15 Lekker Dutch Words and Phrases

Dutch is a hilarious language to learn. Especially for an English speaker. There are sounds involved heretofore unknown to this English speaker's ears. Consonants like the guttural "g" and dipthongs like "ui" which cause a person to contort her mouth into previously unknown positions. The dead giveaway that you are not a native Dutch speaker is not being able to flow through those sounds without knitting eyebrows together and crinkling the nose into a knot to try and get your lips around it all. Really, the hilarity of it all is knowing the facial antics I run through as I not only try to remember the words to speak, but also the pronunciation rules, is a side-show worthy of Marcel Marceau. Or to update the refererence just a bit: Step aside Mr. Bean! I am speaking Dutch!

Following is a list of some of my favorite words and phrases. Some I chose because they are particularly fun to say, and some are on this list because the 'similarity' to English words which mean something totally different is just too funny to pass up mentioning. Read on and you will see what I mean. I have done my best to give you a pronunciation guide and a definition for each. There shall be no holding me to the mistakes within this post, please. I am not a language teacher, and really only muddle through it myself. The language I mean, not my life. But, you really should try to wrap your trap around these words. After all, I have to.

Oh, where to begin?

1. Goedenmorgen (khoot-ahn-more-khen) Good morning.
Gotta give that guttural "g" a push at the beginning and the middle of this word.

2. Langzaam (Lahng-sahmm) Slowly.
A useful word to use in the phrase "Spreek je langzamer?" (spreak ya lahng-sahmm-er) Will you speak slower?

3. Uitstekend (OWT-steak-ent) Outstanding.
I love this word. It is simply outstanding fabulous.

4. Gereserveerd (Kheh-ress-er-feart) Reserved.
Not to be confused with the word Geserveerd (Kheh-sir-feart) which is Served.
I don't know why but my brain can't keep these two straight. I get confused when I read a menu and it says the entree will be served with a side of potatoes, and I always wonder why I have to reserve the potatoes?

5. Broodje (Brrroat-cha) Bread, or sandwich.
Roll that "r" in the first syllable. It's a lot of fun. And a lot of fun to eat.

6. Geen Geld Gegeven. (Khayn Khelt Khe-khay-vahn) No money given.
I don't know that you would ever hear this as an actual phrase in Dutch, but it's a dandy way to practice the "g" sound. In the early months of living here, this was a constant chant around our house.

7. Vliegtuig (Flea-kh-tukh) Airplane.
Again two "g" 's in a single word. Now that's just silly.

8. Patatkraam (pah-taht-krahm) Frites stand. French Fry place.
Yummy in my tummy.

9. Rond Vaart (rrroant fahrt) Round trip.
Once you get the pronunciation and translation of this one, you alter it slightly and get "round fart". And if you are a 13-year old boy, this cracks you up every time.

10. Aardappel (ahrrt-ahpell) Potato.
Literally: Earth apple. Other favorites on this theme Aardbei (ahrrt-buy) Strawberry or lit: Earth berry; and Aardworm (ahrrt-verm) You guess this one. Yup. Earthworm.
Incidentally, the word for "pretty" is Aardig (ahrrt-ikh) which given the root of the words here, as 'earth' or 'natural' gives that compliment lovely, fresh meaning. As in natural beauty.

11. Hoe heet je? (hoo hate ya) Who are you? or literally 'how are you called'?
This phrase can cause a little consternation on the playground because the benign 'what's your name' question sounds an awful lot like "who hates you?" to a native English speaker.

12. Achtentachtig (ahkht-en-tahkh-tikh) Eighty-eight. As in 88.
Another really great practice word to get your mouth around the 'ch' sound which is oh-so-similar to that lovely "g".

13. Wil je iets eten? (Vill ya eights ate-en) Would you like something to eat?
Seriously this is like my favorite phrase ever, and not just because of the content of the question. I love the way it rolls off the tongue. I look for ways to work it into conversation often. The other phrase working its way into my vocabulary in abundance lately, "Wil je koffie?" (Vill ya kohf-ee)
Yeah, I am pretty much a coffee junkie now. Would you like a cup?

14. Hoe gaat het met jou? (hoo khat het met yow) How is it going or How are you.
Really. That's my question. How are you doing with your Dutch lesson?

15. Gefeliciteerd (kheh-fell-iss-ah-teart) Congratulated or Congratulations.
As in Gefeliciteerd met je verjaardag! (kheh-fell-iss-ah-teart met ya fur-yahr-dahkh) which is to say 'Happy Birthday'. But far more fitting would be U beëindigde uw Nederlandse les. Gefeliciteerd! (oo buh-ayn-dikh-tahn oo nay-der-lahns less) You just finished your Dutch lesson. Congratulations!

Fijne Weekend Allemaal!
Tot straks.

