As promised, I am going to now spend the next posts (with intermittent progress notes about my current Dutched reality) sharing about my “extraordinary” European Road-trip to Italy.
Amusingly, Bram and I started our vacation a day earlier than anticipated. We didn’t realize this until the moment we arrived at the roadside motel after six hours of driving. At first glance, one can immediately recognize it as a motel specifically booked as a pit stop somewhere in Southern Germany before the final destination to Italy. According to several reliable sources, it was a no-nonsense, clean budget hotel that provided weary travellers a place to rest and possibly a good night’s rest.
Perhaps it was the desolate and uninviting aura of the motel or possibly the gloomy rainy weather, but Bram immediately sensed my hesitation. Being a proud glorified tech geek, Bram heroically opened his trusty macbook pro and corresponding 3G card (wireless internet access) to book another hotel that was a more gezellig.
As luck would have it (and stayed with us for most of the trip), a hotel reminiscent of a “Sound of Music” experience was available for two nights. The family-run hotel was also conveniently situated at theentrance of several hiking trails in Germany’s ancient Black Forest. Somewhere in the recesses of my childhood memory I am convinced of having once heard about the Black Forest. As far as I was concerned, it was an ideal setting for all those fairy tales. What better way to start a vacation than in a land inspired by fairy tales?
Bram and I spent the next two days wandering around the idyllic countryside. The second day we even managed to ambitiously hike 14 miles through the Black Forest to Waldkirch and back.
I must also embarrassingly admit that I never had an inclination to ever visit Southern Germany and play tourist. Granted, Glottertal and Waldkirch are not the friendliest places in the world. Despite our numerous attempts at a reciprocal hello from the local villagers, we only received blank, possibly discriminatory stares and/or hurried strides with heads bowed down. Nonetheless, we had a pleasant time being goofy and enjoying the Southern German Sun.
Believe it or not, I am already planning my next “vacation”, excitedly counting down the days to home sweet home San Francisco (December 15, 2008-January 2, 2009). Concerned about the erratically changing airline tickets and policies, I decided to book two direct flights to San FranciscoInternationalAirport from AmsterdamSchipholAirport courtesy of KLM airlines.
As everyone is probably painfully aware of, Christmas Season is unforgiving to one’s pockets, especially in regards to international flights. With rising fuel prices, I am afraid that flying back home is going to be even more financially challenging.
I have to keep reminding myself that going back home is not a luxury as much as a necessity, an obligation to my own well-being. I must confess that I am once again finding it incredibly difficult to living in a world of perpetual rain and cloudiness. Fortunately, I have a wonderful fiancé who manages to put up with my occasional tantrums about the horrible weather.
In the mean time, I can work deligently on my thesis, daydream about my semi-recent escape to Italy, mischievously plan my upcoming vacation and wedding details, and desperately try to not go crazy in a world where I obviously don’t belong in. And of course, be more deligent in blogging!
I am officially back in the Netherlands from a much deserved and appreciated holiday to Italy. In the past two weeks, Bram and I managed to find ourselves in what could arguably be among the most beautiful places in the world-Cinque Terre, Florence, Tuscan Country Side, Siena, and Lago di Como. Not to forget to mention, we also stumbled upon a lot of scenic and cultural surprises along the way.
Perhaps the highlight of the trip was being blessed enough to have experienced one of the best kept secrets in Italy. Part of its charm is that its off the beaten path and provides a wealth of history, culinary delights, incredible nature, and last but not least, a wonderful community enthusiastically offering genuine friendships. And all of this was not lost in translation…
For the next couple of posts I will be writing about our trip, and of course, more about my struggles with acclimating back to a Dutched reality.
Wow. I have so neglected my blog. Three more days till semi-official freedom from “higher education”. Two more days of undeterred, concentrated effort, one more “optional” exam on Friday, last minute shopping and family bonding time on Saturday, and off to Italy (via Euro-Road trip).
