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This was a very brief adventure to Amsterdam. It started snowing in the morning but I hopped on my bike, determined to brave the cold and get into the city. I had plans to meet with a friend and go shopping. I scouted some souvenirs to bring back for friends and family. I wanted to get an idea what to get each person and see the prices. A new H&M store opened in Dam Square so I popped in and bought myself a scarf. At the check-out I also received a booklet of coupons and a little OV-chipkaart holder that I'm using for my ID and debit card. When I stepped out of the store I heard music blaring, which isn't unusual in Dam Square. Then I noticed a big crowd so I pushed my way to the front and saw people dancing. I witnessed my first ever flashmob in person.
So, I missed the beginning which is the fun part. Everyone is just standing around and then out of nowhere comes music. The passersby are confused at first. A few people come together and start dancing. The dancers grow and grow until it is a mass of synchronized bodies. A crowd gathers. People take out their phones and cameras. At the end of the song the dancers disperse, back into the crowd and life carries on. I wondered when I'd see one in Amsterdam. I mentioned the Stockholm flash mob once before in this post. Here are some other great flash mobs:
Last night I had a strange dream. A mysterious guy gave me a ride to the train station in a big black SUV with tinted windows. I think he was my bodyguard. My brother, Seth, was waiting there for me. When we got into Amsterdam we got on the wrong tram and had to get off and walk in the opposite direction. Justin Bieber joined us and we made our way towards Rembrandtplein to check in to Hotel Atlanta, which I discovered last weekend. Then I woke up. The clock said 8:10. Why was I up that early on a Saturday? I checked the weather online to make sure it wouldn't snow but I couldn't get back to sleep. Justin Bieber was in my dream. Weird. But not so weird because my other brother, Owen, has hair that looks exactly like that of the teeny bopper icon, except it is not as well conditioned.
I believe this dream has to do with a recent event - I know when I'll be going home. I'll be leaving Holland on December 23rd and arriving in Atlanta late that night. It won't be fun getting crammed in so close to Christmas, especially when my family's plans for the holiday include traveling. The night I booked the flight, Seth and I had a real heart-to-heart on Skype. We ganged up on Owen, telling him to cut his hair or forever face the embarrassment of looking back at his middle school portraits with regret.
Now it is 9:37am. The canal behind the house is frozen. I need to buy some boots. I need to start buying Christmas presents. I have only 3 1/2 weeks left here. Maybe I should get out of bed.
During my four years of college I often escaped to my Grandma Helen's condo in Edina on the weekends when I needed a break from school. It is only a fifty minute drive so I'd pack a little bag and drive off campus blasting good music, ready to get away and relax for a few days. She's lived in the same condo my whole life so it was always the perfect home away from home. We'd go out to dinner or I'd cook. Sometimes we'd catch a movie after my afternoon walk/jog around Lake Harriet, but mostly I'd just sit around watching TV. If I felt up to it I'd actually do some schoolwork. When I was working on my honor's thesis senior year I used her card to check out books from the Hennepin County Library and spread out on the table she uses for her jigsaw puzzles. She got me started on crosswords and we'd always go to bed late because we'd stay up talking. Now that I'm in Holland we write letters to each other. I call her with my Skype credit every once in awhile. Hopefully, this year my family and I will make it to her place for Christmas but either way I still miss her a lot.
Christmas with the cousins on my dad's side of the family at Grandma Helen's. I'm assuming this picture was taken before Owen was born in 1998. From left to right: Andrew, Seth (in the headlock), Colin in Grandma's lap, and me.
Sometime in October of last year, during one of my weekend sleepovers, I mentioned how I hadn't spent Thanksgiving with my family in Georgia since they moved there. The year before I stayed with my Grandma Sue and had Thanksgiving with my cousins at their other grandparent's house. So, Grandma Helen suggested I fly home and surprise my family. She booked me a flight and I only told my dad and Seth. They picked me up from the airport late at night and around midnight I walked into the house. My mother was in the kitchen heating up some food for the boys and when she saw me she almost collapsed. She immediately started crying after she recovered from the shock. My youngest brother, Owen, was asleep on the couch and I tried to wake him up but he thought he was dreaming when he saw me hovering over him. Usually, Thanksgiving is a tense time for my family because everyone gets stressed out. My mom gets stuck with all the cooking and by the time we sit down to eat none of us feel very grateful. But after we say grace we take turns going around the table saying at least one thing we're thankful for. One year my dad said indoor plumbing and another year he said MTV. But last year was perfect because we were all thankful for the same thing - that we were all together.
