1st Amsterdam trip 8/22/09

I dropped off Aaron at the airport in Amsterdam this Saturday for his Vancouver business trip and decided to drive through Amsterdam a bit as I had never visited it. I wanted to cross going to the Van Gogh museum off my bucket list, so I set the tomtom and off we went. We got there in no time, but the line outside was so long, and I had Ezra, Micah and Granny with me, so I decided to come back some other time. Instead we just drove around the city. Amsterdam's streets are narrower then a sidewalk in a strip mall in America. Parked cars line the canals that criss cross the city. Next to the line of cars are 8-10 feet wide roads between the houses that are joined one to another, row for row. Some of the houses are no more than 8 feet wide, just enough for a door and a window to fit on one side, but instead they make up for space in height, being 3-4 stories tall. I've never been inside one yet, but I'm guessing they are dark and have lots of stairs.
Anyway, lots to see. We'll go back again and take a boat trip with the kids when Aaron is back from Vancouver.

Week of Woe (beware, rant ahead!)

So we moved into our house on Tuesday. It is really large, has a bathroom and a huge bedroom on the bottom floor, and cost less than all the other houses we looked at. It also has a large garden and great closet spaces. That said, everything else blows for the moment. Almost everything needs fixing. Looks can be so deceiving. Then the day we moved in I got really, really sick. In German we call it Angina, which is a very painful infection of the throat. I wonder if that's the same as strep throat. It was probably one of the worst days I've had. It was miserably hot, 32 degrees celsius, no fans, no a/c, just lying in a pile of boxes in our messy, filthy house. The owners said they would have it cleaned but they didn't (for years I think). After only one hour barefoot on our floors the kids feet looked liked we had sent them working in a coal mine. Then on top of that, because of the exchange rate from dollar to Euro being so crappy, we were several thousand dollars short on our budget. Here in Holland you have to pay cash everywhere or use the pin card you get from your bank, which we did get on Friday, but Aaron doesn't get paid until he gets his soffit number, which he hasn't yet. So here we are, almost no food, can't go shopping because I'm so sick, pinching pennies in a house that needs fixing and cleaning, Aaron having to work all day, while I'm in so much pain that I can't eat, drink, or swallow, and the kids are so bored, they're jumping on me (really actually jumping, not just figuratively speaking), and of course screaming MOOOMMMMY, MOOOMMMMMY every 4 seconds. If you think I'm exaggerating...I'm really not. I know all kids can get like that but Ezra is like that all the time, because of his handicap, and Micah copies him. Anyway, I'm counting on 2 Nephi 2:2 The Lord will consecrate thine affliction for thy gain.
Well I survived. Feeling better now. I managed to go shopping and clean the upstairs a bit, and get almost everything unpacked. We still need to buy a closet to put our clothes in and we will probably hire a professional cleaner to come clean the years of grime off our floor with some high pressured fancy cleaning device.

Scheveningen Beach and The Windmills at Kinderdijk

I really need to get the pictures up. I prefer seeing pictures. Too bad this lame camera we brought from the US doesn't have the cord so I can download the pictures we took today.
Today was a perfect day. It started out with a solo trip to the market for mommy, to buy lots of delicious fruit and vegetables. After returning home and trying to use every square inch of our tiny fridge to keep our veggies cold we packed everyone plus pic-nic into the Volvo and made for the beach.
With help of Jane (we call our TomTom Jane), we made it to the Scheveningen beach in an 1 and 30 minutes. The weather was perfect, a mere 26 degrees, abundant sunshine, and lots of wind to keep us cool. The beach was packed, and so were the parking spots. After 45 minutes we finally found a spot on a street that was over a small dune. I felt bad for having my mom walk so far, but was happy that once we arrived at the beach, we found table and chairs in a childrens play area that was on the boardwalk. Ezra and Micah loved jumping on the trampoline and of course Micah was all about the ball pit. 3 Euros for 20 minutes. Worth it, I thought. We had our pic-nic and took the kids down to the ocean for a swim. Micah did his cute little excited happy dance and enjoyed just sitting in the little pool created by an elevated sandbank. We looked for seashells together. Ezra and daddy walked along the beach. Neither of the kids were very excited about the waves, or going into them. In fact both of them were rather scared. I hope that changes. Aching for a real swim I did get to sneak back after they were jumping on the trampolines again.

