I have a three day weekend coming up so the past week or so I've been putting together plans for a little trip to Brussels. Even though I don't have to watch the children on Monday, I'm leaving Saturday morning and returning Sunday evening. It turned out that way simply because train tickets were cheaper at those times. Monday will most likely be another day in Amsterdam.
One of my mottos when it comes to trips like this: have a plan but don't stick to it. Leave room for a few whims and wanderings. When I planned my first trip on my own, without a tour group or school schedule, I researched and planned out every minute detail. But when I got to there (London) I quickly realized that I had much more fun if I just went along with how I was feeling. I had the hours and locations of what I wanted to see, so I just went along with my mood each day. I didn't get to see everything but I felt like if I rushed through with my perfectly organized itinerary I wouldn't have been present in all those places.
Since I know very little about Belgium aside from the fact that it is mainly characterized by good beer and chocolate, it has been slightly overwhelming trying to figure out what I am going to do while there. So far, I have filled a few pages in my small notebook for travel notes. Sections include places of interest such as museums, restaurants/cafes/pubs, and areas ideal for shopping. Really the only thing I am absolutely sure about is the flea market at the Marolles-Place du Jeu de Balle. We'll see what happens.
And so I've collected a few sites and links that I've found helpful for this sort of thing:
36 Hours In...
The New York Times has a running column outlining various things to do, see, and eat in cities throughout the world. There is even one for Athens, Georgia. I found this to be a nice place to start thinking about the possibilities available for a weekend in Brussels.
Accommodations
There are so many sites out there for finding a place to stay. This is usually the hard part of the planning process. Especially if you're on a budget. You want a clean bed in an acceptable location. Location is the first sacrifice to be made, which is fine as long as the hotel is in area connected to public transportation. These are the sites I prefer:
Venere
Booking
Hostel World
Discount Tourism Passes
Most major cities in Europe have cards that allow you free entrance to popular museums and discounts at participating resteraunts, attractions, and shops. However, I have found that the best part about these cards is that most tend to cover public transportation ticket fees as well. This is where it really proves it's worth, especially for larger cities where it is impossible to get around the city entirely on foot. Other possible bonuses include not having to wait in line for entrance to busy museums and a free map.
Amsterdam
Barcelona
Brussels
Dublin
Lisbon
London
Paris
Prague
Rome
Venice
Rick Steve's Europe Through the Back Door
This is the guy when it comes to travel tips and reviews. He has been at it since the 80's, has seen it all, and has written about nearly every crevice in Europe. He has his own TV show, radio show, and line of guide books. My Minnesotan readers would be happy to know that he is a good ol' Lutheran and an upstanding guy, even if a little corny at times. You can't help but like him.
Like-a-Local
I just discovered this site today so I still don't know that much about it. The idea behind it is excellent but I don't know how well it works in reality. Basically, you can search for locals offering to meet-up with tourists and give them a taste of their native surroundings. Depending on what you're looking for there are people offering an afternoon of vintage shopping, a home cooked meal, canal boat tours with the family, or morning coffee near the train station. The activities, durations, and prices vary city-to-city and when you've picked your friend for a day you proceed by making a reservation with them.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Ever since I put your picture in a frame
As you can imagine, I take many more photos than those that actually end up appearing on this blog. I created an account on Flickr which will host all my photos I take while here. I also plan on creating galleries for my photos from India, Italy, and all my other travels abroad.
My Flickr
I've placed a permanent link in the menu at the top of the page that will take you there as well. The only negative aspect to this is that since I'm not a paying member of Flickr I am limited to how many MB I can upload each month. So, I will update it as often as I am allowed. Keep checking it for updates.
I've placed a permanent link in the menu at the top of the page that will take you there as well. The only negative aspect to this is that since I'm not a paying member of Flickr I am limited to how many MB I can upload each month. So, I will update it as often as I am allowed. Keep checking it for updates.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Onto something good here
Bread with butter and sprinkles (hagelslag) is a common food in the Netherlands. I read about it before I came but figured it was probably one of those country trademarks. Maybe even a stereotype. But it is true. I make the children a boterham every day for lunch. Sometimes this just means bread, butter, and cheese. Or bread, butter, and ham. Or bread, butter, and Nutella. But most often it is bread, butter, and hagelslag. There are so many different kinds of sprinkles that I was astonished the first time I peeked down the aisle in the supermarket. My host parents buy just two boxes: one of chocolade hagelslag and one of fruit hagelslag.
