for serious? no, for JOKE

Janam Din Bahut Mubarak Ho Anuj!

I think the title says "Happy Birthday Anuj!" in Hindi.  But since the only Hindi words I really know are all food-related, I can't be 100% sure that that is what I said in the title...

Today is a very special day.

Firstly, it is Anuj's birthday.  I mean, I could just stop right there and this day would be fantastically special enough!

Secondly, one year ago today, Anuj scared the living daylights out of me by proposing.  After I recovered from the shock, I think I said yes (did I?!? I know I agreed to marry him, but did I actually say yes??).  We are fully planning on living happily ever after.  Life is pretty sweet right now.

And lastly, as you read this I am on the flight to India.  We'll be gone for a week and stopping through Agra, Jaipur, and New Delhi, visiting my future in-laws, having parties, and shopping for Indian clothes and jewelry.  Interestingly, we also happen to be in India for Holi, an apparently rather rambuctious holiday marked by vibrant processions, lots of music and dancing, and an unusual habit of throwing brightly colored powder and water at people.  Hey, in New Orleans its hard plastic beads, in India it's mix-in-the-air paint.  To each his own! 

About 20 hours after we get back from India, I'll be boarding a flight to Copenhagen, Denmark, for a few meetings there.  I will therefor not be back fully installed in Amsterdam until Thursday, March 23rd.  That means no blog posts until then - but I'll make it up to you!  I promise!  Vivid Photos! Funny stories about Joke being completely out of place with her future family!  Slip-ups and fumbles! 

Please come back and check in then!

...

A special shout-out thank you to Marina... who sent me these Flippin' Sweet Peppermints in the mail.  I couldn't think of a more fun thing to get sent to me by post!  Oh - and the Johnny Cash albums are awesome.  Will totally keep me busy on the infinitely long flight to New Delhi!

Additional Thoughts on Anuj Moving Here

I asked Anuj if it was difficult for him to say goodbye to his parents on Wednesday. This is the first time for him living "abroad", or even more than a two hours' drive away from his parents. I worry about what a big change this is for him. Anuj laughed and said the goodbye wasn't that difficult, considering we are seeing his parents again in two days! (It's true - Anuj and I are leaving for India on Saturday. We'll be there for a week with his parents, meeting family and doing wedding-related shopping.)

But what was interesting is the conversation he had with his parents the night before boarding the plane. His parents immigrated to the U.S. when they got married, thinking it would be a “temporary” thing. And there they are now, almost 30 years later, living in Pennsylvania with a family and a successful business and really no plans to return to India in the near future. The point is they wouldn’t have guessed that this would be their future when they stepped on that airplane years ago. Anuj says these thoughts were going through his head as well when he boarded the plane to Amsterdam. We haven’t talked too much about our vision of the future; I know I’d like to stay in Amsterdam for at least a few years, and my hope is that we don’t move to the States immediately following our time here, but rather pick another new and exciting location. In fact, I’m not sure I ever want to return to the States. I’m open to all possibilities. Who knows, we might decide Amsterdam is the place for us, and still be here ten years from now. Or not!

What I love about Anuj is that he’s open to all the possibilities. That it’s quite possible we will love it here so much and be so successful that we’ll want to stay. Or that our success brings us to other exciting places. What I love about him is that he shares with me the idea that life is a series of opportunities and challenges and new beginnings. That no destination is a final one, but a springing platform to even more exciting adventures. It makes me understand that we’re going to be great together.

…

This morning was hectic. Mom, Anuj, and I all had to get out the door in time, there was still a little bit of a mess from the welcome-to-Amsterdam party I threw for Anuj last night, and all of our things (lots and lots of suitcases) are kind of everywhere. It’s not too bad, all three of us are neat people, but I’ll tell you one thing we can’t work around: the water situation in the apartment! When one person is in the shower, no other aquafacilities can be in use if you don’t want to shockfreezekill the person in the shower. That means no toilet flushing, no rinsing your razor in the sink (Anuj!), no washing the dishes real quick, no getting hot water for coffee… Crazy!

