Mildly confused

My brain is in a complete muddle.  It's like part of it is still with me for the day to day, remembering to remind the kids to take their lunch bag or tennis racket or what have you, and the other part is waaay too busy with other things to be present at all.  It's a little bit like slogging through mud in my brain.  I was told it could be because while I'm still working, part of me has already moved on and is thinking about/planning what comes next.  And for the past three weeks or so I've been halfway between desperate to be finished and freaking out because I'm running out of time.  A totally random state of mind that isn't particularly comfortable.  Missing things from home with impatience mixed in one moment, worrying about not having access to certain things in Holland the next.

The other thing that's thrown me for a bit of a loop is I've only got one week of work left when up until Tuesday I thought I had four.  My host family's plans changed and now I'm done on the first of next month.  It was very odd, 'cause I thought I'd be happy or sad but I was...  Kind of ambivalent.  It's because life chucked a curve ball at my host family, so not the nicest of reasons anyway and I'm sad about that so that's probably part of it.  The other part is probably because I had a count down in my head to keep me slightly saner and to plan outings around and it's just gone poof!!!  Which, again, under normal circumstances isn't a bad thing but it got me completely muddled for a couple of days.  Strange business, brains.

So yeah, where I'm at now is 1: Desperate for some geeking out, 2: in need of some serious hugs, and 3: in a state of mild confusion.  And I'm still trying to figure that last part out.

Shade and Sweet Water y'all

Some recap

So on Friday I went in to Amsterdam (as per my usual) with two particular things on the to do list.  First was to got to the World Press Photo exhibit at the Nieuwe Kerk, and the second was to go to the House of Bols.

The World Press photo exhibit was well worth it.  There are some truly amazing shots included and I almost cried a few times.  You know the pictures are good when that happens.

And the House of Bols.  Well.  The tour part itself was pretty interesting.  It involved the history of the distillery and Genever itself, a room where you could smell all of their liquors and try to identify the flavour and pick your favourite (I liked the Blue Curacao and the Parfait Amour) and another where they walked you through all the basic ingredients without, of course, giving specific quantities or mixes.  And because they've been making spirits since 1575 there's old account books or sales notices tucked away in the odd corner, not to mention the piece by one of Rembrandt's students that was given to the family to pay off a debt.  

And then, of course, we come to the part where they give you booze.  The price of admission covers one cocktail and two shots.  I got a Mai Tai 'cause I know I like those.  The cocktail glass was big, which normally I love.  But the first sip?  WHOOOOO!!!!  The first thing that went through my head was "Well this is a kick you inna teef cocktail!"  I finished most of it.  And then I had two shots!  I tried the Jonge Genever and the Blue Curacao.  The next thing I noticed, of course, was the fact that I was most definitely tipsy, probably close to barely drunk if not juuuust over the line.  This was mainly noticeable because while not actively weaving or stumbling, my brain could tell that my balance was not entirely up to usual standards.  The other contributing factor was the fact that I was babbling at myself in my head.  And I was reminded yet again why I dislike being anywhere near drunk.  I don't like it when most of my brain works except for one or two parts which just got cold cocked.  The working parts get incredible frustrated with myself, and in this case most of it was working.  I'm just very very glad that I wasn't drunk enough to get the headache that usually comes five minutes after the alcohol kicks in. 

I ended up rambling at myself most of the way back to the train station.  The first thing that wandered through my head was "Kick you inna teef.  That's a Pratchettism.  I wonder how many other people wander through life with Terry Pratchett quotes as part of their everyday thought process and their daily language?"  Then I started to analyse the Genever.  It's got a crisp, clear flavour which would probably mix very well with most other alcohols.  Reminds me a bit of Vodka, but not as harsh.  When I was telling my mum about it I said "Think of it like this.  Vodka, as a spirit, is very Russian.  Genever is very Dutch."  That's a bit simplified but basically what it boils down to.  The next thing I noticed was what always happens when I'm drunk or tipsy, same as the headache.  I started getting draggingly tired.  Like, sleepy while walking to the point of not seeing clearly tired.  So I went to Starbucks.  Thank God for coffee.  At that point I'd picked up my dinner so I finally got on the tram and headed back to the train station.