For the first few weeks I held off from trying either. To me that is dessert, not a midday meal. But last week I gave in. It is too good not to eat, though I've been good so far about not having one every day.
Hagelslag boterham and yoki drink, which I've only seen here in the Netherlands.
The only real problem is that sprinkles are messy. They end up all over the kitchen table and on the floor. I feel like I'm always sweeping. They also stick to the children and I find rogue sprinkles in the bathroom, on the couch, and even in the bath after it has been drained. Regardless, I would never think to deprive them of this easy to make Dutch delicacy. Why couldn't I have grown up eating sprinkle sandwiches?
For the first few weeks I held off from trying either. To me that is dessert, not a midday meal. But last week I gave in. It is too good not to eat, though I've been good so far about not having one every day.
Hagelslag boterham and yoki drink, which I've only seen here in the Netherlands.
The only real problem is that sprinkles are messy. They end up all over the kitchen table and on the floor. I feel like I'm always sweeping. They also stick to the children and I find rogue sprinkles in the bathroom, on the couch, and even in the bath after it has been drained. Regardless, I would never think to deprive them of this easy to make Dutch delicacy. Why couldn't I have grown up eating sprinkle sandwiches?
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Adventure in Amsterdam - 07.17.2010
All week I considered going to Amsterdam again on Saturday. When Friday night finally came around and I checked the weather predictions it did look good. But again, there is always room for the unexpected. This time that was even more true than last weekend. I left my dresses hanging in the closet and decided on more sensible attire for the possibility of rain. I brought along my new light raincoat and borrowed an umbrella from my host parents. I waited for a break in the clouds then set off on my bike for the station. I arrived dry, without getting lost, and just in time to catch the train just after noon.
From Centraal station I went straight to the used bookstore featured in my Netherlands book. I had the books the previous au pair left behind with the hope that I could sell them and pick up some other, better books. The owner, however, did not want them because "they are too weak." I could have spent hours inside the little shop, examining every shelf. The entire place (main floor, upper level, bottom level, and cellar) is crammed with books. I went the safe route and found authors I've already read and know I like. Then, I found the sci-fi and fantasy section and descended upon Ursula K. Le Guin as well. Just the first three of the Earthsea series. Hopefully, these will last me a bit longer than a month. I didn't catch his name but the owner was very talkative. One of those people who likes to tell stories and talk about anything and everything. The kind of person you instantly like and hope to meet again and again. When I showed him my ID he was immediately disappointed that I don't have a Southern accent. Sorry, Georgia, I can't take you anywhere now can I? He is originally from Indiana and was a line backer in Nashville during college. When I asked how long he's been in Amsterdam he simply answered, "forever."
Next, I tried to make my way towards the Van Gogh Museum but I somehow ended up going in the slightly wrong direction. I turned to go back the way I came and take a different street but I had to stop for a little detour. And when I say stop I literally mean I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this:
An exhibit on the major ports of the Roman Empire at the Allard Pierson Museum. Of course I had to go in. Maybe it was destiny, that strange force that accompanies adventures even when they make a wrong turn. In the middle of what turned out to be a sunny day in Amsterdam I got to see artifacts from Egypt, Cyprus, Mycenae, Rome, and my beloved Etruria. I tested my left-over knowledge from the Etruscan course I took in Florence by mentally identifying bucchero, Villanovan burial urns, and other random pieces. My heart was swollen by the time I finally went back out into the sunlit streets because my love of ancient history was reignited. It was a nice reminder that I don't have to be in school or in Italy to study my passion. And that even though I've graduated those centuries will always be part of me.
The flower market, Bloemenmarkt, along Singel canal.