…

Despite the aggravation at the water issue, we had a wonderful breakfast all together. Anuj was discussing some of the things that he has found remarkable in the past 24 hours. It is going to be so fun for me to witness a first-time-living-in-Europe experience through his eyes. I’ve never lived in the Netherlands either before this, but being from Belgium the culture shock was of no significance with me. Some things Anuj said at breakfast that made me laugh:

• He proudly announced that he bought his very first strippenkaart yesterday. I don’t know why it made me giggle that he was so proud that he now has his very own ticket to public transportation.
• Anuj could not get over the fact that we served cubes of cheese next to a dipping bowl with mustard yesterday. He says he was so excited to be eating cheese off a toothpick it didn’t even occur to him that he should dip it in mustard too.
• When I remarked in Dutch that the street was being cleaned, (the Flemish word is “kuis(en)”) Anuj exasperatedly said, “Is everything about cheese in the Netherlands?” After momentary confusion we realized he thought I said “kaas”, not “kuis”.
• Mom and I laughed ourselves silly at “Friendly vegetables”. To give someone your regards in Dutch you say “Groeten”. Vegetables in Dutch is “GroeNten”. “Vriendelijke groeten” had an English-speaker all confused.

I think it’s only fitting that I leave you with a photo of the cheese corner of the grocery store on my corner. My sister Hedwig took this picture a couple of weeks ago:

It's Official: Anuj and I are living together again!

Last night I stayed up late cleaning the apartment and catching up on the mountains of work I have to do. 

This morning I woke up, showered and got dressed, blearily made coffee and sat down to check my email.  I also checked Anuj's flight status, to see whether he landed in time.  As I was hitting "go" on the webbrowser the doorbell rang and I looked up at mom in surprise.  Was it possible?  Anuj was already at the door!!  No joke, the man made it off the plane, through baggage claim and customs, through the airport and into the taxi into the city and my apartment in 45 minutes flat!!  He said he couldn't wait to see me :)

What also made us laugh this morning was the fact that Anuj is currently growing a beard, which I think is very manly and attractive on him.  In any case, with his olive skin, dark hair, and substantial beard he looks a bit stereotypically "suspicious" for airport-travel standards.  Add the fact that he was carrying two enormous heavy suitcases and two heavy backpacks, and you've got yourself a complete picture.  Customs stopped him of course and searched all his bags.  (I wonder what the customs officers thought of our gorgeous wedding invitations?)   And he STILL made it to my front door in record time.

It felt good to hand him his own set of keys to this place this morning.  It feels good to know he's here, and we're here together.

Old-fashioned Fun

I have obtained a new obsession. I have an obsessive personality (I dare you to ask any of my family members about anything related to me and the Beatles, specifically John Lennon). Well, my latest obsession is SUDOKU. I simply cannot get enough of this game. Mom – who is staying with me for a few weeks – had brought a little book of sudoku puzzles with her on the airplane and one evening at home showed me the basics of the game. Of course I had seen people play them on the train before, and of course I know I am quite behind the times for obsessing over this, but man, this game has me hooked. After mom showed me some basic principles I was hooked. We keep drawing the same puzzle on two different sets of paper and racing each other to complete them. She was whooping my butt in the beginning but I’ve had some victories lately and I am unstoppable baby!

Another current obsession of mine is Johnny Cash. Again, I don’t claim to be cutting edge or anything. Don’t come to this website if you’re looking for something NEW, something UNIQUE to enjoy. But I guess I’m all about old fashioned fun. And “A Boy Named Sue” is some old fashioned fun!! My sister sent me two Cash albums for my birthday and they’ve been playing nonstop. “Folsom Prison Blues” plays while my mom and I are furiously erasing different number combinations from our respective puzzles-in-progress. In the mornings, when we wake up bleary-eyed and ready for a cup of coffee, I survey the wreckage of the night before: those little pencil eraser filings everywhere, sheets and sheets of paper with completed puzzles strewn all about the room, and the CD player still whispering “Ring of Fire” to itself. I tell ya, mom and I know how to party!