The day ended with a very nice chat with a fellow at the Hilversum station about Dutch history and the fact that I didn't have a rich Dutch boyfriend or girlfriend yet.  It was highly entertaining and a good end to the day.

Oh, and I got a new camera. 

Ttfn

Things I think I'll miss

I was walking back from the Museumplein on the weekend, and thinking about where I was, and realised that there were several things I'm gonna miss when I'm back in North America so I started making a list.  I'm going to miss Amsterdam, quite a bit.  It's the major European city that I've come to know the best at this point, and I enjoy it.  It's old, it's got a fun vibe, it's easy to wander around in, and there's awesome museums.  I'm going to miss M.  He's quite the character, and he's fun.  The rest has to do with being in Europe specifically.  I'm going to miss the knowledge that if I have enough time and money I could just pop over to visit my cousins in Germany for a few days, or spend a week in Italy.  I'm going to miss the sheer number of cultures within easy travel distance, and wealth of history and ideas you can stumble across.  I'm going to miss my morning dose of NPR, 'cause I have a feeling I'm not going to listen to it as frequently as I do now once I get home.  And I'm going to miss having the BBC on my television.

On another note, I spent most of last weekend in the van Gogh museum.  I've seen pictures of his paintings before but I didn't really like the ones that get shown most frequently.  A weekend surrounded by his work has changed my opinion quite a bit.  You don't get the full impact of the colours and brushwork from a copy, especially if it's not actual size.  And in many of the prints I've seen it hasn't shown the separation of the colours properly.  His early work is good, but all the works I love are from after he went to Paris.  The colours explode, and the subjects get more varied.  I particularly like his Asian phase.  Two of my favourites are from that period, and a couple from the last few months of his life.  All in all, a very well spent weekend.

And this weekend was much slower, though I did manage to fit two museum/exhibitions in one day.  The EYE film institutes current exhibit and the Rembrandthuis.  That was pretty cool.

 Seven weeks to go.  Bye.

Counting down

So I'm in the final two months now.  Still feeling in a state of limbo.  And all my lovely plans for day trips took a hit over this weekend due to Amsterdam.  Just Amsterdam.  I went to the Van Gogh museum on Friday and discovered it was definitely a two day thing.  I've been wandering around the city often enough over the last year, so now I've got a few areas where I pay less attention to the route and more to what's around me.  The route to Museumplein is one of those.  And because it's the Museumplein there's a bunch of museums and similar things in the area.  So I kept seeing something else I hadn't visited yet but wanted to check out.  And it's looking like a pretty long list, so now I have to figure out what to do with my remaining weekends.

On another note, I've found the absolute best burgers in Amsterdam.  Better than a bunch of places in Vancouver too.  Not quiet as good as Red Mill, but that's to be expected.  It's a tiny little place called Lombardo's, and they have burgers, sandwiches, salads, and fresh juices.  The burgers are cooked to your specification, and the flavour combos of the meat and toppings is a mouthwatering thing.  Tasty, tasty burgers......

And I think I must be allergic to something.  Either a plant that grows here but not at home, or a mold that could be anywhere in the cottage.  I'm fine when I'm out for the day, but as soon as I get back my nose stuffs right up, and my head starts hurting.  It's annoying as heck and very uncomfortable.

That's all form me.  Ttfn.

So, Kingsday

Was interesting.  We ended up wandering around at least a quarter of the central part of Amsterdam, and one of the funniest things (for me) was that Dam square was probably one of the places that it was easiest to move and the least crowded.

