blogness

Dearest fabulous friends and family,

I have regrettably been out of touch with many of you in recent days, weeks, months, etc. Such is the nature of our often awesomely busy lives. Alas, I am finally on sabbatical and thankfully have more than a second to recap what I have been struggling with and achieving these days past. Perhaps my flood of endeavors will inspire you. I would definitely fancy hearing about your many adventures and moments of debauchery. So do tell, indeed!

I am writing these ramblings to yall from my transient apartment in the Netherlands. Somehow or another I finagled my way back to Amsterdam. Throwing caution and credit to the wind I have landed back in het Nederlands; a world of cobblestone streets, brown cafes, tulips, Van Gogh, shoarma, herring, red lights, legalized euthanasia, bicycles and multiculturalism.

For the past year I have been working as an architectural assistant for a very smart and thoughtful man. He encourages me to make diverse plans concerning all my interests in life and is whole-heartedly flexible when it comes to enabling me to realize them. Moreover, when I decided to come out to him, he barely blinked an eyelash. How lucky am I? At any rate, when I told him of my possible plans to return to Amsterdam for the month of January to partake in an intensive Dutch language course, he simply got out his calendar to mark the dates I would be away. So here I am in my hip, little and inexpensive apartment I found on Craigslist awaiting school to begin on Maandag. I decided to trek all the way across the big, cold Atlantic because ever since studying at Universiteit Leiden in 2001-2002 I have not been able to shake the thought of returning to live and work here in a more permanent fashion. That sentiment was amplified for me even further last May when five friends and I ventured to Amsterdam and spent seven long and glorious days exploring the city together only to call a charming little houseboat near Rembrantsplein home.

So here I am, alone, in this beautiful city for an entire month to learn the language and decipher just precisely where it is that I am headed. After working in architecture for a year I have determined it is not the field for me although I definitely have no intention of leaving my job anytime soon. My position is certainly the most optimal one I am going to find in Santa Cruz given my current education, skills and aspirations. I am very aware of the fact however that I am in definite need of change. I have been in Santa Cruz seven years and although my employment is presently rather ideal, I am certain it has a short shelf live for me. I’ve given myself a solid year to plan, strategize and throw caution to the wind. Only time will tell where exactly my feet will hit the ground running. Industrial, interior and graphic design interest me as thankfully yet painstakingly does an array of countless other disciplines. Someday soon I hope to figure out just what it is I want to be when I grow up. In the meantime, I elected to seize some solitude and see where these vivid visions of my life in Dutch can transport me.

There you have it; where I am and everywhere I am headed. As for wherever I’ve been the stories are both various and varied. Generally however I have been chaotic and cheerful in sunny Santa Cruz. My winter formal birthday bash, the holidays and New Years flew by far too quickly and suddenly it is 2006. Who knew? When I wasn’t party planning, traveling to San Francisco, cooking or entertaining I was relaxing- in my own frenzied fashion- and enjoying the company of all the brilliant individuals who surround me in my everyday life. Trips to the beach with the dogs, runs along West Cliff, excursions to Monterey to see classics on the Golden State Theater silver screen, presto logs pared with extraordinary company, stellar sushi dates and numerous other diversions all induced these past winter days to seem that much warmer even given the hectic tension that so often fills the air near the holidays.

Everyday, I feel overwhelmingly lucky to call the existence I inhabit my own. One of my few regrets in life, because really regret itself can be such a waste of time, is that more often that not I spread myself far too thin and don’t get to habitually communicate with all the marvelous people I’ve had the pleasure of becoming friends with in my now twenty-seven years. So with that said, I hope you enjoy my tales and pictures of living, Nederlands style. I trust everyone is enjoying a safe, amusing, healthy and intense New Year! Feel free to send me your stories. I love and miss you all.

Heartfeelings,

Dylan

Sunday, January 1st, 2006

Nathan and Veronica dropped me off at SFO at ten at night. They left their new electric heated mattress pad, new tv/dvd/vcr combo, new Netflicks subscription and two sweet and warm little doggies at home just to drive me through the pouring rain all the way to San Francisco. What sweethearts. After a heartfeelings goodbye we parted ways and I began my adventure across the Atlantic all by my lonesome self.