Friday Fifteen

Games People Play

So there is this gaggle of games in the blogging world and just like the best of childhood play it involves tagging friends. And she who is "it" gets to holler out "no-tag-backs"! I got touched twice this week by two different taggers for two different games.

I am going to play them both in one post.

And I am boldly going to let the buck stop here. And it's not that I am not a big fan of these games, or memes rather, because I really am. I love to trip upon them on others' blogs and read all the cool and juicy tidbits of information the writer chooses to share. The reason I am not thrusting the game upon others is simple. I am only just making friends in this big beautiful blogging world and I don't want to annoy or pester any of these fresh relationships with a meme which someone may or may not want, but would be too nice to complain about. Besides, both of these games call for an unreasonable amount of tags to happen, as in 10 and 8 respectively. And that adds up to: A LOT. To be perfectly honest, I just don't want to have to think that hard about which somebodies to pass it on to.

Lazy? Perhaps. But you didn't hear that from me.

Now, having put all that in print I feel compelled to add this. If you are interested or keen to play one or both of these games then by all means consider yourself tagged. And please tell me when you have posted so I can come by and read the cool, amazing and interesting things about you. Reading that kind of stuff seriously floats my boat. If you would rather post interesting things about yourself in the comments section of this blog, then feel free to do that. Only if it's 10 things, please do it in ten comments instead of one, so it will make my comment numbers soar. That kind of stuff really, really gets the boat rockin' for me.

So, sound the whistle. Start the clock. The tournament now commences.

Thanks for the tag to this game, Brillig. And thanks for the nod on your sidebar too.

And Anno? I twisted your tag just a little and instead of 8 random facts about me, I turned it into, well, you can read onward to find out what I did. I just wanted to shake it up a little bit so this post wouldn't be too awfully boring and long winded.

Oh, right, like I could ever be long winded!

First then: 10 ULTIMATELY INTERESTING FACTS ABOUT ME

1. When I was seventeen years old I did a McDonald's commercial. Really. I was 'discovered' straight out of drama class at Skyline High School in Salt Lake City. I think the talent agents were looking for fresh Utah faces for this campaign and they liked mine. Or rather, what they really liked was my voice. My face they said, after a series of auditions and screen tests, was "too young looking". So they didn't cast me for the screen part, but it was my voice you heard-dubbed in-all over the western United States for the "Your order in less than a minute" ad campaign of 1983. I also did the radio spots. And the follow up tags when they re-ran the campaign later on in another part of the U.S.
That whole face-too-young-looking thing was a total annoyance at seventeen. Having the same problem at forty-one? Not nearly so bothersome.

2. My first major-venue performance was at The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington D.C. when I was eight years old.

3. I have danced in International venues since then including Sweden and Canada. As well as throughout the United States, with loads of concerts within Utah, which strictly speaking is a foreign place in its own right.

4. I took my 25+ year dancing/performing career and became a P.E. Teacher at Awakening Seed School in Phoenix. I taught there for six years. It was an awesome gig.

5. I can reach my nose with my tongue. Yeah, I have skills. My daughter can also do this which is my only claim that I had anything to do with her looks-just-like-her-daddy genetics.

6. I gave birth three times without so much as a Tylenol. Maybe that's not so impressive until you factor in that labor with my youngest was a 20-hour affair.

No, no applause please. Just throw money.

7. I love to eat green salad and a baked potato. Together. Not just cohabiting on the same plate, but together. Meaning, I prepare the potato by splitting its jacket in the center and tossing in the butter, sour cream, salt, pepper, and other what-not. Then I build a salad on top and crown the whole thing with ranch dressing. The dual effect of hot/cold, soft/crunchy is in a word: Fabulous.

8. I am a voracious reader. I love a book. Almost any book. I have been known to finish total drivel, just because I don't want to be without one. I tend to disappear completely into its world once I have cracked the cover. In Elementary School I often was 'caught' reading my novels behind the history or social studies texts. Since motherhood descended I have to be a bit more discriminate in my timing before I pick up a book and withdraw into the prose. After all, the children need to eat sometimes...

9. I have to be the lamest, slowest, worst SMSer on the planet. Seriously. Every time I try to text it takes me FOREVER to find the letters. It is a ridiculously arduous process for me and my friends on the other end have already finished croissants and cappuccino before I can respond to the invitation "Koffie?" with a simple "Ok".

Here's the perfect example: Today I was attempting to send a quick message to my friend to let her know that Andrew and I were a little late getting to the bus stop and therefore I would be a few minutes behind our scheduled meeting time. (She and I had a spa date while our boys were at peuterspeelzaal). I diligently pushed the buttons on my mobile phone and got myself all wound up and hyperventilating over the fact that I was able to punch in "Bus late" in under five minutes. So then instead of adding "Be there soon" as was my original intention, I typed the same sentence (two words is a sentence, right?) again. So now my message read "Bus late bus late" . Sheesh. I deleted my mighty effort and got the words "but coming" typed in sometime before our thirty-minute bus ride was complete. I sent the message on it's way and I kid you not within seconds, my friend had texted back some novel length reply. I didn't dare send anything in return. I figured by the time I found the letters spelling "C U soon" I would have already seen her, had my toenails painted and arrived back home.

