I have two whole blissful weeks leave from work and, against the odds and after weeks of pouring rain, the sun is shining and it looks like it's going to stay that way for quite a while yet. Yesterday I bought my first pair of roller blades so it's definitely going to be a Vondelpark day today. All in all, yesterday was a day of bargains. I was bracing myself for a hefty bill in the skate shop but got a fantastic deal. Later when walking home last night from a show at the Kleine Comedy (for which we got free tickets) some dodgy guy sold us a bike for 23 Euro. Now I admit this was wrong and that I'm probably profiting from someone else's misery and I promised myself I would never buy anything from a junkie and I am a BAD PERSON, but my moral standards slipped slightly after a couple of glasses of wine in the theatre bar. After all, it's a very nice bike.
2.3.05: As an update to this entry. It was bad karma... someone nicked the bike from infront of our appartment a few weeks later. That's what you get for getting involved in the seedy world of Amsterdam junkies!
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Good Karma
We can stay!!
A few days ago we got the happy news that we can stay in our apartment. At last, a whole year's uninterrupted contract! I am very glad that those bloody moving boxes don't have to be packed/unpacked again. The mere sight of a cardboard box makes me break out in a cold sweat these days.
Mum has been over for the weekend, enjoying the sites and sounds of the Pijp and covering herself in mud in the garden. The poor thing came over for a couple of relaxing days and ended up pulling up weeds and stamping on snails. It wasn't all hard work though, and we managed to tear her away from the flower beds to check out the UitMarkt (an outdoor arts festival with lots of 'sneak previews' of forthcoming cultural events to sample). There were some very polished performances going on, which was a marked contrast to the Albert Cuyp summer street festival we went to the weekend before. It was pretty surreal watching the local Hare Krishna band demonstrate their chanting skills whilst the local 'mad market man' danced around in his purple ski suit. He seemed very pleased with all the attention. I'm not going to make any negative comments about the music however, because I guess I'll create bad karma and come back in my next life as a one of those snails.
A few days ago we got the happy news that we can stay in our apartment. At last, a whole year's uninterrupted contract! I am very glad that those bloody moving boxes don't have to be packed/unpacked again. The mere sight of a cardboard box makes me break out in a cold sweat these days.
Mum has been over for the weekend, enjoying the sites and sounds of the Pijp and covering herself in mud in the garden. The poor thing came over for a couple of relaxing days and ended up pulling up weeds and stamping on snails. It wasn't all hard work though, and we managed to tear her away from the flower beds to check out the UitMarkt (an outdoor arts festival with lots of 'sneak previews' of forthcoming cultural events to sample). There were some very polished performances going on, which was a marked contrast to the Albert Cuyp summer street festival we went to the weekend before. It was pretty surreal watching the local Hare Krishna band demonstrate their chanting skills whilst the local 'mad market man' danced around in his purple ski suit. He seemed very pleased with all the attention. I'm not going to make any negative comments about the music however, because I guess I'll create bad karma and come back in my next life as a one of those snails.
Monday, August 16, 2004
Twinnies on a bike
My twin sister (Claire) and her husband (Neil) flew in at the weekend to be dragged around Amsterdam for a couple of days. We sent them back to Schiphol on Sunday night with grazed elbows from roller blading round Vondelpark and bruised bottoms from having to sit on the back of our bikes. Unfortunately all the cycle hire shops had signs outside saying 'Sorry - No More Bikes' (a peak-season problem) so they had to make do with the less comfortable option of hitching a lift. I'm very proud of my newfound ability to balance a bike with two people on it. This was a skill that developed slowly after around an hour of wobbling precariously towards cars and trams. I'm surprised Claire was brave enough to keep getting back on.
The roller blading demanded a similar amount of bravery, especially from poor Neil who had never worn skates of any kind before. We all managed to make it round Vondelpark in one piece though and had lots of fun in the process.
The roller blading demanded a similar amount of bravery, especially from poor Neil who had never worn skates of any kind before. We all managed to make it round Vondelpark in one piece though and had lots of fun in the process.