Houses along the Singelgracht canal across from Rijksmuseum.
When I made it to the Van Gogh Museum there was a line. Fortunately, it was still early enough that I only had to wait about 20 minutes compared to the average 45 minutes. Unfortunately, it was packed full of people. I have a post in draft form about Van Gogh because he is one of my favorites, so I won't write too much about him. I will spend a few sentences talking about the museum. Would it be awful if I said it wasn't anything spectacular? It was just too crowded. All the bodies made it hot and stuffy. There were crying children and clusters of people in front of every painting. No matter how patient or pushy I was I didn't get a good or long enough look at any of the paintings. Still, my heart swelled up a bit more at being near all the yellow, blue, and orange.
The entrance to the museum looking up.
The entrance to the museum looking left.
One of the paintings on loan was "Buddha in His Youth" by Odilon Redon, a French symbolist painter whose works are usually described as mysterious and inspiring. I had never heard of him before and I had another unexpected moment standing in front of this particular painting. Which, by the way, is absolutely massive in person. And even more inspiring than I think I could ever describe. Especially to me, especially at this point in my life, but that is another story for another time.
"Buddha in His Youth" by Odilon Redon, 1904.
I hadn't eaten since breakfast. By the time I was done with the museum and my mind had reached its fill of books, art, and reading maps I realized I was starving. I devoured a ham and cheese sandwich from an outdoor cafe with the I Amsterdam letters in view. I wanted some stranger to take a picture of me on the 'e' but that is the most popular letter for people to climb up for some reason. I didn't want to wait. Next time, on another adventure in the city.
There is so much to see but I'm pacing myself. I figured that was enough for one day and so I wandered until it was time to get on the train again. I bought a reusable bag of woven plastic to carry my goods for the day and future excursions. I bought a pale yellow cardigan at H&M - the kind that when you wear it you feel warm, fuzzy, and happy. Some plastic headbands for keeping my overgrown bangs out of my face while playing with the children. And a few other random small things, including another jar of peanut butter. In a larger jar this time. Before heading back I bought some ice cream and watched some street performers in different colored jump suits play trumpets near the Palace.
There were so many small encounters and interactions that I can't really even remember them all. I like being asked for directions when I'm in a city I don't even know that well myself. Some woman asked me how to get to the Van Gogh Museum not too long after I'd left. I had to laugh to myself because it took me awhile to get in the right direction. If only I could time travel and ask my future self so I could go back and get there on my own more easily. I think about silly things like that. And I'll be thinking of Amsterdam until I go back.
From Centraal station I went straight to the used bookstore featured in my Netherlands book. I had the books the previous au pair left behind with the hope that I could sell them and pick up some other, better books. The owner, however, did not want them because "they are too weak." I could have spent hours inside the little shop, examining every shelf. The entire place (main floor, upper level, bottom level, and cellar) is crammed with books. I went the safe route and found authors I've already read and know I like. Then, I found the sci-fi and fantasy section and descended upon Ursula K. Le Guin as well. Just the first three of the Earthsea series. Hopefully, these will last me a bit longer than a month. I didn't catch his name but the owner was very talkative. One of those people who likes to tell stories and talk about anything and everything. The kind of person you instantly like and hope to meet again and again. When I showed him my ID he was immediately disappointed that I don't have a Southern accent. Sorry, Georgia, I can't take you anywhere now can I? He is originally from Indiana and was a line backer in Nashville during college. When I asked how long he's been in Amsterdam he simply answered, "forever."
Next, I tried to make my way towards the Van Gogh Museum but I somehow ended up going in the slightly wrong direction. I turned to go back the way I came and take a different street but I had to stop for a little detour. And when I say stop I literally mean I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this:
An exhibit on the major ports of the Roman Empire at the Allard Pierson Museum. Of course I had to go in. Maybe it was destiny, that strange force that accompanies adventures even when they make a wrong turn. In the middle of what turned out to be a sunny day in Amsterdam I got to see artifacts from Egypt, Cyprus, Mycenae, Rome, and my beloved Etruria. I tested my left-over knowledge from the Etruscan course I took in Florence by mentally identifying bucchero, Villanovan burial urns, and other random pieces. My heart was swollen by the time I finally went back out into the sunlit streets because my love of ancient history was reignited. It was a nice reminder that I don't have to be in school or in Italy to study my passion. And that even though I've graduated those centuries will always be part of me.