No, seriously, we don’t only play Sudoku together. My mom is an avid theatre goer. Actually, I would consider myself one as well, but my mom really gets me going. She picks something out practically every night, and the additional bonus is that tickets in Amsterdam are so cheap that even if the performance ends up being awful you couldn’t possibly regret it, since you only spent 5 euro on it in the first place.

I’ll give you a rundown of some of the things we’ve seen in the past week. We saw an amazing Beethoven symphony performed at the Concertgebouw with my uncle; it was sweeping and lovely.

We saw an extremely strange play called “Madame de Sade”, about the wife of the inventor of sadism. Yes, what you’re thinking is true: put Amsterdam and sadism and theatre together and you’ve got yourself a recipe for nudity. What IS it with the Dutch and nudity? They’ll pop it in anywhere, if it doesn’t fit with the story line they will MAKE it fit. In this particular play, there was a moment were a completely naked drag queen stepped onto the stage, with blood all over his lipsticked lips, his chest, and dripping down his penis. He proceeded to have a ten minute monologue. The play was interesting, we concluded, but not necessarily to be recommended to others.

Last night we went to go listen to a “master story teller”. How cool and old-fashioned is that? He told us two detailed stories about ancient Egypt, and prefaced it by saying that story telling is an about-to-be-lost art form. The purpose is to draw the audience completely into the present and have them forget about time and anything else around them. He certainly accomplished this – he had me enthralled for about three hours. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at ENDING the story. The endings were so abrupt that I felt rudely pushed back into reality. His first story was better than the second – I think we were all tired by the end of the evening.

Tonight we went to go see a dance performance at the MuziekTheater (Stopera). It was modern Chinese choreography, but with a lot of classic element from ancient Chinese puppet theatre in it. I loved the venue, and the costumes and makeup. I dug some of the choreography, but the music was too jarring to really enjoy.

So there you go. This is what mom and I do when we’re let loose in Amsterdam. Not the kind of wild fun most college kids would think of when they think of Amsterdam, but we love it.

On another happy note: in about 8 hours Anuj will be landing at Schiphol airport, in order to LIVE IN AMSTERDAM PERMANENTLY. After seven months of long distance relationship holding, we finally get to live together again and be a couple. I’m not sure I will get much sleep tonight…

Wet Butt

It snowed in Amsterdam!   And not just snowed, it actually stuck to the ground, for the first time.  I woke up to seeing white sparkling all over the back yard.  When I unlocked my bicycle I had to wipe a whole crust of icy snow off the seat.  Many smart commuters in Amsterdam keep a plastic grocery bag wrapped around the seat of their bicycles for just these sorts of occasions – it ensures that the leather saddle isn’t soaking wet when you sit on it.  Well, I am not that prepared or forward thinking, so I have no such Wetness Protection Program.  I plopped my butt down on the saddle and… squish.  Ick.   Result?  I waddled into my office this morning with a nice wet triangle positioned squarely on my butt.  Fantastic.  I mean, I try to come across as professional, but this accessory is just not going with my outfit. 

Here is a picture of me in my new office!   My sister took the picture over a week ago when she walked into the office.  She started laughing at the sight of me.  Which leads me to think again: maybe that whole looking professional thing is not working out so well for me!

Surviving the Weekend

Marina was here this weekend and it was fabulous.  We scoured the city for fun shops and gezellige cafés.  We also laughed ourselves silly - sometimes I wonder whether anyone overhearing us would also think we are funny, or whether they'd think we are just completely nuts.  Probably the latter. 

In the usual Marina and Joke fashion, this weekend we drank too much wine and too little water.  We got up much too early and went to bed entirely too late.  We had Belgian beers on Friday and made Russian Borscht on Sunday.  I'm exhausted!

This train is for COCKFOSTERS

Alternative Titles:

• HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIRSTEN!
• Hello DOOCE readers!!!

