Lowlands

Lowlands is a three day music festival that takes place about 2 hours outside Amsterdam each August. The acts are top-notch, but since it typically involves camping, I said no no no. But this year I was given a day guest pass because ...,staat designed a giant (and so cool) compound for Converse. Sunday I gathered my camera and Chucks and took the train down for a day of wandering and photography. It was a great, great time with a superb performance by Yeasayer and lots of enjoying the special treatment that the special "Guest" wristband gave me. More than once I found myself wondering how I got there and marveling at my continued good fortune.

The entrance to Lowlands. Deer! Guns! Good!

Fantastic swamp things drinking Veuve Clicquot in the guest area.

Sneaker pimping in the Converse compound.

Funny puppet. He traveled with his wife puppet and heckled the crowd in a posh English accent.

Cotton candy leads the way. Woo hoo!!

Universal truth: you have to love the guy in the chicken suit dancing to bluegrass music.

Public toilets that I didn't have to use because I was doing the "Guest Pass Gives Access to Nice Bathrooms" dance.

More fantastic numbers

Gup covered the walls between areas of the festival with daily photo uploads.

A Hunter S. Thompson sort riding along with a disco DJ parade.

Lead man from Yeasayer. Their set completely blew my mind.

The Guest/Press tent. Oh how sweet it is to have perks.

Me. With a very 70s shag and camera.

A day out in (transport) Maastricht

What? Color on the buildings? Shocking!!

I just saw Tom flail his arms around and nearly fall off the couch because a fly flew by his head. And this morning Rabito was so excited when Tom got up to take him out that he jumped up and promptly fell down flat on his belly with a loud bang. I live in a house of funny.

After far too many weekends staying in Amsterdam, Tom and I took a day trip to the town of Maastricht in the sound of the Netherlands on Saturday. As is the norm when we travel, there were transportation issues. How could we know that there was work on the tracks and we would have to get off the train at Utrecht and take a 45-minute bus ride to re-catch a train? Or that the train labeled "Maastricht" wasn't actually a train to Maastricht, but instead a train you take to another stop where you had to get off and get on another train? It was silly and has provided some good dinner party conversation because stories about your fellow travelers are always interesting.

Especially if:
- a man gets on the train after you and sits directly across the aisle, staring intensely at your dog. When I acknowledge him, he tells me that he has been away from his dog for three months because he has been in prison. I debate whether or not to let Rabito cross over to him, but figure why not. He pets the dog, Rabito wags his tail, he pets the dog again, Rabito decides he is a bit too needy and comes back over to me and stays firmly out of reach. And after a few minutes of the man begging the dog to come closer, the man leaves. We saw him get off the train a few stops later and he didn't seem in too much a hurry to see his dog again, judging from the amount of time he was spending drinking a beer and talking to some guy in a car who was waiting outside the stop.

- on the 45 minute bus ride, you get the only two remaining seats together, behind an old couple. The man has leaned his seat all the way back, so his head is almost against my chest. You know when old people have white hair that is sort of yellow underneath? He had that. And some dandruff. He and his wife got out some soft cookies to eat, emphasis on soft, because they didn't have teeth! They gummed the cookies, which involves A LOT of jaw movement. I was fascinated. Better than tv.


The town was very pretty and looked quite different than Amsterdam. There was a plethora of skinny women in white jeans and ballet flats, which signaled its proximity to Belgium and France. It is good to know that the love of olive green and cheap vinyl shoes is perhaps more regional than national. We walked around, oggled a Roman wall, Rabito met goats and chickens when we stumbled upon a mini zoo of sorts, saw many churches and Catholic ephemera on our wanders (the south is Catholic and much different than the Protestant north -- a bit loosened up and decorative), and had a generally lovely day.

My sister had to put Shandy the Wonder Dog to sleep yesterday, which is very sad. Shandy was a great dog and she will be missed. I am sorry for my sissy because it was a very hard decision, but she did the right thing.

Shandy the Wonder Dog (right) and Pepper during the days of sisters and pets.

And now for something completely different

For the first time ever in my entire life, I am putting someone else's needs before mine.