The flower market, Bloemenmarkt, along Singel canal.
Houses along the Singelgracht canal across from Rijksmuseum.
When I made it to the Van Gogh Museum there was a line. Fortunately, it was still early enough that I only had to wait about 20 minutes compared to the average 45 minutes. Unfortunately, it was packed full of people. I have a post in draft form about Van Gogh because he is one of my favorites, so I won't write too much about him. I will spend a few sentences talking about the museum. Would it be awful if I said it wasn't anything spectacular? It was just too crowded. All the bodies made it hot and stuffy. There were crying children and clusters of people in front of every painting. No matter how patient or pushy I was I didn't get a good or long enough look at any of the paintings. Still, my heart swelled up a bit more at being near all the yellow, blue, and orange.
The entrance to the museum looking up.
The entrance to the museum looking left.
One of the paintings on loan was "Buddha in His Youth" by Odilon Redon, a French symbolist painter whose works are usually described as mysterious and inspiring. I had never heard of him before and I had another unexpected moment standing in front of this particular painting. Which, by the way, is absolutely massive in person. And even more inspiring than I think I could ever describe. Especially to me, especially at this point in my life, but that is another story for another time.
"Buddha in His Youth" by Odilon Redon, 1904.
I hadn't eaten since breakfast. By the time I was done with the museum and my mind had reached its fill of books, art, and reading maps I realized I was starving. I devoured a ham and cheese sandwich from an outdoor cafe with the I Amsterdam letters in view. I wanted some stranger to take a picture of me on the 'e' but that is the most popular letter for people to climb up for some reason. I didn't want to wait. Next time, on another adventure in the city.
There is so much to see but I'm pacing myself. I figured that was enough for one day and so I wandered until it was time to get on the train again. I bought a reusable bag of woven plastic to carry my goods for the day and future excursions. I bought a pale yellow cardigan at H&M - the kind that when you wear it you feel warm, fuzzy, and happy. Some plastic headbands for keeping my overgrown bangs out of my face while playing with the children. And a few other random small things, including another jar of peanut butter. In a larger jar this time. Before heading back I bought some ice cream and watched some street performers in different colored jump suits play trumpets near the Palace.
There were so many small encounters and interactions that I can't really even remember them all. I like being asked for directions when I'm in a city I don't even know that well myself. Some woman asked me how to get to the Van Gogh Museum not too long after I'd left. I had to laugh to myself because it took me awhile to get in the right direction. If only I could time travel and ask my future self so I could go back and get there on my own more easily. I think about silly things like that. And I'll be thinking of Amsterdam until I go back.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Adventure in Amsterdam - 07.10.2010
Here is the thing about adventures - they always involve risk and danger. Adventures aren't planned out. You don't make reservations for adventures. Leave a deposit or sign a contract. Adventures just happen and they're always subject to the elements. There's always a dragon to slay, a code to crack, a wizard to trick. Even if you have a map marked with an 'X' and the promise of treasure at the end. Yesterday, my first adventure in Amsterdam on my own, included all those things. Metaphorically speaking.
I packed a bag with the necessary tools and "weapons" for my quest (camera, notebooks, travel guide, wallet, maps). I strapped on my armor (a new dress and favorite thrifted belt).
Then, I set off on my pacing steed. My host father told me to just follow the bike path and ran his finger along the map to show me how to get to the station. But sometimes following directions doesn't always work out. I am usually a very good navigator. My internal compass is excellent. But I got lost. I mean, I wasn't lost in the sense that I had no idea where I was. I knew my location on the map. But lost as in I couldn't find the right place to turn. I don't know how many times I thought "oh, it must be this direction" or had to turn around but I finally got to the right side of the canal and to the station. I figured out the ticket kiosk and paid my fare in coins because it didn't read my debit card. I instictively guessed which side of the tracks I should be on and waited for the trip to really begin.
