Daddy Duck

A few weeks ago, a duck with seemingly limited parenting skills decided to make her nest in the central island of the ornamental ponds at the front of the building where Peter and I work. These ponds look pretty but aren't really designed to house wildlife. The problem is that they have a metal lip running round the edge which seem almost custom-built to prevent anything with little legs hopping in and out.

Peter spotted the nest when maintaining the ponds and decided to solve this problem by building a duck-friendly ramp leading down to the water. All he then had to do was sit tight and wait for the eggs to hatch.

Sure enough, a week ago the pond was suddenly filled with quacking. Ten little eggs had become ten little fluffy ducklings. All was going very well until mummy duck decided that it was time to leave their temporary home to go in search of food. The ramps were too slippery for the ducklings' little feet and no matter how high they tried to jump they couldn't get out.

The next day two of the strongest ducklings had managed to jump out but were then stranded outside waiting for the others to acquire the same skill. They were running all over the place and whenever they spotted a pair of human feet getting close they would panic. One even miraculously survived a dash across the taxi lane and a ten foot drop into the Ikea carpark, to be carefully scooped up by Peter and returned to its mother.

Peter then scrapped the ramps and built steps leading to the outside world, but the ducklings obviously had adopted their mother's low IQ and would run round and round the steps rather than up and down them.

All worked out well in the end though. Over the weekend the ducks had obviously worked out the whole step/ramp/jump thing and on monday morning Peter found them proudly swimming up and down the nearby canal with both parents. He was relieved (and perhaps just a little bit sad) to move on from his temporary position of daddy duck.

Queen's Day Children

Last Saturday was Queen's Day. There was all the usual madness taking place in Amsterdam - hordes of orange-clad people suddenly filled the city, looking for the opportunity to buy junk from a pavement store, drink copious biertjes or to wear a very silly inflatable crown. This year I found myself in Vondelpark having a lovely time amongst the Queen's Day Children.

I'm sure if you're six years old then Vondelpark can be a magical playground the whole year round, but on Queen's Day it excels itself. For one day a year, the children take over and show off their various skills for some small change. Proud parents stand by as little Henk or Anja screach away on the violin or perform the actions to 'I'm a Barbie Girl' for the amusement of the public. Some kids show great initiative with their chosen skill - one cute little boy managed to stand statue-still with his right arm in the air for 10 minutes at a time. Another little girl stood on her head until she nearly threw up her candyfloss. Some just choose to dress up or display elaborate face paintings. All seriously cute and a pleasant antidote to their not-so cute drunk adult friends outside the park walls.

Her Majesty's Haircut

I know that Queen's Day is coming up and that residents of the Netherlands are looking at ways of showing their patriotism, but trying to copy the Queen's haircut...

...isn't really what I had it mind.

After a disastrous visit to the hairdresser this week I ended up looking like this...

...All I need is a crown and I'd be laughing. Luckily it was just the way he decided to style it (and I use 'style' in the loosest of terms - he made me stick my head between my knees and blasted it with the hairdryer) so after a good hairwash I was back to my usual non-regal self.

Here Comes the Sun

We've been enjoying the first blissfully warm weekend of the year. At last, we can shed the ski jackets and woolly gloves in favour of short sleeves and sunglasses. The backdoor can stay open during the day to let a delicious warm breeze through the house (plus next door's plucky cat) and the garden is now an inviting place to sit with a book and a cup of tea. The bustling terraces of the Pijp have sprung into life once more. Yesterday we sat outside one of our new-found favourite cafes - the Soep Winkel (Soup Shop) watching the world go by and eating homemade sweet potato soup and cheese cake. Lekker! All over Amsterdam you see people sitting in upstair's window frames, reading a book or smoking a cigarette with their bare feet hanging out into the sunshine. In a city where so many people live high up it's the next best thing to a garden.

This afternoon we cycled to Vondelpark for a stroll. It seems that the rest of Amsterdam had the same idea. I've never seen the park so busy; we could hardly move amongst the other sun-seekers. The cyclists were forced to weave precariously amongst small children on roller skates, dogs, push chairs, frisbees, confused tourists and the odd strange-looking wino. A sea of bodies were sunbathing on every spare inch of green - a strange sight considering that there are still no leaves on the trees and that this time last week we were still wearing those ski jackets.