9/8th's of the people reading this will be smirking right now amidst the whole "it'sabouttime"ness of it all, and the remaining 1/8? Sorry to tell you, but I am a completely selfish brat. My smile and jazz hands might have distracted you up to this point, but it is very true. But not in a particularly bad way...I like to think I am a super fun selfish brat that distracts you from your usual world and causes you to buy impractical garments.

Tom is more important than anything I have ever had or anyone I have ever known. So for him I keep going and plan on staying in Amsterdam for who knows how long. Sigh. I am so ready to go back and put down some roots and experience being in New York for the first time, closer to family and friends but still writing new chapters in my life book. But. BUT! The experience of staying for someone else is a new chapter too because, as I have already said, I have never done anything for anyone else on any long term level. And who knows what this will uncover. As I write this I am listening to a play list made while living here and wonder what other bands will I discover by working around crazy creative Eurofabulous people. And the jaw-dropping nature of the vast number of Dutch artists and photographers I am exposed to on a daily basis. And working around fashion, which is like Charlie going to the chocolate factory. Not to mention learning what it is like to put myself second for once. There is a jewel out there, I know, and it will take me being unlike me to find it.

At the end of this strange rainbow will be me walking down some pathway toward Tom and a figure who channels God's goodness. And we will look at each other and proclaim our love to the heavens and promise never to let go ever ever ever, followed by dancing. The trials we have had here make that vision all the more exciting because it will be a day a serious celebration. Growth and change and compromise and sacrifice and being humbled and being so freaking lucky and another Amsterdam winter and another Amsterdam spring and friends moving away and happiness just the two of us and enduring and keeping yourself for moments of strength are all reasons to lift a glass and sing a happy tune. I can not wait.

Whatever Tommy needs, I want to give to him. This ask is tiny. And this is love.

brilliant

So simple, beautiful and well done.

Gay Day #3

Not as many drag queens as last year, but the canal parade was still full of shiny goodness. And aging bears in tiny black shorts. And Sinter Klas with a boatload of gay assistants. And lots of rainbows. Enjoy!

Love the exuberance in rainbow afro wigs. Why can't every day be like this?

What makes our shockingly un-PC holiday even more un-PC?

Drag queen in pink. Hot! But looks a little like Tony Clifton...

That diva bitch in black was FIERCE mmmkay!

These bodies were not hot.

Crazy, crazy days. Work is busy, but not overwhelmingly so, and I have been enjoying some summer days and evenings with friends. Last weekend was fairly fabulous -- a fashion week party on Friday, the arrival of Nicola on Sunday, a fashion show on Sunday and then a baby shower for my friend Vanessa on Sunday afternoon. I felt very fancy. This weekend is another big one: celebrating Marco and Pasquale's birthdays, Gay Pride day on Saturday -- my favorite parade of all time, and Sunday the summer flea market in the north. And that is all I have for now. Hopefull there will be many more photos after this weekend of feathers and leathers!

I made it into another blog!

http://www.360fashion.typepad.com/aifw/

A blog about Amsterdam International Fashion Week, the project that consumed my days and nights last week. If you scroll down, you can find me looking furtive in a euro-scarf, trying to capture client feedback at 11:30 at night. The good news is the paper we produced came out on time and looking beautiful. All was worth while in the end!!

And speaking of fashion, I love Karl Lagerfeld. I just do. A sign on the company toilet says, "Pissing everywhere isn't very Chanel," which sort of sums it all up for me. Here are some photos from the recent Chanel show of two things I covet. A white Chanel wrist bag? Yes! A black and white stunner that needs at least a foot more material on the end to make useful? Sure!
If you can't tell, I am seriously enjoying myself!

Rabito goes to the beach

This was our first trip to the beach with Rabito and we learned quickly that he loved the sand. With his face. Those tubes are the North Sea version of razor clams.
Happy, happy dog.

If pioneer women quit...

I'd have grown up in Kansas.

Hee hee hee. I am fine and feeling really good for getting through (the only way out...thank you uncle carl!) the mire. I understand more conversations now and am making substantial progress, so there is lots of hope. Wee!

Mile 19

I am all up in my own self-pity grill right now, so stop reading if you don't want to scoff. Because my rant is super scoff worthy.

