Andy in Amsterdam

I've Moved

2009-06-08T09:15:00.002+02:00

Due to recent events, as well as an effort to have more control over the blog, I've moved to andyinamsterdam.com.

Thank you, Blogger, for all your help. And this little archive will stay right here for the time being.

Look Who's Back

2009-06-06T13:12:00.004+02:00

After two weeks of not having access to this blog, I got an email this morning explaining what had happened and giving me a solution. This is a completely different situation than following all the links provided behind that toxic looking red page that was here for two weeks or looking on the Blogger Discussion boards and Forums. That was sort of a waste of time. It was just a bunch of dead ends and circular questions.

Here's what happened in a nutshell.

About a year ago, I installed a counter - a "goodcounter" counter. Apparently, it contained some "malware" or "badware." Possibly, it wasn't goodcounter, but godcounter, which is a bad site. Two weeks ago, a computer did a sweep of my blog and found something suspicious. My blog was immediately "trashed" and the red page went up. (Sorry if you missed the red page. It was alarming. Be glad you missed it.) I had no access to the template, all of my posts, etc. It was just gone.

As the "owner of this site," I was instructed - via links - to put a little code (they provided the code) in the template of my blog. That would prove to them that it was my site and we could proceed from there. Unfortunately, since I had no access to the template of my blog, I could not prove that it was my blog and I could not go any further.

As I said, I tried forums, I tried other online groups, there were no answers. And I have to say that I was given the same suggestions several times. It was terribly frustrating. It was apparently a road that no one had gone down before - although in my belief system that really doesn't happen. So I was forced to write a letter on paper and use a stamp. Yes, Virginia, they still make paper, envelopes and stamps. You just have to look.

I wrote a letter to Bradley Horowitz. He's one of three Vice Presidents in charge of Production Management. The address of the corporate office is: 1600 Amphitheatre Parkway
Mountain View, CA 94043. I told him what had happened with my blog and that their system for resolving this situation didn't work. I also CCed that letter to the two other Vice Presidents in charge of Production Management, a Senior Vice President, the two Co-founders, and the Eric Schmidt, the Chairman of the Board and CEO of Google. I sent seven letters off - at €1.90 a pop - and waited.

€13.30? Are you serious? Worth. Every. Penny.

This morning I got a very nice, apologetic email from a guy named Rick, a Business Product Manager for Blogger, who was given the assignment of dealing with me. He "untrashed" my blog so that I had access to it. I inserted the code to verify that it was my blog, I looked around for the bad code (didn't find it) and I asked for a reconsideration and the blog was back up in minutes.

So Blogger came through. Thank you Blogger. Their current system for resolving problems like mine is totally f-ed up, but apparently they know it now and are trying to do something about it.

That said, after not having a blog for a few days, I decided to take my domain name and go to another site. It's self-hosting and there are other reasons for the move. I'll keep this here, but my new stuff will be there. Come visit me at my new home.

And if you have a Blogger blog, it's fine. Don't worry about it. It's run by Google and they're a completely competent company. If there's a problem, keep pressing them about it. Write a letter. They're good people. They'll help.

Hemelvaart

2009-05-21T22:34:00.000+02:00

Spring in the Netherlands is a whole string of national holidays for months. Lots of odd days off that I'm not used to. For instance, today is Hemelvaart [pronounced: Hay-mul-fahrt] - Ascension Day. Hemelvaart and the rest of these religious holidays are a holdover from when the Netherlands was a religious country. Now it's mostly a free day when some stores are closed and some are not. In the center, a lot of the stores were open. It's the rare person who actually observes Hemelvaart in a religious way.

We had planned to make a long bike ride today. The weather was supposed to be sunny and clear. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it was a little overcast until the afternoon. So Fred didn't get moving for a while. It was me who finally said, "Okay. We have to do something. Let's at least go to the Center and walk around a bit."

The Center was sort of busy. It wasn't crazy, but people were out. Lots of boats in the canals. people in shops, etc. Fred's off tomorrow too. It's that Friday after Thanksgiving thing. Might as well make it a long weekend.

We did a lot of nothing today. I knit a lot on a something I'll write about later. I also watched Weeds on the computer after a friend told me that it was really good. It is. I like it. I'm hooked. Fred looked stuff up on the computer and took naps intermittently. After we'd walked around the Center for a while, we came back and we were right where we'd started the day - on the couch with our computers in our laps. I made one of our favorite pasta dishes and then we watched a couple of episodes of The Wire. (We're in the middle of Season 3 and we own the box set.)

When I took the picture at the top today, I said, "How many pictures like this have I taken?" Bridge, canal, boats. Done, done, done. Still, I feel compelled to take another picture every time we're out and about.

We have to do something tomorrow. I've got tests to grade, but if I just sit here again the whole day I'll be disappointed at the end of the day.

I have a friend who used to laugh and laugh at the mention of Hemelvaart - for obvious reasons. Fred just said to me, "It's not Hemel-fart. It's Hemel-faaht."

It means, literally, Heaven-journey, by the way. The only bad thing about all of these holidays is that they come to an abrupt end in a couple of weeks. Then there's nothing until the Autumn. Enjoy it while it's here.

On Over-priced Coffee and Coincidence

2009-05-20T23:04:00.005+02:00

When Fred and I were in Warsaw, we went to Starbucks a few times. They'd just opened the store and it was packed all the time. But when you need an over-priced coffee drink, you need an over-priced coffee drink. Plus, they were so nice.

And just because I am the way I am, when we returned home, I went to the Starbucks website and wrote a note:

We were in Starbucks when it was crazy busy. There was a constant flow of people. The people behind the counter couldn't have been more friendly and helpful. They were smiling and ready to do whatever they needed to do to make us happy. Their English was also really good - one young woman in particular (but I didn't get her name). I wish the Starbucks crew at Schiphol were as nice as those Polish kids. It made me really happy because I've enjoyed Starbucks for a long time and I miss it living in Amsterdam.

I think it's important to not just write complaint letters, but to write good letters. I started that years ago when I first got a word processor. I wrote letters all the time. "Thank you for putting such and such on television," etc. It was a hobby. I didn't have knitting back then.

Yesterday, I got an email. It said:

Dear Mr. Baker,

Thank you so much for taking the time to share your thoughts on our new store in Warsaw. The team there has worked long and hard to bring Starbucks to Poland, and they very much appreciated your positive feedback!

By the way, your wait for Starbucks in Amsterdam will not be long. I live in Amsterdam as well, and share your feelings! We are planning to open a store in Station Centraal. The opening has been delayed due to construction, but keep watching!

Warm Regards,
Andrew Smock

I said, "Hey, Fred! I got an email from Starbucks!" It's a little thing, but it was rewarding for me. But that's not the end of the story. Monday night and tonight we had rehearsals for a one-off men's chorus that will be singing this coming Sunday. I'm a first tenor, and the other first tenor and I were expecting a little support from a third first tenor named Andrew. He showed up tonight. Nice guy, good singer.

After rehearsal, we were walking out and I said, "So why are you here? Work?"

He said, "Yes. I'm regional manager for Starbucks."

I said, "You just wrote me an email. About the Polish kids...in Warsaw?"

Small world. And as a side note, there's going to be another Starbucks in Amsterdam! Over-priced coffee comes to the Netherlands! Double tall cappuccino, please!

The Day I Became Dutch

2009-05-19T21:31:00.001+02:00

This afternoon, while were were walking up to the door of the hall where the nationality ceremony was to be held, I turned to Fred and said, "I forgot my camera." It's a pity, but then during the ceremony, I kept looking around saying to myself, "There's really not that much to take a picture of." I found it soothing - don't spoil it for me.

Similarly, Fred and I were about to lift on on our helicopter ride around the Grand Canyon a few years ago and he looked up and told me that the batteries in the camera were dead. I mouthed, "Where are the spare batteries?" He mouthed, "Spare batteries?" I felt my stomach hitting the floor (of the canyon), but I decided to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Does the world really need another set of Grand Canyon pictures? That's how one sooths himself in situations like that.

So this is the picture you get. It's the gift all us new Nederlanders got. The title is just The Canon of Amsterdam: For New Amsterdamers. It's a history of Amsterdam since we are not just Dutch citizens now, but citizens of Amsterdam as well. The blue and white pot and the drop is from Ada and Bart. It's from a store called Blond. I've been in there, but it's one of those stores that looks like it's geared towards young pre-teen girls. The pot was a good find.

The nationality ceremony was held in a small hall in the Muziektheater - the Boekmanzaal. There was a piano playing when we arrived and everyone had to sign in at the table. Lots of red chairs in rows. You could bring some friends. I brought Fred; his sister, Ada; and Ada's husband, Bart. We had a cup of coffee and sat and waited for it to start. It was scheduled to start at 3:15 in the afternoon. The invitation said that the doors will open at 3:00 and close promptly at 3:15. They were still open at 3:20, which I found slightly disappointing.

The crowd was very...ethnically diverse. In fact, at the end of the ceremony, the MC read a list of countries represented. Lots of Africa, Asia, as well as the usual suspects: Turkey and Morocco, and even Canada, and the US. There were probably some folks from South America as well. If you do the math, it's sort of logical. Anybody from an EU country gets a pass on the whole citizenship thing, so it's gonna be everybody else. It was quite a mix. A huge list of countries and probably over fifty people getting their citizenship in Amsterdam today. The whole thing lasted an hour and then Bob's-your-uncle: it was over. (Apprapo of nothing, I keep saying Bob's-your-uncle lately.)

The speaker was Godfried Lambriex. He's a politician, an alderman, a city council person from the Baarsjes. He gave a speech sort of bent over the microphone. He just read it really fast. It was one of those pat speeches that anyone could give, the kind of stuff you'd expect to hear at a citizenship ceremony. "People come to the Netherlands for all sorts of reasons...you're one of us now...rights and responsibilities...yada yada" Even Ada said that he talked too fast. He was also completely uninspiring. Well, he did mention that everyone's little idiosyncrasies and differences are okay in the Netherlands. I'll take that to the bank.

After Mr. Lambriex's speech, a blond woman stood up there and read everyone's name - one at a time. Upon hearing his or her name, the person stood up and walked to the front so that Mr. Lambriex could give you the official paper and the gift. I have to say that I think the woman reading the names did a phenomenal job. Some of the names were just crazy. Names from many different countries and she just zipped right through them. "Deheer Baker" was one of the easier names, obviously. There were lots of women, as one might suspect. A fair number of men. A handful of children. Those African girls were cheering and taking pictures like crazy.

And then, as they say, Bob's your uncle. There were drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Most of the folks beat a path out of there. We stood and had a glass of wine and then went for coffee. (You have to keep those stimulants and depressants in balance.)

I was sort of numb. I don't get nervous before things like that: speeches, singing, etc. It's after that I feel it. The whole ceremony and being the center of attention (even of the three I was with) just sort of took it out of me. I had choir rehearsal in the evening and I had to come home and take a nap. I used to go grocery shopping and feel like that. My brain was so full.

So now I have dual nationality. And I'm married. When I was 43...it was a very big year..It was a very big year legal things...like weddings and stuff. I have three more weeks of 43. Let's see what I can do with that.

Nationality Eve

2009-05-18T17:22:00.007+02:00

Did I mention that I'm getting Dutch nationality tomorrow? No, I don't think I did. I applied about two months ago and the ceremony is tomorrow. It was an amazingly quick two month wait - and I didn't blog about it once. Part of me was nervous.

I went down to the office - alone. I had to go to a couple of places because I got some bad information. It was just a matter of finding all my paperwork. There's a lot that I didn't need. They know everything about me. They know when I got here, when I applied for a staying permit, when it expires, when I got married. Handy, but a little bit ouder broer if I were to think about it too much. Then I got a letter saying that they were missing something, could I send it in. Then one saying that my application was being processed. Very normal, what you'd expect.

In the next letter I got, the immigration and naturalization service gave themselves eight months to get back to me with a yes or no. My application for citizenship had gone through the first stage and that the queen had approved of me. However, they informed me that I was not to contact their office for eight months. It said twice do not contact us by phone or email for eight months. So I figured I'd be getting a letter around Christmas. Then out of nowhere, the letter arrived inviting me to go to the ceremony. You have to go to the ceremony. No phoning it in. No attendance no nationality.

From what I understand, getting a Dutch passport used to be really easy. I think people just showed up and asked for one and they got it. Then it gradually got more difficult. Nowadays, you have to fit a couple of criteria before they invite you to the ceremony. (This is my experience, by the way. Things change all the time. No promises.)

First of all, you have to pass a Dutch language course to a certain level: NTT Niveau 2. The language course was fairly standard and at the end of it, I spoke fairly good Dutch. It's one of those courses where you get out of it what you put in. At that point, I used my Dutch much more, so I was much more comfortable that I am at this moment.

Secondly, you have to pass a test about how Dutch society works: The Verklarring Nieuwkomers. I didn't really understand that this was a separate piece, but when I was getting my paperwork together, I realized that it is. The test is over things like where to you put your garbage and who to call when something happens, like a water main or a stoplight. I'd heard stories about being in a class where they introduce the concept of crossing the street or washing dishes in a sink. It wasn't like that. It was useful information - generally. You have to get at least an 80%. Full disclosure, I got an 80%. A lot of Dutch people don't even have that high a score. (Of course their command of the language is better, so it evens out.)

Thirdly, you have to have lived here for five years. I'm here five. I think that if you're here for five years and you've got the other two pieces and you want to become Dutch, you can, but you have to give up your other (in my case US) citizenship. That's the rule: you have to give up your citizenship. But there's an exception to the rule.

If you're married or are in a registered partnership, you can keep your other citizenship and you just have to be here for three years. Those are exceptions (as I understood them). So I'm keeping my US passport. The letter also said that five days after the ceremony, I can apply for a passport. In fact, when I went in to apply for citizenship, I accidentally (I was nervous) said that I was applying for a passport. My person said, "Nationaliteit." Oops.

I haven't really thought a lot about this in writing. I've mostly talked to people who are in favor getting a Dutch passport. No one has said there's a downside to it. I wonder if there could be an objective argument made about not getting Dutch nationality. And, to my great relief, no one questioned my right to get Dutch nationality. The whole time I kept thinking, How could they not want me? I'm not objectionable, right?

Oddly, I don't get the sense that getting Dutch nationality makes you feel Dutch the way getting American nationality makes you feel American. I saw a movie years ago with an old Greek man after a US nationality ceremony crying and saying, "I am American." Somehow I can't see that happening here. Of course I could be wrong. It's not Dutch people we're talking about here. It's a room full of non-natives. None of us will have integrated that Calvinistic soberness that some of the Dutch have. (Wonder who'll be there. Who shares my nationality day?)

I'm sure there's a bond with nationality. It's got to be like married. Maybe living here without a passport is like living with someone without any paperwork or contract. Maybe having Dutch nationality will be like being married. I do feel more connected to Fred than I did before the wedding. There's that commitment thing that sort of "gets me right here." I hope I don't cry tomorrow. I cried at the wedding. I could barely say my vows.

I'll report back tomorrow and write about how it went.

What I'm Currenlty Knitting

2009-05-17T18:31:00.006+02:00

Last week or so, I wrote about experimenting with entrelac. I thought it might be good for a baby hat. I think it is. I think it'll work. This was my first experiment. When I finished it off, it began looking like something. It's a very cute hat. This particular color combo is a bit distressing to me, but I was using what I had left over. I didn't have enough of that green (which, for some reason, is bothersome to me here) to go all the way around, so I used a bit of that tan. That blue and green would be nice for some earth/globe idea, if you just wanted to knit a silly baby hat.

Entrelac is really not difficult at all. I thought it would be, but it's not. I picked it right up by reading about it in Son of Stitch 'n Bitch - a book that has been oddly useful since I bought it. I read it all the time. Part of what makes the hat work, I think, is the stitch pattern, which is just a K1 P1 on one round and a knit on the other; it's fairly loose. Someone looked at it on Monday and said, "It looks really loose." Being loose is different than looking loose. I think I would prefer plain stockinette. My next experiment will be stockinette and I have a couple of ideas about what to do with the color, as seeing it like this makes me thing of something that I won't say right here. It could be sort of funny. I'm going to try it. I'll keep you posted - if I haven't lost everyone at this point. (I like the star thing that's going on. )

I'm also working on an Elizabeth Zimmmerman Pi Shawl. I linked there to Brooklyn Tweed's blog. He made a beautiful and beautifully-photographed shawl/blanket with the the pattern I'm using. I would link to a shawl with the pattern that is more my speed, but those all happen to be the other pattern. Anyway, it's good, straight-forward plain old knitting with some yarn overs. I'm going great guns on it because I can feel that I'm making progress and I want desperately to get to the color change in the yarn. I'm using the yarn below. It's really beautiful and sort of oily. I like knitting with it. It feels strong, sort of masculine (for lace knitting). I asked Fred how he liked it. He said, "So you're finally turning into a real old lady."

Mine "shawl fetus" (it's all pre-formed and curled up like a baby in a womb in the middle of that circular) currently looks like a ball of crumpled up yarn, which I know all lace projects are until they're blocked. But mine feels especially ugly right now. I think it's going to be reasonably big. I hope so.

This yarn, by the way, was a mess to make into a ball. My ball winder (I'm currently typing with my ball winders) got all messed up. It took me literally three and a half hours. But I got to know the yarn intimately and I really like how it feels. It's Eveilla Artyarn 8/2. It's a purchase I made in the Fall that I am really happy about now.

You know, sometimes a guy just needs to write about his knitting. Thanks if you got his far.

Eurovision Song Contest 2009

2009-05-16T23:42:00.001+02:00

Tonight was the finale of the Eurovision Song Contest. It's sort of like Idols - except that it's totally different. This contest has been going on since 1956 and is open to (mostly) European countries only. (Oddly, Israel is now part of Europe.) I think the song has to premiere on the contest. There are no covers like in Idols. It also goes on for three days, not several weeks, like Idols.

This is the first year we've really watched much of it. We saw the second night (Thursday) and then tonight we saw the voting. Fortunately, I was able to see my favorite who was on Thursday and who ended up winning. It was Norway. The singer was a young guy named Alexander Rybak, and he is so totally cute that I just want to put him on a key chain and carry him around all day. Norway's song was I'm in Love with a Fairy Tale. Fred thinks it's totally cheesy, but I loved it every time I saw it because you can see that he's having lots of fun and he's got good backup singers and dancers. If you haven't seen it, click on the link and watch it. It's sweet.

After Fred said that Norway's offering was cheesy, by the way, I reminded him that the Netherlands had won with Ding-a-Dong in 1975. Give it a listen. One word: Velveeta.

The thing about this contest that I really liked was that some of the people, like Alexander, play instruments and appear to have a talent other than just singing. There were also a lot of songs that reflected the ethnicity of the country, like Moldova. I actually got a sort of a feeling for Moldova, whereas some countries just did very American stuff, which seemed to me to be sort of cheat-y. Azerbaijan did very well, but...uh, where is Azerbaijan? (Don't tell me. I know. Fred told me already.) Seriously. Have you ever heard of Azerbaijan?

The first time I ever heard of the Eurovision song contest, I was at Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen with a friend. We happened to be there when The Olsen Brothers were playing. They played some very nice songs and then the played Wings of Love and the crowd went wild. I said, "What's with this song?" My friend, Mike, told me that it had won the Eurovision Song Contest with that song in 2001. And now every time I listen to that song, I am taken back to Tivoli Gardens.

Two years ago, we watched the finale and Serbia won. I said, "Serbia won with that song?" I mean, it was okay, but it wasn't anything I remembered the next day. Holland's offering this year was a completely sappy, cheesy tune sung by the Toppers. I was completely disappointed because it was so very Up with People and it seemed like they were...it seemed like the wrong venue for that type of song. It was just three middle aged men singing a "believe it yourself" kind of song. I felt like, you know, it's a contest. Go in there and try to win. Plus, even given that it was the wrong type of song (IMHO), it wasn't a very good song.

Fred looked up a couple of old songs. They used to be just normal songs. Now it's a big show, an extravaganza with fire works and light shows. They also used to have to sing in their native language, which I sort of like the idea of. I think Moldova lost points for that and little Alexander (He's 23. I can have an evening long crush on a 23-year-old.) sang in English. Next year I want to make sure and see they whole thing.

When I Fly Away

2009-05-15T18:55:00.000+02:00

When I had my will made out some months ago, (If you don't have a will, you should. Everyone should have a will.) something I didn't think about was what would happen with all of my online stuff. Our notary wouldn't have added it into the will, but I didn't even think about it. If I were to drop dead tomorrow, my online presence would just sit there for all time. My little corner of the Internet would just stay how it was the day before with no way for anybody to change it. This goes for my Facebook Account, my Twitter (I'm not a good Twitterer), my email addresses and anything else I have online.

As an example, my friend Sally died suddenly a couple of years ago and her travel blog is still up and will likely stay up for all time regardless of whether or not she would have wanted it taken down or changed, or to have a note there that says that she's gone. In fact, there are tons of blogs that are inactive. People blog for a day or a week and then give it up. What happened to these people. Are they just lazy or are they dead?