The other thing about adventures is that even if you're a lonely traveler you always meet people along the way. The first such encounter for me was at the station. A woman joined me on the platform and asked (first in Dutch then English) if this was the side for service to Amsterdam. I said I wasn't sure but I thought so. We boarded the train and it was the right one. Until it reached the end of the line and the only two people left, me and a woman in purple, were told to get off. The woman in purple seemed just as confused as me and she approached the attendant. I assumed she was trying to get to Amsterdam Centraal as well, so I followed her when she changed over to another platform and another train.
Finally, I made it to the city. I was thirsty, sticky with sweat from the heat on the stuffy train cars, and my legs were already sore from bicycling. Before I left the house I hadn't done much preparation. I had a few places in mind, a vintage store and a book exchange, but knew that in the few hours I had it was probably just best to explore. So, I set off in the general direction of the Nine Streets. When I reached the Homomonument and saw a sign pointing towards Anne Frank's house I paused for a drink on a bench outside Westermarkt.
Homomonument.
Westermarkt.
I consulted my maps then set off for the vintage store, Lady Day. I got there as it was preparing to close so I was not able to thoroughly inspect the racks, but I spent 15€ on a skirt and blouse. I marked it on my map with an 'X' to return next time. Here be treasure. Floral prints, tarnished buttons, musty air, and old leather pocketbooks.
I wandered some more then pushed my way into a busy Albert Heijn (supermarket chain) because I was thirsty again. When traveling it is always cheaper to buy food at a grocery store than a cafe or restauraunt. I've made it a rule for myself to only eat once a day at a sit down place and picnic in a park or on a bench for other meals. For my afternoon snack I enjoyed some peanut butter on the steps of the Magna Plaza shopping center. This is when I encountered another adventurer - a Swedish girl with decaying red lipstick and a belted dress similar to mine. She asked me for directions. Once again the guide book map was consulted (it proved unhelpful for this particular situation) and again we fellow adventurers went off on our ways.
Pardon me for shaming the wonderful array of cuisine and delicious dining in Amsterdam, but I had dinner at McDonald's. I was worried about getting back to Purmerend at a decent time so I wouldn't have to bike back to Middelie in the dark. There were no other establishments in my direct vicinity at the time promising fast food. So, I gave in and didn't even bother finishing my fries.
Singel Canal, part of Nine Streets.
I made sure to utilize the helpful information desk at the station to see which trains and transfers I needed to get back. (7a to Zaandam then switch to 1 toward Hoorn.) Therefore, I made it in less than half the time it took me to get there. On my bike this time I knew exactly where I was going. The embarrassing but quick dinner at McDonald's turned out to be a good idea because I made it to the house just before it started storming.
The jar of peanut butter is still mostly full and sitting on my nightstand. Despite a hotter-than-normal shower my leg muscles still feel like stone. My iPod battery is low. The stretch of skin between my shoulder blades is tender with sunburn. There are blisters on only one foot. I got lost. I wandered. I was always thirsty. But Amsterdam was definitely a worthy adventure.
I packed a bag with the necessary tools and "weapons" for my quest (camera, notebooks, travel guide, wallet, maps). I strapped on my armor (a new dress and favorite thrifted belt).
Then, I set off on my pacing steed. My host father told me to just follow the bike path and ran his finger along the map to show me how to get to the station. But sometimes following directions doesn't always work out. I am usually a very good navigator. My internal compass is excellent. But I got lost. I mean, I wasn't lost in the sense that I had no idea where I was. I knew my location on the map. But lost as in I couldn't find the right place to turn. I don't know how many times I thought "oh, it must be this direction" or had to turn around but I finally got to the right side of the canal and to the station. I figured out the ticket kiosk and paid my fare in coins because it didn't read my debit card. I instictively guessed which side of the tracks I should be on and waited for the trip to really begin.