10. I sing in the shower. I have a fantastic repertoire of show tunes and 1940's torch songs. I can also belt out The Star Spangled Banner like nobody's business.

Oh, yeah, I am a diva. A wet, soggy, shower-singin' diva.

And now: 8 RANDOM THINGS I HAVE ACTUALLY SAID TODAY

1. "Are you serious? You threw your yogurt behind the heater? Why? Why? Why?"

2. "I'm not listening to you.... you're crazy" (said in my best Nacho Libre accent.)

3. "Hey dude. The stinky shoes in the front hallway? Can they go away soon, please?"

4. "HOLY CHOCOLATE CAKE BATMAN! This is soooooo good."

5. "Plug the earphones into the television please. No one out here needs to be subjected to The Nanny's voice"

6. "Nee! Nee! Nee! Dit is niet voor jouw!"

7. "Wow, so these wet socks on the radiator? Are these going to be a permanent part of the house decoration or what?"

8. "Uh.... dude? The shoes? Now, please."


And that as they say, my friends, is that. You really read all the way to the end? Now, that's impressive.


UPDATE at 5:03 Kiki played. Who's next?

The Most Important Meal of the Day

Wordless Wednesday

Assimilation

I have never really cared for coffee.

My reasons didn't really have anything to do with the fact that I was raised within a religious culture where coffee is taboo. As a matter of fact, as a general rule in my life, if I am told something is off limits, that just makes me desire it all the more. But that has never been the case with coffee. Knowing it was on the "no-no" list didn't draw me to it at all.

I actually have fond olfactory memories of a brewing pot in my grandmother's house when I was a little girl. The fragrant aroma filled her historical Southern Utah house with its strong, beckoning scent. And still, that never enticed me.
Truly, I think it came down to a sensory thing for me. Perhaps it was the too strong scent. The coffee aisle with its fresh beans and grinder at the supermarket kind of repulsed me. I never ever thought coffee flavored candies or ice cream or treats were anything but yuck. And I certainly never drank the stuff.

Until now.

Holland has won me over.

I drink coffee.

Truly, this is not a surprise when you consider just how much of the black liquid is consumed in this country. It is said that the Dutch run on coffee. I remember reading in an adapting-to-life-in-Holland expat book the account of some tourists to The Netherlands who returned to the States after an extended visit here and reported that they had learned to say "hello" in Dutch during their travels. Clearly, they said, the word for a warm greeting in any Dutch home or gathering is "Koffie?"
You can't miss the substance. Coffee is served at every cafe and snack stand of course, but also at the grocery stores, the doctors office waiting room and well, just everywhere.

It is brewed strong, dark and powerful. And served piping hot.

I began my exploration into the world of coffee with the mostly milk cappuccino. A friend served me a cup at her Scheveningen home. I was surprised that the smell and the taste of the coffee hidden inside didn't overwhelm or repulse me. Tenderly I sipped at the contents of my cup, allowing the hot liquid to coat my insides with its cozy warming charm.

That was the beginning of the transformation; me as a coffee drinker.

I have a Dutch friend here, who is going to chuckle as he reads this post. I have known him for 15 years or more and the whole of that time I have been an outspoken opponent of coffee. Not for others, just for me.
He has always complimented me on the coffee I brew (which is really saying something coming from a Dutchman) and has scratched his head over the fact that I could make such a delicious pot without knowing how or even liking it.

I suppose it's just one of those brilliant hidden talents. Coffee Brewing Aficionado; that's me. I wonder if it would be worthwhile skill to list it on my resume?

Ah, me. Digressing as always.

So, back to coffee and me. We have a new budding relationship. I have recently been spotted ordering a cup of my own at a cafe or two, and have been witnessed to respond to the greeting "Koffie?" with a hearty "Lekker!".
This morning as my husband descended the stairs to leave for work, he stopped cold at the kitchen doorway when he saw the coffee maker pulled from it's usual spot on the storage shelf where it awaits the guests to our home, bubbling away with the luscious liquid.

First he laughed out loud at this bold manifestation that my integration is complete. And then he joined me in a cup.

Beautiful, black, hot. Coffee.

Perhaps We'll Die

"Ack-OH-Aaaargh! okay! NEW RULE IN THE HOUSE!"

"What's that then?"

"No more leaving the juice sitting out for any extended period of time in the warm summer temperatures."

"Oh, okay. Did it turn or something?"