While listening to NPR Shuffle the other day (from iTunes: the episode was from 11 May 2009), I heard about Legacy Locker. It's a service where you can store all your log in names and passwords so that your online presence can be managed after your death the way you want it to be managed. You want your email inbox deleted? Let them know. You want your Facebook page used as an online mourning center? Put it there. They pass the information on to someone who you designate. They'll even let you write emails to people that will be delivered after they get confirmation that you have passed on. I love that part. I can write people from the grave? Count on it!

The idea of someone managing my online presence (or even having access to a complete list of where I am "present online") after my death appeals to me. It's the unfinished quality of a blog that just stops that bothers me. I hate when blogs just stop and there's no way to contact the blogger and say, "Then what happened? Finish the story!" Years ago, I had a blog that was about a job, and when I left the job, I wrote a last post on the blog - in case someone should find it and read it. (It rarely gets any hits.) I just wanted any accidental reader to know what happened - why X is gone - and how the story ended.

The cost of Legacy Locker for a lifetime is $299. That's not that much really, over a lifetime that I expect to be long and prosperous. After hearing about Legacy Locker, I suddenly feel like there were all these loose ends that won't get tied up unless I do something. I could write it down and tell Fred, or Patty or Kathy, but they'll be sad and it won't be that important to them. They might let it sit too long or forget. Plus, I like that Legacy Locker has a system. They ask all the right questions.

I'm not the kind of person who left high school and never contacted anyone. I know people who say, "I just want to be that mysterious person who they used to know." I want people to know where I am now and what I'm doing. And when the time comes, I want people to know that the time has come.

Legacy Locker is such a good idea. To me, it's one of those, "Of course!" ideas. You can shoot holes through it (how do you know they're not just taking the login names and passwords and screwing with you?), but I think it's a fascinating idea.

And, amazingly, this was not a paid advertisement.

Just Like the Movies

2009-05-14T17:15:00.000+02:00

Last night I watched The Celluloid Closet again, which is sort of great for knitting because there's all that looking up and down and I see parts of it that you didn't see before, or I put a voice with a face when I see it again. It's lots of short clips, so it's new all the time. Fred was in class.

Anyway, at one point, Quintin Crisp was talking. He lived in NYC while I lived in NYC. I saw him one morning when I was at brunch with some friends. He was dandied up like he always was with his lavender hair all swooped up. It's always fun to see an icon in person.

In the film, which is about movies, Mr. Crisp says, "Everyone who comes from England to America and goes back says one thing: It's more like the movies than you'd ever dream!" Then he smiles and nods and says, "And it is."

I know exactly what he's talking about. When Dutch kids see movies about American high school, it looks sort of made up and not real. Girls really walk the halls in those cheerleading outfits? And there are really big high school football games where the band marches? People really care about who their student council representatives are? Yes. Yes. Yes. I always smile and proudly say, "It's just like you see it in the movies." Yes, the directors pop it up a notch, but I'm not sure you could tell the difference if you were seeing it for the first time.

Similarly, living in Europe, for me, is often like standing in a postcard. There are many times when I've stood on a bridge or on a street corner and thought, "This looks like a photograph." Sometimes it's amazingly easy to take pictures. I just raise my camera and shoot. It often feels unreal. There are many times when I've wish I had a certain friend with me to enjoy it. Alas, I have snap pictures to tell them about it.

My life path took a sort of a wacky turn years ago and I'm really enjoying where it's taken me.

That picture, by the way, is of me and Fred at a stairwell in Warsaw.

Huisvuil

2009-05-13T22:20:00.001+02:00

When I first saw this tile after moving here, I didn't know what it meant. I thought that it was, perhaps, a marker for something that was underneath that tile: a valve, a pipe. I think I was able, at that point, to pick the words apart and see that it was huis (house) plus something. I knew the other part (vuil) was pronounced foul, so I thought, House-foul...was it poo? I imagined a valve there that led to the sewer system.

I was wrong. That's not it. It's just a tile telling people where to pile their trash on trash day. Huisvuil means literally 'household rubbish.' Here's a snap to give it some perspective.

I know it seems to ridiculous and mundane after you've been around it for years - or grown up with it - but seeing little things like that used to keep me distracted half ways down the block. There's just nothing like it in my experience. In suburban America, you put the garbage by the curb in big trash cans or bags. In NYC, I used to put my garbage in the cans in front of the building and the super would organize everything for the trash pick up. There were no tiles necessary. So I had no clue.

There's a woman at church who collects plastic for recycling because apparently in Diemen - where she lives - they collect plastic for recycling. I would love to recycle plastic. It would drive Fred crazy to have another bag around - which, of course, if part of the appeal. As it is, we just do paper and glass, both of which I am very mindful of. There was a super-crazy and specific recycling project in Brooklyn many years ago that someone once took me by - on our way to something else. There was a bag for green bottle tops (those screw on kind) vs. blue bottle tops. Part of me loves that.

In Amsterdam, there are special days to put out big stuff like furniture or...other stuff that's not normal garbage. There is the occasional toxic waste pickup in case you have batteries or ink cartridges. The Dutch or pretty consciencious about trash, which is probably smart.

Years ago, I knew a woman who worked in "Solid Waste Management." My first thought when I read that? Poo. She said everyone thought that. It was all about what to do with all that garbage people produce. Garbage is one of those subjects that makes my mind reel. There's so much of it!

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

Golden Rain

2009-05-12T18:35:00.003+02:00

Fred and I saw these trees the other day and I went back last evening to take a picture. They're Goudenregen (golden rain) trees and they always surprise me when they come into bloom. They're very wisteria like, but I'm pretty sure these are trees, not vines.

I'd never seen them before moving here. They're one of the many things that are new to me since moving here five years ago. They're probably plentiful in certain parts of the US, but my life was limited to North Texas and New York City. Different foliage there.

It's really difficult to get a picture of the trees that doesn't look blurry. (Or maybe the picture is blurry.) There are so many things that are amazing to look at that I can't get a picture of. The light was really nice, not glaring, and there was a stiff breeze. This was right across from a canal not far from us.
It's a pity these blossoms don't stay around for longer. Last year I didn't really start to notice them until the flowers were almost faded. I'm glad that when these go away other flowering trees probably start to bloom.

Also, I'm ready for summer to really be here. I'm over the spring jacket look. Let's move into the summer wardrobe.

Code Pink

2009-05-11T19:19:00.001+02:00

I swiped this from a Flickr page. Alex wrote on her blog recently about this action that was put on by Code Pink. It happened on Mother's Day at the White House. People from all over the world were asked to send in 4 inch by 4 inch knitted or crocheted squares in pink and green that would be put together to make a giant quilt that would be displayed in front of the White House on Mother's Day. The whole banner says, "We will not raise our children to kill another mother's child." (Julia Ward Howe, in case you were wondering.)

Ginni from our knitting group got us to commit to twenty squares. I knit four green squares. After four, I realized that I hate kitting little squares. I kept trying to think of a way to make a lot of them without having to cast on and off. If I could have knit a scarf that was like three feet long and then steek it, I could have doubled my output - at least. But casting on, knitting a bit and then casting off those silly things? No thanks! I'm sure there were no rules for that. They would have taken steeked squares, but I didn't think of it until I was sick of the project. If I would have had a serious challenge, I would also have done a lot of them. I had no takers. When Ginni brought it up, people were like, "Yeah...I'll do one."

The only rules were green and pink. You can see how many shades there are. It's sort of hard to read from far away. And I blocked mine. Some people (I'm not naming names) didn't block or pay attention to the size request. I sewed in a few ends before Ginni sent them off. Can you imagine sewing those together? I bet someone grabbed a stapler before it was finished.

This action didn't get any press here. I didn't see anything. It's sort of a nice idea, but I kept wondering what they were going to do with the quilt after the action was over. Seems like you could take it apart and make blankets for homeless people out of it. Or baby blankets or something. It almost seems like a waste. Do something with it.

My enthusiasm for this project is questionable. Am I hiding that at all?

Entrelac Adventure

2009-05-10T18:51:00.000+02:00

Warning: All knitting

Entrelac embodies one of the things I love about knitting. It looks comlicated or involved, but when you read it step by step how to do it, it's relatively easy. I like how involved I have to be when I'm knitting. There's counting and stuff. It's not just knitting. It's a lot of picking up stitches and decreases. I'm doing a lot with waste yarn to make it managable for me. The original pattern has everything on double points.

This is an idea that I'm working on because I had some left over balls of yarn. I'm sort of making this up. It was a sock pattern from Son of Stitch and Bitch that I modified to what I thought would be a baby hat. It still could be. I'll have to see how it looks when I do the decrease at the top. It might be a floppy baby hat. Different colors and a different stitch pattern would make it a little tighter and neater looking. I'm a little disturbed by the looseness.

Hats are the perfect project to try something out on. I'm a little bit addicted to them. Someone sent a link to The Red Thread Project. Maybe I'll send some of them there. Sounds a little fruity, but it's going to a good cause.

I have a friend who is going to only knit things next year that she designed herself. I would like to do something similar. I already modify things all to heck.

Mixing It Up

2009-05-09T23:03:00.001+02:00

I recently got an email from someone and I went and looked at her blog. While I was looking at it, I realized that the look of my blog really needs an update. It feels like a house that was decorated when I moved in four years ago, but now it's a little stale. There all kinds of different options now. When I started blogging, back in 2004, I chose a bunch of the options that Blogger offered, and I've lived with them since. I've made a few modifications, but it's basically the same as it was originally. I need to mix things up a bit.

My opinions on the look of people's blogs can be severe, but I'm pretty forgiving. The main things is don't like are...for instance music - the kind that starts playing when you go to the page. I'll avoid blogs when there's music. It's so suddenly in my face. I hate it. I like to see YouTube videos when I go to blogs, but I've never done them and I don't expect I will. I'm more of a linker for things like that.

For my blog, I like a straight forward set up. Classic, understate. I like to be able to see the words and I prefer black type on white background - but white type on black background it my least favorite. That said, the blog that made me re-think my set up was white on black. My blog feels like something that used to be crisp, but it's yellowed a bit - like a favorite table cloth.

I wish there were more options in terms of Blogger templates that I like or modifying this template. I feel like I need to strip it down and start over completely - take all the furniture out of the room and start over. I've had people say, "Move to Wordpress," but I'm not going to move. It's too complicated. I just want a different look and I think I can get it with Blogger. For instance, I think I'd like tabs at the top. I've seen things I like on other Blogger blogs. I just need to figure out what I want. I have to do a lot of window shopping.

You know what else I don't like? It's Google Ads. I know people have them, but I don't think they're worth it. They sort of have a look like a house that has a card table out front and a sign that says, "Apples - Twelve for a dollar." It's like people who check every payphone for a quarter someone forgot. It seems sort of low rent. I've heard you don't really make much off those. It's not worth it to me. (By the way, I would love to hear success stories if I'm wrong.)

The label cloud is something that I like. I'm going to have to try a few things. I also told myself that I was going to put up my "Followers" when I had ten and I just got to ten.

So I've got a lot of reading ahead of me. I hope I didn't offend anyone. Am I wrong?

Dutch Culture and Grading

2009-05-08T19:50:00.000+02:00

I spent about five hours today having mondeling (oral) exams with my students. I spoke with each of them for about 7-10 minutes - one after the other. It was a very interesting, if sort of exhausting day. Most of my students speak much better (and certainly more candidly) individually than they do in class. (With a few, it was like a short counseling session.) Some expressed to me that speaking in front of their peers makes them nervous. I never had that problem in Dutch class. I was sort of a loud mouth who always had the answer - especially to grammar questions.

Speaking of which, I realized today that I'm going to have to work grammar in more creatively next year. I know I lose a lot of them when we're looking at grammar - and some of them are still totally lost even though I feel like we've beaten the subject to death. It's sort of a pity that I've gotten to the end of the year and now I get it - but that's how I am. I've done fine this year, but only after having gone through the entire year do I really have a sense of these students and of the year as a whole. I'll do better next year.

Grading in Dutch culture is different than it is where I come from. I noticed this when I was grading kids a couple of years ago when I was teaching high school. And I felt it when I was being graded by (adult) students at the language school where I teach.

Some of my students go on and on about how much they enjoyed the class and how much they learned. But when they are faced with scoring the experience on a scale of one to ten, Dutch students consistently give an 8 if they really got a lot out of the class. A ten is reserved for absolutely perfect and a nine is reserved for almost perfect. An eight means that the class was really great. I still get eights and I think, "Really? I thought you liked the class."

An eight to me is like a B. A nine feels like an A and a 10 is like an A+. Honor students in my high school could get even higher than an A+. (Generally, honor students were kept away from the likes of me, but I wooed one with my youthful humor and good looks, and learned their secret ways.) I'm willing to concede that maybe I didn't merit an A+, but I feel like an A wouldn't be out of the question in most cases. An eight still feels a little bit like a slap in the face with some of my students.

Similarly, when I was grading students in the high school, I had to be really tough, picking at flow and pronunciation and every little grammar slip. And these are kids who many native speakers (especially Americans) would speak to and be completely impressed with in terms of their ability.

So I start with an eight when I'm grading these kids. No one gets a ten and few people get a nine. I have kids who are satisfied with a six! I had a girl tell me today that her 5.5 was really a six, so she was fine with it. I said, "It's not a six. It's a 5.5. You were a tenth of a point from failing and having to take the test over." I should have failed her. Next time I will.

The whole experience is an exercise in bending my brain (figuratively) to how the Dutch think. It feels like the slap in the face that some of them to give them an eight. But they understand it. And similarly, if I give some of them a six - like they deserve - they'll get it and be okay with it.

I have to do more reading on the Dutch educational system. It's fascinating. Structurally, it's pretty different than the US system. (And I don't like some of it.)

Ahh...Learning never stops.

Five Random Thoughts

2009-05-07T22:10:00.000+02:00

1. I did a lot of paperwork today. Administrative stuff that it took me a while to get my head around. I had to do it in little steps. It was very put-one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of stuff. I finally got it done and it was a huge load off my back. And then the other little things that I have to do - as follow up - don't seem like such a big deal.

2. A baby hat I've been designing is finally finished. I've written it down and I need to get someone to test the pattern. It's a simple pattern, but it's exactly what I wanted. I was going back and forth about how to end it, but I picked something and I'm happy about it. I think I'll expand it - as someone suggested - to an adult size. I really like it.

3. A headline I read said that the governor of Maine just signed a law legalizing same sex marriage - if you hadn't heard. I love that this keeps happening in these random states with no warning. It's just one after the other. It's such a nice surprise with all the other crappy news that we keep hearing lately. It makes me hopeful that more people will realize that opposition to same sex marriage is stupid. Maybe I'm tired, but I'll go ahead and say it: If you're still opposed to the idea of same sex marriage, you're being a prick and you need to get over it. It's nothing but prejudice and that's ugly. Don't be ugly.

4. It occurred to me that I didn't give an update on my friend, Patty - after requesting good thoughts and prayers. That reminds me of a person in my life who is always telling the first half or the last half of a story - leaving me hanging or bringing me in halfway through a story. That drives me crazy, so I should close the book on the Patty story. She had surgery and is recovering. She's doing fine. It was something that needed to be done, but there were no complications and she's feeling better. All good thoughts were appreciated.

5. Fred and I just watched The Celluloid Closet. It's really good. If you haven't seen it, you should. It's an eye opener. It's about gay people in film throughout history. We also watched The Times of Harvey Milk recently, as well as Beefcake. The Harvey Milk film is an inspiring piece of history and is about an amazing man. Beefcake is just eye candy. I bought all three at a local bookshop. Money well spent.

A Little Bag of Memories

2009-05-06T22:11:00.000+02:00

While we were going through security on our way to Warsaw last weekend, I had my knitting needles confiscated. The security guard actually stood in front of my holding a tray which held my 3.5mm (36 inch long) circulars and a mechanical pencil. She felt the tip and said, "This is too sharp. You can't take it on the plane."

I picked up the pencil and pointed to the tip and said, "This is sharper than that is."

She knew I was right, but she was being told by someone with some authority that knitting needle are bad and can't be taken on the plane. I've done it tons of times before, but I've usually already cast on, so it looks more like I'm knitting than that I've got a long wire shaped weapon with sharp ends.

As we were walking away, I tearfully screamed, "Confiscating knitting needles is so last year!"

I didn't really. I was too stunned. What does a person do on an airplane besides knit? Fortunately, I had a crochet needle with me. And I had my ipod.

Then, for some reason, my ipod quit working. It wouldn't do anything. I couldn't even play solitaire. And I can't crochet in silence. So I read a book I'd bought. It's a Dutch book - a thriller. Fred was unbothered by the whole incident. And he gets on the plane, reads a bit and falls asleep.

So I was in Warsaw for three days with no knitting, a single crochet hook and a ball of yarn. I made the little bag in the photo. When we got home, I finished it with a picot edge and turned to Fred and said, "I just made one of the most granny things I've ever made." But it's totally sturdy. And it's fairly well designed. The icord goes through a row of double crochet. It's not just tied on.

In Warsaw, we met a couple of American women. The one who was most taken with us was Vicky, a hard boiled woman who is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas and who will one day return to her husband and son who live in Houston. Vicky loves tall bald men. When we walked in, her table had discussed whether or not Fred and I were gay. Vicky said she had voted no. Of course the tall bald gay Brits she was with voted yes. (It's call Gaydar.) The other woman, Marsha, walked over and the first thing she said after Vicky mentioned that I was originally from Texas was "I hate Texans." Charmed, I'm sure. Marsha was a thin little thing with bad dental work and she was dee-runk.

"And, Marsha? I love your hair. The Eighties was fun, wasn't it?"

So strange to meet Americans while away for the weekend. They've both been in Warsaw longer than I've been here. What a random place to spend seven or eight years - and neither speak the language. I like talking to American who live outside the US. It's amazing the ways people cope.

Warsaw Recap - 3 of 3

2009-05-05T17:54:00.007+02:00

I'll jet through this last post. It's a bit of architecture, churches, and food - and not a lot of any of them.
A lot of Warsaw's architecture has that post-WW2 Socialist Realist feel to it. The building above, for example, the Palace of Culture and Science, was a gift from Soviet Russia and it was designed by a Russian architect. I liked it. Fortunately for us, it was right across the street from our hotel, making our hotel easy to find. Unfortunately, it's sort of square. So a couple of times we were looking at it, but we weren't sure which side we were standing on - and it's a long way from one side to the other. We never went in. We meant to, but we got back to the hotel on the last day, realized we'd missed it, shrugged and said, "Oh well...next time."

This was shot from the courtyard of the Banking and Finance Center. We walked by on a bank holiday. These square, gray, solid buildings look really great when there's no one around. There was another couple - a mother and son combo - who were taking pictures of this building while we were there, but it was big enough that we were able to avoid them.

There are a lot of palaces in Warsaw. This palace, that palace, a former palace, etc. (I think they're overusing/misusing the word.) The photo above is of the Palace on the Water. It actually looked like a palace, whereas some of the other buildings looked like just another a very large building. This had a lot of repairs done to it after the war because rather than blowing it up - as they had planned - the Nazis just set fire to it before they left. Thanks, you guys, hope that taking over the world thing works out.

The palace was crowded with people and there were a couple of peacocks, which were causing a bit of a fuss. They were squawking and people wanted pictures of them. The peacocks weren't cooperating. Not a lot of "back feathers up" photos. But some nice snaps of the canals and lakes.

Something else there were a lot of were churches. A huge church filled with statues and art and right next to it would be another huge church. It was ridiculous planning. Warsaw must have a lot of Catholics. However, if you've seen a lot of old European Catholic churches, you've pretty much seen these. They're pretty, but I sort of felt like I'd seen them already.

One thing I hadn't seen was some really good relics. I've seen relics before, but these looked like they'd just been cleaned and remounted. I forget what church this was, but they were beautiful and fascinating. A lot of the ones I've seen are just brown bits of a bone that were glued to a piece or red velvet 70 years ago. These were big and nicely mounted. (These are relics, right?)

We visited the Royal Castle on the last day. I was a bit ambivalent about going in. It's a massive structure, and it's beautiful, but the real castle was destroyed by (say it with me now...) the Nazis, in 1944. So this is largely a reconstruction and - I hate to say it, but - it sort of feels like it. Everything is really new looking - especially some of the statuary. That said, I liked seeing it because it's beautifully done and it does give you the feeling of being in a really old Polish building. But it didn't give me a "King Zygmunt III slept here" feeling.

Complicating matters were several groups of school children (on a Saturday?) who were...what's the word I'm looking for? Oh - groups of school children. Avoid. at. all. costs.

This is me buying stamps at the big post office in Warsaw that is - this is my favorite part - open 24/7/365! When I went to get a number (they are very organized) an old woman walked right up and tried to grab my number. Without thinking, I said, "What are you - nuts? Get in line!" To be fair - to me - she was pretty crazy and after I took my number she just wandered around muttering to herself. Buying the stamps was a slight challenge. It called on my vast array of non-verbal skills. Pointing, hand gestures, the universal holding up of fingers. Oddly, speaking English really loudly doesn't always make people understand what I am saying - but I tried that too.