Monday, August 09, 2004
Watching Hairy Majorettes Float By
Another weekend has, unfortunately, turned into a Monday, which is a shame considering the sun is still shining over Amsterdam. As always, the weekend was over far too quickly. On Saturday it was the Gay Pride canal procession – one of Amsterdam’s more colourful annual events. We cycled to the banks of the Prinsengracht to watch various amusing sights float past before our eyes. Highlights for me were the majorettes in fluffy hats who marched up and down the boat twirling their pink batons, proudly displaying hairy bellies and handlebar moustaches. There were also the ‘Gaydiators’ – a boatful of seriously worked-out torsos, oiled up and gleaming in the sun, sporting extremely minimalist Roman outfits. There were also the guys and gals who had lovingly made false penises and sewn them onto the front of their tights. Every now and again a large cardboard fig leaf would be cast aside to show a collection of fabric genitalia. The attention to detail was splendid and the row of little girls who were sat along the canalside next to me felt compelled to cover their eyes as soon as the boat appeared.
Yesterday the temperatures soared to 32 degrees, transforming the metro trains into sticky little ovens and rendering it impossible to walk on the wooden deck in the garden barefooted without doing a funny little dance. I borrowed a pair of rollerblades from P’s sister (Ghislaine) as I’m desperate to have a go. A nagging pain in my back has stopped me (hopefully temporarily) from running and it seemed like a good alternative. Once I see the chiropractor on Wednesday I’m going to get myself down to Vondelpark for some serious skating, but in the meantime I had to make do with a scaled-down version: the living room. Peter dug out his skates and we had ourselves a little roller disco.
Coming back to work seemed like a dull alternative today.
roller skating in the living room
Yesterday the temperatures soared to 32 degrees, transforming the metro trains into sticky little ovens and rendering it impossible to walk on the wooden deck in the garden barefooted without doing a funny little dance. I borrowed a pair of rollerblades from P’s sister (Ghislaine) as I’m desperate to have a go. A nagging pain in my back has stopped me (hopefully temporarily) from running and it seemed like a good alternative. Once I see the chiropractor on Wednesday I’m going to get myself down to Vondelpark for some serious skating, but in the meantime I had to make do with a scaled-down version: the living room. Peter dug out his skates and we had ourselves a little roller disco.
Coming back to work seemed like a dull alternative today.
roller skating in the living room
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Cruel Dutchman
Peter discovered the baby spiders last night and I'm afraid to report that they have now taken up residence in the hoover bag. I just hope that they don't suffer from dust allergies.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Saving Non-Edible Spiders
The sun is shining gloriously over Holland and it looks like summer is here at last after months of drizzle. I'm sitting here enjoying a late breakfast (late shift today) of scrambled eggs and watching a mummy spider guard her 50 miniscule baby spiders on our apartment wall. I don't have the heart to evict them. The place is becoming more like a zoo every day.
We had a fun weekend enjoying the sunshine from the terraces of Haarlem baseball stadium. It was the Haarlem Honkbal (Baseball) Week and we had tickets to the final on Sunday (Netherlands v. Cuba). Despite forgetting suncream, a hat and something to cover my 'English' shoulders I had a great time. After each innings the Dutch supporters stood up to sing a collection of stupid songs (accompanied by lots of bum wiggling and arm waving). The most memorable was the 'Pizza Hoot, Pizza Hoot, Kentucky Fried Chicken, MacDooooonalds' song, complete with actions. A narrow second was 'Heb je even voor mij?' ('Have you a moment for me?') which is possibly the most catchy and also the most annoying song ever written. I made sure that I joined in with the compulsory greasy hot-dog eating, to make the American Experience complete. The game was very entertaining, mostly due to the fact that the home team were victorious and that I had Peter to untangle the rules. One of our party, Salvador, managed to catch a ball that missed the field and whizzed over the crowd's heads. He is now the (extremely) proud owner of his very-own souvenir ball and a bruised palm.
After the game we went to Specktakel in Haarlem- a great restaurant which serves all kinds of dishes from around the world. Between us we devoured antelope, kangaroo, octopus, sushi, rose-flavoured ice cream and the yummiest crème brulee. Obviously my empathy for animal-kind doesn't extend to the edible variety.
