There is another Netherlands, far away in terms of ideology and attitude from the one we knew a decade ago, a sort of parallel country with indistinct borders where architecture is no longer a social instrument capable of forcing innovation and producing change. There is an unsuspected Netherlands made up of wooden buildings that seek a concrete relationship with reality, small-sized dwellings engendered by the economic crisis and a protective attitude toward users of space. A little-known Netherlands that takes its distance from the optimism and the major projects of the 1990s, where a post-ideological approach is emerging to planning and architects have focused attention on the visual and social characteristics of the territory in which they operate. A surprising country where the new projects use a modern alphabet to reinterpret forms belonging to the past, maintaining an identity capable of capturing the collective imagination to the same degree as recent work impressed those in the know. In this “other” country ignored by the media, the buildings are lived in and carefully judged because they do not possess the extrovert and visionary nature of their more famous peers and do not seek the judgment of professionals but of the inhabitants. This unexpected architecture disorientates those who simply glance at it en passant.