In the meantime, here is a video, lovingly pointed out to me by my fiance and probably watched by millions of people, courtesy of the New York Times:
I hope that it can put a smile on your face and “inspire”.
During this “study-break”, I’ve decided to get more organized about all the wedding plans circling around my head. I have lots of ideas, and granted that my wedding is two years away, I want to start making semi-serious plans now. My biggest fear actually is since I am planning a San Francisco wedding from the Netherlands, I would face unique and interesting challenges, especially for someone who wants to be detail-oriented. Nonetheless, I think its a fun endeavor and at least a much needed “escape” from my Dutched reality.
I think that also “blogging” about my wedding plans provides me some emotional solace. I don’t want to drive my friends and family crazy with all the planning since it is, in reality, quite some time away. =)
Aside from joining The Knot’s website (www.theknot.com) and Wedding Bee (www.weddingbee.com), I’ve also pre-registred two personal “wedding” websites -www.rinamaeandbram.com and www.bramandrinamae.com. Nothing is officially on it yet, but I hope to have something up by December.
Wish me luck on two more weeks of finals! Then its off to writing my thesis and seriously trying to learn Dutch. =)
Despite being sleep deprived, emotionally exhausted, and leaning towards antisocial tendencies (I am in the midst of my last round of finals), my classmate and confidant Amanda charmed me into going to the “Teacher of the Year” award ceremony. To our pleasant amazement, our “favorite” professor won. For a brief moment he was even my thesis advisor, patiently introducing me into the world of advanced health econometrics (more on that later..).
Always the one to support the “underdog”, I came prepared to route for him despite the prevailing undertones among our classmates that he may not win. Not that many students are disgruntled with his teaching style. Rather it is simply a matter of numbers- the voting system included undergraduates (the majority of the voting population) who never had the privilege of being taught by him. Nonetheless, we were all pleasantly surprised and proud that all his hard work and efforts were finally recognized. He was even gracious enough to give his sweet acceptance speech in English (as personally requested by me).
It’s times like these, when you can share in the brief moment of joy in someone’s accomplishments despite the odds that inspire me to keep trying in what ever I set my heart to. Like the story of the toy train engine, I am the “little economist that could”.
One more official month of madness (finals and papers) till a much anticipated Eurotrip (roadtrip) through Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy (and possibly France) for two weeks (or maybe three…). The first part of the trip has already been booked, courtesy of my neurosis in making sure that the plan goes through. One can only dream can’t they?
This past weekend (May 10-12) was not only a double family celebration of Mother’s Day and Pentacost, but also my 26th birthday. =)
I must confess that on Saturday morning, I was giving the Dutch Boy a considerably hard time. I was miserable and moody. Not only was I turning 26 and feeling like a complete failure, but it was the fourth Mother’s Day I was spending away from my mom.
Nonetheless, the Dutch Boy put up a good fight and managed to drag me out to Amsterdam to watch Cirque du Soleil’s Varekai. While I had already hinted to him that I would enjoy such a treat, I was quite surprised at the great center front seats he mustered to get. Even though I occasionally tease him with his Dutch thrift, the boy does know a think or two about being a hopeless romantic. I love him with all my heart, and sometimes my temperamental Taurus mood can go a little too far.
I’ve always wanted to watch a Cirque du Soleil show ever since hearing my favorite professor’s genuine excitement about it. Never one to follow the trend, I initially thought that the show might be a little too strange for me–a supposed colorful fantasy world filled with eccentric costumes, acrobatic performances, and singing in a non-existent language. Why would I even want to bother?
The professor, however, continued to be extremely enthusiastic about it, exclaiming that if he were to only watch one show in Las Vegas, it would be Cirque du Soleil. His winning argument was that not only did it have highly talented performers and script writers, but it also engaged the audience for two hours in another world of possibility and to simply inspire what dreams may come…
Living in the modern world can sometimes be daunting, stressful, and overall heartbreaking. I also knew that this professor wanted me to experience life beyond the confines of Berkeley’s stifling walls, to see another world past striving for academic achievement and all the pomp and circumstance. He wanted his students to dream and Cirque du Soleil was an interesting and unique outlet to do so.
