As any idealistic, romantic American, I often grew up dreaming about visiting Italy– Rome, Florence, Sienna and Venice.  Who hasn’t grown up hearing about the Michelangelo’s Statue of David, an exquisite piece of marble considered to be one of the Renaissance’s most renowned masterpieces? 

The Statue of David was of course one of my “must-see attractions” in Florence. Although it was supposedly forbidden to take any pictures, I couldn’t help but take my own personal photograph. I needed to capture the moment, and what better way than with my beloved Canon SLR?

While visiting those famed tourist attractions are a definite must (at least once in your life), straying away the off the beaten path can give you a unique perspective. One could even argue, greater appreciation for the beauty right before your very eyes. One may ask, “Why not go to the place that inspired these Renaissance artists”? Why not for a moment stand in front of the marble mountains that Michelangelo saw with his very own eyes?

With the help of our new found Italian friends, Bram and I just did. 

It was a beautiful hike through the Italian national park with breathtaking nature all around. 

With little breaks to enjoy the succulent, wild sweet forest berries to tickle our appetites and make us dream for more.

And at the end of an unforgettable journey, we all ate an amazing Italian Tuscan meal.

After all,  ”Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but the number of moments that take your breath away” (Alex Hitchens). 

Dutch version: Wijsheid is het zoeken naar antwoorden en ze vinden, soms kan je dat niet alleen, daarvoor heb je vrienden…

Old folks sharing some wisdom to seemingly distressed youth would say, “Sometimes you just have to take the bull by the horn and tell him to leave”. 

After coming back from my unforgettable two-week trip to Italy filled with constant sunshine, one can only imagine how difficult it was for me to come back to the perpetually raining Netherlands. Wouldn’t you go a little crazy if you had to go back to a dark and gloomy world, devoid of any hint of summer when its onlyJuly and August?

My only two saving graces are of course my ever so patient fiance and a very promising internship. By the end August, I was once again suffering from seasonal affective disorder (SAD). Seriously. Shouldn’t SAD be limited to winter days? Apparently not in a country where lack of sunshine is an every day reality all year long.

Keenly aware of my sad disposition, Bram decided to make the most of the “one official day of Dutch summer”, and plan a surprise weekend getaway to Duin and Kruidberg, a 5 star hotel a couple minutes shy of Haarlem but seemingly a world away (http://www.duin-kruidberg.nl/contents/home/66). If we were going to be only blessed with one summer day, why not make the most of it? Bram decided to “take the bull by the horn” and hoped that by leading by example, I too would be able to find more happiness despite the unfortunate weather.

The only instructions I was given the morning of was to pack lightly, bring a swim-suit and something nice to wear later on. It took me a couple of minutes to get over the initial shock of a weekend getaway. Knowing Bram, these getaways are generally thoughtful, sweet, undeniably romantic. 

Our first stop was a picnic in Vondel Park, the largest city park in Amsterdam. I had been given a nice “picnic in the park” gift basket by Bram’s closest friends as a birthday gift in May. All we had to do was to pick up the picnic basket prepared by a cafe/restaurant located in the park…As an indication to just how busy our schedules have been, this was the only opportunity we had to cash-in my birthday present. One should also not forget the fact that the unpredictable often rainy weather also added to the four month delay.

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Nonetheless, the picnic basket was a pleasant surprise-croissants, generous portions of four different french cheeses, salami, crackers,  strawberries, salad, and Swiss chocolates. We were a little tempted to open up the Prosecco, but the warm sun along with an impending drive made us decide against it. Bram ate a large portion of the cheeses while I mischievously had most of the strawberries and chocolates. I really appreciated being out in the park and was even inspired to possibly move to Amsterdam. As much as I could have slept out in the sun in the nice grass, Bram and I had to go and I was already getting a little impatient with the surprise.

 I found myself once again swept off my feet as he drove me to the final destination. Bram definitely knows how to take my breath away, and thats one of the many reasons why I am going to marry him. Low and behold, Duin and Kruidberg Hotel. 

It was a fairy-tale like getaway. Adding to the ambience was the hotel’s customer service, a true novelty in this part of the world. Who wouldn’t feel like a princess here?

Not letting a moment pass by, Bram and I tried not to spend too much time in our hotel room. We spent the rest of the afternoon at the local beach, a 20 minute bike ride away. The only caveat was that you had to ride through a national forest with wandering highlanders.

Warning: Do not try to take a picture with it. I got a little too close to it and it tried to ram me. We were to find out later from our waiter that the animals “are just not right”. How appropriate right? 

