A heavy Sunday

It has been a stormy Sunday morning spent reading, drinking coffee, listening to forgotten music and thinking. Uh oh.

On the topic of happiness: If I were George Michael circa 1985, I would be wearing a t-shirt that said, "CHOOSE LIGHT." It is a conscious decision for me to laugh and keep things simple and light, and that makes the days in Amsterdam brighter, but that doesn't mean I am happier here or that I have stopped being serious on the inside. I still need my days of melancholy and hours of staring out at nothing. I know that there are people in this world who don't wrestle with phantoms, and perhaps they are the true happy ones, but I am not one of them. If I deny the dark parts of me in an effort to appear constantly sunny (for whose benefit?) I deny the part of me that feels and experiences a deeper part of life. And those deeper feelings and experiences bring me a profound happiness. What I am learning is that it is possible to be sunny and serious at the same time and that happiness, for me, may be much more about peace of mind than anything else.

On the topic of loss: I realize that I didn't lose everything from the past few years because my memories of the people and places and pets that I loved are still clear. My years were not wasted just because the end was painful. When I was at the market yesterday, waiting for my fish to be cleaned, I heard the Simon and Garfunkel song, "America" playing from the DVD booth. Jeff and I listened to my vinyl copy of "Bookends" lots and lots in the months around 9/11, and I had downloaded the song just last week in a moment of nostalgia. To hear it again, after not hearing it for years, while in the middle of a uniquely "Katie's-life-in-Amsterdam" experience brought my past and my present together in a weirdly wonderful way. Though he is gone, there are years of shared moments that are still important to me and I don't want to bury those memories any more -- I want to honor the good times we had. A gentle, peaceful Jeff has been showing up in my dreams a lot lately - the guy who was happy staring at nothing in the middle of nowhere - and he keeps telling me goodbye. I look forward to the day when I can gently and peacefully tell that favorite version of the man I loved goodbye too. I am getting there.

On the topic of trips: I am taking Tom to Prague for a long weekend next month and then LeeAnne and I are spending a week in Spain in October. Prague will be fascinating to see through different eyes (both his first-time view and my second-time with a fair amount of additional knowledge view) and I am certain just as beautiful as I remember. And Spain will be fabulous. If anyone has Barcelona or Seville suggestions, I'd be glad to get them. And we can all look forward to a week of (e)Spanish cheeses. Muy bueno! Muy delicioso!

Phun with photos

I made a concerted effort last Sunday to take photos of the normal details of Amsterdam life, and to learn more about what my camera can do lens, shutter and colour-wise. So sit back and enjoy a little tour.

This is a boat moored on the canal next to my apartment. Though the blur makes it hard to see (I didn't say the camera affects were all GOOD), the red and white umbrella is freaking adorable. The red and white plastic bags you get when you buy produce at the markets are freaking adorable too.


The "I amsterdam" campaign is all over the city. This sign in on Museumplein, in front of the Rijks and VanGogh museums and is either loved or hated by people who live here because it is huge and in English and quite blatant. I like it.

And the following:
Giant chessboard by the Leidesplein.

Street scene.

Bridge detail.

I must give a shout out to Ms. Stacy Bolt, who included "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" on her most excellent farewell music compilation "Amsterdamn!" I did a chair dance and Diana Ross-worthy lip-synch while grinning like a mad woman and wiping away happy tears. Thanks lady.

Gay Day

Amsterdam hosts the largest Gay Pride celebration in the world, so I donned my pink feather boa and motorcycle boots and went forth to soak the fabulousness in.


There is a massive boat parade on the Prinsengracht canal that an estimated 35,000 people watch from the bridges and alongside the water. I got to see the parade from a lovely top-floor apartment right on the canal -- enjoying cocktails and food while waving at the boys and girls from above. The floats were essentially giant dance parties with great outfits.

Some notes from the field:
- One float had men dressed in Rembrant-era neck ruffs and short shorts.

- The float with older (much older) men and women who were dancing in pink polo shirts and rainbow leis was a classy and dignified contrast to the youngsters on the other boats. It was charming and very heartening to see.