I was a little pooped upon arriving at SFO as the night before was New Years Eve. I had spent the holiday in Santa Cruz instead of in the city as I felt I was fighting a cold and no way was I going to be sick my first week in Amsterdam. Nonetheless, it’s New Years Eve and one still has social responsibilities. However, despite my late night escapades, the extra rest I scored coupled with the massive amounts of vitamin popping I endured in the days leading up to my trip, I somehow managed to keep my immune system relatively in check for the imminent trip. So trudging my way through check-in and security I began the first of two handsome red eyes.

Monday, January 2nd, 2006

After a four and a half hour flight I landed in Atlanta. It was 4:00am California time, 7:00am Atlanta time when we touched down. Despite my efforts I doubtfully slept more than an hour on the plane. Fortunately however some smarty pants in planning helped select airport seats sans armrests in one lonely precious gate. Bless that human being! Securing my belongings, I proceeded to sleep five hours straight of my ten and a half hour layover. Bless Benedrayl! After coming to drooling on myself and being watched by passengers who had now filled the previous empty gate I ventured towards the bright lights, overpriced and generally dreadful cuisine of the illustrious airport food court. I opted for chicken, veggies, salad and horrifyingly sweet lemonade. People and clock watching, I ate and waited. Eventually, I finished my chow and obtained my boarding pass; I had tried to acquire it earlier but they informed me as I was so early it was not yet available. I made my way to the gate, read, flapped on the phone with Veronica and Jenny and ultimately boarded the plane for my second remarkable red eye.

We took off at 2:30pm California time, 5:30pm Atlanta time, 11:00pm Amsterdam time. I ended up near the end of the plane next to a middle aged American man who was living with his wife and kids and working in Den Haag. I told him of my aspirations and he gave me some advice as to how to find work in The Netherlands. Bottom line: it’s difficult, maybe find a nice Dutch girl to marry or work for Shell (He worked for an oil company although it wasn’t Shell). Encouraged and inspired- well not really- I took his additional advice and scored two empty seats a few rows ahead. Having two seats to myself made the nearly nine hour flight bearable. However, the cheapest ticket I found in my last minute search was Delta and I now know why it was so economical compared to the rest. The plane was so old skule I thought VH1’s We Love the 70s was going to come aboard to archive it. For example, the movie experience was quite a drastic change from my last trip to Amsterdam on KLM. On that flight each person had ones own screen from which one could choose from easily forty diverse movies. This might seem a trivial detail but on a long flight details make a world of difference. At any rate, the big screen up front showing Sky High, a fine film about youth at a superhero high school, a couple interesting dozes of airplane food, several blankets and pillows plus the muscle relaxer Lisa Kirk gave me and the beauty of inhabiting two seats all by myself made those nine hours practically fly by. I slept perhaps three hours of the flight and decided maybe jet lag is simply a mind over matter kind of deal. Although, if one is going to embark upon a long flight I suggest getting ‘NO-JET-LAG’ a homeopathic remedy for travel fatigue. It is available at fine health food stores and even has a website http://nojetlag.com. Marsea gave us all some on our trip to Amsterdam last May and that was without a doubt the easiest transition I had ever experienced in crossing the Atlantic.

So finally at 11:00pm California time…

Tuesday, January 3rd, 2006

8:00am Amsterdam time our plane landed at Schipol Airport. After a delay in taxiing the plane at the gate, we were finally allowed to return to the world of non-pressurized, dehydrating air. I proceeded through Passport Control where no one seemed to notice my passport still identifies me as female. Whew. And onward I went to collect my baggage. After seizing my belongings and gearing into packhorse mode I made my way through the airport, grabbed some euros at the ATM, bought a one-way ticket to Amsterdam and eventually schlepped my bags aboard the train. From Schipol Airport to Amsterdam Centraal is about fifteen minutes by train. At this point I was thinking, “Am I really freakin’ back?”

