Marcel! Marcel!

I accidentally went to a birthday party this evening.

Last night I ate something that did not work in my tummy at all.  I was awake until 5 this morning trying to deal with the disagreeable foods so I skipped breakfast and lunch, took naps, and read a bit.  By 8:00 tonight I was finally hungry again and felt well enough to go look for some food.  I decided it was a good night to go to my favorite restaurant.  It has food I understand and it’s close to the hotel.

When I got there, I could see that there were exciting things going on.  Parts of the restaurant were closed off, there was a little stage set up, food and drinks were available in the bar, and lots of people were being organized in the closed area. 

Marcel is a first year university student who works part time in the restaurant as a dishwasher.  Today he turned 18 so his Dad organized a party in his honor.  He is very cute and very shy and obviously well loved by his family and friends.  There were some 50 people there to wish him well and they pulled me in to sing and dance to an amazing birthday song full of “hurrah”s and “Marcel”s and shouts and laughs.   It was great fun and I enjoyed the man who used the stage for a birthday show and encouraged everyone to sing along with him as he did a little song about the birthday boy.  I unfortunately didn’t understand enough to get the jokes but still enjoyed singing the syllables I could mimic and shouting Marcel! at the appropriate moments. 

A little singing and dancing, a little food and a little wine and then back to the hotel for a little nap.  Life is good.

Dad and Mom

One thing I’ve noticed in these travels is that the Dutch don’t smile as much as people in the US.  It’s not that they are angry or sad or dour; they just save their smile for an appropriate occasion, unlike the Americans who smile just because we have walked into a room or have made eye contact with a stranger.  The people of Leeuwarden do have a sense of humor as witness this particular joke, which is masterful, if a bit esoteric.

This portrait from the studio of Michiel Jansz Van Miereveld (1567-1641) shows Willem Ludwijk, Count of Nassau-Dillenburg (1560-1620). 

This statue of Willem Ludwijk van Nassau in Leeuwarden is known as “Us Heit” or “Our Father”.  He was known by this nickname throughout the Netherlands after becoming one of the most prominent Dutch heroes during the Revolt of the Netherlands against Spain. He served in the cavalry under William of Orange, and was largely responsible for developing the successful military strategy that led to the defeat of the Spanish Habsburgs. 

The Frisian Cattle Syndicate commissioned this statue of the perfect Frisian cow, an animal renowned throughout Europe for milk with a high fat content and perfect taste.    Leeuwarden has historically been the center of the Frisian cattle industry and the statue has been given a place of honor not far from the statue of Willem van Nassau.  Over the years, the little joke developed and the people of Leeuwarden now call the cow statue “Us Mem” or “Our Mother”.  

Caught in the Rain

For two days, it has rained and stormed and rained.  Lightning, thunder, dark clouds, wind.  So I was stuck in my room for most of the time for two days straight. 

When I saw sunshine yesterday, I was more than happy to grab the map I had drawn for a 4-mile walk through Leeuwarden to find some of the more out-of-the way spots I wanted to explore.  Everything was going well until two things happened about the same time.  The rain returned and I realized that I had made a wrong turn and had gone a mile or more in the absolutely wrong direction.  There was nothing to do but trudge back the way I had come and then correct the wrong turn I had made and struggle on home to my hotel.  This was now a six mile hike and the rain was landing on my nose.  I had my trusty new Ralph Lauren hoodie which for some reason does repel rain a bit so I wasn't totally uncomfortable.  But six miles is really too far for my poor old body so I'm exploring by internet today.  Which is fine because it is again a stormy day.

It isn't hard to get lost in Leeuwarden.  The main part of the city is built in a circle and there are rings throughout the city to route traffic into the several streets leading to the ring.  The streets are not always marked with a sign and it's possible to go several blocks before realizing you are not on the street you thought you were on.  Using a particular street is also dependent upon there being a bridge across the many canals and several bridges are under construction right now with detours to the next bridge necessary.  The street names are challenging and also change frequently for no good reason so the directions from Mapquest can look something like this:

Turn left on Zuiderplein
Zuiderplein becomes Zuidergrachswal
Turn Left
Turn slight Right onto Nieuweweg
Take a slight right onto Keizergracht
Turn left onto Oosterkade
Oosterkade becomes Niewekade
Niewekad becomes Amlandshof
Turn right onto Bonifatiusplein

I completed that walk and the only street sign along the way was the one for Nieuweweg.

