New Neighbourhood

The move was a success.. everything fitted into the car, my appalling navigational skills didn't let us down and we found our way into the city without a hitch. I am finally an Amsterdam resident!

I was very excited to take a walk out this evening. It was great to walk round the corner and see the lights glinting on the Amstel, knowing that it is now 'my neighbourhood'! Once the boxes had been set down me, Aaron, Ton and Alice headed out for a meal at a local Ethiopian restaurant. This was great fun. We each had a quarter of a huge round platter from which we scooped up food in ripped-off pieces of pancake using our fingers.

Moving On Again...

I am sitting here spending my last hour in my apartment in Zaandam, feeling strangely sentimental. I should be used to the whole moving process by now, but always seem to underestimate the time it will take me to do it. The nomadic existence that I have fallen into has meant that I have moved no less than eight times in the past three years.

I am totally amazed how much stuff I seem to have accumulated since March, especially considering the fact that I moved here with a meager suitcase-full of possessions just over eight months ago. There was me thinking that I led a zen-like existence. I'd forgotten about the dozens of trips to Ikea and, (judging by the amount of H+M carrier bags I counted yesterday) the excessive amount of clothes shopping that's been going on.

So it's goodbye to Zaandam and hello to Amsterdam. The end of an era (and the beginning of a new stage in my Dutch Adventure). The title of this blog is accurate at last!! I'm going to miss Max, my crazy landlord and his peculiar ways, along with the unique apartment that he has provided. It's going to be nice not to have to worry about the lights blacking out every time I use a particular combination of appliances, but this almost added to its charm in the end. I'm also going to miss my gezellig little room with its canal-view from where I can watch the ducks swimming past. Who knows, I might even miss the 1:06 train journeys home after nights out in the City, but to be honest I doubt it! Amsterdam is the place where it all happens and I'm looking forward to being right there in the thick of it.

Cross-Cultural Fashion

Me and my friend Aaron have been formulating a theory on why many Dutch men seem to wear their trousers too short. It's to give ample clog-clearance space. This made us laugh quite a bit.

Amsterdam is full of men in kilts at the moment. This invasion is just in time for the Holland v. Scotland match that is due to be taking place at the Ajax Stadium tomorrow night. Everywhere I looked on my journey home tonight I could see tartan and hairy knees. I'm dying to see someone team it with a nice pair of clogs in the name of International relations.

Chasing Sinterklaas

I seem to have missed out on a lot of Dutch traditional celebrations this year... I was out of the country for Queen's Day so didn't get the chance to dress up in orange, drink too much beer and sell stuff on the pavement. The spring carnival seemed to pass me by when I was looking in the other direction and even though I was around for Pinksteren, I was under the misguided impression that I was supposed to wear pink. Apparently not.

So today I decided to put things right by paying a visit to Sinterklaas. Sinterklaas (in case you haven't already guessed... the Dutch version of Santa Claus) has arrived in the Netherlands from Spain today on his paddle steamer and has been parading through the streets of Amsterdam on a big white horse, accompanied by lots of little politically-incorrect helpers. These Moorish helpers are called Zwarte Pieten (Black Petes) and they all look like something out of the Black and White Minstrel Show, apart from the velvet knickerbockers and hats with a feather in. Their job is to give out handfuls of gingerbread to the children in the crowd. If I was a five year old and some weird looking blacked-up Dutchman in velvet knickerbockers offered me candy I'd run the other way, but I guess the Dutch kids are used to it.

Perhaps Sinterklaas needed a faster horse (or paddle steamer) but I wasn't in a particularly festive mood by the time he arrived at Leidseplein, an hour behind schedule. It's been a cold, wet day today and I was decidedly soggy by the time he trotted by. I was substantially cheered up, however, by a kindly Zwarte Piet, who filled my hood up with little gingerbread cookies. Sinterklaas himself didn't disappoint either. There was definitely no elastic on his beard (I checked carefully) and he looked pretty regal up there in his posh robes. British Father Christmasses could learn a thing or two from the Dutch I reckon.

Learn more about Sinterklaas here. You can even sing along to the songs if you fancy reading a bit of Dutch (I was very disappointed that I couldn't join in with the singing today. If I'm still here next year I'm going to come prepared with a full repertoire of Dutch Christmas songs).

Claire, Friend to the Chickens

Received from Lisa for my birthday:
One pair of multi-coloured socks with individual toe compartments - I love them. Claire (my sister) calls them my 'chicken feet' for some reason known only to her and her strange imagination. I think she has a thing about chickens at the moment because she was having a conversation with one as she removed it from the fridge the other night.

Planting my feet

It's nice to be back on Dutch soil (or more correctly, sand). I guess it's the whole 'land-reclaiming' thing, but when they lift up the pavements here it reveals sand rather than mud. I know this because at any given time half of Amsterdam seems to be in the process of being dug up, sometimes by a workman wearing clogs (very sensible when you think about it - I bet no one ever broke a toe by dropping a paving stone in Amsterdam). The first time I saw a clog-wearing workman I was very excited. It was the same childish glee I felt when boarding my first double-decker train or when I discovered that they call peanut butter 'peanut cheese' here. It's been fun finding out the little differences, however daft, that make you look at things in a new light. I hope that familiarity doesn't take the fun out of it.

Messing with my Head

Am back in NL, a little disorientated. This is partly because I've been making my brain ache by reading '101 Experiments in the Philosophy of Everyday Life' by Roger-Pol Droit on the journey. I'd recommend it if you don't mind freaking yourself out a little by re-examining mundane daily events until they start to mess with your head. I tried out exercise four: 'Let the World Last 20 minutes' during the time between boarding and take off and pondered the meaning of 'I' (exercise 3) in the departure lounge. I'm going to save exercise 96 'Kill someone in your head' for when I'm in a really bad mood.

The disorientation is also due to the fact that I've slept in four different places in five nights in the vain attempt to visit everyone I wanted to see. Exercise 8 ('Recall where you were this morning') is proving difficult at this point. Apologies to those I didn't get to - I promise to catch up soon.

It's late - time to hang up my clogs and dream of windmills.

Cake-Worthy People

I'm flying off (again!) to the UK tomorrow evening to celebrate my birthday with my family. Because tomorrow is my last day at work before I reach the grand old age of 32 I have ordered a cake to share with the people at work.

This is no ordinary cake.

When Lisa was celebrating her birthday a few weeks ago she asked the chef from the company restaurant to bake her a cake to order. The result was a masterpiece. I've never tasted something quite so melt-in-mouth gorgeous. It was the kind of cake that would make you want to marry the man that baked it.

Keen to repeat the experience I've asked him to bake me an identical one. Just the thought of this culinary delight is making my mouth water. The thing is, I can only cut the cake into 8, or maybe 10 slices maximum. In a quiet moment of daydreaming about cake this afternoon (this sugar-obsession is going to have to stop) I was thinking about the people I deemed worthy enough of sharing this glorious taste experience with me.

The thing that made me smile is that whichever way I thought of it, the cake-worthy people far outnumbered the slices. I suddenly realised that there are so many people who I have become very attached to in the seven months or so that I've been working with them. Those special people have made me feel welcome and valued in a new job, a new company and a new country.

A girl couldn't ask for a nicer birthday gift.