The first night of our stay, we asked the guy at the desk for a restaurant recommendation. I wanted something very Polish and very normal. I was thinking of a Polish diner in NYC and I wanted a plate of pierogi like I used to get there. Yes, it was a lot to ask for, but if you don't ask...

He sent us to Delicja Polska, which is a little chi-chi and not what I was hoping for. First of all, it was a beautiful evening and all of the street cafes were filled. This place had no sidewalk tables. The whole thing was in the basement, which was unfortunate. And as far as the decorations went, it looked like Poland's gayest man and someone's grandmother had had a child and that offspring had grown up and decorated the restaurant. It was over-the-top in a lot of strange ways. Lots of flowers and too much of everything. Cute idea, though. And the food was really good. I probably should have said that first. The food was great. A little fancy, but really good Polish food.

The second day, we found another restaurant, Klaskyka Polskie. (Full disclosure: I found it and insisted on walking in to ask if: 1) they spoke English, and 2) they were open for lunch.) I didn't get a plate of pierogi, but we got some fabulous potato pancakes (mine had goulash on them and Fred's had a mushroom sauce), and went back in the evening for the Polish plate. The Polish plate was various kinds of Polish food, one of which was pierogi and one of which was potato pancake - again. I'd complain, but they were good every single time: thin and fried with a sauce. It's a heart attack on a plate, but they were delicious.

The Polish apparently haven't gotten wind that there are other vegetables in the world besides cabbage and carrots. This was also not a diner, but it was cozy "as all get out," as my father would say. You can click on the link and see the restaurant: a little artificial in appearance, but I'd totally go back.

I really love trying the local cuisine when we travel. I always think about how much my father would enjoy it. He likes different kinds of food. I've always been a good eater like that.

Side note: Along the Nowy Swiat were several coffee places. Coffee Heaven was one. (It...disappoints.) They also had several others, including a Costa and a Starbucks. Apparently the Starbucks had just opened because it was completely crowded with people - including an American and a Dutchman a couple of times.

While I was talking to my student today, she told me about her trip last weekend to Budapest. She had that "Wow!" feeling when she was talking about Budapest. I don't feel "wow" about Warsaw, but I enjoyed the trip. I wish I'd worn better shoes. It was an interesting city to see, one that I don't think a lot of people (comparatively) are going to bother with. If I were going to make a suggestion, I'd say you could probably save it. It'll get better as the years go by. Apparently there's an ongoing effort to improve it. But if you're in the neighborhood, definitely stop in.

Warsaw Recap - 2 of 3

2009-05-04T15:19:00.008+02:00

On Friday, we headed out to see the Former Jewish Ghetto. It's in a completely different part of town than the Old Town and the New Town. We walked to get there. It felt really far away.

There's a Path of Remembrance and it starts with the Monument to the Ghetto Heroes - shown here. It's large and, as with a lot of these monuments, it includes a lot of empty space.

When we walked the path, it led us along some streets where we saw little markers like this one. They're engraved with why the spot is significant. However, they are only engraved in Polish and Hebrew. If you don't read either one, you're sort of left out of the experience.

The main problem I had with the walk was that the ghetto is gone. There's nothing much to see. But on top of that, there was no real hook to draw me into the whole experience. I couldn't even read the monuments. I was made to depend on my scant knowledge of the war and the uprising, plus whatever help the guidebook could give. I know, poor me. I'm a white Protestant American male and I feel all left out. Boo hoo. I'm just sayin'.

The part of that walk that I found the most moving was the Umschlagplatz Monument, which is where people were loaded into boxcars and shipped off to death camps. It's designed to be in the shape of a boxcar. Now that's a well-designed monument. The walk as a whole, however, was a bit disappointing. Granted, they don't have much to work with since most of the buildings were leveled, but most of it didn't speak to me the way other monuments like this have.

The site of the Pawiak Prison was also well done. Again, it's empty space. There were not any tourists (except us) around. It's just these monuments in the middle of a neighborhood. It would be interesting to live near one of these and see it every day. I like that they didn't build anything where the prison was. It's just a gated off space. On the other side of the wall that is on the right in this photo is a tree.
Fred and I discussed whether or not the tree was real. It's definitely not alive. But it looks like fiberglass to me. There are obituaries nailed to it. It's a nice addition to the whole prison monument.
One thing I liked in Berlin and that I liked here - and there's even one here in Amsterdam - is a line in the ground where the wall used to be. In Warsaw, it's the Ghetto Wall. I tell you, spending a whole day reading about the havoc wreaked by the Nazis was disturbing. We walked towards a piece of the wall that is standing, but got turned around and ended up missing it. We didn't go back. My feet were killing me.

When the walk down the Pat was over, we walked back to the hotel past these lovely buildings. Big gray buildings. Fred said that the EU is sending Poland a lot of money. I said, "Just send paint." Everything is so gray. It's just cinder block gray buildings.

Street after street. It's everything you would expect a place like this to be. It was not the prettiest side of Warsaw.Then there was this sign - the one with the girl. I have no idea what it means. Yeah, probably children playing, but what's she holding? Is that a lollipop? A balloon?

When we got back from Istanbul, my friend Venessa read my posts and said, "Well, I can see you didn't enjoy it." We did. We just weren't...taken with it - like she was. That's sort of how I feel about Warsaw. We enjoyed it, but then there's this whole cloud hanging over the city with the history and with how cut off it felt.

Oh well. Tomorrow is churches and other architecture - and a bit about the food.

Warsaw Recap - 1 of 3

2009-05-03T13:01:00.002+02:00

One of the advantages of blogging every day is that not every post has to be fabulous. It just has to be. Another is that I can draw things out a bit. Thus, this will be the first of three posts recapping our recent weekend in Warsaw.

I'll start by saying that I enjoyed it the trip as a whole, but that I don't think either one of us were blown away. (Part of this was that after he booked the trip, Fred heard the Kraków would have been the better choice.) However, we saw some new stuff, saw some stuff (very much like stuff) we'd seen before, and we have now changed the Warsaw pin in our world map from white (trips we'd like to take or that we have planned) to red (places we've been together.) The white pin went immediately to Kiev, by Fred's decree. By the way, the mermaid at the top is the coat of arms of Warsaw.
I've divided our tour up into three posts. This first post is about Old Town and New Town. It's easy enough to write about the Old Town - and the New Town - because they're so darn cute. They've been restored or rebuilt or transformed into everything you want a little Eastern European city to be. If you were just staying for a day or two, it would be a great area to stay in because being there would bookend your day. We stayed a little further out, which was fine.

We approached Old Town by coming across the square in the photo above. After walking the long avenue (not such a chore), we rounded a corner and saw the square. Seeing it made me really happy. It's got that old feeling with the quaint houses all painted up in various earth tones. Totally cute and worth the price of admission. (No, you don't actually have to pay admission; it's just an expression.)
While we were there, they had a big military thing where they were marching around. May 3 is the anniversary of the Constitution of Poland and there was a lot of stuff going on that had to do with that the whole weekend. Most notably, closed shops on Saturday.

The square in the New Town is totally cute. There are outside restaurants and people selling things. There are a lot of shops around the square. One thing about these shops that I noticed is that they are filled to the brim with lots of little things. They have multiples of thimbles and figurines and postcards, etc. Doing inventory in one of those stores would be horrible. There's also lots of authentic really old Polish stuff to buy - if that's your thing.

We also spotted some carved handicrafts. Old Jewish men were a popular subject. And speaking of carving/sculpture, there is lots of this kind of thing around...

There are other details that give the square lots of charm.

They're definitely trying to convey the Eastern European charm of Warsaw in better times - i.e. pre-WW2. The colors and music on the square made it a nice place to sit. Of course that means that it was flooded with people. However, it never felt totally crowded or claustrophobic. Maybe it wasn't that bad because tourism is down a bit. But I heard several American voices. I was surprised at how many. I wouldn't think this would be where a lot of Americans wanted to put their tourist dollars. There was some very interesting art on sale in around the square. We bought a small print.
Right next to the Old Town was the Monument to the Insurgents of the Warsaw Uprising. It's large and imposing. It's sort of impressive in terms of its design, but the artist in me didn't love it. It was sort of stiff and cold. I sort of missed that whole Warsaw Uprising story when I was in history class. Fred missed taking a picture of the whole thing because he was trying to take really artsy shots. (The basic documentation photos are usually my department, but I forgot the smaller camera.) So here's one I found.

While Warsaw's Old Town and New Town are both cute and worth a visit, they are not all there is to the EU's eighth largest city. There's much more, which I will cover tomorrow and Tuesday. By the way, the exchange rate was one euro to 4.39 PLN or złoty.

Yes, an entire weekend of doing math in my head! We were surprised at how affordable it was. We had a couple of very nice dinners for less than we thought we would have to pay. I wonder how prices will change when the euro finds its way to Poland.

Last Day in Warsaw

2009-05-02T23:04:00.003+02:00

While we were at the bar getting our "welcome drink" - on the night before we leave - Fred said, "There's no seats. Let's sit next to the whore." A little later, a woman starts talking to us and it turns out she's from Texas. She works in IT at some bank, and has lived here for seven years! And it turns out that the other woman really was a whore. Who knew?

Fred.

Did lots of walking today. Saw lots. We saw lots of the Old Town and the New Town today. We toured the castle, which was overrun with school children - and it turns out that the whole thing is reconstructed because the Germans blew up the real one during the war! Who knew?

Looking forward to getting home tomorrow. I'll write more about the trip later.

Warsaw

2009-05-01T22:43:00.002+02:00

Fred and I are on the road for the weekend. Just a long weekend in Warsaw. Our friend, Dalia, is watching the apartment. She wanted to sell (on Queen's Day) in a better neighborhood than she currently lives in, so she's is holding down the fort for us while she does her thing.

Meanwhile, we are walking ourselves silly. We didn't wake up today until about 11:00, which was fine with me because I knew Fred would be go-go-go as soon as he woke up. We walked for about eight hours before finally sitting down to eat. But according to Fred, "Well...we sat for an hour or so with the coffee breaks, so it wasn't really eight hours." Tell that to my feet.

You can really tell that Warsaw was under someone's thumb for a long time. Lots of gray concrete and the trams - like in the picture above - are really old. Of course we haven't ridden one because we have to walk everywhere. Seen some interesting stuff. I'll elaborate when I'm not in the lobby of a hotel.

Queen's Day Ads

2009-04-30T21:14:00.000+02:00

I amsterdam is the marketing campaign that does the whole tourist promotion thing for Amsterdam. It's very I heart NY, but sort of a bad rip off. I don't hate it. I like it in a way. It's memorable and the logo is nice to see. I don't know a lot about it except that it seems like a cute idea that people aren't really buying into. There's a whole article about the campaign on Expatica.

Anyway, they've been promoting Queen's Day with posters like the one above. I recognized the guy on the right. That's the French president - Nicolas Sarkozy. I knew the face of the other guy, but it turns out he's the Italian Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi.

There are other posters around that I haven't seen. There's one of Barack Obama and Russian Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin holding hands and wearing "Kiss Me I'm Drunk" T-shirts.

And there's one featuring Hillary Clinton.

I heard the one of Hilary Clinton was photoshopped. And the Obama one was removed from the campaign.

While the campaign is cute, I don't know who in the world it's aimed at. It's not the people who live here. People who live here sort of already know about it. And visitors to our fair city who might be here and see the posters...does anyone expect them to stick around or return in hopes of seeing Mr. Sarkozy in a boa?

Maybe they're trying to draw people to Amsterdam from other cities in the Netherlands. I don't know. Maybe these posters are all over the world. I only know.

Queen's Day always makes me think of Sally. She loved Queen's Day. I miss her a lot, but all I have to do is think of seeing her on Queen's Day and it brings a smile to my face. I don't think she'd love the campaign, but she'd think they were cute. Happy Queen's Day!

Bezet!

2009-04-29T19:52:00.005+02:00

Tomorrow is Queen's Day and the sidewalks are being marked up. People are using chalk and different kinds of tape to mark their spots. I have heard that in a parallel universe where the world is ruled by dogs, the Dutch dogs just pee on their spot and they don't get all the visual mess of the writing that we have here.

There are a variety of ways that people mark their spot.

My favorite is chalk. Last year, some kids chalked up the front of the building every day for a week and the super of the our building washed it down every morning. I think it's the least offensive. But the little bit of rain we've had recently has caused problems for people who use chalk. Pity.

Another option is tape. On Sunday we saw some people out front writing their names in tape. Unfortunately for them, it was packing tape. They spent a while putting it down, but I thought it was a little early, so I ripped it up. They came back yesterday and put their names back using duct tape this time. I left it alone. Sunday was just too early. It was offensive.

Apparently someone had already started the party.

My favorite is the combination. I just saw it this year. I could rip up this tape, but it's still there. I like that. Think ahead. They're prepared for the super of the building or me.

Another thing I notice this year - but has probably been going on for years - is the sign. All along the street there are civilized signs. This one says "The area in front of 152 is reserved for the residents." Bezet, by the way, means "Occupied."

The worst thing I saw today on my walk was where someone had squirted some kind of paint or ink on the sidewalk in an effort to mark their spot. It was in front of the wine store. The guy was out there scrubbing it down with a straw broom and lots of soap and water. I can't imagine how angry I would be. I went by later and it was cleaned up. I hate seeing paint on a sidewalk - where there's been a spill or something - it just creeps me out.

I've decided that two days before is enough to mark your spot. We weren't here for Queen's Day last year, but it seems to me that the lead up to it is less than it was in previous years.

Fred says that every time he sees an adult marking a spot it makes him look at them differently. He sees it as a very "kid" thing to do. Of course he doesn't like anything second hand and can't imagine why anyone would. He's like that. I always bring something home when we go out on Queen's Day. I'm like that.

Another Very Warm Hat

2009-04-28T22:03:00.002+02:00

In my never ending slog through "knitting techniques that I just never happened to learn," I found an excellent explanation of how to do "traveling jogless stripes" and I am doing some of those stripes on my current Very Warm Hat. I am just crazy about the Very Warm Hat. It's full of lots of stuff that I like. (And slog is not really what I meant. It's knitting. How can it be a slog?)

The main drawback is that it's mostly stockinette. The advantage is that it's mostly stockinette and I can do that blindfolded. I've watched television while making this hat. I've held eye contact during a conversation. I've even read a little bit. Love that.

I also like the decrease I did. I didn't do the decrease that the lady Ms. Zimmerman does in The Opinionated Knitter. I did a straighter decrease (SSK, K3, K2tog every other round). I think it looks neater and I'm not so fold of the swirling decrease all the time.

And while it was sort of a pain to pick up the stitched all the way around the cast-on edge, I like they way it looks. You can see it in the picture pretty clearly, but that's where the fold is.

What I really really like is that both of these are yarns I dyed. I think they go well together. Very autumny. The colors they are in the photo is a lot lighter than the actual color of the yarn, but they're just as nice together. It depends on how big it ends up being as to whether or not I keep it. And when it's finished, I'll need to do something that's not stockinette in the round.

Beschuit and Race Relations

2009-04-27T17:49:00.004+02:00

I recently wrote about the beschuit as a phenomenon among my students. The beschuit bought in the supermarkets here are mass-produced and tasteless. I'll eat them if they're in the apartment, but I don't really go out and find them. They're mostly a vehicle for whatever is on them and they're difficult to eat with little pay off. However, my friend, Ann, told me about some really good fresh baked beschuit. And the last time Ann and I had coffee, we swung by the bakery to pick some up.

These are not just the best beschuit ever; they are the best versatile crunchy bakery treat around. They're buttery and crunchy and a little uneven, so there's visual appeal. They're good alone or with jam or peanute butter or cheese or anything. I ate a whole sleeve during the course of a day.

The name of the bakery is Brood. It's at Zeedijk 66 in Amsterdam.

We'd met initially at De Bakkerswinkel. We tried the one on the Warmoesstraat. It's got a nice look to it, but it feels a little "close," as my friend, Dalia, would say. Ann and I had a coffee and talked a bit before moving on. We ended up sitting on a terrace by the water and in the sun. It was a beautiful day last week.

Then at the birthday party yesterday, they served a pastry called the moorkop. It's basically a puff pastry with chocolate on the top and topped with whipped cream. I assumed the inside would be a vla or pudding. It was whipped cream, which I found sort of disappointing. I wanted an eclair and I got a lot of whipped cream - good whipped cream, but not vla or pudding.

On our way home, Fred and I talked about our choice of pastry. (He'd chosen the Duch apple pie.) He said that he never chose the moorkop because he didn't like all the whipped cream. It's a well-known pastry, apparently, that was not covered in Inburgering class. The name, moorkop, according to Fred, means "the head of a black man."

I said, "You people really still call something the head of a black man?"

"It's just a name," he said.

I hear ya. I just don't think that the PC police in the US - especially NYC - would be okay with serving the head of a black man at a bakery. And that's sort of where I'm coming from. This place has a very different history, in terms of race relations, from the US. Most people don't hear things like that in the same way I do. Maybe it's just a knee-jerk thing for me. Hopefully, I can adjust.

Three Quarters of a Century

2009-04-26T11:10:00.004+02:00

I saw this drawing on the sidewalk the other day. It immediately reminded me of my mother. Maybe it was the blue hair. Her hairdresser over did it one time with the "blue-in" - what's that stuff called? If you use just a little, it takes the yellow out of the hair and makes it look clean and white.

My mother happens to have been born in the same city on the same day as Carol Burnett, which I thought was a pretty big deal when I was growing up and Carol Burnett was a big name. By the way, that city was San Antonio, Texas. My grandparents lived in Charlotte, Texas at the time.

This afternoon we went to Haarlem to a birthday party for Fred's brother-in-law. On the way, we noticed a couple of shops that are open. One was a butcher. It had a sign out front advertising Nieuwe Warme Paarden Worst. That's New Warm Horse Sausage in English. It always makes me pause when I see that. I can accept it. I would even try it...in the right context.

Then at the party they were passing around little snacks while we stood and drank our drink of choice: wine, beer, soda, juice, etc. On one of the plates, one of the snacks was a piece of meat (I presumed it was ham) around a quarter of boiled egg (sliced lengthwise) and the other was a sausage wrapped around a quarter of a pickle. I chose the sausage-pickle combo. There was a lot of other stuff as well.

I commented to Fred later that I would have preferred the ham, but I didn't want the boiled egg. He said, "That wasn't ham. That was horse meat. That's a traditional hors-d'oeuvre."

I said, "...really..."

Apparently, Haarlem has a little history with horse meat. I've said it before, so I know I'm repeating, but Fred said there was a really good horse butcher in Haarlem when he was growing up. And Fred didn't grow up in the 1700's. That was the 1960's.

There's something barbaric about eating horses. (Does the name Fury, National Velvet or Black Beauty ring a bell?) Fred has a couple of friends who won't eat "anything you can pet." It's a rather ambiguous category, in my opinion. For instance, they won't eat lamb or goat and they won't eat duck. I can see petting a lamb or goat, but who pets a duck? They'll eat chicken. To me, chickens are much more accessible for petting than ducks.

They'll eat beef - and I've told stories about cows being faithful pets. And I think they'll eat pork. (Charlotte's Web - just sayin'). Of course they won't eat cat or dog, but it's a mushy rule to me. Anyway, it only affects Fred and me when we have them to dinner and we can't make some nice lamb dish Fred heard about.

My mother will eat all meats - except crazy ones. She's very Texan and enjoys meat, but she's particularly fond of sushi these days. She's spending a quiet evening at my sister's house this evening. Happy Birthday, Mom.

Petal Dropping

2009-04-25T20:06:00.007+02:00

The only bad thing about this time of year when all the trees are blooming and the city is filled with color is that it only lasts a few weeks. I don't know why it has hit me like it has this year, but I'm completely obsessed with the blossoms on all the trees. These are two of my favorites - above. It's not the best picture because it was late in the day. And they're a little past their prime, but I love seeing them. They look great from any angle. I'd go up and take one during the day, but there's a flower seller right under the tree and I'm a self-conscious photographer.

All these flowers remind me of when I was living in Brooklyn one spring in an old neighborhood, being the house keeper to a gay couple (that's a whole novel right there). There were a lot of rhododendron bushes in the neighborhood. I think they were rhododendrons. But they were absolutely beautiful that spring with all the pinks and reds and whites covering these well-manicured bushes.

I'm sorry that the petals are all falling off the trees now. I don't remember this from my years in NYC or growing up in Texas. It's something I associate with Amsterdam. Maybe I'm wrong. But my focus was not on flowering trees until I got here.