After my brief but pleasurable ride into the city I loaded up again and headed straight towards the train station lockers. Putting my bags through an x-ray machine, which is a new addition to the locker process, I became a little worried about being stopped for the needles for my testosterone shots. I think the man watching the screen had a puzzled look on his face but nevertheless let me through. So I stashed my bags and headed out into the chilly, bright morning. Walking down the Dam I made my way towards Rembrantsplein where I stopped into Le Monde to say hi to my old friend Aswaldo. After catching up and having een café I left Aswaldo in search of my new home.

I knew where my flat was from mapquesting it earlier back in the States but wasn’t going to be able to get inside until 15:00. I figured I might as well explore the neighborhood however and scout the place out. Walking south of Rembrandtsplein I become conscious of how fantastic it feels to be in the open air and walking, especially after spending over twenty-four hours either in an airport or on an airplane. Making my way to my new street, I realized I had left the actual address in my bags. So I walked the block and slyly peered into various open windows along the street. As little orphan Annie said best, “I think I’m gonna like it here”.

For the rest of the afternoon I walked the city. I stopped for some frites met mayonnaise. Warm fries in a paper cone with mayonnaise on a cold day are a true treat. Seriously. I walked the shopping streets imagining all the goodies I’d love to bring back to every soul I know back in the states. Eventually, I passed by one of my and Dexter’s favorite bars ‘The Web’. It being two in the afternoon there were but a few people inside. I had a Heineken, which is nothing like a Heineken one gets in the States. The beer here is much better. It must have something to do with the pasteurization process. I finished my beer, headed towards Centraal Station, grabbed my bags and climbed aboard tram 25. After missing my stop, having to get on another tram, getting off at the wrong stop again, walking for about ten minutes with all my baggage, I finally made it to my apartment. Ringing the bell several times I eventually realized Eymert wasn’t home just yet. Fortunately, a man has just moved in downstairs and is working on remodeling the space. I was able to borrow his cell phone. Contacting Eymert he told me he would be there in fifteen. Sitting on my stoop in the cold waiting for Eymert, again, I thought “Am I really here?” Eventually Eymert passed by and parked and we made our way up the winding staircase into my temporary abode. He showed me around, gave me the tour, collected my deposit and had me sign a month long lease. We chatted and I gave him my scoop. He told me he had wanted to learn Swedish years ago. He somehow or another ended up with a Swedish boyfriend, they only spoke Swedish at home and now he’s fluent. I’d say that’s one fine way of learning a language.

After awhile Eymert left and I tooled around my new home. The flat belongs to a dancer. She is on tour in region Brazil. Eymert and she are close friends. Ingrid- the dancer- is messier than I but seems an interesting soul.

Tired and hungry I wandered down the street towards a shoarma grill and ended up eating kip filet (chicken) for dinner. Satiated and sleepy I headed home at nearly 19:00 Amsterdam time to crash in my new, quiet and peaceful little home.

Wednesday, January 4th, 2006

It’s three o’clock in the afternoon or 15:00 as they say here and I’m ready for a nap. I think the cold North Sea air is supplementing my jet lag. A few days and I’ll no doubt be back on schedule. I got up at six-thirty this morning. On my own! I waited a good forty-five minutes before visions of warm coffee and tasty treats overwhelmed my senses and persuaded me out from under the cozy haven of my down comforter.  Not sure of when the markets open, I putzed around the apartment for a spell. The thought of bundling up, venturing out and being denied was not an experience I wanted to live that early in the morning. Thus, unpacking my bags I found a place for everything so that everything is in its place in my funky, multi-colored, temporary abode.

I forgot how quiet ones existence is in a foreign realm. At least at first.  I’ve most likely uttered fewer than a dozen sentences today whereas at home I’d have spoken that well before breakfast. I had forgotten this quiet solitaire space. Often lonely but always worth it.

Transforming ones surroundings to feel more like home is thus fundamental in such said situations. A little tidying, a little beautification, and a few of my other favorite things equals an apartment that feels somewhat more like where I should be.