The other thing about adventures is that even if you're a lonely traveler you always meet people along the way. The first such encounter for me was at the station. A woman joined me on the platform and asked (first in Dutch then English) if this was the side for service to Amsterdam. I said I wasn't sure but I thought so. We boarded the train and it was the right one. Until it reached the end of the line and the only two people left, me and a woman in purple, were told to get off. The woman in purple seemed just as confused as me and she approached the attendant. I assumed she was trying to get to Amsterdam Centraal as well, so I followed her when she changed over to another platform and another train.
Finally, I made it to the city. I was thirsty, sticky with sweat from the heat on the stuffy train cars, and my legs were already sore from bicycling. Before I left the house I hadn't done much preparation. I had a few places in mind, a vintage store and a book exchange, but knew that in the few hours I had it was probably just best to explore. So, I set off in the general direction of the Nine Streets. When I reached the Homomonument and saw a sign pointing towards Anne Frank's house I paused for a drink on a bench outside Westermarkt.
Homomonument.
Westermarkt.
I consulted my maps then set off for the vintage store, Lady Day. I got there as it was preparing to close so I was not able to thoroughly inspect the racks, but I spent 15€ on a skirt and blouse. I marked it on my map with an 'X' to return next time. Here be treasure. Floral prints, tarnished buttons, musty air, and old leather pocketbooks.
I wandered some more then pushed my way into a busy Albert Heijn (supermarket chain) because I was thirsty again. When traveling it is always cheaper to buy food at a grocery store than a cafe or restauraunt. I've made it a rule for myself to only eat once a day at a sit down place and picnic in a park or on a bench for other meals. For my afternoon snack I enjoyed some peanut butter on the steps of the Magna Plaza shopping center. This is when I encountered another adventurer - a Swedish girl with decaying red lipstick and a belted dress similar to mine. She asked me for directions. Once again the guide book map was consulted (it proved unhelpful for this particular situation) and again we fellow adventurers went off on our ways.
Pardon me for shaming the wonderful array of cuisine and delicious dining in Amsterdam, but I had dinner at McDonald's. I was worried about getting back to Purmerend at a decent time so I wouldn't have to bike back to Middelie in the dark. There were no other establishments in my direct vicinity at the time promising fast food. So, I gave in and didn't even bother finishing my fries.
Singel Canal, part of Nine Streets.
I made sure to utilize the helpful information desk at the station to see which trains and transfers I needed to get back. (7a to Zaandam then switch to 1 toward Hoorn.) Therefore, I made it in less than half the time it took me to get there. On my bike this time I knew exactly where I was going. The embarrassing but quick dinner at McDonald's turned out to be a good idea because I made it to the house just before it started storming.
The jar of peanut butter is still mostly full and sitting on my nightstand. Despite a hotter-than-normal shower my leg muscles still feel like stone. My iPod battery is low. The stretch of skin between my shoulder blades is tender with sunburn. There are blisters on only one foot. I got lost. I wandered. I was always thirsty. But Amsterdam was definitely a worthy adventure.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
An Adventure in Edam
At last, I have something to write about that doesn't involve the children or my secret homesickness. Yesterday, I went into Edam to explore on my own. My bike route turns through a corner of the town's residential outskirts but I really had no idea how to get to the city center by bike. The map in my Netherlands book and the ones I found on the internet were not helpful. I figured the only way I could get there was if I just swallowed my pride and accepted the task of looking like a lost tourist for the afternoon. So, I rode to the corner at the end of the bike path and just kept going instead of turning around.
I followed the signs for Noord-Edam and just continued in that general direction. I crossed a busy round about, concentrating on not hitting a patch of gravel or being hit by a car. Then the pavement changed to uneven, stone streets. I passed a group of people around my age speaking English to each other with British accents. At least I knew I wouldn't be the only one not speaking Dutch. Then I found myself in the square my host family showed me when they took me by car. At the time the square had been filled with people dressed in orange for the World Cup and dancing to a live band, not empty in the Saturday sun. I really only recognized it because there is a gelato shop on one end which I noticed last time. (I always mentally mark the location of any gelato shop I come across.) From there I made it to the main street and parked my bike by a souvenir shop.