I finally acquiesced. After all, if he happened to be wrong, I would still enjoy a treat from highly skilled performers and witty script writers. Granted it took me five years to finally see the show, but it was perhaps the most appropriate time in my life to have watched it. There’s nothing better than to have an experience that lets you reminisce about the past, evaluate the present, and dream of the future on your birthday. Sharing it with the love of your life also makes the experience so much sweeter.
Since I was in such a bad mood before the show (I was feeling ugly, fat and stupid) and thus emotionally exhausted, I wasn’t mischievous enough to try to take any pictures. Instead, I managed to find a clip from youtube to try to share my wonderful experience.
Warning: If you do intend on watching a Cirque du Soleil show, the following clip may be a spoiler. Furthermore, it does not do any justice to the world acclaimed performances.
The rest of the weekend was incredibly “gezellig”. Dutch boy and I enjoyed a lavish Mother’s Day/birthday brunch at his mother’s garden with the company of his two precocious nieces, two older sisters, mother, brother in-law, favorite aunt and uncle. We were all grateful for the rare treat of sunshine, flowers, and family. While I may not actually fit in with Dutch boy’s family (especially due to cultural idiosyncrasies), they really are darling and their hearts are in the right place. I know that one day, especially after I learn how to speak Dutch and thus can finally have a decent conversation, my relationship with them will improve.
Later on the day, he happily drove me to Maastricht, a city two hours away but seemingly another world. I should actually dedicate another blog post to this wonderful gem affectionately called Maastricht. After wandering the cobbled stone streets, we had dinner at De Cuyp, a New York Times recommend restaurant. I can’t help but go to restaurants reviewed by their critics. More often than not, they are often on point and offer valuable tips on getting the most value for your palate. We ordered the “surprise menu” which was basically a three course meal chosen by the chef, and the wine special with appropriately paired wines. Not being regular drinkers and having generous refills, the wine got the best of us. The friendly owner actually helped us find sobriety in the end by trying to have a conversation with us.
It was actually a relief that we came to our senses at the end of the night. We were staying with his favorite aunt (who we had brunch with earlier that day) and it would have been completely inappropriate to have showed up at her door-step at midnight inebriated. Although we did have the keys, she actually stayed up to have tea with us. She is incredibly sweet! After having a heart to heart with her, we went to bed and looked forward to enjoying breakfast with her and my first official time on a racing bike.
When I managed to finally wake up, I was delighted to see her trying to quietly walk down the stairs to prepare breakfast. While I felt inclined to help her, she seemed to take a lot of joy of playing the “mom/aunt/grandmother” role. When ever relatives come to visit Maastricht, she takes often takes it personally if they don’t stay over at her place. I love her for being so traditional, so caring about family.
After a nice traditional Southern Dutch brunch (more emphasis on sweets), we all enjoyed a walk up to a cafe on top of a hill just a 15 minute way away from her home. I was pleasantly surprised to actually be on a hill in the Netherlands, a land notorious for being mostly below sea level. It was also a hill that was adorned with small farms, collectively known as Saint Peter’s garden. I must confess that part of the reason why I enjoyed it so much was that it seemed like a world away. It was as if I was in the Provence rather than in the Low Countries. You can only imagine how much I appreciated it.
The cafe provided a picturesque view of Maastricht, a juxtaposition of scenic farmland and gardens on hills in the foreground and with a panoramic view of the city in the backdrop. Making the moment just a little bit sweeter was my first ever Limburgse vlaai (original rice flavor). I’m still dreaming about it till this day.