A number of years ago, I completed the Portland Marathon. I had trained all summer to walk the course very fast, but when the event was happening, I found myself running, though I wasn't a runner, and walking way beyond my usual pace. Apparently this is called "race adrenaline" and as far as phenomena go, it is a bastard. Yea sure, you are cruising along at mile 5, 9 or 14, wading amidst the hubris as you look at your branded watch and think, "At this pace I will finish in time to watch the back to back "90210" episodes on USA and eat a lasagna! And still do the laundry and roast a chicken!" Or something (not at all) like that. It all felt great and powerful and uplifting and superhuman.

Until mile 19 when the wall crashed down on my swollen head. "How does that feel Cocky McGee?" it said while dangling a bottle of Advil in front of my face.

"Ow," I said.

Really. It was not just pain, but also a feeling of absolute exhaustion. My muscles turned into 20 pound lumps of Play Doh and I realized, at this mile, that the strap of my jog bra (sorry! I hate that term, but what am I going to use in its place? Athletic support? Jock brassier?) had rubbed my shoulder raw. I was not going to make it, feeling the way I felt. No freakin way.

But I did. At mile 20 was my old house, with Advil and a Bloody Mary waiting for me. My friend Warren, a marathon veteran, was there, and wouldn't let me sit down, but did let me chug a cocktail before sending me on my way. And you know, by mile 21, I felt much better. I actually ran mile 24, managed the last bit by sheer determination and teared up when crossing the finish line. It was so worth it, and something I swore I would never do again.

Until I decided I'd take a job in an office that works in another language. Yea. That was smart! It was arrogance that made me think I could slip into Dutch without too much work and it was 8 hours of mile 19 that made me want to quit today. But my friend Marco here is my friend Warren there and he gave me quite a talking to tonight (while sitting on the sun deck of Musikgebouw overlooking the Ij -- so pretty). Apparently we Americans believe so much in ourselves that we are shocked when we can't do something perfectly and tend to quit rather than struggle. "Europeans," he said, "are quite honest about their failings, which shows our humanity and allows us not to put so much pressure on ourselves." Interesting. He convinced me that stopping now would cause me great regret later. This is a guy who speaks seven languages, so I am not going to argue with his wisdom. But I do want to quit, even though I know I won't.

Learning a language while working full time and spending all non-working time with my English-speaking people is quite difficult, and I hope I remember that when feeling frustration toward non-English speakers who live in the US. It isn't school, where you have set time periods devoted to studying. This is more trying to remember the word for "Less" while grabbing some chicken to make for dinner before the grocery closes at 8. It is very hard, but I hope very worth it. Will I get a commemorative medal when it is all over? Perhaps a free container of yoghurt and a complementary banana? Only time will tell.

Homework break - geek style

Tom and I just lipsynched "The Kid Is Hot Tonight," by Loverboy during halftime of the Turkey vs. Germany match and while I was in a good stopping point from the Dutch studies. I was resplendent in a dishtowel (clean) headband and holding a wooden spoon microphone. Tom rocked the air guitar. Is there any wonder why I love this man so much?

Brain stretch

It has been a long ass time since my brain ached. Proper eyes blurring, head numb, justonemoreandthenI'lltakeabreak, ache. And it is the best feeling in the world. I love it. Class yesterday was good -- I am one of six students, and while my Dutch isn't the best, it isn't the worst, though my lack of vocabulary is shocking to me. How I thought I could learn an entire dictionary of words by osmosis and sporadic "classes" is beyond me. The reality of learning and the effort required to do it, came back with a vengeance yesterday as I spent four solid hours on homework with a grin on my face. Fantastic. Honestly I was the happiest student in the world! I went to a cafe, spread my books out over a big table by the window and proceeded to translate every single word I didn't know before filling in the blanks or circling the opposite adjective on the worksheets. It took a long time and produced four pages of Dutch words and their definitions -- all written in a newly purchased notebook and with a newly purchased pen, which I think will help me learn faster, don't you? Now I can say things like, "Rustig aan!" and "Heb je een goedkoop trui?" which are not complex sentences, but use words I didn't know yesterday morning when I got up. And that is why I love learning so much; my brain will have new and different things in it tonight that it has never had in it before. The only big difference between today and the last time I was a student of anything but life and shoe trends is it takes a bit more time to make my brain remember what it learned today, yesterday, last week, an hour ago, or five minutes from now. Oh well. It just means I will be keeping myself in new notebooks for a while, which is never a bad thing.