After an hour of sheveling, I ventured out to the market. I carefully studied an unknown route before leaving but opted to not depart with the map. Without question the optimum means to become familiar with a place is by getting lost. I know much of Amsterdam like the back of my hand. This fact is unquestionably a result from getting lost time and time again three years ago. However, my new neighborhood is farther south of the city center. New ground.

They are doing construction downstairs. It is loud.  But at least it might deter me from taking that nap. Oy vey!

So with my mental map folded and ready I set off to explore the neighborhood and acquire groceries. I walked for about forty minutes. Right on Van Woustraat. Left on Tweede Jan Steenstraat. Right on Ferdinand Bolstraat which turns into Weteringlaan which turns into Vijzelgracht. The morning air was chilly and brisk but bearable. I passed numerous markets; a few of the well known ‘Albert Heijn’ chains as well as countless independent Turkish and Surnames stores. None of the shops drew me in. I was too excited to simply be out, walking, enjoying the bright morning sans rain without any formal agenda. Eventually the cold air and walking took hold and I realized how hungry I was. I headed back towards my place via Albert Cuypstraat. The entire length of this street is an open air market that transpires year round. One can purchase fresh fish, stockings, jackets, frites met mayonnaise, fo-fur, shoes and of course tulips amongst countless other goods. However, overwhelmed by Albert Cuypstraat I ended up buying groceries a couple blocks from my apartment at an independent Turkish store.

I only purchased a couple basics and the ingredients to ‘menemen’ my favorite Turkish breakfast Sylvia taught me how to make when I was here in 2000. Trekking home I proceeded to make menemen.

Menemen (Turkish Scrambled Eggs)    

Ingredients: 1 Onion, 4 Tomatoes, 4 Green hot peppers, 5 tbsp. Butter, 8 Eggs, Salt, Pepper, 1tsp. Mild paprika powder

Chop the onion finely. Cut a cross in the top of the tomatoes and put them in hot water. Remove the skins. Cut the tomatoes into small pieces. Wash the peppers and cut them into very small rings. Heat the butter in a big skillet. Sautee the onion until soft, then add peppers and tomatoes and fry for another 2 to 3 minutes. Beat the eggs with salt and pepper and paprika powder. Pour mixture over vegetables. Keep stirring with a fork until set. (Serve on nice fresh homemade or -of course- Turkish bread). Be careful with the peppers. Peppers used here are the Turkish kind, a cross between paprika’s and hot peppers. Remove the seeds to make them less hot.

(http://www.recipesource.com/ethnic/africa/middle-east/turkish/00/rec0010.html)

After enjoying my menemen and taking a reading break I ventured out again into the bright and crisp day. One of my first aims for the afternoon was to locate an adaptor for my laptop. I failed to realize the one I bought back in California only works for two pronged plugs, not three like the one on my computer. I ended up at a store down the street from my flat where the salesman directed me across town. After hopping on a tram and making my way to the store I obtained the right adaptor. Success. Bundled up and ready, I perused the streets and shops without direction. Ultimately, I ended up near Centraal Station where I fought the hustle and bustle crowds and dashed into the WC. It was here that Joe, my travel companion, informed me it was photo shoot time. I’ve neglected to mention Joe thus far as although we are staying here together we more often than not are enthralled in our own independent worlds. Joe, formally known as ‘Government Issue’ stowed away in my luggage unbeknownst to me. He simply needed to get away… “taste the air of foreign land, see the sights of unfamiliar terrain and touch the exotic and magical world that lies waiting before me”… his own words. Thus, although we are both on our own sabbaticals, we like to occasionally hang out together, especially if it involves a photo shoot.

So after a Vogue like fashion shoot with Joe we hopped on a tram and headed back to our hood. After a couple of days of inquiries around town regarding bike rentals I was repeatedly directed towards a chain called MacBike. However, all the bikes from this shop are red and have giant MacBike logos on the handlebars screaming tourist from many meters away. To therefore attempt to blend in better I asked folks at the bike shops in my neighborhood for suggestions as to where else I might locate an inexpensive bicycle.