While it was difficult to momentarily say goodbye to the Dutch Boy’s aunt, her tempting us with another round of coffee or two, we managed to break away and head over to Meerssen/Valkenburg, a cyclist’s paradise. Never having been on a racing bike before and actually accident prone, you can only imagine how scared I was to get on this bike with bike clips. My experience (and associated thoughts) might as well deserve another blog post. =)
By the end of the bike trip in the hot sun and unforgiving hills, our appetites were insatiable and so was our need for a long refreshing shower. Never fear–the Dutch Boy’s Aunt’s house was near! It was of course another pleasant dinner filled with great food and heart to hearts. This time it was hard to go back to Utrecht. Nonetheless, real life was beckoning us once again and I was assured that I can always come by to visit. =)
Thank-you my love for making this one of the best and most memorable birthday’s I ever had. Not to forget to mention the love and warmth your family has shown me to make me feel special on my birthday(weekend).
One of the most unpleasant adjustments I had to make in the Netherlands was becoming accustomed to the dreaded Water Closet, more commonly referred to by Americans as the restroom.
Taking the term “Water Closet” literally, the standard Dutch restroom has been reduced to nothing more than a “standing-room only” space outfitted with a toilet. A claustrophobia’s real world nightmare, one has to cleverly maneuver themselves inside, close the door, adjust their clothing, and appropriately decide the most comfortable position for their limbs.
With my comparatively minature 5″2 frame, I cannot help but wonder at times how adult-size Dutch people (many towering well above 6″ feet) manage to get themselves inside the cupboard-like room. With such long legs, I can only guess that the most comfortable position for these giants is having their knees strategically pressed against the door. Granted, the Dutch have only been recently declared as the tallest people in the world and thus such inconveniences must not have been voiced until now.
Arguably the most alarming feature of a Water Closet is the infamous Dutch toilet bowl. Dutch engineers have designed the bowl itself to contain a plateau set well above the normal water level.To say the least, one must be very comfortable with themselves and all their excrement’s on the display shelf. Why the Dutch would have such a perverse desire to examine or witness their waste remains a mystery. Perhaps it is the lingering Dutch sentiment of having reclaimed the land from the sea that extends towards this toilet philosophy. By having a plateau set above the water level and having the option of controlling the amount of water to be flushed, the environment might provide temporary comfort that the Dutch are still masters of the sea after all.
Once a person has completed his/her business, he/she is confronted with the new challenge of cleaning up one’s own mess. Having just described the Dutch toilet with its unashamed plateau showcasing one’s most recent accomplishment’s, one can only imagine the new task that must, with all politeness, be dealt with. Never fear! The Dutch have ingeniously provided a compulsory toilet brush and chemical laden toilet cleaner appropriately within reach.
Newcomers may benefit from such an embarrassment with this Insider’s tip: Line the plateau with toilet paper and tactically aim one’s most recent stomach contents onto it. A single flush will hopefully leave no shameful streaks and unnecessary expenditure of one’s energy and the costs of the toiler cleaner.
Never loosing the opportunity to exercise Dutch thrift, most would also have the opportunity of witnessing first hand of Dutch hydraulic ingenuity. They can either choose a smaller button to flush tiny amount of water, or a larger button promising a more robust flush to rid unwanted waste. Water of course isn’t free so one is cautioned to use water as sparingly as possible and only when absolutely necessary.
Last but not least, being in such a confined space, a display shelf, and lack of an electronic ventilation switch, one may also have to endure a robust, unpleasant aromatic setting. For those who do not enjoy the pervasive odor , they may be fortunate enough to find an air purifier. I highly recommend AmbiPur Puresse, an air fresher that provides relief and is also hypo allergenic.
After having mastered the Dutch Water Closet and all its glory, one can then truly leave with a sense of accomplishment for the day.
