Parallel Reality

Feels weird, I'm all alone right now. I haven't been alone for almost two days. It's been delightfully friendfull. I feel very good right now. Totally charged with friendly energy. And it's not over yet.

I'm having an amazing time catching up with old friends and getting to know current friends even better. It's wonderful. Yesterday morning I went back to Two for Joy for breakfast, which was a short bike ride away over morning canals and past loading trucks. It was cold but I discovered some nice leather gloves in my sister's wardrobe that look like they might have belonged to either our Mum or Aunt or even our Oma. They are great as they are warm enough to keep the tingle-fingers away but I can still operate my iPod Touch (Or Phiroze's iPhone) while wearing them! Amazing.

The coffee, however, wasn't as fabulous as the day before, but still nice enough, and the Hazelnut Dark Chocolate Granola was quite nice.Then I rode my bike to Phiroze's (enjoyable half hour bike ride, aided with directions from my iPod) to help him do his dreaded expense report, the thing he was procrastinating from on Tuesday. It was a very useful way to get to know each other better, while actually getting something done at the same time. It was a very big job and we didn't finish it until today, but we so kicked that expense report's arse. When two super organised people get together with the right tools (i.e. Apple products), the biggest jobs can be achieved reasonably quickly and with determination. Luckily there were food breaks and yesterday evening I went home to play host to another very good friend.

My friend Renée works here in Amsterdam, and she came to stay the night last night - we had a nice meal together and talked and talked and talked. We marvelled at how long we've been friends, and how amazing it is considering we met quite randomly in Melbourne training to work in a bar that didn't even open before Renée had to leave again. But over the years we've become very good friends and have met both here and there and have always clicked back together and spoken so easily and freely as if it was only a day ago that we saw each other last. We talked until we fell asleep and then got up and talked some more, over croissants and tea for breakfast, and then a coffee at Two for Joy - disappointingly the coffee was again not as good as that very first cup on Tuesday. The weather today was very Dutch, very wet and cool.

Last week I had thought today would have been  a day of wandering around Amsterdam by myself and maybe doing something touristy, but the weather was miserable and so instead I had already decided to go back to Phiroze's (who has admitted to manipulating the weather so I wouldn't want to be outside) and helped him finish that wretched expense report. It truly was quite fun for me to do. I like organising things in neat little piles and in chronological order. It beats reorganising boxes at my Mum's for a while! Seeing the diverse amount of places he visits within a one week time frame is quite mind boggling. He is a man whose body doesn't know a time zone because he is never in one long enough to adjust to it.

We had defeated the expense report beast around 4 pm today, and rewarded ourselves with another movie and some dinner. We watched Barney's version, which was surprisingly non-comedic and slightly tearjerky but very good. Then we happily meandered along the gracht to the good old Nassaukade where my sister's apartment is and I am right now.

Before Phiroze left for hom we Googled the answer to a question that's been on our minds since early Tuesday, which is what the three crosses stand for in the Amsterdam coat of arms. I feel as a Dutch person I should know this, but then I'm really not as Dutch as most of the Dutch. The website Phiroze found said they represent St Andrew, who was a fisherman from the 1st Century AD and who was crucified on an X shaped cross, and as Amsterdam was a fishermen's town in 1505 and it became its coat of arms. But as I just Googled it in Dutch, I got to the Dutch wikipedia page and it says something completely different! It says the coat of arms reflects that of the family of Jan Persijn who was the lord of the city of Amsterdam between 1280 and 1282, and who also ruled Amstelveen  and Oudekerk aan de Amstel which have similar coats of arms. There are also stories that the three crosses represent the three desasters that struck Amstedam, flood, fire and pestilence, or that they stood for the three places in the Amstel river one could cross on foot. Both can not be verified. So, pick whichever history you like!

I am really, really enjoying my time here in Amsterdam. And once again I have the feeling that my life in Australia could just be a figment of my imagination - it feels like'unreal that I have two lives, with two languages, and two histories with friends and events. It's quite bizarre but I always get to feeling this way when I;m in Holland for a while, that I could have just dreamed my Australian life up, and vice versa when I'm there. It's not unpleasant. 

Now, I am tired and happy and my vision's gone a bit blurry so I think I might just try to be asleep before midnight today. God knows it's not going to happen tomorrow, as first I'm going to Almere by train to visit Melanie and then I'm catching up with Emily for chocolate fondue for dinner and a sleepover here...knowing our history of sleepovers we will be chatting and laughing until one of use fades out and the other one gives up talking, which is not often before midnight. It's how we do it. 

Oh, I uploaded some photos to the Tuesday post, as promised. 

Sleep well, friends. I love friends. Friends are wonderful, wonderful creatures. 

Caffeine fun filled Tuesday

Another awesome day! I am super buzzed on caffeine still (drinking a large cup of sleepy time tea to counter it, but you'll at least get a reasonably alert report!), or maybe I'm just still on a happy high from a lovely day with my amazing pal Phiroze. I was lucky to have helped him procrastinate the whole day away in the most delightful way, and to have his exclusive and full attention for that long.

We met through our dear friend Simon, who is wonderful in so many ways, we have missed him quite a few times today. But I have never had the pleasure of seeing Phiroze all by myself, as the little time he spends in Australia we all have to share him so we get together with a big group. He is never actually in one place for very long because he travels a ridiculous amount (at least three quarter of the year) for his work. I struck the dumb luck to be in Amsterdam just as Phiroze is spending more than a day or two here for the first time since he moved here.
Phiroze, to me, and to many of his friends in Australia, is like an elusive, mythical creature of epic proportion, and when he is in town, we all flock to see him. He is well spoken, witty, charming, super generous, and just totally loveable. He has an amazingly exciting unique job. He has a very impressive tool belt from which he could magic any object that might be required at any time. He is like MacGyver from the next century with all his lovely Apple gadgets! It wouldn't surprise me if he could build a raft out of next to nothing and sail me (navigating the waters with his iPhone) to safety if there was a need. When I told him this morning that I had left my iPod charger plug back in Elsendorp, he produced one from his small pack and told me he that had two more when I said he might need it himself...

We started with a lovely stroll in the late morning sun along the Prinsengracht, to enjoy a very delicious and big lunch. It was delightful to speak English again, it does flow much more naturally from my mouth these days than Dutch, I'm sorry to say... especially when talking to a friend who's so similar to me that we discovered today that we must be related somehow.We decided we'd walk around a bit further into the city and I asked him to join me on my quest to find the supposed best coffee in Amsterdam. The weather was absolutely delightful all day and we noticed a lot of people wearing orange soccer t shirts.

Just as we're about to hop on the 25 tram (this, we realise, is the tram to all exciting places), we noticed a couple stopping on Segways just near us and Phiroze told me he loves those things and asked the couple if they were for hire somewhere. They told us there was a Segway shop just near the Passenger Terminal, so we delayed the coffee quest for a moment to go see if we could maybe hire them or go on a little tour on them. We felt like doing something crazy and fun like that. Unfortunately, the place was shut, and after a phone call we found out it wasn't going to open at all today. A bit of a bummer, but I'm sure Phiroze will get to ride a Segway again sooner or later. So we had a quick walk through the Muziek Gebouw aan 't IJ which was right near it, and then got on the 25 tram to continue my coffee quest.

Our day was much aided by Phiroze's iPhone with its snazzy google map app and such - and we found the coffee shop very easily. The place was just awesome! It's called Two for Joy Coffee and the coffee there was so good I didn't even need to put sugar in it (I nearly always put sugar in my coffee)! It may well have been the best coffee I've had in Europe ever! There was wifi, too and great music, a lovely atmosphere and an appealing menu. I may very well ride my bike there for breakfast tomorrow, the dark chocolate Granola seems quite the right thing to accompany a morning cappuccino... It really raised my spirits finding that place, and I was already feeling pretty chirpy being able to hang out with a lovely friend on a beautiful day. Of course, I had to order another coffee...it wasn't as good as the first (it nearly never is!) but it was still very good.

We used the place's wifi and Phiroze's iPad and longing for reasons to procrastinate further to look up a movie we could watch together. It turned out to be Rango, at the Pathé at the Amsterdam Arena. We took a cab there, the driver was quite amusing and we got there just in time for the movie. The amount of soccer fans seemed quite concentrated there as our driver had told us the Dutch were playing Hungary at the Arena today. A movie isn't a movie without a massive bucket of popcorn and a (cherry) Coke (more caffeine, yes) and it was a funny film, it seemed to fit the mood just right. We almost watched another movie, but nothing quite grabbed out interest enough and the weather was just a little too lovely to lock ourselves away for another few hours.