Kingsday is a Dutch national holiday generally held on the birthday of the current monarch, but held the day before this year as his birthday falls on a Sunday and they don't do big national parties on Sundays here.  Every city, town, and village holds their own massive party with lots of loud music, food, and alcohol and the occasional mini playland.  The Royals make an appearance in two towns every year.  I don't remember which ones they were in this year.  

The biggest party that everyone says you need to check out is, of course, in Amsterdam.  There's extra trains running in and out Centraal Station all day, and they're all full.  Not sardine like full, but all seats taken full.  We walked through the North end of the Jordaan to Westerpark, then back down through the Centruum to Dam, and finally across in to the Red Light district and Chinatown.

In the North part of Jordaan it's pretty darn quiet on the side streets, but you can only move at a crawl on the main streets.  It's a free for all when it comes to booths on the street.  Most of the food joints have an outside stall, there's random beer bars, and as near as I can tell Kingsday is when everyone and his dog has a garage sale.  So some of the stores have stalls, but most of what I saw was the result of Spring cleaning.  Makes sense, actually.  Amsterdam is not set up in such a way that would make it easy to have garage sales normally.  Then, of course, back down to Dam.  The giant fair from Halloween was back in the centre of everything with associated wurst, poffertjes, oliebollen, friete, and waffles stands.  Oh, and cotton candy.  Dam is where everyone ends up when they want to sit down for a minute or two, so there was the usual crowd around the national monument and (because Kingsday) an absolutely staggering amount of beer detritus including way too much broken glass.

Next is Red Lights and dim sum.  The Red Light district was much as it usually is, only they were all aloud to be drunk and high on the streets instead of in the bars and coffeeshops.  So it was more crowded and a heck of a lot louder.  In the Red Light district, Kingsday is pretty much and excuse to start partying earlier and on the street.  The ladies of the area seemed like they might be doing a fair trade (again, makes sense) so there were more lights on in the windows than I usually see in the middle of the afternoon.  Several of the bars had outside music stands and were basting it loud enough to make peoples ears bleed.  And it was so bloody crowded around those places that you had to fight to get through which means your stuck having your pounded longer than you'd like.  It was at this point that my headache started.

Chinatown should perhaps be re-named.  It isn't Chinese specific, as a district.  I think Asian Quarter might be more accurate.  Walking along the street (singular, so quarter might not work as a name change) there were at least five different styles of Asian cuisine.  I saw Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Korean for sure.  Oh, and Dutch, but that's hardly Asian.

At this point the sun was making my headache worse and we were getting hungry and tired so we decided to get food and go home.  The train was very empty, so we got our pick of seats, and blessed quiet.

We split up when we got to Hilversum, so I decided to try a new route back by following the bus route on the bike.  It's quite nice.  Quiet as in no traffic and very pretty.  it makes the uphill part longer, windy, and more annoying so I'd likely only take that route home and never on the way in.  Is topped in Laren to pick up some stuff at the Albert Hijn, and a friendly older gentleman stopped me and asked if I'd enjoyed Kingsday and where I was from, which was nice.

And after that?  After that I just crashed.  TTfN y'all.