"No, there was a fly in it."

"Ah, so you had a fly in your glass?"

"No! I had a fly in my mouth!"

"You had a fly in your mouth?"

"Yes! A fly in my mouth. Ack!"

"Oh, sick."

"That's what I'm saying."




****




"How are you doing since the fly-in-your-mouth incident?"

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I can't get the taste of soggy fly out of my mouth. I guess I won't be on Fear Factor anytime soon."

"No? You not up for eating bugs then?"

"Nope."

"You know this whole thing today kinda reminds me of the time I ate soap."

"You ate soap?"

"Yes! You don't remember?"

"No. You really ate soap?"

"It's not like I meant to. It was when we were newly married, living in Vegas, and I was really sick one night and went to the cupboard to look for medicine."

"Uh-huh..."

"I found a bottle I had "borrowed" from your Mom's house. It was a cold medicine bottle with an orangey liquid inside. I thought it was Triaminic. It looked like Triaminic."

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't Triaminic."

"It was soap?"

"Yes! It was soap! I guess your Mom must have used that bottle to send some shampoo with one of your sisters to girls' camp or something. I thought it was medicine."

"Wait, so you took soap?"

"Yes! I am telling you, I took soap. By the way that's EXACTLY what you said to me that night when I woke you with my hysterics because I had just swallowed soap."

"I don't remember this."

"I do. It's one of my more embarrassing moments. I swallowed soap. On purpose. Kind of. I was delirious with the sniffles. I was in a panic after guzzling soap and wondered if I might get sick. You weren't especially sympathetic. You told me I could call Poison Control."

"Did you?"

"Yes! And I explained the whole thing to the operator and asked him if I was going to die now. He was very professional and didn't snicker too loudly. Not anywhere near as loudly as you are laughing right now."

"I can't help it. You swallowed soap!"

"Yeah, well you swallowed a fly!"

"No, I didn't swallow a fly. I just swished it around in my mouth and then spit it out."

"Oh, lovely."

"I am glad you didn't die when you swallowed soap."

"Yeah? And I am glad you didn't really swallow a fly."

I know an old lady who swallowed a fly.

I don't know why she swallowed a fly,

perhaps she'll die....

Like Mama Dances

CHILDHOOD

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15 Things We Would Love to Get in a Care Package From the U.S.

(Not that we are *hinting* or anything.... Are you reading this Mom?)

1. Peanut Butter.
creamy. any brand. gallon bucket size.

2. Cold Medicines.
Advil Cold & Sinus. Zicam. Airborne.
the stockpiles are low. the sniffles are bound to return.

3. Cake Mix and a Can of Frosting.
you wouldn't believe the price I have to pay for something like this in the expat shop.

4. Ranch Dressing Mix.
though we found some cardini's dressings at our local albert heijn the other day. total thrill.

5. Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.

6. Starburst.

7. Skittles.
can you identify which if any items on this list may have been suggested by the children?

8. Goldfish Crackers.
now, why in the land of cheese they don't market these happy little cheese crackers is beyond me. we've tried the cheese crackers on offer here and Andrew scoffs at the lot of them. no, it must be goldfish. simply goldfish.

9. Chocolate Chips.
another just can't be found item. not good ones anyway.

10. Books!
paperbacks in English which I don't have to pay a premium for. or have to purchase in british pounds!

11. Cereal.
mmmm.... cheerios, cinnamon toast crunch, trix, lucky charms, apple jacks. this post at scribbit's made me salivate in whole puddles.

12. Seeds.
cilantro. green onion. sunflower. I want to make salsa, Emma wants to harvest a snack.

13. Refried Beans. Enchilada sauce. Jalapenos with a kick.
oh, mexican food, I miss you so.

14. File Folders. Index Cards
the Dutch must not file things, because this is an impossible item to locate. we found some index cards finally the other day in the BASEMENT of the book store.

15. An extended visit from family or friends, or hey, even someone we don't know all that well.
we're not picky.

Friday Fifteen

Graceful Neighbor

Wordless Wednesday

Koninginnedag

Do not be intimidated by the title of this post. It's Queen's Day!

The Dutch language loves its compound words. I always say, why put a space between words if you can get by without any? Like the word koffiepadapparat which if you break down and translate is Coffee Maker which uses the pre-packaged, pre-measured coffee pads. See? It's just much more convenient to say it in Dutch. The word you are looking at up top is one of my favorite Dutch words. The way it rolls off the tongue, after some practice, is just delightful. You see before you the word for 'Queen'-- Koningin; and the word for 'Day'-- Dag. Squish them together and you have Koninginnedag!

Don't be shy now. Say it with me.

KONE-ing IN nuh dakh-- Give that last consonant a great guttural push. Like clearing your throat of an abundance of phlegm. Yes, just like that. Now say it again.

Kone-ing in nuh dakh.