On the other hand, there are wonderful street signs available such as this one:

And there are lots of maps posted in big plastic cases that look like the ones in the mall that say You Are Here.

The picture also shows an ad for Meekema Beerenburg.  Berenburg is a local liquor that is highly regulated.  Only a few distilleries are permitted to use the term Berenburg, but there are some pretenders who call their brew Berinbourg and Borenburg or in ths case Beerenburg.  It is a grain vodka mixed with herbs that give it the flavors of citrus, lavender, rosemary, cedar and juniper.  The resulting taste causes some confusion and the liquor is often assumed to be gin rather than vodka.  It's said to be an acquired taste but I thought my Sonnema Berenberg, one of the original distillers, quite delicious when I used one of those miniature bottles from my hotel minibar to ward off any evil effects from being caught in the rain.

Breathing Again

I’m always amazed that I don’t know I’m holding my breath until I breathe.

James met for the first time with his oncologist this week and it is the last time they will need to meet.  The diagnosis has been officially changed to stage one colon cancer, the surgery totally removed the cancer, there will be no need for chemotherapy, there is no need for any additional treatment, and there is no need for follow-up with the oncologist.  James will do his regular checkups with his primary care physician and the only thing added to his usual regimen is an annual colonoscopy.

The reason for this good outcome is of course early detection.  James has always been good about responding to the signals from his body and consulting with his doctor if something is amiss.  He is urging all of his friends to have the tests done that our primary care physicians are always recommending but we might put off because we’re busy.  I'll join him in urging everyone to make sure that any cancers lurking in our bodies get detected early.

I felt the greatest relief when I got the news about James’ visit to the oncologist.  On an intellectual level, I already knew that the evidence indicated that he was going to be fine.  But those worries that mothers carry around in their emotions had been keeping me awake at night and had been skittering around during the day.  The stress was definitely affecting me, although I had no idea that was true until the stress was no longer there.  I’ve had good sleep for the past two nights.  And I’m breathing again.

The Language Tax

This morning I chatted with the room maid, the young man from Vietnam who is so funny and cheerful. He was full of stories because he had walked and walked in the recent sunshine and it made him very happy. And then one of my hotel favorites, a tall brash young woman who is pretty and sunny, came to refill the minibar and we chatted about the book and how my research was getting on. I went downstairs to the main desk to deliver my laundry and the 20-something young woman inquired about my recent visit to the Frysk Museum and whether I had seen the WWII Jewish wing. I went back up to my room and was happily writing away in the sunshine and fresh breezes coming through the open door that connects to my balcony. A young man appeared on my balcony (!) carrying hoses and squeegees. Being a Mensan, I knew immediately that he was there to wash the windows so I asked if he wanted me to close the door. He laughed and suggested that closing the door would indeed be a good idea since he was about to spray it with water and soap. He and I giggled together as he helped me move the balcony furniture and close the door. Then I went over to the money exchange booth at the train station and the young man there helped me find the best nearby ATM. The store clerks at the drug store and the food shop helped me find what I needed today. The waitress at the sidewalk café apologized for greeting me in Dutch and I protested that it was her country and her language. She said, "No, no, my colleague told me you were English and I just forgot when I got to your table. I don’t like to make mistakes like that."

So there we have it. Two hotel maids, a desk clerk, a window washer, a travel assistant, two store clerks and a café waitress were all perfectly able to communicate with me because they were bilingual and in some cases multilingual. And I was suddenly embarrassed by my linguistic arrogance. I am a privileged visitor in this country and can only function because everyone around me has made an effort to learn a language and I haven't.

