All the Fun of the Fair

After a few fun-filled days in the UK catching up with friends and soaking up some warm sunshine Mr T and I headed into the Grote Markt late on Saturday afternoon and discovered the fair has come to town.

It seems an incongruous setting – back home these things would be situated in a local park or an area of greenery. Instead, the big wheel overlooks the medieval church and a giant octopus swirls its eight legs in the face of the old town hall. Makes me very glad we didn’t take a lease on a city centre apartment.

Apparently it’s here for the next week or so, in preparation for Kings Day which is the major event in the Dutch year. I’m looking forward to it. The shops are already full of orange attire (at least orange is actually fashionable this year). Apparently it’s the day when you can set up stall in the street and sell off your junk, and basically just a big excuse to party and get drunk. Sounds like great fun.

Back in the UK I’d had a hectic schedule. It wasn’t purely pleasure – I had a dental appointment, and an  MOT (on the car not me), plus I’d arranged to see a writing professional for a critique on my finally, or so I thought, completed novel (yes it’s very good but……)

I re-joined my old pub quiz team and enjoyed the success of being runner up – a feat that will just never happen here in Haarlem where the weekly quiz is taken far too seriously by the regular teams. The Dutch quiz-master has now quit – apparently he says there it takes up too much time, plus of course there is no fun in it anymore. I can’t blame him. I’d get fed up with people arguing over the answers with me every week too. It’s a bought-in quiz. He doesn’t set the questions. These people need to lighten up and take a holiday and let someone else win for a change. Like me and Mr T.

However, I was feeling a bit dull on Saturday afternoon. I’d had a good few days back in the UK and felt slightly deflated about returning to the Netherlands where the icy wind always blows and life just feels a bit lacking in purpose sometimes. However, as we strolled back to the house, Mr T with his arms full of tulips (we only wanted one bunch but the stall holder, who was just packing up insisted we take the whole bucketful) we passed the local craft beer bar, where one of our quiz rivals waved at us from the window and beckoned us to join him and his wife for an early evening drink.

So there we sat, Mr T with his craft beer and me with my glass of wine, exchanging jolly banter about the trials and tribulations of living amongst the Dutch with a very genial Irish couple, a bouquet of tulips resting on the table between us. It was a very pleasant 'homecoming' and to cap it all, the sun has been shining ever since.

Never Mind the Tulips

Never mind the tulips - it's all about the magnolias in my front garden. Over the last few days we have finally glimpsed some spring sunshine - and with it these beautiful magnolias which have subsequently attracted a lot of (unwanted) attention from passers-by (remember I have no net curtains or frosted glass in my very large front window). I’m seriously thinking of charging people who stop to admire the glorious white blooms. Some pretend they can't see past the flowers - others do respond to our waves. I suppose I shouldn't grumble. I am just as guilty as any of admiring plants in other people's gardens - I just try and do it a little more discreetly.

We've had house guests again this weekend and I've faced the usual questions about how we feel we are settling in and what we like/dislike about living in the Netherlands.

 To be honest apart from the weather (and even that's looking up - stripped off to a T-shirt for a couple of hours on Friday afternoon), there isn’t an awful lot to dislike about living here. As a Brit it’s very easy to fit in.  I almost feel like a native, apart from the fact that I am too short, not fit enough, and too polite of course.

Would I ever have 'said s**t' in front of a customer when I worked in a shop? No. Do I move out of the way for people on a narrow pavement? Yes.  Would I move over to an empty seat on a bus or a train to make it easier for another person to sit down? Yes.

I've noticed the Dutch don’t exactly co-operate - and I don't just mean with me, I mean with each other. When our neighbour changed his mind and refused access to the builder our landlords had engaged to replace the chimney pots on his roof, our estate agent assured us his attitude was nothing personal. He explained our neighbour was just ‘being Dutch’ – as I suppose he has every right to be. Personally I just call it being awkward.

Last weekend as we sat outside a café we witnessed a lady whisk away a chair from an occupied table, only stopping to ask the lone man sat there if it was free as an afterthought. Presumably if his wife had just nipped to the loo the man would have said something sooner, but surely it’s polite to ask first?

On the other hand, when we enquired if a table was available for four in our local very ‘bijou’ pizza restaurant earlier this week, the waitress assured us she could fit us in if we didn’t mind waiting for a few minutes.  I assumed she meant someone was about to leave, but no, she promptly asked a couple sat at a table for four to move onto a tiny corner table for two – mid-mouthful. I suppose at least she asked them – rather than just whipping their plates across to the other side of the restaurant while they weren’t looking.

On arriving at another restaurant the following evening with a larger group of friends we were again asked to wait as two customers sat at the table needed to make up the eight places we’d reserved, were still finishing their coffees. Fine, we said, no problem.  Twenty minutes later the two women still lingered over their coffee and the waiter seemed in no rush to hurry them up. He needed lessons from pizza lady. If ever there was an occasion for someone to be presented with a bill before they’d had a chance to order a second coffee a la USA this was it. When he finally took the hint (because they certainly weren't going to) and asked if they minded finishing their drinks at the bar, it was actually another hour before they left.

And in case this sounds like we spend an awful lot of time eating out - we do. Haarlem is foodie heaven, so why not? And just to add to the food-fest here are some pictures from our recent visit to Alkmaar Cheese Market.