This year I have so much to be thankful for. I also have a different appreciation for Thanksgiving because I understand better what it is like to move to a foreign land and try to build a life. Granted the obstacles I've had to face here in Holland were very different than those the first settlers in America had to overcome, but I still feel a connection. Even more so now that I know the story of my ancestors who immigrated from Sweden. I've seen what they left and I grew up in the legacy they built in the Land of Freedom. I don't have plans to celebrate today but tonight I'm going to try to watch the live stream of the Thanksgiving Day Parade online. Then I'll turn on some Christmas music because it is a bit of a tradition in my family to turn it on as soon as we finish eating. No one wants to do the dishes but at least with Christmas on our minds already we get excited for the rest of winter to pass until we can all be together (and stressed out) again.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1
My main priority this weekend was to see this movie. On Friday night I stayed in Heemstede with my friends and we planned on getting up somewhat early on Saturday to get into Amsterdam to buy tickets for the 5:30pm showing but it is tricky to coordinate everyone. So, just me and two of my friends left around noon to buy the tickets for ourselves and two of the other girls who stayed behind and said they'd meet us later. By the time we got to the cinema all the showings were already sold out. That left us with a lot of time to kill so we ended up exploring some familiar and unfamiliar areas instead. Every time I'd see an advertisement for the movie my heart would break a little bit with disappointment.
However, on Sunday I got up early and went straight back to the cinema by myself in an attempt to get a ticket. At the counter I asked the guy for one ticket to the next showing that isn't sold out. In a burst of good luck he told me that there were two tickets for the 12:15pm showing that someone had left at the counter. It was 12:13pm but I paid and made it up the escalators just in time. I really was very lucky also because my seat assignment was perfect - near the front and in the middle of the row. "I am seeing Harry Potter in Amsterdam," I kept repeating in my head during the previews but once the screen went completely dark and the theme music began to echo a silence came over the whole crowd and I forgot everything. I was in complete awe the entire time. My love for Harry Potter is very deep and I'm not ashamed to say that some tears were shed during those two-and-a-half hours. I'm definitely going to see it again at least once more but I'll probably wait until I'm back in the States so I can go with my younger brother, Owen.
Albert Cuypstrat Market
This is one of the best known and cheapest outdoor markets in Amsterdam. It has stands for everything from food to small electronic items. We passed by it on the tram and we all looked at each other in unison then in an instant decided to jump out on the next stop. We walked through it from beginning to end, stopping to look at jewelry and shoes. Martina and I took advantage of a three hats for 5 euro deal. I picked out two and she picked out one and we split the cost. Estefania bought two purses and at the end we all caved in a ordered some french fries (Vlaamse frites).
Winterland at Rembrandtplein
The second thing we had planned for the day was to go ice skating. We met another group of au pairs, all from Germany, later in the evening at Winterland. It is a little Christmas village with stands for food, some carnival games, and a lot of holiday themed decorations. The rink was small and the ice needed a good cleaning but it was fun to get on the ice and play around for an hour or so. It also made me realize just how long I've been here. Long enough to see the seasons change from days when I'd ride my bike in shorts and a tank top to days when I'd bundle up and make sure I'd arrive at the train station at the last possible moment so I don't have to wait in the cold.
I have a best friend named Brandy. We've been friends for something like ten years. Our story is a long one but it is amazing. I won't share it with you now but you'll just have to trust me on that last point. I've posted about her before on my other blog but she asked me why I haven't mentioned her on this blog yet. That is a fair question. I have her listed in the Cast of Characters but that is not enough. Especially since she has been a huge part of my life abroad. Also, the word "friend" is not enough. We're sisters, not by blood but by love.