Ik ben (sort of) Nederlandse

What a weekend! After my second week at work, I started to settle into a groove, only to be away from the office all this week at intensive Dutch class. I am so excited to start tomorrow, and hope to stretch my brain beyond anything I have imagined. I know it won't be a silver bullet that allows all communication to be clear, but it is a significant step toward becoming a proper Dutch speaker. And that is a good thing.

Saturday was the quarterfinal match between Netherlands and Russia. We went to a bar in de Pijp with friends (after consuming an obscene amount of cottage pie at Alison and Snapper's house) and were there to ride the waves of frustration, glee and sadness, as the mightly orange were eliminated from competition. When Holland scored a goal to tie the game, it was as loud, as exciting, as fun as I have ever imagined. The place went nuts, and we were part of it. I think I may have inadvertantly caused the loss because I had visited a costume shop earlier in the day and had bought much orange ephemera in anticpation of a victory -- wigs, hats, glasses, ect.) Note to self: wait until your team makes it to the finals before buying props. At least we are set for Queens Day next year!

Today was a lovely lazy day, as the winds are blowing with great force and the temperature is a humid 75. It is nice to be here, experiencing all of the events of the day with Tom and Beets. Just to sit on the red couch together and read books as Spain and Italy battle on the television is a beautiful thing. I hope the Dutch takes and I am hopeful that another world will open up here for us. It will take time and work, but it is quite a great challenge to take on. I'll keep you posted.

It's 10pm, but I swear it seems like 6.

I love summers in Holland, and now that it is officially my third such season here, I can say that with some cred. It stays light so late that the days take on a slower pace and everyone seems to be amazed all the time because it is perpetually 6pm in our collective heads, though it is much later in actuality. I remember being sent to bed as a kid when it was still light outside and using the lingering daylight to sneak a page or two of reading in when I was supposed to be sleeping. Those few pages felt like gold, and I still get the same charge when the clock says one thing but the light says another.

I started work this week and like it very much so far. Being the only non-Dutch speaker is a challenge, mostly because I can't eavesdrop and get a leg up on the challenges that I know are coming, but I am eager to learn and the people I am surrounded with are both patient and kind. The work is amazing -- very creative and smart -- and I feel like I fit. Once I can communicate in Dutch, it will all be better. One thing that surprised me was lunch, when everyone eats together in a common room, from food that is provided once a week by the company. Lots of soft sandwich bread, lots of butter, lots of cheese, lots of milk and lots of spreads. And sprinkles. They were very nice and asked me if I needed anything specific to eat, so this week will see the addition of Wassa crackers, green apples and soy milk. I want to fit in, but I can't eat what they eat and feel at all healthy. It is the first real cultural difference I have experienced, and in the very first week of working somewhere else. Guess this little experiment is working already!

The Euro Cup is very exciting. On Friday I went to the Arena (stadium) for the Bon Jovi show (which rocked, so stop your scoffing right now), and they showed the Netherlands vs. France match on the big screen before the band played. So exciting -- especially with about 20,000 people. So loud, so fun, so Hup! Hup! Holland!! Unfortunately, I know the French national anthem better than the Dutch one, but my friend Elissa and I managed to fake lip sync well enough to get by. Note to self: learn the Dutch national anthem.

I am on the set of "West Side Story"

Some young punks on the corner are singing the "Italia" anthem moments before the Euro Cup 2008 match between Italy and Netherlands starts. It is an epically beautiful evening, with the sky the brightest blue and more orange shirts in the streets than ever show up on Queens Day. Air horns, body paint and a real sense of excitement, even amongst the normally placid Dutch.

Tomorrow I start my first day at my new job, so that real sense of excitement might just be emanating from me like so much garlic, but I don't think so. It is a new chapter for me, and that is always a cause for celebration. More details to come.

We have all adjusted back to Amsterdam time and ways. On the way back from the phone store (which PROMPTLY closed at 6pm), Tom and I ran into a Dutch friend who is moving to Denmark tomorrow with his lovely Danish girl. For anyone who has ever emigrated to another city (within your country or not), you will recognize this moment as a watershed: you are minding your own business and hear your name called out from an outdoor cafe on the corner. You look over and see a friend who motions you over and asks you to stay for a beer. THAT is a sign that you have arrived and started creating a life. THAT is a cause for celebration.