We very gladly took the Metro back into Amsterdam, as the amount of loud, slightly obnoxious soccer fans that came out of the station doors was quite frightening. When we got back into the city, Phiroze had decided there was no more point in trying to do any work today, so we might as well do something more fun and exciting than go home. Unfortunately, I know nothing exciting to do in Amsterdam, and as both Phiroze and I are not into alcohol, drugs or visiting the right light district, one could say the city of sin might be a little wasted on us. However, I called my sister for advice and she totally hit the money shot when she suggested visiting the bar at the top of the Okura hotel, drinking a mocktail and watching the sun go down and the night lights come on. The trusty 25 tram was once again the way to happy times.

It was the perfect setting to continue our wonderful day-long conversation, the view was amazing, the sky slightly hazy, the bar quiet with nice music and our mocktails were delicious. We spent quite a long time there, and we couldn't follow up my sister's other suggestion to visit the Toomler Comedy club as it was quite late and nothing seemed to be on there on a Tuesday night. Going out dancing was another thought that crossed our minds, but as we decided that tomorrow is definitely work time, we decided to tram it home.

Today will go down into my happy memory bank as one of those amazing days where you feel anything is possible and the world just loves you and you love the world right back for being friggin' awesome and giving you a wonderful life. Amsterdam was such a beautiful setting for today, I got to admire some of her charming gables and leaning old houses and generally see a bit of her like a proper tourist. I will post a photo or two from today tomorrow, as they're on Phiroze's camera.

For now, I'm going to try and get a bit of sleep - surely once I lay down, my head will realise that perhaps my body would like a rest.

the ginormous time-eating monster

Wel, haha, so much for writing my blog today. I just got home and it's bedtime already. Had a lovely day though, one of many. I know you're all curious to know how I'm faring, all alone in big bad Amsterdam. (a.k.a. the ginormous time-eating monster) I'm making a lot of typos right now because my fingers are tingling and burning from that cold bike ride home from Central Station, so it's slow progress. Better go and make my cup of 'sleepy time tea', be right back.

The tea is more to warm my hands than to put me to sleep, but anything that will aid my sleeping here is welcome. I'm such a light sleeper! Annoying in noisy Amsterdam, I have to say. I struggled to sleep here the first night, partly because I had too much coffee earlier on Saturday. I went to my double whammy gym session in the morning, which I really enjoyed but it totally wiped me out, so I had an espresso to wake me up after I got back so I could drive to Amsterdam. But even after the espresso I felt soooo tired that I had to ask Mum to drive. I fell asleep during the drive here. What caffeine? Then I had some more coffee at my cousin Lieske's place, which did perk me up a bit.

It was great to spend some time with my family together with Mum on Saturday, but then when we got back here, it was really hard to sleep. Stella's cute apartment is at a busy intersection, the corner of the Nassaukade and the Kinkerstraat, there's always traffic here and trams. But then also on Saturday nights, the pub on the corner (next door, that is) plays very, very loud music which really kept me awake and it went until 5 or 6 am. Also, my sister only has one bed which is a double, so Mum and I were sharing it and unfortunately she suffers from sleep apnoea which is quite disturbing to sleep next to. And her heater is extremely loud, and keeps starting up which sounds like an engine starting. All together not much rest for me that night! I was awake long enough to hear a bird start singing and daylight to start. And then there was daylight savings! Hahaha, what a mess.

Sunday was great too, we visited some good friends of ours who live in Amsterdam North, on a gorgeous little dike in a lovely house. We had a delightful day with them, and once again my good friend coffee pulled me though. We didn't get back to the apartment until dinner time, we were both too tired to look for anywhere to eat, so we just got some salads from the Albert Heijn, after which Mum trucked on home. And I was all alone and far from home for the first time in a long time!

Then I was going to write my blog, but then I wanted to put away the leftovers and opened one of Stella's kitchen cabinets and saw what disorganised shelves she had. And well, me being me, had to sort out her plastic containers. Which got me trying to find out where her vacuum was, just because the shelf was covered in crumbs and I thought I'd vacuum it. Then I opened the cabinet with the vacuum, which was also a total disorganised nightmare (for me, I am a bit of an anal retentive when it comes to cupboards) so I sorted that out while I was at it. Then when I was finished, it was way past my bedtime. Not much blogger then either! I also decided to figure out how to ride a bike from here to the Central Station, then where to catch the tram and how to get a chipcard for public transport, plus how to walk from the tram stop to Carla's house, whom I was visiting today.

And this morning I went to see if the people at the Nokia Care center around the corner could make my Aussie phone speak Dutch, as it's very hard to write text messages in Dutch when the phone speaks English, unless I want to type it all out old style. For some silly reason my phone only speaks English and Phillippino! I also wanted to use the GPS system on it to navigate my way through Amsterdam. None of it got organised. They just told me that I had to download the maps myself (which I tried but it didn't work) and then they told me they could make my phone speak Dutch, but it costs €25, they'd have to wipe my phone memory and then it wouldn't speak English anymore either. Useless! (I'm sorry Emma, but) I really, really hate my Nokia! An iPhone wouldn't have any of those problems, my iPod speaks several languages and Google maps works fine here, except of course, that it needs wifi and so it won't help me navigate when I'm out and about. So now I still have two phones and an iPod to carry around.

Sigh. Anyhow, I rode my bike to the station well enough, though my hands were freezing, and then when I tried to buy a chipcard for public transport from the ticket machines, they all (I tried 6!) told me they couldn't distribute them and to go to a counter. That took forever, of course, but I finally managed to get on the tram and made it to Carla's lovely new house in IJburg. It's a very new suburb that looks like Almere, only it's closer to Amsterdam, since it's IN Amsterdam.

It was great to see Carla, and her little girl Maxime and even Martin who came home late, they came to France with us last year. I spent the whole day with them and we had a lovely time.Silly me forgot to bring a packet of Mint Slice and the fluffy Kangaroo I have for Maxime, so we'll have to catch up again very soon. And now I just got home! It's already 11 pm. It was hard riding home just by guessing and I managed to get here just before my fingers froze. Luckily I found a hot water bottle (plus about one million and three shopping bags, a soccer ball, an orange fluffy robe and several hundred stray cotton tips, to name but a few things) in Stella's busy cupboard yesterday, so I can soon curl up under the blankets and try and get some sleep. Another fun filled day awaits me tomorrow. Goodnight all, sleep tight and warmly. x

Amnesterdam

So here I am, on my own at my sister's place. It's Sunday night and I've had a lovely weekend. My Mum just got home safe (I saw she just came online - thank you, mister Interwebs for sharing that information) from spending the weekend here seeing friends and family.

It's been a long few days, so much has happened. I don't even remember when or what I wrote last. I think something about Almere and the real estate guy. Right? (Oooooh, iPod just started playing Florence and the Machine - Dog Days Are Over one of my all time favourite songs!)

Anyway, Friday evening was nice, we went to Uden and I checked out a new gym and asked if I could try out Body Jam and Zumba there Saturday morning and they were happy to have me. Then we went to the stupormarket (that's not a typo, that's what I call it) and decided that Friday night dinner was going to be frieten met saté - chips with chicken in satay sauce. Best with a good dollop of mayo too. Yum. Very Dutch, (despite the fact it's actually brought over from Indonesia), and I hadn't eaten it since I was here last. Another Dutch food I can tick of my list.

Mum's good friends came over for an after dinner drink and we sat around the wood heater and discussed the option of perhaps travelling together to my favourite location in France, Les Bernardies. If you follow that link you might notice in the photos  that there's a familiar face reading a book by the pool :D...I have been going to that place nearly every year since I was in my mum's tummy and it is heaven. This year it didn't seem like we were going to be able to afford to go, but maybe if we all go together we can share the costs...I was very excited about the idea of being able to go there, but then it dawned on me I'd be going there with three old people (well, you know what I mean) in one car and sharing one holiday house. But I think being able to go at all might be worth that.

Saturday morning I went to the new gym and Body Jam-ed to my heart's content, followed by a good dose of Zumba, two hours or full-on exercise. It was great! Definitely switching gyms! Unfortunately by the time I got home I was rushed to get in the shower, pack my bags while Skyping with my husband, so we could leave for Amsterdam in time to be at my cousin's place at 3. I wish I had had time to pack properly because I forgot some things that would have come in handy. But we made it to Amsterdam and came brought a packet of  Mint Slice to share. (They might not be as famous as Tim Tams, but they are more delicious!) It was nice to catch up with family I didn't really know about until last year's family reunion.

