Writing nonsense in the name of cookie avoidance

I baked a large batch of chocolate chip cookies for a visitor, who's just phoned to cancel. In my attempt to avoid working my way through them, I thought I'd catch up on a bit of overdue blogging. The cookies are in the cupboard calling my name and I have an incredible lack of self-control when it comes to these things. Especially on a grey sunday afternoon when there's no one around to remind me to stop after the fifth one.

So I'm going to focus my attention away from the cupboard and towards the keyboard.

What's been happening recently?

I have become the owner of an extremely pink phone. I don't see myself as a particularly 'pink' kind of girl, but it was a good deal and it can take short movies. As a result I have a Barbie hot-line and can post some very bad quality films on youtube. One day I might even work out how to embed them in my blog, but until then you'll have to visit the site and do so at your peril - this has to be the least educational and most addictive experience on the web.

I've been in the UK visiting family for a few days and catching up on Oscar's newest skills. He can now say 'mama', 'daddy', 'sweetcorn' and 'toast' but hasn't managed to master 'auntie Lucy' yet. I've set him homework so he's prepared for my next visit. He's cuter than ever these days.

While I was there, I changed my homepage so it looks a little less like a 12 year old Japanese girl designed it. Actually, my sister Claire did (thanks Claire), as well as burning me the first 6 episodes of the new Doctor Who series on DVD. Sometimes sisters are just great.

On April 30th I celebrated my fifth Queen's Day since moving to Amsterdam. How time flies. I spent this one in the nearby Jordaan (fantastic to be a stone's throw from one of the nicest areas of the city). Bought myself a tatty old wine rack and some computer speakers with terrible sound quality on the Free Market. Good job I only parted with 7 Euro 50. You live and learn. Met up with some fellow revellers (is that Dave or Mandy??) for a bit of a jump around to the bands in the sunshine and walked home with a smile on my face.

I'm still in love with the new apartment and have been occupying myself with various projects around the place in the recent weeks. This mostly involves making a huge mess until I'm happy with the results.

What else?
I've become addicted to my Fatboy. It fits nicely between the balcony doors and when the sun is shining I can be found snuggled in there with a cup of tea and my feet sticking between the railings. Bliss. Good job I've entered the Amsterdam marathon this year because the cookies and the fatboy might need a bit of balancing out.

New Home

I love my new apartment.

It’s as simple as that. Even the process of hauling boxes up stairs on moving day last week was a pleasure, because it meant the long wait was over and I finally get my own little place in the world.

I got the keys on the 2nd, which was a surreal moment. Piles of papers were signed and terms and conditions explained, then bang- I was a house-owner..As a non-native I was legally obliged to employ the services of a translator at the signing, who cheerfully summarised the mortgage arrangements as ‘basically, they’ve got you by the short and curlies’. Trying to shake off the feeling that I had just become slave to my bank, I drove with the previous owners (the very-lovely Luisella and Koen) from the notary’s office to my new place, clutching a bunch of keys in my hand that had now mysteriously become mine. Everything looked great at the apartment (no nasty surprises, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou L and K). Then suddenly I was left alone, standing in the middle of my new empty space. After months of waiting for this moment I realized that I didn’t have a clue what to do! I opened and closed the drawers and doors, switched on and off the switches then sat in the middle of the floor trying to adjust to being there. With the absence of someone to share the experience with, the whole thing took on an unreal quality and I was beginning to think I dreamed it.

However, reality soon kicks in after three afternoons spent on your hands and (bruised) knees oiling the floors. But despite being hard work it was great going over to the place early before work, sticking on the radio and gradually seeing the results of my efforts show. Now it felt like mine!

Moving day (last Friday) went without a hitch and I then became a three-day one-woman Ikea furniture assembly machine. I have blisters on the palms of my hands to prove it. The place has come together surprisingly fast and I can’t believe that I only moved in a week ago. Now my next problem is trying to persuade myself to leave the front door every now again….