Scheveningen Beach by Den Haag

Two and half hours later the kids had enough. It took us 45 minutes to drive 2km, the traffic at the beach was so bad, and Jane completely lost it trying to talk us into driving into one way streets and pedestrian walk zones. Good thing I'm still smart enough to find my way out of the city. Jane and I were on good terms again when she lead us safely to the Kinderdijk, where we visited the perhaps most famous icon of Holland: the windmills. There were several windmills even working ones that were built in 1740. We got to go inside one of them which was actually rather unremarkable aside the steepness of the stairs. Nonetheless we loved the outing because we strapped Ezra and Micah on rental bikes and got to see the whole Dijk. Both of them complained and Micah at first was so scared he covered his eyes with his hands and cried, until he saw that Mommy wasn't completely incompetent. On the way back he even sang a bit. Anyway, typically what would have happened, had we walked is that after 20 yards, Micah would have started complaining and wanted to be picked up. Then Ezra would have wanted to be picked up as well, and before we had gone 30 yards they would both be crying and hanging around my neck. I would be annoyed, and rather than drag 60 lbs worth of children for any length of time, I would have just gone back to the car. This way, we got some complaining, but got to see everything. Very fun. Can't wait until we get my bike.

Kinderdjik in Netherlands August 2009

In the mission field

One of the blessings of living in Europe is that the General Authority of our Church realizes that the Saints in Europe need extra support and strength, as they are practically an island of believers in an ocean of apathy and atheism. I had the privilege of attending a fireside with Sister Sheri L. Dew and Sister Nelson in Utrecht. We got lost on the way there (why do highways have several different names, and E30's are really not exit signs, rather streets). We arrived at 7:25 pm. The fireside had started at 7 PM. The small building was packed, but some nice brother found my mom a chair to sit, and I weaseled my way into the congregation and found a standing spot next to the dividing doors. I was almost grateful to stand because it was so incredibly hot. No air conditioning and 300 people packed in row by row. I felt sorry for Sister Dew who was standing up there. She looked as if nothing would faze her, but she didn't fool me. I knew that she was dying under that long sleeved jacket, long skirt and nylons she was wearing. She confirmed later to me that she had been. We had just turned up when she was giving her message. She said that if she were Satan and had to make sure we didn't accomplish our mission in life she would do three things: 1. she would make us get confused about our gender, and about our worth, making us think we had to prove ourselves to men, weren't good enough, could only be valuable if we had a career.
2. she would make sure we didn't understand the atonement of Christ and it's healing power.
3. she would prevent us from learning how to get personal revelations

She then said that she feels it is her mission in life to help us accomplish our mission in life, and if she had the chance to do that these are what the things she would have us do:
1. she would help us understand our worth
2. she would help us understand the atonement
3. and she would teach us how to gain personal revelation

I came away from the meeting so edified, and wondering what the world would be like if all women understood and lived the gospel like Sister Dew and Sister Nelson.

I never finished this post the night I came home because it was so late. Too bad. Should have stayed up.

Darker than white

What is it with Duch and their aversion to all color? We stipulated in the house we are renting that it needs to be repainted and that we want to chose the colors, and it should be pastel, neutral (we are sensitive of course to preferences), but that it couldn't be white. They had already bought the paint before we got there. Suspicious I drove up to see the house today. I walked into the front room, and sure enough the guy is painting it white. I complain to him in German which is all he understands that I didn't want white. He says: oh no, that's not white. That is cream. It's much darker than white". And I wanted to yell at him and say: ARE YOU BLIND??? Half a shade darker than the white ceiling is still blinding white! Anyway, I can see I'll have to take painting and color addition into my own hands.