Will write more tomorrow, I'm really tired and not writing anything with much creativity.

will post soon - too tired now.

 I miss you too.

Out of the nest

I started this yesterday afternoon (Thursday), but unfortunately I didn't get to finish it then, so start here and it will end down the bottom. Like a lot of things.

I am not in Elsendorp right now, I am in Almere (about 2 hours North, in the polder - super flat with wind turbines. Google Maps it). It feels good not to be home. I get a little cabin fever in Elsendorp, and I feel a bit deprived of social interaction...There's people here, and they are not from Brabant.
Now don't get me wrong, the countryside is great, the town my mum lives is cute and all that. But it ain't happenin', as the young folk call it these days. It smells of piggies or cowsies a lot of the time. There's lots of flies. And the people there talk funny. I'm sorry to be judgemental, but Brabants is not Dutch, it's Brabants, a dialect. And it's not my way of talking (I didn't grow up here, I grew up amongst the tulip fields up north). I cannot follow Brabanders all the time, and for some reason they don't differentiate between 'he' and 'she' when they talk about people, so it can be hard to figure out who exactly they're talking about. "My daughter can't start his car, he just called me." Now that's just weird. As most of you know, I'm all about the correct use of language and this ambiguity bugs me. I will correct you if you say something wrong. My poor husband always cops it. He sometimes calls the shed the 'garage' and it's just not a garage. We don't have a garage, which is an indoor place to park a car. We have a car port, and a shed. The car does not fit in the shed. Besides I wouldn't want our poor car (TOBy, it's called, as the first 3 letters of its licence plate are TOB) (note the correct use of it's and its!!) parked in the shed, as it's dark and full of spiders there.

(By the way, please let me know if I make any typos in my blog - I hate being a hypocrite.)

Now where was I trying to go with this? Oh yes, they speak Dutch in Almere. It's nice. I don't know much about this place, otherwise. I have found a Greek eatery with nice small dishes (fried potatoes with Parmasan and garlic, though I was under the impression Parmasan was from Parma in Italy, but it tastes nice all the same) with free wifi. I love free wifi. I have an iPod touch, which I wish was an iPhone 4, but it's not. So I only have access to the web via my iPod when there is wifi around. I must admit I am a big fan of the internets/ interwebs/the net/Googletown or as the old folk know it: the World Wide Web (that's where the www comes from, yes!) I am borderline Gen X/Y so I like my information now, right now, please. I like a bit of Facebook here and there too, but not so much the Twittering/Tweeters. I never got Twitter. Just update your Facebook, no?

Anyway, so I am in Almere, eating potatoes with garlic and cheese, drinking OJ, webbing away, and I'm enjoying the sun. The sun, ladies and gentlemen, has arrived. It's been tremendously splendid weather here. I am feeling my neck getting burnt as we speak. Oh, you might wonder why I am in Almere. It's because Mum secretly wanted a driver. She didn't say that, she said she'd like to drop by my aunt (her sister and my godmother) after the interview she needs to take, who lives very close-by here and I haven't seen her yet since I got to the NL. Mum needed to do the interview for a magazine she and my aunty are working on. Mum has not yet told my aunty we're dropping by, and it might not even be convenient for her if we do. I know she's pretty busy and I have a feeling we won't get to drop by. In which case, we just drove here for the interview. So, go figure. I know my Mum enjoys it when she doesn't have to drive. Driving here is exhausting. Dutch drivers are very uptight and pushy. And rude! I miss Australian traffic, and my car. Oh, my lovely TOBy. We only got TOBy last year, he's a beautiful black Citröen C4 from 2005, panoramic glass roof, cream leather duo tone interior, heated electric seats, automatic everything, senses everything, TOBy is the bomb. It even has fold-away storage compartments in the boot. For someone obsessed with organisation, neatly labelled boxes and storage, that is a selling point.

Mum's car is a truck (almost). It has lots and lots of space and even overhead compartments like in an airplane! It's a Renault Kangoo, and the most basic model at that. It does not feel like a sexy drive. When I get out of it, people look and assume I left my kids at home. When Ash and I were looking for a new car last year, I wanted a car that said 'we do not have children' (for obvious reasons) and we even contemplated getting a convertible. TOBy does the job well, though, with his lovely clean cream coloured interior. No dog for us any time soon, either, though we do like dogs and would sooner get a dog than have kids. But we work too much and travel too much to have one right now. One day.

(That's where I got to yesterday, the following is written today, Friday)
So, after that speculation I wrote before on driving to Almere just for the interview: I was right. My aunty was not able to have us over, so I drove to Almere to spend an hour eating fried potatoes and to write my blog, which to be honest, is quite a long way to drive for something you can do at home. To make matters worse, by the time we were ready to drive back, peak hour had hit and it took us 3 hours to get home, and we spent a lot of that time sitting in traffic jams. And that after what I wrote about Dutch traffic yesterday! I got very, very cranky. I do not enjoy driving a manual car in a traffic jam, my legs gets sore from all the pedalling, it feels cumbersome and exhausting. I do not understand why the Dutch are so hell-bent on manual cars - stick shifts are just so backward! They are under the impression here that a manual car is 'cool' and automatic cars are for old people. But I agree with most of Australia that an automatic car is simply comfortable and manual cars are for rev-heads and people who can't afford an automatic car. Why the hell do you need to change gears unless you're a rally driver or drive a race car? I'm sure most Europeans will disagree with me here, though.

Anyhow, with all the god awful traffic jams yesterday I missed out on my Zumba class, too, which didn't help my mood. I don't particularly love that class, but I do enjoy the exercise. We got home around 7 pm, ate some soup, lit the fire, and relaxed a little. I watched a bit of my favourite Aussie comedian Adam Hills online (yay for the internet!) and that cheered me up a lot. He's so funny and kind and he's never crude or offensive like some other comedians.

This morning was busy. The real estate guy was visiting this afternoon and the house still looked like a bomb had gone off, so Netty (a friend of Mum's who helps her with the housekeeping (and god knows Mum needs it)) and I frantically stuffed stuff in boxes and tried to tidy lots of stuff by hiding it in the garage. He was a nice guy and told us that we were doing exactly the right thing by de-cluttering the place and freshening it up with a bit of paint, and not to worry to much. No need for anything radical, he said. He's coming back in a few weeks to take the photos. We need those weeks!

But I am leaving for Amsterdam tomorrow, which I am looking forward to. I've got quite a few friends to catch up with, including a friend from Australia (Hi Phiroze, looking forward to Tuesday!And thank you for reading my blog!), who has been based in Amsterdam for almost two years, but travels 333 days of the year for work so here's never actually here, but he just happens to be around next week. Amazing! Of course my dear friend Emily lives in Amsterdam too, I look forward to spending some time with her, and my friend Renée works in Amsterdam so she's coming for a sleepover on Wednesday. There's lots of fun to be had! And no boxes to be packed or repacked or unpacked or sorted. Yay! I might tidy my sister's place as a thank you and fold her socks. Yes, I fold socks. And very well, too.

I am taking the laptop and my sister's place has wifi (woo!) so you will be able to come with me. See you there!

Ghosts of the past

Of course, once upon a time, I was a child and not long after that, a teenager. And going through boxes and boxes of stuff from my past, I have been well confronted with my treasures and keepsakes from those days. Also a box school work, art, lessons, sums. Mum decided to keep lots of seriously useless pieces of paper representing my complete lack of talent for drawing. And also lots of sums, all of which I did wrong. I have never had any comprehension of numbers and how they relate to each other. Words, however...I found one of my first poems on riding a bike in the wind, written at age 10 or 11. Cute. Also a story I had to write as punishment for forgetting my books in my Dutch class, about a girl who forgot her books. Another story, quite well written for a 15 year old, and I got an 8.5 (in Holland often grades were given out of 10). It was only the beginning.

Funny stuff. I was a funny kid. Full of imagination. Crazy about Lego, Playmobil, Barbies. (Still have most of those and cannot bear to give them away. Maybe one day I will have a child! And they'll be just like me, full of imagination!) Any alternate world I could get lost in with my best friends Kim and Emily. I could spend hours living in a tiny world completely of my own making. Not very different from when I was a teenager when I would spend hours writing stories, still creating other worlds. I continued that well into my twenties. What do you mean, escapism?