Lucky Cow

I can't get enough of the mountains this year, and am a spoiled cow because I'm going for my third trip of the season this week. I'm going to squeeze three more days of snowboarding from my schedule before I return to the financial responsibility of a brand new mortgage and significantly less disposable income for a while (I sign for my apartment keys a week tomorrow!)

I just got back last weekend from a week in Champagny (just under La Plagne) with my family. I enjoyed blue skies every day, the chance to play with my nephew Oscar and to finally find my confidence on a board. I discovered the joy of snowboarding alone which significantly improved my ability to read a piste-map (I usually tag along like a lost sheep having no clue where I am).

The bus journey there was less exciting, mostly because the driver decided that his idea of DVD entertainment was to show us the safety film. Normally they show pretty terrible movies, but at least this takes my mind off the fact that my neck simply isn't designed for sleeping in an upright position. Lots of opportunity to chat in Dutch to my fellow passengers though, which was great practice (things are finally starting to improve at last with my feeble attempts at the language).

So next week it's Les Deux Alpes for more fun (and hopefully fresh powder and blue skies).
Life is pretty good!!

Bike Trip

Sometimes the Dutch have really good ideas. Like the OV-fiets card (public transport bike card). You have to pay a stupid amount of money to put your own bike on a train here, so instead you can take out a membership for a year which entitles you to hire special blue bikes from any major train station for just a couple of euro. You can cycle around all day, explore new places and return the bikes to the station before heading home. The bikes come complete with locks and lights and are pretty comfortable (much better than my own oma fiets, which is long overdue some TLC).


Me and my friend Debbie did this today. We hired bikes outside Haarlem station and cycled out to the beach at Bloemendaal in the sunshine for a lovely lunch by the sea. Highly recommended!

Goodbyes

Living in Amsterdam means that you get to mix with people from all over the World on a regular basis, which is fantastic, but the downside of this is that people who you get attached to often move away at what seems like a moment's notice. I've learned to get used to this transient experience, where people suddenly 'up sticks' and move to the other side of the planet. It's sad when they do, but I'm going to have some great holidays in the future visiting them all!

My lovely running-buddy Mairead moved back home to Ireland just after Christmas and now my solo runs just aren't the same without the good-old gossips we used to have. Then our wonderful yoga teacher Lisa returned to Oz. Another great friend Debbie has just three more weeks left in Amsterdam before she goes back home to California - one more difficult goodbye. Last night I went to a leaving do for Laura, who has been working on my team as a physiotherapist. I've only had a short while to get to know her but she's such fantastic company that I'm going to miss her quite a bit (she'll no doubt be on a plane as I type, winging her way back to Australia).

Some friends of Laura and her husband Kees organised a real 'Hollandse' evening for them where we all ate ertwensoep, stamppot and appeltaart - the classic Dutch dishes. My stomach was so full that I don't think I'll need to eat for another week. Laura won't have too much need for the airline food!

Last Saturday marked my four year anniversary of living in Holland. I can't believe how fast time flies. I'm sure there will be some new fresh-faces at work or my new neighbourhood that will become friends and so the adventure continues.... long may it last!

A reminder of how much I love British Public Transport

I popped home at the weekend to visit my family back in England. Actually, the word 'popped' seems inappropriately light considering the effort it took to get there for such a short space of time. My journey started on Saturday morning and after travelling by train, plane, bus, another train, another bus, another train then a car I finally managed to get to Portsmouth during the late afternoon. Only to turn around and fly back again less than 24 hours later. Why do I always choose weekends when they're doing maintenance on the railway lines to visit England? Or are they doing this every weekend these days?

A place just for me

It's official - I will get the keys to my new apartment before Easter.
I can't even begin to convey just how excited I am at the prospect of moving in. It's been a long wait during some tough months and it seems like moving day will give me the fresh start I crave. This little flat is more than bricks and mortar. After more than fifteen years of paying rent to various landlords I actually get to invest in my own property - and along with it goes sole use of the fridge, total control of the remote, glorious peace and quiet, and the option to paint the walls whatever colour I desire. A place I can quite literally call my own.... and I plan to relish every moment.