Koninginnedag!

You did it. Now you are pretty much Dutch.

For the scoop on what it's all about you can refer to this Wikepedia page or to this blog post from new reader Marloes. But for the fun of what it looks like, tune in below.

Queen's Day Sights

from The Hague, 2007 shot with my Canon EOS 400D

and

from Leiden, 2006 shot with the old Fuji Finepix A340

Nederlanders turn out in the National color:

Indeed, Orange is the color of the day:

Streets are filled with entertainers:

Flags fly proudly and abundantly:

There is food and fun for everyone:

Bargain hunters are sure to discover something amazing:

Brilliant young entrepreneurs are certain to make the big bucks:

His sign reads: "For 10 cents I will wiggle my ears"

Now, that's a Queen's Day party!

Quiet Reflection

It's Not Every Day You Get to See The Queen!

Her Majesty Queen Beatrix, reigning Monarch of The Netherlands,

photographed at the International School of The Hague, Saturday 21 April 2007.

Official Opening Celebration for the school's brand new campus.

RARE

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15 Reasons I Don't Like Living in The Netherlands

I have to be honest from the start here. I cheated for this post. On my own I couldn't come up with 15 reasons I don't like living here. I had to go borrow from elsewhere to find some common expat complaints.

To be fair, I do have some gripes and I can join in moaning with the best of them, but my list is certainly not a long one; and there are no deal breakers on this inventory of grumbles. In fact, many of these things don't really pass muster as genuine grievances about life here, but are more like annoyances. I can make the same type of list about living in my home country of the U.S. too.

But I wanted to share some fair and balanced reporting about an expat life.
Perhaps you can regard this as Part II to the 15 Reasons I Like Living in The Netherlands post from the past.

Okay, it wasn't long past. Really only a couple of weeks ago, so you probably remember and don't need to go linking to it to remind yourself. But while we are on that subject, you could read this post which also points to my deep-seated happiness here. And while you are at it, why don't you read this post, and this one, and maybe this one too. Not that they have anything at all to do with the subject, but they are posts without any comments, and darn it they are feeling a little ignored. Share some love readers! Share some love.

And now we commence with the whining. (or as my British friends say: the Wingeing)

1. I get homesick. Not for things or comforts or any of the silly luxuries I used to think were crucial to life itself; but for people. The short of it is: I miss my sister. Fiercely. All the time.

2. The Dutch can be unkind, even rude. They explain away this tendency by saying that they are a "direct" people and "up front". But when that direct-up-frontness is coming straight at you with a "Your ass looks big in those pants", it can take a minute to catch your breath.

3. While I am whining about the people themselves I will add this. There seems to be an actual gene in the Nederlanders pool which dictates scolding. Direct, up-front, ruthless scolding. Of complete strangers.
Take for instance the time I got blasted at the supermarket for opening the door at the freezer section and (apparently) taking too long to look at the ingredients on the package. A woman moved across the aisle to let me know that what I was doing was 'ridiculously irresponsible and didn't I know that if I opened the door like that it would cause it to fog up and then no one would be able to see what was inside on the shelves?'
Uh... yeah. Didn't she know that I had to open the door in the first place because some other numb nut had done just that and I couldn't see what was inside? And doesn't she get that that's why there ARE doors, so you can OPEN them and look at what is poised behind? Sheesh. As you can see I am still a little tender about this one. I have other stories I can share to illustrate this point. Lots of others. ' Cause they do it, the scolding thing, a lot.

4. Hours of operation at the shops are limited. The specialty shops (cheese, butcher, pharmacy, clothing etc.) and the smaller grocery stores open around 10:00 a.m. and close at 5:00-ish p.m. every day. They are closed on a Sunday and also on a Monday morning. When we first arrived in Leiden this was a steep learning curve for me and I ran out of milk more than once on the weekend. Oops. That's one thing that I have just simply learned to adapt to and plan ahead for.

5. It also must be mentioned that you bag your own groceries at the supermarket. If you forget to bring your own bags, you can purchase one at the store for around 20 euro cents. When you are especially forgetful, soon enough you will have a full collection of grocery bags sitting in the kitchen closet. You can then just continue to add to the stack every time you return from the store with another, and another, and yet another 20-cent bag.

6. There is some intense pressure in the grocery line when you are hurriedly trying to pack your items into your newly purchased (crap! did I forget the bags again?) bag, and already the cashier is sending the next customers' items down the conveyor belt. It should be an Olympic sport really: speed bagging your own groceries. Dude! I would be a gold medalist!

