Adventures in Integration

2011, AKA "The Rollercoaster"

2011-12-23T10:14:00.000+01:00

I can’t believe that Christmas is upon us. In a couple of days I’ll be sitting down to feast after feast, coming down from a post present opening frenzy. I received a gorgeous letter from my great aunt today, with all the news of her year, and it made me reflect on everything that has happened in my own life this year.

It’s been a year of the lowest lows and the highest possible highs. I’ve been to places I never thought I would get to and seen some of the most spectacular sights imaginable. Here’s how it panned out...

I welcomed in the new year with Maarten and friends, watching the neighbourhood fireworks display (as it’s legal to buy fireworks in the weeks leading up to New Year), then on New Year’s Day, Maarten braved the infamous New Year’s Dive. This year they had cut a hole in the ice and he had to jump in and climb out of the frozen swimming pool. We then went home and celebrated with the family by eating Oliebollen and Boerenkool and I made my epic “Ik kom klaar” comment to the grandparents.

The hole in the ice for the New Year's Dive

January marked the first of our new years resolution trips abroad - to Ghent which I loved and then February we made the trip to Berlin. I was lucky enough to visit the Berlin Zoo and see poor Knut only a few weeks before he died. March was Carnaval in Maastricht and a trip of a lifetime to Prague.

The three towers of Ghent

Prague city skyline

Through all of this I was noticing some strange happenings within my body, so went to have a check up in Early April, only to find out that I returned a very serious result in a PAP smear, which in turn resulted in an even more serious outcome after a biopsy - severe dysplaysia and surgery pretty much ASAP. This was the absolute low point for me this year (perhaps even my life so far). Before I knew what was going on I was terrified. Of course when confronted with cancer it’s perfectly normal to freak out somewhat, but I think it was the shock that was the hardest to deal with. Once I had all the information and knew the worst case scenario (a hysterectomy), I could manage and get on with it.

Then, not only was I dealing with the fallout of this news, literally the day before my scheduled surgery, I found out that I was pregnant with Inky. We then had to dash to the doctor to find out what happens next, and the specialist and oncologist were adamant that the surgery had to progress, it just wasn’t safe to put it off until after the baby was born. So, we rescheduled, and I went under the knife in August.

Our first look at Inky

In the mean time, we were still persisting with our monthly trips abroad. In May we went to Madrid and Segovia, which was probably one of the best trips we made this year. Segovia was magical with its startling skyline and Madrid was just one of the most amazing cities in Europe.

Stunning Segovia

June took us to Normandy and the stunning Mont St Michel via Le Somme World War I battlefields, Vainstream and Hurricane music festivals and the pregnancy bombshell.

Mont St Michel

In July we (and I mean Maarten’s dad) renovated our bathroom. It was such a tiring time. All I wanted to do was sleep, but had to push through and at least pretend I was contributing to the effort! Our trip abroad was also a bit half-arsed. We didn’t have the time or the spare money, so we dashed across the border to Aachen for a schnitzel before celebrating a friend’s birthday in Maastricht. So it still counted!

August saw me taking the train to Paris to meet my oldest friend Fleur, which was just the coolest day ever. Two girls from Avenue Range living it up in Paris, munching on macarons and sipping champagne. It was such a highlight. The day after I came home from Paris I checked into the hospital for the surgery and then a couple of weeks later was given the all-clear. No cancer and they had been able to cut it all out.

September was holiday month. We booked a ten day trip to Crete and it was just wonderful. We stayed just outside Hersonissos and made the island our own. Maarten surprised me with an early Christmas present on the second last day - a trip to Santorini! Sadly one day just isn’t enough to appreciate it and I just can’t wait to go back.

Santorini

The view from our hotel, Crete

The beach at Agios Pavlos, Crete

Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

By the time October rolled around I was really starting to feel my pregnancy. Tiring easily and trying not to be too much of a dragon (that is sometimes a losing battle!). For our weekendje weg, we went to Antwerpen, which is a beautiful city, just an absolute bitch to get around/into. Driving the ring road is like running a gauntlet, you just never know when your number’s up. Getting into the city itself is just as big a nightmare. A maze of one way systems and no parking (obviously an exaggeration). Once you’re in, it’s wonderful though. The train station is listed as one of the top five most beautiful stations in the world and the city is just lovely to try and get lost in. But the traffic was just way too stressful for me, and I don’t want to go back.

In November I realised that my pregnancy was just flying by - I cracked the third trimester! Inky has been growing and making herself known all the time. Our second last trip was to Barcelona - an absolute flying city visit. We saw the high points and enjoyed Siesta and then came home again. It was a taster really, but enough for me to well and truly fall in love with the city and start dreaming of a return trip.

It was also about this time that my body started to pack up on me. A mad dash to the hospital (seriously, I’ve been there so often this year I must be on their Christmas card list) saw me kept in for a couple of days for observation and the decision was made by the doctors that I had to stop working, the stress was just too much and I was at risk of going into premature labour. At twenty nine weeks, was the last thing I wanted to hear, so since then I’ve been ensconced on my couch day in day out, with only the occasional trip out the door to run errands.

At first I thought I would go a bit mad, but now I’m used to it and am starting to like it. You’d think that because I’m home all day the house would be spotless, the washing and ironing would be done and I’d be well up to date on current affairs, but no! Inky’s bedroom however, is ready for its new tenant and I spend quite a bit of time in there just marvelling at the idea of a baby moving in in about seven weeks from today. Seven weeks!

Today I’m sitting down preparing for Christmas. All the presents are wrapped and under the tree and I’m menu planning for our Boxing Day feast. It’s also our last child-free Christmas and I just know that Christmases from now on are going to be so different and much more fun.

I can’t wait for 2012 to get cracking. One of my dearest friends is coming from Australia and will celebrate New Year with us, my mum arrives in about three weeks time and Inky could appear at any moment. Then my dad is coming in March. 2012 is going to be the best year ever.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Tell me about your highs and lows in 2011. Has it been the rollercoaster ride I’ve had?

Weekendje Weg - Christmas Markets, Cologne

2011-12-11T16:55:00.001+01:00

I can’t believe that it’s December already? Where did this year go?

We’ve just come home from our very last Weekendje Weg for the year. That makes it twelve, yes twelve planned trips abroad this year, one a month (actually it worked out to be more, but we’ll stick to twelve for the purposes of this post) every month since January. Needless to say, I’m pretty chuffed with the achievement.

This month is Christmas Market month in Germany and it’s basically compulsory that we visit at least one every year. In the past we have been to Muenster, Essen and Aachen, and this year we decided to brave Cologne. So did the rest of the free world, apparently.

Getting to Cologne was a breeze. Couple of hours on the freeway and traffic (for a change) was quite reasonable, plus the weather was perfect. We found a park within minutes and were in amongst it almost straight away.

What I hadn’t counted on was the crowds. Obviously I expected the city to be busy, it’s the lead up to Christmas after all, but oh my goodness. There was a couple of protest groups on the Dom square and just getting into the market at the Dom was a nightmare. Shoving, pushing, shuffling, and just general antisocial behaviour. Before I had even looked at a stall I was fed up.

We took some time out by visiting the Dom. The Cologne cathedral is reportedly the tallest gothic structure in the world and wow! I had to crane my neck to see the top, and couldn’t fit it all into one frame on my camera. And inside, it was just as impressive. Although it was almost as busy in there as it was outside in the Christmas markets! Still, well worth the visit. Next time I’ll make sure I go in January when it’s very cold and on a Monday. Just to appreciate it better!

The Cologne Cathedral. Massive.

Couldn't even get half of it in the frame!

Purely by coincidence a big group of my friends were also visiting Cologne for the Christmas Markets, so we had big plans to meet up somewhere, but after being shoved around at the third market (as they’re dotted all over the city centre) I had had enough. I shouted at a French guy who took the levels of crowd etiquette too far and realised that it was time to go. We never did find a place to rendezvous, but I'm sure they had a fabulous time!

We decided to head back to our hotel in Neuss for some relaxation time and brave the Christmas market there later in the evening instead. We booked a room at the Mecure Hotel in Neuss via our new favourite booking site, hotelspecials.nl for the princely sum of 59 euros for two including breakfast. I like to reflect on how we’ve progressed this year, beginning in Ghent at a Formule 1 Hotel and ending in Neuss in a Mecure.

The hotel itself was really comfortable. We were in a bed that was actually one bed, rather than two pushed together (which is something very common in Germany and the Netherlands I find) and although the room was small, it wasn’t Barcelona small and it had all the necessary trimmings. Breakfast was fabulous, with a huge selection of food on offer. I managed to gorge myself, as usual!

In the evening we headed into Neuss, which incidentally claims the title of “Germany’s oldest city,” as it’s built on a former Roman settlement to have some dinner and check out the Christmas market there. The market was so much more civilised. There were less stalls though, but more food. And the people were all really enjoying their gluhwein and the live music. The scene fit the definition of “Gezellig” in my eyes perfectly.

We ate at the Haus am Markt, which was very busy and the food and service was really very good. Even though it seemed to be booked out (Christmas parties), they managed to squeeze us in without any trouble The table next to us all ordered steaks (out with Grandma, who was most likely paying the bill!) that looked so good my mouth watered. I’m now counting the days until I have my baby, just so I can have a mammouth piece of steak with a glass of Coonawarra Cabernet. I could have ordered steak, but I couldn’t face ruining it by having it served well done.

So, back to the Christmas market, and the entire point of this particular weekendje weg. What did I think, really? Well, Cologne is much too big and there are just too many tourists there for my liking. I find at smaller markets (like Muenster or Essen), the crowds are mostly German, and incredibly polite. There is sometimes a bit of pushing, but it’s usually just at the entrances and exits. Inside, everyone knows the rules (stay to the right, don’t push and don’t stop without stepping out of the way a bit first). However, at Cologne it was one big free-for-all and really not enjoyable for me. I enjoyed it so little, I did not spend one cent. Nothing (lunch and gluhwein for Maarten doesn’t count, obviously).

If I decide to go back to a market next Christmas, it will most definitely be to a smaller city. Maybe back to Aachen (my favourite German city). Or perhaps we’ll brave Dortmund (with Europe’s tallest Christmas tree). It’s even more likely that I’ll be chained to the house with a nine month old child...!

Have you been to the German Christmas markets in Cologne or somewhere else? What did you think? Where’s a location that you would recommend?

Weekendje Weg - Barcelona

2011-11-22T20:52:00.001+01:00

More than six months ago we booked a weekend trip to Barcelona. So much has happened since then, I still can’t believe that we found the energy to go!

We had been watching flight prices for more than a year, but have never been able to find a price good enough for us to take the plunge (tight-arses that we are). So it was almost a serendipitous moment when I was cruising for offers one day and saw that EasyJet had one of its sensational sales for a destination that actually appeals and we snapped up the tickets quick smart, for the ludicrous price of 120 EUR return for the two of us.

Our big problem was that because we had so many trips locked in, we had barely any spare holiday days available, so we made the decision to only take a flying visit (literally) between Friday and Sunday nights. I have to say, I was quite nervous about both the flight and how busy we would be. At 28 weeks pregnant, I’m just not as mobile as I was when we booked the flights (back in the pre-pregnancy days). We just agreed to take it very easy and if I was too tired, I would just go back to the hotel and have a sleep.

We had what can only be described as a dream trip from Schiphol to Barcelona. Great seats (managed to secure a spare seat between us in a virtually full flight), then a super fast connection to our hotel with the Aerobus in Barcelona. We were in the hotel within an hour of getting off the plane, which is absolutely unheard of usually at any destination we go to.

We stayed at the Grupotel Gravina, just off La Rambla. The location was sensational. A 30 second walk to the Universitat Metro station and less than five minutes to Plaza Catalunya. Even better, the hotel was in a quiet side street, with virtually no city noise.

The room was however, very small. The double (just) bed was pushed into the corner (which I hate), so there was only access from one side and it was also quite stuffy, so we opened our window so we could sleep the first night. Some time during that first night I was woken by some pretty serious banging that sounded like it was coming from outside. In my sleepy state I wasn’t quite sure what it could be, until I twigged. It was the neighbours going at it. And I mean really going at it. It went on so long and so loudly that I wasn’t sure if I should be envious or sympathetic. And then just when we thought the slapping, moaning, banging and yelling German sweet nothings was starting to get out of hand (after more than an hour, mind you), they abruptly stopped, had a shower, then slammed their window shut! Yep, show’s over folks, we’re going to sleep now! I will admit that at breakfast the next morning I was sneaking looks around the restaurant to see if I could spot the culprits and congratulate/chastise them.

Speaking of breakfast, it was included in the price of the room and although there was a sign in the lift warning guests to eat before 8.30 am to avoid the queues, we slept late (due to the neighbours’ late night performance) so didn’t get downstairs until around 9.00. Big mistake. Huge. The queue was out the door and we knew we had to leave by 10.00 to make Sagrada Familia on time. So, we retreated upstairs to get ourselves completely ready in the hopes that the line would have shortened by the time we came back half an hour or so later.

This turned out to be a good choice. We only had to stand in line for about five minutes before we were seated. However, waiting until almost the end of breakfast service is never really a great idea. There were about two pieces of bacon and a spoonful of eggs left, plus the pastries on the ‘dessert’ buffet had dried out and were no longer really edible. On Sunday, we were up and at breakfast before 8.00 am, and as among the first to eat, we had a great choice of the freshest ingredients.

My tip: Don’t sleep in before breakfast. Get yourself up early, tuck in to the good stuff, then retreat to your room for a bit of a rest before starting your day. Works a treat.

We had looked into a couple of travel options (and when I say we, I mean Maarten) and were tossing up between one of those hop on hop off tourist buses, or the metro. The hop on hop off buses are expensive (around 23 euros), so we decided to try out the metro. We thought that if it was rubbish, we could just go for the bus and be done with it. But, the Barcelona metro is a delight! The trains are new, the stations are spotless, the trains run perfectly on time (about every three minutes) and best of all, the tickets are cheap!

We bought a ten trip card for 8.25 EUR on the first morning that can be used by multiple passengers. So Maarten would check in, hand the ticket to me and then I would check in. So simple and there are several different options. For example, we could have gone for the one day unlimited travel card, which is 6.20 EUR per person, but weren’t sure how many trips we would take. As it turned out, we had one trip (each) remaining on Sunday morning. I can’t recommend the metro enough.

We took the metro to our first stop of the trip, Sagrada Familia. I stepped out of the metro station and when greeted with my first view of the temple I thought: Meh. Is this it? But it turned out to just be the angle I was standing at. As we walked around and I saw it from all angles, my awe grew, as did the church, in my eyes. The second thing I noticed was the queue. I had been warned that the queue to get into the church was hours long, and the crowd didn’t disappoint. While it wasn’t equal to the summer Louvre queues, it was down the block and well around the corner and easily a couple of hours long. On the very sound advice of my friend Natalia, we pre-booked our tickets and waltzed straight past the queue and took the express entrance, score! I won’t lie, I did consider flashing my arse to those poor souls standing in line for hours...

Sagrada Familia

Standing looking at the outside, I was struggling for a way to describe what it makes me feel or see. The building feels organic. Like it was carved out of a single piece of stone, or like it has been there for all time and humans just moulded it slightly. Inside it feels like a futuristic forest. Like you’re standing amongst giant trees and staring up at the canopy in wonder.

Inside Sagrada Familia

It turns out that what I felt was basically Gaudi’s intention! The pillars inside are inspired by tree trunks and the entire structure is inspired by nature. You know, it’s just wonderful to experience art (no matter the scale) and just get it. Instead of just looking at a painting/sculpture and wondering what the artist’s intention was or why you don’t see it. I look at Picasso, or Mondrian and often I don’t see the meaning (who am I kidding, I never see it), but with Gaudi’s projects inspired by nature, you just feel it.

But anyway. Off from Sagrada Familia and on to Park Guell, another Gaudi nature project. Maarten had warned me that it was a “bit of a bitch” to get to and stupid me thought he meant that it was a bit out of the way on the metro, but no! What he actually meant was that once you stepped out of the metro you have to walk about a kilometre up (what feels like) the third steepest street in the world, eep! But, I put on a brave face. After all, I did climb Heart Attack Hill twice a week for two years, so this was clearly going to be a walk in (to?) the park. Lucky for me half of the journey was serviced by escalators so we made it to the top in a jiffy. Note to Kings Canyon park rangers: Escalators!

Our walk wound us around the top of the hill and offered beautiful views of the city and Mt Tibidabo (remember that Friends episode?) and over the bay. Then we descended into the park itself and to see Gaudi’s work at its finest. The two houses that look like something out of Hansel and Gretel. The walls built to resemble birds nests. The curved walkway that looks like a wave, and of course the mosaics. I fell in love with the place, and not even the enormous crowds and revolting toilets could put me off.

One of the houses inside Park Guell

The Salamander - synonymous with Gaudi's work in Barcelona

After visiting Park Guell, it was most definitely siesta time for me, so I headed back to the hotel and Maarten went exploring by himself. Siesta stretched well into the evening, and it was quite late when we finally headed out for dinner, with a spot of shopping along the way. I just love that all the stores stay open until 9.00pm, so convenient!