I think I was a relatively happy child, I mean, I remember it being a happy childhood -I think I was a pleasant, cheerful child to be around. I used to get terribly frightened at night, though. Nights of not being able to go to sleep. Always had a light on. Too scared to go to the toilet. Wanting to wake my mother. I couldn't stand the dark. I was terrified of ghosts. That's what really always got to me, because ghosts were so elusive, they could go through walls, you were never safe. For a child with an over-active imagination, it wasn't fun being in the dark. I could see stuff in every shadow, was sure I saw something, curtains moving, an eye gleaming. I was sent to go and see someone about it, back in primary school. She was a nice lady, always had licorice and Ranja (cordial) and I remember doing drawings and playing games. She had me make my own cute ghost out of an old sheet, with a kind face. I enjoyed seeing her. Don't think it did much for my fear of ghosts, though.

In contrast to my cheerful childhood full of happy imaginative worlds with friends, I was a seriously morose teenager. My goodness. Very, very melancholic. Seriously wistful to the extent of wanting to be somewhere else almost at all times. Obsessed with wanting to live in a fairytale castle. I have many, many sketches of pretty little chateaus in beautiful forests, by a lake with a jetty and a small boathouse where events took place. Many, many stories of a girl who lived in such a place, loved by a handsome, wonderful young man, with delightful friends and generous parents. But those stories always had a dark twist. Kidnap, torture, murder, angst. Eek. I told you about my dark patch. I like how Dexter (tv series, love it) refers to his dark side as the 'dark passenger'. I have one of those. He's mostly accommodated in a comfortable business lounge these days, so he stays out of my hair, but back in my teens, he was kind of ruling my world.

It wasn't fun being a teenager, though I had everything and more that I could wish for. My mother has always given me more than I would ever give a child. Every Barbie accessory, every Playmobil set, Lego with lights in it, ballet lessons, expensive clothes, weekends away, ski holidays, summer holidays, friends were allowed to come,  I was well cared for.  I wish I could go back to my teenage self and tell me how bloody ungrateful I was. I'm sure I was told once in a while. But teenagers don't comprehend that sort of stuff.
For some reason, I was convinced that being someone other than myself would be better. There was absolutely NOTHING wrong with me, I was slim, pretty, witty, all sorts of lovely stuff, I danced a lot, so I had a perfect figure and super long legs back then (Not so much now :S). I had a few terrifically loving boyfriends (consecutively, not all at the same time!)  But I was so bloody mopey! Such a downer all the time. Could not grasp that I was just fine. I needed to hear it constantly, all the time, all I wanted to hear was how bloody fabulous I was, and if I was told, I couldn't believe it. Pah! What a nightmare. Sorry Mum!

Luckily, when I was seventeen and at a fantastic school (Vrije Hogeschool voor de Kunsten, every teenager should attend it) I was told the truth by my best friend and my boyfriend at the time: that I was such depressing company. That I brought people down with my negative attitude. Bloody hard to be told that, I have to tell you. It hurt like hell. I cried and cried and my dark passenger was sitting there laughing in my face, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I went through a very, very dark time. But thankfully, I was also told that I had the power to change my life, that only I could do that, and nobody else.

And now, looking back on it, it feels like I changed just like that. I chose I didn't want to be the kind of misery-loves-company-type of person. I didn't want to spread doom and gloom. I decided to cheer the hell up. And it was so easy! It was so bloody easy to smile and be cheerful. I moved to a most awesome city called Utrecht, into a lovely house with a friend from my old school among my housemates, got a job at the Jaarbeurs (exhibition center) and came to make new friends, who thought I was fun. I had an awesome housemate called Sandra, who lived in the room next to mine, we'd go roller skating together, we both had beautiful black leather roller skates, I still have them. We had so much fun. We've lost touch, I hope she is well. So many people from my past that I've come across over the last few weeks, little notes passed in classrooms, letters and postcards (this was before the internet was king!) I wish I could visit them all again, tell them 'thanks - you made a difference in my life'. Plenty of memories stored in my bank of happiness.

Anyhow, at work I met a girl who had just come back from backpacking around Australia. She convinced me to go. And well, that's how I became a Dutchstralian.

Monsterous little angels

It's like this, you're thirty, you've been married for a year or two, you're happy, you're working, everything is great. Then people ask you the most ridiculous question: "When are you having children?"
Why on earth do people think I would want to ruin my perfectly happy, quiet, relaxed marriage by adding another person to my household, one that does nothing to help out, and does everything to keep you occupied at all hours of the day? So my answer, has been since I was a teenager, is a very clear "Never!"

And, as most of you know, I know more than most women without children what the reality is when you do have children. Up until two weeks ago, I had eleven children. E -lev-en. All four and under. So there. I have spent the last five years of my life as a nanny, looking after other people's children. YES, I KNOW IT'S DIFFERENT WHEN THEY'RE YOUR OWN. Before I'm ever finished telling people anything about my job, they tell me that. It's different when they're your own. I know that. I know. I have seen it.

(These are 12 of the many amazing children I've looked after)

'My' eleven kids (maybe with the exception of my 3 little babies) are all perfect little angels for me, most of the time. Then when Mum gets home, it all goes to shit. They cry, they whinge, they behave appallingly. It's a nightmare being a mum and coming home to that! You want your kids to happily jump into your arms and give you cuddles, not throw tantrums only to be told by the nanny that they've been perfectly behaved all day! Being a nanny is easy - compared to being a mum. The children I've looked after have always listened to me, been obedient, well behaved, cute, and adorable. They've done things for me that they won't do for their parents. My big twin girls (gorgeous things, they were flower girls at our wedding) would never let their Mum or Dad brush their hair, but for me it's never been a problem. Kids might behave like they're sick or unwell in the morning (it's a trick! It makes parents feel bad about leaving) but the moment Mum has left the house, it's all fun and games and what are we doing now, Florence?

Children are intelligent little things. They are smart. I can't stand people who talk to children as if they're stupid, because they are anything but. They haven't experienced much yet, so that's why they don't know things, not because they're stupid. And they're constantly busy gaining knowledge - why this? why that? why? why? They're always into everything, your pockets, your bag, the cupboards, looking for stuff, wanting to know everything. Nosy little things they are. It got a bit much for me in the end, the constant questions, the endless nosiness.

I am an extremely patient person when it comes to kids. I can repeat myself a million times (please sit down on your chair, I don't want you to fall off) (don't talk with your mouth full, please, I can't hear what you're saying) (can you please talk one at a time?) (less talking, more eating) (less giggling, more eating) (less singing, more eating) (please sit down and put your seatbelt on) (please don't stand on my feet, I am not a stool) (please don't hang off my arms, I am not a jungle gym) (etc.) (x1000000000) But after 5 years, I'm a bit over repeating myself.
I have never yelled at a kid in anger, maybe in fear of them getting hurt (DON'T JUMP OFF THAT!!!) but I don't need to raise my voice. I just need to change my tone and give them my look.  Oh yes, I have a look. It's very serious and it works very well.

But I know, I know, kids are and endless source of joy and laughter. They are sincerely genuinely caring, without a hidden agenda. They don't lie about their feelings. They love you, unconditionally. If you love them, if you give them time and attention, and boundaries, they will love you. It's a fact. I have more kiddie-love under my belt that most people my age. They give awesome cuddles. (Sometimes snotty/drooly/cough-in-your-face kinds of cuddles, but you don't mind.) They are hilarious. They all enjoy making you laugh, for no other reason than that they want to make you happy. It's all they want.

And a sleeping child is the most beautiful thing in the world. I've always wanted to write a poem with the title 'House with sleeping children' but I never wrote it, because it is a poem in itself. A house with sleeping children feels wonderful, warm, safe. It is a miraculous thing.

And the truth is, my view on kids is quite limited. I have always worked with kids 5 and under. Littlies, who need lots and lots of attention. I know children aren't like that all their lives. They aren't always, noisy, nosy, intrusive, demanding little things. They grow out of it.

But for now, I need to grow out of my job. Then I might reconsider.

To the City!

Good morning, team. I decided you deserved another hit of my wit. Yesterday's attempt was pretty average, though I appreciate your kind comments! Know that I think about you very often, and ponder on how to enthral and amuse you on a daily basis. I write for all of us.