7. Ah, and speaking of lines. The Dutch can't queue.

8. They are also extremely handicapped in the area of customer service.

9. Banking here has its problems. There are some silly protocols and procedures in place that seriously just don't make any sense. Like when you want to pay off the balance of your credit card earlier than the auto-scheduled payment date. You know, so you can use the card to pay the deposit on a car rental when you want to take a trip to say, Belgium. Using the online banking option to move monies from your savings account toward the credit card account seems like a time efficient plan. Right up until you find out that it will take NINE DAYS for the transaction to show up on bank records and bring your balance down to zero. And if in that NINE DAYS since making the transfer payment, your scheduled date for automatic payment should arrive? Well then, the bank will just debit your account again for the full balance showing on the last statement. Huh?

10. Speaking of dates, you must schedule an appointment weeks in advance for a dinner meeting, or a coffee with friends or neighbors. Dropping by or popping round for a visit is a bit of a foreign concept. Figure that out and you're in good social shape in The Netherlands.

11. Getting attention for health issues can be a long, convoluted process. Everyone here has a "house doctor" with whom you schedule visits for any of the common health concerns. If your situation requires additional expertise you are given a referral to a specialist. Getting in to see said specialist is where the long wait begins. Months can go by before appointments are issued and months in between appointments seems to be the norm. The upshot to this complaint though is that the costs involved with medical care are extremely reasonable, almost laughable, when comparing to what we paid for care and prescriptions in the states.

12. You have to pay for the silliest of things. Like a ketchup packet at McDonald's? 35 euro cents. Frugality is a national sport.

13. Bikes are a necessary form of transportation and oh-so-handy to have around, but they are pricey. There is a bit of sticker shock when you price bicycles. Average cost for a new bike is around 400 euros. It is not at all uncommon to see prices reaching to 1,000 euros. For a bike. That you have to pedal. We bought ours at a used bicycle shop and found suitable purchases in the 100 euro range. That will do for the likes of me. I kind of like that mine is a little rusty and has been hand painted to cover the signs of age. It's a good, sturdy, reliable bike. And the fact that it's old and used gives me a feeling of security that it's not likely to be stolen.

14. Housing costs are high. I have mentioned previously that land and space are limited here in Holland, so it follows that real estate is precious. And expensive. That goes for the purchase prices of a home as well as rental fees.

15. This one is as common a complaint with the Dutch as it is with any expatriate. All approach it with the same venom and vigor; you can consider it an international-equal-opportunity bellyache. Are you ready for it? I will lay it out for you. Winter sucks in The Netherlands. There is nothing at all redeemable about it; the winter months are cold and dark, dismal and depressing. The wind blows constantly. The rain pours continuously, except for the days that the temperatures drop below freezing. Then it's just windy and icy cold. The kind of cold that freezes the tears before they can sweep across your eye; and considering that the winters here are considered mild, that's actually saying something about just how cold mild can be. But it's the gray skies that take it out of you. A great yearning for a clear sky and some sunlight builds inside during the long months of winter. So much so, that as I have shared more than once-or even twice-on this blog, the return of the spring is nothing short of miraculous and everyone turns out to worship the sun and claim victory over another winter.

So, there you have it. And at the end of all of this, I am wondering if it's possible to beat the amount of shameless-self-promotion and linking to ones' own writing I achieved here today?

Let the games begin.

Friday Fifteen

So You Think I Can Think?

Now that the deep inner workings of my rather warped brain have been exposed, this next thing I say may shock you deeply.

It shocked me.

My good and faithful friend Soccer Mom in Denial has awarded me the Thinking Blogger Award.

The gesture is touching and meaningful. Especially because I know the likes of the company she keeps, or rather reads. I am truly humbled that I warrant that kind of attention, and that she counts me among her friends. She is seriously just too cool.

The way this game goes is like this: Now that I have received one, it is my privilege to pay it forward and hand out the thinking award to other bloggers.

I get to pick 5.

How am I supposed to choose?

Since diving head first without looking into joining the blogging world I have been reading and enjoying many, many- possibly far too many- bloggers' sites. To name my favorites is like asking me to announce my favorite cookie.

It just can't be done.

But I am doing it anyway. In spite of the fact that I am leaving out several writers whom I lurk by read regularly.

These are they to whom I bestow the Thinking Blogger award. And these are the reasons why.

Time With Shelby. Shelby is a witty, wise and carefully worded writer. Also, the fact that she gave me a nod on her sidebar was extremely cool. Her piece this week on wanderlust is fabulous. Oh, and the photo at her masthead is exceptional. Reading her site gets me THINKING about all the good things about life, and youth, and music, and traveling, and everything.

Milk & Honey. I tripped onto this site and found this post a few weeks ago. The discussion which ensued through her site and with the others playing along was a total blast. It is a memories piece, and you may have discovered by now that memory is one of my favorite destinations.
The jolt to THINK about my grandparents was just a beautiful trip.