Sunday Morning we were up early for all the fresh goodies on the breakfast buffet and then headed out to enjoy the city by ourselves. Something that we just love doing is getting out and about early in a new city on a Sunday morning. There are virtually no people around, so we can really get a great feel for the place. We visited a couple of Gaudi-designed houses, and went inside the Casa Mila which is now a museum. It was very expensive; around 15 euros per person and there wasn’t a lot to see. Not if you compare it with other, far greater museums. Although it was very cool (and World Heritage listed), if you’re on a budget visiting Barcelona, I would give entering this one a miss. It’s fabulous for the chimneys on top, but that is the main attraction to be perfectly honest. It’s one of those places that you think will be much more than it is.

Casa Batllo, inspired by St George and the dragon

Chimneys atop Casa Mila

We stopped off for a spot of lunch at one of the many, many Spanish bars for a bocadillo (sandwich/half a baguette) and one of Barcelona’s specialities; Patatas Bravas. Basically, it’s cooked potato pieces with a yummy spicy mayonnaise-like sauce. Very, very tasty. These bars are so cheap and simple, it makes me wonder why we insist on all the trimmings at cafes across Europe and Australia when the Spanish do it perfectly, remembering it’s all about the food, not the fancy decor.

Patatas Bravas

As it was getting close to the time that we needed to head to the airport, we ambled through a park, past Barcelona’s Arc de Triomf and via the Cathedral to the hotel before catching the bus to the airport. It was then that we discovered that back home in the Netherlands, there was a blanket of mist waiting to greet us and that Schiphol was in chaos with flights cancelled and delayed left right and centre.

Lucky for us, we took off on time and were only delayed a little while circling at Schiphol, but spent half an hour taxiing to the terminal - the one runway that we always seem to land on is basically in Haarlem, although it feels like it’s in Alkmaar... We were out of the plane, straight on a train, and then home tucked up in bed before 11.00 pm, ready to go to work first thing Monday morning!

What did I love about Barcelona? Everything. Although I only spent a very short amount of time there, I really felt at home and like I could have stayed and blended in immediately. I loved all the buildings that I saw by Gaudi and wish that I had more exposure to it when I was younger, it is truly inspirational.

What didn’t I love about Barcelona? Nothing. It was spotless. Never once did I feel like a target for pickpockets. The key is to be vigilant, but not over the top. Just keep a hand on your bag and don’t look like an obvious tourist. Those of you who wear a money belt and zip off trousers, I’m talking to you!

November is also a fabulous time to go. The weather was still great (I could have worn shorts to be honest) and there are half the amount of people that visit during the summer season. It’s the perfect off-season destination, but is Spain ever really off-season..?

Basically, I can’t wait to go back. Can’t wait.

Have you been to Barcelona? What are your tips and what did you think of it? Did you love Gaudi as much as I do?

The Expat List

2011-10-17T16:29:00.000+02:00

This morning I opened my blog reading list and first stop was Our Big Expat Adventure, a blog written by a fellow Australian, living in Singapore. The author, KJ and I connected over a mutual love for mamamia.com.au and now chatter away on Twitter fairly regularly.

Today’s post is titled The Expat List and just reading it made me become excited. I’m certain that every expat has their list filled with weird and wonderful items that only fellow country(wo)men can relate to, I know I do. I have found that over the years as I get used to living abroad my list has decreased somewhat, However, my mum is coming to visit in a few months with a luggage allowance of 30kg (bless you Emirates), so I’m in the process of putting together the full shebang. She’ll regret offering by the time she has no space left for her own clothes!

Here’s my list of essentials:

Arnotts Pizza Shapes. If you don’t know what pizza shapes are, it’s probably a good thing. They are good enough to consume my thoughts for days on end. Really.
Chickadee chicken salt. I’m sure the ingredients aren’t only ‘chicken’ and ‘salt’ but it’s so damn tasty that I could cover anything with it.
De Jour tampons. I don’t know why, but tampons outside Australia just aren’t as good. Plus it seems women in the Netherlands prefer sanitary towels, which are just not for me.
Tea bags. English breakfast is my flavour of choice, and the blends here in the Netherlands are just not up to scratch. I love Twinings, Tetley and the best: PG Tips. I usually put in an order for those when I know someone going to the UK. I have found them in the Black Market in Beverwijk, but that’s an hour’s drive, just for tea...
Chocolate. It’s weird what you miss. Belgium is as close to Almere as Mount Gambier is to Lucindale, but when all you want is a Violet Crumble or a block of Cadbury Snack Godiva just doesn’t hit the spot!
Heinz (or home brand) cheesy tinned spaghetti. Love it. I can also get tinned spaghetti from the UK, but the Australian version is just that much better.
Crumpets.
Cotties apple and raspberry flavoured cordial. This is a new addition to the list. I really miss ‘proper’ cordial.
DiGiorgio Family Wines sparkling pinot noir chardonnay. My all time favourite bubbly. Helps that it’s from my home town!
Bundaberg rum. This is for my husband. The smell takes me back to too many nights of obscene drunkenness, and these days it’s only after I’ve drunk my body weight in beer or wine that I think rum is a good idea.
Vegemite. Of course. What I would really love is a cheddarmite scroll from Bakers Delight. Yum!
Promite. I prefer it to vegemite actually.

Notice that Tim Tams are missing? I love them, but they don't quite make my essentials list. Chuck in an extra box of pizza shapes instead.

What about you? What’s on your list of items from home when someone comes to visit?

Is that light I see at the end of the tunnel?

2011-10-12T18:00:00.000+02:00

Just recently I’ve noticed a shift in my perception and attitude to life here in the Netherlands. Confrontations or situations that earlier would have left a black cloud hanging over my head for an entire day (or a week, sometimes!) no longer seem to bother me for much longer than a couple of minutes. Often these days I’ll have a near miss on my bike with an idiot in a car on the way to work and by the time I arrive at the office it has been forgotten.

I have been wondering to myself if perhaps, finally, I’m transitioning through the stages of culture shock. It is generally understood that culture shock passes within a few months (certainly within a year), but I talk to people here in the Netherlands who are clearly still struggling, often after a few years. I certainly have been!

According to Wikipedia culture shock has four distinct phases; Honeymoon, Negotiation, Adjustment and Mastery. In the honeymoon phase everything is lovely and new, bright and shiny, exciting and fascinating. The negotiation phase tends to kick in once one realises that life isn’t actually all roses. Differences between the home culture and new culture become glaringly apparent, and the differences are often difficult to deal with. Language, social interaction and perhaps one of the big issues for people coming to the Netherlands is the attitude within primary health care and its magical wonder drug, paracetamol, can become overwhelming.

Eventually the negotiation phase fades and the adjustment stage will begin. Wikipedia states that this usually happens between the six and twelve month mark, although if my own experience is anything to go by, it can take much, much longer. In the adjustment phase one will develop more of a positive outlook and deal with issues as they arise instead of getting bogged down in the differences and difficulties that they would have during the negotiation phase.

Finally, the mastery phase. Basically full integration. This does not mean losing one’s own cultural identity, but becoming comfortable enough in the new country that they finally feel at home and at ease.

I have been struggling along in the negotiation phase for a very long time. So long in fact, that I don’t even remember the honeymoon phase. Perhaps my honeymoon phase was in the time when I was just a regular visitor, rather than a resident. I do remember marvelling at the ING building in Amsterdam Zuid on my first trip and traversing the Oosterschelde and Afluitdijk respectively was an incredible experience for me.

ING building, Amsterdam. Pic

But, I have so many memories of incidents and hurdles that really bogged me down. Regular tantrums in the supermarket for not being able to find the "right" products. Horror and anger that would last for days at a perceived slight from an encounter in public. Throwing my homework across the room and refusing to continue at the tone of some to the integration coursework. Uncontrollable tears when I break three wine glasses in one day because I’m just useless and can’t do anything right (that was a merry Christmas, let me tell you). All things that should in all seriousness be water off a ducks back. But they just weren’t. Everything was so much harder. I would take everything personally. Maarten has been unbelievably patient with me for a very long time and it’s really only now that I’m coming out the other end that I realise just how trying I must have been (who am I kidding, still am!).

Why has the transition into adjustment finally come about after so long? I really think that it has to do with all of the health dramas I’ve had this year. As a consequence of being ill, I’ve had to put myself out there and speak Dutch. I’ve had to be proactive in interacting with others. I’ve had to take a good look at myself and my own attitude.

It’s really only been in the last week or so that I’ve actually noticed this shift in my own attitude. I’m happier more than I have been the entire three and a half years living here in the Netherlands. I can finally have a meaningful conversation with my mother in law as I am much more confident with my level of Dutch. When I encounter antisocial behaviour (daily) I’ll just think “sukkel” and forget about it almost immediately.

By no means does my new outlook make me reflect and think that my old attitude was ridiculous and invalid. I don’t doubt that others around me believe(d) that I was behaving like a crazed harpy, but that makes my own feelings no less important or relevant. Life has been a real struggle for me in the last few years. I could not count the amount of hours, days or probably even weeks that I’ve spent wishing that I could be in Australia, or even anywhere else if I'm honest. I do truly believe that there are real social and behavioural issues that need dealing with here in the Netherlands which have been a huge factor in how I've felt. The bubble mentality is so ingrained that it is very obvious that many, many people think only of themselves. You can enter any supermarket or stand in any queue and experience it. Maarten’s grandfather, who is quite possibly the most lovely man you could meet turns into a shoving monster when he’s put into a queue for free food. His appalling behaviour has to be seen to be believed!

What happens now? I keep moving up. I seem to be slowly evolving into more of a glass half full type of person and I’m liking this new outlook. I’m not walking around with a dark cloud hovering over my head any more. I can finally see and appreciate my life and how damned good I have it.

And let’s face it. I have some pretty cool experiences coming up soon. Not only am I having a baby in a few months, but my mum is making her first trip abroad to visit us. This is huge. The woman is terrified of flying and is going to put herself through quite possibly the worst plane journey on earth in the middle of our winter just to come here. It makes my heart sing.

Lastly, I’m going to master this culture shock if it kills me.

Which stage are you at in the four phases of culture shock? How have you coped? How long has it taken you to see the light at the end of the tunnel?

Learning the Lingo

2011-09-29T16:36:00.000+02:00

If you've read this blog before, you'll already know that most of it is centered around my trials and tribulations with the language (and culture) of my adopted homeland. So this one won't really be out of the ordinary.

This week's Xpat Blog Hop is all about language and learning the native tongue of the land you live in. When I first moved to the Netherlands, I had absolutely no intention of learning Dutch. Aside from being able to order a beer and catch the bus, I didn't care. This was only going to be a short term solution and I would be out of here, back in the land of the Cashed Up Bogan (or Australia, as you may better know it as) within a couple of years. Why waste the energy right? Plus, Maarten was perfectly happy that I didn't speak Dutch. Let's face it, his English is almost as good as mine. It's probably best left unmentioned that he speaks German, Spanish and a bit of French as well.

However, there was always a pesky little voice in the back of my head shaming me and my lack of Dutch. I was always embarrassed to answer "18 months" when asked how long I've been living here. It was made worse by the constant "How's your Dutch?" questions. Perhaps it was because my sensitivity to the topic was so enhanced, but it felt like every single time I would meet a new person, it would be the second question they asked me (after "Why move to Holland?!).

Then The Summons arrived and I was expected to front up for inburgering at the local city council office, and was dragged pretty much kicking and screaming to classes. It took me eight months to pass the integration course, and almost that long again to find the time to collect my diploma! But the big question is, how has it affected my life?

I'm not going to sugar coat it, learning Dutch was (who am I kidding, IS!) hard. Especially as a native English speaker with limited second language exposure. I did study French and Indonesian at school, but never to levels high enough to exist in those countries in my opinion. The grammar is about face, the sentences are back to front, and just ask any immigrant to the Netherlands how many times a Dutchie has insisted they pronounce "Scheveningen" for kicks!

However, the rewards have been endless. I can actually have a conversation with Maarten's non-English grandparents without breaking into a cold sweat (this was one thing that kept me going in the days I was really struggling). Same goes for talking to little Dutch kids. I'm going through as much of my midwife appointments speaking only Dutch as I can. Now I receive compliments about my Dutch. But, by far the biggest compliment for me is having a Dutch continue conversation with me as normal when I speak in Dutch. There are no hesitations, no switching to English, no smart remarks about my accent (I have been told I sound like Princess Maxima, brag brag), just conversation.

Learning to speak Dutch has enriched my life no end, I don't regret it for a second. I just wish I was better at it. I'll get there.

How many of these have you read?

2011-09-02T09:30:00.000+02:00

I was over having a sticky beak at A Drop in the Bucket just now and I noticed a link called 100 books. As an enormous book lover, this list really intrigued me. I wanted to see how many I have actually read. There was an original list posted on The Guardian website a few years ago, and it seems to have started a load of Facebook groups dedicated to the list and a series of bloggers really ran with it a while back. Clearly I'm not up with the times, but it interests me all the same.

Now, if it had been a lis of Jack Higgins, Frederick Forsyth, Matthew Reilly and the like, I would have scored full marks. But alas, I'm quite embarrassed that I haven't read some of these classics, such as 1984 or Animal Farm, for example.

BOLD = read.
ITALICS - unfinished

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (May 2011)
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible (half way through)
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell (high school)
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott (junior high/high school)
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy.
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth.
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt.
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

I made it to 46, plus a few that I just couldn't finish, like Atonement. Snore! And, have I really not read Oliver Twist or Moby Dick? I must have, but have no recollection...

How many of the list have you read? And which is your favourite? If I were my friend Annie, I would say Jane Eyre. She reads it at least once a year. Me, I loved A Catcher in the Rye, and Catch 22. And the Narnia books. Honestly, I think I loved all of the books that I have read on the list.

It's that time of week

2011-09-01T08:30:00.000+02:00

Expat Blog Hop time, that is.

This week's topic is:

What was the hardest thing for you to adjust to when you moved to your new country? What tips would you give for new people arriving?

The obvious answer is of course, having to make new friends. But, I bang on about that old chestnut all the time, so instead I'll think of something else.

Erm...

The weather? No. Again, too tiresome to read about, especially after we've just gone through the wettest summer on record here in the Netherlands.

Although it was not necessarily the hardest thing to adjust to, driving on the opposite side of the road has been a big challenge. Not that I drive. I'm too tight to fork out the thousand plus euros to start again when it comes to getting my driver's license.

Working as a tour guide it would crack me up every single time a European tried getting on the wrong side of the bus, until my very first trip to the Netherlands where I stepped off the plane and tried to get into the driver's seat of Maarten's car. He *might* have fallen over laughing at me. It took me a while to get used to, and then the first day on the road back in Australia I managed to pull up at a round a bout on the wrong side of the road! And, what actually made me think of this topic as a major challenge: yesterday evening I tried to get into the driver's seat again! I haven't done that for about three years! I'm putting it down to being a tired, pregnant woman. That'll work as an excuse, won't it?

Then came the next weird concept - giving way to the right. Hang on, in Australia we drive on left and give way to the right, but in the Netherlands we drive on the right and also give way to the right? Absolutely doesn't make sense. Surely the rules should be opposite, right? Right?!

Image

Instead drivers are always (supposed to be) on the look out for cars and bicycles who will nip around a corner in front of them at any given moment because they have right of way (except in controlled conditions, of course). Being a nervous passenger (it's the cause of many, many arguments, poor Maarten) I'm always stomping on my imaginary brakes and grabbing whatever I can to brace! brace! Maybe the fear would go away if I drove, but I think it has more to do with us owning such a small car. There's no way that it would come out of any crash unscathed.

And then there's the freeway antics! The tailgating, swerving in and out of lanes, cutting people off, the excessive speed, the horrendous traffic jams. It astounds me that the road death toll is so low. Having said that, I think Dutch drivers are all in all more competent than their Australian counterparts. More vigilant, don't hog the middle/fast lane unnecessarily, can handle more varied situations better. Until, of course they find themselves on an open road in The Outback....

So, whilst not the hardest thing to adjust to, being on the wrong side of the road has been a big adjustment.

My big tip for newbies (from countries unused to driving on the right side of the road, or from outside Europe), don't panic when a car suddenly pulls out in front of you, chances are they actually have right of way!

I have a problem...

2011-08-29T17:00:00.000+02:00

...I'm addicted to baby stuff.

No, seriously. It's pretty much all I can think about. I'm busy daydreaming about how I'm going to make the baby room look, what the baby's name will be, which pram I'm going to buy, whether or not I'm going to have a boy or a girl, how much giving birth is going to hurt, how I'm going to cling on to my own identity, how I'm going to juggle work and pay for day care (which is a stressy post, all of its own), everything. I feel like there's a tidal wave of blah blah blah that is bursting to get out of me, but I don't want to bombard my poor husband (who only last year went through all this while I was planning a wedding!) and I'm sure there's only so much baby-talk that my friends can take, so you're my lucky victim.

How is all this baby blabber related to my integrating you might ask (if you're even still here. Chances are that you've long clicked on to another, more interesting site). Well. When I'm not on the toilet (nobody seems to tell you how often you have to wee before you get pregnant!) or wearing a peg on my nose from all the offensive smells surrounding me, I've started putting together a Lust List for what I absolutely must have for my baby and some of the items are Dutch!