I wanted to inform you that this coming Saturday, I will be moving to Amsterdam for a week. My lovely sister is going snowboarding for a week and has not only offered me her cute flat in central Amsterdam, but also the keys to her bike and even her car (a convertible! It is spring!How lucky am I?). She is awesome! I wish she would be there too, to join in the fun and games I hope to enjoy up there, but I'm sure she'll enjoy carving up the mountains much more.
I am pretty excited, but also a little scared. Amsterdam is like Melbourne's much bigger and tougher brother. I have learnt last year that I ride a bicycle like a granny now. My friend Emily thought it was quite hilarious the way I rode. Not at all Dutch. I do ride a bike in Melbourne (not as often as I should, but the weather's been so damn wet!) but there is NO comparison riding a bike in Melbourne to riding a bike in Amsterdam. Bike paths are shared at all times with either pedestrians or cars, both of which have no regard for cyclists. And can you believe there is NO bike parking anywhere at any of the central stations in Melbourne? None.

I'm a little apprehensive mixing with the Amsterdam traffic, there's trams and cars and lots of scooters and more bikes than one could comprehend. And I am also quite terrified of driving my sister's convertible, as I have a strong suspicion that there is no rear window to speak of, more a strip of plastic that once was see-through, but now just lets in some light. I might just wait until it's warm enough to drive with the roof down for my first drive, so I have plenty of rear vision. That and a quiet time of traffic. In Amsterdam. Yeah, right.

But, as you all know, I am a confident and strong person, who shall jump these hurdles with grace and style. (Or with grazes and flailing.)

Also, I am a little worried about feeling lonely. I have friends to meet with in Amsterdam, but they do work during business hours, so I will have to entertain myself during the day. And thanks to my serious lack of money (I have €12.45 in my bank account) I won't be able to visit lots of cool touristy things. Luckily I should soon have another €80 that my sister borrowed off my credit card and she has put in my Dutch account yesterday. I was under the impression that Ash and I had some money back in Australia, but since I checked yesterday, in actual fact, nope we don't. It might have something to do with living it up off the credit card around Xmas time, flying my Mum in from Holland and taking her and my mother-in-law to some nice restaurants...Also something to do perhaps with our little weekend in the Barossa Valley (wine region in South Australia, we went there for our best man's wedding) where we splashed out a little buying lots of wine and renting a convertible...ah, to be young, with a double income and no children. It. Is. The. Best.

You know, I like having money. My own money. Who doesn't? When you're used to having it, it's pretty damn annoying when suddenly you don't. It was the same when Ash and I were stuck in London for seven weeks, in the middle of the financial crisis, because he had to work there and I had to try and amuse myself during the day with no money to speak of. The Aussie dollar doesn't stretch very far in the UK, and neither does it here. I hate it. I wish I could work here, but I can't, really, since I am here to help my Mum sort out her house and if I had a job, I would spend most of my time doing that and the whole purpose of my coming here would be wasted.

But I like having people I love around me even more than having money. And despite the fact that Mum drives me crazy sometimes, and we disagree sometimes and have to have it out, I love her company. I love having her around, just sitting in her study typing away, while I sit here at the dining room table. Just spending time together, in the same space, it's very pleasant. And Amsterdam being big and scary and me being a little insecure at times, it makes me a little worried being there all by myself. I've contacted a lot of friends, but I haven't heard back from most of them yet...

I'm thinking of looking up lots of Zumba and Body Jam classes in Amsterdam, most gyms have a free 'trial' class, so perhaps I will just go to lots of different gyms and 'try' a class for free, and get lots of exercise while I'm up there.
You know, just between you and me, I think I am losing weight! Normally, when I come, as I have mentioned before, I gain about a kilo per week. But that has a lot to do with the fact that I need to cram all my favourite Dutch foods into the two or three weeks that I am here, plus I spend the other two weeks in France where there are lots and lots of delicious foods that I have to eat. Same deal, two weeks, hundreds of lovely delicacies, so it's food without borders, and I allow myself to eat whatever I want because I'm on holidays and it's all a lot of fun. And then when I get back to Australia it's winter there, I go back to my gym, and work it all off in a month or two. It works.
But now, I don't need to cram all my Dutch delicacies into a few weeks, so I'm pacing myself. I do enjoy bits here and there, you know, rookworst, kroket, duck, chocomel met slagroom, but I know I have months ahead of me, so I don't need to eat it all right now. And I have time to exercise. Boring rural Zumba, wood chopping, moving furniture and boxes. It's good.

I have to go. I'm still in my pj's, robe & fluffy chicken slippers and it's almost coffee o'clock! Better get dressed, get some caffeine in me and get on with the boxes and the furniture. Oh here's a picture:

This picture shows the fluffy chicken slippers, two years ago in beautiful France. I don't wear those pyjama pants anymore, they have a hole in them now. Right on the butt. These are my current pyjama pants:

I love these pyjama bottoms, as they have super cute forest creatures on them. My favourite is a smiling fox. But I also love the two different hedgehogs, since my Mum has two hedgehogs in her garden.

Like I knew you wood

Hi! Did you miss me? I missed you heaps. I know it's been a few days, but to tell you the truth, there hasn't been much to write about these last few days. They were all pretty much the same: I opened lots of dusty boxes, looked and sorted what was inside those boxes, then put those things in other boxes. I started looking for a new gym as I'm already sick of the Zumba classes in Gemert, they are all the same, and every song has pretty much the same steps. I miss my teacher Julia from Oz! I found a gym in Uden (friggin' miles away) that does Body Jam AND Zumba, so I'm going to go for a test lesson there soon. Oh, and I was also quite occupied booking our flight to Copenhagen (yeah!) and finishing my book, which is awesome. Go read Jasper Jones, everyone. It's even available in Dutch! Now I'm reading a classic Dutch young adult novel called Schoolidyllen that I found on my travels through our stuff, which was written in 1900 by a woman who was 18 at the time. It took me a while to get used to the old Dutch language and it's very far removed from the lovely writing of Craig Silvey, but I'm quite into it now.

Today I got more exercise than I have all week by chopping some wood with an axe. Yes, I can chop, I gots da muscles. And as it was a lovely warm (14 C!) day with sun, I really built up a sweat. Stella was painting the kitchen window, Mum was weeding and sorting the garden, a lovely active family day. My sister got here late last night, so it was a breakfast together like old times this morning. With bacon, eggs and croissants. And for lunch we had foie gras to start with, then duck breast, fried potatoes and broccoli. Deeeeelicious! Mum likes to make it special when we're all together, so I'm glad I kind of worked out a bit chopping wood.

We had lots of branches that were cut from the walnut tree two years ago just standing up against the wall in the garden, and I decided that I needed to chop those for the wood heater. Mum buys bags of wood (though the garage is full of the old water damaged wooden floor, chopped up for the heater, but she was convinced that wood 'doesn't burn well') and so I thought if I chopped up all that wood, it would tidy up the garden a bit, as well as provide some more firewood that does burn well. It was really hard work and I am amazed I managed to get through it without axing myself in the foot/face/hand/arm/back/nose/etc. But then again, I am pretty clever/a pretty cleaver. Here's some pictures of my handiwork.

I started the day feeling tired (Mum and I stayed up late waiting for Stella to arrive, we didn't want her to arrive to a cold sleeping house, so we stayed up and had the fire going) and so this morning I didn't feel like doing anything, but once I started chopping, it all turned out well. When I had finished my pile of logs, I decided I would make a fire in our outside pot belly wood heater to get rid of the mess of wood chips I had created. It was one smoky affair! I smell like a smoked herring right now. But in the end I had a good little fire going, in which I burnt a lot of the dead twigs and leaves that were messing up the garden, plus all my wood chips. Once I start a fire I love tending to it. I went all around the garden looking for the right bits of dried junk to keep it going. It was fun. Fire is awesome.

Then, it was time for tea with kersenvlaai (cherry pie). Oooh yeah.

After that, the weather started cooling down (it's going to be -4 overnight) so I decided to transfer the outside fire to the wood heater inside by getting the little shovel, scooping up a hot pile of embers from the outside fire, and placing it inside on top of some newspaper, on top of which I put some logs. Whoooooooosh, it was on! Best way to start a fire, is with fire. Now I am burning a lot of the wood I chopped today, along with the old wooden floor from the garage that in the end, really does burn quite well. Sometimes it's better to show your mother you're right than try to convince her verbally. It's like that sometimes.