New growth on all of the trees is nice too. Sometimes I stand on a bridge and look out like this and I'm amazed that this is where I live. It's so beautiful in the Center - and there are plenty of tourists, if you like that sort of thing. We were amazed at the number of tourists walking around today.
Here's another very Amsterdam photo. Fred took both of these today. We keep looking for white asparagus because it's supposed to be in season. Aller Hande has some nice recipes Fred wants to try. Tonight, we had to go with our alternate: bloemkool - cauliflower - in a curry. We bought the box set of The Wire so we can have something to get addicted to and there won't have to be discussion about what to watch in the evenings. As Fred was pondering it, I said, "Terry Gross loves it - and she's smart." I'm not sure if that helped, but if I had said that another favorite had said they liked it, it would have been back on the shelf and we'd been out the door. Fred doesn't like them.

Red Onion Skins

2009-04-24T19:35:00.000+02:00

On Wednesday, I decided to take all of the red onion skins that I'd been saving and try dyeing a small skein of wool that I had.

We had a lot of red onion skins because we had some people to dinner and we made a Red Onion Tarte Tartin. It was just a matter of baking the sliced onions with some herbs for half an hour and then putting them on little individual baking tins with some dough over it. You serve it by flipping the whole thing over so that the dough (now crust) acts like a little bowl. Top the whole thing off with some bits of goat cheese. I liked it a lot, but the only comment was, "What kind of cheese is this?" (You don't repeat a recipe like that unless you really need to.)

So there I am with all these onion skins (about 20 grams all together - just the papery outer layers) when I had a free afternoon. I boiled up a couple of liters of water, put in a dash of vinegar and then threw in the onion skins. I simmered them for about an hour. I could see the water was a really nice red wine color. I scooped out all of the onion skins I could and then dropped in the pre-soaked wool. The wool was a pale yellow superwash. I'd dyed most of it before, but I need a little more to finish something and I don't like this yellow - although I've been told my a neutral party that it's a fine yellow.

I let the wool simmer for about an hour. I could tell it had taken up a lot of color, and was taking up more the longer it sat there. I threw in another small hank of some boring gray superwash that I'd bought years ago. After another half hour, I took them out of the water and let them cool. I rinsed them and put them outside to dry for a while.

The color is really nice - it's a little richer than it looks in this picture. I really like it that it all came from onion skins. It makes me want to collect white onion skins, red onion skins, scallion skins and garlic skins and do some experimenting with dyeing. In my fantasy experiment, of course, everything is the same - the only thing that changes is the type of skin. I'm curious about other food or kitchen products and dyeing with them. We'll see.

I promised someone some 4 x 4 green squares. I have to get on that little project. Looks like I've got an agenda for this weekend's knitting.

Making Them Talk

2009-04-23T21:17:00.004+02:00

So much of my job involves getting people to talk. It's amazing to me how much of the time I spend talking to people and taking notes - and getting paid for it. And sometimes I repeat a lot of the same lines and tell the same stories, which I think is completely permissible in situations like this job. Years ago, I heard Jerry Seinfeld talk about telling the same story over and over (like during a stand up routine) and making it sound new every time. I did that a lot today.

I can't stand when I hear someone tell the same story over and over. Years ago, I worked with a woman who would do that. She'd have a fabulous story and go through the hallway door to door telling her story to every one individually - in the same way. She even used the same pauses and inflections every time. It was like she was trying to perfect the story by rehearsing it to each member of the staff.

I worked with another woman (Petra, I'll call her) who came by my office one day and told me a terrible story and then made me promise that I wouldn't tell anyone. I kept my promise because it was such a terrible story. But then a second colleague mentioned something about Petra and I realized that Petra had told her the story too. And the second colleague said, "Oh please. She also told Dan and Jackie and Joanne." I said, "Who would tell such a terrible story once - much less five times...or more."

But I digress.

One of my jobs today was to do nine twenty-minute interviews and assess the level of English of each of the prospective students. I found out during one of the last interviews that the earlier ones had been talking to the later ones. I had been afraid of that and I was switching it up and constantly asking different things, taking the interview into different directions. It also helped to keep me interested.

Some people are so easy to talk to. There is an immediate connection and lots to talk about. But at the end, a woman came in and I knew immediately which group I would put her in and what I would write about her and I was sort of finished with her in about two minutes. But I had to sit and talk to her for another ten minutes. (And the entire conversation did nothing but confirm what I had already decided.)

During the first part of the almost four-hour marathon, I felt like I was right there, asking questions, remembering something they said and referring back to it, etc. I was on point. Then with the last woman I just stopped and I couldn't think of anything to say. Apparently, I had reached my limit. Fortunately it was time to go. And I don't have to go to work tomorrow!

By the way, my friend, Patty, is being operated on tomorrow. So think "good health and recovery" and send it to her now, please. I talked to her yesterday. She assured me she'll be fine, and I believe her.

No Disc Inserted

2009-04-22T23:03:00.003+02:00

I feel like I have nothing to say today. I'm completely without an idea. Usually something comes to me during the day or a couple of ideas will come that will last me for a couple of days . I thought about writing about how many hats I've been casting on recently. I have three on the couch with me. Then I decided to not.

Maybe I'm just having an off day. I spent a number of hours today editing something that I'd written. Maybe my brain is a little burned out from that. All I want to do now is knit. It's a quiet evening at home alone.

The Twitter of Oz

2009-04-21T22:41:00.005+02:00

I had three student 'contacts' today. All of them were individual adults. Two were lessons and one was a half hour intake. It may be immodest of me to say it, but at the end of the day I looked back and said to myself, "I think all three of those people had a good time during their lesson/intake." I think it's important to have a good time. Sometimes I leave a lesson and I feel like I'm covered in goo, like some bad energy from the room is all over me and I need a bath - not today.

My general way of being with students is to be encouraging and positive. "You'll be fine," I say. "You're making good progress." Of course it has to be true, but the two regular students I had today really are making good progress and I told the intake he'd be fine because I think he will be when he starts talking and getting used to talking. He's like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. He just needs someone to sit with him and constantly put oil on his jaw until it's loosened up and he can speak with some fluidity.

Sometimes in an intake I'll say, "Have you ever seen The Wizard of Oz?...No?...That's okay. Well, there's this one character, the Tin Man..." What's more important? That they understand my analogy or that I get to talk? Exactly!

It's amazing to me how few Dutch folks have seen The Wizard of Oz. They've heard of it or seen parts of it or sort of know the story. That's shameful.

My sister, Kathy, is having trouble figuring out Twitter. Hey, me too! I can do very Twitter basic stuff, like post, and reply to other people, but that's about it. I decided to only follow people I even sort of give a crap about. So, of course, I'm following Kathy, but I'm also following Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore - because they are like the king and queen of Twitterland. And I'm following Oprah, Brenda Dayne, Rachel Maddow, Ana Marie Cox, Louise Robertson and Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. All the big names. (There are also some very nice people I actually know. I just like dropping names.)

And Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is following me, which I'm sure she did out of Twitter-pity because she doesn't know me from Adam. Somehow Levar Burton showed up on my feed. And Tony Robbins came with the welcome package.

Twitter is such a strange thing. It's almost like Second Life, which is a crack vile I never opened. But I think it's less toxic than a lot of things. The problem is that there's so much lingo and there are all these abbreviations. I've got to figure it out so I can run with the big dogs.

Or not.

I meant to swing around and connect my lessons today with Twitter and I can't do it. Is there a Twitter for Dummies online somewhere?

An Evening of Dutch Humor

2009-04-20T22:55:00.006+02:00

This evening Fred and I went to see a show at the Carré with his friends, Leo and Michiel. We saw The Ashton Brothers. Here's a little clip that's not what they were doing tonight, but it gives you a taste of the type of thing they do. I don't think they're really brothers.

I had planned to see a Dutch theater thing this year, and then this came up. It wasn't theater at all, in terms of a story line or that we could follow anything. It was mostly acrobatics and visual illusion stuff. (At one point, there was a screen that was about four feet high and they had some wheelchairs and they did some funny stuff with that.) They also did some quick costume changes, which I'm always fascinated with.

The Ashton Brothers are musicians and singers and they definitely do the whole Dutch humor thing. However, it was not as annoying as some Dutch humor can be - to me. Fred picked this group because there weren't a whole lot of words involved in the show. It was a lot of physical humor. The three Dutch guys I was with laughed a lot more than I did.

If I were really PC and offended by a lot of stuff, I would say that a portion of the humor is based on making fun of the mentally challenged and a larger portion of it might give one the impression that it's okay to abuse people in wheelchairs. However, I'm not offended by it. I just don't think it's that funny.

Fred said something about vaudeville when we were leaving the apartment and that was good because it gave me a reference for that broad comedy where someone drops something on stage and then the mug the audience really slowly. Very slapstick. It was sort of how I Love Lucy looks to me now. There's very little subtlety.

I sometimes wonder if I'll ever be able to enjoy what passes for Dutch humor. When comedians talk, they generally speak too quickly and it's filled with idioms and expressions that I'm not familiar with. Plus, they're talking about things I either don't know about or things that don't "tickle my funny bone" the right way. But it's mostly the visual part that - I'll go ahead and say it - offends me. It's broad and looks amateurish, or it seems like someone who is just doing their shtick.

I'll continue to try. I'll be here for a while. Maybe I need a class to be able to understand it.

Zaanse...not

2009-04-19T21:33:00.001+02:00

Fred and I decided yesterday that we would ride out to Zaanse Schans today. I haven't been there since my initial trip to the Netherlands and I am always good for a little touristy taste of my new country. So we dressed and printed out maps and had our shoes on when Fred said, "I have an idea."

"Do you?" I replied.

"Why don't we not go to Zaanse Schans today. It's so far away. We should have started earlier."

"Where do you want to go?"

"How about Monnickendam?"

"Sure," I said. I had no idea what he was talking about; in fact, I thought he was saying Monica-dam, which he sort of was saying. We got on our bikes and headed North.

This is a picture of the dike we rode on. When we'd just gotten on the dike, I asked, "Are we going to ride to the end of this?" (There are occasional turn offs.)

He said, "No." (Was that an intentional misrepresentation?)

"How far away is this place?"

"Thirteen kilometers," he said.

Not wanting to appear uneducated, I nodded and thought to myself, Is a kilometer longer than a mile or shorter? And by how much?

Long story short, it took us two hours from walking out our door to arriving at the back door of Monnickendam. Riding along the dike was difficult because of the wind. Fred rode ahead and I eventually decided to take out my ipod and listen to something as I trudged along. That was work. This is our third long bike ride this week and it was definitely the hardest ride - because of that wind.

Monnickendam is a cute little village. However, nothing was open except for places to eat, so we just got something to eat. It was also looking like rain, so we decided to truncate our visit (we'll go back on a day when the village is open) and head back the short way - knocking off five of those mysterious kilometers in the process.

It was really overcast and the light was beautiful. You can't tell so much from these snaps, but everything was a really beautiful green. What you can tell from these pictures is that this is a really flat country. But I'm cool with flat.

As it is spring, there were lots of little baby animals. Lots of geese with their goslings all in a pack. I looked at these large groups and wondered how in the world these mother geese were able to pick out their goslings at the end of the day from the other geese's goslings. Similarly, I've seen a whole school let out and mothers recognize their children immediately out of all the children streaming out of the school. Amazingly, at the end of the day, they bring the same children home that they dropped off in the morning. Life is full of mysteries.

Watching baby lambs play is something I hope everyone is able to do at some point. They jump around and chase each other, like puppies or children. It's just beautiful.

And then they turn into this - a beautiful, but less playful type of animal. I've felt more of a connection to sheep since I started knitting again. What's crazy is that their wool is so thick and dirty while they're wearing it. And then it gets turned into yarn. I fantasized last week about organizing a collective that shears, processes, spins and manufactures Dutch yarn. It's an overwhelming idea. I put that one to bed pretty quickly.

There are also a lot of cows out in the country. I feel a slight connection to cows because my father had cows when we were growing up. Not a herd, but one now and again. He had a cow named Button that he bought to raise for beef. But he got too connected to Button and just kept her as a pet. She eventually died - many years later - of a brain tumor. That's the sort of thing I think of when I think of my father. He's always put his heart before a business decision.

This was our last bike trip for a bit. I have a few other outings I'd like to do, and Fred just found a couple of bike excursions he wants to take, but no long bike trips for a week or so. I'm more physically exhausted tonight than I've been in a long time.

I Like Being Married

2009-04-18T22:25:00.005+02:00

Fred and I will be married seven months tomorrow. It'll be a normal day. We're going for a long bike ride since it'll be nice weather. We cleaned house today and then we ran some errands, ending up at a movie and then going out to eat dinner. We have a nice life. Marriage has been good for us.

Sometimes people ask me how I like being married. I always say that it's good. I like it. I really do feel more connected to Fred than I did when we were just living together. But I felt more connected after we'd sat down and discussed it and decided to to it - so it wasn't the actual ceremony or legal document that did it. It was more the idea that someone wanted to spend the rest of his life with me - someone that I also wanted to spend all that time with.

For the most part, we just go to work and come home. On the weekends, we clean the house and cut each other's hair (okay, that's pretty gay - but they're both buzz cuts) and then we run around doing errands or shopping. We go on vacation or do local things like bike to the bulb fields. It's what I imagined marriage to be like. It's swell.

When I was just a young gay lad, the idea of me getting married never crossed my mind. It was an interesting idea, but it wasn't anything that I really thought about because it wasn't something that was done - anywhere. (Sort of like how some students asked me three years ago if I ever thought the US would have a Black president. I said, "Well...maybe some day...but...")

Now folks will be able to get married in Vermont (September 1, 2009) and in Iowa (April 27, 2009). And even in Sweden (May 1, 2009.) These are amazing times we're living in. I like progress. I'm all for it.

I just saw something on Countdown with David Shuster that was a clip from The Colbert Report that was a spoof of a hateful commercial put out by the National Organization for Marriage. The link to the whole show is here. The commercial is near the beginning of the show. I am so tired of bigoted, prejudiced people that I could just spit.

Alastair just sent a clip of Keith Olberman doing a Special Comment after Prop 8 was passed in California. (Special Comment is code for "if this is aimed at you, you better put on some asbestos underwear") Mr. Olberman is very dramatic and is sometimes a bit over the top, but he's right on the money in this clip - and if you haven't seen it, you ought to take a look. He goes on and on about how utterly stupid it is to be opposed to same sex marriage.

It's true. It is.

Good Thoughts and Caged Birds

2009-04-17T23:04:00.005+02:00

When I got out of graduate school in 1994, I got a job in a hospital in one of the ghettos of Brooklyn (Bedford-Stuyvesant/ Crown Heights). I was working with a lot of poor Black folks for the first time. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't have school stuff that I needed to read. So I decided to start reading a lot of novels that I had missed in my education. And many of the books I chose were also Black authors - because a lot of the patients were Black and I thought it might be helpful.

One of the first books I read was I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. That set me to reading the rest of her books, none of which is the crazy best seller that the first was. But they're all good. They are her life story, which has sort of been like Forrest Gump in that she's met a lot of people and was in just the right spot to meet a lot of people during the Civil Rights Movement. Reading her books also put her in my radar and - as these things are wont to do - I started seeing her on tv. (These were the days before the Internet - before me on the Internet anyway.) She's pretty good for a quotable quote. I used a lot of her poetry with the patients and they loved her.

Maya Angelou loves Oprah and Oprah loves Maya. I saw her on Oprah a couple of times in those days. One day she was talking about something going on in the world. She was talking about sending positive energy to it. It might not have even been a specific problem. She asked everyone to say a prayer, "and if you don't pray, think a good thought," she said.

I thought that was nice to include everyone. Not everyone prays. My parents are big prayers and I pray a good amount, but not everyone does, and I think it's important to get as much good energy as possible flowing around, in what ever form people are willing or able to do.

My dear friend, Patty, is ill. She's going to be fine, but she's ill and it's on my mind a lot. Patty and I have been friends since high school - which was a long time ago. She's the Grace to my Will. She's the yin to my yang. She's where I go to every Thanksgiving. She my heart - as they used to say in the ghetto. It's hard to write about how important she is to me. The world needs more people like Patty. I wish everyone had a friend like her.

So I'm asking you, if you pray, to say a prayer for Patty. And if you don't pray, think a good thought. She's in good hands, but good energy is good energy. Send it up. It'll get where it need to go.

Our Day at the Keukenhof

2009-04-16T21:27:00.011+02:00

We got to the Keukenhof yesterday about 12:30. The front gate, as I reported yesterday, was a mob scene - a geriatric mob scene, Fred insists. Lots of white hair, including our own. Logically, you think, who else is going to go to a garden on a Wednesday afternoon? Of course it's a bunch of retirees. And there were lots of people in wheelchairs. Some, of course, were the geriatrics, but not all. There were also families, people under retirement age, and French and German tourists. But we stood in line so long to get tickets that the number of older people (our companions for the wait) made a big impression.

Speaking of the line we stood in, we were in it for about forty-five minutes. It was a mess. There was one cashier, then two, then finally three, but the line crept along. Fred swore off ever visiting again because of it. People pushing and breaking the line to get from one place to another. It was a pain and it really tried his nerves. If only there had been a way to buy tickets online. If only. If only.

Today, Fred came across a coupon for €1,50 off a ticket (normally €13,50) and a website address to get tickets online. (Being 65 only got you €,50 off the price of a ticket.) Similarly, his sister, Vera, told him that Wednesday is the day De Zonnebloem takes the geriatrics and disabled people (differently-abled, one might say) to the Keukenhof. Oh. Learning is fun isn't it?

The theme this year is the 400 year anniversary of Holland's relationship with America. There were some things here and there, but it didn't really come across to me that they'd done a lot. One thing that was interesting were the billboards. One for each of the five boroughs of NYC. Look at Queens in 1910.
There was also a bed of flowers that was meant to look like...the head of the Statue of Liberty. You can see it if you know what it is, but they should have had a platform you could go up so get a view of it. Pity.
The thing that struck me was how big the place was. There are beds of flowers and flowers in long lines. Most of it is neatly and artfully done. They must have an army of gardeners constantly trimming and plucking. Again, some flowers were not quite out and some have obviously bloomed and gone already. There was a signs that tried to keep people on the sidewalks that said, "Please do not walk upon the grass." And upon the grass we did not walk.

Here's the requisite picture of Fred.

And one of me. There were beds of flowers all over the gardens and all of them were labeled. I've been to rose gardens where all of the roses are labeled. It's helpful. And sometimes the names are very interesting. There's a very orange, very standard tulip called the Willem-Alexander. Probably named for our crown prince.

There were also these, called the Plaisir. They're just red and white and look like a child's drawing. They were my favorite of the day. They don't look like much here, but I'm big on stripes.
While snapping these rows of hyacinths, these Japanese kids wouldn't move, so I had to take the picture with them in it. As Winnie Mattie would say, "That's the way it looked."

More beds of flowers. It's just endless flowers and people. We took lots and lots of pictures. I've heard about the Keukenhof for years, but I've never gotten any sense of what it looked like, so I'm probably overdoing it with the pictures. There are worse things.

Our new camera takes good pictures close up. Fred wants a new lens, but he doesn't know what he needs. I got him a photography class for his birthday. He'll enjoy knowing more about how to use the camera. I'm good with the smaller camera. These close up pictures scream "Old Queen" to me, but they're really pretty and it's difficult to not do it if your camera will do it.

In an interesting peek behind the curtain, we saw these two gardeners sticking little wires into the hyacinths in this bed - you know how top-heavy they get. I swear the whole place is constantly being kept up by neatly dressed people. It's sort of Disney-esque without the story book quality.
There were some swans in the lake. Swans are beautiful, but sort of mean. They always remind me of my father's second wife in that way - except she wasn't beautiful.

This is Fred's favorite picture of the day. The lighting and everything really worked out. It was such a lovely day. The whole time, I kept thinking of people who would enjoy being there. Apart from all the crowds (and it really could have been much worse), it was a very restful day.

We had a big breakfast and then we ate off carts while we were in the garden: a broodje Unox (hot dog), a hand scooped ice cream and a Belgian waffle. Lots of junk food and plenty of places to eat - even real food.

By the way, we rode our bike there, but you can take a bus and then rent a bike to go look at the tulip fields, if you fancy that. At any rate, you should go. It's important to see beautiful things.

A Day in the Bulb Fields

2009-04-15T22:30:00.003+02:00

Fred and I took the day off today to ride our bikes through the bulb fields and go to the Keukenhof. (There was no connection, but yesterday was Fred's birthday. And my niece, Allyssa turned 16 yesterday. So belated Happy Birthday to both of them.)

I'm in my sixth year of living here and I had never been to either the bulb fields or the Keukenhof. Seemed like a pity. Now we've done it. (Fred for the first time in 20 years or so.) The problem with the Keukenhof is that it's only up and blooming for two months of the year. So everyone has to go then. If you go on a weekend or holiday, that just compounds the throngs of people. Go on a week day. It was just Fred, me and a lot of white haired people. If you haven't had a day in the bulb fields or at the Keukenhof, regardless of where you live, you ought to go. It's really something. Even at the end of the day, we were stopping and saying, "Wow. Look at that!"