We had a fun weekend enjoying the sunshine from the terraces of Haarlem baseball stadium. It was the Haarlem Honkbal (Baseball) Week and we had tickets to the final on Sunday (Netherlands v. Cuba). Despite forgetting suncream, a hat and something to cover my 'English' shoulders I had a great time. After each innings the Dutch supporters stood up to sing a collection of stupid songs (accompanied by lots of bum wiggling and arm waving). The most memorable was the 'Pizza Hoot, Pizza Hoot, Kentucky Fried Chicken, MacDooooonalds' song, complete with actions. A narrow second was 'Heb je even voor mij?' ('Have you a moment for me?') which is possibly the most catchy and also the most annoying song ever written. I made sure that I joined in with the compulsory greasy hot-dog eating, to make the American Experience complete. The game was very entertaining, mostly due to the fact that the home team were victorious and that I had Peter to untangle the rules. One of our party, Salvador, managed to catch a ball that missed the field and whizzed over the crowd's heads. He is now the (extremely) proud owner of his very-own souvenir ball and a bruised palm.
After the game we went to Specktakel in Haarlem- a great restaurant which serves all kinds of dishes from around the world. Between us we devoured antelope, kangaroo, octopus, sushi, rose-flavoured ice cream and the yummiest crème brulee. Obviously my empathy for animal-kind doesn't extend to the edible variety.
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Mosquito Hunter
When I first moved into the new apartment my upstairs neighbours (Olivier and Solveen) sent me a message saying 'welcome to a little bit of Paradise in Amsterdam' and I can see what they mean. Good apartments in my price range are like gold dust in Amsterdam; unless you’re one of those lucky people who can afford to cough up a few thousand Euro a month for a swanky canal-side pad you normally have to make do with something in the ‘pokey’ range.
This place has ceilings so high that I feel like a goldfish who’s been living in a little bowl for months and has suddenly been let out into the ocean to swim. Peter doesn’t have to duck to get through the door frames. You can sit in the garden and listen to the birds singing as you enjoy a morning cup of tea and forget that you’re in the middle of Amsterdam, yet within five minute’s walk outside of the front door there’s a bustling market and all the cafes and shops you could ever wish for.
Before I start sounding like I’m selling the place, I might add that there is a downside to this place. The thing is, animals seem to love it as much as I do. Every night I become Mosquito Hunter. I perch on the window ledge in the bedroom armed with my special ‘mossie killer magazine’ (this thing is so disgusting – it’s covered with the squashed bodies of a few dozen of them already) whacking the ceiling as one of the little critters buzzes past. Of course, it doesn’t matter how many I kill before the light goes out, one always tries to go potholing into my ear as soon as I drop off to sleep. I can live with the spiders, flies, next door’s cat and even the occasional mouse, but I am on a one-woman mission to clear the place of damn mozzies.
This place has ceilings so high that I feel like a goldfish who’s been living in a little bowl for months and has suddenly been let out into the ocean to swim. Peter doesn’t have to duck to get through the door frames. You can sit in the garden and listen to the birds singing as you enjoy a morning cup of tea and forget that you’re in the middle of Amsterdam, yet within five minute’s walk outside of the front door there’s a bustling market and all the cafes and shops you could ever wish for.
Before I start sounding like I’m selling the place, I might add that there is a downside to this place. The thing is, animals seem to love it as much as I do. Every night I become Mosquito Hunter. I perch on the window ledge in the bedroom armed with my special ‘mossie killer magazine’ (this thing is so disgusting – it’s covered with the squashed bodies of a few dozen of them already) whacking the ceiling as one of the little critters buzzes past. Of course, it doesn’t matter how many I kill before the light goes out, one always tries to go potholing into my ear as soon as I drop off to sleep. I can live with the spiders, flies, next door’s cat and even the occasional mouse, but I am on a one-woman mission to clear the place of damn mozzies.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Naughty Blogger
I know, I know....
It's inexcusable. I am a naughty blogger and promise to do better in the future. I have left my blog in my virtual attic recently, but have now been up to retrieve it, blow off the dust and start up again.
This morning I recieved an email from Brasil asking what happened to my blog (a much needed kick up the backside - thanks Andrew!). The shock of realising that people actually read this thing has sent me into a flurry of activity. So here I am wondering where to start because so much has happened in the past few months.