I am totally spent right now, really tired and smelly and grubby, so I am soon going to soak in a hot bath. You can probably tell how tired I am from the lack of wit and creativity in this post, but oh well. I'm sorry. My last one was really deep, so I think I'm allowed a superficial 'and then, and then' story today. Soon I once again will be the witty, intelligent, creative blogger you all know and love. But for now, say hi to you Mum for me. x

currency

I still find it hard not to wake up and feel overwhelmed. I really shouldn't read the paper in the morning. It's never good news. Another two earthquakes, one in Vanuatu, one in Chile. Fifty Japanese workers have been dubbed the modern kamikazes for trying to prevent a meltdown at one of the Japanese nuclear reactors, exposing themselves to radiation to attempt to save their nation from exposure. The Aussie dollar has plummeted, making our money worth less than yesterday, though Ash is still working just as hard over there.

And then there's the little fact of my task here. My mother's house. All that stuff. I keep finding things, thinking they might be worth something to someone, that it will be worth putting them on ebay. But when I research them, it turns out they're hardly worth selling. I had the hope of creating a little bit of money to help Mum with all that still needs to be done. And so it turns out the house is just filled with junk. How much of it do we really need? If it burned down today - how much would we really miss?

The problem is, that I am not just my mother's child, but I also have my father's genes. I am a child of opposites. My mother is the most positive, accepting, forgiving person I know. Unfortunately, my father is quite the opposite. I have experienced him as being pessimistic, passive and quite focused on money. Unfortunately, I too can be very pessimistic and passive, and easily feel ready to give up and blame the world for putting me in this position. I can feel really depressed at times, which I know he does too. I don't blame him for that. But I can't accept that he just gives up on things, on people. On me.

Yes, I get depressed and disheartened. But then my mother's genes, love and support wash over me. I get up, wipe the tears from my eyes and get on with things. It has taken me most of my life to learn not dwell on the feelings of powerlessness, loneliness and loss, but to draw strength from the joy in my life. That is a lesson I learnt from my mother. She has never stopped teaching me that.

Those of you who know my mother, knows she is amazing. She is strong and wise; the eternal coach and teacher. She cheers everyone on, all the time. She is always ready with advice, with some words of support, with a different view on things. She cannot give up on anything or anyone. There is always a way forward with her. She will never miss an opportunity to share her wisdom, to teach you.

But sometimes for me, having a mother like that can be a little exasperating. Sometimes I've just wanted her to not talk or teach, but to just give me a cuddle and let me cry. I know by now, after being told by her for 30 years that it'll all work out, that it will work out. Just give me this moment to let out my feelings, give them room, they will pass and I will get up and go do whatever needs to be done. I no longer let a moment of desperation keep me down. She has taught me that lesson already - it is well engrained into my life, and I am teaching this lessons to others now myself. You have succeeded, Mum, in raising a child that will not give up. You can rest easy, mission accomplished!

My sister and I  have been taught another important lesson by this amazing woman. That the most valuable thing in the world is not tangible, not worth any money, does not have a price. It's happiness. That's our currency. That's how we know we're rich. We feel rewarded with it. We can draw from the bank of happiness to deal with the dreadful. And we make every moment count. Mum has taught us, that a happy moment is easily made. It just takes being conscious of it, noticing it, acknowledging it. Here I am, feeling happy. Done. I did that several times this week on my terrific Tuesday. Banked those happy moments. I was in Madurodam, having an amazing time. Banked. I was on the beach, in the warm sun with no jacket, eating kroketten. Banked. I walked through the Escher exhibit in the palace, feeling inspired and amazed by the beauty of art and the building. Banked. Instead of sitting in traffic for hours, we sat on the boulevard eating pancakes and drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream, watching the sun set into the sea. Banked.

And at a moment like this morning, lying in bed feeling depressed by the misery in the world and the tedious task at hand, I went to the bank, and pulled out the lunch on the beach memory. I remembered the feeling of the first warm day of the year, the happy surprise of it. The joy on every person's face. All the beach tents were still mostly closed for business, but they were abuzz with preparations for the arrival of spring. Hammering, sawing, painting, music playing, activity, jumpers off. The scent of paint on the breeze, mixed with food and salty sea air. Anticipation, excitement. Spring is almost here!

So, here I sit. I have finished my breakfast and cup of tea. I have finished passing on my mother's great life lessons through my blog. I will get up, get dressed, bring my mother a cup of coffee at the little shop, then I will get on with chucking lots of junk away. You can't throw memories away, they stay. And if you forget one, there's a new one just waiting to happen just around the corner.

And to my beautiful little friend Cinzia, who is turning one today - I know you won't remember this day when you are 30, but it'll be stored somehow in your bank of happiness. Love you, little rabbit.

short

Today I spent a long time sorting through a small amount of stuff.

The end.

Traffic Offense (not offence) + Beached

(please note, there are lots of  green coloured links (<-- like that) in this post, all of which lead you to exciting and interesting places)

I have been on a 24-hour holiday - my apologies for those of you, I'm sure there are many, who have been checking my blog obsessively waiting for the latest instalment. I know waiting can be hard. Just ask the man in the Lexus ad. (I wonder who is responsible for such a great ad...perhaps my sister & co at Launched. Amsterdam?) It might not be a great ad for those of you who don't speak Dutch, but you'll get the drift.

Anywho - a lot has happened since my last post. Really, heaps! My mum had to train some people in a city called The Hague, where our parliament resides, and our Queen. It's Holland's Canberra, only fun, pretty and close to a beach. And as traffic in Holland can be extremely busy (+ offensive), she often goes to places the night before - otherwise you can be stuck in traffic for hours and hours, which means you have to get up really early. Altogether not fun. And we're all about fun.

So on Monday after dinner, I drove us to The Hague. We have a TomTom (sat nav) who tells us where to go, so we thought it would be a breeze getting to our hotel. The breeze bit stopped once we got into the Hague. There was a set of retractable poles that blocked out way which TomTom wanted as to drive through, but we weren't driving a tank so we couldn't. Good old TomTom had us going round and round and friggin' round in circles, getting tediously close to our hotel (we could almost smell our beds) but we kept ending up at the same damn spot with the retractable poles. In Melbourne (oh, fairly traffic-free, easy-to-navigate Melbourne) you get out your Melways (street directory) and tell TomTom to shut up, and you can still get to where you want to go. Not so here, here if TomTom's WrongWrong, you get StuckStuck! ! In the end we pulled over and called the hotel, who told us to first drive to the central station, and then it should be easy from there. Getting to the station was NOT easy, and by that time (we probably were trying to get to the hotel for about an hour after getting into The Hague) I had had enough and told Mum she could drive.

To illustrate why driving through The Hague was so stressful for me, I have only driven an automatic car in wide-roaded, cyclist-free Australia, until I learnt how to drive a manual car last year. I started driving in Holland for the first time last summer, and I haven't really driven in busy cities with cyclists bloody everywhere, and super narrow one way streets with cyclists + scooters going both ways, as well as trying to change gears and trying to figure out where to go.

After we swapped seats, Mum managed to get us stuck in a lane that was only for trams, DING DING DING, and we quickly jumped the curb to the relative safety of a road for cars. After another bit of road block and driving around we finally, finally made it to the hotel. Hallelujah!

I had decided that while Mum was working, I would entertain myself in The Hague by visiting Madurodam (a super cool miniature city containing many Dutch landmarks) which I had not been to since I was little, hit the beach in seaside town Scheveningen and check out the Escher exhibit in the old Queen-Mother Emma's winter palace. I was also going to be driving through the city with only TomTom (or maybe I should call him DomDom( = DumbDumb in Dutch)) for directions. I made it to Madurodam relatively easy, after ignoring DomDom because I looked at a map first, until I hit, you guessed it, a road block! I knew that I was really close to Madurodam, so I just parked the car in a residential street and walked the rest of the way. I wasn't going to use Madurodam's car park anyway, as it cost 6€ and I am not working at the moment, my Mum has no money, so we're not paying for parking if we can help it. Frugal, yes.

Madurodam was totally awesome! I really, really enjoyed it - I spend 3.5 hours looking around in the freezing cold at tiny little buildings. It was deserted when I got there, apart from the maintenance men/women who were cleaning out some of the water ways (= up to their shins in stinking mud, singing aloud and laughing with each other) and doing up some of the buildings. By the time I left, the weather had gotten sunny and the place was packed out. I really loved how with a push of a button, or sometimes a 10 cent coin, you could make things play music/move. The Mars factory delivered me a tiny mars bar on a tiny truck. A tiny fun fair went off with music and a roller coaster. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed my visit. Check out the history of the place on the website, it was initially developed as a way to raise funds to help students with TB finish their studies, and our queen was the first Mayor of Madurodam at the age of 14. If you're ever in The Hague, it's well worth a visit.