Brandy has a summer birthday. I was born in the winter. Brandy is an artist. I like to write. Brandy lives in Kansas City with her fiancé. I'm in the Netherlands taking care of two adorable Dutch children. The list goes on. We couldn't be more different but that is why we're so close. We compliment each other in every way. She is the only person with whom I can spend significant amounts of time without loosing my mind. I mean, we do drive each other crazy at times but even our craziness is complimentary.
Of course, our friendship isn't perfect. After high school we took separate paths. I moved out-of-state for college and she started classes at the Kansas City Art Institute. The last time we saw each other in person was New Years 2007. The years following we slowly stopped talking to each other. We'd forget to return phone calls or just didn't have the time to keep the other updated. We were living completely different lives.
But then I think we grew up enough to realize that we had no real excuse for neglecting such a wonderful connection. When her boyfriend proposed she called me and told me the whole story. I think that was the catalyst for us to reconnect. And then she found an old notebook we used to write in to each other back in high school. She mailed it to me a few days before my graduation. We decided that it was time to get back into the swing of being "us" again. Then, when I arrived in the Netherlands, we started Skyping. With all the changes and challenges in each of our lives, our almost daily conversations have become a saving grace.
One night we spent hours going through poems by our favorite poet, trying to find the perfect line to use as a title for a blog we wanted to create together. The idea came when I complained about having to write and write in our notebook about all sorts of things and that I wouldn't be able to mail it until I returned to the States. I didn't want to wait that long to have her reply. Our blog has been up and running since September. It is the online version of the notebook. We both check it daily to see if the other has posted. Whether it is funny videos, favorite quotes, or long ramblings about all the thoughts floating around in our sometimes joyful, sometimes dark minds. It is keeping us sane and on the same page. However, one of my favorite aspects of the blog is that we use it to share music.
We've collected a lot of theme songs over the years. Now, about every week days we share music with each other. A single song or an entire playlist. It is fantastic to find out that she is in love with a song that I too love just as much. It serves as proof that we're still connected despite everything. Well, the song below came from her but we're both in love with it. It's our theme song now and it is perfect.
Although we've gone through completely different life experiences these past few years (and especially these past few months) it is amazing that we've learned the similar lessons about life, love, and ourselves. The overarching realization has been that home is not a place. It is a feeling. So, even though we're something like 4,493.26 miles apart, whenever we're on Skype it feels like we're sitting right next to each other. Just like the good ol' days where we'd lock ourselves in her room and read Harry Potter for days at a time. Or when we'd sit in my basement for hours taking turns playing The Sims. We could be completely zoned out, multitasking, or talking to someone else but we're still together. And when I'm with her I feel like I'm home.
Back in August I asked my mom to send me a few things. We went over the list multiple times, trying to trim it down so it would fit in one box and not significantly increase the weight of my luggage when I fly home. Last weekend my dad took it to the post office and emailed me the tracking numbers. Three tracking numbers, to be exact, which baffled me because I expected only the one box. "You'll see why there are three when you get them," my mom explained. I was constantly refreshing the USPS page until all the boxes had cleared customs. Then, on Friday morning, I saw the delivery man pull up outside the house.
I signed for each one and carried them into the kitchen. Rosa was just as excited as I was to open them so we set up on the kitchen table. I tried to record myself opening each one but my camera kept cutting out and some chunks are missing, but I'll edit it all together and upload it to my parents so they can see my reactions.
All of the items I requested were included in a mix of extra surprises. A plethora of candy for me and the children. A book club book my mom thought I'd like. A CD she likes. A favorite nightgown and some new pajamasn. A postcard and keychain from Harry Potter World. A gift Paul, the French foreign exchange student, left for me in my room. A purse my dad bought me in New York. And all sorts of other goodies. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. I felt like a spoiled little girl again. Especially when I found the little note my wonderful mother wrote. The giddiness still hasn't faded.
I have the best mom in the world. Proof.
Then on Sunday Sinterklaas came to the village. He comes to Holland from Spain via boat every year in mid-November. With his assistant Zwarte Piet, who disperses pepernoten (gingerbread cookies) and other sweets to the children, he parades through the streets on a grey or white horse.
Roeland watching the band.
Zwarte Piets.