As I enter my second year here the weird and wonderful sights of Amsterdam now seem like part of my 'normal' everyday life. Not that I like the City any less. Infact, my love affair with this place continues to develop.
I've been tucked up in a cozy little one bedroom appartment in Balistraat (in the East of Amsterdam) for a couple of months. However, as from the beginning of July I've been cycling home to the Pijp where I have managed to find a place with a rather comfy sofa, a garden full of birds and a big wooden floor (perfect for dancing). Once more, I am totally in love with an appartment that isn't mine (there's a strong possibility that I have to move again in a couple of months) but at least this time I get to share it with a lovely Dutch boy!
Yes, I know... big changes! I am officially samen woning (co-habiting) and it's all very gezellig (cozy!). If I have to move my cardboard boxes once more I'm going to completely lose my sanity, so I want everyone to keep their fingers crossed for me that I get a proper year-long contract.
It's inexcusable. I am a naughty blogger and promise to do better in the future. I have left my blog in my virtual attic recently, but have now been up to retrieve it, blow off the dust and start up again.
This morning I recieved an email from Brasil asking what happened to my blog (a much needed kick up the backside - thanks Andrew!). The shock of realising that people actually read this thing has sent me into a flurry of activity. So here I am wondering where to start because so much has happened in the past few months.
As I enter my second year here the weird and wonderful sights of Amsterdam now seem like part of my 'normal' everyday life. Not that I like the City any less. Infact, my love affair with this place continues to develop.
I've been tucked up in a cozy little one bedroom appartment in Balistraat (in the East of Amsterdam) for a couple of months. However, as from the beginning of July I've been cycling home to the Pijp where I have managed to find a place with a rather comfy sofa, a garden full of birds and a big wooden floor (perfect for dancing). Once more, I am totally in love with an appartment that isn't mine (there's a strong possibility that I have to move again in a couple of months) but at least this time I get to share it with a lovely Dutch boy!
Yes, I know... big changes! I am officially samen woning (co-habiting) and it's all very gezellig (cozy!). If I have to move my cardboard boxes once more I'm going to completely lose my sanity, so I want everyone to keep their fingers crossed for me that I get a proper year-long contract.
So what other news is there?
1. My twin sister and good friend Suzi are both now married women (promise to post some pictures at some point).
2. I've managed to get myself an overnight 20% pay-cut thanks to the wonders of the Dutch tax system (long and horrible story).
3. I have survived a whole year without being locked in any bathroom.
4. I can now ask directions in Dutch and almost understand the response. Sometimes I even understand the recorded phone options when I call the bank. Sometimes.
5. I can do a somersault on a trampoline.
6. I've been bitten by a mosquito at least 50 times already this year.
7. I've been spending lots of time running round Vondelpark in preparation for this year's Dam tot Dam. Sometimes I even break an unspoken runners code that seems to exist and run round it clockwise...
8. I've learned how to make excellent pancakes.
9. I've just worked out how to use the internet banking passcodes that were sent to me a YEAR ago.
10. Oh... and fallen in love...!
More soon... promise!
Monday, April 19, 2004
Bloody paaltjes
All over Amsterdam you see these little red paaltjes (poles). Their phallic shape makes Japanese tourists giggle. Their main function, I guess, is to stop cars getting into the many bike-only places in the City. Their secondary function seems to be a handy shin-wrecker for airheads like me who don't look where they're going.
There I was, happily cycling along in my usual dream world when suddenly I'm in a heap on the ground, tangled up in my bike with a bloody knee. Of course, a few people ran over to rescue me (the crash must have looked like a spectacular one). Very sweet, but I just wanted to pretend I wasn't quite so stupid and sneak off unoticed. My pride was hurt more than my leg or my bike.
There I was, happily cycling along in my usual dream world when suddenly I'm in a heap on the ground, tangled up in my bike with a bloody knee. Of course, a few people ran over to rescue me (the crash must have looked like a spectacular one). Very sweet, but I just wanted to pretend I wasn't quite so stupid and sneak off unoticed. My pride was hurt more than my leg or my bike.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Easter break
It's been so great to have the four day Easter break from work this weekend. Time to catch up on two of my favourite things... sleeping and eating.