- This was a family event, meaning that Dutch families (moms, dads and kids) were out on their small boats watching the parade go by. It was a joyful and entertaining event and it was nice to see people just enjoying the energy without judgment or fear.

And me? I wound up dancing on a stage and having a blast and then drunk dialed my parents when I got home. Cuz that’s the way I roll.

Kröller-Müller

On Wednesday, Heidi and I made plans to spend Saturday at the Kröller-Müller museum. It is well outside of Amsterdam, but Heidi had heard great things about it, and getting out of town sounded lovely. I went to the web site and looked up the directions for getting to the museum by train, and I thought I had it all planned out when we met at Central Station this morning at 11:45.

Cut to 4pm, when we actually arrived at the park. By that time we had:

- Missed the first train because I had to buy bread and cheese at the station market for the "hour" long ride. OK, there was wine to buy too, but that didn't have anything to do with anything other than fulfilling my romantic notions of what a train picnic should include. Drinking the wine directly from the bottle wasn't so romantic, but that's another story...

- Caught the next train half an hour later, but overshot the stop where we were, apparently, supposed to switch trains. Heidi asked the conductors standing on the platform what we should do, and they said, “Take this one,” pointing to the train in front of us. We went to get on, but something told me to ask if we had to change trains again after this stop. They said -- completely deadpan, “Yes. You will need to change trains at the next station.” Good to know. And that is the Dutch system of communication in a nutshell. You’ll get 85% of the information you need, but you’ll have to guess what questions to ask in order to get the remaining 15%.

- Finally reached the Apeldoorn train station after about 2 1/2 hours, and went to catch the bus to the museum. In the information station, the woman told us, after laughing at our pronunciation of the museum name, the bus ride takes half an hour, comes once an hour, and we just missed it.

- Thrown a hissy fit and almost went back to Amsterdam, but went instead to use the WC (.50 cents), where I couldn’t find the button to flush the toilet, and a woman who had already paid for HER turn and opened the door as I was pushing anything that resembled a button. Heidi couldn’t find the button in her WC either, so we had a bit of a laugh as the woman hurried me out because, “I paid 50 cents and can’t close the door now because I will have to pay again.” So I gave up my stall and walked quickly away.

- Caught the bus and learned that we would have to transfer to a small, white bus, after about 30 minutes. Fine. Fine. Whatever. We got off the bus when the driver told us (after passing some really cool houses) and boarded a small bus, telling the driver where we wanted to go. By this point we thought we’d just go to the national part that surrounds the museum, since the Kröller-Müller closed at 5. So we told the driver we wanted to go to Hoge Veluwe park and he said, “OKAY! I can take you there.” We drove for about 10 minutes and then saw the same buildings go by. He drove us in a circle! Seriously! About 500 metres past the point where we started, we arrived at the park and the fun really began.

Everything about the museum was amazing – the architecture, the collection, the sculpture garden, everything. I went in with a grumpy attitude and came out completely jazzed about life. We didn’t have much time there, so I want to go back when I can enjoy the whole place at a slow pace.

The park has over 1500 free white bikes that you can use while you are there. After we left the museum we got on bikes and rode about 10 kilometers to the other side of the park in search of food. We went through forests that smelled like Black Butte in summer and big meadows and, surprisingly, a desert! With sand dunes! Where the heck did that come from?

The restaurant we ended up at only offered a 24.95 all you can eat and drink buffet, which we were so excited about. We ate outside on the patio and enjoyed many sub-par but still strangely satisfying trips to the food bar. Lots more fish offered in the Dutch buffet than at a typical American one. But there was still soft-serve ice cream, so it wasn’t completely different.

The ride home was much easier, as we caught a bus about 200 meters away from the restaurant that took us directly to the central station in another town, where we caught a direct express train to Amsterdam. We got back in a little more than an hour. All told, a great day.

Here's to good friends...

Being away from my friends is the hardest part of this journey. I knew that it would be difficult, but I had no idea how much it would hurt my heart. Though I am over here, part of me is still sitting in a dark restaurant or a sunny courtyard, laughing and gossiping and waxing poetic over a glass of something with my girls (and the odd boy). My friends are amazing, smart, funny and kind. They are patient and tolerant and incredibly special. I am so lucky and so blessed.