I decided that since by the time I left it was sunny and lunch time, I would try and eat some lunch in Scheveningen. It was the best decision of the day. I drove to Scheveningen, where all parking is paid and limited to 1 hour, so I decided that I would just deal with that. I found myself a heavenly spot at a beach lounge/bar on the beach, the sun had suddenly decided that yes, she would just use all her power to warm us, and I found one of my favourite Dutch foods on the menu: Kwekkeboom kroketten. I just sat there in the sun, I had taken my jacket and scarf off, and lounged. It was absolutely ace! The coffee was totally disgusting, but I just pretended it wasn't. I miss Melbourne coffee! It was a pity I had to get back to the car as my hour was up.

After that, I drove around trying to find the famous Kurhaus hotel. I had seen quite a fancy hotel near where I lunched, which looked suspiciously like what I thought the Kurhaus looked like, but it didn't say anywhere that it was. So after driving around for about 10 minutes, I asked DomDom to take me there. Turns out that yes, the hotel I saw earlier was in fact the Kurhaus. So I decided that I would drive around and find the one street away from the beach with no 'paid parking' signs or parking machines and figured that parking is free there. I walked to the fancy-schmansy Kurhaus hotel and decided that, why the hell not, I would go in and look around. I needed a toilet anyway. I found a fancy-schmancy toilet and shone my shoes since there was a shoe shining machine there anyway. Then I had a good look at the beautiful building and the famous ceiling in the restaurant/main hall. And since it was such lovely weather and I was having such a great day, I agreed that it would be nice to treat myself to a cocktail on the terrace and have myself a decadent old time. However, the terrace was not in use, and cocktails could only be consumed inside. So I decided that I would skip the cocktail. So I just went to the Kurhaus to use the toilet and shine my shoes.

After a stroll through the shopping arcade, I decided I had seen all there was to be seen in Scheveningen and headed back to The Hague to visit the Escher exhibit. DomDom took me there, got me stuck at the same damn spot as in the morning when I tried to get to Madurodam, and took me a very long way round, but I got there. I parked in front of another fancy hotel, Hotel des Indes, couldn't find a parking meter or signs saying I couldn't park there, so I decided I had found another 'free' spot. There were yellow lines along the curb, but I don't know what that means, nor did the lady at the Escher exhibit, so I just decided it was fine. (I am an Australian resident for parking purposes.)

The Escher exhibit was really cool, and so it the building it's in. It's an old winter 'palace' bought by the Queen-Mother  in 1896, but really it was just a very big fancy house, very modest for a palace! One of the other cool things there were the chandeliers by Hans van Bentem.

I made it back to where Mum was with the instructions of DomDom, and no road blocks! Then, we agreed that we did not feel like being in traffic for hours on the way home, so we opted to go back to Scheveningen for pancakes by the beach and make the most of the setting sun. I ordered Chocomel with slagroom, (hot chocolate with whipped cream) and a pancake with bacon and cheese. While we enjoyed our dinner we heard on the radio that the free way we were meant to drive home on had a 22km traffic jam on it. We cheered our drinks and decided that we much, much rather sit by the seaside and eat delicious pancakes than sit in the car and hate going nowhere.

Altogether, a very lovely touristy day for me. We got home around 9 pm and were alseep by 10 pm. Now, it's cloudy and gray and cold outside and it will be for the rest of the week. I can't believe my luck that the one day this week that weather is fabulous, I found myself at a beach.

Muck

Have you ever removed the drawer where you put the washing powder from your washing machine and looked at what's inside the hole it goes in? I can tell you, if the machine is say, 15 years old like ours, it will be disgustingly filled with brown/black muck. I can not believe we wash our clothes in that thing and thought they were clean when they came out. I decided today that it was time to give the little washing powder drawer a bit of a wash, as there was some washing powder caked inside it, and the fabric softener compartment had gotten quite yucky too. But when I removed the drawer from the washing machine I saw how gross it really was in there. Then, it took me about an hour and a half to get it slightly cleaner, failing to shift the caked on muck even with a chisel. A chisel!

Then I did another job that is very much appreciated and needed when I stay with my mother, which is sort out her computer. When she installs software, she always does the 'recommended' install which always installs all sorts of extra software and crap you don't need. So I spend a few hours cleaning up and sorting out her software, get rid of all the adware and the computer is 5x quicker. Easy job, well done. Go me.

I also finished the de-mossing-the-roof job. The weather wasn't too cold, though it was grey. At times I could feel a drop of rain on my head followed immediately by a short attempt at sunshine. The weather couldn't quite make up its mind. I did succeed in violently persuading nearly all the moss to come off the roof.

And once I finished that, I took the leaf blower to hand. Oh my. I have never used it before, but I've seen how it's done on tv. It looks fairly easy. Except, when I started, the air was blowing out of a hole in the bottom. Right, there was meant to be some sort of bag attached there. I find the bag, attach it, hoping it might somehow now blow out the front bit. But it sucks, and even better with the bag attached, so I accidentally suck up a plastic plant pot which makes a hell of a racket. Whoops. Finally, after having asked my mother who also doesn't know how to make it blow, we realised that one attachment is for blowing, another is for sucking.
Finally I was up an away, blowing leaves all over the place. A lot of them had fallen ages ago and were stuck and started decomposing, so believe me, it did not look like how people do it on tv. It took me a while to blow most of the moss and leaves into a corner, after which I changed the attachment and turned it into a garden vacuum cleaner. It really sucked! It actually mulches the leaves as it sucks them into the bag, so it's quite a nifty machine, if not a super noisy one. I don't think you're meant to suck up nutshells, just leaves, but as we have a giant wall nut tree in the middle of our backyard, it cannot be helped and it makes such noise. I also think one should remember to zip the bag back up after emptying a load of leaves into the container - because if you don't, very soon tiny bits of leaf are inside your ears, jumper, face, hair, noise, clothes and even your underwear. Not that I would have experience with that...

Oh, my foods. Haven't told you about my culinary trip of today. Hm, let me think. Croissants with Nutella for breakfast - traditional Sunday morning fare in our household. Not in Australia, though. There on Sunday I am allowed (by me) to eat my weekly bowl of Cheerios. Despite the lies the put on the box, I know Cheerios hold no nutritional value and it should not be eaten every day. On Saturdays Ash and I always go out for breakfast, which is a very, very Melbourne thing to do. I already miss it! Normally on weekdays back in good old Oz, I eat fruit-free toasted muesli (I hate sultanas, always have) with fat free organic yogurt and fresh fruit (often grapes, which are sultanas before they're dehydrated, go figure). But here, I struggle to find healthy muesli  without sultanas, so I get cruesli (crunchy clusters of toasted muesli which unfortunately seem to be held together by sugar). Now I've discovered an Albert Heijn cruesli that has cinnamon and apple and no sultanas. It's not particularly healthy, but it tastes like Speculaas! As my sister pointed out to me yesterday, I'm basically eating biscuits for breakfast. But as I retorted, they are biscuits very full of fibre and smothered in plain organic yogurt, so at least it's not Cheerios.

Anyway, what else did I eat today, besides leaves? Uhm. Lunch was scrambled eggs with chives on left over rolls, tasty. And dinner was leftover Andijviestamppot. And I also just finished my tiny bottle of Cherry Coke for dessert. So leftovers mostly, today. I am sure you're enthralled. I am contemplating some chocolate for after dessert dessert, though.

Did I tell you about the book I'm reading? It's Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey and it's brilliant. Go find it and read it.

Class dismissed.

We need men

Yesterday, I spent a good few hours on the roof. Clutching a rubber sweeper, I have been removing the moss from the roof tiles. It is not an easy job, and I haven't finished, but I should finish today. I have to cover the gutter with a ripped-open plastic bag to keep the moss from clogging it, and now there's a scattering of moss along the back of the house, which means I'm going to have to get the leaf blower out. I might as well blow some leaves while I'm at it.

But then, I also spend a good time yesterday with my sister Stella, talking and sharing music and even sorting through some old high school junk of hers and old photos. It was really nice. "Who was that?/ Oh my god, look at my hair/ how adorable/etc".
Then we donned out work gear and she sanded and painted the small garage door while I did my de-mossing. It was quite funny being up there, as the neighbour's cat was eying me suspiciously from on top of the rain barrel, and I could hear the neighbourhood kids bickering while trying to build a cubby somewhere in the shrubs behind our garden fence. The sun was out and I was quite warm, it was a pleasant morning.