So tonight I thought I would atone. I ordered dessert from a Dutch menu and didn't ask for any translation. I was pretty sure pears and cheese were the main ingredients and I love pears and I love cheese. And I was right. A great mound of pungent blue cheese came to the table, surrounded by small dices of canned pear, tiny greens, and a scoop of vanilla and pear ice cream on top. Each individual item was OK. Together the mixture was...interesting. And a bit...inedible. When James and Elaine were living in Paris, they would sometimes order a menu item that would turn out to be ... interesting and they called that the language tax -- the price you pay for failing to understand the language. So I paid the language tax tonight but I will continue to atone.

Tomorrw I will say goedemorgen and dag and dank u wel and I'll learn how to pronounce the menu items and what they mean. I'll start learning some basic words and phrases and I'll stop being so arrogant just because so many of these lovely people are better educated than I am.

Cool Things To Do With Cell Phones

I saw a woman walking down the street today speaking into her cell phone.  And realized she was the first person I had seen talking in public on a cell phone since I’ve been here.  I thought perhaps I just hadn’t been noticing so I kept looking for cell phone talkers.  After a few hours, I did see a gentleman sitting in the hotel lounge area and he was on his phone.  I thought back to the last few days in Virginia:  standing in line at Whole Foods with three or four conversations going on around me; going out to my car from Lord and Taylor and finding ten or so people walking toward me, all intent on their phone calls; the woman in the Dulles Airport who spoke loudly and incessantly for the 45 minutes I waited for my plane; the 50 or 60 phones that came out for final goodbyes as we were called to board.  I know the Netherlands is well-wired and most people have a cell phone.  They just don’t use their phone quite the way folks in the US do.  And they are a lot less annoying.

I talked to both of my sons today on the phone.  James discovered that he could download a Skype application to his Android and he could call my computer on Skype.  I can also call his Skype Android app and even leave messages on his phone if he isn’t available.  I e-mailed Justin with the news and he quickly downloaded the same app and we talked as well.  I can of course call any phone number from my computer Skype account but the charges, while more reasonable than many companies, are still pricey for international calls.  Skype to Skype on the other hand is free.  So my boys and I chatted away without having to count the pennies and we had a great time.

To be perfectly clear, Skype to Skype is free for now.  I read today that Skype is being acquired by Microsoft so I’m not sure how much longer we can expect free calls.

Heat Wave

Have you noticed that the photos I've posted all seem to have grey skies and flat light? It's not a problem with the camera or the photographer; it's a problem with the sky, which is grey a lot more often than blue. It's usually cool and overcast and the local joke is that when the temperature hits 72 degrees Fahrenheit that a heat wave is in progress. It happened today.

The person who cleans my room is not the same person every day but often is a young man from Vietnam who chatters happily as he plumps pillows and cleans every surface of the room. He was quite giddy about the weather and really thrilled that it was so warm and sunny today. He said he was hurrying through his work so he could go walking in the sunshine. He kept insisting, "I know you want to write your book, but you must go out and play in the warmth. Walk! Walk! There is sunshine everywhere!"

The temperature has been in the 50s and 60s ever since I got here and this, they tell me, is quite typical for August near the North Sea. There’s a little sun during the day, there are lots of clouds during the day, and most days it rains a bit. There is air conditioning in the hotel but I don't use it. I do use the duvet at night though. It’s really been very pleasant and I got a little uncomfortable this afternoon during my walk in the 72 degrees with the sun shining on my back. Thinking back to the 100 degree Washington DC summer we endured this year makes me wonder how in the world 72 degrees can be uncomfortably warm.

I've eaten my meals at the outdoor cafes almost every day. A couple of times it's been too chilly or too wet to stay outside but usualy it's perfect weather for a breakfast or dinner al fresco. I’m usually glad for the long sleeved shirts and the sweaters and light jackets I brought along with me. I have couple of items that were great for a US summer but really would be inappropriate here so they are back in the suitcase until I leave. I thought about getting that short-sleeved red sweater out today, though, just for this 72-degree heat wave.