A couple of weeks ago I had a mad dash to the hospital in the middle of the night (well it was about 5 am, but it was still dark, so technically the middle of the night) because of some nasty bleeding that I was trying not to freak out about. While I was waiting for the doctor to finish delivering two babies (two! One straight after the other - it's a production line!) I noticed a lovely little bit of writing, stuck right on the wall. It seems that there is a fabulous website called Mooi op de Muur where you can order fabulous stickers for your walls, wth a store in Almere! Now I'm busy trawling every single picture for suitability and inspiration:

from the Mooi op de Muur website

And when I'm not busy trawling websites for nice decorations, I'm comparing the prices and usability of different prams (or buggies, or kinderwagons, depending where you come from). Of course I made the mistake of googling 'bugaboo' and now I'm in serious trouble. Bugaboo is like the Porsche of prams. Really. Here's what I'm lusting after most, the Bugaboo Cameleon:

Both images are from the Bugaboo website

The major selling point for the Bugaboo, as opposed to other brands is that it's Dutch designed and owned! You see, as it's such a big investment, I had to have a good selling point to Maarten. But with a retail price of around 850 euros, we are searching every day on Maarten's favourite website of all time: marktplaats.nl. On the upside, they seem to retain their value very well, so we should be able to make some of our money back after a couple of years when ~~I get tired of it~~ the baby grows out of it. Of course, if anyone has a Bugaboo that they would like to get rid of (or if Bugaboo would fancy throwing one my way), please let me know!

So those are two of the many hundreds of things swirling around my head at the moment. But, with the 'baby brain' that I appear to have been afflicted with, I will probably have forgotten what I was talking about by tomorrow.

If you've had a baby of your own, what did you think about all the time? What about prams? What did you use? How did you train your brain to think about other things? Help!

Meet Inky...

2011-08-18T22:25:00.000+02:00

For those of you who haven't been formally introduced, Inky (short for Inkblot) is our 14 week old baby in waiting.

Through all the health dramas of the last few months that I've posted about here, my body clearly thought that I wasn't under enough stress and thought it would throw a baby into the mix.

I was due to go into hospital for the LLETZ surgery and literally two days before I started to wonder if something was amiss. So Maarten and I were crowded around the pregnancy test and were staring in disbelief at the two lines. We didn't quite believe it, so did it again in the morning (the day before the surgery) and bolted to the doctor to find out what on earth happens next.

Cue good news, the surgery was postponed until after we made it to the twelve week mark of the pregnancy. This last week I was thirteen weeks, so they wheeled me in and a team of about ten people took care of slicing off the nasty cells quite safely and now I'm free to get on with enjoying (is that the right word?) being pregnant.

Needless to say, Maarten and I couldn't be happier. Although I'm not usually into the mushy stuff, this truly is a gift. I just have to figure out what to do with it...!

PS. If you need any help figuring out what is what in the picture, the baby is laying face down with the head to the right of the screen. The white line across the top is the spine.

Expat BlogHop - False Expectations

2011-08-11T10:21:00.008+02:00

This week has flown by and it's already Thursday and time to post in Windmill Tales'
regular Expat BlogHop. Here's this week's theme:

Before you moved to the country you are in now, whyat expectations, ideas (things you though happened, things people did, etc) did you have then, that proved to be not true at all?

I think that I was pretty clued up about the Netherlands before I moved here. After all, I had been commuting backwards and forwards for a year before I made the jump. I knew almost nobody wore clogs any more and that tulips are not actually Dutch (just ask the Turkish, they'll tell you) and that hardly anybody is any sort of drug user. One thing I did believe however, was that Dutchies would be the same as Australians. You know, easy going.

Ah, no.

In my years of tour guiding I had met (and loved) countless Dutchies. In fact, if you ask any tour guide in Australia, almost every single one will tell you that Dutchies are THE BEST passengers to have on tour. Flexible, fun loving, enjoy a drink, and have a get on with it mentality. Just like most Australians. So, I thought it would be a walk in the park and moving to the Netherlands would be just like coming home.

Except it wasn't.

Honestly, I was expecting to have myself a new Dutch BFF within three weeks of landing. I was expecting to go out for Friday night drinks with my colleagues every week. I’d be hosting regular dinner parties. I didn't realise what a rude shock I was in for. I'm still looking for my Dutch BFF three years later. I've had drinks with colleagues only a few times, and always at organised events. Making dinner plans is always such an ordeal.

Having to make dinner plans a month in advance with friends is just not for me. I refuse to believe that a person is so busy that the only free evening they have is a Tuesday in five weeks time. Absolutely refuse to believe it. Special events I can absolutely understand. but a casual evening with a bowl of pasta? Ah, no.

Don't for one moment think that this is an "Australians are better" post. I'm not so naiive. I realise that Australians can be so easy going that it's almost impossible to make a decent plan. Traits that I was perfectly used to when I was living in Australia are now almost unbearable. Waiting until you get somewhere to make a plan? Changing your mind fifteen times before choosing a place to eat? Behaving as though running a half hour late is ok and acceptable without a phone call? No thanks.

Now I'm used to the differences and understand that I should not have based my expectations of a couple of hundred people on holiday. Something interesting that I’ve noticed however: many of my other lovepat friends met their husbands whilst on holiday and have also struggled to adapt here as the people are so different to what they expected. So is it our fault that we have these expectations, or are the Dutch just so good at integrating into their location at any given time, they give a false expectation as to what it’s like at home?

Just sayin’...

Back my tour guide days

First Ever Expat BlogHop - What is an Expat for You?

2011-08-04T14:14:00.007+02:00

This post is inspired by my blogging friend over at Tales from Windmill Fields who is kicking off a regular expat blog hop. I hope I can be dedicated enough to participate each week, but my posting record tells me otherwise! I do really need a good kick in the pants to keep on top of a decent schedule, so let’s hope this is it!

This week’s topic is What is an expat for you? Not an easy one to start with, I must say! I did think about recycling an old post, my before and after meme, but where’s the fun in that! So what does it really mean to me to be an expat?

Even though I refer to myself as an expat, I’m really not. I’m not here on assignment and neither am I a trailing spouse. I think the actual term for me might be ‘Lovepat’ or as I like to call myself: an Import Bride, although Maarten certainly didn’t pick me out of a catalogue (he’d be feeling pretty ripped off if he had)!

But what does it really mean to me? Being a fish out of water. Trying new things. Having to cope with a different way of doing everything. Trying to find good underwear. Not being able to buy Crunchy Nut Cornflakes. Driving on the other side of the road. Swearing in a new language. Above all though: being shameless about finding new friends.

Although I’ve lived in half a dozen countries in my lifetime, I found making friends in the Netherlands far harder than anywhere else. For the first six months or so I didn’t make any friends of my own. I would trail along with Maarten (trailing spouse after all, perhaps?) and his friends would be friendly, it didn’t always translate itself into friendship. I was at a bit of a loss as to what do next. It came to the point where a trip to the local supermarket was becoming a big (or)deal. I was becoming agoraphobic. Going to work and coming home, with only the very occasional shoe shopping diversion (which before I moved to the Netherlands was almost a daily occurrence. Have you seen the shoe stores in Edinburgh?!). I was joining Meet Up groups in Amsterdam, but couldn’t be bothered going all the way there to actually meet people.

It all changed one day however, completely out of the blue. I was at my lowest point. It was January, my first winter here, dark and very, very lonely. I received a message out of the blue via Facebook of all places! From a South African woman living here in Almere! I wasn’t alone! We arranged to meet for lunch and really hit it off. After that I was completely rejuvenated. I had one friend of my own. One friend! Before I knew it, I had another. And another. And it snowballed. Now I look around at my circle of friends and have so many, it’s hard to count. And not just acquaintances, but real, true friends. The kind of friends that you can sit in silence with and not feel uncomfortable (not that there’s ever any silence, mind you!). The kind of friends that you know you can ring in the middle of the night and they’ll rescue you. The kind of friends who just get you. Know what I mean? It’s precious and I’m eternally grateful. I feel like I’ve finally found my place here in the Netherlands.

So when you ask, what is an expat for me? I say new friendships. I couldn’t be without them.

Clogs and Tulips - Guest Post

2011-07-20T14:03:00.000+02:00

Last week I had the privilege of guest posting on one of my favourite expat blogs ever, Clogs and Tulips - An American in Holland.

I was so excited about the prospect because, Clogs and Tulips was the first expat blog I found and started reading, way back when I was too scared to even comment, let alone consider writing my own blog about my life here in the Netherlands.

Tiffany writes all about everything here about life as an expat in Holland. The blog has been invaluable for me and has really been one of my favourite go-to resources when I need questions answered about, well, anything! On the blog you can find posts about getting your driver's license, taking the staatexamen, and now, something that is particularly close to my heart, having a baby in the Netherlands.

Pop over for a look, I promise you'll love Clogs and Tulips as much as I do.

Weekendje Weg - Normandy

2011-07-04T18:00:00.000+02:00

When we were discussing what we should do for the Ascension Day holiday, I was super excited that Maarten suggested that we visit Le Mont Saint Michel. It has been on my bucket list ever since my oldest and dearest friend Fleur spent her student exchange year in France and wrote wonderful letters on onion skin paper telling me all about it. Incidentally Fleur now writes for a living, and is insanely good at it.

So anyway, we decided to make the most of our four day long weekend and drive down to Le Mont St Michel, with a little diversion to Giverny and Claude Monet’s garden. His beautiful garden that inspired some of his most famous works of art. We would drive down at a leisurely pace, camping in our awesome new tent and just generally having a nice quiet time away.

Oh, how naive was I?! It started off all very lovely. Hardly any traffic and winding through gorgeous french villages munching on our pain au chocolats and when we arrived in Giverny there was not another soul to be seen. To be honest we weren’t even sure if we were in the right place as the village is tiny and there was nobody around. We parked and went looking for the garden. In the distance we started to see a few people and then all of a sudden it was like the floodgates had opened - people absolutely everywhere! Bus loads of them. All heading towards the garden. And beginning to queue half way down the street. Now, I knew that the garden would be busy. I expected a lot of people. I just did not expect THAT many people.

Nearly at the front of the queue!

With drooping shoulders I joined the queue while Maarten bounced off to check that this was actually a queue for the garden and not an ice cream stand. Maarten tends to bounce. Especially when he knows my mood is potentially going to get worse. He over compensates. “The queue’s not that bad! It’s moving quite well!” bouncy bounce bounce (should I be calling him Tigger, perhaps?). I love him for it. Even though it makes me sigh (and I’m a sighing pro), it means he’s perceptive enough to know when I’m not happy and tries to turn it around before it ruins both our days.

But back to the garden. When we made it to the front of the queue about an hour or so later (it probably wasn’t that long, but this makes for a better story) we discovered that there was ONE ticket counter! ONE! There were about 15 different ways I could have improved the system at a glance and at €9 per person entry, they could certainly afford to make some improvements!

Once in, the crush of people didn’t really ease either. You have to enter the garden via the gift shop and then if you need to use the toilet, forget it. There are four ladies loos for everyone in the garden. The pathways were completely filled with people, so there is a lot of pushing and yelling “ParDON!” which isn’t that much fun when you are trying to admire the beautiful peonies, poppies and waterlillies.

"The" Waterlily Pond

"The" Bridge

Foxglove, I have these in my own garden!

By this stage I was starting to feel a bit disheartened. Visiting Monet’s Garden was supposed to be a dream come true. I mean, I have loved Monet’s paintings since I was a little girl when my BFF Amy introduced me to him via a pack of greeting cards. When I saw my first Monet in the National Gallery in London I shed a tear and had a bit of a “Beatles Moment.” Visiting the garden although it was beautiful, was far too crowded and not something I would honestly recommend. While you can certainly see the ‘sights’ like the waterlillies and the bridge, don’t expect to be able to have a quiet moment or to be able to take a photo without approximately 4000 people picture pooping it. Unless you are a die hard Monet fan, give it a miss.

Just a few people on the bridge

Looks like the Tower of London, right?

From Giverny we headed further west and decided to camp in a beautiful little city called Falaise. I would have really thought it was more of a village than a city, but it has a cathedral, so....

Our campground was smack in the middle of town and our view was the castle of the Duke of Normandy. Otherwise known as William the Conqueror’s dad. William the Conqueror was born in Falaise and although a bastard, was recognised as the duke’s heir upon his death (when William was 7 years old). We all know the story of his triumph at Hastings and beyond and how he reformed England and created the Doomsday Book, but I never actually realised that he had a tenuous claim to the English throne through his aunt Emma of Normandy. It turns out Emma was married to two Kings of England, two of her sons were kings and so were two of her step sons before William. William had even tricked one of the Harolds to swear fealty to him in an early attempt to nab the English throne. And here I was, thinking I was a bit of an arm chair expert in all things Royal..!

I really liked the campground. It was cheap, central and had great showers. however, don’t expect a seat for your toilet when you stay in French campgrounds (or use French public toilets for that matter). I’m still not sure of the protocol. Do I sit, squat, climb up on top? I’m lucky to be blessed with a large arse, so I just give the bowl a good clean then sit. In case you were interested.

We wandered around town and searched for a place to eat. Eating out in the old part of town turned out to be quite a challenge! We ended up in a small pizza restaurant which was all right, but expensive. Plus the pizza was served with a raw egg cracked on top, which is just not right as far as I’m concerned! Pineapple on pizza yes, raw egg no.

It was a long drive the next morning across to Le Mont St Michel. We were in the business of avoiding toll freeways (most of the freeways in France have tolls. It’s somewhere in the region of €40 to drive between Lille and Paris!), and it was beautiful driving through small villages and enjoying the countryside.

I did let out a little squee when I saw the Mont for the first time in the distance. I must have looked like all those tourists I used to take to Ayers Rock! I would tell them about 100km out that the rock would be coming up soon and that I would buy a beer for the first one to spot it. Then I would just enjoy the neck craning and the oohing and aahing in the mirror as I drove along for the next 40km.

There was lots of “We’re nearly there!” and “This is so exciting,” until we hit the traffic jam. About 6km out. We just knew it was going to be a nasty, nasty jam so as soon as we could, we pulled over at a campground and booked in for the night. From there it was a 30 minute walk across the causeway to the Mont. The camping was well equipped and quite well priced. The owners could have easily charged double the price, but haven’t taken advantage of that opportunity which is wonderful.

We were glad that we decided to park and walk. We could certainly walk faster than cars could drive and we didn’t have to pay. So bear that in mind if you’re planning to visit. Parking at the Mont is €4 and you are still up to a 15 minute walk away. Walking is less stressful and cheaper!

But speaking of stressful, once we were through the gates and into the village on the Mont, it was madness. Mosh pit madness. We found that the best way to the top and to avoid the crowds (a bit) was to take the steep stairs. We didn’t bother with the sloping streets as we would have never made it to the top and I would most definitely have spat the dummy.

Once at the entrance to the abbey we joined yet another queue to get inside only to discover that the French like to queue less than the Dutch, so there was much pushing in and pretending that they were allowed to be there. The big revelation was that when we made it to the head of the queue, we could have bought the tickets online and missed the queues! (you can also do this for Monet’s Garden here).

The Abbey was sensational. It was also insanely busy. It wasn’t until that afternoon that we realised it was also a national holiday in France. Perhaps we would have re-planned our weekend if we had known in advance. obviously I will be checking from now on before we go anywhere!

The tide was also out while we were there, so we could walk around the Mont and dip our feet in the water. It was a fairly warm day, so my feet were in beach heaven. By the time we started walking back to the campground we noticed that the other tide (of the traffic variety) had also changed. Instead of there being a jam coming onto the causeway, now it was going to take hours for cars to get off! So it was with big smug smiles that we sauntered past all the frustrated drivers. As the sun set we walked over towards the Mont to see it all lit up, and it really was spectacular. A must.

We decided to eat out in the small village despite the guide books telling us that everywhere was ordinary. After a stroll around deciding everything was over priced, we settled on La Bergerie. To its credit, the service was very good. But the food was less than appetising and forgettable. I can’t even remember what I chose except my dessert, which was a microwaved chocolate ‘torte’. If the chef was a Masterchef competitor, he would have been eliminated for sure.

Our last two days were spent driving through Normandy, first to Caen, then on to Rouen and then Amiens. Caen was the seat of Williem the Conqueror when he was still just the boring old Duke of Normandy, and Rouen is where he was buried (although only a thigh bone remains of his body). Rouen is also where France’s patron (and possibly the world’s most famous) saint, Joan of Arc was burned at the stake for heresy. All three cities have churches and/or castles on a grand scale, but even I, a seasoned castle fanatic, had had my fill by the end. Although the cathedral at Amiens should have had a great impact, I was done. The weather had changed, it was cold and wet, and I just wanted to get home.

We made the journey home via La Somme. La Somme is probably the best known site and the site of one of the ugliest battles of World War One, with more than 1.2 million casualties. visiting the memorials of La Somme was the greatest highlight (if you could call it that) of the trip. Walking through the Canadian memorial, where you can see the best preserved trenches was heart wrenching. I don’t know what it is about WWI, but just the mention of it affects me deeply. Perhaps the madness of it all. How the Australians (and New Zealanders and Canadians) came to be there when they had no business at all in that war.

One of the Australian memorials at Le Somme

My top tips for visiting Normandy and Mont St Michel

1.    Plan ahead. Think about when you want to go and check to see if your dates correspond with national holidays in France. If they do, think about a different location. The vast majority of French holiday within France, so you won’t find a quiet spot to save your life.