Geen Fietsen Plaatsen

I snapped this earlier this week at the Albert Cuyp market.

Translation: Place no bikes here please.

and then it just kept snowing....

Okay, so I was REALLY wrong about the snow...

Look at my garden this morning!

Okay, so I was wrong about the snow...

Look at how my garden looks this morning!



Perhaps they switched off the under-floor heating last night!

Winter in Amsterdam

I love snow. It must be a throwback to childhood or something, but as soon as I see a few white flakes drift by the window I'm compelled to sit with my nose pressed up against the glass for hours, just watching. Even better, I love the crunch of it under my feet.

Sadly, snow in Amsterdam just doesn't work like that. No matter how cold it gets and regardless of how many fat flakes fall, they seem to disappear the instant they touch the ground. It's like they've installed city-wide underfloor heating. All week we've been getting these big snow storms which promise to instantly transform the city into a winter paradise. If you walk away from the window for 2 minutes to get your camera you return to blue skies, green trees and dry grey pavement again. It's weird.

Regardless of the frustrating weather changes, you can ice skate outdoors in this city all through the winter. Museum Plein has it's own outdoor rink that everyone is welcome to use. It's great to watch little kids with strap-on ice skates slide around with the ice-skating equivalent of a zimmer frame to lean onto - a wooden chair.

Trying to be a Snowboard Dudette

Me and my colleague Lisa organised a long weekend trip to Valloire in the French Alps for 44 colleagues last month. Peter joined us, and as it was his first winter sports holiday he decided to prepare for the trip by tackling a long-overdue ambition - learning to snowboard. I (for my sins) decided to join him. Having always skied, I previously saw snowboarders as those annoying people who cut you up on the slopes, but was curious to find out more.

You may be wondering how one learns to snowboard in a country with no mountains. The Dutch have come up with the perfect solution - revolving carpet. Actually the term 'perfect' is a bit off the mark, because trying to stand up on a giant white (soaking wet) treadmill while both feet are strapped to a board isn't the standard interpretation of perfection. Once you manage it (we were told) then snow will be a piece of cake. Still, it gave us a taste for the real thing and before we knew it we were turning, gliding (and, of course) falling with ease.

After a course of six lessons we couldn't wait to see a mountain. The big weekend arrived and the only thing that stood between us and some deep fresh powder was the fact that it hadn't snowed over the Alps in a month and the sun was shining gloriously over the resort. Still, thanks to the snow cannons, the nursery slopes were white enough for us!

My word of warning to any first-time snowboarder - pack knee pads and wrist guards (and possibly a cushion to stuff down the back of your trousers). If your experiences are anything like mine, you'll love boarding but your knees/wrists/bum won't. I actually lay in the snow on my stomach at one point and pummelled the ground with my fists out of pure frustration (much to the amusement of the passing line of immaculately-controlled six year olds). After two days of falling over, however, things finally 'clicked' and I was off! Unfortunately by the time this happened we had to go back to Holland. Luckily we're going back to the Alps for a whole week next month (and perhaps the bruises will be healed by then).

Lure of the Sofa

Well, it's been nearly half a year since I posted anything, so what have I been doing?

The truth is, I'm a lazy bugger. Possibly the most lazy fitness instructor in the world. Ah the irony! I'm trying unsuccessfully to resist the lure of the sofa. On far too many evenings I get in from the cold and dark and there it is - my trusty siren friend, complete with a pile of little cushions, two or three remote control devices, a fleecy blanket and (all too often) a packet of cookies. I'm telling myself that this is just a brief phase which allows me to adjust to that awful time of the year when suddenly daylight seems to be a rarity. Or perhaps I'm just turning into Homer Simpson. The apartment is slowly turning into a haven of convenience devices. I can now speak to my sister on the computer and simultaneously view her webcam as she pulls a variety of faces at me. I can order Sushi on the internet. I can watch DVD's from my bed.

Perhaps I exaggerate a little. Amsterdam is still providing its daily delights and disasters. I just haven't been writing about them. So here I am again, trying to make up for it.

10 New Wheels

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!

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.

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.

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 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.