Skinless Wonder

It's been too long since I blogged.
Since then there's been Christmas, New Year, a ski trip, a weekend in Edinburgh, countless days in Hoofddorp (waiting, waiting, waiting for those keys...) snow, speed-dating, weird-dating, pancake-making, corpse-viewing (yes really), excessive chocolate eating (then many hours of training to get rid of the results), hip-hop dancing, bad-taste parties, and all manner of weird and wonderful things that have all gone unrecorded.

I'm not even going to attempt to tackle the whole list, but I will mention a little about those corpses! It's a strange way to spend a Saturday night, but me and my friend Elise went to see the 'Bodies' Exhibition in Amsterdam last weekend. For those who haven't heard of this, it's a display of dead bodies that have been plasticised and preserved for the 'entertainment' and education of the public. When I put it like this, it sounds pretty sick, but it was incredible to see the layers of the body peeled away. I have always been fascinated by muscles and bones, but I did feel sorry for the poor guy that ended up being posed in the undignified role of 'skinless darts player'. I'm not sure I'd want to donate my body to medical science only to be stuck eternally trying to hit a bullseye. All he needed was a pint of beer and the effect would be complete.

Crashing the Circus

It seems that I don't just get Laetitia Griffith's phone calls, I also get her mail. This is altogether more fun than the calls as the mail is less abusive and contains free stuff.

I had an invitation through the mail inviting me (plus guest) to the star-studded premiere of the Christmas Circus at the Royal Theatre Carre in Amsterdam. The presence of my name-sake was required on the red carpet and I didn't want to dissappoint the paparazi, so I RSVP'd....

'Dear Sir,

Many thanks for your kind invitation to the premiere of the Christmas Circus. I would love to attend and bring a friend. Please note that you made an error with the spelling of my name, which is Lucy, not Laetitia.

Kind regards,

Miss L.Griffith'

The promoters were gracious enough to admit they made a mistake but to offer me the tickets anyway, so me and my friend Debbie enjoyed a lovely evening in this gorgeous theatre for free. Judging by the photographers outside I'm guessing there were a few household names there, but to be honest I couldn't pick out a real Dutch celebrity if they came over, hit me on the head and asked for their ticket back.

The circus was great fun - camp costumes, Italian acrobats splitting their trousers, a man doing really scary things on a trapeze which I couldn't even watch, sea lions that could lift a woman on their nose (please no emails from animal rights campaigners), some Russians doing fantastic things with see-saws and all manner of weird and wonderful delights. Sorry Laetitia, you missed out on this one!

Little Pudding

Below is a pic of my Nephew Oscar and his little friend Iva. They won a fancy dress competition yesterday by dressing up as Christmas Puddings. Can't wait to see the little fellow when I fly home on Sunday! He gets cuter by the day.

Flying High

I've had an amazing afternoon, courtesy of my new housemate Claython. He recently got his pilot's licence so is now able to take a few friends flying whenever he fancies. I was lucky enough to get one of the four seats on today's exclusive flight.

It was a grey and rainy day when we arrived at Lelystad airport at lunchtime, but after an hour or two's wait the weather started to clear and we were ready to go. I must admit, I was feeling a little nervous as I climbed into a plane which looked like a 1950's car with wings. It was a very different sensation than boarding with KLM, and as the four of us squashed into the tiny cockpit (Clay had briefed us on how to open the door in case of a crash landing) I tried to fight the instinct to run off and hide in the hangar! I needn't have worried though, as Claython showed all the professionalism of an experienced pilot, making sure that we were all prepared for take off. Before I had time to think about it we were suddenly in the air, with our pilot chatting confidently away to the air-traffic control guys in the Schiphol tower, on the off-chance they would grant us permission to fly low over Amsterdam. It worked like a dream, and before we knew it we were pointing out the landmarks over the City. It was such a surreal experience to be so close to the rooftops and to pick out small details you never see from the height of a big aircraft. I found myself getting a little bit nervous as the plane swung from left to right, with Claython asking us all to keep our eyes peeled for other air traffic! It was far too much fun to be scared for long though, and as we left Amsterdam to head up North I relaxed and watched the sun break through the clouds. What a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon!