You will be happy to hear that, when I was out with work people last week, one of my new friends said, "The best part of going out with Katie is that you never know what she is going to say, but you know it is going to be good." Later in the night, the count of random things I said in all seriousness, but seemed to strike people as funny (why??) was up to 10 and included my feelings toward Tony Blair and John Cleese and my affinity for gay porn. Apparently I was on fire.

And so, my friends, I am the same -- as randomly entertaining to people here as I was there -- but they aren't the same as you and I haven't told you nearly enough how much I love you.

On a serious note: two amazing people I worked with in Portland lost their son last week. Please send some love out into the universe for them.

Bits and pieces

another end to another night...


Thought I would spend odd moments reporting little things about life in Amsterdam that may not be subject line worthy on their own, but are part of a larger, entertaining, entry.

- there are about 10 cats that live around my terrace. They circle the yard on top of the fences and stare at me from the rooftops of garden sheds and buildings. Like I did with soccer players during World Cup, I have made up names for each based on their appearance (the cats have far nicer names than the players). One cat is named Hitler: white face (no duh) and black triangle hair cutting at a 45 degree angle across the forehead and one ear. And a perfect rectangle mustache. I think that Hitler gets hassled regularly by the skinny black cat named Big Balls.

- apparently I have a vase obsession. I moved four over with me, but they are more decorative than usable, so I had to buy two more once I got here, which is nothing to be ashamed of. I have lots of white space to fill! And flowers are plentiful and cheap! But then I ran to the Monday flea market and found three more -- mid-century West German vases in all sorts of colors and sizes. So now I have nine vases. No soap dishes, mind you. But nine vases.

- have I talked yet about the heat wave? It has been hot and humid for about two weeks -- temps well in to the 80s every day. Some of you may scoff, as I know it has been very hot in other places, but the humidity is crazy and I have canals all around me whose water is starting to get funky. I am not one to complain about the weather, especially hot weather, but I am getting bored of having a permanent sweat mustache.

- it was so good to see Heidi last Sunday. We had a very civilized lunch in my apartment and then wandered around the museum district and then to a cafe. As we sang, "Wig in a Box" at full volume from my dining room table, I realized that I am the same person I was -- the same person I like -- from Portland. And as a direct result, this week was the first week that I really felt comfortable and part of things here. I am relaxing a bit and dancing a little more at random moments. And I sang out loud on my bike ride in this morning. Lovely.

Tom's trip to Amsterdam

I asked Tom to write something for the blog, and this is what he sent.

As some of you know I was lucky enough to be in Amsterdam with Katie for 10 days and the following is my completely unbiased view of what I saw during my travels.

As I got out of the car from the airport (provided by Katie) a second story window opened and what appeared to wave at me could only be described as an angel. The ethereal vision that opened said window turned out to be my Katie. It may have been jet lag but I'm fairly certain I saw 2 doves fly out behind her.

I cannot believe how much Amsterdam (and Europe as a whole) agrees with Katie. She looked beautiful as always but the main thing I noticed was how relaxed she appeared. There is a calmness in her that I caught glimpses of in the past but now is there all the time. She looks happy and healthy and once again...beautiful.

Her apartment rocks completely! It has high ceilings in the living room and outside has all the makings of a kick ass garden. She immediately kyboshed my suggestion to put in artificial turf and a badmitton net. It has 2 floors and if she had the same apartment in New York it would probably rent for $5000 per month. In what must be described as a monumental effort of self control Katie has used a minimalist touch to the walls of the apartment. They are huge and white and when you sit on her furniture you get a sense of peace. As I stated before...the place rocks. I know where she will be when I call her on a Sunday afternoon...staring outside at the foliage.

Katie's friends from work are very very cool. Most of them Brits with the occasional New Zealander and the token American thrown in for good measure. They seem genuinely fond of her and that feeling is returned on her part. They can drink. And smoke (cigarettes). And drink. They are a lot of fun to hang around with. I met them at an outdoor pub after work (her workday - my days were spent getting lost on a bicycle) one day and they were funny, a little crazy and a lot cool. One girl even brought us to her favorite bar which she never took anyone else to. Katie called this the "Grey Gardens" bar. It was a trip.