In case you're wondering the route we took, I'll tell you. We rode our bikes to Amsterdam Central Station (after rush hour) and took ourselves and the bikes to Haarlem Central Station. From there, we rode through the bulb fields to the Keukenhof. Fred's brother-in-law estimated that it would be a two-hour bike ride. (Later, I said, "Thank you for not telling me that.") It was more like an hour and fifteen minutes with lots of stops for taking pictures. You could probably do it in two hours if you were Nordic walking, a favorite pass time of Bart.

And while it was just riding the bike along very flat stretches of farm land and leisurely walking through the gardens, we were really tired when we got home, and it may be an early night. We were gone for twelve hours, and other than sitting down to eat breakfast and supper, we were moving the whole time. I'm going to write about the bulb fields here and the Keukenhof tomorrow.

I have to say that riding through the bulb fields on a bike - if you can - is the way to do it. You go at your own pace and you can ride where you want. I was sort of amazed that the fields were so open. Of course people are very respectful that these fields are someone's private property and someone's living, so it's not a problem. They just walk in, take a few snaps and leave.

This is a field of hyacinths. If you like the smell of hyacinths, this is the place for you. Of course, after a while, it's a little bit too much. It reminded me of Hershey, Pennsylvania. They say it smells like chocolate there all the time. Chocolate smell is nice for a while. Same with hyacinth smell. It smelled like an old lady who was wearing too much of a really flowery perfume. But it was beautiful - and I like hyacinth smell. It reminds me of Patty.

These are tulips. Orange tulips are not my favorite, but when there are thousands of them in a field, I like it. Some of the flowers on the route were in full bloom and some were not yet blooming. Still others had lost their bloom. I bet we could go back next week (we won't) and it would be really different. Incidentally, there are all kinds of flowers out there, not just tulips and hyacinths. We saw daffodils and a few other kinds of flowers. But I guess bulbs are really the point, huh?

I love seeing a farmer in his field. It doesn't seem like there would be a whole lot to do when your whole field is covered in flowers, but we saw a couple of farmers out walking the rows looking at something. Pests, maybe? How dry the soil is? We also saw a couple of guys in a field of dark tulips plucking out some white tulips that had gotten into the mix. They waved and asked if we wanted any. We did not, but a lady biker stopped and took a handful.

Before experiencing this first hand, I imagined that these fields would be all packed in together. They're definitely in the same area, but they're just speckled here and there, some small lots and some larger. There doesn't seem to be any method to what's growing where. But people live there and there are businesses. It's not just fields.

Not being a farmer and all, it didn't occur to me that the flowers in these fields are not for consumption (consumption here being defined as cutting and putting in a vase in your living room). Apparently (please correct me if I'm wrong) if you just let them grow and get through their whole life cycle, when they die back down, there are more bulbs. Propagation, I believe we call that. When I first heard that, I thought, I had no idea. It makes sense, but I hadn't thought of that. They probably do something with the stuff that's left over, right? I mean, it is the Netherlands. Check out the two purples in this photo.

It was just flowers and nature (and crowds) the whole day. (Well, the bulb fields had no crowds to speak of, but the Keukenhof was mobbed.) The sky in some of these pictures looks a little gray, but it was a beautiful, clear day the whole time.

Again, if you haven't done it, you should. The bulb fields should be on anyone's Things to See Before I Die list. It's worth the effort. Fred swears he won't go to the Keukenhof ever again, but I bet I'll get him to the bulb fields next year.

Note to Self

2009-04-14T18:06:00.007+02:00

If you put a bottle (or two) of wine (or any other beverage) into the freezer to get it cold quickly, set the timer. I've heard that alcohol doesn't freeze, but the alcohol content in wine is so low that it will freeze. My mother used to keep a water bottle in the freezer (for sprains and such) that was half rubbing alcohol and half water. The liquid got crunchy, but didn't freeze. It's a good idea. Use it as your own.

Look how the cork was pushed out when it froze. Full disclosure: when I put the sparkling water and the other two bottles of wine into the freezer to get cold fast, I set the timer. I love the kitchen timer. I use it all the time. My mother used to use it all the time,too. It's an excellent tool. Fred needs a little more convincing. Maybe this will do it. In other news, the wine didn't really seem to be affected by it's night in the freezer. We had a glass last night just to make sure.

In knitting, just finished a hat. This was just a dry run. It needs some adjustments here and there, but it's basically what I was going for. I wanted a baby hat that was more masculine than the baby hats currently on offer. I have another solution for the stem. Something that's sort of loop like, but different. You'll see soon.

Two things I'm really crazy about are the cables, which are pretty easy, and this nice purl gulf. There's a sort of a look that I'm after and this is pretty much it, although I'll be tinkering with it. And I think it'll wear differently on a real baby head. Shown here, it is being worn by one of my favorite vases, but it approximates the head of a child - if the child had a spout on the top of his/her head.

I think I got my decreases mixed up here, and I'd like them to not be so obvious. I took it to knitting last night and got some suggestions. But I like the look of the arches coming to a point like that. One thing I'm crazy about this yarn (GGH Merino Soft) is how the stockinette looks. See the twisted stitches and the line? I don't know why it does that, but I really like it. I was expecting the regulation stockinette V's, but I didn't get them. I got this, which I like a lot.

And lastly, it folds up into a little leafy looking thing, which is sort of sweet. Malia said that if I get a pattern written, it can go out with the free patterns Penelope Craft is going to offer in the Fall. That would be a nice resume builder, wouldn't it? I'll start adjusting this now. Maybe I'll do a man sized version as well. We'll see. Happy knitting.

Second Easter Day

2009-04-13T19:15:00.005+02:00

Fred and I took full advantage of Second Easter Day. We slept late, slowly cleaned up the kitchen after last night's dinner, and took a bike ride to North Amsterdam. Nothing pressing the whole day.

At one point, we were riding down a particular street that I thought looked really familiar. Fred said that he hadn't been there before, and I thought, Well, if he hasn't been here, how would I have been here? A lot of those little streets look ridiculously cute in the same way, so it's possible that I'd been down another ridiculously cute street that was similar to that one and I was getting them confused.

Then we rounded a corner and I said, "I've been here. I walked into that place looking for a sandwich and I ended up going in that snack shop and getting a berenhap with sate sauce and then caught a bus." Turns out I did a bunch of intakes at a company in North Amsterdam last autumn.

We spent most of our time today in North Amsterdam in Nieuwendam and Schellingwoude, which Fred deemed just like Volendam...but better. "So don't tell anyone," he said. "Keep it a secret."

On my first trip to Holland, we went to Volendam, which I knew even then was a city that had sold its soul to the tourism devil. Someone took a cute little village and then put up every little cheesy fast food and souvenir shop that will fit and then bussed tourists in to create the Volendam of today. (At least that's my memory of it.) It's sort of a sad place. People looking for a cute little village to walk around should save their film and tourist dollars and just spend some time in Nieuwendam or Schellingwoude. There are not as many souvenir shops (zero), but you can definitely find a place to sit in the sun and have enjoy the beverage of your choice. And it's totally what tourist look for.

Fred took some nice snaps while we were riding around today.

This is a cute little house we rode by. Surrounded by a canal. There was a lot of that going on. It's like some houses had moats.

There were a lot of streets like this. Rows of houses with a little road and a harbor across the street. It was like a postcard - see the top picture.

We also passed a field with sheep...three sheep. They were covered in thick, nasty wool. It was such a nice scene to come across. Very quiet, very country.

And we occasionally rode down a little street that led to a little culdesac with houses and sometimes a little church like this one. It was a very nice day. Did you notice how three of these pictures are landscapes with veering off to the right. Maybe that's Fred's style.

We took the ferry back, which was quick, easy and free. I'd never done it before. Such a nice day - and tomorrow I get my teeth cleaned at 8:30 and I have a class. Back to real life.

Easter Sunday

2009-04-12T23:50:00.002+02:00

I was growling like a sick dog all day today. Well...actually, I waited until church was over and then I became...cranky. For the record, I just hate being trapped in a mood like that.

Alastair and I always stay behind when the choir leaves the church at the end of the service. We are the designated clean up crew, and we enjoy it. It's just hauling books and folders to the closet, and neatening the place up. (The gays are good at that sort of thing.) But then everyone had decided to bring a glass of water and take one tiny sip out of it, so there were all these glasses to empty and get rid of. And the folders looked like there had been a sudden evacuation. Papers and books everywhere. And the line to get out of the church was a mile long. And I was wearing my nylon robe, which I couldn't take off because I was only wearing an undershirt (not a wife beater, a regulation T-shirt). Fortunately, Alastair keeps me in good humor. And Fred was there, so we could just stand and chat. Then after leaving the church, which was a fight because there were hundreds of tourists streaming in who wanted to see the inside of the church, the Center was crowded with more tourists.

Easter has never been one of my favorite holidays. Of course the meaning is important and the music is nice, but it's just not a holiday that turns my crank the way a holiday like Thanksgiving does. If you sat me down and said, "Relax...relax...okay...childhood Easter. Quick. Give me an image." It would be a half-eaten stale candy egg. One of those with a white sugary center and about a quarter inch of colored sugar all the way around. Those were so gross. There was nothing to them but sugar. Not even taste, really. Later on, we got M&Ms, which was nice of my mother. But still, I just think of stiff new clothes and a big dinner that didn't mean anything to me.

After standing and chopping and not being a very good conversationalist with Fred during our preparation for tonight's dinner, I was wound up like a towel you're trying to wring the water out of. That was me. Then the guests arrived and I said, "We could sit on the terrace!" We'd thought of that earlier, but we thought the weather was going to be bad. Once the terrace door was open, I was fine. It turned out to be a great evening.

The strawberry risotto was well received, although one woman announced that she doesn't like rice. (Rice? Seriously? So the trip you're planning to Thailand...never mind.) The Beef Stroganoff went over well, as did the asparagus and potatoes. (Fred expressed surprise that the potatoes went over so well. I said, "They're Dutch. Of course they liked the potatoes.") And Fred's cheesecake with a blueberry sauce (Guess who doesn't like blueberries either) was a wonderful end to the evening.

Now get out. (Just kidding...or am I?)

And once again, we're leaving the mess for the morning because it's late.

Our Holy Saturday

2009-04-11T20:34:00.003+02:00

We sat down at 8:15 this evening and I think it was the first time I had really sat down for any amount of time today. We were going from when we got up.

Fred made two cheesecakes today because he was testing out a recipe (for the second time). It worked beautifully and the second today one (the third in total) is for tomorrow. I was talking to a friend about it and he said, "Ooo! A good New York style cheesecake?"

I said, "No, it's got soft cheese, whipped cream and white chocolate and it goes in the refrigerator for a couple of hours."

He said, "Oh. Hmm. A Dutch cheese cake where it's sort of a pudding thing?"

I said, "Yeah..."

It's actually pretty good. It's not a mix. It is possible to screw it up. However, after three, we've pretty much got it down. And, apparently, there's a Dutch cheesecake. That's a new one.

On a completely different note, before we got started today, I was checking my Twitter account (because I'm so cool that I'm on Twitter - please read with heavy sarcasm). One of Rachel Maddow's last posts was about why she loves train stations. She linked to this video. It's completely beautiful.

I swear to you - when it ended, I was completely teared up. It took me several places. I recommend it.

In other news, I need to find some good people to follow on Twitter.

A Good Friday

2009-04-10T21:39:00.000+02:00

I spent the majority of the day on the computer organizing and trying to get rid of stuff - digital stuff. I managed to make some headway.

It was an amazingly beautiful day today. Of course I had the day off work, but I stayed indoors for the majority of it. However, I stepped outside a bit - on the balcony - and then I had a coffee date with a friend/colleague, which was nice. We sat outside on the street. I like the feeling of being out on the street at a small table with cars whizzing by. It's the kind of thing there wasn't enough of in NYC. There's a lot of it here, and it's mostly bikes that whiz by.

I had to be at church at 6:00 PM for the rehearsal for the music we sang in the service tonight. I decided to carry the camera along because I keep seeing things that would have been nice to have a picture of - if I'd have remembered the camera. On the way to church, I passed Museumplein. That's the Rijksmuseum in the background. Lots of people outside enjoying the weather.

These flowers are a little damaged from the wind, but there hasn't been a really great day when the sun was out, but I had free time to go out. This is Apollolaan, which is a nice little thing to pass on the way from here to there.

This was an interesting sight. I was glad I had the camera in my pocket. It hardly seems safe to drive a tram wearing a bunny suit, but I guess someone approved it - or they didn't know.

These last two are shots of the Begijnhof where my church is. It's a very sweet little out-of-the-way place. It's difficult to capture it in pictures. It was such a pretty day. Tourists are beginning to crowd the city.

My friend, Dorothy, said, "There are a lot of foreigners. It is terrible." She said that in English and used the word foreigners. I said, "I'm a foreigner." She said, "No, you live here." I know what she's talking about. Disparaging tourists is a favorite pass time of people who live in tourist cities.

new HAPPY red BIRTH hat DAY

2009-04-09T17:05:00.005+02:00

A week or so ago, I posted a picture of a hat I had knit with some Cascade 220 that I had dyed with some friends at a dyeing party. In short, I cooked it in cherry Kool-Aid, and then sprinkled on Grape Kool-Aid powder. It knit up really well. I like the color variations.

These are not the best pictures in terms of color. It's a nice red with less orange than is in these pictures. I like the pattern. It's called Sarah's Cabled Hat. It's not rocket science, but I didn't know how you made cables reduce like that until now. (I mean, I could have figured it out...)

And I put a little loop up there because I can't help myself. It's for a kid, or someone with a smaller head than me (...so that could be almost anybody.) I've dyed stuff a couple of times now and I always feel like I have to knit it up after I dye it. That said, we have another dyeing party coming up, so my aran sweater may continue to languish. The dyeing group is an intimate group, which is good in terms of the size of the kitchen. Too many people shuffling around there would be "crazy making," as Bad Barbara used to say.

Speaking of crazy making, today is my father's birthday. He is a very interesting fellow. A great guy. You'd love him. We don't get along. I love him and respect his conviction in what he believes, and I'm sure he loves me and feels the same about my convictions (well...maybe), but at this point in time, we have very limited communication, which is probably for the best. So happy 74th birthday, Dad! (I've heard his wife is an occasional reader.)

I'm getting quite a collection of baby/children's hats. I have to figure out what to do with them.

Eight Hours of What?

2009-04-08T21:14:00.005+02:00

I spent the greater part of the day organizing. It wasn't this particular little corner of my world. I got to that months ago. This one was in a closet, so it's easy to ignore it. And I didn't go nuts on it because there's a part of me that likes a limited number of shelves with a constantly changing montage of tiny crap, cards and pictures.

The stuff I organized today was work stuff. I have an amazing amount of paper in my life. Printouts and photo copies were in a couple of places throughout the apartment in little stacks. It was sort of centralized, but now it's completely pulled together. And there are books. Lots and lots of books. What I finally did was clear off a shelf and move a lot of other books (read: novels and non-fiction) to the cellar and some (knitting and other reference books) to a drawer where I can get to them easily if I need to.

Then I started going through paper and sorting them into piles. It took hours. It's mostly exercises on things like use of prepositions or idioms and expressions, etc, etc. I've managed to accumulate a lot of stuff, most of it good. People have sent me exercises and I've found things on the Internet. It piles up.

Organizing it in a way that I can use it has been my big challenge. I've had a couple of systems that didn't work because they were hard to use or inconvenient. I'm very much from the school of thought that if you can't find it of it's hard to get to, you might as well not have it. I found some excellent stuff today that I'd misplaced and that I'll want to use again. And now it's organized in a nice expandable binder. I've still got a ways to go, but I made some really good progress today.

Strange how at the end of the day all I have to show for all of my effort is some organized shelves and a lot of recycling, but I feel so good. Amazingly, I didn't knit the whole day. Generally, if I have a "day off," I'll sit and knit for at least some of the time. But I stayed on course pretty much.

Throwing stuff away feels good, but I won't throw stuff away indiscriminately. I've done it and then the thing I'm looking for it gone and I hate it. I knew a woman whose husband asked her to go through some boxes in the garage. She put it off and finally said, "If I haven't gone through them yet, I don't need it. Just throw it away." Later, she realized it was stuff she wanted, year books, pictures, important documents. It gives me the shivers to think about that.

I've had a few fits of organization in the past few months. I organized all of my yarn and then I organized the box where I keep all of my important documents. I think a lot of people (certainly not Fred) think of me as organized and I want to live up to that. I'm going to try to get up tomorrow and catch the fever again.

Butterfly Baby

2009-04-07T16:32:00.001+02:00

NOTE: There is nothing here but knitting today.

HOWEVER, Look at the pictures. I made some very nice snaps today.

A couple of months ago, I traded some yarn to a knitting friend and she threw in a ball of GGH Merino Soft that happened to be one of my favorite shades of green. Then, another knitting friend offered to let me test knit a pattern that I liked. It's a baby hat. To me, baby hats are like a small piece of good chocolate. There good for a quick taste and over relatively quickly. I think there are a few alterations that need to be made in this pattern and then she's going to put it out there. It's a fun little hat. And the basic pattern - like most most basic patterns after you understand them - is easy to alter. I've already cast on for the next hat.

It ends with an eye cord stem, which I always like. I think the top of a hat is such a nice place to put a little thing. I've proved that a number of times on this blog.

The little butterflies are nice too. I had no idea how they were done, but having done them now, It's completely obvious. They were the slightest bit tedious, but you don't have to mess with that part very often. And after you do it, it's not that much trouble. Fiddly, I believe I usually call it.

I have to say that I am crazy about this camera. On castover days in the afternoon - at our dining room table - it takes the best pictures. If you're still reading this, you might be interested to hear that I used 3mm needles (two circulars) and it took 22 grams of the wool.

A Night at the Opera

2009-04-06T23:43:00.004+02:00

I was invited to the opera with my friend, Ann. It was La Triviata. I didn't know the story, but I knew it was about a sick prostitute - aren't they all? I had the story line of La Bohème in my head and I kept thinking, My goodness but they've left a lot out. Ann had gotten the tickets from her husband (who happened to be in the production) and they were sort of amazing seats. Third row.

We sat close enough so that I could see a guy playing a really strange brass instrument (sort of a trombone looking thing, but with vertical pipes, a fingering mechanism on the right side, and the bell beside his head - and sitting next to the trombones) holding his ears when the tympani was making a lot of noise. There were subtitles, but they were in Dutch and they were way up high, so I mostly tried to figure it out on my own or just enjoy the ambiance. It was a very modern set, some of which Ann did not agree with. It was a little slow in the third act, but overall, it was a really nice performance. They did some very interesting things and the sound is very different than where I've sat before.

Afterwards, the three of us had beers at a bar a few blocks from the opera house. We sat outside and it was just perfect. It was interesting to get some behind the scenes stories. Being a member of a chorus in an opera - or being in an orchestra - is a job I never considered that is appealing to me now. Of course it would mean working nights, but it sounds like fun and at one point in my life, I was on track to do something like that if I'd have just made a different turn. Yes, my life would be completely different, but would I know that? No. And I'd probably be just fine with it.

Riding home, I thought, I have a really lovely life. For one thing, I got a wonderful seat to a very nice opera for free with a good new friend, and secondly, today was the last day of the one job for a bit. I only work Mondays and Fridays at that job and this coming Friday is Good Friday and the following Monday is Second Easter Day (also known as White Monday), so I don't see those kids again until the 17th of April. (Thank God for these religious holidays.) They really are such great kids. It's just spring time. And having worked with the mentally ill, I know that there are some things that you just have to accept. These children have spring fever.

I've got some free time coming up. I need to think of a way to be productive. I've got a couple of things in mind.

By the way, I've heard that that sculpture in the picture above is by our fair queen. (It's at the opera house.) I have no proof, but it always makes me think of her. I almost don't want to hear different because I like the idea so much.

Iowa? Really?

2009-04-05T19:41:00.004+02:00

Dinner last night was - by all accounts - a success. It was a very nice group of people, some of whom we've had over before and two who we have not. Alastair brought me a snow globe he'd picked up at the Keukenhof. It's a scene of everyday life in Holland. It's quite realistic. Thanks, Alastair!

Dinner started with a red onion tarte tartin with goat cheese and then had a nice salmon dish (a bunch of stuff on top, wrapped in filo dough and baked) with some green beans and mashed potatoes. It ended with a flan. Everyone left right after midnight.

I woke up first and walked into the kitchen to find this.

Sometimes we stay up and clean the kitchen and dining room. We didn't feel like it last night. We just sat for a little bit and then went to bed. All morning, I was humming There's Got to Be a Morning After. It reminds me of The Poseidon Adventure - one of my favorite movies.

Someone last night mentioned that same sex marriage will be legal in Iowa as of April 24, 2009. I said, "Iowa?!" It's like the most random state. I didn't hear anything in the run up to this. Usually I hear or read something. So that's good news. I like surprises like Iowa.

Down with bigotry.

Can I Bring Anything?

2009-04-04T16:49:00.000+02:00

Years ago (in the mid-Nineties) one of my favorite shows (Northern Exposure) featured one of the main characters (Dr. Joel Fleishchman) preparing to throw, and then throwing, a dinner party. (And the over-use of parentheses.)