Oh my god, Netherlands just scored. There is madness coming from the windows of apartments all over my neighborhood. Fantastic.

I know I need to share details of the trip, but I am loathe to try and write about it when I am still so in it. Suffice it to say that I was reminded how much I am loved just as I am and how amazingly lucky I am to have such amazing people in my life. I'll just go to the "Sound of Music" place and say, without embarrassment, that somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something seriously good. Nothing comes from nothing as they say.

WOW. Netherlands just scored again. Hup Holland!!!! Scream from the street! Yellow card!! I have to stop writing and start enjoying. I was far too green (te groen) to understand or participate in the glory that is European football when I moved here during World Cup 2006. Now that I am going on my third year, I can finally don my orange, push my way to the front of the pack and cheer along.

a fast update

I was in the US for three weeks and am now suffering major jet lag, combated by sleeping pills that wreck me until the early afternoon. So until I am back on my feet, there won't be any updates. But rest assured, there are stories to be told and photos to be shared once I am up and running on my own accord.

Until then, call me Judy and give me my beautiful dolls.

Tom + Katie try to culture it up

The Amsterdam weather has been fantastic -- sunny and 80ish for more than a week -- and once again I am reminded how well the Dutch do warm weather. Everyone leaves their rooms and embraces the sun, mostly without proper sunscreen. The canals were filled with boats, sidewalks in front of apartment buildings were filled with families and friends having dinner al fresco, and I was schooled how to use parks for proper picnics and birthday parties. Lots of lazing in the grass eating fantastic food and the happiest dog in the world.

On Sunday Tom and I went to the Art Amsterdam 2008 show at the RAI (in the south), which featured the latest in international contemporary art from 125 galleries. It was a great way to see such disparate work, as there wasn't the intimidation of going into actual galleries and there was a sense that you could discover something cool before a museum or highbrow collector did. And there were plenty of collectors around, which made the people watching freakishly great.

Some favorites:
Patrick Bergsma - Dutch artist who uses iconic Dutch motifs with great humor and affection

Klaas Gubbels, Door Vermeer, 1993, olieverf op doek, 70 x 80 cm

Klaas Gubbels - my affection may be influenced by the fact that he was in the space, signing books. I stood on the edge of the crowd that was gathered, watching him, and when I turned around, the expression on my face caused Tom to say, "You are such a goon. So excited to see a real life artist!"

Robert De keersmaeker - Dutch realist painter with a charming eye

Susanna Majuri, Farevil Kanal, 2005

Susanna Majuri - Finnish photographer

Kresten Havgaard, Uden titel, 2005, Olie på lærred, 67x92 cm

Kresten Havgaard - Danish painter in the best Motherwell vein

This show happens once a year for four days and was one of the best things I have done since moving here. So great that we were inspired to buy a piece of our own by Rotterdam artists SCHILTE & PORTIELJE. Though I can't download the image, you can see some of their work on at the Van Wijngaarden Hakkens gallery site. We felt quite fancy.

Summer Lovin' Amsterdam Style

The 100m Stiletto Sprint (this photo from Flicker)

I survived my second Queen's Day last week, celebrating in orange style with friends and a massive influx of Dutchies for a Day. The night before QD, is the Drag Queen Olympics at the Homomonument and it was fabulous. I learned one important fact: never photograph a drag queen from below when they are hurling a handbag. It just isn't fair.

A handbag toss from below. I apologize.

The next morning I got up and did a bit of shopping on the streets. No Frank doll like last year, but I found a set of walnut, glass-topped stacking tables and some pieces of the West German pottery that I like. Then we donned our orange garb and boarded a boat with lots of people from W+K for a four hour tour around the canals. Tom's orange knickers were a bit hit (though you have to be careful who you say knickers to, as it also means underwear).


And after the boat we went back into the streets to soak in some mayhem.


In the days following, the sun came out and the temps soared, so I assembled the patio furniture and opened up the roof terrace for the inaugural BBQ and cinco de mayo celebration. It rocked. The sun rocks.

This week I spent lots of time in the park with the dog and starting to get ready for the trip to Portland and New York: hair cut, facial, work stuff, finding a dog walker, etc. I can't believe I will be there for three whole weeks. So excited!