2.    Book online! Check beforehand if any of the national monuments that you’re planning to visit have tickets available online. Queues are horrendous and Frenchies aren’t a fan of waiting their turn. Having a ticket in your hand to skip the queue might just save your sanity.

3.    Camp. French campgrounds are cheap and (usually) have good facilities. You just need to get used to taking your own toilet paper and not having a seat to sit on...

4.    Bypass the toll freeways. The freeways are expensive and the countryside is just stunning. Why pay a fortune to drive on a four lane freeway when you can drive almost alongside it for free, visiting some gorgeous villages along the way.

5.    Pain au Chocolat. I’m glad I don’t live in France to be honest. But having said that, if I did, you’d always know where I was. In the local boulangerie. Shoving croissants and pastries into my face indiscriminately.

6.     Arrive at Le Mont St Michel late in the afternoon. This will help you to avoid the queues (in traffic and on the Mont) and the abbey is open late everyday anyway. Plus when the Mont is lit up at night it is incredibly beautiful. Like a fairytale.

7.    Avoid eating out at Le Mont St Michel. The restaurants are expensive and underwhelming. We had bought a can of sausages and sauerkraut that would have been more appetising that whatever it was that we ate at a restaurant.

8.    Perhaps consider arriving at Monet’s Garden at opening time. By the middle of the day there are just too many people for the experience to be enjoyable.

9.    Don’t miss Le Somme. Although this is not actually in Normandy, if you are travelling down towards Normandy from the north you will need to pass through Le Somme. It is a vital part of history and the million plus people who were killed there deserve that we pay our respects.

10.    Don’t over do the cathedrals. Rouen and Amiens both have spectacular cathedrals, but after the over load of beautiful architecture in the days before, I was a bit meh about them. That’s a big shame as they deserve better!
Have you been to Normandy? Did I miss something that I should have visited? What advice can you offer someone who is planning to visit the region?

Don't mess with me today, it's Tetchy Tuesday!

2011-06-07T18:56:00.001+02:00

Be warned, this is likely going to get a bit ranty.

I cycle to work everyday. It’s about a 15km round trip and it can be quite enjoyable. It will also most likely be the straw that breaks the camel’s back that is my sanity and causes me to flee the country.

I’m a good cyclist. I obey the rules. I’m responsible. I don’t cycle through red lights. I stick to the right side of the path. I signal when I’m turning. I’ve also become very proficient at yelling “KLOOTZAK!” of “IDIOOT!” and I give the finger like never before. I’d also like to be able to carry a piece of poly pipe that I could hit stupid people with, but that might be pushing the limits a bit. As my friend Sanne has just reminded me, we even have special paths for cyclists in the Netherlands to "make traffic easier and safe." Great idea. Some of the time. And don't get me started on the scooter and moped riders. I'll be here all night!

You see, cycling to work each day is something of a trial. I have to contend with cars overtaking me on blind corners, cyclists and drivers who have the strangely Dutch ailment that I like to refer to as Zoolander Syndrome - the inability to look left (I know, it’s actually turn right, but you get the picture), people riding four abreast taking up the entire path and endless people texting or updating their facebook weaving all over the road. I could make an endless list of things that shit me on the way to work, but I’m supposed to be writing a post about my recent trip to France, not carrying on about idiots on the road.

I once managed to write off someone else’s bike when she cycled into me head on because she wasn’t looking where she was going. Did I mention she was dinkying her friend and then had the audacity to give me the “Tja. Sorry hoor,” which really means Screw You? I screamed at her and rode off shaking with rage.

Another day a young guy walked straight out in front of me and I had no where to go except over the handle bars, smashing my face on the curb. This was two weeks before my wedding and I was terrified that I had a broken cheek bone and black eye, but I’m obviously made of tougher stuff and only came away with a badly bruised hip. No apology then either.

So today I liberated myself. I broke the rules and gave a bunch of people a taste of their own medicine. Cycling home from work this evening I was behind a family of about 8 people who were completely oblivious that they were cycling in a busy city and were all over the place. They wouldn’t move over when I rang my bell (which is nearly worn out from over use!) and then coming down off a bridge on a corner I decided to give it to them. There was an old lady coming towards us on her scootmobile and I was too close to wandering group to be able to slow down and let her pass and as they were ignoring my bell I cut them all off. Made the old lady hit her brakes and pushed the wandering fools off the road. When they started yelling at me, I put my inburgering skills into practice and gave them fish face, completely ignoring them and just kept on cycling. By the time I made it home I was grinning from ear to ear.

Now, I know that I was in the wrong, but I get smashed into, cut off and have brushes with death almost every day on the bike (I wish I was exaggerating) and it felt great to return the favour. You know how your mum always says “Treat people how you would expect to be treated?” well today I treated a bunch of people how I AM treated.

What happens to you on the bike? What really annoys you when you’re out and about?

Tell me about your own war stories. I want to compare tales and see if we can outdo each other.

PS. Thanks to @Moshers_Moll for "Tetchy Tuesday." Summed up my day perfectly!

Fancy a quiet holiday....?

2011-06-05T17:45:00.000+02:00

....Then don't, whatever you do, go to France! Especially on a public holiday weekend!

We just walked in the door and now the task falls to me to put together my next Weekendje Weg post, but in the mean time, here's a quick taster of Monet's sensational Garden in Giverny:

Tot Snel!

Weekendje Weg - Madrid

2011-06-01T18:00:00.001+02:00

We're almost at the half way point of the year and so far our new years resolution to get out of the Netherlands at least once a month is on track! We’ve just arrived home from a weekendje weg to Madrid in Spain, and what a weekend! We packed so much in I really needed an extra day off to recover!

As is customary, we flew with EasyJet after booking an insanely cheap sale flight. When we landed at Madrid, we were loaded into those ridiculous airport buses that budget airlines are so fond of and ferried off to the terminal and before we knew it we were on a train and bound for the city.

The public transport in Madrid is absolutely fantastic. Fast, clean, safe, on time and most of all, cheap! We bought a three day ‘tourist’ pass for €13 each. The pass was valid all through the city (except the absolute suburbs) on the metro and the buses. The only way that you might slip up with this pass is by the way the days are counted. In most passes like this your paid amount of days begins when you first activate the card, but in Madrid the days begin at midnight on the first day you use it. So, if you first use the pass at 2pm, you will have wasted the entire day up til then as each day expires at midnight. To get the most out of it, you want to use the pass as early in the day as possible. On the flip side, a single trip is €1.00, so you have to take 13 trips over three days before the tourist pass has paid for itself.

Our first stop was our hotel. We stayed at the Hostal Acupulco just off the Gran Via right in the centre of the city. I found the hotel room to be perfectly adequate, although on the small side. The (small double) bed was pushed against one wall and the bathroom could have used an extra 20 cm in width. But, the room had airconditioning (split system) and shutters that made the room completely black. The bathroom was also fitted with a foot washer, which at first I thought was a bit ridiculous, but after one afternoon of hoofing it around town I was very grateful for!


City emblem at Puerta del Sol.

At the bottom of our street was the main shopping district (although I stayed well away to save my wallet) and within 2 minutes we were on the Puerta del Sol. If you’re thinking that that name sounds familiar, it could be because there have been about 10 000 protestors camped there in recent weeks. These people are protesting the current government and the state of the economy, pushing for change. The unemployment rate in Spain is currently sitting at about 27%, with the youth unemployment at 40%. Reason enough to protest? I would say so! However, it was really difficult to take the protestors seriously in my opinion. There were perfect ‘protestor’ stereotypes as far as the eye could see and all looked like they could do with a good wash.

Protest slogans at Puerta del Sol

Iberian Ham, delicious!

Our first stop was food. The Spanish food was one thing we were both really looking forward to and Madrid really did not disappoint. Lunch on the first day was a bocadillo and although tasty, I was slightly shocked by the cafe. Filthy probably doesn’t really even begin do describe the state of the place. Even a hardened iron guts such as myself was quite horrified. But hey, it’s difficult to get food poisoning from bread and cured ham so I just got on with it. After that first experience I decided just to turn a blind eye to the surroundings and focus on the food.

Once we had stuffed our faces, we went straight to our first museum. Madrid is quite famous for its masterpiece-filled museums, so we wanted to make the absolute most of it. We began with El Museo de arte Thyssen-Bornemisza which is like a tour of the evolution of art. It begins with early 13th century art and progresses through to the 20th century. You can see how art has changed and grown, with a few glorious masterpieces thrown in for good measure. A room filled with Flemish masters and another with impressionists. For want of sounding like an art wanker, it was difficult to choose where to look! Rembrant, Pisarro, Monet, Mondrian, Picasso. Everywhere I turned there was something wonderful to see.

These works of art are such a far cry from my experience with art growing up. I had heard of these artists, but couldn’t tell you who painted what. My first trip to the National Gallery in London and seeing Velasquez’ Venus changed me. Although I still have no clue about art, I love losing myself in a painting and just can’t get enough. The list of masters that I have seen is now far longer than the list I have still to see. Makes me think I must make a list of the paintings I absolutely must see before I die.

From the Thyssen-Bornemisza, we were very eager to go to the Prado. It is one of the most impressive art museums in Europe, filled with masters such as Rubens, El Greco, and Bosch. And of course, Velasquez (name dropping much?). We missed out on Goya and Carvaggio; both either under construction or on loan. My two favourite paintings were by Rubens and Brueghel (working together) with paintings that really made me chuckle.

All right. Before you start to think that this is only about bloody art (and are already dreading the castle raving still to come), let me get onto the city itself.

The Royal Palace

Madrid is gorgeous. Although there are no great monuments, it really doesn’t need an attraction like the Eiffel Tower to make it special. The buildings are beautiful, the churches are on a grand scale and there is music everywhere (although we did keep seeing the same spooky wind flute player at different metro stations everywhere we went). The biggest must-do thing that I found is to visit the Rastro Flea Market. It is only open on Sundays and it is easy to lose yourself for a day. Next time I go back I’ll be taking an empty suitcase and a wad of cash. I could have spent a fortune and we only really went to the Campillo Terrace. We missed antiques, art and furniture. The weather was glorious, the stalls covered in shade and I was in shopping heaven. I picked up a pashmina for €2. Very much the same as a couple I found in Turkey that I was smug about paying 20 lira for....


El Rastro Flea Market

Maarten with The Mahones

Maarten with Mike from the Street Dogs

We also went to a concert. Maarten is a HUGE Street Dogs fan, and they were performing together with one of my fave live bands: the Mahones. Now, Maarten fancies that he knows these people (he’s really just a shameless groupie), so he had managed to wangle us guest list tickets via Katie from the Mahones. Fantastic night. Both bands were great, especially as they’ve been playing different cities every night for more than a month!

Enjoying my wine while keeping dry...

Castle Alert: On Monday we decided to get out of the city and go to Segovia. It’s a Unesco listed city and has the world’s tallest and longest Roman aquaduct and one of the most spectacular cathedrals I have ever seen. We had a truly amazing lunch at a beautiful little restaurant that served the Segovian speciality: suckling pig. Thank goodness we weren’t served a whole piglet as I don’t think I would have coped, but the meat was so tender and juicy, and the crackly was crispy without threatening to break your teeth. I was in pork heaven! Then, just as we finished our lunch the sky opened and it began to absolutely pour with rain. Thunder, lightning, the works. It was reminiscent of Alice Springs storm weather, which I love. Obviously I could see that the rain was coming, so made sure we picked our spot on the terrace accordingly. While everyone else was scattering for cover, Maarten and I were perfectly positioned to finish our wine!

We took a bus to get to Segovia, and I think it may well be the easiest way to do it. For about €10 return, you depart Madrid from the Principe Pio station and the journey takes just over an hour. The scenery is fabulous along the way (once you finally get out of the sprawling Madrid suburbia). There is a fast train from Atocha, but it is more expensive and quite a hike from the Segovia station to the centre of town.

Segovia Cathedral from the Alcazar castle

Segovia Cathedral jutting out of the surrounding houses

Church, Segovia

Suckling pig

Waking up on Tuesday, we had no idea of the drama that was to come as we packed our bags and said our goodbyes to our lovely hotel receptionist. Little did we know, but the planning gods were not our friends and were about to give us a good kicking. We had a spectacular breakfast of churros with chocolate soup (under €5 for the two of us!) and then headed up to the Reina Sofia museum which was the last on our list of must see museums.

Chocolate soup and churros for breakkie anyone?

We had bought a three museum pass, which would give us entry to the Golden Triangle of Madrid museums. Beware! The museums are not all open every day, as we found out when we fronted up to the Reina Sofia on our last day only to find that the museum is closed on Tuesdays! It was our own stupid fault for not paying attention, but there was no reason for us to assume that the museum would be closed. Now we have a ticket that we never used.

Maarten was especially upset as it is the home of Picasso’s most important work, the Guernica, along with works from Dali. As we didn’t make it inside, you should head over to The Weekend Traveller’s post to read all about it. You won’t be disappointed.

So, as our plans were shot for the day, what did we do next? What any self respecting tourist would do. We found a shady spot in the Botanical gardens to play Angry Birds on our phones, of course! We eventually headed to the airport to come home, only to discover at security that Maarten was without his passport. Really, I’m not kidding. It was gone. Stolen? Lost? We had no idea. We only knew that it was in his daypack when we left the hotel and it wasn’t there when we arrived at the airport. Now, if something goes wrong when you’re in a bit of a rush (read: panic), the absolute last place you want to be is in Spain. Spaniards lack a certain sense of urgency that seems to come in handy in these sorts of situations.

What did we do? First stop was airport information to find out if his photo driver’s license would be acceptable ID. They couldn’t tell us anything. They also couldn’t find a number online for the hotel. We did have plenty of time (was the above museum drama a blessing in disguise?), so we decided that Maarten should race back to the hotel to check if it was there while I checked his luggage and tried to find something out from EasyJet. No help there. A note to EasyJet if you’re reading this: Please give your customer service team SOME information on acceptable forms of ID! Lots of shoulders were shrugged and I was sent over to airport police to ask. And, because I was in Spain and I speak zero Spanish, I couldn’t communicate with them at all. Sigh. I checked the bag, but had to go back to the customer service desk to pay. It was there that I found out that they don’t accept cards on the Maestro network (even though I asked and I was told I could use my card), so I was directed to another part of the airport to get cash and come back, pay, then give my receipt to the baggage check guy so he would give me back my boarding pass. Sigh. EasyJet is wonderful, just as long as you don’t stray from the path...

Then through security and to call Maarten to see where he was. But wait, no phone. I had it in my hand not ten minutes earlier. Bloody disaster. Cue sprinting back to security, maybe I had left it in a container there, but nothing. Back through to security to the baggage drop counter and the lovely guy there still had it, bless his cotton socks.

Did I mention that we still didn’t know whether or not Maarten would be able to 1. find his passport at the hotel, 2. board the plane without his passport and 3. make it back to the airport in time? It wasn’t until I was at the gate and the plane was beginning to board that I spoke to someone who responded “Yep. No problem,” (that is a direct quote, by the way!). On the phone to Maarten who was still on the metro coming back to the airport (without his passport), and passengers were beginning to board. At this point my heart was racing and I was what you could describe as being beside myself. Not only was he potentially not going to make it, he’d screwed up my EasyJet ritual!

When he appeared around the corner as the last group was boarding I nearly burst into tears. He made it. And not only did he make it, but we were even able to sit together and weren’t even the last to board! It was such a stressful afternoon we drove straight to the pizza place when we arrived home in Almere. My heart has only just begun to get back to normal a week and a half later!

So what are my tips for visiting Madrid?

Don’t look too closely at the cleanliness of the restaurants. You might never eat again and the food is just too good to miss!
Buy the Tourist Travel Pass. Fast, easy and cheap. It also comes with a map of the city, metro and bus network. You can’t beat it. Airport to Gran Via in 40 minutes? Yes please.
Stay in a Hostal. Hotels are expensive and you can get fantastic accommodation and service from a quite often family owned and run hostal (not backpacker hostel).
Buy the three museum pass. It’s valid for around a year, so if you have a planning brain fart like us you can always go back another time.
Get out of the city and go to a city like Segovia. I also wanted to go to Toledo but didn’t have the time, so now have a second reason to go back aside from the Reina Sofia museum!
Relax. Spaniards take their time and really know how to enjoy life. Don’t try to rush, just go with the flow. I’ll be honest, I think I would fit in better in New York than Madrid. I’m in too much of a hurry and need to be doing half a dozen things at once. But, I made a conscious decision not to let the relaxed pace get to me and I really enjoyed myself.
El Rastro Flea Market. Just go.

All in all, I absolutely loved my trip to Madrid. It is highly underrated as a destination and after having visited some of the biggest and most amazing cities in Europe, it’s definitely at the top of the bunch. If I was given the choice to go to Berlin, Paris or Madrid I’d choose Madrid every time.

What are you still doing here? Go book you tickets!

Stay tuned for my next Weekendje Weg post, I’m off to Bretagne this weekend to visit Mont St Michel, Rouen, Caen and Giverney. Can’t wait to test out my awful French!

Three Years and Counting...