Joel had never thrown a dinner party and he made a lot of mistakes. That was the story line. At that point in my life, I had also never thrown a dinner party. The show served as a primer for what to do and what not to do. I think back on it all the time.

I thought of this last week when I ran into one of the guests and he said, "Can I bring anything?" As if on cue, and paraphrasing a line from the show, I said, "No, thanks. We've got everything covered." Similarly, when I'm invited to dinner, I'll ask, "Can I bring anything?" I suppose there are situations where it's fine to say, "We don't have a dessert. You could bring that." But I'd never do that. It's sort of a control thing.

Another thing Joel did was run out of wine. I'm a huge advocate of having enough of everything on hand. We're always stocked up for a party. Water might be a problem tonight, but if all else fails, we've got a couple of faucets that are good for that. Growing up, we drank iced tea at big dinners - Thanksgiving and Christmas. That seems so far away now. I'd be okay with drinking iced tea here, but we don't have the set up for that. We don't have the glasses, access to enough ice or those long spoons. So we have to drink wine...right?

One of the things I love about a dinner party is chopping all the stuff up. I've zested lemons, crumbled cheese, peeled potatoes and sliced onions for a couple of hours now. Fred's thing is the table. He enjoys setting a table. (That photo above is one of his from a couple of years ago.) And then when it's all done, there's a huge mess to clean up. There's even something fun about that.

Let Op!

2009-04-03T20:10:00.005+02:00

Last week, I leaned on my handlebars and felt them give a little bit. Then I did it again two days ago. I thought that a bolt (or screw) was loose and that they were slipping a bit. When I tried to bed them back up, it wouldn't budge. Then I looked at the front side of the vertical bar of the handle bars.
Apparently, it's splitting and it's going to break in half at some point. The hole probably didn't help. It lets water in. And the crack is rusty. It's probably been a while coming.

I cannot imagine what a nightmare it would be if I was riding along, and I pushed down while I was on the road and it bent down really far or broke off. I would be a horrific wipe out. It could be ridiculously gory. I rode it today, but I was very conscious of the weak spot. We're going to take it to the bike shop tomorrow. We bought it there. It's been two years, but you'd think a Dutch bike should last a little longer than two years.

I don't have a car, but my transportation still needs to be maintained.

Let op! by the way, means " Careful!"

Meringue update:

Fred's third meringue (a few days ago) didn't work out. It was too dark and raw in the middle. This afternoon, he made his fourth meringue. It was just the slightest bit cream colored (perfect) and he let it sit in the oven until it cooled all the way down. It was raw in the middle.

He just put his fifth attempt (the second in a day) into the oven. It's going to sit in 90 degree C oven for an hour and a half and then in the oven until it cools down. He made it fairly thin. It's also now on baking paper and not the silicone thing we have for baking. I like that he keeps trying. I keep telling him. "Try again."

I'm ready to sit and knit. It was a full week.

Islands and Paths

2009-04-02T20:57:00.000+02:00

There's a big fuss being made right now about the four hundred year anniversary of the founding of New Amsterdam in New Netherland by the Dutch. Interestingly (or not), I have just started listening to The Island at the Center of the World. It's about the very first days of NYC, when it was still called new Amsterdam. I heard about it right after I moved here from a woman I used to know who I no longer talk to. She was an interesting friend for a while and then something happened and we realized we were just not that into each other any more. I sometimes think of something I'd like to tell her, but then I get over it and I realize that it's probably better to just forget it.

It reminds me of Iyanla Vanzant and how one time she was on Oprah and she was talking about relationships. She described 'life paths' as us all being on different roads. Sometimes our paths cross other roads and they become one road for a while. Then they veer away again. So there's nothing to be pissy about. You're just following your road, and they're following thiers. That's how I feel about this woman. I'm sure she's doing very well. She was a part of a dinner group we had for about two years. She was fabulous in that, but not so much after it broke apart. It was a very situational friendship.

Anyway, the book is really good. It's a fascinating story. It starts out with someone with very specific language skills being shown some old documents and translating them. I haven't gotten very far. I'm looking forward to listening to it. It's good knitting material. The New Yorker in me likes the NYC history. And there's all that Dutch history, which is good to know. Apparently the tolerant atmosphere of Amsterdam was replicated in New Amsterdam, which is why NYC has such a different tone than the rest of the country. I love that I've chosen to live in both places.

That woman also read Pigeons: The Fascinating Saga of the World's Most Revered and Reviled Bird. Being a city girl, she had a feeling for pigeons. She was a good reader. I used to be a good reader. I'm not so much any more. Of course I used to commute and wait for elevators, so I was always reading doing that. I don't do either of those things any more. I'm on the bike and I've always got that ipod going. Times change.

April Fools

2009-04-01T20:35:00.001+02:00

This was something we saw in Rome. It's a serious piece of art on a doorway. It wasn't like a joke piece. Isn't art a wonderful thing?

Warning: This is could be political. You might not want to read this.

I decided that for today's post, I would write about three political pundits/figures who I think are fools. There are a number of people who I'm tired of seeing or who seem to be spewing hate every time I hear them say anything. I rarely see them as entertaining (as certain people are able to do) because I know that some people (some of whom I am related to) take them seriously and think they are the voice of reason. It would be nice to have the freedom to think that they are just fools (i.e. silly people) instead of hateful voices that actually have influence on a certain percentage of the public. Pity.

Fool #1 - Ann Coulter: Fortunately, Ms. Coulter has become sort of inconsequential these days. Her books don't sell as well as they used to and she's loved only by people on the extreme right wing. Still, she irks me to no end. I cannot see anything appealing about her. I watched her appearance at the recent CPAC thing. She's just a comedianne. She has some funny lines, but she's filled with hate. She's gross.

Fool #2 - Rush Limbaugh: I get an eyeload of Rush's nasty self from Keith Olberman when Rush says something particularly hateful or noteworthy. I can't imagine listening to him on a regular basis. What would that do to your brain over time? My father (bless him) once said that the three people he admired most were (in this order) Governor Bush, Rush Limbaugh and Paul Harvey. You can tell how long ago he said that. I was secretly disappointed that he threw in Paul Harvey because the other two were such amazing icons of stupidity. It would have made a better story if he'd have come up with a third more in line with the first two. But that's the story, and I'm sticking to it.

Fool #3 - Lindsey Graham: There are a number of Republican senators who give me the shivers - John Boehner for one - but Mr. Graham gets it because he's such a weak looking guy. He seems like the kind of guy who couldn't be counted on to carry his end of a couch to move it across the room. And one top of that, he looks like a closet case to me. There are few things I dislike more than a closet case. He's also a total water carrier for the Republican big wigs, which he'll never be. When he talks I feel like he's just saying what he was told to say.

There are a lot of people I wish would go away. Most are these Republican obstructionists who are just fighting against Obama because they want to set the stage for a Republican resurgance. It's awful. I don't think they care anything about the country. If there was a big hole and all of these people were to fall into it, I'd be totally fine with that. At least then we'd have a new wave of people and not these same old faces.

Nice post, huh? Oh well. It's only one post.

Mary's New Nose

2009-03-31T20:13:00.001+02:00

Of course this will mean nothing to anyone but Fred and me, but Fred finally got Mary's nose fixed - and, contrary to the photo, it was not by the hand of Buddha.

When Fred's parents died five years ago, he got possession of their nativity set. His parents bought/got it when they were first married and they'd been married for over sixty years when they died. So it is old and has been banged around by a lot of people over the years. Each piece has chips and nicks, but Mary had the added insult of not having a nose.

We took it by a repair place at least three times. It was always too early or too late in the year, and they wouldn't accept the job. (I know, right?) Fred finally dropped it by a fourth time and now she's fixed. It cost €10 and it looks pretty good. I was a nervous that it would look repaired. You can't really see it unless you look. Now he's going to take the rest of the set and we'll have it for next Christmas. They're only going to charge €150 for the whole set. I'm sort of amazed. I thought it would be much more expensive.

It's the (very Catholic) religious articles place on Spuistraat right around the corner from Het Spui. (In case you're familiar with Amsterdam.) They have a little display room down a few steps that is not quite six feet high. We looked at all the nativity scenes while we were all bent over. Religious articles are sort of fascinating. I didn't grow up with all of that.

Today was one of the most beautiful days I've seen in months. I was actually out this afternoon with no jacket and it was crisp, but not really cold - of course I was in the sun the whole time. I keep saying it, but I'll say it again. I think Spring is almost really here.

I think that having not had any little sun vacation has really colored how I have experience the winter. Next year we need to go away for a bit and get warm. This was an endless winter.

Who is this Aran Fellow?

2009-03-30T18:54:00.008+02:00

It feels like I've been knitting on this Aran sweater for months, and I have been...sort of. I keep finding other things to knit, and that's drawing the whole process out. So I've had breaks. Fortunately, the diamonds in the pattern propel it along. (I keep wanting to get to the next one.) It's getting heavy, but I don't think I'm going to wear it this year. I mean I could, but it seems unlikely to be finished any time soon.

I've only got 17 inches knit so far. It has to get to 19 inches before I start the decreases or the sleeves, or whatever the next step is. I just have to keep knitting. It's completely intuitive at this point - not exactly boring, but very routine. There's no reason to look at the pattern. The inside of each of the diamonds is different. That's nice. In the end, it might be too small for me to wear, but I'm cool with that. The point is to finish so that I can move on to the shawl.

After our Kool-aid dyeing party, I wanted to use the yarn to see what it looked like knitted up. I've also been wondering what a whole hat of a twisted knit stitch would look like. I put in the diamonds to mix it up a bit. The insides of the diamonds are all purl - or is that what we call 'reverse stockinette'? I'm digging how the color looks. It's got a very nice speckled feel. No ugly pooling, just subtle color changes. Complete accident. It only took 50 grams, so I started another hat immediately, this one with cables.

I like the decrease a lot. I like those clean lines. I did a loop at the top, but it's a very small loop and it's four stitches across in a twisted rib rather than i-cord. I like it, but it's too small for me. However, I like touching it, so I'll keep it around for a while so I can pet it. I'll have to block it and see what that does to it. It's already been dyed twice. Would blocking it really do something to it? We'll see.
I really like the vertical lines. That's part of why I like twined knitting is the lines. Brioche also has some nice lines. After I finish the second hat, I'm back on the sweater. I like this style of knitting. It's very tight and exact. I'm getting better at it. I'm just completely daunted by that sweater.

A Sunday Snack

2009-03-29T22:11:00.004+02:00

Fred brought some of this bread home on Friday and we've been going through it. It's called roggebrood - literally 'rye bread.' But it's not something you'd get in NYC with pastrami and a spicy mustard. This variety made of rye, water, salt and some enzymes - and you can tell. It looks big in the picture, but a slice is really only about four inches by two inches, and it's sliced really thin. My first experience with it was when we served (homemade) split pea soup at a dinner party and we served some of this with very old cheese to accompany the soup. The old cheese was so old that it was the texture of Parmesan, but it was definitely a yellow cheese. It's good, and as Fred says, "It has a lot of taste."

This is the one I ate today. Just the one slice of bread and the cheese. No condiments. Have you ever seen South Park? Eric made funny of Kenny one time because Kenny's family is so poor that he doesn't even have condiments on his sandwich. Maybe Kenny isn't poor. Maybe he's just Dutch. [Fill in your own punchline here.]

When I think of open faced sandwiches, I always think of teachers I had in elementary school. They seemed so old and persnickety only wanting one slice of bread (and in most cases it was just the crappy white bread from Texas in the early Seventies). I'm probably as old now (or I'm nearing it) as they were back then. And here I am eating an open faced sandwich on a gray Sunday afternoon - so maybe I'm persnickety too.

Fred's choice of sandwich today was margarine and sugar. I used to like a butter and sugar sandwich on white bread. I couldn't eat one now. Those were the days before my mother switched us to wholewheat. It had a thin layer of butter (I'm quite sure we didn't use margarine) and as much sugar as I could sneak on to it. I can still remember the crunch of the sugar between my teeth. Did I mention that my father was a dentist?

This is the kind of food item you don't come across if you just live here. You sort of have to live with a Dutch person to just happen to have these things in the house when you're looking for a snack. You would totally pass this stuff by in the grocery store, or look at it and wonder what you would use it for.

Fred's good for that. He brings some some random stuff occasionally. When I was very first here, I opened the refrigerator and took out some cold cuts. I looked at it and tried to puzzle out what gerookte paardenvlees meant. Then I walked into the next room and asked, "Is this seriously smoked horse meat?"

It was.

The Mysteries of the Scots

2009-03-28T22:29:00.002+01:00

Note: I did not take this photo

This afternoon, Fred and I went to the Center while during our Saturday errand running. The Center of Amsterdam was filled with men in kilts today. There were certainly a couple of women, but it was mostly men - and mostly loud and (possibly) tipsy. There were all different color combination on the tartans, an amazing variety. Oddly, most tartans seem to tend to be (see how I'm hedging myself here) from where I was standing heavy on the dark blues and greens with a little red or yellow stripe thrown in here and there. There were a few red kilts, and I saw a light blue based kilt and also a beige based one, but it was mostly the darker colors.

When we stopped for some patat, we stood and watched guys walking back and forth on the street and we came up with two questions. Our first question was about the length of the kilt. There was a slight variety in length. It seems like most of them were about knee length. Shorter than that just looks like skirt, and longer looks like it doesn't fit properly and it's slipping down. The longer kilt were generally on younger guys, making us think that they'd just borrowed their father's kilt for their trip to Amsterdam.

Our second question (that we really didn't have any means of getting answered, it was just one of those times when you throw out a question and discuss), was whether or not the ten thousand Scots that are supposed to be in Amsterdam this weekend are wearing the proper undergarments.

Yesterday, we both wore coats and scarves (and pants). Additionally, I wore a hat and for some of the time I was wearing gloves. These guys had bare legs and way less on top, a lot of times it was just a shirt or sweater and sometimes it was a T-shirt. I can see wearing a wool kilt on a day like today. It's wool and there's a lot of material in them. However, it was a little chilly. Is it possible that everyone was going commando, or is that only a spring and summer sport?

When we paid (€,30) to use the restroom, and (as a bonus) I got the question answered. A guy entered the room in a rush - after what I am guessing was several beers. I didn't see anything, but it just seemed like the timing of his arrival at his destination and the start of his project included a pause and a snap. It didn't seem like all of the equipment needed for said project was readily available behind a wall of fabric. Then it happened two more times with two other men in kilts.

Granted, that was not a scientific study and my findings cannot be generalized to all of the other men in kilts in the city. I'm just saying what I saw. It's just that logic would dictate that if there's the possibility of a cold draft shooting up your kilt all day...well, a pair of briefs never killed anyone.

So why was Amsterdam invaded by men in kilts today? Something about football.

Holland won.

In Search of...

2009-03-27T19:38:00.003+01:00

Fred is - at this very moment - attempting to make a meringue for the third time. He's tried it a couple of times before and something always goes wrong. We had one two Christmases ago at his sister's house. And we keep thinking that it would be a nice, light dessert for a dinner party. They're always a little brown, and they're sort of gummy in the middle.

Recipes for meringues vary widely. He found on on the Joy of Baking website. I would love to say that we're doing a third meringue, but it's his thing. He's the one searching for that illusive perfect recipe. One of the big problems is that the oven was apparently too hot, even though it was exactly the temperature the recipe called for. And we apparently added the sugar at the wrong time. And this and that. We'll see.

I'm glad to be in for the evening with little ahead of me other than finishing off a stamppot, watching a movie and knitting. I taught five classes today - one right after the other. I was only at work for six and a half hours, but the entire time was in front of a class. I took a half hour when everyone was gone to sort things and clean up the room before heading out. It's sort of exhausting to teach like that. And I feel compelled to try to have contact with each of them and let them know that I know they're there.

Still, I'd rather be doing this than...I'll just than a lot of things.

Health Care is a Right?

2009-03-26T19:49:00.003+01:00

The idea behind this photo was that the statue looked vaguely like a nurse. I think she's a saint, but I'm out of my element in that arena. One of us took it in Croatia.

I believe I've said before that when I was an art therapist in NYC, I had the most fabulous health care I've ever had. I was in a union: 1199SEIU. Every month I paid $75 in union dues, which afforded me some wonderful benefits, one of which was amazing health care. I figured out how to use it a couple of years after I got it and then I went to the doctor any time I felt like it. Dermatologist, chiropractor, general practitioner, eye doctor - I went regularly and I really liked it.

I also had prescription coverage. One time I walked out of the pharmacy carrying over $500 in medications (pills and creams from prescriptions that I'd mostly gotten from the dermatologist) and I had paid...nothing. Love that. I was in my mid-thirties and I lived in a very busy city knowing that if anything every happened to me, I'd be fine. Someone would pay for it.

When I took the buy-out and left that job, I got six months of health care coverage, but after that, I was on my own. I applied for COBRA insurance just to see if I could keep what I had because I loved it so much. They wanted me to pay $350 a month! I opted for the plan that I'd had for the three or four years before I'd gotten the art therapy job: fingers crossed.

At that point, I was in my late thirties and I had some sense of what could happen to a person if he got sick or hurt. It gets expensive really quickly. When I had health insurance things would pop up here and there and I would make an appointment and show it to my doctor. Once time there was a strange click in my foot and I just needed someone to look at it and tell me to forget about it. I hated not having health insurance. I felt totally exposed. Like, watch your step.

When I moved here, I had traveler's insurance from the ANWB. It was two-euro a day and was really only good if something really big happened. It was...less-than-ideal, but Fred insisted I get it because if something did happen and I wasn't insured, he would be responsible for taking care the bills. When I was officially here and I got a job, I got health insurance and now I pay €95-ish a month and I'm covered. And when I didn't use it for a year (this happened twice), I got a little kick back - a little "Thanks for not using your insurance. Here's some of it back." Not an incentive to not use it, but a nice perk.

I've been listening to some radio programs that talk about the possiblity of health care reform in the US if Obama gets his way. The insurance situation there is really ridiculous. There has to be a way that it can cost less. Private insurance for a healthy singel guy in his mid-thirties that's $350 (and that was with a fairly large deductable) is too much. And if you have a pre-existing condition, you're totally screwed. My insurance here is not tied to my job, and I have a choice of who I want to go to. Also, I don't think they can charge you more if you have a pre-existing condition. It's sort of what insurance ought to be.

Fred remembers the days when insurance was even cheaper. He thinks what we pay is too high. I'm perfectly fine paying what I pay. It still feels cheap.

The doctors here are ridiculous, but that's another post. I've heard nutty stories.

When you think about the US health care system, just know that it could be probably done in a better way.

By the way, on the subject of really complex things, there's the economy and all that goes with it. Planet Money is a podcast I've been listenign to that is always good. It's on NPR. They talk about the economy in a way that is totally understandable. Their explanation of Berni Maddoff and his Ponsi scheme was really good and I totally got it. I should do a list of Best Bets. That would be on the list. Learning can be fun!

Bed-in Anniversary

2009-03-25T18:36:00.000+01:00

Today is the thirtieth anniversary of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's Bed-in. They knew that their wedding would attract a lot of attention, so they used the big day to promote world peace. Interestingly, the "event" took place at the Hilton down the street from us. And it's the Hilton that Patty stayed in when she was here for the wedding...our wedding.

There is an exhibition going on there that is all about the Bed-in. I should walk over and check it out - just to say I did. This is the same Hilton that Klaas Bruinsma (a drug lord) was shot in front of in 1991. Who knew we had such a famous landmark in our neighborhood? For years, I rode by that hotel and I thought, Why do they have build such ugly buildings? I feel different about it lately.

This afternoon, Fred left for Frankfurt. I got to do one of my favorite things in the world. I sat here on a gray, rainy afternoon and knitted while I listened to a podcast. It was pretty amazing. Nowhere to go for the moment, nothing pressing. There's something about it being gray and rainy that made it that much better.

I have to leave the apartment in a bit to ride through the cold and the (very light) rain to see a friend I haven't seen in a long time. She's driving up from The Hague All I want to do is finish the aran sweater I'm working on. It's just tons of knitting. It's at a very mindless stage.

All I am saying here is: Give Peace a Chance.

Networking in the Recession

2009-03-24T22:18:00.009+01:00

I've had some interesting action on Facebook recently. In the past two days, I've had two guys from high school (who I never talked to while I was in high school) friend me. I got the notification that they had friended me and thought, Who is that? I remembered the name, but it was a name that felt distant. Like someone who ran with the popular crowd or someone who I avoided because I didn't want to get beat up.

And now - through the magic of Facebook - we're friends. Not exactly BFFs, but...we're on each other's lists and we can peek into each other's lives - at least in a Facebook way.

A couple of real friend, have told me about people from high school who have friended them and there's a part of me that mopes a bit because their not my Facebook friend. It's just like high school. And one really good friend has even refused to friend a person or two. She wrote me and said, "If [name of person] friends me, I'm ignoring her." Just like high school. Except this particular person was nicer about it in high school. Of course we had to see them back then, so we sort of had to be nice.