Familiarity and other things

I had an odd experience a few days ago.  I went out for a walk because I felt my mind had been to noisy for several weeks and wanted to see if I could still get to the quiet space I used to be able to find more frequently.  I found one of the woodsy areas, walked to the middle and stopped.  I can get to a meditative state much easier in a forested area or someplace slightly more wild.  I also use that to familiarise myself with the land, or the feel of a new country.  So I closed my eyes and just listened, for a while, to the sound of wind in the trees and birds squalling at each other, and did in fact find my centre.  Faster than I thought I would, actually.  The weird thing happened when I opened my eyes.  I'd been thinking about the similarity in sound in different forests and the feel in some of the others I've been in, and when I opened my eyes I had a moment of complete confusion as to where I was.  The thought process went something like "Where the hell am I?  Why the hell does everything look like it does?  Where is here?"  And then the rest of my brain caught up and I thought "Oh right.  Blaricum, the Netherlands."  It was very very strange.  But it made me think about my reaction or interest in some places/countries versus others.  Home is Canada, specifically Vancouver.  It feels like home, and I fit there.  However, another country that could quite easily become home is the United Kingdom.  I haven't been to enough places in it to be able to tell you which area in particular fits best, but the first time I went there I remember stepping off the bus and thinking "This place feels right"  It was familiar in a way that I hadn't encountered before, and felt almost but not quite like home.  For Taiwan and Italy it wasn't familiarity but complete and utter fascination.  Particularly with the cities of Venice and Taipei.  In both cases I was completely caught up in the cities.  The feel of them, the sounds, sights, and smells, and the people and culture.  And in both cases I left feeling absolutely certain I'd go back to both of them and with a hunger to learn more, as much as I could about them in the meantime.  I think about both countries frequently and miss them in a different way from missing home.  Belgium was the same but to a lesser extent.  Not as captivating but still intriguing.  And then there's the absolute non-reaction.  The completely unfamiliar that just doesn't become familiar even if you try.  Germany might be one of these.  I wasn't there long enough to be able to tell.  I'd started becoming familiar with Munich, but in the way you can familiarise yourself with new places, not in the deeper sense of feeling like this was a place you could put down roots.  So I'm not sure about Germany.  But I've been in the Netherlands long enough to tell.  And it is one of the completely unfamiliar that isn't becoming familiar and probably won't.  It's been an interesting place to visit, (and I'm glad I came) but it isn't going to be home.  I've familiarised myself with both Amsterdam and Utrecht, and I enjoy hanging out in both cities quite a lot, but even now I don't feel as though I'd make the choice to move here.  And it's not for lack of trying.  I generally end up in a part way meditative state when I walk and that's how I learn a place, and I walk with the dog a lot.  And I've actively tried to get the feel of the area, and the cities.  It's worked to an extent.  I can halfway zen my way through central Amsterdam and Utrecht, and do the same in Blaricum.  But it still doesn't feel right.

It's been interesting, and a good life experience.  I'm glad I came.

Shade and Sweet Water to you all.

Venice

Alright, here's the much belated Venice recap.

I started out from the Rome Termini station at what I thought was a reasonable hour of the morning, but it turns out if you don't have a credit card than your gonna be waiting for hours to talk to a person.  Mostly because the station is so crowded.  I actually don't remember when I got on the train, but the whole trip took a few hours and the Italian scenery is lovely no biggy.  I had a B&B booked already but of course no map.  So the first thing I did when I arrived was find the information centre to find one and ask for directions.  The first thing that should have warned me was when the info person looked at the address and went "Huh?" and had to look it up.  The second was when she didn't explain what had made her confused.  Anyway, I got my map, got on the vaporetto, and headed for the Rialto bridge.

I love Venice.  I've been twice now.  The first when I was stumbling from lack of sleep and jet lag I just thought I'd been in Italy long enough to start to wake up and that was why I remembered it so well when I got home, but after this time I realised it wasn't that I was more awake.  It was Venice.  The feeling of entrancement started on the canals on the way to the Rialto.  It got stronger at the stop, where the gondoliers were hanging around and the first of many Venetian mask stands were, up over the lit up bridge where I finally came to the realisation that Carnival was in full swing, and I fell in love with the city all over again.

My mood took a a bit of a damper when I couldn't find my B&B.  I was on the right street according to the tourist info lady, but the numbers made veeeery confusing  jumps and it wasn't the same street name (or what I thought was a street name) as it was on the address I had.  I eventually went in to a drug store just as they were about to close and asked for help, and the fellow behind the counter said "Oh.  Well, it's very close, in the next intersection.  It's very hard to explain, but you're close."  So I headed back out.  Bearing in mind his mention of cross streets I went to the one that seemed to skip over about a hundred numbers, including the one I was looking for, and turned right.  Whereupon I discovered that the numbers didn't skip they just made detours.  Also what I though was a street name wasn't.  It was the name of the district.  I finally found the B&B, called the host who was very patient and friendly, and he came to let me in and give me a key.  It's the B&B Santa Sofia, by the way, and I would highly recommend it to any one looking for somewhere to stay in Venice that's centrally located.