We headed across Purmerend and past Hoorn (where I even got the chance to take the controls for a while) towards Den Helder and the Frisian island of Texel, which by this time was bathed in some beautiful late-afternoon sunshine. Here Claython got to perform his first landing on a grass runway. Impressively, he managed to deal with cross-winds and soggy grass and we touched-down without problems. After a brief stop to complete the paperwork we were up in the air again and racing against the clock to get back to Lelystad before sunset, where Claython impressed us all again with a fantastically smooth touch-down.

An afternoon that I certainly will never forget. Thanks Claython, looking forward to the next flight! All photos here.

Een uitje naar Duitsland

I'm supposed to be in Austria. Instead I'm in Hoofddorp. I'll give you a quick comparison - in Hoofddorp there are less mountains, less snow, less gluhweijn, no handsome ski instructors, and generally not too many opportunities to snowboard. I took the whole week off work because of a planned trip to Kirchberg, but unfortunately the resort is still closed because it all looks very green hills / 'Sound of Music' up there.

Instead, me and my new board-buddy Elise headed off for a road trip into Germany yesterday, to a little town called Bottrop, where there's a ski centre with the longest indoor piste (apparently) in the world. This was just a couple of hours driving, and The Alpin Center made for a great day out. We paid our 35 Eur for a day ticket and were amazed to discover that this included unlimited snowboarding, equipment hire, food , coffee, tea, cakes and as many of those great big jugs of German beer that you could swill!

Okay, it wasn't quite Kirchberg, and maybe the beer helped, but we had lots of fun. They had this bizarre lift which was like a human conveyer belt that took some getting used to, but meant you could hop on and off while clutching your board, leaving the skiers standing on their skis, looking like odd little penguins being shoved up a slope.

Even though it was the biggest in the world, the downward slope always ended too soon (especially when you're as fast as me, ha ha) but it was definitely worth the drive.

So thanks to Elise (who is now linking turns since her two hour lesson yesterday - yeah!!) for our little 'uitje' (outing). Here's to January, Chatel and REAL mountains!

I Feel Moved

I'm able to type this entry from the comfort of my bed, due to the 'all mod-cons' nature of my new address, which boasts super-fast wireless internet access and an indoor sauna. I'll be wanting my own butler soon.

I deserve a bit of pampering as it's been a crazy couple of days. Every time I move I have this naive faith that the packing and moving process will be straightforward. How much stuff can someone really accumulate in three and a half years? After all, I moved here with just a suitcase. The answer is, two whole van-loads. Yesterday was full of too many boxes and too many stairs.

On Thursday evening I borrowed 8 flat-packed moving boxes from work, tied them up with string, slung them over my back and set off home on the metro. At Wibautstraat I picked up my bike and tried to cycle home with them. The process involved getting several bruises and a lot of swearing, but I finally managed to get me and the boxes on the bike, only to come to a sudden stop a few meters up the road. I realised that the string that I'd used to tie up the boxes had got tightly wrapped round the wheel of the bike and there was no way I was going to be able to free it without a good pair of scissors. I was forced to abandon the poor thing in a state of bondage and head off on foot. Walking a mile with eight large boxes stacked up on my head wasn't much fun at all, but I made it home in the end.

Yesterday after all the moving chaos was over, tired, hungry and emotional, I was back in Amsterdam for a work do. I was running very late, but I decided to rescue my poor omafiets. Crouched in the dark in my evening clothes in the rain, picking away at the spokes of my bike with a pair of scissors, it suddenly occured to be what a glamorous life I lead.

But I'm here now in a comfy bed with my laptop and a cup of tea and I'm putting it all behind me. So Hoofddorp it is then, at least til next April/May time when I get the keys to the appartment I've bought back in good-old Amsterdam.

Political Hotline

It seems I have a new career as a Dutch politician.

In the approach to the Dutch elections on 22nd November, my private home phone seems to be a hotline for various mad people who seem to think that I can answer their questions regarding the policies of my party, or just would like to engage in a bit of good old-fashioned verbal abuse.