In her previous blog Katie mentioned something about us going to a coffee shop. I have no idea what she is talking about. I spent most of my time at church.

I will not ramble on anymore but I will say this: In my opinion Katie made the perfect move going to Amsterdam. No matter where she goes after this her time spent in Amsterdam will be something that stays with her forever.

what a guy...

Sunshine

Yesterday was a company party, so the entire office spent the day at a lake about an hour and a half outside of Amsterdam. It was a beautiful, hot day with swimming, jet skiing (with excellent instruction - I went around the loop once, decided that was enough excitement, promptly fell into the water and floated around for five minutes while the rest of my group kept going -- it was great) and most exciting, a zip line that went from a VERY TALL tower, over the water and to the shore on the other side. I overcame my fear of heights and forced myself to do it. When I got to the end, I kept yelling, "I did it! I did it! I did it!" Very cool.

After the day of activities (we couldn't drink if we wanted to do them), we had cocktails and a DJ and a samba band and a bon fire and dinner and hot tubs and hair and make up people and lots and lots of dancing. It was amazing.

Here is a photo of me watching the sun go down over the lake from the top deck of the fake pirate ship they had moored to the dock. Forgive the purple drag shadow on my half-mast eyes. I was clearly under the influence of flight.

The view out my window

I had my first dinner party of sorts last night and this was the view from my dining room table at midnight.

The week that was...

My apologies for being a bit lax on the blog-front. It has been a lovely week of love and loving and sunshine and rainbows and unicorns and fuzzy kittens 'n stuff. And delightful cheese.

Saturday: Tom and I went to Albert Cuyp market and bought the makings for a picnic in the park. It was unexpectedly warm and sunny, so we spent a few hours lying on the grass, drinking wine, eating chicken and these amazing tomatoes stuffed with feta and herbs and reading our books. After months of hurrying through our visits with each other, it felt like a giant luxury to just sit with each other and be lazy in the sunshine.

Sunday: We went to the Van Gogh museum and I had to do some work, so the afternoon wasn't as picturesque as I wanted it to be. We walked up to the Jordaan to watch the WC finals with a bunch of people from work. The head butt that was heard around the world! There was yelling and cheering and Tom comforted a despondent Frenchman after it was all over. We wound up having kebabs and falafel at midnight and taking the tram back home in the early hours.

Monday: Tom rented a bike and quickly started taking off to parts unknown. He has been fearless and has seen much more of Amsterdam than I have. After work we went to a coffee shop with some friends from work and I realized why Amsterdam is so mellow. Good fun. Sorry mom.

Tuesday: I went to a salon to have my hair cut and colored and wound up with a fabulous new 'do. The Parisians -- they aren't much for zee conversation, but they are zee wizards with zee scissors. You know you are no longer on vacation when you start forming relationships with new beauty providers.

Wednesday: Tom went to a place called, "Electric Lady Land." It is a museum of UV light run by an old hippie from New Jersey. He told very funny stories about it over drinks with some of my fellow project managers. We went to a bar later that was so completely "Grey Gardens" I thought Little Edie would descend from the spiral staircase waving Dutch flags and doing a little dance. And then there were late-night tapas, where I thought it would be a great idea to use my Castilian Spanish with the owner. I thought I was fabulous. The owner, he was less than impressed.

And yesterday was another nice day. We did a little shopping after work because shops are open late on Thursday (until 8pm) and then went to yet another old bar for a drink before heading home for dinner. Tonight we are going to see a photography show at Foam gallery (http://www.foam.nl/) and then for a glass of something with Heidi - my friend from Portland who picked up and came over to Europe in search of adventure.

This weekend Tom and I are planning on riding out of the city to Haarlem or the beach and then chill out on Sunday. He leaves on Monday morning and I am back to being just me. It will be ok -- he will come back.