2011-05-27T18:00:00.004+02:00

Yesterday marked my three year anniversary living in the Netherlands. I can't believe how the time has flown by! I didn’t have the time to blog about it yesterday as I was far too busy getting my hair done and then drinking pink bubbles. Not a bad way to celebrate, eh? Now I have a few moments to squeeze out a post before I race off to the Amsterdam Comedy Festival to see some fantastic acts such as Brendon Burns and and our ‘own’ Greg Shapiro, so I’ll be brief.

How does it feel to have reached it to this point? Initially I was only planning to be in the Netherlands for a year, 18 months max. I had plans in Australia. I was moving to Perth and going to tour the west coast. But, somehow life managed to derail my plans. Maarten found a job that he loves and we bought a house and married, so we are locked in for another three and a half years.

Will I make it to 2014? I can’t honestly say. I have good days and bad days living here. If the weather is good I can manage the bad days, but winter is a real struggle (note to self: find a career that means I can spend summer in NL and summer in Aust). I do have very serious problems with the people. I’m endlessly frustrated by the lack of awareness of other people and just today I came to a revelation: Dutch people live like they drive. On the freeway drivers react, they don’t anticipate. So, instead of looking at the driver ahead in the right lane and noticing that they are going to change lanes and compensating, the driver will maintain his or her speed until the other car pushes in then they hit the brakes (braking on the freeway unnecessarily is a pet hate of mine). Walking around town it is exactly the same. People walk around, but don’t assess what’s coming towards them so will maintain their line until they bump into another person. Then, because there is a general refusal to accept that there is anybody else in the world, neither person will acknowledge the other and just keep walking. Or, they will mutter and curse because they were crashed into when they could have easily avoided the incident themselves if they had been more aware. Some Dutch people will argue until they are blue in the face that this is a ‘Ranstad’ problem, but I’ve been to every province and I see no difference.

Ahem. Sorry, that became a bit ranty and that’s not what this post is supposed to be about!

What do I love about living here? Well mostly I love that the Netherlands is almost the centre of the universe. Within an hour (or so) I can be in Germany or Belgium. I live next to one of the most vibrant cities in Europe, I can visit any number of art galleries filled with masterpieces, beer is cheap and I can cycle absolutely everywhere. Not being many hills, this is especially good! I love the food (aside from the icky fish that I talked about here), especially the winter stews and I love that since I’ve lived here I have seen some of the biggest bands on the planet. I’m off to see Neil Diamond in a couple of weeks and they don’t cost the earth. We just bought tickets to the ultimate Nanna Heartthrob André Rieu for less than half price. Living in Alice Springs the extent musical entertainment includes local cover bands, a really bad DJ at Melankas (thank goodness they finally tore that hell hole down!) and the pub juke box.

What’s next for me? I have a couple goals in the pipeline to keep me busy in the next twelve months. As I have been living here as Maarten’s partner for three uninterrupted years, I am now eligible to apply for dual nationality. I just have to find the cash to pay the €700+ fee. I’m also hoping to get my driver’s license. Sadly I’m unable to exchange my Australian license for a Dutch one so I have to sit the theory exam and take endless driving lessons to start over. The bonus is that I can take the test in English and I can find a condensed one day course to do it. I plan to blog (rant?) about both as they happen, so stay tuned!

Take Paracetamol and Come Back in a Week...

2011-05-06T17:30:00.002+02:00

...Is the way the story goes when it comes to primary health care here in the Netherlands. It’s generally accepted that when you go to the doctor he or she will roll his or her eyes, take a certain condescending tone and then send you off with instructions to take paracetamol as there is nothing else that can be done. If you don’t get better in a week or so, you are allowed to make another appointment.

Now, generally speaking, I am a very healthy person. I have been admitted to hospital once, on Christmas Eve when I was five, for a broken elbow. I’d been to sit on Santa’s knee and was given a cup ice cream then thought I should play on the monkey bars. Like any five year old I was covered in ice cream, so I slipped. If you knew me as a child (or even now as an adult), you will know that being quiet is not my strong suit. So the entire town knew that I had hurt myself. My parents had to rush me to the hospital for x-rays and then proceeded to leave me there overnight. by myself. On Christmas Eve. Did I mention that it was Christmas Eve and I was left by myself?

Wow, this was more than twenty five years ago, you’d think I would have let it go by now! Just imagine what my parents had to live with...

But my point is, I’ve never been really sick. Sure, I’ve had colds and the flu and endless bouts of tonsillitis when I was a teenager, but never so sick that I couldn’t get out of bed for months at a time, had to have major surgery, or even had a cool cast for a broken limb (my broken elbow only earned me a sling - ripped off!).

I am, however a very big fan of preventative health care and being pro-active about my own health. Heart disease is rampant in my family and my dad takes blood pressure tablets each day (although I may have something to do with the elevated levels there!). As a consequence I like to be on top of what is going on with my body and have regular health check ups. Well, I did until I came to the Netherlands.

Initially I was very daunted by the system. My lack of Dutch acted as a bit of a barrier. I was ashamed to live here but not able to conduct myself at a high level in Dutch. Plus I had read some of the many complaints and horror stories about health care in the Netherlands by other Expats. You can see what I mean here and here. Not to mention the discussion with friends where we would all just joke about travelling home to our respective countries when the time came for some actual health care. Never minding the extortionate compulsory health insurance premiums we all have to pay living in the Netherlands!

But late last year I had a problem. I had a sore toe. I know, I know I'm a whinger, but it really hurt. Actually, after several days the pain increased to the level where I couldn’t sleep and couldn’t really walk either. So off to the Doctor I limped. You’ll never guess what the treatment was. Yep. Take paracetamol and if it doesn’t improve in a week, come back in. Really. My toe was bright red and twice its normal size and almost visibly throbbing, but paracetamol would do the trick. Oh, and a washing powder bath. I actually laughed in the doctor’s face at that. But, what can you do? You go to see the doctor putting all of your faith in them that they will be able to help. At the very least help with the pain, but I was in with the doctor for no longer than five minutes and then ushered out the door. Now, this was a Friday so of course there’s no option to get health care over the weekend unless you’re in serious problems. On the Saturday I had to go to Rotterdam and couldn’t even put my own shoe on, so had to wear one of Maarten’s. Cue Ronald McDonald impersonations and sad clown faces.

I was back in the Doctor’s office first thing Monday morning (different doctor this time as I refused to see the same one) and it was confirmed: I had an infected toe. No shit Sherlock. From then on I had a completely different experience. Once we agreed that something was wrong treatment proceeded at a lightning speed. I was back that afternoon for a follow up, given antibiotics and painkillers, then I was in again every day until they could slice it open and get rid of the infection. The difference was like night and day. I was immensely happy with the care, and confident that if something happened to me again, I would be taken care of.

Thank Goodness, because this brings me to my next experience. A routine PAP test. I was due for one as it had been three years since my last check. According to Dutch standards I was still two years early, but by Australian guidelines I was already a year late. Plus we’ve been discussing the possibility of having children (well, a child - let’s not get ahead of ourselves!) and I wanted to make sure all the Go Gear was in good working order first and not in need of any serious maintenance.

Oh, how wrong could I have been! The doctor (the good one, not the paracetamol freak) ran the check and told me to call back in two weeks when the results would be in. No worries. Ten days later the phone rings. It’s the doctor. Can I come in for the results. It’s not good news. So, I dropped everything and made a mad dash to the doctor, on the phone wailing to my wonderful mum the entire time (on my mobile. To Australia. Not looking forward to that bill!). Maarten, bless his heart also dropped everything and almost beat me to the doctor, and he had to drive 30km!

We took a deep breath and went in to find out what the results were, and it wasn’t pretty. I had either cancerous or pre-cancerous cells. My result was PAP 4 in the scale from 1 to 5 and the GP had booked me into a gynaecologist the next day! So, there were a lot of worried faces in my family that day. We weren’t sure if I had cancer and my doctor told me I should prepare for the worst possible outcome. As an eternal pessimist, you can imagine what the worst possible outcome was in my mind. And because I have to have contingencies for contingencies, inside my head was not a great place to be. However, the worst case scenario would be a hysterectomy. This was a less than ideal scenario, but far better than the alternative that was flying around inside my head!

The rest of the day passed me by in a haze. I couldn’t tell you what I did or who I spoke to. I was completely consumed with worry. What if I’m sick? What if I’m going to die? What will Maarten do? What about the house? Why me? By the time I arrived at the gynaecologist, I was barely keeping myself together.

The gynaecologist. What a marvel of a man. He was happy to speak to me in English and he might possibly have been The Fonz in a past life. He managed to allay my fears in about two sentences. I kid you not. He said (and I’m paraphrasing here), “This is the problem. It could be cancer, but I seriously doubt it. This is the result I expect and good job for having your regular checkup because it’s nasty and would definitely become cancer years down the line if untreated.”

He also said something that shocked me to the core. This was most likely caused by the Human Papillomavirus, which is what you and I know as warts and the reason behind the creation of a controversial vaccination now given to girls with their MMR shot. There are up to 40 different strands that affect people and of course I wasn’t so lucky as to just get the warts strain. He actually laughed at me when I gasped about having an STI. I was more prepared to be told I had cancer! He rattled off some extraordinary statistics re infection rates. According to him, around 80% of women in the Netherlands carry the virus at one point and using condoms is not a great guarantee against the virus. As a rule 90% of cases are cleared up within two years, but a very small percentage of women can go on to develop pre-cancerous lesions and cervical cancer. Lucky me. I never seem to find myself in the majority, ever! It should also be noted that while cervical cancer rates in the Netherlands is very low (around 500 cases per year), it is the biggest woman killing cancer in developing countries.

Then the time came to address the elephant in the room. The stirrups. Attached to a big screen. This was going to make for entertaining viewing. Up I climbed and then before I knew it, there was my magnified cervix being displayed for all to see. Did I mention Maarten came along for moral support? Poor guy. After a bit of poking and prodding it was time for me to cough while he took the biopsies. It went something like this:
Dr: “Okay, cough.”
Me: “Cough”
Dr: *chunk* goes the biopsy forceps
Me: “Fark! Oh sorry, I said Fuck”
Dr: “That’s okay, fuck’s fine. Cough again?”

After three coughs we had enough tissue and I was allowed to put my knickers back on.

He explained that he expected I would have a CIN grade 3 result, which is defined as severe dysplaysia and that I would at least have to have the LLETZ procedure to remove the cells. Once this is done I will then have follow up PAP tests at six monthly intervals for two years (or for as long as necessary).

I was back in the gynae’s office a week later for my results, and yep, all of the above predictions came true. I have a CIN 3 result and will need the LLETZ. I’ve opted for the procedure under a general anaesthetic rather than a local as there is some cauterisation and it’s something I don’t want imprinted on my memory for all time. This will all happen some time in June.

But, what actually made me sit down and write about this experience was my own GP. Last week, while I was waiting for the biopsy results, she called me out of the blue to see how I was doing, that I should stay positive and to let me know she was thinking of me. Because there is so much ranting and vitriol against the primary health care system in the Netherlands I wanted to stand up and say that I had a good experience and that I couldn’t have been happier with the care and support that I’ve been given by my GP and by my Gynaecologist.

I know it can be frustrating when it seems like your doctor is not taking you seriously and I can’t stress enough, if you’re not happy with the outcome from one doctor, you should insist on seeing somebody else. One doctor may insist that Penicillin is the work of the devil (Dutch doctors are notorious for refusing any form of antibiotic prescription, not just penicillin), but another will understand and see its worth and understand that preaching bed rest and paracetamol is not always the appropriate treatment.

I could have waited for Cervical Awareness Month, but that was way back in January and this is just too important to wait until next year. If you’re due for a screen, please don’t put it off. If you’re embarrassed for your own doctor to do the test this week when you’ll be back in next week with a child and an ear infection, make the appointment with another doctor. Besides, your doctor (or nurse depending on where you live) has done the test so many times in the past and have better things to think about than what your hoo hoo looks like!

Stop making excuses and do it.

I'm a Random Nomad!

2011-05-06T13:45:00.000+02:00

If you haven't seen it already, let me bring a wonderful site to your attention, called The Displaced Nation.

The guys over there have been kind enough to add me as part of their Random Nomad series and I couldn't be more excited about it.

From the site:

The Displaced Nation is a country for those who have traveled for so long and crossed so many cultures that they no longer belong anywhere in particular.

We welcome international travelers of any variety — be they backpackers, globetrotters, expats, rex-pats, repats, or armchair dreamers. The only thing you need have in common with us is 1) a nomadic ability to fit in everywhere and nowhere; and 2) a compulsion to observe life’s rich tapestry on a global scale.

TDN discuss all manners of exciting topics, from deadly dishes around the world to The Royal Wedding to classic displaced writers in a way that is sometimes serious, often tongue in cheek and laugh out loud funny.

Go over and take a look around. You’ll find that before you know it you will have lost a day, and you’ll emerge with a smile on your face.

While you're at it, don't forget to follow The Displaced Nation on Twitter.

You’re putting WHAT on that sandwich?!

2011-04-13T18:00:00.001+02:00

To say that Maarten and I have different food influences would be something of an understatement. Well, actually he’s quite indifferent to food and I can’t stop thinking about it (as is evidenced in my dress size). But we have some ideas as to what we should do when preparing and eating foods that are total polar opposites. Things that are perfectly normal to ourselves, are sometimes repulsive to the other.

I read a fabulous blog every day called Mamamia and today there was a post all about food quirks. This made me think about the cultural food quirks that I’ve noticed about living here. Quirks that if you ask the average Dutch person they will tell you it is perfectly normal and that my idea of normal is bizarre. I watched an entire thread yesterday in a fabulous online ladies group discussing this very idea. Some of these very accomplished women have given up preparing particular foods that they love because for their Dutch inlaws as they are too scared to try something different to what they would normally eat. I’m not too sure how it would go down at home if I decided I wouldn’t eat boerenkool or andijve because who mixes lettuce with mashed potato?!

Some of the funny little differences I’ve noticed are:

Putting tomato sauce on the top of a toasted sandwich. This my friends, is a crime against toasted sandwiches. Tomato sauce does not belong anywhere near a toasted sandwich. Toasties are for fillings like cheese, ham, tomato, chicken, onion, tinned spagetti (this may be an Australian food quirk though), but never tomato sauce.

Pre-packaged baking mixes. Really? It doesn’t take that much longer to bake a cake from scratch. I don’t get why it is so difficult to find quality baking ingredients, but fifteen different varieties of home-made-brownie-just-add-water packages. The level of surprise people have when I mention that something is huisgemaakt never ceases to amaze me. It’s like I’ve just turned water into wine..!

Would you like spit with tha

Febo. I’m not sure if this is actually horrific or genius. It’s like a vending machine for nasty deepfried food. I’ve never actually eaten anything out of the Febo boxes, mostly because I’ve heard stories of people paying to lick an item only to put it back for someone else to enjoy later... I have been known to take friends to a Febo just for a photo op. I’m clearly not the only one who thinks it’s odd...

Haring (pickled herring). Nothing more to add here. Gross.

Haring

Paling (smoked eel). See above.

French fries with mayonnaise. If you ask any Dutch person, they will tell you that it is absolutely mandatory to have mayonnaise with fries. It’s to the point where wherever you order french fries you will either: be asked if you want mayo, or just get it automatically. What? you want tomato sauce?! You can’t have tomato sauce on fries!

La Place. For the uninitiated, La Place is a tray restaurant. You know, where you grab a tray at the start and choose what you want then pay for it. However, the Dutch quirk is that you can also order a steak or pizza, but it’s made to order and you must stand around and wait for it. Loads of fun when it’s right on dinner time and there are ten others ordering steaks at the same time...

Meat balls in soup. All soup. Even vegie soup. That vegetarians would eat. You can even buy mini meatballs called soepballetjes (soup balls) for when you make your own. Although, 100% home made soup is not very common. Not when there is a fabulous range of pre-made soups here to choose from!

Hageslag. To you and me, this is a variation on hundreds and thousands. Or sprinkles. You know, the brightly coloured balls you would have as fairy bread at kids birthday parties. Except here it is in all different flavours (even licorice flavour) and is a staple food item in every pantry. I have colleagues who eat hageslag on bread every day for lunch. The health benefits? About the same as in fairy bread.


Congratulations, it's a Girl!

Speaking of coloured sprinkles, Beschuit met muisjes is another quirky food. As far as The Rules go, when a child is born, the new parent must supply all visitors (and colleagues) with beschuit met muisjes. The beschuit is a dry round crispbread and the muisjes are pink or blue balls (depending on whether you have a boy or girl). The muisjes taste like aniseed and the beschuit is dry and guaranteed to crumble all down your shirt, closely followed by all the muisjes for the energetic new parent to clean up once you leave.

I almost forgot one! Leverworst (liverwurst). Belongs with the haring and paling. Yuck.

Now I’ll put the shoe on the other foot for a moment and talk about foods I eat (and the way I eat them) can be seen as slightly odd (or gag inducing) for Maarten and other Dutchies...

Roast pumpkin. Actually pumpkin in any form other than pumpkin soup. It’s a vegetable that my mum would prepare every day (meat, potatoes, pumpkin and vegies). My inlaws ate roast pumpkin for the very first time when I cooked it. My mum’s special pumpkin cake recipe is a huge hit with the entire Dutch family. Although, they may just be saying that to be polite. Actually, as pretending to like something when you don’t is completely foreign to Dutch people, they must genuinely like the cake! Yay for me!