    

The night ended with a romantic dinner at the hotel’s Michelin star restaurant, de Frienden van Jacob.To our surprise, an opening at the restaurant was available and we immediately jumped at the opportunity. I must admit that I was a little shy at first–the ambience was formal and I was surrounded by seemingly, uptight, unhappy and bored rich people. But that uneasiness quickly wore off because after all, I was with the Love of My Life. Not to forget to mention, the generous wine pairing with the extravagant, culinary performance. 

Dinner started at 8 and amazingly ended at around 2 in the morning to our inebriated contentment. We had anticipated only 5 courses but ended up getting complementary courses, ultimately enjoying what ended up to be a 9 course meal. After having been to several fancy restaurants in San Francisco, Makati, Philadelphia, Paris, and New York, the “chocolate expedition” was by far the best dessert I’ve ever had.

I came back to reality feeling refreshed, even more in love, and ready to face the next couple hectic months with a more reassured perspective. Afterall, as our Shetland Highlander Cow friend reminded us, “Sometimes you just have to take the bull by the horn”.

 

I have been dreaming of going to Cinque Terre ever since stumbling upon the traveller’s article in the New York Times about three years ago. One can only imagine how I jumped at the opportunity to go the moment Bram suggested a summer vacation was much needed. Since I moved to the Netherlands in May 2007 and faced the consequential moving expenses, there was no opportunity or financial allowance for a holiday. Granted even though we did go back home for Christmas/New Year’s last year and spent a lot of money (too much for me to openly share), I have been trying my best to be “cost-conscious”. After all, learning to pinch pennies is a large part of the Dutch integration process right? Thus, as any cheap “Dutch” couple would do, we decided to drive to Italy.

The logic behind such a strenuous effort of driving was based on the assumption that it would be much more cost-effective to drive rather than the total costs of flying, necessary train tickets, and possibility of a car rental for added convenience. Now keep in mind that this was in light of the $140 gallon of petrol coming to a haunting reality in the middle of July. Gas prices in the US, even in San Francisco, pale in comparison with the exorbitant amount Europeans pay for oil.

Nonetheless, my wonderful cost-conscious Dutch fiance wanted to drive, and who am I to get in his way? One can also argue that camping would also be more in the lines of a Dutch vacation. I must confess that there is only a limit to my “integration” process. I am not ashamed to admit that I am the kind of girl who requires a comfortable bed and nice refreshing shower after a day spent meandering around. I know my limitations. It was approximately another ten hour drive from Glottertal, Germany to Cinque Terre (Monterroso al Mare). Since I was also driving impaired (I cannot drive stick-shift), Bram took full control of his beloved Mazda all throughout the road trip. Fortunately for me, there was also a “navigator” in all its British (programed accent of choice) sas directing Bram’s way. All that was required of me was to sit back and relax while he maneuvered his way through the chaotic German, Swiss and Italian traffic.

We finally arrived at Villa Steno in Monterrosa al Mare, exhausted and hungry but grateful to have arrived with a psuedo-parking spot available. For those who have ever gone to Cinque Terre or are planning on going, are fully aware that driving to Cinque Terre is highly discouraged if not frowned upon. Persistence for the sake of convenience and careful planning definitely paid off for us. Villa Steno, rated as the number one hotel in Cinque Terre according to Trip Advisor, not only provides great accommodations but also coveted and rare parking. Not willing to let a moment go by wasted, we went to a local restaurant recommended by the hotel hostess just a three minute walk away. At first we were a little skeptical because “she heard that it was really good” and momentarily debated whether or not the proprietor of the hotel had given her instructions to do so. We decided to just leave it up to faith and bravely eat our first Italian meal at Alta Marea. And the rest of the night was filled with amazing food, interesting new company, and the warm, but refreshing Ligurian air promising more unforgettable moments.

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).

As of 6 February 2008 (Ash Wednesday), Bram and I have given up all red meat, including poultry and pork, in celebration of the Lenten Season. Being somewhat of a wayward Catholic as well as being of Pilipino descent, this endeavor is certainly challenging.

To make life a little easier, we’ve embraced the world of pescetariansim, consisting of a diet that’s friendly towards fish and other seafood. We must also confess that cheese and eggs are fair game.Have you ever heard of a Pilipino vegetarian? All the traditional Pilipino dishes such as adobo, mechado, pochero, bolalo, sinigang, pinakbet, pancit, lumpia, and lechon include an essential ingredient: beef/veal/pork. Even for breakfast, a Pilipino is delighted with the savory company of longanisa and the smoky sweetness of tosino. If I were living in the Philippines, I am afraid that I might possibly starve to death.

The Dutch are also notorious for their meat consumption, with the appropriate single piece of meat for dinner and various assortments of deli meats for lunch.