Desert Songbird came to my site early on and left some tender words in the comment section. I was touched and moved and thus got my fingers over to her URL as fast as they could fly. Her photographs are so much fun and her stories even more so. I enjoy her open, animated style. On top of that she lives in the Arizona desert, and reading her blog and looking at her photos makes me THINK of home. I am grateful for that daily trip.

Beaman and I swap comments occasionally on a Wordless Wednesday. That's how I found him. I actually spend a lot of time at his cyber-place because like a magnet his writing draws me in. He is a poet. And his photography rocks. When I am there I am always THINKING: 'gosh, I wish I could write like this'.

Gawilli is another one of those "just happened by" finds, but her humor and her candor keep me coming back for more. That we happen to agree on a certain politically charged issue is a bonus. Her recent piece about Service and Sacrifice was moving, especially her final observation in the post. Yeah, her writing makes me THINK.


There then is my list. I am sorry I couldn't mention EVERYONE. But you may not have stayed around to read ALL that blather.

Thanks for sticking to this point.

Award winners, I wish you Hartelijk Gefeliciteerd!
It's now your turn to play.

Something to Celebrate

Our soldier safely returns.

Our new niece is safely delivered.

Wordless Wednesday

Sharing Secrets

I write all the time. In my head.

All. The. Time.

Constantly on the inside screen behind the ridge of my forehead, words and sentences play by. I write continually, inspired by the things I see or the memories triggered by what I smell. Even when I am inspired by nothing, I am composing. My brain literally bubbles with ideas; ideas which pop and play and line themselves up into coherent thought; it is poetry and prose like you would never believe. It is profound, precise, perfect writing replete with moving imagery and powerful metaphor. Thoughts melding into striking sentences, with grammar, punctuation and spell checks complete.

The trouble comes when I ask those perfect phrases to make the journey from my brain- through my neck-across my shoulder-down my arm-and-out my fingertips. I think sometimes the thoughts dawdle along the way, like a toddler on his way to bed distracted by that last chance to play, and somewhere between formation and fruition something, maybe everything, gets lost. Instead of idyllic words fraught with wisdom what comes through my hands by way of pen or keyboard is merely a shadow of the original thought.

A small, dark, skulking shadow.

I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to retrace the path, hoping to find the birthplace of my perfect, precise, exquisitely formed inspiration so I can get it on paper, as it were.

My gaze casts to the distance, my brow knits in concentration and my lower lip gets tucked into my teeth. I search and reach and long to remember just what it is that I am trying to say.

My kids are learning that to interrupt me from this comatose stance is to risk a flash of the eye, much like the pupil of a frightened bird; and a heavy sigh just like a... well, like the tired mother that I am.

"Oh, I see you're writing. I'll come back" I hear them say.

Right now it is these words always in concert inside my mind. The dancers who usually occupy that space have had to make some room. Although I am on a virtual hiatus from teaching right now, it is apparent that my brain didn't get the memo, because the dancers who have been in my head since before I can remember are still there. I hear music and in my head, the stage lights are burning, the curtains rise and my dancers make an entrance. Leaping, spinning, stretching, these graceful dancers play out the steps choreographed in my heart and magnificently performed in my head.

This is how it has always been for me. Music makes my head dance.

I have been teaching dance, excluding mini-breaks like this one, for the past 25 years. I love the work. It is the most honest part of who I am; to be in a studio classroom with children moving and creating together is simple paradise for me. When I work with students preparing for performance, this is generally how it goes. The music is selected and I listen. And I watch. The dancers in my head take off into such stunning movement that often I am breathless. I take notes. I listen to the music again. And I watch. And in my head there is dancing.

I know when I stand in front of my class, frozen to the spot with my brow furrowed and my lip tucked in, it is an odd sight. But even with notes in hand, sometimes I just have to watch the dancers in my head run through the combination or the formation one more time, so I can translate it onto the bodies standing in front of me.

Standing still, eyes cast to the distance, eyebrows crowding eyelids and begging to share space, teeth marks in my lower lip, I have often heard:

"Shhh! Quiet. Miss Jenn is thinking"

Because my students are in on the secret.

I see things in my head.

If I could, I would publish directly from the gray matter and skip the variations and mutations of the perfect paragraph as it resides there. And then, the dancers in my head could don their costumes, move onto the stage, and interpret the words; dancing with passion and grace in a spectacular improvisational performance. It well could be an artistic wonder.

If only I had the necessary plug-in.

Generation Gap

"Hey Mom. Do you know who Nelly Furtado is? "

"Uh-huh. Of course."

"Do you like her music?"

"Yeah. As a matter of fact I do."

"Me too. Maria went to her concert in Amsterdam. She said it was really good.... Have you ever been to someone's concert before?"

"Yes. I have. Lots of 'em."

"Wow! Really? Who have you seen in concert? I mean is it anybody I would know? Is it anybody, you know.... good?"