Vegemite. OK. I’m copping out a bit here. The entire world outside Australia thinks vegemite is disgusting. Back when I was tour guiding, we always had vegemite in out food packages that almost nobody ever ate. I don’t know why they didn’t supply nutella instead. When I was a kid I wasn’t so keen, so used to mix it with honey on my sandwiches (food quirk perhaps?), but now I love it. Not as much as I like Promite however. Which leads me to...

Promite. Similar in principle to vegemite, although this one is so hard core that not even all Australians like it. The flavour is very strong. Kind of like the child of vegemite and marmite on steroids. I think it’s great on toast and as a toasted sandwich together with cheese. Maarten won’t let me kiss him if I’ve been eating Promite. Safe to say it’s something that he finds disgusting...?

Dipping food items other than biscuits (or plain flavoured crisps) into the dip. This one might just be a Maarten and Nerissa thing, but I can’t be sure. I almost made Maarten puke when I dipped my chorizo into the dip once. I was told I have to stop, or he would puke. He even gets upset if I dip flavoured crisps.

There are all sorts of native Australian foods that the majority of the Australian population finds a bit disgusting, let alone the rest of the world. Witchetty Grubs for one. Fat white catterpillars that live in the ground that can be eaten raw or cooked. Smells like fried eggs and tastes like peanut butter. Apparently. You won’t get me near the little suckers.

Peanut butter flavoured animals? Yes please!

So what Dutch food quirks have you noticed? What are things that you eat that the regular Dutchie might find horrifying?

Weekendje Weg - Prague

2011-04-01T12:11:00.001+02:00

Last weekend we had the great pleasure of a short holiday to Prague. I had no idea what to expect, so everything was a wonderful surprise!

I’m actually supposed to be staying home on occasion so I can take the time to change my name on my passport to Muijs, but as we’re always off on some trip or another, I haven’t yet had the chance. If I do it within the first year of getting married, the process is free. After that, not free. So I need to get my backside into gear and stop booking flights! At this stage I can’t change the name until at least June, and we’re also planning a trip to Germany/Luxembourg then, so I might not even make that!

But anyway.

Back to Prague. As usual, we booked a cheap flight with EasyJet. I can’t stress how fantastic the airline is. I know many people moan about their experiences, but I have honestly never had a bad one that wasn’t my own fault. Presuming that 35kg of luggage would be let through for free was very naive. It was also a pretty picture dumping all my worldly possessions out onto the ground in the check in hall to decide what could be offloaded and what was absolutely vital. I even contemplated flying my friend over to Amsterdam with me as the ticket price for her was going to be cheaper than the excess baggage! I have my perfect ritual which involves getting to the airport early enough to be through immigration and at the front of the boarding queue so I can get on the plane early. I’m terrified of being last and then having to sit in the middle seat. I’ve read so many nasty articles about fat people hogging their neighbour’s seat space that I just want to make sure I’m not “one of those space hoggers.” Irrational much? Oh, and if I’m travelling with Maarten he sits at the window and I take the aisle leaving a space between us. Worked every time so far.

To be a bit fancy, I had booked a limousine via the hotel service as we were landing at night and the public transport link includes a bus and a tram/metro, so thought it would be much easier. But we landed about 40 minutes early, so there was no car waiting for us. We stood around for ages wondering if it was all a bit fat cock-up, but our driver finally arrived. Not wearing a limo driver outfit. When we went outside to our “limo”, it was a dodgy looking old Volkswagen Passat! Bloody limo indeed. It was with fairly serious reservations that we climbed in the car. The driver had no English (and fair enough too), so he could have been driving us to our death for all we knew! Our worries were all in vain, however. We were dropped at our lovely Elephant Design Hotel in plenty of time and the trip cost us about €25 in total.


These BBQs were everywhere. Smelled awesome!

The hotel itself was beautiful. At only €49 per night for the two of us including breakfast, I think it was a price that couldn’t be beaten! There was also a nice bathroom with a lovely deep bath and all the trimmings you’d expect from a nice hotel. It was paradise compared to the hostel that our friends were staying at, that’s for sure! At €16 per person per night, the heater was built into the wall and they could stick their hand through into their neighbour’s room! Very classy. As the tariff also included breakfast each morning it really made for a big saving, not having to eat out for three meals per day. We made sure we always had a big breakfast and a late, small lunch so we could appreciate the incredibly filling Czech food in the evenings.

We (Maarten especially) are very keen to always try the local food as much as possible, and Prague certainly didn’t disappoint. The first night we had a feast at a small absolutely empty restaurant. I was a bit uncomfortable about going to a restaurant with no people in it, but the food was good so I’m unsure why it was empty!


Lunch of potatoes, potatoes and more potatoes!

For lunch the next day we stopped by a potato stall at a market. I kid you not, this stall had cooked potatoes no less than 6 ways. We opted for potatoes with sauerkraut and sausage. It was delicious! But in all honesty, I could have had one of each dish, they all looked so yummy. Maarten wolfed his down and was eyeing mine off like he was going to mug me for it at any moment!

If I can give you one tip and one tip only for Prague, it is to wear the best walking shoes you can find. In Berlin I made the perilous mistake of wearing a combination of knee/high flat boots and my Converse AllStars. As you can imagine I wanted to cut my feet off at the end of each day. Actually, I wanted to cut my feet off by lunchtime. So, this time round I opted for a pair of comfy trainers. Good idea, right? WRONG! Trainers are not designed for walking long distances, and in Prague you walk looong distances. I’m still kicking myself with my half mangled feet for not just wearing my hikers. I don’t remember these problems from other trips, but if I think of it almost all my other trips have been in good weather or I’ve worn my hikers. In the summer Birkenstocks are indispensable. Say what you will about their attractiveness, but they are the most comfortable shoes in the entire universe.


Charles IV Bridg

Where did we walk? Well, from our hotel we walked to the Republican Square and then on to the Main Square, which is where the main attraction - the Astronomical Clock is located. We weren’t in time for the ‘show’ on the first day so we kept walking on to the Charles Bridge, which is probably one of the most famous bridges in Europe. It’s named for Charles IV and was finished in the 15th century. At one time it was the most important link between eastern ad western Europe. A fun fact that Wikipedia told me is that INXS filmed their video for their best song (in my opinion) Never Tear Us Apart in Prague and on the Charles Bridge especially, which I never realised! The bridge itself is crazy busy, with literally thousands of people crossing in one direction or another. The edges are lined with hawkers selling photos, portrait sketches and kitcsh souvenirs, but strangely none of them are too in your face. They’re all quietly going about their business, so crossing the bridge wasn’t the confronting experience it could have been.

Old Castle Steps

Finally, once across the bridge we made our way up to the castle. And up it was. We started up the steep streets, and then made a quick turn to see if we could avoid the masses and were then faced with about a hundred miles of stairs (also in the film clip!) which are known as the Old Castle Stairs. Now, after living in Edinburgh I’m used to stairs to get from one part of the city to the other, but these stairs put anything Edinburgh has to offer to shame! I didn’t take the time to count how many there were, but surprisingly I didn’t want to die by the time I reached the top. I’d recommend taking the stairs to the castle rather than the long steeply sloped street. You avoid a lot of tourist shops this way too!

When we finally made it to the top of the mountain (that might be a small exaggeration) the view of the entire city was staggering. At least, it would have been if the sky wasn’t so hazy. It looked as though Prague hasn’t seen any rain in a long time. I don’t think the haze was all smog, it seemed more like it was a bit dusty. All the cars were covered in dirt and it was very dry. But still, the view was amazing. You could see what seemed like the entire city from the castle walls. So after some jostling to get a good photo, we decided to go inside.

What a shock! The castle itself isn’t really a traditional castle, more a sprawling collection of beautiful buildings. Did I mention that the castle and the bridge, along with a large portion of the old town are all UNESCO listed?

Inside the castle itself the amount of people was staggering. I think you’d have a quieter time going to Disneyland! The best part is, most of the castle is free to walk around. You need to buy tickets to go into many of the buildings, so we bought Short tickets which included the Cathedral of St. Vitus, Old Royal Palace, St. George's Basilica, and the Rosenberg Palace. The queues to get in each building were huge but moved quickly and the cathedral was a sight to behold, which in its current form dates from the mid 14th century and is the single most commanding presence on the Prague skyline. It is easily as impressive as the Notre Dame in Paris and I would venture as far as to say that it is more beautiful inside.

Cathedral of St. Vitus

Once we left the castle we walked back over the bridge and then on through the Jewish quarter with the intention of visiting the cemetery, which is one of the must-see sights in Prague with all the headstones piled on top of one another like a scene from a Tim Burton movie. But, when we stood at the front gate we found that we couldn’t just visit the cemetery, but had to buy a reasonably expensive ticket to enter the Spanish Synagogue as well. I have to have a moment of honesty here, I’m not really interested in Jewish history. I’m very interested in the holocaust, but I’m just not that interested in any other part of the religion. In the same way that my Fabulous Aunts aren’t all that interested in castles. So, we decided that the cost was more than we were prepared to pay and kept on walking. And walking. When we finally made it back to the hotel in the late afternoon we’d walked the soles off our shoes and were absolutely exhausted. Cue nap time. I think we passed out actually. We managed to stagger out later for some food and a couple of amazing beers. Who would have thought that Budweiser actually tasted good?

Astronomical Clock

After wolfing our breakfast down the next morning we headed off to be in the Old Town Square in time for the show at the Astronomical Clock. Fun facts about the Astronomical Clocks are that at being about 600 years old it’s the oldest working clock of its kind, although the apostles were added only about 150 years ago. Presumably the crowds on the hour weren’t big enough prior to that and they needed to give the clock a bit more of a tourist pull. All joking aside, the clock is wonderful however the pushing and shoving to see the apostles on the hour is ridiculous. I gained far more enjoyment from looking at the clock without the show.

The crowd on the hour for the Astronomical Clock

After the show, we walked along the Wenceslas Square and on to another, lesser known Vyšehrad Castle (well, fortress) via the Dancing House. It felt like a thousand miles to walk down there, but when we finally made it Vyšehrad Castle was a major highlight for me. It’s said that this fortress, dating from the 10th century is the site of the first settlement in Prague. It’s the home of the city’s oldest building, Saint Martin’s Rotunda and probably the most interesting view of the city and the Vltava river that we experienced. We could walk around the entire fortress wall, and I just loved it.

Dancing House

Looking at our watches, this adventure had taken most of the day, so we decided to go back to the hotel via the tram. Public transport in Prague is ridiculously cheap. We bought a 24hr ticket (so we could take the tram to the airport the next day) for about 100kr per person, which is a little less than €5. Ridiculously cheap. Feeling ripped off at home? I know I am. Glad I’m not reliant on public transport all the time!

Moravian Sparrow

On the last evening we went for dinner at a lovely Czech restaurant called Kolkovna. It’s a chain style restaurant, and there are few of them around Prague. I took the opportunity to try the ultimate Czech dish, Moravian Sparrow. Sounds interesting I hear you think. Sparrow for dinner? Well, Czech dishes all have names that don’t tend to resemble what you’re getting in the slightest. For example, my Moravian Sparrow was actually roast pork with red and white cabbage, along wih potato dumplings and gravy. The food was absolutely delicious, and the epitome of what you would categorise as comfort food. Oh, and it goes without saying that the beer was fantastic. Another Pilsner Urquell if you please, for the price of a pack of chewing gum in Holland. Eating and drinking was so cheap it couldn’t really be true. A two course meal at a reasonably expensive restaurant (by expensive I mean touristy) like Kolkovna was about €25 including a massive beer each. I’m glad I don’t live in Prague, purely because the food was so tasty and calorific that I would be housebound or hospitalised within months!

Once you’re done gorging yourself on pork, potato dumplings and a litre of beer, it’s essential that you get out and walk along the Vltava river in the dark. The city is spectacular when the sun goes down. The view of the castle is inspiring, and the Charles Bridge is just a little less crowded.

All in all, in our three day visit to Prague, we spent around €225 (plus €150 for accommodation and €95 for flights). All in all, the trip cost under €500 and we had a fabulous time. Would I go back? Book me a flight, baby!

Before and After - an Expat Meme

2011-03-08T18:00:00.001+01:00

I recently joined the Insego expat group online, and am only just beginning to pay attention and become a little bit active. I mostly use the site as a wonderful resource as there are many excellent and relevant posts from others in my exact same situation. It’s great to know that I’m not alone!
One such post via Insego is from a fantastic blog A Touch of Dutch, that I thoroughly recommend you read. Isabella has created a series of questions a couple of years ago now related to impressions of the Netherlands before and after becoming an expat in the Netherlands (or wherever you may be or if you have ever been an expat). Please feel free to copy and paste this and share on your own blog, and it would be wonderful if you would share in the comments here (and I’ve linked this to the original blog).

Before:

Before you knew you'd be coming to the Netherlands, for whatever reason you originally came to the Netherlands, truthfully how much did you know about the country?

Not a great deal, I must be honest. I knew how to say “Proost” from my tour guide days, but I knew nothing of the culture (aside from the prostitution and drug laws) and when I was very young I honestly thought that the dykes were huge concrete walls. I knew it was very flat, and the home of windmills. My mum collects Delft Blue ceramics, so that’s one thing I knew a bit about.

Did you learn about the Netherlands in school when you were growing up?

Not that I remember. We did learn about different countries obviously, but nothing stands out. I learned that it was Abel Tasman who first discovered Tasmania and went on to discover New Zealand. We learned more about Australia, and I always knew a lot about British and American history (British because I’m fascinated by it and American because we can’t help but learn about it through popular culture). I knew more about the VOC than anything else from reading Wilbur Smith books based on the Seven Years War!

Do you have family who is Dutch or Dutch heritage?

Not directly. My mother’s first cousin married a Dutch man (at least his parents were Dutch), but I couldn’t tell you where in the Netherlands they came from.

Were you aware the language the Dutch spoke was Dutch and not German or any other language?

Yes.

Had you ever lived outside of your home country for longer than one month prior to living in the Netherlands?

Yes. After I finished school I spent time in Malaysia on a student exchange program. It really gave me the bug and all I wanted to do once I came home was travel. In 2003 I spent 7 months working in New Zealand, and then in 2006 I went to England for about 12 months, then on to Scotland for another year, and then moved to the Netherlands. Initially I had only intended to be away for 12 months as I had big plans to go back to tour guiding on the west coast of Australia. Still haven’t made it...

Had you learned to speak any other language than your own, even if only partially so, before coming to the Netherlands?

I studied French at school, but can’t remember much. I learned quite a bit of Malay while I was living in Malaysia. And then because it is quite a similar language to Malay, I came home and studied Indonesian at university. My skills are rusty at best and non-existent at worst though these days!

When you learned you'd be coming to the Netherlands, did you feel it was important to learn Dutch?

I know the answer you want to hear is yes! Absolutely! The single most important thing ever! But actually that wasn’t the case at all. I never had a concrete plan to live in the Netherlands long term (still don’t), so only really intended to learn enough to get by (shopping, eating out etc). Due to the nature of my visa I was called up for the compulsory integration (Inburgering Cursus), and although it was tedious to begin with and I was resentful of being forced into it, I’m glad I did the course. I can now confidently go about my daily life without having to hide behind my lack of language skills.

Did anyone prepare you with information of any type before you came to live in the Netherlands, did you attempt to find information on your own, or did you come to the Netherlands without preparing?

Let’s just say that before I came here I could probably have sprouted the contents of the IND website on command. I knew everything possible about the visa process. I picked up the “Laura Speaks Dutch” podcast from iTunes (highly recommended for a bit of pre-arrival study), and I came back and forth for several visits so I was somewhat prepared.

How did your friends and family react when they learned you'd be moving to the Netherlands?

They were very supportive. I’m sure my parents were thinking that I would never come home, and if they were upset with my decision they never held it against me. Most friends were very supportive as well, but a couple were a bit miffed that I was extending my time abroad even further.

What did you think would be your biggest challenge living in a foreign country? Or did you feel you would face any big challenges?

I didn’t think I would have any problems adapting to the culture, as it wasn't the first time I'd moved to a new country, and I wasn’t too scared about the language issue as I wasn’t planning to stay forever. Strangely enough, the biggest challenge I thought I would face was that the cars are on the other side of the road! I never thought I would be able to get my head around it, but now it’s quite normal for me. And I have loads of problems adapting to the culture...

And after:

Upon arriving, can you remember the overall impression you had in the first 48 hours?

I couldn’t believe I had done it! I was so happy to be with my boyfriend. I didn’t have much time to reflect though, because we were off to a festival within a couple of days of my arrival! I do remember the stress of the drama from the IND and at that point I had nowhere to turn to get information. This is before I discovered sites like Insego and Expatica!

Tell me about your bicycle, if you have one. Is it borrowed/rented or do you own it? And how often do you use it weekly?

I use by bike everyday to cycle to and from work. It’s about 8km each way and I only take the bus when the weather is just absolutely appalling (windy and raining or very icy). I’ve had more flat tyres than I care to remember – there is a wonderful habit here of dropping glass bottles on the ground. I’m so pleased to have a bike to ride. It’s lovely getting out and about and we sometimes just go for a bike ride at the weekend.