This misunderstanding stems from the fact that I'm listed in the phone book as Mevrouw L. Griffith. Mevrouw Laetitia Griffith has (wisely) chosen not to be listed. I'm getting her calls. It's all very interesting and I'm getting lots of Dutch practice telling people to sod off.

It's very strange how persistent people can be. The conversation can stretch on for some time, and some people still won't believe I'm not her. You would think that the fact that I can barely speak the language might give them a tiny little clue that perhaps I'm not really the woman for the job.

Perhaps next time I'll try the "Yes, I'm her. What do you want to know?" approach. There goes the local loonies vote...

Scary Women

With the aid of a nasty cheap wig, white face paint and some clothes from the back of my wardrobe, I was transformed last night into a vision of gothic loveliness. Actually, I looked like a total freak, but that's okay because I was going to a Halloween party with an Addam's Family theme. Seemed like a good idea at the time, as did the seven glasses of 'blood' red wine that I quaffed, but today I'm feeling a bit queasy. Must have been the bat burger I ate after midnight.

Here I am pictured with fellow hags Elise (Morticia) and Laurie (Wednesday). More Pics HERE.

Crossing the line again

I did it! My first Half Marathon. All 21km (13 miles) of it! It took 2 hrs and 5 mins. It felt great, and I'm once again grateful for the company of my race-buddy Mairead who kept my mind off my aching legs. Race videos of our victorious finish can be found here.

The Return of the Apartment Fairy

All change.

I'm crashing at my sister's place in London this week and am enjoying some time-out from the blur of changes that have been rapidly taking place in my life in the past weeks.

As I am now zonder Nederlander , I'm having to adjust to a 'single girl in Amsterdam' status again. It's sad, exciting, scary, liberating and strange all at once.

As much as I love our apartment, it is definitely a place for a two-person budget, so my first move was to engage in a flurry of property viewings, which made for a couple of crazy (and at times downright depressing) weeks but by luck my 'apartment fairy' waved her magic wand once more, and I stumbled across a lovely little one bedroom place near the Westerpark, which instantly shouted 'buy me, buy me'. So I did. As simply as that, I find myself a home-owner. Well, I will be by Summer next year (the current owners are due to move on by the end of April). In the meantime I am continuing the hunt for a temporary place to stay.

So I'm turning the page and starting a fresh chapter of my Amsterdam Adventures and am looking forward to creating my own story. Watch this space!

SSSsssssssss...............

I've just got home to see a letter from 14-year old Christiaan on the doormat, who's a bit sad because his pet snake has escaped. This creature is a 'Canadese Kousenbandslang' (this seems to translate from Dutch as a 'Canadian Stocking-bandage Snake'), which looks like this:

In his letter, Christiaan informs us that it is a non-strangling and non-poisonous type of snake. I'm quite happy about this, because the damn thing crawled over my feet in the garden the other day. Christiaan asks that if we happen to spot him, we need to throw a big bucket over him and keep him cool (apparently this calms him down). He doesn't give any tips about how to calm myself down after a bloody-great snake slithers across my bare feet. My advice to Christiaan would be to keep the lid on his snake tank, or just give up and buy a gerbil.

It's the eye of the tiger, It's the thrill of the fight...

Despite the 'wobbly weeble week' I had last week... sleep deprivation, emotional turmoil, blah blah blah.... I succeeded in smashing my personal best time in this year's Dam tot Dam race. I crossed the line at 1 hour, 33 mins and 26 secs, dispelling my own self-created myth that I'm getting too old and creaky for all that nonsense. See if you can spot me at the 10km mark, running along with a silly grin on my face to the tune of 'Eye of the Tiger'.

In the photo I'm almost at the end, close to the finish line with fellow 'girl power' runner Mairead. More photos online here.

The next running challenge is the Amsterdam Half Marathon on the 15th October. I've never run 21km before, but I'm going to give it my best shot.

We Weebles Wobble But We Don't Fall Down

Remember these? I used to love these little guys, and had a set exactly like this when I was a kid.

I'm going through a wobbly weeble-phase at the moment, and am inspired by their resillience.

So it's me and the weebles, still standing!