Another Step Toward Independence

STEPS

find more players

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15 Certain Signs of Sun

Friday Fifteen

Join in and play!

All photos taken with my Canon EOS 400D.

Shots of my neighborhood, my house, the local beach etc.

Here Comes the Sun!

Something to Say

I am going to confess something here. I like to talk. I know this comes as something of a shock to you as there is no evidence to support that statement. I mean, it's not like there are already close to 80 posts on this 50-day old blog. No, wait. There ARE nearly 80 posts here. I must have been thinking of somebody else.

But since we are on the subject of me, let's just linger awhile.

My new mentor and greatest cyber supporter Soccer Mom in Denial has recently been interviewing friends and fellow bloggers. I have so enjoyed reading the answers to her questions and actually have been tickled by the questions themselves. So much so, that I just couldn't stand it anymore and I asked if I could join in and play. I like to be included in what all the cool kids are doing. She happily complied and sent me the following questions.

Here is what I have to say.


1. If you could go anywhere with your family (and money and time were not a factor) where would you go?

At the very moment I am typing this I am listening to my youngest son squeak and grunt as he cavorts around the living room attempting to elude the ride to bed in his daddy's arms. My oldest son is gyrating through an impromptu Napoleon Dynamite dance on the rug in front of me; and my daughter is asking if she can have 30 Euro for a lunch card at school. So in answer to the query, if I could go anywhere right now, (and the return time were not a factor) it would be WITHOUT my family. To anywhere.
Seriously, my answer is anywhere. And everywhere. I have an incredible wanderlust and I absolutely love to go. Go and see. And there are myriad places to go and see in this big, wonderful world.
Where shall we meet?

2. What is your typical Friday like?

It seems so trite to respond this way, but my Fridays are complete TGIF days. Friday is the one day of the week that I don't have a destination first thing in the morning. No school for Andrew, no dancing class, no coffee groups, no Mom/Tot meetings. It's a day made just for me and my special guy and our pajamas.
There is NO SCHEDULE on a Friday and after the morning wake up ritual of munching breakfast in front of the BBC, we make it up as we go along. The big kids are out the door by 8:00 to cycle to school and Don leaves shortly after that for work. Andrew and I indulge in watching The Tweenies and checking email (you can make your best guess about who does which) and just take the day as it comes.
Friday nights are reliably date night with my husband. I never turn that down. He's a great guy to hang out with.

3. Why Arizona before the Netherlands?

Why Arizona? Because I was born to be barefoot of course.

Why Arizona before The Netherlands is a longer story. Our convoluted path since we married began in Southern Utah, and then a stop in Las Vegas, Nevada. Both were education related moves. Most of our moves have been education related, as a matter of fact. With undergraduate school tucked away we were faced with some choices for Don's law school education. Initially we were set to return to Utah for that three-year course of study but then a letter arrived from the University of Arizona, with an offer we couldn't refuse. We moved to Tucson with our Honda Civic and a 10' trailer which held EVERYTHING WE OWNED and became desert rats for essentially the next twelve years. Eight of those years we spent in Phoenix.

4. Do your kids have the same life-is-an-adventure attitude as you?

Uh... yes. Maybe. And no.

My daughter is one of the most adaptable people I know. She seems to take anything and everything in stride when it comes to moves and changes and adventures. I have joked that we could move to Mars in the morning and by evening she would have found alien playmates and would have already scheduled her first sleep over.
My youngest of course doesn't seem to mind whatever it is we are doing or wherever it is we are. As long as he can "do it myself-okay?" and count on his peanut butter, then it's all good for him.
My oldest is my most routine oriented child. He just likes things the way he likes them, and though he has adapted beautifully to this experience and has grown immensely, I believe his preference would be to settle and stay somewhere. I picture him years from now, living a stable life IN ONE PLACE while he rolls his eyes to the top of his head as his parents pull up to his driveway in a ramblin' RV. We are a little on the flitty side and he is deeply rooted.

5. What were you in high school (e.g. jock, dramaclub, studious)?

I was a drama clubbing, madrigal singing, poetry writing social butterfly. And by the butterfly part I mean that I was (and still am) able to find a comfort spot with all kinds of people. Like a chameleon I can blend in with my environment. The bottom line is I really like people and I believe we all have more in common than what we sometimes perceive. It's all about spending time with each other and finding out just what that may be.

6. What did you expect when you started blogging?

I expected that I would find it to be cathartic and a worthwhile creative exercise. I hoped it would help me hone my writing skills. I also hoped it would help me process and record some of the experiences here. Both of those hopes are being satisfied as I blog. What I didn't realize was that it would bring me such deep satisfaction to write and share all of this every day. In addition I have been most surprised by the sweet support out there from readers and other bloggers. I didn't expect at all to find a group of terrific and loyal friends because of it. But I did. And that is a perfect sweep of icing on my blogging cake.