Before long it was lunch time, and Mum came home with bags of rolls and croissants and even appelflappen (apple turnovers). One of the perks of running the tiny local shop is that whatever bread isn't sold, ends up at our house. One could see that as a curse as well, as I love bread and pastry and my waistline doesn't. Better keep up the Zumba classes, huh? De-mossing a roof is actually also quite a good workout, and it strengthens the core if you remember to brace it...

Stella and I joked that 'klussen' (fixing up the house) is our very favourite pastime and we love nothing more than putting on our work gear and getting all dusty and exhausted and sore. For those of you who don't know, the renovations back home in Australia have been the bane of my existence for about five and a half years now and I was quite pleased to be leaving them behind for a little while. Up on the roof I came to the sad conclusion that there is a serious lack of strong burly men in our family or circle of friends, so it's up to my sister and I to be doing all these jobs. The only man that we do have in our family, my brilliant architect + mr fix-it extraordinaire husband, is on the other side of the world and not coming to join us. Honey! Get over here! We need you!

It would be so good to know if we can knock out those walls in the apartment. This whole moving/fixing up the apartment is driving me crazy already because we can't start on the apartment until the house is sold, and we don't know when the house is going to be sold, so we don't know when or what to do what to the apartment. We're just focusing on getting this old house ready for sale.

And in the afternoon, while I was back up on the roof de-mossing, my dear friend Emily came out the back door. I finished my last row of roof tiles while she stood and we chatted, my sister painting. The three of us have known each other most of our lives, and both Emily and my sister live in Amsterdam and play soccer, so they always have plenty to chat about too. It was nice to have them here. I hopped off the ladder, hugged Em tightly and then organised afternoon tea: koffie met appelflappen, and the four of us sat at the table and enjoyed being together once more.

My sister left before dinner, and Emily and Mum and I spent the rest of the evening playing a board game (Carcassonne, Emily beat my arse big time, but there will be a rematch, there always is) and eating dinner and chatting. Mum went to bed early, and Em and I discussed our lives and the challenges we face. It was so good to have my friend over, it can get a bit noisy in my head and also seeing nobody else but Mum for a week can, despite the fact that I love her to the moon and back, get a bit much. Emily left last night with the promise of a chocolate fondue feast at her place soon, and some wicked dessert wine. Can't wait.

I made a date to go visit my travel buddy Mike in Dusseldorf soon, I met him last July on the flight home from Dusseldorf to Dubai, we sat next to each other on the plane and instantly became friends. And I also found out that while my sister is going snowboarding in a few weeks, I can use her apartment in Amsterdam, and her bike too. But then I realise that I might feel a bit lonely in Amsterdam in an apartment by myself, as I haven't spent any time alone anywhere for very long and everybody will just be working during the day. So I better start organising to catch up with my friends that week.

Ooh, coffee time. Gotta go.

Five of everything

Hello! Not going to be long today, I have more exciting things to do, such as eating dinner with my whole family (my mother and my sister and myself : ) ) as my sis is on her way here. I'm making a recipe that is a big hit in Australia with my other family (my husband) and I am perplexed that an Australian recipe for Italian chicken meatballs cannot be made in the Netherlands! The Dutch don't do chicken mince, simple as that. Oh well, beef is fine too. Hope it tastes alright.

Not been a very exciting day, I'm afraid. A lot of sorting through Mum's laundry room, which is where junk ends up if it needs to be out of the way quickly. It goes very slowly, clearing Mum's house, as it turns out she has five of everything. At least. And in the case of laundry liquid, most of the bottles were near empty, but there were five of each. And in Holland it's common to have separate liquids for whites, blacks and colours, and then there's fabric softener and also Oxi gel. Luckily it was washing day as well, so I just washed our clothes with combined dregs of whatever was left. Efficient, yes. That's me.

I fought a major battle with the mother regarding throwing stuff out. Sometimes I win, sometimes she wins. I told her she could keep 20 of her (1 million) jam jars, to put her jam in when she makes the next batch late this summer. She ended up sneaking another five in. This is how it goes. In the end we managed to get a carload of stuff to the the apartment, some of it to keep, some of it to give away. At least it's organised and out of the house. Still, it's only a tiny dent in an otherwise huge mountain of stuff to move, but it's something.

I'm drinking cherry coke right now. One of the many things that is not readily available in Australia. Yum. Really enjoying my meals at the moment, brown bread with cheese, crusty rolls with ham, potatoes, beans. Nothing spectacular, but just super tasty in my opinion. I love the Dutch cuisine. Oh, I'm going to try to upload some pictures of my dinner last night, Andijviestamppot met rookworst. (Endive bake with smoked sausage). See how it goes.

Bye!

dance for your life

For those of you who know me - I am a big fan of dance. I like watching it, I like doing it. In Australia, I recently joined the Zumba craze at my gym, as it is much more fun than just aerobics or those horrid treadmills. I do Zumba twice a week, body jam (dance work out) on Sundays and then keep my core strong with Pilates and Body Balance. I like to keep fit. But I only exercise so much because I love food so much.

So when I decided to go to Holland for so long, I knew I had to join a gym because normally when I come, I gain about a kilo a week. I generally come for five to six weeks. So there you go. This time, I am staying a minimum of four months, imagine how much weight I would gain if I just did what I normally do! Normally I say 'I am on holidays, I will eat whatever I like and worry about the weight when I get home'. Couldn't do that this time. So joining the gym is pertinent to my health. But it turns out, and this is not news to anyone, exercise is good for your brain too. I have to say that dancing makes me happy, it cheers me up. So having done two Zumba classes in the last two days, I feel pretty perky.

Granted, the Zumba here is pretty tame and lame compared to my awesome Zumba instructors and gym buddies back in Oz, but it's exercise and it's more fun that spending an hour on my mum's Orbitrek. (Which we're selling on ebay soon, anyone interested??)

This morning I rode my bike, too. Not very far, mind you, but it was very enjoyable. The little Dutch girl inside of me went 'weeeeheeeee!" I had to go to the greengrocer who sets up his stall next to the community center every Thursday to buy some veggies (Endive for Andijviestamppot, yum!) But thanks to good old carnaval, he wasn't there, but on holidays. There went my idyllic picture of riding my bike through this tiny town with my scarf flapping behind me, a basket of fresh-off-the-field veggies on the handlebars. So I rode to the general store where mum was stocking the shelves. And then she asked me to pick up a dry-cleaning order she left at home, so I rode home and returned it. All this took perhaps ten minutes. I could really have walked it. But I wanted to ride a bicycle. So I did!

I made coffee here for Mum and walked around the corner and joined her in the shop for our coffee break. It was funny walking down the street with two steaming mugs of coffee, bit tricky opening and closing doors, though. It was much appreciated, since the coffee at the shop it terrible and Mum owns a Nespresso machine. Unfortunately, George Clooney still hasn't shown up to steal the last capsule, but there's still hope. Now there's a man I wouldn't mind moving in with my Mum! Perhaps he could buy the house for us...and we'd live happily ever after!

Spent the rest of the morning trying to sort some of my high school/college stuff out, which took much longer than I had hoped. But once you open one of those boxes it's like opening a can of worms! I was confronted with what a sooky, mopey, depressing teenager I was and how I hard I made my own life by just not seeing how good I had it. It was fun though, seeing pictures and reading letters and diaries from when I was 17. That was a big year for me, changed my life. I owe a lot to the Vrije Hogeschool in Driebergen and the friends I had that year. It was an awesome/terrifying/horrible/beautiful year. That's where I learnt that the only way to make people like you more is by liking yourself, and that if there's something about yourself you don't like, you can change it. Spent a bit of time Googling my old classmates. Gotta love the internet for providing you with some voyeuristic pleasures. Anyway, those few boxes took up most of my day, in the end I felt I hadn't achieved much at all.

Did some shopping this afternoon, I love going to the Albert Heijn supermarket. It is the bomb when it comes to supermarkets. We bought the veggies I couldn't buy this morning. And then we went home to make dinner. Andijviestamppot. Awesome! Made a volcano like I used to as a kid, with the gravy in the middle. Delicious.

And then my second Zumba class. And then shower. And then blog. And now bed. Pray that this time, I will NOT wake up at 5 am. I want to sleep until 8. That is going to be my goal. Good night/good morning.