Found the House

So much to report. First off, we finally decided on a house. It is ugly from the outside. A cubicle. In fact, I think our car a Scion XB next to our house might look quite comical. People might get the wrong impression that we like boxy. We wanted to pick the house in Eersel so badly with it's sun room addition, beautiful garden, quiet surroundings and 220 m2. Eersel is a quaint village 12 minutes drive South of Eindhoven. It is surrounded by trees. The cobble stoned streets are lined with little brick buildings, with proudly manicured gardens. Tables and chairs invite visitors to sit and enjoy a coffee in the main street. But I just couldn't really go with it. The agent reassured us there were lots of expatriates living in Eersel, and young families but the three times I drove through the town all I saw was senior citizens with their walkers. A poll of random people on the Genneper Parken Playground resulted in 100% confirmation of my suspicion that people who are born in Eersel don't move away and tend to be close minded and it is hard to get integrated. The deciding factor was taking my kids to the playground close to the house. I don't know who designed it, but they must have worked for the army boot camp. No toddler should be allowed on a slippery iron log contraption with no railings. Micah hurt himself. So we chose the cubicle in Best. It gets my creative juices flowing. The garden will be splendid once it's emptied of all the junk. It's right next to the train station, and it will cost us 400 Euros less than we planned which means that we'll have 14400 Euros over the next three 3 years to pay towards our student loans instead. Hurray!

Anyway, this was meant to be a much longer insert, but I got chatting with my friend instead.

Brussels, Waffles, Fries and Mitraillette

When leaving the States I was so worried about what I was leaving behind, the conveniences, playgrounds, friends and familiar stores that I forgot completely what I could look forward to. Today I was reminded what makes Europe great to me. We packed up the kids and granny and drove down to Grand Place in Brussels, a mere hour and a half in the car, after making a little detour to the airport to pick up our missing suitcase. I'm very proud of the fact that I found my way straight into the city. So much was still familiar. We were all hungry and cranky so we parked next to novotel and made a B-line for the first place advertising Belge Frites. I was eager to have my kids taste the mother of all fries, the original, the way they were intended to taste, but they hardly ate any. I think they were confused by the size of the fries, or just plain grumpy. Ezra preferred to eat the ketchup with the mini plastic fork they provided for the fries. Aaron, Granny, and I ordered Mitraillettes, a Belgian treat. Not sure who exactly invented it. A mitraillette is half a baguette (wider than a normal baguette), with a thin crunchy crust and a very soft inside in which they put a sauce of your choice, then some salad (usually lettuce, corn, and carrots), and then some cooked meat of your choice, and fill it up with fries. They are extremely yummy, but somewhat hard to get your mouth around.
After at least the adults were satisfied we headed over to Novotel to change Micah's diaper, and then made our way past the market with the precious arts, down the cobble stoned narrow alley ways to the Gallery Royale de Saint-Hubert. The Gallery is just what the name implies. It is an archway that in and of itself is beautiful to look at and walk through, with frescos and columns four stories high, curving in a glass roof that covers the length of the archway. Stores line both sides of the gallery, their window fronts works of art in and of themselves. We could only restrain the children with difficulty from running into the numerous chocolatiers that had their candy displayed in the most tantalizing towers. Aaron got them a treat a little further down at his favorite belge chocolate store, Leonidas. Just one alley over we coaxed our still fussy and grumpy kids on to grand place. I'm not sure what I expected, maybe an "ooooo" or "ahhh", but the kids couldn't have cared less. Aaron and I however took a deep breath almost as if to inhale the magnificent beauty of this 700 year old plaza and had to reassure each other over and over that we were really here, living only an hour drive away from the city we both love so much(for those of you who don't know, we both served as missionaries in this city). We proceeded through the Grand Place and saw that for the first time the gates of the hotel de ville were open. We immediately headed over there to take a look. As we took turns looking at the courtyard, the kids finally found something interesting enough to get their attention; the metal board with the historic information that was in the entry way. They took turns hiding behind it, laughing and giggling as they played peekaboo with each other.
Antsy for a belge waffle I had the kids follow me down the corner and past Grand Place, where I bought them their first real belge waffle. The kids have been obsessed with waffles as of late, and I would like to think that their smile was slightly bigger than usual when eating these ones. As I ordered my hot french Gaufre de Liege in French from my favorite place Belgaufra, a little stand in the wall, I realized that all my worries had been for nothing. I may have left the familiar conveniences, stores and friends that I loved behind in the US, but no matter how American I have become, I was raised in Europe, and the shoe still fits. I love the history and the awe that expands my mind and seems to fill my whole body like water on parched land, when I stand in magnificent places where people have lived and worked for almost a millenia, and to see it in tact and magnificent still. I love the food, the smell, the sound of different languages spoken all around me, and being able to converse with people in a language that isn't my own. I will always be a citizen of two continents my heart divided between them both, but for now I'm grateful to be back after 8 years absence.