose leaving the shutter open for 10 seconds isn’t the way to get a sharp picture of a train passing by...

At 1AM, the drive leading to the Baarn cemetery doesn’t look particularly inviting. The color shift is due to different street lamp technology.

When I was a boy, this was just a small kiosk where we bought candy on our way to the swimming pool.

I’ve never been inside, and the only thing I know for sure is that Mr. Escher doesn’t run the shop himself...