On Friday we went to Blijdorp ('Happy Village'), which is actually a 'Happy Zoo' in Rotterdam. Highlights included watching the seals swim underwater in the glass-sided tank, the baby gorilla playing chase with its mum, the miniature monkeys with old men's faces and the new-born elephant trying for half an hour to pick up an orange in its trunk. Its hand-eye coordination seemed to be problematic (...or should it be trunk-eye coordination perhaps?). Photos to come!
I was fortunate to be able to sample plenty of yummy Dutch goodies at two traditional family Brunches. I have a new addition to add to my ever-increasing list of sugary addictions: Easter bread. This is a lovely fruity bread with a big lump of almond paste running through the centre.... mmmmm.....
My brain is still aching from a weekend of trying to understand the babble of Dutch family conversation flying around. I'm at a frustrating point in my efforts to learn the language and wish I had the vocabulary to join in a little more. I know it's going to take a long time before I can speak Dutch and sound like less of an idiot, but I'm determined to keep trying!
On Friday we went to Blijdorp ('Happy Village'), which is actually a 'Happy Zoo' in Rotterdam. Highlights included watching the seals swim underwater in the glass-sided tank, the baby gorilla playing chase with its mum, the miniature monkeys with old men's faces and the new-born elephant trying for half an hour to pick up an orange in its trunk. Its hand-eye coordination seemed to be problematic (...or should it be trunk-eye coordination perhaps?). Photos to come!
I was fortunate to be able to sample plenty of yummy Dutch goodies at two traditional family Brunches. I have a new addition to add to my ever-increasing list of sugary addictions: Easter bread. This is a lovely fruity bread with a big lump of almond paste running through the centre.... mmmmm.....
My brain is still aching from a weekend of trying to understand the babble of Dutch family conversation flying around. I'm at a frustrating point in my efforts to learn the language and wish I had the vocabulary to join in a little more. I know it's going to take a long time before I can speak Dutch and sound like less of an idiot, but I'm determined to keep trying!
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Singalonga Hens
My twin sister Claire is getting married soon in the UK, so I flew over to London for her hen weekend a couple of weeks ago.
Claire gave me strict instructions when we were organising activities: 'no strippers and nothing too embarrassing...'. I'm not sure whether this request extended to wandering around London dressed in a green poncho made from a garden refuse sack covered with paper daisies with a plastic dog turd strapped to her head, but this is what she got.
We had an evening of high-camp, nuns and sore throats at the 'Singalonga Sound of Music' show. Fifteen or so women dressed as 'the hills that are alive' must have been a strange sight as we gathered outside of the cinema. We were victorious in the fancy dress parade - narrowly beating the women dressed up as 'brown paper parcels all tied up with string' and (bizarely) the guys dressed up as chimney sweeps (isn't that the wrong Julie Andrews film?!) to win the bottle of champagne.
Just to explain the dog turd thing - remember the song, 'High on a hill stood a Lonely goat herd (goat turd?!). Unfortunately the joke shop didn't do goat turd....
Claire gave me strict instructions when we were organising activities: 'no strippers and nothing too embarrassing...'. I'm not sure whether this request extended to wandering around London dressed in a green poncho made from a garden refuse sack covered with paper daisies with a plastic dog turd strapped to her head, but this is what she got.
We had an evening of high-camp, nuns and sore throats at the 'Singalonga Sound of Music' show. Fifteen or so women dressed as 'the hills that are alive' must have been a strange sight as we gathered outside of the cinema. We were victorious in the fancy dress parade - narrowly beating the women dressed up as 'brown paper parcels all tied up with string' and (bizarely) the guys dressed up as chimney sweeps (isn't that the wrong Julie Andrews film?!) to win the bottle of champagne.
Just to explain the dog turd thing - remember the song, 'High on a hill stood a Lonely goat herd (goat turd?!). Unfortunately the joke shop didn't do goat turd....
Getting Organised
OK, I know! I haven't blogged for AGES, and now I'm getting round to it there seems to be so much to tell I don't know where to start.
Life is still hunky dory in Old Amsterdam! I'm jogging alongside the Dutchman very comfortably these days, finding my feet and trying to get my life organised at last. During my first year here in Holland I've managed to dis-engage my brain and go into 'holiday mode'. This is a wonderful sensation, but real life does tend to catch up with you after a while, the bills pile up and decisions need to be made. I've realised that this place is now my home, at least for the foreseeable future, so I'm taking steps to make it official.