My first visitor

Tom arrived this morning and reacted with the proper shock and awe when he saw my new place. And he brought the latest issues of "Lucky" and "Domino" with him, which made his arrival all the sweeter. It is funny to have someone to show around, though he is currently showing himself around while I work, suddenly I have a sense of ownership of my surroundings. I am excited to see his reaction to the canal ring in the evening (amazing light), see his first glimpse of the museumplein coming from de Pijp (for some reason, very impressive), sit and drink a beer and watch people go by (when two people do it, it's entertainment. when one person does it, it's stalking), and on and on.

I'm OK! I'm OK

Thanks for your thoughts and virtual hugs. I am better now. Moved in to the new place this weekend and am busy getting it together. I don't have any internet access from home yet, so I am a bit out of the loop, but I will try to keep this up to date from work, when I can.

It is very warm here and I spent a few hours in my new garden sitting in the sun and reading my book. That makes everything better. And fresh strawberries from the market -- they make everything better too. And a comfortable mattress -- that helps. And watching football with lots of people from work and having a neighbor who is excited to show me around and IKEA on a Friday night -- all those things are good and sustaining and keep me moving forward.

Photos of the apartment to come. Thanks again for the love. Right back at you!

A ton of bricks

And so it hits...
I was ironing a skirt this morning when I realized that the last time I had worn it had been on a sunny April Friday when I took Pepper to work with me. I remember walking her back up to the office after visiting the park blocks and how she pranced along right beside me and was so happy. At one point I looked down and she looked up and, as cheesey (keeping with the theme) as it sounds, I know she was loving me as much as I was loving her. I can't believe she isn't mine anymore. I can't believe that I am never going to have her sit on my lap or put her head on my shoulder when I am driving. I can't stop crying and I have to go to work in 10 minutes. I miss my life, I miss my friends, I miss my family, I miss my dog, I miss having people around who get me and like me anyway, I miss Portland, I miss routine, I miss it all. I don't want to start over anymore. I want my dog back and I want my life back and I want to come home. I'm not nearly as brave or strong as any of you gave me credit for -- at least not right now.

And, if any of you are new, Pepper was my dog. Now she is someone else's dog.

No matter where you go

The baggage comes with you. I wonder what it would have been like to be an expat in my 20s, mostly because I would have had the capacity and desire to be wilder then, and I sort of feel like a boring old woman amidst the sheer volume of alcohol consumption by my coworkers. I want to go out and be social, but I just can't keep up and I like sleeping far more than I like being loud in a smokey bar. And I miss going out to dinner. People don't really seem to do that here and I outgrew the liquid dinner diet about the same time my lactose intolerance (aka - the dark days) ended and I rediscovered cheese. I am just not a huge party girl and I am sort of in a party atmosphere right now.

I move in to my new apartment this weekend, which will be fabulous. My things arrive from Portland on Tuesday and for the first time in years and years, I will have my own place. I can't wait. There will be photos, though I won't have internet access for a while. If you believe what people say, the act of having cable hooked up in Amsterdam is a study in frustration and sheer amazement. Everyone keeps warning me about how bad Dutch service is and how "It's not possible" should be the national motto, but I haven't encountered anything that bad yet. Rest assured, I will write about it when it happens.

Brussels ain't no chopped liver

Just got back from my first adventure beyond the borders of Amsterdam. Here are some highlights and photos:

- Watching a series of five modern windmills come forward on the horizon. At first, they seemed to be in a straight line, then, as the train got closer, they looked like they were clumped together, and then, as the train moved, they moved apart again. And the coolest thing was that each set of blades moved separately, but each one was perfectly timed to the different tempos of "Blue Rondo A La Turk."

- The number of statues in Brussels freaked me out. Seriously. From every major art movement and of every major event for hundreds of years. I was amazed at the amount of Art Nouveau next to modernist next to baroque next to neo-classical and mixed in with overblown ornate architecture next door to Bauhaus and post-war architecture. It wasn't beautiful, but at the same time it was. It functional despite the form, which is a whole conversation for another time.

- I took myself out to dinner last night and used my peu du conversational French for the first time in a long time. Unfortunately, I stopped reading after "risotto avec champignons" and didn't bother to translate "y foie de boeuf." It wasn't bad -- I would for sure go back just to try more of the food.