I ended up at a local shop and got a great deal on a bike; the best way to get around in the city. So after test riding my new wheels for awhile, I headed to Albert Heijn for some last minute groceries and then worked my way back home. For the rest of the evening I fiddled around on the computer and fought the urge to go to sleep before 22:00.

Thursday, January 5th, 2006

It’s five in the morning and I just woke up. Going back to sleep is useless. It’s not gonna happen. Instead, I’m up and figuring out the day. Nothing like a ‘thing to do’ list makes an early morning brighter.

Twelve hours later and this laptop has become my new best friend. I feel like a mad scientist but am determined to get to a decent place of being caught up with my ridiculously dusty yahoo inbox. My mom sent me her memoirs from her trip on the Queen Mary 2 June 24th, 2004. I finally had the privilege of enjoying them. Better late than never has apparently become one of my recent mantras. At any rate, I promised myself I would take a break today and go for a bike ride however the obsessive compulsive in me just kept going and going and going.

Eventually, mind numbing delirium set in and I took a short break to go to the market. I think that’s one of my favorite aspects of living here and the same could be said of many places around the globe; that is, going to the store and only buying goods you need in the short term instead of stocking up and overloading. Hooray for the small scale and freshness. I love marketing although it is so strange to feel so out of it when I’m out and about in Local Land; my neighborhood is not in Tourist Centraal. Everywhere I go people assume I am Dutch and therefore obviously start speaking Nederlands to me. Next comes the moment where I out myself as a foreigner, speak in broken Nederlands and smile shyly.

Hopefully, beginning on Maandag at least I’ll perhaps be slightly more grounded with the language. My tapes and the cd Vnes made for me help but I’m positively tickled pink to be going to school for Nederlands!

So after a brief jaunt into the outside world I returned to my crazed stance behind the computer screen with but a momentary breather to down some herring met raw onions. Mmmmm. Dutch specialty. Sooner or later I whittled my inbox down to nearly nothing and updated my address books in preparation of commencing with such overdue correspondence. Once again I fought the urge to crash before 22:00 and succeeded!

Friday, January 6th, 2006

Today I slept in. I got up at 6:30am ready for a new day. After getting gussied up I left my apartment and trammed it to Centraal Station for a phone card and a strippenkaart, which is, in essence, many prepaid tram tickets. After acquiring my goods I walked down the Dam in search of a post office to mail off the letter I composed to my mom’s friend who lives in RotterdamShe’s American but has lived in The Netherlands for the past twenty years. I am hoping to meet up with her and see if she has any useful advice for me and my ambitions.

Along the way I stopped and attempted to call back home. I got through to some folks, not to others and of course the credit ran out far too quickly. I also stopped by a small shop for a mini cappuccino and kaas broodje. Cheese sandwiches are a national favorite. By this point it was nearly 8:30am and the sky was just beginning to turn from dark black to a beautiful deep blue. Officially, the sun rises here at 8:50am and sets at 16:45 (4:45pm) at this time of year. Joe and I just had to stop for a photo op.

Continuing on my merry way I eventually found the post office although I had to wait outside for a good ten minutes before they opened. Perfect timing for another photo shoot. For these shots Joe and I posed together. You would think Dutch people had never seen this kind of big guy-little guy friendship before. At any rate, I eventually got all my necessary business taken care of at the post office and resumed my hike back in the direction of my neighborhood. Most everything was still closed at this point. It’s surprising how short the workday seems here. Perhaps it fluctuates with the seasons and daylight hours. Or maybe like most cultures in contrast to life in the States a 30 hour work week versus 60 or even 80 hours yields the best all around results. Who knows?

I took the long way back and did a lot of walking, window shopping and watching. Eventually I made it back to my pad for some lunch, reading and writing. And like that you all have been brought up to speed. Therefore, I believe it is indeed time to send off my rambling travel blog or dare I say log and carry on to attain even more adventures to write of at later date. Success and stay tuned!

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