My four month stay at Danie Theronstraat is now drawing to an end. It's been wonderful having a place to myself and it's given me the perfect base from which to explore Amsterdam. Ton and Alice, the apartment's true owners, are now back from their adventures in New Zealand, Australia, Malaysia and Thailand and I shall soon be packing up and moving round the corner to a cosy little place in Balistraat.
In the meantime, I'm coming to the UK soon for my twin sister's wedding.... something that I'm stupidly excited about!
The hen night a couple of weeks ago was great. I'll write a separate entry telling you all about it.
Life is still hunky dory in Old Amsterdam! I'm jogging alongside the Dutchman very comfortably these days, finding my feet and trying to get my life organised at last. During my first year here in Holland I've managed to dis-engage my brain and go into 'holiday mode'. This is a wonderful sensation, but real life does tend to catch up with you after a while, the bills pile up and decisions need to be made. I've realised that this place is now my home, at least for the foreseeable future, so I'm taking steps to make it official.
My four month stay at Danie Theronstraat is now drawing to an end. It's been wonderful having a place to myself and it's given me the perfect base from which to explore Amsterdam. Ton and Alice, the apartment's true owners, are now back from their adventures in New Zealand, Australia, Malaysia and Thailand and I shall soon be packing up and moving round the corner to a cosy little place in Balistraat.
In the meantime, I'm coming to the UK soon for my twin sister's wedding.... something that I'm stupidly excited about!
The hen night a couple of weeks ago was great. I'll write a separate entry telling you all about it.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Crunch
Last night Amsterdam was covered with crispy white snow - you know the kind - the sort that makes a delicious 'crunch' when you tread on it. When I woke this morning the sky was perfectly blue, the air was crisp and the birds were singing. I almost felt like I'd been transported to the Alps, minus a few key mountains. Just when you think the city can't get any more picturesque, along comes something to prove you were wrong....
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Small World
The most bizarre thing happened to me last night. I was just climbing off my bike In Munt Plein and I caught a glimpse of a familiar face. What are the odds of bumping into your English cousin (Julien) in the middle of Amsterdam? Unknown to me, he was here spending a romantic Valentine’s weekend with his girlfriend.
Trying to Win the Race
My friend Gareth gave me a warning about trying to snag a Dutchman… he said ‘the trouble is, Lucy… their legs are so long that they are very hard to catch’.
What words of wisdom! To cut a long story short, the running training must have paid off because I managed to catch up with a very long-legged example, lose him temporarily (on a particularly difficult bend in the road) and then (by summoning up all my lungpower) catch him again. We’re happily jogging along at the moment, but who knows where the road will take us in the future (and I’m not sure whether my substantially shorter legs are up for the challenge). We’ll just have to see.
What words of wisdom! To cut a long story short, the running training must have paid off because I managed to catch up with a very long-legged example, lose him temporarily (on a particularly difficult bend in the road) and then (by summoning up all my lungpower) catch him again. We’re happily jogging along at the moment, but who knows where the road will take us in the future (and I’m not sure whether my substantially shorter legs are up for the challenge). We’ll just have to see.
Rediscovering Dance
I am now teaching lunchtime dance classes at work. This feels a little bit strange…like my ‘old’ and ‘new’ lives are suddenly crossing over, but it is so good to be dancing again! The break has done wonders because I’m learning to really appreciate the magic that happens in my muscles and bones (and brain) when I leap around the room like an idiot. It gives me an exercise high that I just don’t get from a treadmill or a lat pulldown machine, no matter how hard I work! My friend Sarah has hired a dance studio today and we’re going to try out a few ideas and see where it leads us. Just like old times…
Trying to Find a Replacement Apartment
Alice and Ton return at the end of March so I’m going to have to be on the move again. It’s been so wonderful living in their place that I wasn’t relishing the prospect of trying to replace it, but my ‘lucky apartment fairy’ seems to have waved her magic wand once more. Another friend from work is off traveling and is considering letting me stay in his lovely studio apartment, not far from where I am now, until the end of July. I went to see the place yesterday and felt instantly at home. Fingers crossed!