The summer holiday’s are fast approaching and I’m now dreaming of my next destination- Cinque Terre, Italy. The Dutch boyfriend and I have finally relinquished our desire for another San Francisco trip this July. A direct flight (as recently checked on Travelocity at exactly 11:52 pm this evening) suggests an unreasonable price of $1,939 on Northwest Airlines or a mere $6,272 on KLM Royal Dutch Airlines per ticket. Other flights were surprisingly not that far off from the direct flight.
While I do miss home, there’s this Old World that I have only began to explore. My homesickness will be appropriately cured due Christmas and New Year’s time anyway.
Taking full advantage of the generous Dutch vacation system, my Dutch boyfriend and I have decided to do dedicate one week to some mountain bike trip, preferably in South Tyrol and then the following week to Cinque Terre. Just looking at the pictures of Cinque Terre makes me excited! Its basically another “version” (perhaps arguably more beautiful) of my beloved San Francisco Bay Area. The comparison is made not necessarily because of similarities in culture but rather of the serene juxtaposition of a beautiful ocean and hills. Its composed of 5 tiny medieval villages nestled along Italy’s Northern Riviera complete with a picturesque coastline, steep hills, an epicureans delight, and of course, family owned vineyards.
I’m crossing my fingers that this romantic getaway will come through in July, just in time to celebrate his 29th birthday.=) After all, life is but a dream…
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
–Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
It has been officially one year since I have made the life-changing move to the Netherlands. To commemorate my first year in the Netherlands (as well as optimistically the end of my quarter life crisis), I thought it was most appropriate to reflect on Elizabeth Bishop’s poem, “One Art”.
On the surface, Bishop’s famous poem “One Art” is about graciously practicing the act of loss, the forfeiture of sentimental attachments associated with loss–from the mundane to those closely guarded by one’s own beating heart. By mastering the art of loss, and consequently recognizing life’s imperfections, one empowers him/herself from grief. Arguably the most seductive aspect of Bishop’s poem is how the stanzas articulate the tension between the conscious discipline one exerts in life (nonchalantly accepting loss) and the unforeseen, uncontrollable forces of fate (circumstance).
Upon closer inspection, one awakens to the realization that this villanelle, confined to one of the strictest verse forms, could barely restrain the grief that permeates throughout the lines. In the final quatrain, a soliloquy unfolds rendering the author and the reader vulnerable to breaking down with grief. The deliberately chosen syntax unmasks the pain associated with a profound loss, defiantly suppressing the anxiety of losing “you” till the very end.
Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art” poignantly illustrates the human experience of loss and gracefully touches the anxiety of losing what one hold’s closest to his/her heart. More often than not, readers relate to the “you” as a loss of a loved one. From the perspective of an expatriate living in the Netherlands, I suggest that “One Art” courageously tackles the dread of losing one’s own self.
Perhaps the most challenging aspect of living an expatriate life in the Netherlands is to never lose sight of who “you” really are, what matters most to you, and what kind of person you want to become.
The anxiety of dealing with culture shock and (perhaps consequently) feelings of being powerless can render one to be bitter and to book a ticket home as soon as humanly possible. Never in my life (having lived in the Philippines, Northern California, and the East Coast) had I had to deal with such a propensity for inexcusable rudeness, impolite directness, suffocating thrift and unwarranted envy. Even the heavily enforced tax system strategically punishes hard work and sacrifice.
“There but for the Grace of God go I”. I know who I am. I refuse to become bitter and angry, never to loose sight of who I am, where I come from and where I want to be. And if I ever lose sight of who I am, that my friends, would be such a disaster!
Reflecting on my previous blog posts throughout the year, it is quite apparent that I have constantly struggled to find happiness in the Low Country and have often reverted back to criticism. I have finally found my peace and am ready to fully embrace life in the Netherlands with more patience and a stronger back bone. In other words, I am so done with the bitching.
Now a “seasoned” blogger and Dutch expat, I would like to make this blog more of a survival guide and contemplate about personal observations of specific Dutch cultural traits and traditions. Perhaps it may help fellow expats find happiness in the Low Country.
I look forward for you to join me in this new journey.