While I do love smoked salmon, lobsters, grilled fish, paling eel, and all kinds of tasty treats from the sea, I am afraid that by the time Easter rolls around, I’ll be ravenous for a nice big juicy piece of prime sirloin steak. Not to forget to mention Korean-style barbeque ribs, a homemade grilled hamburger, lamb chops ….

I am counting down the days till the weekend of September 1st, aka Operation Move-In Day. I’ll be moving into a 100 m2 apartment with a complete kitchen, balcony and interesting floor plan (to say the least).

It will be be one stressful move. Its located right in the center where its off limits to cars and has a high population density of shoppers and lost tourists. There will also be a narrow alley and at least three flights of stairs to conquer…

Nonetheless, I’m embracing all the stress with open arms. I’m excited to have a new beginning in a place where I can imagine myself falling in love with, even if its only for a year. =)

I’m also looking forward to the coming Fall semester where there are new opportunities to make new friends, challenged by aloof professors and temptations to travel elsewhere in the Old World.

First Monthly Brunch:
“Gepeco” officially had its first monthly brunch today. While we weren’t able to go to my favorite bakery, we managed to find a suitable substitute that provided make-shift outside seating. Even though the food was average, we were all grateful to enjoy some sun. After all, “summer” in the Netherlands is virtually non-existent. It comes to no surprise that going on holiday is ingrained in the culture-it’s the only opportunity for the Dutch to receive any decent exposure to sunlight. Otherwise, or more accurately, people are inclined to suffer from seasonal affective disorder all year long.

It was really amusing to see these mid to late twenty something boys enthusiastic about the idea of having a monthly brunch. They really are all big teddy bears, never hesitant to enjoy wholesome experiences with one another as they traverse through these awkward
years.

Health Status:

It seems that I really need to start watching my weight again. Despite my 45 minute spinning work-outs three to five times a week, I have gained a solid 7 lbs since arriving in May. That’s three lbs a month! Fortunately, I still “look” in shape, fit into my skinny jeans, and am on the lighter side than last year. I really do need to start moderating my alcohol intake. My goal for now is to loose those 7 lbs and get back into the shape I was in before all the cheese, chocolate, alcohol and side beverages. =)

One of the things I looked forward to during my college and post-bac years was “Sunday” brunch. It was an ideal way for me to indulge myself with the comfort of good food and the company of loved ones. While fairly common in the United States, it seems to lack any popular city in Holland.

One of the things I looked forward to during my college and post-bac years was “Sunday” brunch. It was an ideal way for me to indulge myself with the comfort of good food and the company of loved ones. While fairly common in the United States, it seems to lack any popularity in Holland. Perhaps what I was sentimentally attached to was that Sunday brunch was more than just a gathering of friends and family, but one rooted in tradition.

The Sunday brunch tradition was a specific time set aside each week to escape from the constraints of our own hectic lives. And like all relationships that require care and attention, it was an ideal way to nourish the ties that bind us all together. Sunday brunch was not only a weekly event that people looked forward to, but one that easily took a life of its own. It was a platform for nostalgia, a collection of memories rich with laughter and consolation. Sunday Brunch was a place where it was perfectly okay to be human, to commiserate with family and friends of life’s troubles, of one’s dreams, and the simple joys that enriched our daily lives.

A “Sunday” brunch tradition that has come close to my heart is the one I enjoyed with my adopted Jewish family in Philadelphia. Sensing my own need for a family centered environment, a kind group of retired Jewish Americans closely affiliated with the Philadelphia Sports Club (PSC) in Society Hill invited me to their own Sunday brunch. We would head over to Zeke’s Deli after an intensive spinning workout coached by non-other than my adopted dad Steve. I would always order the Kippered Salmon, a Jewish-American specialty consisting of a specially prepared smoked salmon steak, fresh everything bagel, healthy helping of cream cheese, tomatoes, onion, cumbers, and lettuce. According to them, I was an honorary “Jew”, fully incorporated into their world and they would have it no other way. I always got a healthy dose of encouragement and advice from people who seemed to have really lived life.

When I had my heartstrings ripped into pieces and my world seemingly come to an end, Steve, Judy, and Eric insisted on Sunday brunch where they tenderly and steadily put it back together. At the end of the meal, I was ready to believe in true love again, had a greater sense of my self, and ready to ambitiously conquer the world. And when I finally had to say goodbye to my beloved adopted family, it was over brunch with conversation revolving around the limitless possibilities of the future, and my gratitude for everything they’ve done for me.

I really do hope to start a Sunday brunch tradition in my new country. Below are pictures of my first humble beginnings at a tradition I hope to instill among my new Dutch companions. =)