Blogging Again
It’s been far too long since I wrote a blog entry. I have a few excuses for this (other than pure laziness). My mind has been brimming full of various things, namely…
Sunday, January 18, 2004
Feeling at Home
I think that 2004 is the year in which Amsterdam begins to truly feel like 'home'.
We had such fantastic weather last summer and I was worried at the time that this place would start to lose some of its charms as they colder winter days set in. Luckily I was wrong. I seem to become more and more fond of the place as the months go by. Sure, I'm looking forward to the time when I'll be able to sit under a tree in Vondelpark with the sun on my face again, but in the meantime I have time to explore the city in a different light (like on New Year's Day when everything was suddenly looking even more beautiful under its dusting of snow). If the canals freeze over and people start skating on them I will be stupidly excited!
I am at my most happiest when I'm on my little rusty bike, discovering a new cycling route along the canals and getting lost in the maze of tiny side streets. There is something so exhilarating about cycling in the city that it makes me wonder why I ever had the need for a car.
Talking of which, does anyone want to buy a Renault Clio?! It is sitting in the UK devaluing horribly as I type.
So life, I'm happy to report, is good. I had a morning run along the Amstel a few days ago, and as I stopped on a bridge to catch my breath and look at the view over the river I had a real 'Wow... I really do live here' moment. One year ago the thought of living abroad hadn't even crossed my mind and yet here I am, ringing my bicycle bell at tourists just like I belong here.
We had such fantastic weather last summer and I was worried at the time that this place would start to lose some of its charms as they colder winter days set in. Luckily I was wrong. I seem to become more and more fond of the place as the months go by. Sure, I'm looking forward to the time when I'll be able to sit under a tree in Vondelpark with the sun on my face again, but in the meantime I have time to explore the city in a different light (like on New Year's Day when everything was suddenly looking even more beautiful under its dusting of snow). If the canals freeze over and people start skating on them I will be stupidly excited!
I am at my most happiest when I'm on my little rusty bike, discovering a new cycling route along the canals and getting lost in the maze of tiny side streets. There is something so exhilarating about cycling in the city that it makes me wonder why I ever had the need for a car.
Talking of which, does anyone want to buy a Renault Clio?! It is sitting in the UK devaluing horribly as I type.
So life, I'm happy to report, is good. I had a morning run along the Amstel a few days ago, and as I stopped on a bridge to catch my breath and look at the view over the river I had a real 'Wow... I really do live here' moment. One year ago the thought of living abroad hadn't even crossed my mind and yet here I am, ringing my bicycle bell at tourists just like I belong here.
Sunday, December 28, 2003
White Christmas
Ik ben nu retourner a Pays Bas from France.
This is an example of Frederlandish, a new language I've been developing based on my confusion between Dutch, English and French. My rusty school French seems to have merged with my woefully inadequate Dutch to create a horrible linguistic mess. However, it hasn't stopped me from undertaking an epic (OK, perhaps not epic) single handed journey to and from the Alps without the aid of a phrase book.
The outward journey last Saturday involved dragging myself to Schiphol after three hours sleep (I was having far too much fun at my work's Christmas party to leave before the early hours of Friday night). I did make check-in, however, and boarded the tiny 45 seater plane, which (inexplicably) smelled of cheese, bound for Lyon. The passenger next to me had cabin baggage that mieowed throughout the flight. Since when has it become normal to fly with your pets? Perhaps I should have taken Yoda and Koe with me for a bit of an Alpine adventure?
We landed in the French sunshine and I stopped briefly in the airport to do a quick 'I need some non-drowsy cough medicine please' mime for the french pharmacist (luckily I'm good at charades and didn't end up with haemorrhoid cream) then continued my journey via train then eventually coach into the winding mountain roads that lead to La Plagne. It was great to be welcomed into our cosy apartment by my mum, sister and her fiance Neil.
That night the snow started to fall in big fat flakes and didn't stop for the first couple of days. A bit of lovely fresh powder was just what I needed to take my mind off the state of my health. I was rapidly becoming a mucus monster - a nasty chest and sinus infection wasn't my idea of fun in -22 degree temperatures. Luckily I managed to ski for most of the time and by Christmas Day the tide of mucus was retreating and my skiing was improving!