Name three of your favourite things about the Dutch culture which first come to mind:

Food - I know that many people complain about the boring food here in the Netherlands, but I really enjoy a plate of boerenkool and rookworst. Carnaval – It’s fantastic to see people who might otherwise be a bit uptight during the rest of the year letting loose and getting dressed up to celebrate. Art – the Netherlands has such a rich art culture, and works of the old masters are easily accessible, which I love.

Of the things you never knew before coming here, what have you learned about the Netherlands?

The Dutch people are a lot different at home to when they are abroad. And the traffic is horrendous!

Culture shock. Does this ring a bell? [Not sure what culture shock is? Click here to learn more.] Oh absolutely. Using the link as a guide, I think I swing between the Adjustment Phase and then will regress to the Negotiation Phase at times. I would like to think I’ll make it to the Mastery Phase, but I don’t know if I ever will. Some of the cultural differences just make me so angry that I don’t see myself coming to terms with them, but one can hope!

How far have you come with learning Dutch?

I’ve come a long way with learning Dutch. In the last twelve months I have gone from pigeon Dutch to being able to attend appointments and go out for dinner with friends and participate in the general conversation without spending long periods staring at my hands. I still do doctor’s appointments and hair appointments in English, mostly because my vocab hasn’t extended that far yet. I have a wonderful hairdresser that I trust immensely, so I think I might start talking to her in Dutch next time I go to see her.

What was/is your overall impression of the inburgering [integration] program?

It’s a bureaucratic nightmare. There is minimal information available to people like myself who have little or no language skills to start with, and it’s not until I started the course that I could find info, or even know what to look for. There’s no indication when you arrive that the nature of the visa will mean taking the courses – I only found out about it through the Expatica website! Hence the birth of this blog.

Has your view on politics or world issues changed from how you previously viewed things before living in the Netherlands?

The rise of Geert Wilders has probably pushed me further to the left than I would normally have been politically, but I don’t think my views of the world have changed since moving here.

Coffeeshops and smartshops. What is your opinion?

Take it or leave it. Not interested. Actually, I would be happy if coffeeshops were abolished.

Since living here, have you learned anything new about yourself? Or perhaps have you learned anything else new? A new hobby or a new way of life?

I’ve learnt that my tolerance levels know no bounds. I also work in IT now, a profession that I never ever considered myself suitable for. Actually, I quite enjoy it. I don’t have to talk to customers all day, which makes me very, very happy.

Vastelaovend.... Wat an avond!

2011-03-07T20:47:00.000+01:00

While Sydney was suiting up (or stripping off?) for Mardi Gras, we were partying in Maastricht at Carnaval, or Vastelaovend as it's known as down there. We stayed with a couple of friends and we had an absolutely cracking time.

Maarten had bought us cow suit costumes from Maartkplats.nl (Dutch version of Ebay), and we were so chuffed with them. Last year we went to Carnaval in Eindhoven and I just didn't really get the concept as it was my first time, so our costumes were absolute arse. Maarten looked like the killer from any random slasher movie, and I just looked rubbish. So, this year we wanted to at least have a good crack at a costume, and this was the end result:

We went into town on Saturday night for a bit of pre-Carnaval action (as it doesn't officially start until Sunday in Maastricht) and had an amazing time. The atmosphere was sensational. Everyone was dressed up in their awesome costumes. One of my faves was a group of KLM flight attendants and a couple of guy's wearing Snuggies with "Snug Me" on the front - awesome!

I had previously been a bit concerned at the trials of finding a toilet as this is one thing that is really not done well at large events in the Netherlands - female toilets practically don't exist! At New Year's Eve a 2008/9 we were at the Dam Square in Amsterdam, and I kid you not, there was not one single toilet for women. Not one. Only men's urinals. My friend Jess and I ended up going in a dark corner at the garden of the poshest hotel in town! Rightly so I was a more than a little concerned that I wouldn't be able to get to a toilet, so Maarten got hold of a couple of TravelJohns just in case (the wonders of having a husband in Procurement!). Luckily I didn't need to use one, because getting out of that cow costume was not fun:

I could fight my way through the crowds to use the loos inside pubs thank goodness. I'd stupidly forgotten to bring coins though, because you have to pay to go (that is one of the most bizarre things about this country I think and a whole other rant-y post for the future). Trying to get to a toilet was also a bit of a mission because it was nothing to end up in the middle of a Polonaise Hollandaise (that's a Congo Line to you and me) on the way!

We tottered home at around 3 am to get a bit of sleep before getting up to do it all again, this time for the REAL Vastelaovend! In Maastricht the parade isn't so regimented as in other places, meaning anyone can join. If I wanted I could have walked to the back of the line and danced along with them. We only saw a few really elaborate floats. I'm not sure if we missed a lot, or if there just weren't that many to be honest as we weren't late for the parade.

Even Vikings had prams!

We left at the end of the parade to drive home. We had initially thought to stay until Monday, but after the Saturday night, we knew we wouldn't be able to hack the pace. Plus, it's a bloody long way to drive even without a hangover!

It was a wonderful weekend, and I'm already planning my costume for next year. I'm thinking we'll have to try another city so we can try to experience the diversity - it's not the same everywhere. Cologne, perhaps? Obviously I only want to go to Germany for the sausage and schnitzel!

For a great overview and a list of do's and don'ts for Carnaval, head over to my new Twitter friend @windmilltales post on Tales from the Windmill Fields for everything you need to know for next year!

Weekendje Weg - Berlin

2011-03-04T17:30:00.001+01:00

Ah, Germany. How I love thee. Before I packed up and relocated to Europe, I swore black and blue that I would never go to Germany. Why not? you ask. Well, in my past life I worked as a tour guide based in Alice Springs (taking trips mostly between Uluru, Kings Canyon, the Flinders Ranges and Adelaide). It was a job I absolutely loved. I was fortunate enough to visit some of the most beautiful and ancient places in Australia once or twice a week, for which I am eternally grateful. I also met hundreds of fantastic people; some of whom I still keep in contact with, and one of which I actually married!

Gorgeous, hey?

Did I mention before that Maarten was a passenger on one of my tours? Yep, he saw me at my absolute best - in my very feminine uniform of brown shorts, green shirt and hiking boots. Covered in red dirt and a mouth like a rude version of Steve Irwin. Cooking damper in a camp oven and rambling about rocks. And he still managed to crawl into my swag on the last night of the trip expecting a bit of romance. Obviously I should have realised then that he was the perfect man for me because the person I was in that place was exactly who I am. With no pretenses, no makeup, it was me pure and simple. I kind of miss that Nerissa. Haven't seen her for a while.

But I'm wandering off track a bit here (I never seem to keep the one train of thought for very long). Not only did I meet some wonderful people, I also met some shockers. Among those shockers were English gap-year girls (horrible high maintenance daddy's girls looking for power points for their GHDs everywhere) and Germans. We all know that Germans have a horrible reputation abroad as terribly behaved tourists. And they didn't disappoint. My worst passenger ever was a middle-aged German man who ruined an entire tour, made the group hate me and nearly made me quit the job. One particular comment that has stayed with me was "When are we eating" (as a demand, not a question. Nevermind that I'd just driven 700+km and taken them on a 6km hike). But in hindsight, the Germans were never problem passengers aside from their general attitude, and of course it wasn't everybody - I met some wonderful Germans on tour, even got tattooed with one. The were never late, and never whined (hello gap-year girls, I'm looking at you).

So, I'd sworn off Germany because I wasn't fond of the tourists I'd encountered. Sweeping judgements abound. However, I have seen the light, and am now a borderline evangelist for Germany. Love it. Love how it's such a beautiful country, love how everyone obeys the rules (we were told off for crossing the street on a red man), but most of all I love love LOVE the food! I'm glad I don't live there because I would eat everything. There's always a dilemma when I go to Germany - do I have the bratwurst or do I have the schnitzel. When really in my head I'm wondering if I can have the schnitzel with a side of bratwurst. And the bakeries! Real buns and pastries, which is something that is very disappointing here in Holland. No good bakeries.

In February we went to Berlin for a long weekend. Everybody I know who has been absolutely loves Berlin, so I was very excited to go. We had an amazing deal with EasyJet - we booked return flights for €85 for the two of us, and stayed in the EasyHotel for €75 for three nights. The accommodation was fantastic - brand new, clean and cheaper than a hostel!

After a delay at Schipol we arrived at Berlin and caught the train into the city. We took an S-bahn train, but I would recommend taking an RER - two and a half times as fast as the S-bahn and also lovely and quiet and clean. The NS here in Holland can certainly use a few pointers from their German counterparts, that's for sure.

The Clock @ Alexander Platz

We bought a Berlin Welcome Card valid for three days, and that gave us unlimited public transport access in Berlin and Potsam. Let me tell you, you really need the public transport in Berlin. Unlike Amsterdam, it's just too massive to walk around and see all the sights! Just be prepared to climb a lot of stairs. And I mean a LOT. Between the U-Bahn and the S-Bahn is what feels like about 4 stories, so it's a great workout. Not so much fun with a belly full of schnitzel and sausage though...

We travelled all over the city. On the first day we went to the Holocaust Memorial near the Brandenburg Tor. What an eye-opener that was. I couldn't read all of the stories, it was just too traumatic. One room is devoted entirely to reading the names and a brief history of each known victim. It was very confronting and brought home the devastation of 6 million murdered Jews. Remembering and acknowledging past horrors is something that the Germans do very well. I appreciate the way that the country does not shy away from its atrocities in the way that other countries do. The German people are willing to stand up and recognise their past and use that to remind themselves and the world what can happen if we allow it.

Holocaust Memorial

On the first day when we were walking around (we walked from the Central station to the Brandenburg Tor to Potsdam Platz) I kept wondering about the wall. Which side was I standing on, what did it look like, what it must have been like knowing that there was a different world right on the other side.... There is a whole restored portion near the Oostbahnhof that is covered in art. It's awe-inspiring and worth it to walk the entire length.

Checkpoint Charlie

Of course we also went to see Checkpoint Charlie. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was a bit surreal to read the signs and see that just over there was a completely different country! There is a museum right by the checkpoint filled with tales of daring escapes from the East. One of my fabulous aunts told me that her sweetheart was posted in Berlin on the wall at Checkpoint Charlie, which I really didn't know. He's one of these guys who keeps his cards quite close to his chest and you can know him for years and then have a good think about it and realise you hardly know him at all. He's a highly decorated Vietnam Veteran and was the first Australian to be posted to West Germany since WWII. Just between you and me, he's my real-life hero. A few years ago I went to Gallipoli for the Anzac Day memorial service and he was kind enough to let me take some of his badges (not the medals of course), so I took him along with me in spirit. I was so honoured.

But back to Berlin. One of the biggest highlights was going to the zoo. Apparently it is the largest zoo in Europe, and it was just fantastic! All of the outdoor enclosures are built around the animal's indoor houses, and you can go inside and see the animals up close! I was thisclose to a lion and a rhino! And we saw Knut the Polar Bear. If you haven't heard of Knut, you have obviously been living in a (bear?) cave. He is a polar bear that was rejected by his mother, so was raised by one of the zoo keepers. He might actually be more famous than my twitter friend @mistershuffles (a baby elephant who zookeepers thought was dead when he was born at Taronga Zoo)!

Knut!

On our last day we took the train out to Potsdam. Maarten had heard that there were lots of castles (Castle Alert!), so thought I might enjoy it. As it turns out the city is FILLED with castles! There were a couple of homes of Frederick II of Prussia, who was one of the coolest emperors in history in my opinion. Not only did he win the land version of the Seven Years War, he introduced the potato to Europe (he was sneaky enough to encourage his subjects to 'steal' the potatoes from his private garden) and he was such a strong commander that he is regarded as one of the best in history, up there with Napoleon and Charlemagne. I absolutely loved seeing Potsdam. I could go on and on all day about the castles and palaces, but I probably lost you at Castle Alert...

See?! Damned
Television Tower

I really thought Berlin was an incredible city. It was so easy to get around, and there were endless places to eat if you're on a shoestring like we always are. The monuments are huge in scale, but beware: you can't take a photo of anything without the bloody television tower in the background!

I think the biggest highlight was the zoo. I loved that you could get so close to the animals and they all look so happy to be there, unlike Artis where you can just see that the elephants are very unhappy. It's not a visually stunning city like Paris or Brussels, but there is so much going on that you it is impossible to run out of things to do and see. Just don't forget to take your appetite with you, you're going to need it!

Weekendje Weg - Ghent and Antwerpen

2011-03-02T21:39:00.000+01:00

In our house we have adopted a new year's resolution that we plan to stick to. Well, it's Maarten's resolution, and he's the boss so that means it's mine too...

This year the idea is to go out of the country at least once per month. So far we've stuck to the plan and have trips away booked up until April. The rules are that abroad is abroad. So Belgium counts!

Our first trip was in January, and we went to Ghent/Gent/Gand. I love Belgium. I think it's beautiful and diverse. Once you get over the trauma that is the six or so merging lanes of the Antwerpen ring road and completely bonkers Belgian drivers, it's a wonderful place to be. I also love how all the cities have different names in Dutch and French. Brussel becomes Bruxelles, Brugge becomes Bruges. My favourite though is Bastenaken becoming Bastogne. Bastenaken is one of those words that I repeat over and over in my head just because I like the way they sound. There's a very famous cycling race called the Luik-Bastenaken-Luik and I like repeating that in my head over and over even more than just plain old Bastenaken...

Anyway, where was I..? Right. Ghent. We went in January for the weekend. Now, we're not ones to put our hands very deep into our pockets to pay for accommodation, so we booked a Formule 1 hotel on the outskirts of town. I wouldn't really recommend it to be honest. Sometimes the accommodation can be reasonable, but this time I really wasn't feeling it. I think it was the long term home of a bunch of single men who hung out in the foyer all day, so if you're looking for something quiet and welcoming, this isn't your place.

Ghent itself however; what a visual treat. Way back in the middle ages Ghent was the largest city in Europe outside Paris and it shows in the skyline. The city's famous for its three tours in a row: The Belfry, and the Saint Bavo Cathedral and Saint Nicholas' Church are just stunning, not to mention the Gravensteen castle dating from the late 12th century smack in the middle of town. It was also the birthplace of John of Gaunt (Ghent), Duke of Lancaster who was the father of Henry IV and from whom the British royal family is descended from through the ages.

Three Tors

When we were in Ghent, it was absolutely freezing (being January), but it was still very pleasant. The cold had likely made the city much more quiet, which for someone like me, that equals bliss. Must see locations are the Saint Bavo Cathedral and the Saint Nicholas Church, but wandering around the city is just gorgeous. The architecture is medieval and being from Australia, anything older than a soldier settler's pre-fab house makes my head swivel like it's on a stick trying to take it all in. Mouth hanging open is obviously compulsory.

We ate at a lovely restaurant on the Korenmarkt, next to the St Nicholas Church. There were so many choices that we became sick of wandering around looking for something and we very nearly just went to an Irish pub because it was easiest. I think everyone else had the same idea, however because we couldn't get a seat!

The following morning we decided that we might check Antwerpen out. I've been around Antwerpen on my way to other places countless times (oh, the dreaded ring road), but had never been into the city centre. Actually, there was that one time but it was a car-free Sunday so we decided to keep on driving and ended up in Bruges!

Cathedral

Antwerpen was amazing! Being a Sunday, nothing much was open which is par for the course across a lot of Europe. However, that just adds to the appeal for me. We could wander around the city without all the crazy shoppers and saw some absolutely stunning buildings. The Cathedral of Our Lady was incredible. But, there was an entrance fee so we decided not to go in on principle. I'm always prepared to offer a donation when I visit a church/cathedral, but being slugged a €6 entry fee just gets up my nose (hence why I have never seen the inside of St. Paul's in London either). However, there are three works from Rubens, so it possibly would have been worth the fee. But, the bloody Louvre is only €10 by comparison! I know. I'm a philistine. Anyway. The train station was also amazing. The stairs inside are reminiscent of that unforgettable shootout pram scene in The Untouchables. It was another city where everywhere you looked there was something beautiful to see. Idols of the Virgin Mary on corners of buildings, Gothic and Art Nouveau architecture, endless gabled buildings... Just loved it.

I really can't wait to go back to Antwerpen. We've agreed that we'll go back in the summer (to fight the crowds) for another look around. It looks like it will be a wondrous summer city. I might even cough up to enter the cathedral...

Grote Markt with the cathedral in the background

Je Komt what???!!

2011-02-28T16:30:00.001+01:00

I know it's been discussed ad nauseum on many other expat blogs, but I'm going to rehash it again for my own pleasure: Embarrassing language mistakes.

Now, I make a lot of mistakes. I can barely sting a sentence together in Dutch at times. But I give it a go, and that's the main thing, right? People don't speak back to me in English, they don't look at me as if I'm foreign, and they don't make fun of my accent (thank goodness, but apparently I sound like Princess Maxima - not a bad comparison if I do say so myself). My most memorable embarassing language mistake was earlier this year. Let me set the scene for you:

New year's day. Full inlaw brigade, including the grandies over for oliebollen and boerenkool (yummy deep fried dough balls, and cabbage with gravy and smoked sausage). We're all sitting around the table and talking about how awesome my Dutch is (obviously I'm making the subject up here), when I try describing something I've done by saying "Ik kom klaar...."