The first thing I did was buy postcards and stamps. I stepped in and out of various shops, not really intent on anything but looking casually. Just that little bit of freedom was pleasant. Refreshing, I guess you could even say, after about three weeks of routines and unfamiliarity. To be entirely honest though, it was a bit dull to be by myself. I think visiting a town like Edam by oneself can be dull because it is so small and quaint - the type of place where you have to turn to your companion and comment on the sweets shop or the tilted angle of the old buildings along the canal. In a city, like Florence for example, it isn't so noticeable that you're alone. There's so many people that even you don't notice. I still can't really explain the difference or why I felt the heaviness of solitude in such a way. Me, so independent, feel that way? Yes. Further proof of how much things have changed in my life and how I've even changed these past few months.
The humidity had me very sticky and uncomfortable so I went into a bakery for some ice cream. There was a British couple ahead of me at the counter making their order awkwardly and paying awkwardly. With two scoops (cookie and panna cotta) on a cone, I perched myself at one of the tiny tables under the awning outside. A middle aged woman made some comment to me in Dutch. I did not have the slightest idea what she said but I was almost certain it was a question so I smiled, nodded, and replied "ya" with gentle enthusiasm. I assume she had simply remarked about the day. "Nice weather we are having, isn't it?" Or about my melting treat. "Well, doesn't that look delicious?"
However, the sunny weather broke not long after. Rain had been predicted so I finished my ice cream, crunched on the cone on my way to the information stall about the cheese market, for which Edam is most known. There I encountered another British couple who were asking about how and where they should park their care. I was reminded of my bike and the impending storm so I tasted the sample cheese quickly then set off back to Middelie.
The clouds, which had come in suddenly at first, slowed as soon as I was almost back to the house. Exhilarated from my first little, lonely adventure I decided to go for an extra loop on the bike path. The wind really picked up and when I pulled into the driveway I was exhausted from having to pedal against it on all the longest stretches. The rain started just as I got my keys for the front door out of my bag. The house was empty and grey, my host family gone on some errand, so the rain echoed loudly through the open windows.
I took a brief shower and laid atop my barely made bed, still buzzing from pedaling so fast and slightly sick from the earlier anxiety about getting lost, being alone, and eating ice cream in the heat. I need to prepare myself for Amsterdam if a trip just over the way to Edam was so exhausting.
I followed the signs for Noord-Edam and just continued in that general direction. I crossed a busy round about, concentrating on not hitting a patch of gravel or being hit by a car. Then the pavement changed to uneven, stone streets. I passed a group of people around my age speaking English to each other with British accents. At least I knew I wouldn't be the only one not speaking Dutch. Then I found myself in the square my host family showed me when they took me by car. At the time the square had been filled with people dressed in orange for the World Cup and dancing to a live band, not empty in the Saturday sun. I really only recognized it because there is a gelato shop on one end which I noticed last time. (I always mentally mark the location of any gelato shop I come across.) From there I made it to the main street and parked my bike by a souvenir shop.
The first thing I did was buy postcards and stamps. I stepped in and out of various shops, not really intent on anything but looking casually. Just that little bit of freedom was pleasant. Refreshing, I guess you could even say, after about three weeks of routines and unfamiliarity. To be entirely honest though, it was a bit dull to be by myself. I think visiting a town like Edam by oneself can be dull because it is so small and quaint - the type of place where you have to turn to your companion and comment on the sweets shop or the tilted angle of the old buildings along the canal. In a city, like Florence for example, it isn't so noticeable that you're alone. There's so many people that even you don't notice. I still can't really explain the difference or why I felt the heaviness of solitude in such a way. Me, so independent, feel that way? Yes. Further proof of how much things have changed in my life and how I've even changed these past few months.
The humidity had me very sticky and uncomfortable so I went into a bakery for some ice cream. There was a British couple ahead of me at the counter making their order awkwardly and paying awkwardly. With two scoops (cookie and panna cotta) on a cone, I perched myself at one of the tiny tables under the awning outside. A middle aged woman made some comment to me in Dutch. I did not have the slightest idea what she said but I was almost certain it was a question so I smiled, nodded, and replied "ya" with gentle enthusiasm. I assume she had simply remarked about the day. "Nice weather we are having, isn't it?" Or about my melting treat. "Well, doesn't that look delicious?"