But for the entry to make sense we stick with:

• This train is for COCKFOSTERS

“Excuse me?!” I thought.   On Sunday I was on the underground making my way from Heathrow airport to center of London.  I haven’t been in London since I was 17, so I was fumbling with everything; my luggage, the British Pounds, and the public transportation system.  I kept bumping into people because I was walking in the wrong direction on the side of the hallway: the British don’t only drive left, they also walk left.  When I finally plopped into a seat on the underground, I looked up to see the neon light blinking at me “This train is for COCKFOSTERS”.  Great, now I was being insulted as well!

The of course I realized Cockfosters is just a final stop on one of the tube lines.  Crikey.

My (work related) trip to London was sandwiched between two fun personal happenings.  My sister and her girlfriend were here in Amsterdam this weekend.  Though they jokingly called me their “militant tour guide” (since I was always planning our next step and keeping us on schedule), we had a great time and managed to squeeze in a solid amount of walking, museum visits, and cozy meals into what was just shy of a 48 hour visit.  Such a treat to get to spend some time with my older sister.

Right now a great friend of mine from NYC is taking a nap in my bed – my Russian friend Marina.  I had promised to go pick her up at the airport – I was going to be waiting for her with tulips and balloons and everything.  As I do before all visits from friends and family, I stayed up fairly late last night cleaning my apartment so it would be extra cozy for visitors…

I woke up to the sound of my mobile phone going off… I shot awake and I knew what had happened before my eyes had even fully opened.  Marina, like an underage child whose ride has forgotten her, had a Schiphol Employee Lady give me a call and ask where the heck I was.   Man, I felt terrible.  We ended up meeting at the Central Train Station instead.  I tried to make up for my goof by fattening Marina up with a nice Dutch coffee-bread-and-cheese breakfast.  Now she’s snoozing peacefully.  But I’ll be feeling sheepish and guilty about this morning for awhile. 

Another reason to feel guilty:  (I should have written about this in the first place.)

HAPPY 25th BIRTHDAY KIRSTEN!!!

Now is the time you might start sliding into a quarter life crisis, but don't do it girl.  Here's some "way back" photos 'specially for you...

Here we are in June 1984

And in July 1985

In case there's any doubt, I am the dorky one.  Kir is the sweetie pie blondie.

Also P.S. - this is kind of fun.... DOOCE readers are flooding my site!!  Hello everyone.  Hope you stick around... go through the past ten days' posts to read a little about my encounter with Dooce.

This Morning, I Laughed All The Way To Work

I couldn’t help it!  It rained for the first time in a long time.  No, sorry, I should revise that (This is Amsterdam!  It rains every single day).   It rained for the first time in a long time during the time slot in which I commute to work.  It rained the way it can only rain in Northern Europe (or perhaps, Seattle); that slow but steady drizzle.  Not a downpour, and not a sprinkle, just unstoppable raindrops coming down relentlessly.  Deep puddles everywhere, and the ducks in the canals look like they are practically drowning.  All you see are big umbrellas and sloshing wet pants and rain boots peeking out from underneath.  Rather than being in a hurry, people just look resigned to their fate of getting soaked through to the skin.

And me?  Me, on my bicycle, with my huge neon orange poncho covering me, my bike, my laptop satchel and my lunch bag simultaneously, but not quite adequately.  My ankles were getting soaked, and I could feel some raindrops trickling down my neck.

But still, I laughed.  There was just something so otherworldly pleasant about the whole thing.  The city gets much quieter when it rains, partially because people try to stay inside and partially because soft steady rain can have a dampening effect much the way snow can.  I felt warm and content under my poncho/coat/undercoat/sweater combo, and most importantly, unhurried.  I am always in a rush, always hurrying to get to work (or away from it!), or late for meeting up with someone.  But when it rains you have to slow down.  Cycling quickly through a puddle will only result in a splash making yourself and any potential bystanders even wetter.  The rain will hit you in the face if you have too much speed. 

So you take it slow.  And you taste the rain.  And you laugh on your way to work.

_______________________________________________________

I hate to add a P.S. to this post, but I know I owe you all some backstory on meeting Dooce and Blurbomat.    It will come, but I felt like writing about rain today.