My friend, Ross, wrote me today and said, "[name of person] friended me today." I whined a little (to myself) because I was jealous and suddenly 17 again. He said, "It must be a networking thing, especially if your looking for work. They have mentioned it on the news." Okay...I don't have a job for him, but still...Ross is a hair colorist! [Name of person] is probably about as much a hair colorist as he is an English teacher.

I'll sort of friend almost anyone who friends me. (I have a 176 now.) A couple of people have friended me and I've asked, "Do I know you?" If they don't have an answer, I don't friend back. I don't like the random friending. I think there's something creepy about it. You can't see very much on my Facebook page, but I don't want just anybody looking at it.

I've also just joined Twitter, although don't expect a lot from me if you do that sort of thing and want one more person to follow. (I'm AndyinAmsterdam.) I sort of don't get Twitter, or why someone would want to know that I just got out of class or that I'm shopping. I have to figure it out. I have to see how people do it. I like the limit of 140 characters.

This online networking this is interesting. The basic connection is really interesting as well. I have all these FB friends who are from high school and it answers a lot of what I've have been wondering about regarding what happened to these people after high school. I like that I still know them even in this really superficial and slightly artificial way.

And there is a slight possibility that I could get some 'work' from a Facebook connection - we'll see how that works out. Fingers crossed. I love this new era we're in.

That photo is from Gay Pride Day in 1990 in NYC. It was a lifetime of hair ago.

Lyle Lovett at the Paradiso

2009-03-23T23:40:00.004+01:00

There are very few things I've done for twenty years. My life is a life of pretty consistent change. Friends, jobs, interests, the places I've lived. I keep moving and I keep doing new stuff. However, I have been a Lyle Lovett fan for twenty years. Over the years, when people have asked me what kind of music I listen to, I have pretty much always said, "Do you know who Lyle Lovett is?" One of my first passwords was lylelove. That was back before they started making you use letters and numbers.

I first became aware of him in 1988. I was working at the now defunct Caravan of Dreams in Fort Worth, Texas. Lyle Lovett and his Large Band were there for five nights - two shows a night. I was waiting tables and I got to see all ten shows. It was wonderful. Not all of the shows hit me like that. (A lot of the bands they booked were very mediocre.) When I moved to NYC a few months later, a friend gave me a tape as a going away gift. I wore it out.

So I was really happy when Fred was looking through the paper a couple of months ago and he said, "Lyle Lovett's going to be at the Paradiso." And I was even happier when he told me a bit later that he'd bought two tickets.

The Paradiso is a really nice venue for listening to music. Fred and I have been to a couple of concerts. We've also seen Nanci Griffith (another Texan) and Rufus Wainwright. Of the three, this was the first one that Fred walked out of saying that he wanted to put some of the music on his ipod.

We sat on the second balcony right over the stage so we could lean on the rail. They played for two and a half hours. He's an amazing lyricist. And he's got a very dry sense of humor. He talks a bit between numbers. He's very genuine. He makes me proud to be a Texan. Here's a little sample of one of his lyrics:

Shelly - she's got big ones.
Sally's got some too.
Allison's got little one
That hate to go to school.

I love that stuff.

I've been a pretty heavy podcast listener for a while now, but seeing him on stage made me want to start listening to his music again. Fred didn't say anything, but I sang along to quite a few of the songs - loudly.

There are few things I miss about Texas - apart from some people, like my lovely sister. Seeing Lyle tonight made me think back to the Fort Worth years and how much fun that was. If you're not acquainted with him, his website has some of his music and videos and IMDb (don't tell me you don't know about IMDb) has a list of all the acting he's done. It was a really nice night.

Don't Stop Singin'

2009-03-22T21:34:00.000+01:00

My afternoon was filled with singing. I was substituting in the choir of a friend of mine who I know from my regular choir. It was an interesting afternoon in a nearby community center. It was a sort of jamboree. We sang in several languages, among them German, Italian, Spanish, Armenian, which always amazes me. And then we sang a couple of American standards like Kiss Me Once and Kiss Me Twice (and Kiss Me Once Again). It was fun.

The people are really nice. They're a close-knit group. The other tenor (pictured below) showed me a program from when he sang in the choir in 1999. That's quite a number of years. On the other end of the spectrum, the choir recently got four new members from another choir that finally stopped because so many people had quit. I was sitting with the new folks, chatting while they were filling out their membership applications. Each one of the "new" people were in their early seventies. They're just a few years younger than my parents.

I love the idea of retiring and having more time to do things that I enjoy. Of course I keep busy as it is, so I can't imagine what I would do with more time. (Let's find out!) But I really love the thought of getting older and continuing to be active, like the vast majority of this choir.

This guy here is totally Dutch. I'm a reasonably tall person at 6'1". He makes me look short. Dutch people are like that - except Fred. I feel tall around him.

That first picture is the last song we sang - Geef Mij Maar Amsterdam. The last line is:

Lever in Amsterdam met geen poen, dan in Parijs met een miloen. Geef mij maar Amsterdam.

It means "I'd prefer Amsterdam with no money than Paris with a million bucks. Give me Amsterdam." I sang it, but I hope that wasn't legally binding.

Men at Work

2009-03-21T20:16:00.003+01:00

This is a photo of Amsterdam Central Station. All that stuff in front of it is construction. There is a ton of construction happening all over Amsterdam and it looks a lot like this all over the place. It's tiring to look at it all the time - and it's going to be around for a while.

There's a North-South subway line going in (maybe) that was scheduled to be over sometime this year. Then the finishing date was extended. Then it was extended again. It's fraught with troubles. There's a street (Nieuwe Vijzelstraat?) That is a mess because something happened during the construction and some of the houses started (slowly) falling in. The ground here is strange. I'll try to get the whole story and summarize it some time. It's sort of interesting.

Today was the first day that I've been out and it really felt like the city was coming alive again. It was a crisp day with lots of sunshine. That gets everybody's blood flowing. Fred said, "Let's get the vacuuming and cleaning done. I want to go out." And I didn't argue at all. (Did I mention that Saturday is housecleaning day?)

One of the things we did when we were riding around, was to go to a large store and look at televisions and stereos. I was so overwhelmed that I don't know where to begin. I just looked at a wall of televisions and said, "Why are there eight of one brand to choose from? There aren't eight sizes." Some are the same size. And then there are eight different brands. What is that about? There were so many to choose from.

In my life, I've had four televisions that were mine. I had a black and white that was a hand-me-down from one of my siblings and was free. I was totally fine with that and I had, of course, no cable and no VCR. Just an antenna that I had to move around in the right direction. (The things kids are going to miss out on.) That was around 1988.

My second television was a large monstrosity that was always snowy and had not one, but three shadow images of everything. No one but me could stand watching it or see what was going on. I was used to its messed up screen. Once I went to a friend's apartment and watched his TV and I was amazed how clear the image was. I hadn't seen a decent television in months. I couldn't get over it. That TV finally quit working and I went without television for a couple of years. That was the early Nineties. I missed a lot of good shows, but I didn't know it at the time.

Then I had a little free, black and white that a colleague gave me on the promise that I would give it to a needy person when got a good television. (I did.) Then I finally bought a really great new color TV with remote for $75 from a friend of a friend (fell off the back of a truck or something.) And I had free cable in NYC (I gave the superintendent $20 and...surprise!)

My point is that looking at televisions in a store is way out of my comfort range. Fred and I both know that the salesman is going to ask us what it is we want in a TV. What kind of TV watching to we do? We watch the news, movies and regular TV shows. We want one that's a little bigger than the one that we have and that will last for many years. So why do we have to pick from so many. Give me a choice of three.

We are also going to be in the market for stereo because ours is shot. Fred wanted to look into having it repaired. It's twelve years old. I said, "Seriously? Repaired?"

While we were looking at stereos in the store, he said, "This is the same as what we have. I think the only thing they've changed is the price."

"You are precious," I said.

I have the night alone because Fred is off at a Dutch cabaret with a friend. That is so not my thing. I don't need an intense Dutch immersion experience tonight. I need to knit and watch a movie.

Lost and Found

2009-03-20T18:03:00.002+01:00

I walked out on the balcony a few minutes ago and a bumble bee had apparently taken a fancy to the cactus. It reminded me of a cartoon I once saw that had a snake (with glasses and poor eyesight) trying to cozy up to a garden hose. I can't imagine what this bee was hunting for. It sort of looks like he came in for a landing too quickly. Not worry - he eventually flew off. Apparently, he really did have some business there.

This afternoon after work, I went to get on my bike and I couldn't find my keys. I looked in all my pockets and felt around in the pockets of my bag and they were just gone. They were supposed to be in the pocket of my jacket, where they always are. I thought about where my jacket had been laying. It was just on a desk in the room the whole day. I thought they had probably fallen out.

While I was walking up to look for them, I considered the possibility that one of the students could have taken them. You know, there are students who your mind just goes to when things like this happen? And I really couldn't think of anyone. I can't imagine any of my students being the kind of person who would steal from me. I like that. I have some really good (and sometimes maddening) kids.

They keys turned out to be in the bottom of my bag - where they never are. It sucked to have to go back up to my room, because I was carrying so much stuff, but it was a relief to have them and get on the bike to come home.

My students have been on my mind lately because they've been so nuts. They're antsy and they want to be out of school already. But they were all on good behavior today since I had a little "come to Jesus" talk with them. It was nice to have them calm and cooperative, if a bit somber.

I feel like I grew a new teacher muscle with these talks I've been giving. This job has been exhausting. It's so much work, but it's fascinating because sometimes I can step outside of myself and watch myself and the way I am with them. I am so much the way I am.

It has been a beautiful day. Sunny and clear with a little crispness in the air. It makes for a stuffy room in an old building, but it was nice when I opened the windows to get some fresh air. I look forward to sleeping in a bit tomorrow.

Beschuit

2009-03-19T13:56:00.006+01:00

"Mr. Baker," I had a student ask the other day, "What is a beschuit called in English?"

"I don't know," I said. "What is that?"

The class then went about describing the dry tasteless biscuit in the photograph above.

"Oh that. I don't know. They might have them, but they're not as common there as they are here."

Does anyone know what they're called?

These little biscuits are a staple in many Dutch households - including ours. They keep for a long time. In fact, I think they arrive stale so that they will keep that much longer. They're also a favorite among my teenager student because they're cheap, filling and have virtually no calories (40 according to the packaging). They're not my favorite thing in the world, but when Fred arrived on the couch the other night with two that looked like this...

...I was up and in the kitchen very quickly. (Some people might think that the fact that he had two might mean that one would be for me - and that's usually the case - but I could tell by the way he was holding the plate that it was every man for himself.)

This one has a coat of margarine (which I usually steer clear of) and a healthy layer of hagelslag, which are basically Jimmies. The margarine is there acting as glue to keep the hagelslag (or whatever you want) on the beschuit long enough to get it into your mouth. (And since margarine is about as healthy as glue, that's an apropriate analogy.) As one might imagine, beschuit - being dry as the proverbial toast - are crumbly. You have to eat them with a plate under your chin.

Beschuit are also traditionally eaten with muisjes - little anis seeds coated in sugar - when a baby is born. I took some to Ohio one Thanksgiving after a baby was brought home. The response was pretty much unanimous: "I don't really like licorice that much." Patty likes dry, crunchy things, so that part went over well, but it sort of missed the point. (Also, they don't like marzapan. Who are these people?)

Some people actually eat beschuit with hagelslag for breakfast. It's like eating Fruit Loops without any of the benefit of the milk. It's part of a good breakfast. Of course we ate our share of sugar cereals growing up, but I'm just sayin'.

Isn't Dutch culture fascinating?

Like Sands Through the Hourglass

2009-03-18T19:32:00.005+01:00

My whole life I've noticed that on certain free days one moment it'll be 10:30 in the morning and the next it's 5:00 in the afternoon. The whole day just flies by. It's not like I sleep the whole day. I keep busy, but suddenly the whole day is has been eaten up and the sun is setting.

Today, I kept looking at the clock and it felt like I was trying to keep water in my hands. It just kept leaking out and dripping down my arms and suddenly it was time to leave for my "evening obligation."

That's one of the things I really liked about having an office job - back when I had an office job. There was always someone bothering me, asking me if I had something done or giving me another assignment. I had structure - in the form of a loud, bossy narcissist. These days that I have to structure myself are sort of difficult. I have to decide what I have time for and what's the most important.

Today I read some short stories I want to submit somewhere and I had to fit that in with planning for my classes on Thursday and Friday, returning some emails and a short nap. Life is rough!

[Full disclosure: I've always enjoyed (and often found a way to get) a short afternoon nap and I feel like I operate best with one, so it's probably best for everyone that I get one when I need one. In fact, I've heard of companies/cultures where the afternoon nap is fully supported and it's structured into the day. Give me 10-15 minutes of sleep around 14:00 and I'm a new man.]

The idea of not having a 40-hour a week job used to scare me. I tried it in NYC when I had no idea where to begin. Now I've fallen into this teaching/training thing, which is certainly not 40-hours a week. And there are some other things I'd like to try to do. It's really opened up my options. Yes, Fred has a stable job and that's a huge safety net, but I feel like I can finally try something I've wanted to try for a while.

At the end of the day today, I got done what needed to get done. Maybe I was enjoying myself - no harm in that. And it takes time to do stuff. I think I just need to get up earlier.

Weather Update: I actually went to my class today not wearing gloves - on purpose. It turned out that I needed them, but it was do-able without them. I'll say it again - Spring is almost here.

What's Next

2009-03-17T12:27:00.004+01:00

Not being Irish, and living in a country where that holiday is pretty much ignored, this is my offering for St. Patrick's Day. Or St. Patty's Day. The Patty I know is certainly a saint.

The Amaryllis bulbs we got for our wedding grew, bloomed and then turned to these. I think they're sort of beautiful. Fred thinks that the "flower part" has officially retreated to the bulb and that I can safely cut the very healthy stalk and throw these away because they contain nothing. I think they look like the kind of thing that would be tasty sauteed up with butter and a little garlic. Not to worry, though, I won't eat them. They just look like they'd be good. And I'll leave them standing for a while because I like looking at them. I could Google it and find out what to do...but wouldn't it be easier for someone to just tell me?

Last night a few of us (me and some ladies) did some dyeing. I took a skein of white Cascade 22o, added a little cherry Kool-Aid and nuked it for a few minutes. (Full disclosure: I also added a little lemonade Kool-Aid because I initially wanted to try to get a mottled effect. It didn't work.) Then I took some grape Kool-Aid powder and sprinkled it on here and there and nuked it again. I came up with this:

It was okay. Nothing fabulous. It was red. A little too orange or pink for me in spots, not completely saturated. I like the purple, which reads sort of black. It would be good for a hat or something. This is it still wet from sitting in a zip-lock bag all night. I'm less than thrilled with it because Malia got a really deep cherry red. But she boiled hers, she didn't mix colors and she might have started with a tan yarn. Anyway, I was coveting her color. I wanted a deeper, more saturated color.

This morning, I decided to take my little bag of red onion skins I'd been saving and some vinegar and see if I could over-dye the skein to get something deeper. I simmered the skins (just the dry part) and a couple of splashes of vinegar for about 45 minutes before removing the skins and putting the yarn in. I simmered the yarn for about an hour and then put it outside to cool.

The yarn soaked up a lot of the color of the water, which was sort of a rusty red-ish brown. I let it cool for a while and then I rinsed it out. It seems darker, certainly more saturated. If I could just keep it in the water, I'd be very happy with the color.

This is it hanging up to dry. I like it enough. We'll see what happens when it's really dry. I'll make a hat. I have something I want to try. Whether or not I'll wear it remains to be seen. I wouldn't have worn the color of the yarn last night. This seems almost doable. I hate to admit it, but I think the color in the photo is a little more intense than the actual yarn now hanging on the balcony. I could always dye it again if I really don't like it.

Suddenly I'm curious about dyeing yarn. I have a local supplier for reasonably priced yarn. I want to see what I can do in terms of things you can get from the grocery store. Supposedly you can get a lot of nice colors. We'll see. Might be just a bunch of tans and browns.

This afternoon I sat on the balcony with my face in the sun, just like a real Dutch person. I think I need some sun for my disposition. And a little color wouldn't hurt.

Het Loopt de Spuigaten Uit

2009-03-16T21:24:00.000+01:00

The Dutch Phrase of the Week this week means "It's going too far, it's getting out of hand." Interesting how that one showed up in my mailbox today.

Let me just say that my experience is that sunshine makes Dutch kids go nuts. It's like an overdose of sugar. Mr. Baker was ready to snap like a brittle twig - and then he did.

Years ago, while living in NYC (and maybe Texas), I heard "everyone needs twelve hugs a day." I heard it a couple of times. At that point in my life, I was at a place where I would have had to put in a little effort to get twelve hugs in, but I was in circles where that sort of thing happened. People hugged and it was just an accepted form of affection between friends and acquaintances.

Much less hugging goes on here. People might do it, but it's not the same, and I'm not involved in any circles of huggers. (And when it's put that way, I'm sort of glad I'm not.) Also, the kind of hugging that goes on here is different than the hugging I grew up with. It's like when you shake hands with someone who doesn't really know how to do it. There's that awkward thing with hand shakes where they squeeze too quick or too hard. Or they don't squeeze at all. All that goes on with hugging too. They've seen it done. It looks simple. What could be so difficult? And then they screw it up.

When people greet here, they generally kiss three times: right cheek, the left cheek and the right cheek again. It seems like it's a little more intimate somehow - I mean it's your lips and their cheek. It is more intimate in a way. (By the way, let the record show that it's usually a woman-woman, woman-man, gay guy-gay guy thing. Most straight men opt and go for the hand shake.)

But compare a couple of pecks on the cheek to pressing your chest against someone and wrapping your arms around them for a quick-but-not-too-quick squeeze and it doesn't seem like much. But it's nice and it's sort of exotic. It's what the natives do.

I was introduced to kiss-greeting in NYC where we always did the one, usually on the cheek. At first seemed like such an invasion of someone's air space. But I got used to it. If bodily contact bothers you, there's always the LA air kiss.

So last night, I went to another dyeing party. This time I just used Kool-aid (cherry and grape). Everyone else used gloves. I didn't. Today I have red hands. I got a couple of hugs last night. I never really notice the lack of hugs here until I get one and I am with people who have some history of hugging. I was nice. Because after yesterday at school, Mr. Baker really needed a hug.

Love is in the Air

2009-03-15T17:39:00.004+01:00

I think I've said before that this is one of my favorite spots in Amsterdam. If I haven't said it before, I'm saying it now. These crocuses come up every year spontaneously for the sole purpose of telling me that spring is right around the corner - I think. I know I keep saying that it's almost here. I also keep walking out of the house every day wearing a hat, a scarf and mis-matched gloves - and needing all of that. But it really does feel different. It's a less-bitter cold. And sometimes I even ride on the bike without my hat or gloves - for a few minutes. If I ever threaten to move any farther North, someone please stop me. I've done it twice. This is far enough.

Last Thursday was a beautiful day and this spot was (forgive me for this) absolutely glorious. It was still nice today. I figured I should get out there before these fragile little flowers fall apart and go away. Waiting for the next beautiful day when I don't have to work is not a good plan. I took tons of pictures when I was there today. A gay guy taking pictures of flowers. What will they think of next? I love flowers that come up like this. I believe we call them...perennials?

We went to a party last night. My friend, Cindy, turned 50, which sort of surprised me. I've been to a fair number of birthday parties in the last five years. They are usually very Dutch or they have a heavy Dutch influence. Of course that's fine, and expected given where we live. Cindy's party had a completely different feel. I was standing and talking to Fred and my friend, Ann, when I looked around the apartment and thought, This is a total New York City party.

First of all, their apartment (at least the floor we were on) is sort of shaped like a certain type of NYC apartment. Think railroad. Two longish rooms, windows out the front, windows out the back with a little balcony. It was filled with people, all standing holding a glass and talking. There was a table with some pretty fabulous hors doeuvres (unlike anything I ever saw in NYC), and there was music playing. The room was pretty loud, but we managed to stay for much longer than I thought we would - after a respite in the kitchen to get my hearing back.

I went in for the group gift, which was a leather bag that Cindy had picked out in Barcelona. Ann didn't and said she wished she had. (But she had an idea for something else.) Another woman I talked to scoffed and said, "I don't do group gifts. I got her an Armani bangle."

"What's a bangle?" I asked.

She was sort of drunk and was making me dance at that point. She shrugged and said, "A black plastic thing." We all need more of those, as long as it's Armani. Two words - gift receipt. Actually, I Googled Armani bangle and came up with this. Not bad. It's sort of understated and classy - just like Cindy.

I need to go to more parties like that one. It was a completely different crowd: very ex-pat heavy. Of course I didn't talk to that many people, but it was an interesting crowd to be in. And this was the first time for Cindy to meet Fred and for Ann to really talk to Fred. He was a hit. It's nice to know that I married a guy who's good at a party. It's not a reason to marry a guy, but it's a nice side benefit.