Having dumped my bags and thawed out a bit I discovered I was quite hungry, and I'd noticed a pizza place on the corner so out I went.  Oh.  My.  God.  Best pizza EVER!!!!  I can't even remember the name of the place anymore, but I know exactly how to find it.  The crust was good,  the amount of sauce to toppings to cheese was perfect, and add to that the fact that every pizza I had in Italy had better quality, fresher, and more flavour full toppings then I've had anywhere else and I was hooked.

The next day I sallied forth after a lovely breakfast with freshly made coffee.  The tourist market near the Rialto was in full swing and there were tour groups aplenty wandering by.  I decided to dive right in, bought a two day vaporetto ticket, and headed to St. Mark's square and Ducal palace.  The vaporettos are definitely the way to go.  The views you get from them are beautiful.  I'd got a feel for a part of the cities personality the day before and I got a slightly different view of it that morning.

As soon as I got off the boat I started seeing the costumes.  They were incredible.  Single, pairs, sometimes full sets, they were all absolutely incredible.  There was usually a theme of some sort if there was more than one person.  One of my favourites was a couple dressed in absinthe green with fey designs and pictures.  The century that the costume was based in changed too.  Most were 18th century (pick your decade) but a few were earlier or later, though there were probably more 17th and 16th century than 19th.

I spent most of the day just wandering around.  Looking, feeling.  Taking pictures.  I took a vaporetto to the university district at one point and then ended up walking back to St. Marks square.  I found one of the many little cafe restaurants on a side street and had a very good spaghetti vongole for lunch, had an absolutely stupidly expensive latte at one of the cafes directly on the square, and then went in to the Basilica di San Marco for a bit.  Wow.  I mean Wow.  the walls, ceiling and floor are completely covered in mosaics.  Gorgeous, ostentatious, sparkling mosaics.  The floor is uneven everywhere and I'm not sure if it's from the shifting of time or people wearing it down.  And the feeling inside.  Despite the sheer numbers of tourists wandering through at all times it has a very contemplative feel to it.  And It was so cool to stand there and try and picture what it would look like during Mass at the height of the Renaissance!

I decided that I wanted Pizza for dinner so I headed back to my neighbourhood and wandered around San Polo a bit more before getting the last slices of pizza I was going to have in Italy (NNNNOOOOOOO!!!!!) for a while and going back to the B&B.

My flight was and early one, so I had to get around 6 am which I was less then pleased about, but it meant I got to see the city wake up.  The boats arriving loaded up with the morning deliveries for the various restaurants, cafes, and other stores, the people who start early going to work, the tourists catching buses, trains, or like me a flight.  The general feeling of muzzyness when nothings quite woken up completely.  I loved it.

I don't think I can adequately express or explain what I feel when I'm in Venice.  It captures the mind in a way no other city really has.  I knew when I left Rome that I'd probably be back.  After going to Venice I could say without a shadow of a doubt that I would be back again.  In both cities I found myself thinking poetically about both of them.  Venice as "The Queen of Water" and Rome as "The Sprawling, Ancient Lady" those being the short versions, and hardly the only ones I came up with.

Italy itself holds a special place in my mind and heart, but Venice, she holds the centre of that place.  I keep trying to come with ways to explain why I'm so entranced by Venice, why she inspires so much poetry in me.  Why I could spend hours just sitting, floating in the heady sea that is her personality.  The movement of the people, the smells, sights, sounds that are her soul.  And I can't.  Not properly.  I just know I'm going back.