Ja, Ik Spreek Engels

(link explaining title)

Anuj leaves again tomorrow, so we’re just chilling out at home, enjoying each other’s company.  In truth, we’re both a little groggy from last night.   We went out for Thai food and then met up with friends at a bar.  And not just any friends!  Saron was there, and her husband Eric.  And – drumroll please- Heather/Dooce and Jon/Blurbomat!  I know I sound a bit like a gushing teenager, but seriously, I was honored and thrilled that we got to hang out.   

I had asked them to meet up for a drink, not really ever expecting them to get back to me.  I would have asked them out to dinner, but you know how it is when you meet someone new.  The whole thing might bomb and you’ll sit there wishing you’d just asked them for a drink and why did I insist on this hours-long dinner for pete’s sake?!  No such feelings last night– we ended up hanging out from 8 pm until 2 in the morning.   

I tried really hard to act normal.  It’s so strange to meet people that you feel you know so well!  Would they be different than expected?  Snooty or inapproachable?  So chill that it’d be hard to converse?  Would I be so overexcited about actually seeing them in person that I would make a complete fool of myself? 

Anuj and I got to the bar first, and about ten minutes Heather and Jon walked in – I recognized them instantly.  I also instantly started sweating… I practically fell over a bar stool and faceplanted on the floor of the bar on my way over to greet them.  Three kisses on alternating cheeks, Dutch style.  We settled in at the bar and had the typical:  Belgian beers, old jenever, bitterballen, and fries with mayonnaise.  We drowned ‘em in that shit!

As my sister would say, “Good times”.  The internet is a crazy world – how the hell else would a Belgian former New Yorker have ended up meeting a couple of witty and famous ex-Mormons from Utah?

I’ll leave you all with an excerpt from Pulp Fiction; life in Amsterdam versus life in New York.

Jules: Okay, so tell me again about the hash bars.
Vincent: Okay, so what'cha want to know?
Jules: Hash is legal there, right?
Vincent: It's legal, but it ain't a hundred percent legal. I mean you can't walk into a restaurant, roll a joint, and start puffin' away. I mean, they want you to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
Jules: And those are hash bars?
Vincent: Yeah, it breaks down like this: okay, it's legal to buy it, it's legal to own it and, if you're the proprietor of a hash bar, it's legal to sell it. It's illegal to carry it, but, but - but that doesn't matter 'cause -- get a load of this, allright -- if you get stopped by a cop in Amsterdam, it's illegal for them to search you. I mean that's a right the cops in Amsterdam don't have.
Jules: Oh, man, I'm goin', that's all there is to it -- I'm fuckin' goin'.
Vincent: I know baby. You'd dig it the most. But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: It's the little differences. I mean they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it's just - it's just there it's a little different.
Jules: Examples?
Vincent: Alright, well you can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don't mean just like in no paper cup, I'm talking about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer at McDonald's. And you know what they call a, uh, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: Nah, man, they got the metric system, they wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: What do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a "Royale with Cheese."
Jules: "Royale with Cheese."
Vincent: Thats right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac."
Jules: "Le Big Mac." [laughs] What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King. But, you know what they put on french fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: God damn!
Vincent: I seen 'em do it, man, they fuckin' drown 'em in that shit.
Jules: That's some fucked up shit.

Fansite

I'm like a teenager circa 1998.  No, the Backstreet Boys aren't in town, but DOOCE is!  And Blurbomat. They're visiting Amsterdam through Bloggers in Amsterdam.  Which, I'm guessing I wasn't invited because, hello!  I already live here.  It has nothing to do with the fact that I have a limited amount of readers a day.  NOTHING.

But I totally sent Heather and Jon an email, pointing out some cool spots to visit and asking whether they wanted to go have a beer.  No response yet... *grin*.

I DO kind of feel like they're stepping on my blogging territory - but here and here are their great Amsterdam posts for the day.  That photo Heather took from the canal looking up at the rowhouses?  Is totally on my bike ride path to work.