- The art museum is fantastic. They had three Chagall’s in one of the galleries, including "Clair de Lune." I sat on a bench opposite from it, played Debussy on my iPod and stared and stared. And then I wandered around the surrealist gallery listening to Tom Waits.

Patriotism in the pitch

I watched the England vs. Sweden game at an Irish (??) pub that was filled with British ex-pats cheering their loudest and getting all testosteroney with football fever. It was a sight to behold -- hot, a bit smelly, very noisy and very, for lack of a better word, passionate. Green Bay's Styrofoam cheese hats have nothing on the English soccer fan.

And so today, when the USA played Ghana in its must-win game, I sat in front of the television at work and allowed myself a bit of patriotic internal flag waving. It felt good to cheer for my team simply because they were my team and that anthem at the beginning of the game was my anthem and that dork in the stands wearing an American flag and a chicken beak mask was one of my countrymen (zoinks!). Perhaps I am too judgmental of those who are AMERICAN with a capital A -- talking loudly with wide-eyed innocence and wonder at how different things are here from there (like there is the land of normal and here is some freakish place where the wine is cheaper) -- perhaps I am missing out on something great by not embracing my national identity 24/7. But how can I be proud of being an American when I am not proud of America? And why is it that I assume that these wide-eyed Americans who talk too loudly and point out too many differences are all sheltered neo-cons?

Enough about that. Bettine Geitenkaas Honing 45+ is a sweet, soft cheese that is delicious on sandwiches. It tastes a little like cream cheese only sooooo much better.

Shocking development!

When I went to the market on Saturday morning (alright -- a little worse for wear after the Netherlands game the night before), I was repulsed by the smell of cheese. Never has that happened before, and, frankly, it scared me a little bit.

Fortunately I overcame my temporary cheese phobia with yesterday's lunch: a sandwich consisting of chorizo sausage (not WinCo chorizo sausage with red dye #495, but excellent and real sausage), black olive tapenade (yum!) and thick slices of goat cheese.

Hee!

New neighborhoods to wander

Yesterday I went on my first housing tour and saw seven apartments -- all of which would have been fine to move in to. One place is very cool, very grown up, very modern and fab, very Domino magazine (hint to my friends with access to free copies + interoffice mail) and I am going to try and get it come Monday. I walked down to the neighborhood today (another beautiful day here in sunny Amsterdam) to get a sense of the people and tone on a weekend, and sort of developed a crush. Nothing is decided yet, but I feel like I am making good progress.

Merci Madam Kreis

Note to the kids: if anyone tells you that French is a dying language and not to bother taking it in school, don't believe them.

The naan was delicious.

Tipsy shopping bag

Here's the story. I left work and came back to my apartment to trade my work bag for my shopping bag because I was determined to go to the grocery store this evening. I walked to the store that I visited on Sunday, only to find it closed for major restoration. I was one of many people who were surprised by this - seriously, in the span of a minute I saw at least 13 people approach the store and look confused. I decided to go to my closer, but smaller market, but not before I went on a walk along the canal. Imagine my surprise when I heard my name called after walking for a while. I turned and saw some lovely co-workers waving me over. Apparently they had tried to reach me after I left the office, but I had no way of knowing that. I just crossed their path. So here's a drink (or 10) to serendipity. And here's to white wine. And here's to grocery shopping after many glasses and good company.

Here is what I brought home with me (written as I unpack my shopping bag and taste everything):

Vanilla ice cream {nearly brought me to tears with happiness}
Fresh green beans {whatever}
Ardenner pate {pretty good. very mild. don't know what ardenner is, but I am a supporter}
Patak's Original (an authentic Indian recipe) Naan {crap! the preparation instructions are in Dutch, French, German and Italian -- I am screwed}
Butter {every recipe in the Silver Spoon cookbook calls for it}
Zaal Kaas cheese {mild. very milky. a comfort food cheese. don't know if I would bother with it again}
Two fresh peaches {whatever}
Danish Blue 50+ cheese {dying. soooooo good. on a tall cloud of flavour looking down on the world and singing a happy song of joy titled, "Cheese, how I love thee." If this cheese was a dark cave, I would overcome my fear of enclosed places and move in.}