Integration-Meditation-Expectation

2009-03-14T18:40:00.007+01:00

The other day on here, I mentioned a letter I'd gotten that "invited" me to sign up for an obligatory integration course. Interestingly, I got three emails regarding that, but no comments. I thought I would tell the end of the story.

Fred called the number on the letter and spoke to "Samira" who told him that all I had to do was scan in all the pertinent documents and email them in - "Attention Samira." So that's done. Samira said that they had gotten a list and were just inviting everyone. I think it's an outside agency. It's a ridiculous system. Fred was a little nervous about calling. He said, "What if they ask why I'm calling and not you. Maybe they'll think you can't speak Dutch and that you're not integrated."

I said, "I have a paper that says I've done the course. Who cares if I can't speak Dutch if I passed the course? Tell them that I'm working. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

Samira didn't ask why Fred was calling.

Years ago, I was lectured regularly by a guy who had gone through the whole imburgering (integration) course three or four years before. He kept talking about how it went and what the rules were. I knew even then that he was "full of stuff" (as the mother of an ex-boyfriend of mine used to say). They change the rules all the time. So now here's this new rule that everyone has to do it. Years ago, if you were American and moved here independent of a Dutch person, for some reason, you didn't have to do the course. Now you do. (Which makes much more sense.)

I was listening to Cast On with Brenda Dayne this morning. She was talking about the meditative qualities and benefits of knitting and doing something repetitive. Something about that made me drag my aran sweater out of the bag and finally start on it again. I've got a lace project I'm want to start and I need to finish this.

The sweater really is a lovely project. It feels really nice and it looks good. I hope it'll fit, but even if it doesn't, I need to finish it. I'm going to fix some mistakes that were bothering me and then knit it up. It'd be nice to wear it a couple of times this year. We'll see how that works out.

And finally, apropos of nothing (I think that's a great blog title and some dork took it and quit blogging after a couple of times. Similarly, the numb skull who has andybaker.blogspot.com hasn't blogged on it since 2003!) Anyway, apropos of nothing, we are having a meatloaf tonight that is so amazingly good that I think everyone who eats meat should try it. It's called Dad's Meatloaf with Tomato Relish. By the way, The Food Network is one of my favorite places to look for recipes. I recommend.

The name of the meatloaf reminds me of the dad in my life who used to make chocolate cake in a sheet pan and then he'd take the handle of a wooden spoon and punch holes in the cake before pouring on the chocolate frosting that he'd made. That way the frosting is not just on the top, but actually in each piece of cake. It's all in the details. He wasn't much in the kitchen, as I remember, but he had his tricks.

I'd love to rewind today and do the whole thing again. It's been a good day. And we're going to a party later.

My Afternoon Off

2009-03-13T17:27:00.004+01:00

As I wrote the other day, I had coffee (and then a meal and then sake) with an ex-student of mine, Marco. I was just expecting coffee - and a 'gift' that he said he had ordered - and then to be on my way. When he said he had a gift that he had ordered, I thought, Oh no. Please let it be good. (I usually say that with gifts, don't I? Look back at me talking about our wedding gifts.) I thought he might have ordered yarn. It was a stretch, knowing him, but I couldn't think of what else he would have to order.

First off, he brought out some chocolate. Chocolate is good for all occasions - and this is really good chocolate. It's Lindt. Then he brought out the pièce de résistance (pardon my French), which was the Special 30th Anniversary Edition of School House Rock! (The exclamation mark is in the title, but I was really excited.) It's got tons of extras. And besides Grammar Rock, it's got Science Rock and America Rock. (And that's not all!) It's wonderful. Fred and I watched several of them the night I brought it home. He was quite engaged. I'll enjoy this for years to come.
That's the thing about Marco. I suggested School House Rock! to explain parts of speech and and he downloaded several to his iPhone. He knew I like it and he understood the place that it has in my heart. And he remembered it when shopping for a gift - which most of my students don't usually bother with, by the way. He also had the wherewithal to Google me and found the bloge. I will say that he didn't give the knitting the respect it's due, but I forgave him.

Anyway, after we had coffee, we walked around the Center, in the Red Light District, since we were planning on eating Asian food and (what passes for) Chinatown is right there. He showed me this:
I may have seen it before, but if I have, I can't remember it. He said it was the kleinste something...steeg? The smallest or narrowest alleyway in Amsterdam. It looks a little foreboding in this shot, but it's not that bad. It leads to some windows (the ones with the red lights). As I snapped a couple of photos of the opening, the guys coming out of the alley didn't look thrilled.

The alley is much less scary than it looks and quickly empties out into a wider street where the women in the windows are so friendly. They all smile and wink - but they don't wear much clothing.

The afternoon was a nice surprise. I really did expect just coffee. Instead, we walked, I snapped some pictures, we talked a lot and we ate dinner - going Dutch. How appropriate is that?

Thanks, Marco.

How's That Crisis Working Out for You?

2009-03-12T21:54:00.003+01:00

This whole Economic Crisis thing is strange to watch for me.

When the OJ trial was going on in 1995, I watched it every morning while I was getting ready for work. The Today Show always had an update as I stood there and ironed. It was something people talked about and read about in newspapers. New pieces of evidence would be introduced and we would talk about them. It was interesting and entertaining, and it didn't seem real to me. I watched it every day and I was completely detached from it, like you're detached from watching a show like Dynasty or Dallas.

The run up to an election is entertaining to me in the same way. It's got lots of drama and side stories, but it feels more real. I'm more emotionally involved. I was deeply disappointed both times Bush won. And I was deeply happy when Obama won - so happy that it was almost worth having to wait eight years to get a president I liked. Some other politicians hit me that way, but I tend to get involved in presidential elections the most.

For a while, this Economic Crisis felt like the OJ trial. It felt like something that was happening to the US - where I don't live. The ocean between the US and Europe felt really big. It felt like it was happening on TV.

I listen to a lot of newsy podcasts. I watch The Rachel Maddow Show, and Countdown with Keith Olberman. I love watching their shows on my ipod. It's like a tiny TV. I've also taken to listening to NPR Shuffle, which is a mix of Morning Edition, All Things Considered, and some other shows that are sort of lefty and intellectual. One of my new favorites is Planet Money. It's sort of depressing sometimes, but they talk about this whole crisis in very plain terms.

I've been listening to all this stuff about people losing their houses and bank problems and lay offs. This is a really big, involved drama. And recently, it's been feeling like it's getting closer and closer. People I know talk about losing their jobs. I know people who've lost their jobs. Our neighbors bought a new apartment and can't sell the old one - and we live in a fairly desirable building. It's crazy out there, man!

It feels strange to see the world in such a precarious place. Five years ago, when I left NYC, the world was also precarious place and my life felt really precarious because I was leaving the US and moving to Europe. Oddly, I feel like I'm in a much better place although the overall level of the economy and the world seems like it's in a worse place.

I know this will all turn out in the end. Things will level out.

A Day Filled with Mokum

2009-03-11T22:39:00.006+01:00

This afternoon, I had coffee with a former student. Then we walked around the Center for a bit talking and looking at things. Amazingly, he was able to show me a nitch or two that I hadn't seen before. (I'll save that for another post.) I love that in such a relatively small city, there are things I've never even heard of and places that I haven't been in years.

This evening, I went to a choir rehearsal. I'm helping out with a friend's choir that is short of men. I love singing. It's striking to me how different choir directors can be and how different the rehearsals can be. No value judgments, no snarky comments. They're just different.

The last song this evening was a perfect end to a day in which a couple of hours of my afternoon were spent walking around the Center and even walking down what my student (if he is to be believed) told me was the oldest street in Amsterdam. The song is Geef mij maar Amsterdam.

Here are the words:

Geef mij maar Amsterdam,
dat is mooier dan Parijs.
Geef mij maar Amsterdam,
mijn Mokums paradijs.
Geef mij maar Amsterdam,
met zijn Amstel en het IJ.
Want in Mokum ben ik rijk,
en gelukkig tegelijk.
Geef mij maar Amsterdam.

The gist (and the first line) is "Give me Amsterdam, which is more beautiful than Paris." The verses come really fast and keep comparing Amsterdam in a favorable way to Paris. The word Mokum, which I've written about before, is another word for Amsterdam. It always reminds me of Doris in Austria who loves her Mokum.

There was beautiful light today. It was crisp and clear. Spring in any city is beautiful, but I think it's especially beautiful here.

Amsterdam Limited

2009-03-10T18:06:00.004+01:00

Going to work the other day, I got this song stuck in my head. I heard it first when we saw The Darjeeling Limited. I really enjoyed that movie. I liked the colors and the music and the pace. I think I bought the DVD.

At one point, the three brothers were on a train. They had two little compartments that were painted with bright colors and had lots of interesting stuff all around. The train rocked and the three of them just sat and had deep conversations about their lives and their relationships. It was total fodder for my romantic fantasy of traveling through Asia on a train.

So I was really happy when Fred told me that we'd gotten ticket on a train from Bangkok to Chang Mai, Thailand last August. We got a compartment and ordered meals, and there were bunk beds like in the movies, as well as a conductor that barely spoke English. But it was completely different than the train in The Darjeeling Limited. Everything was gray, the food was just this side of edible and we killed no less than eight roaches in the first hour. (Fred vowed not to sleep the whole night.) I loved it. It was so laughably awful that it was an incredible experience that I love having had.

But anyway, the song comes in my head and I immediately start thinking about The Prime of Miss Jean Brody. She's a school teacher at a boarding school in Edinburgh, Scotland. It made me realize that my job would be sort of perfect if it had a sound track and the students acted more like students in a boarding school in 1930's.

If you think that riding to a really old building on a bike to go to work is completely cool, you're right. If it's not your thing, it's not your thing. I need to get a picture of me on my bike in front of the school so I can look back at it in thirty years and see what it feels like to look at it. I love looking at pictures like that. Takes me back.

The picture above was taken at Angkor Wat last August. It was a very hot day.

What the Right Hand Doesn't Know

2009-03-09T17:59:00.004+01:00

The Dutch government has been getting stricter with its imburgering, or integration, program. I had to go through the integration program when I arrived five years ago. When I was doing it, I talked to a couple of people who had been here much longer who had not done it. They didn't fall into the right category (i.e. they didn't have a Dutch partner), so they were excused or something. That's sort of like the rule that says you can drive with your American drivers license if you're here temporarily (like five years), but if you are here permanently, you have to take the Dutch driving test. I understand the idea, but it doesn't really make sense if you back away from it and get a little perspective.

I know two people at church who've been here for over 25 years. (Have I told this story before? It feels like it, but I have an update.) They're both Americans. One is married to a Dutch guy and one is single. If anyone is integrated, they are. However, they both got letters inviting them to come for their integration interview and sign up for an integration course at their own expense - like €80, or so.

The Dutch, being a very fair people, have to have everyone do the integration course. Of course the rule is aimed at people who moved here 25 years ago and have never bothered to learn the language or blend into the culture. (I'm not sayin' who, but if you're reading this, it's not you.) But if they want one group to do it, they have to make everyone do it. I get it. It's fair. I like fair.

I received my letter on Saturday. I have to report to an office in our neighborhood at 10:00 next Monday. It's completely ridiculous because, as I stated above, I completely my integration course years ago. Fortunately, I have the documentation filed away neatly and all I have to do is pop the file in my man purse and head out. However, it just smacks of that old saying, "The right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing."

If your job is to send out letters to all the recent (and not so recent) immigrants, wouldn't it save time (and postage) to have a list of people who've already completely the course? The answer is yes. So I have to take time out of my morning (before work) next Monday and show up to hand someone my documentation that they should already have.

And it's not like they don't have access to this information. I went to the city hall a couple of weeks ago and the woman printed out a paper that had everything on it: the date I arrived in Amsterdam, our wedding date, my address, my parent's names, etc. They know everything, so it stands to reason that they should know that I've done their silly course.

Bureaucracy and red tape are not just for America or third world countries. Politicians are politicians and civil servants are civil servants even in the land of windmills and prostitutes.

Fred took the letter to work this morning with the promise of calling and asking why the didn't already know this and couldn't they get their act together and not waste my time because I have a job to go to! Of course he won't say it like that. He's Dutch and he's very polite.

Junk Mail?

2009-03-08T17:48:00.004+01:00

The day I took this photo, a friend of Fred's asked me why I was taking it. (Because...I need a reason to take a picture?) I said that it was because it was so different from mail slots in the US. First of all, I don't think I ever lived in a house or apartment with a letter slot in the front door, but if I did, it certainly wouldn't have said, "brieven," which means "letters" - as in post - in Dutch. I like how old this one looks. It's nicely weathered and was on on the front door of a house on a canal.

There's also the matter of these little signs "Nee" and "Ja." I never had that in the US either. They're answering two different questions. Do you want this kind of junk mail and Do you want that kind of junk mail. We used to have two "Nee" signs on our mail slot. I say used to because they changed them out a few months ago to these fancy new brass mail slots, and when they took away all the old weathered aluminum mail slots, they took our stickers too.

My friend, Mary, once told me that she really liked getting all the junk mail. "You can find some really good deals," she said. When I posed to Fred that we change at least one of the stickers, he said it was just a bunch of junk and he didn't want to deal with it. I said, okay and didn't think about it.

Then they changed the mail slots and now the junk mail deliverers see no sticker to mean that yes, we would like all the offers you have. We get a pile of stuff every day. I went through it the first couple of times. It was about a half inch of papers offering great deals on things I would never buy at stores I have never been to.

The one up-side is that the bulk of it comes wrapped in plastic so it's easy enough to bring it upstairs, take off the plastic and put it in the recycling bag. The downside is that our mailbox always has some paper offering in it. And some of the ding-dongs in our building just throw all the mess on the floor of the entry hall. How is that a logical solution to the problem?

Many years ago, a guy I worked with did something to me that was so mean and awful and humiliating that I literally left where we were and cried my way down the Seventh Avenue in NYC. In those days, I occasionally got little packets of postcards in the mail offering information on a product or a trail subscription on a magazine. Most of them were postage paid. All you had to do was fill in your information and drop it in the mail box. The problem with those things is that they'll keep sending you information and they sell your name to other companies so you get more junk mail. Are you seeing where this is going?

I filled the guy's name and address in on the cards and every day I took a couple of them and dropped them in the mail box on my way to work. I did it for a couple of weeks and then forgot about it. A couple of months later, my friend, Chris, saw this guy in a bar and talked to him. At one point, the guy said, "Every day my mailbox is filled with junk mail and magazines. It's crammed full every single day." Chris nodded. Then the guy said, "I know it was Andy. It has his name written all over it."

I don't really have access to that sort of thing here. Probably a good thing. And the junk mail thing? It's not my original idea, but use it as your own.

Roots

2009-03-07T14:29:00.004+01:00

I ride down this street on a fairly regular basis. It's a nice street with some large, unattached houses that are well kept up. What's not kept up is the street. You sort of have to see the long lines of trees that run in the "park" between the two streets on which the houses are located to get the big picture of the problem. The trees are beautiful in any season and the "park" (it's not really a park, more just a green space) is a nice bit of nature to ride by regularly.

The problem is that the big roots of these really big trees are pushing up the bricks that make up the street. (I also really like that the streets are made of bricks.) It makes that side of the street all but unusable. In the photo above, a random guy turned down the street when I was taking this picture and he went to the right where the street is flat - of course. In the morning, when there are many more bike riders - like me - on this street, that one side gets fairly crowded. We're all bunched up on the good side of the street.

What can be done about this? I imagine they could take the bricks up, shave off some of the root and put the bricks back, but that would probably kill the tree or something. It's one of those huge problems that I'm glad I don't have to deal with.

On another bike path near us, which happens to be asphalt, they simply shaved the asphalt down. It's still slightly lumpy, but it's a huge improvement. Bricks are a different thing.

These are completely different road problems than I've ever had to deal with. There aren't many (if any) brick roads in the part of Texas I hail from, and in NYC the trees don't generally get this big. (I've heard that the average life expectancy of a tree in NYC is seven years.) And if they are this big, they aren't generally next to a street like this.

I like the trees and I like the brick roads. I just don't like what the roots do to the brick roads. Again, I'm glad it's not my problem to solve. But someone ought to.

Everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything about it. (One of my favorite quotes. Who said it?)

In the Background

2009-03-06T18:20:00.003+01:00

Today in a Ravelry group, I read about a survey about men and knitting. And because I am the type of person who takes surveys, I took the survey.

There were some general demographic questions regarding age and income and then there was a question about how big my stash is. (For anyone not 'in the know,' a stash is all the unknitted yarn one owns.) The answers ranged from '0-10' balls gradually all the way up to 500+. I can't imagine having that much yarn.. I put myself in the 30-50 ranged and it think that's stretching it. It's probably right below 30. Then it asks a lot of other stuff about how you think men are viewed in the knitting world and about the amount of patterns and books geared towards male knitters. And then it asks about your perception of men who knit.

You can take the survey if you're a knitter - or crafter. It's interesting if you like surveys. A guy named Kyle Kunnecke is going to write a book on men and knitting. It's always nice to help a guy out. Go on over if you're a crafter. Feel excluded if you're not.

Warning: sudden subject change

I'm really glad that today is Friday. Somehow, the bulk of my work got pushed to the end of the week for the next several weeks, so it's completely the opposite of what I would prefer, which is to have the end of the week less busy. It's a lot of work to figure out how to manage it. (It's almost like working in an office the whole week, but it's exhausting in a different way.)

Warning: another sudden subject change

I bought the yarn in the picture a few weeks ago because it was pretty and because I'd heard good things about Manos Silk Blend. Then I proceeded to search for a pattern. After several attempts at finding a pattern, I found one on Ravelry. (Ravelry again?) This pattern is called the Lace Rib Scarf. Not the most exciting name, but it's an easily-memorized four row repeat - definitely what I was looking for.

One side has a rib pattern and the other side has a sort of a lace pattern. It doesn't really look that lacy to me, sort of cabley, but not really. It's sort of a girly scarf with a boy color. It's not for me. It's just to use up the yarn. The idea was to have this going for times when I needed something simple I could knit and not have to think about - like for Stitch 'n Bitch. I need to get back to my aran sweater because I want to finish it because I want to do a lace shawl. I'm itching to do some real lace.

That's sort of what I love about knitting the most. There are constantly new projects to start and finish.

Dyeing Party

2009-03-05T17:49:00.002+01:00

Yesterday, some of my knitting friends got together and had a little dyeing party. I'd never dyed before. It's one of those things I hear about on podcasts, but which sounds confusing, unpredictable and messy. However, since a space, dyes and the support of other people dyeing was being provided, I went.

We started off by using some natural dyes. Then we moved on to Kool-Aid and then I used some Ashford dyes, which are chemicals.

The natural dye was originally oak galls and then we added logwood, which was supposed to turn it purple. That didn't happen. It came out this light brown/golden color (It looks much more orange here than it actually is) on my yarn and just sort of messed with the other yarns, which varied from reds and oranges to white. The verdict of the other participants on it was "yucky." I was just happy that mine was no longer pale yellow. I've had some pale yellow in my stash for way too long.
Kool-Aid is an amazing product. We'd heard a couple of different things about it, and some people had experimented with it. Malia got a shipment of Kool-Aid in and some of us played with that. Dagmar used some pink lemonade on a little handspun and then sat and knitted. (I know, right?) I took the last bit of a striped gray and beige monstrosity that Fred picked out years ago and used grape Kool-Aid on it. The yarn soaked it up really fast. It was like it was asking for it - Please help me stop being a boring yarn! Interestingly, the water becomes clear when all of the dye is soaked up in the yarn. One of those things you hear about, but it's amazing to see it happen.

The green is from some Ashford dyes that mix pretty much like paint. I used yellow and blue (you might want to write this down) to make green. It keeps changing as it dries. I like how green it is. I've heard you can't get a good green with natural stuff.

I used orange Kool-Aid on these Melina gloves that I made a while back. I wanted something bright since they'll be fore a child. I got it. Another interesting tid-bit is that Kool-Aid adds something called "LAKE" to flavors that it doesn't want to be completely clear. Hence, the water never turns completely clear. It was sort of a milky orange when I decided to call it quits and take the mittens out of the dye bath. They were put in the microwave for a couple of minutes (two minutes each time) to set the dye. Ever spilled Kool-Aid on yourself? I don't think the microwave is that necessary. And the yarn smelled like orange and grape when it was over, which made Cassandra a little ill.
The last thing I did was take a fairly boring brown cotton yarn and used some red Ashford dye on it. It came out looking the color of raw meat when it was wet. As it dries, it's looking more and more orange. It'll be fine for a baby bib or something. The new color opens up some new options and I always think baby bibs when I see cotton.

Years ago, I did The Artist's Way with a friend in NYC. The author, Julia Cameron, is really big on having artist dates and doing creative things to get your mind thinking and get your creative juices flowing. It felt a little "bad" to do this yesterday. But I think it's really important to play and experiment and create. My life is certainly not the life of average 43-year-old man from my home town. This sort of stuff is part of the reason why.