I realised that I had made a god-awful mistake by the look on Maarten's face and the silence around me, but had no clue. Maarten then leaned in and asked me if I knew what I'd just said. Erm, obviously not. What I found out next was that ik kom klaar is Dutch for "I'm coming," and not in the 'wait up I'll be there in a sec' context, but more in the When Harry Met Sally context.

Really.

In front of the grandparents.

Who are 80 plus.

I wanted to die.

I don't know what made the family laugh harder: that I'd given away my bedroom secrets or my own reaction to having given them away!

What's your most embarrassing mistake? Go on, see if you can top that one. Bet you can't.

Final Inburgering Roundup

2011-02-27T19:59:00.001+01:00

So, it's been a couple of months now since I finished my course, and I must say that it's lovely having my life back to myself again! I had initially planned to go on immediately to study Staatsexamen I and II, but decided to give myself a break for a while and just be myself. I might pick it up again next year.

There are a couple of bits and pieces that I have to share about finishing the course that you may find interesting... The first is that upon being told I was geslaagd, I was invited to a graduation ceremony which was conveniently held on Christmas Eve in Amsterdam, so I couldn't go. In the letter describing the ceremony it was made clear that I could instead collect my diploma at the IB Groep location where I took my exams between the friendly hours of 10 and 4 on a Thursday. As you can imagine, I still haven't been to pick it up two months later. I really must make some arrangements to either get it sent to me or to take the afternoon off work to pick it up (I can imagine how flexible the IB Groep will be, so I guess it's off to Amsterdam for the day).

On a good (great, fantastic actually) note, the gemeente called me out of the blue a few weeks ago to offer their congratulations and to let me know that I qualified for a bonus! A nice tidy little 200 euro bonus to be exact! Tax free, deposited directly into my account which was an absolutely wonderful end to the entire experience!

Now that it's all said and done and I'm finished with my obligation I can sit back and reflect upon it all. Initially I was resentful of the process as I don't plan to live here permanently and I was quite happy staring at the walls at family gatherings, not to mention the seriously unuser-friendly process that getting integrated involves. For instance, I still shake my head at the gemeente contact person insisting on speaking Dutch when I couldn't communicate with her and she could speak perfectly good English, but I'm glad that the process forced me to become more involved and self-reliant. I don't avoid answering the telephone any more. I'm not terrified when a stranger approaches me. I can even argue over a restaurant bill (it's only in the Netherlands where arguing over a bill is expected ..!). It gives me a good feeling to hear praise from Dutchies complimenting me on my language skills, although they are always astounded as to why an Australian would possibly want to live in the Netherlands (but hey, perhaps they haven't seen the news in the last couple of months).

So what now? In May I will have lived here continuously with Maarten for three years, so will qualify to become naturalised. It's not something that I really want to do as I really strongly identify with being an Australian and couldn't possibly imagine being anything but. However, I am concerned about the ever-shifting goal posts of the Dutch Government's integration policies and have absolutely no desire to be pulled back up because they decide down the line that what I've already done is insufficient. Plus, having an EU passport means I can travel everywhere within the EU without visa hassles and long queues at the "All Other Passports" immigration points. I can even live in another country, and who knows what might happen in the future...?

More than anything though, I have really loved writing about the whole experience. So, although the main purpose of this blog is finished with, I think I'll keep it going. I love reading all the experiences of the many other wonderful expat bloggers (over there on the right are some of my absolute faves), so I think I'm going to join the ranks and start writing about life and fun in general. Lord knows I've had enough adventures to share, and this will be a healthy place to vent at the very least ;) It means I'm going to have to figure out how to tidy everything up and give the place a bit of a lift, but a change is as good as a holiday, right?

Ok, let's get properly integrated.

Geslaagd!

2010-12-06T16:12:00.001+01:00

I can't believe it, but I just had a message from my teacher that I passed all components of my exams! That means that I'm finished with the course and my obligation to the Dutch government is fulfilled and I will be allowed to apply for naturalisation (with a dual passport, of course) when I become eligible in May next year.

I must take a few moments to offer thanks to a some very special people:

Maarten. What a tower of strength (to pillage a cliché). He's held my hand, wiped my tears, endured my frustrated rants and laughed heartily at my lame attempts at humour in Dutch.

My sainted teacher Iva, without whom this would have been such a fun journey. Such a gifted teacher who makes learning fun - an absolute inspiration.

My new schoon-familie. A wonderful team of people who have never criticised, only offered their support and have kindly ignored my stumbles and tantrums.

My colleagues, especially Miki and Haris. Two people who have taught me more about Dutch culture (and its idiosyncrasies) than anyone else. Not bad for a pair of ex-Yugoslavians!

The Ttif Company. What a fantastic group of people and support network. I can't sing the company's praises enough. If you're just starting out and looking for a school that is a good fit, this is it. Believe me. And they're not even paying me to say that!

And lastly, to you. It's because of you that I've written about my experience, hoping that it will be easier and a less daunting process. It doesn't have to be hard, it's just a shame that the government doesn't like to share that with us.

This will probably be my last post for a while. I'm thinking carefully about taking the next step to study Staatsexamen niveau I and II, but am not sure if I have the energy for such a huge commitment. Until I take that step, I think it will be all quiet on this front...

Keep me posted on how it goes for you. If I can help, I will!!

,

Nerissa

Exams are done, done, DONE!

2010-12-02T15:57:00.001+01:00

It's been a hectic week. Nerissa World is insanely busy right now. This week is really the crescendo of it all, however. Hopefully by Monday everything will be back to normal, whatever that is!

This week I've done all four of my Dutch exams. Hopefully for the first and last time! I'll try to go through them all and tell you what I thought, and how I think you can better prepare yourself.

First up was the Toets Gesproken Nederland. This exam was what I was probably most nervous about. I was terrified about the tegenstellingen (opposites), because it is something that I've really struggled with. Poor Maarten has been practicing with me on the couch and I've been sitting there fighting tears because I was useless!

So, I was happy that it was first. Get the worst out the way, and all that! We met our lovely examiner - a really friendly guy who put us all at ease straight away. Good quality for an examiner, hey? He showed us all to little rooms with a telephone and a headset, then dialled a number for us and off we went. There was a practice question and the computer gave me a couple of example questions. The test was broken down into five sections, A-E. A was Nazeggen - repeating a sentence verbatim. It's important to note that you are scored in this section on each word, so if you don't remember all the words, that's fine. Just try and get as much out as possible with the same intonation that you've just heard. I was fine with most sentences, but as they became longer I couldn't remember everything. There were 10 sentences to repeat in all.

Section B was Tegenstellingen (from memory, but it could have been Korte Vragen). There were only about 10 words, but this is what I was most scared of. I think I gave a couple of stupid answers, like mondeling - stilstand (instead of schriftelijk) for example.

Section C was another round of Nazeggen, with another ten sentences. With the first three sections, I must tell you so you can prepare yourself, the voices were NOT clear. The voices were a bit muffled and the words were not clearly enunciated. For example's sake, to me it sounded like the team who put together the exam went out into Amsterdam with a mic and asked random people to give words/sentences. The accents and speed varied greatly. And not in a good way.

Section D was Korte Vragen. Meaning, the computer asked a short question, and I needed to give a one or two word answer. Again, from memory I think there were 10 questions in all. This wasn't difficult. It is only a problem if you don't know the answer in Dutch!

Section E (for me) was by far the easiest. We listened to two short stories, and then within a 30 second time frame had to say what the point of each story was. Basically, who the story was about, what they were doing, where and what etc.

After the exam was finished, a group of us discussed how we all went and what we thought. We all agreed that it was difficult to understand the voices and that the speed was faster than we expected. What I found interesting was that all the others thought that Section E was the most difficult, whereas I thought it was the easiest...

The best way to prepare yourself? Listen listen listen!! Listen to the radio, try to pick up different accents, but most of all relax in the exam! Which seems ridiculous coming from me - the least relaxed person I know! You have a reasonable length of time to answer each question, so the worst thing you can do is panic. Also remember that you have to get the answer right first time, so if you say the wrong word then the right word, too bad. The computer doesn't care.

After about a 10 minute interval (long enough to skull a quick coffee) we were called in for the Kennis Nederlandse Samenleving (KNS) exam. This is based on the practice exams that I've discussed in the past. You open a screen on the computer, watch a small film then answer a few related multiple choice questions. Depending on how difficult your individual test is (as they are all different), you will have between 35 and 42 questions to answer. I had 38 questions to answer and they were all a bit more difficult than I was expecting. I had questions about discrimination, teenagers skipping school, going into ondertrouw and healthcare (with a particularly disturbing film of Mo stabbing himself with a screwdriver!). There may have been a couple of others, but those were the main sections. I didn't know much about the process of when you feel discriminated at work, but tried to let commonsense play god. I think I did enough to pass. This exam lasted 45 minutes, and I was done with about 10 minutes to spare. There were a couple faster than me, and looking at my immediate neighbours, they were in strife. I think the girl on my left will be back in that exam room for sure.

Almost immediately afterwards we went in to the Elektronish Praktijk Exam (EPE). This exam was for 60 minutes, and was the same format as the KNS and the practice exams that I've already done. I found this exam to be by far the easiest. The most important point to note is that the answer is invariably in the text/video. You will never have to make up the answer that you think is correct (hello KNS, I'm talking to you). You just need to concentrate and read/listen correctly. I was done within 30 minutes.

Advice for the two last exams? KNS - learn Welkom in Nederland. Really. Learn it. Everything you need to know about this exam comes out of that book. EPE? Learn the language. What you learn in class is enough, if you pay attention that is... Basically if I can get to the stage of being able to take the exams with a reasonable level of confidence after only eight months, anyone can. Plus, think about what you would do in the situation. For example, one was Zara walking down the street pushing her grandson in a pram. She came across a car parked on the footpath belonging to the neighbour. She rings his bell. Then the question is, what happens next? I.e. what does she say when he opens the door, or what does he say in reply.

I walked out of the exams yesterday feeling as though I have done enough to pass. If anything, it will be the TGN that lets me down, but I certainly answered far more than 50% correctly. The big question is, did I crack 75%...? Only time will tell. I should have an answer in the next couple of weeks.

Today it was onto the big one. The Panelgesprek over mijn Portfolio. I have been working really hard on this one for the last few weeks, rehearsing scenarios and going through what I thought was difficult, easy, and most importantly, leukst ;)

The weather outside this morning was what could only be described as klote weer, so I made sure I left in plenty of time (taking bus 157 to Amstelstation and the metro to Wibraustraat - super fast and cheaper than the train!), so I rocked into the Ttif Company headquarters at 9.00, three quarters of an hour early! But, better too early than too late right (do we need any more proof that I'm fully ingeburgerd)? The interview began exactly on time, and instead of a team of daunting examiners, I met with two lovely ladies - Jamilla and Angelique, and we got straight into it. Jamilla did all the talking (and the interview was recorded), and Angelique listened and took notes. Jamilla asked me all sorts of questions, not just related to the portfolio, but how long I've lived here, where I work etc. Although I was nervous, I didn't feel like I was drowning, and we even got in trouble with the group next door because we were too loud!! That was a fabulous ice breaker, so after that I totally relaxed and just did my best. Jamilla asked me about my buurvrouw (thanks Connie!!), and even what she looks like! Sorry Connie, you've been described as a korte vrouw, but! You're also described as a Nieuwe Nederlander (they could tell I was so proud of you!).

After the short interview I had to complete a sheet with six questions. All very basic questions, like how many situations I had collected, what I found hard, important, nice etc. I was expecting to have to also write a short note to a friend (as I have been practicing that), but it wasn't necessary. I did find that I needed the full fifteen minutes provided though. I only just finished it in time. Angelique read what I had written, expressed that she was very impressed (yay!) and that she could already tell me that I had done enough and that I had passed the exam!! She told me that a letter to that effect would be following, but that I should relax, because she was very happy and could understand me very well. So basically, I rock.

Now it's just the waiting game for the other three exams from yesterday. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, please feel free to ask me ANY questions about the exams. I'm sure I can be of some use!

Tot snel.

Useful Link!!

2010-11-22T15:16:00.001+01:00

Although I've yet to try all the associated links from this page, there is a lot of useful information posted on NT2 Weblinker.

You can find links to practice exams and information about Elektronisch Praktijkexamen, Toets Gesproken Nederlands and Kennis Nederlandse Samenleving. There are some links that appear to be broken (not all of the Staatsexamen stuff works properly), but the site seems to be maintained regularly, so the information should be quite current.

If you're looking for a comprehensive site to give you all the info you need, this appears to be it. Go on, what are you waiting for?

Portfolio Interview Preparation

2010-11-15T16:45:00.001+01:00

Now that I'm done with gathering proof and putting together my portfolio (it's been sent to Amsterdam for assessment, I should hear sometime soon when the related exam is), I have a further document to study, which will prepare me for the exam. As a bit of preparation for your own exam, here are the basics that we will need to know when we go into the interview room:

The examiner will ask what was easiest, most difficult, the best and worst.
How each (or selected segments from the portfolio) went. For example they will ask about your chat with the neighbour - where it was, what you spoke about, what did the person look like etc.
Why did you choose each written situation (they will select a situation to discuss) and how long did it take you to complete.

Possible questions taken from each section (this is in Dutch, run it through google translate if you need. I would translate it for you, but google will probablly be more accurate!). Forgive my spelling:

Algemeen vragen:

Hoe lang bent u bezig geweest met het verzamelen van de bewijzen?
Hoe vond u het om dit portfolio te maken? (obviously honesty with a positive spin is needed here!)
Welk gesprek vond u het moelijkst en waarom?
Welk gesprek vond u het makkelijkst en waarom?
Welk gesprek vond u het leukst en waarom?
Welk gesprek vond u het belangrijkst en waarom?
Hoe bent u begonnen met her verzamelen van de bewijen? Heeft iemand u geholpen met het Portfolio? Hoe?

Vragen over bewijzen van gesprekken:

The examiner will chose a situation from the portfolio and ask you about it and say something like... "I see you have spoken with Mr/Mrs Jones...." Then will go on to ask the following sorts of questions:

Hoe ging dat gesprek?
Waar was het gesprek?
Waar hebben jullie over gepraat?
Wat wilde u weten? Of: Wat hebt u gevraagd?
Vond u het een goed gesprek? Waarom wel/waarom niet?
Wat vond u moelijk aan het gesprek?
Wat vond u makkelijk aan het gesprek?
Hoe hebt u zich op het gesprek voobereid?

Then, the examiner will choose another situation from the portfolio and ask different questions, still beginning with an opener as above ("I see you have spoken with Mr/Mrs Jones..")

Wat junt u vertellen over dat gesprek? Vertel eens iets over dat gesprek?
Wat wilde die meneer/mevrouw weten?
Welke vragen stelde hij/zij aan u?
Waar was het gesprek?
Hoe zag het gebouw eruit? Seriously? What did the building look like??)
Wat moet je doen als je daar binnenkomt bij het stadhuis? Of bij de politie?

Vragen over bewijzen van schrijven

Much the same as above, the examiner will take a situation from the portfolio and ask questions about it, for example "I see that you have written a note or filled in a form..."

Wat hebt u op dit formulier ingevuld/in dit briefje geschreven?
Waarvoor kunt u dit formulier/briefje gebruiken?
Hoe lang bent u bezig geweest met het invullen van het formulier/schrijven van het briefje?
Vond u het moielijk of makkelijk om did briefje te schrijven/formulier in te vullen?
Waarom was het makkelijk/moielijk?
Welke andere formulieren/briefjes heeft u verzameld in uw portfolio?
Welk formulier of briefje vond u het moielijkst?
Waarom vond u did moielijk?
Welk formulier of briefje vond u het belangrijkst?
Waarom vond u did belangrijk?

So, this interview portion is supposed to take 15 minutes in total. It's also important to note that you DO NOT need to know the contents of the portfolio by heart, but obviously you do need to know what you have in it! It's probably more useful to study the exam preparation document that I've outlined above so you are not thrown by any questions that the examiner might ask (what does your local city council or police station look like??!!). Oh, and most importantly, you're allowed to take your photocopy of the portfolio with you into the exam.

To accompany the spoken interview, there is a written section. This is also supposed to be 15 minutes. I can't answer whether the exam is limited to 30 minutes in total and if it's not completed in that time too bad, or if you can run over time. Perhaps someone who has completed the exam can enlighten?

The questions that you need to be able to answer in writing (full sentences, no one or two word answers allowed) could be as follows:

Hoe lang heeft u an uw portfolio gewerkt?
Hoeveel bewijzen van schrijven hebt u verzameld?
Welk schrijfproduct vond u moeilijk? Noem een schrijproduct
Waarom vond u dit schrijfproduct moielijk?
Hoeveel bewijzen hebt u verzameld?
Welk gesprekbewijs vond u moeilijk om te halen?

And finally, you need to write a short letter to a friend/family member about your portfolio. Basically outlining the same points as above (like how long it took, how easy or difficult it was, which was the most important to learn etc). I would say, between 50 and 100 words or 4 or 5 sentences.

It all sounds very daunting to me, but as we know, I'm a panicker. I have a practice interview this Wednesday at school to help me prepare. I'm also spending most of the each night awake thinking about what I need to be able to answer. Hopefully it will see me well prepared!

I'd love to hear about your own experiences with the portfolio exam, the more information the better as far as I'm concerned!!