Another Zwarte Piet.
First sighting.
Last Thursday was St. Martin's Day. It is traditionally celebrated on November 11th. Children go from door to door with paper lanterns and sing for candy. The weather was incredibly windy and cold so Rosa and Roeland didn't participate this year. Instead they ran around the house with their lanterns, crashing into furniture in the dark while singing the song at the top of their lungs. So, although I missed that particular Dutch holiday I still got to see Sinterklaas and I got some sweet surprises from home.
A few weeks ago Anna served what she and Robin called a "typical Dutch dinner during the winter" - a potato dish called hutspot. We had it again Monday night. It was the perfect meal on such a cold and wet day. I was looking up the recipe so I could make it for my family when I got home and I discovered that it has an interesting history.
The dish supposedly originated during the Spanish occupation of Holland. The people of Leiden were starving to death so William of Orange (of whom you can read about here) came to the rescue. He flooded the city so that his fleet could sail in and save the day. The Spanish were expelled and legend says that a little boy gathered the vegetables they left behind. Everything was mashed and cooked all together: potatoes, onions, and carrots. Thus, hutspot was born.
Unfortunately, I don't have a picture for you. Some leftover hutspot is still sitting in the fridge but after a few days it doesn't look particularly appetizing. So, to keep this post from looking so bare here are some pictures of the children in the jack-o'-lantern masks I made for them last week in the spirit of an American Halloween.
On Saturday my friends and I walked from Heemstede to Haarlem for an afternoon of shopping. We took a lot of pictures and wandered in and out of shops. Anna said she calls Haarlem the mini-Amsterdam and I think that sounds about right. It was very nice with all the leaves, and it wasn't particularly cold and the rain managed to keep itself tucked away.
From left to right: Mexico, Italy, Mexico, and Germany.
I've had some more adventures in Amsterdam since my visit to Sweden but mostly I just meet up with friends to eat or go shopping and then stay the night watching movies. I had this Friday off as my host family was going to the Dolfinarium in Harderwijk, so I took my time at the house getting ready for a long weekend with friends. I took the train to Amsterdam in the late afternoon to go to a few shops and compare prices on the things I needed to buy for my Halloween costume. Then I had to wait a few hours for everyone to show up, which was fine since there was a carnival in Dam Square.
I got a coffee, sat outside the cafe, and called my parents. I don't call them often on my cell phone because it is expensive but I love calling them when I'm in Amsterdam. It doesn't make me feel so far away from home when I talk to them on my phone instead of Skype. "I'm standing in Dam Square right now." I told them. My mom was worried about me being alone in the city after dark and my dad had to ask what he always asks, "Now, we haven't done any body modifications, have we?" He is concerned that I'm going to get a tattoo or something strange. But maybe he is just teasing me. Sometimes I never really know if he is serious or not.
Two weekends ago I noticed that Christmas lights were already up in the city center and stores had their Holiday merchandise out. It seemed pretty early, at the beginning of October, to already be getting in that spirit but I realized that Halloween here isn't like what it is in the US and there isn't Thanksgiving either. Although dressing in costumes and going to parties for Halloween has become more popular in recent years children don't go trick-or-treating on the 31st.
At first I was feeling really down about missing Halloween with my friends in the States. I mean, I miss my friends all the time here but I knew I was going to miss them even more on Halloween. I love Halloween. Growing up my mom always made the best costumes by hand. Rainbow Brite. Tinkerbell. Alice in Wonderland. Ect. But I have been very lucky to have made some wonderful friends here. They are also au pairs. We're all scattered in different cities and village throughout Holland but we get together on the weekends in Amsterdam. I'm the only American in the group as they hail from all over - Mexico, Spain, Italy, and Germany. But I'll tell you all about them and "us" in another post. So, this weekend we all agreed that we'd celebrate Halloween in Amsterdam together and gave a great time. And we did. I haven't laugh so hard and so much in a long time. I didn't bring my camera so I stole some pictures from Facebook.
Germany and me.
The whole gang: Italy, Mexico, Germany, and me.
Killing time at McDonald's before the station opens at 5am.
The 6:40am train back after a whole night out in A'dam.