Christmas in a ski resort is fun! On Christmas Eve we all wrapped up warm and went down to the village to watch a torchlit descent by the ski instructors and to drink vin chaud and hot chocolate in the snow. Our 'in house' chefs (Claire and Neil) then provided a great feast of lamb, champagne and Bilberry tart.
In the early hours of Christmas morning I was woken up by lots of rustling and giggling by my bedside. This was coming from Pere Noel (a.k.a my sister) delivering goodies. Me and mum shared a room and when we asked what was going on she said 'shut up and go to sleep... I'm Pere Noel... I would have been quieter but your snoring was making me laugh'.
My mum was fast becoming a cool snow-babe, despite the fact that she hadn't skied for 35 years. With the help of her instructor Reno (or is it Renault like the cars?!) she was bombing down the slopes with the best of 'em. Me and Claire decided that our ski-personas should be 'snow baboons' and had hours of fun doing downhill primate impressions. The excessive consumption of all manner of lovely French food meant that I could shus (a prize to anyone who can spell that correctly for me) faster down a mountain than a medium sized elephant.
On the last day of skiing I hired a pair of snow blades and had a great day whizzing around on those - I'm a total convert! Apart from nearly falling off the edge of a mountain, I have returned with all limbs intact, an unused insurance policy and a smile on my face.
This is an example of Frederlandish, a new language I've been developing based on my confusion between Dutch, English and French. My rusty school French seems to have merged with my woefully inadequate Dutch to create a horrible linguistic mess. However, it hasn't stopped me from undertaking an epic (OK, perhaps not epic) single handed journey to and from the Alps without the aid of a phrase book.
The outward journey last Saturday involved dragging myself to Schiphol after three hours sleep (I was having far too much fun at my work's Christmas party to leave before the early hours of Friday night). I did make check-in, however, and boarded the tiny 45 seater plane, which (inexplicably) smelled of cheese, bound for Lyon. The passenger next to me had cabin baggage that mieowed throughout the flight. Since when has it become normal to fly with your pets? Perhaps I should have taken Yoda and Koe with me for a bit of an Alpine adventure?
We landed in the French sunshine and I stopped briefly in the airport to do a quick 'I need some non-drowsy cough medicine please' mime for the french pharmacist (luckily I'm good at charades and didn't end up with haemorrhoid cream) then continued my journey via train then eventually coach into the winding mountain roads that lead to La Plagne. It was great to be welcomed into our cosy apartment by my mum, sister and her fiance Neil.
That night the snow started to fall in big fat flakes and didn't stop for the first couple of days. A bit of lovely fresh powder was just what I needed to take my mind off the state of my health. I was rapidly becoming a mucus monster - a nasty chest and sinus infection wasn't my idea of fun in -22 degree temperatures. Luckily I managed to ski for most of the time and by Christmas Day the tide of mucus was retreating and my skiing was improving!
Christmas in a ski resort is fun! On Christmas Eve we all wrapped up warm and went down to the village to watch a torchlit descent by the ski instructors and to drink vin chaud and hot chocolate in the snow. Our 'in house' chefs (Claire and Neil) then provided a great feast of lamb, champagne and Bilberry tart.
In the early hours of Christmas morning I was woken up by lots of rustling and giggling by my bedside. This was coming from Pere Noel (a.k.a my sister) delivering goodies. Me and mum shared a room and when we asked what was going on she said 'shut up and go to sleep... I'm Pere Noel... I would have been quieter but your snoring was making me laugh'.
My mum was fast becoming a cool snow-babe, despite the fact that she hadn't skied for 35 years. With the help of her instructor Reno (or is it Renault like the cars?!) she was bombing down the slopes with the best of 'em. Me and Claire decided that our ski-personas should be 'snow baboons' and had hours of fun doing downhill primate impressions. The excessive consumption of all manner of lovely French food meant that I could shus (a prize to anyone who can spell that correctly for me) faster down a mountain than a medium sized elephant.
On the last day of skiing I hired a pair of snow blades and had a great day whizzing around on those - I'm a total convert! Apart from nearly falling off the edge of a mountain, I have returned with all limbs intact, an unused insurance policy and a smile on my face.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