However, the sunny weather broke not long after. Rain had been predicted so I finished my ice cream, crunched on the cone on my way to the information stall about the cheese market, for which Edam is most known. There I encountered another British couple who were asking about how and where they should park their care. I was reminded of my bike and the impending storm so I tasted the sample cheese quickly then set off back to Middelie.
The clouds, which had come in suddenly at first, slowed as soon as I was almost back to the house. Exhilarated from my first little, lonely adventure I decided to go for an extra loop on the bike path. The wind really picked up and when I pulled into the driveway I was exhausted from having to pedal against it on all the longest stretches. The rain started just as I got my keys for the front door out of my bag. The house was empty and grey, my host family gone on some errand, so the rain echoed loudly through the open windows.
I took a brief shower and laid atop my barely made bed, still buzzing from pedaling so fast and slightly sick from the earlier anxiety about getting lost, being alone, and eating ice cream in the heat. I need to prepare myself for Amsterdam if a trip just over the way to Edam was so exhausting.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
My pacing steed
There are no grand adventures for me to report just yet. So far, only quiet ones set in the countryside. I've taken up a truly Dutch habit - bike riding.
I have gone on a thirty minute route, which circuits the pastures surrounding the village and turns me back again in a corner of Edam, about every other day for a week now. The path takes me through quaint scenery and clouds of gnats. My favorite stretch is when the setting sun is first to my right then, as I take a curve, falls to my back. First my shadow speeds along on the pasture below, moving alongside me like we're racing, then shifts in front so it seems I am chasing myself. I also like wearing my light, black sweater and leaving the buttons undone so when I go fast enough it explodes behind me in the wind like ferocious black wings.
The weather has been pleasant. Warm and sunny. It truly feels like summer and I only realize how much sun I've been getting when I look at the skin on top of my feet, my wrists, or the freckles stretching across the bridge of my nose and cheeks.
After having such a busy life during May and June because of school, graduation, and preparation for Holland it is nice to finally nestle myself into days that pass slowly and steadily. Even if the children are badly behaved one moment than painfully adorable the next.
Not only am I finally starting to settle (if ever a soul like mine can consider itself settled) but I am at last finding things that I like here. Right now, they're mostly small moments or scenes. Like seeing the reflection of the red sun in the bathroom mirror when I brush my teeth before bed (the sun sets after 10pm here). Or watching American television shows with Dutch subtitles.
I have a nice, quiet little life here. Maybe this is also part of what it means to be Dutch.
I have gone on a thirty minute route, which circuits the pastures surrounding the village and turns me back again in a corner of Edam, about every other day for a week now. The path takes me through quaint scenery and clouds of gnats. My favorite stretch is when the setting sun is first to my right then, as I take a curve, falls to my back. First my shadow speeds along on the pasture below, moving alongside me like we're racing, then shifts in front so it seems I am chasing myself. I also like wearing my light, black sweater and leaving the buttons undone so when I go fast enough it explodes behind me in the wind like ferocious black wings.
The weather has been pleasant. Warm and sunny. It truly feels like summer and I only realize how much sun I've been getting when I look at the skin on top of my feet, my wrists, or the freckles stretching across the bridge of my nose and cheeks.
After having such a busy life during May and June because of school, graduation, and preparation for Holland it is nice to finally nestle myself into days that pass slowly and steadily. Even if the children are badly behaved one moment than painfully adorable the next.
Not only am I finally starting to settle (if ever a soul like mine can consider itself settled) but I am at last finding things that I like here. Right now, they're mostly small moments or scenes. Like seeing the reflection of the red sun in the bathroom mirror when I brush my teeth before bed (the sun sets after 10pm here). Or watching American television shows with Dutch subtitles.
I have a nice, quiet little life here. Maybe this is also part of what it means to be Dutch.
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