Feeling Festive

There is nothing like Christmas to get the creative juices flowing again. I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been particularly inspired to post any blogs just recently – life in the Netherlands ticks over very simply and quietly  (dull is another description which immediately springs to mind). Nor do I do an awful lot to write about.

However, daughter No 1 moved to Budapest this week, and had published her new travel blog within hours of stepping off the plane.  It made me realise I need to get back on track. What sort of writer am I if I can’t make my mundane everyday life in Haarlem sound interesting enough for people to want to read about?

So let me start with my evening in Amsterdam. I’ve met some new friends through an international women’s group, and this week’s activity was a walking tour of Amsterdam’s Christmas lights.  

I like meeting new people, I like being ‘included’ but I’ve come to realise, a bit like in the US, that not liking coffee is holding me back. Sitting in a café with a glass of boiling hot water (I really don’t get why you would ever put boiling water into a glass with no handle) and a selection of very weak tea-leaves is no fun.  If I want my tea to taste of anything other than hot water the tea leaves need to infuse for a good 30 minutes, by which time my very hot water is cold and everyone else has long finished their Lattes and is ready to move on.

So – no more cups of tea for me, I’ll stick to wine. With a half hour wait before the start of the walking tour one new friend suggested we share a bottle of wine (don't panic - there were five of us!). We called over the waiter. Ten minutes later no sign of bottle of wine, and I started to get slightly agitated.  Just as we decided we’d cancel the order, wine arrived. It was quite tempting to ask for paper take-away cups, but funnily enough, none of us actually had a problem downing a glass of wine in ten minutes (which says an awful lot for the life of an expat wife).  It’s just that when I’ve paid six euro’s for my glass, I’d have quite liked to savour it. Dutch service can sometimes leave a lot to be desired.

We had a good walk and a chat, admired the lights – which really are very pretty indeed – discussed the merits of various Amsterdam eateries, marvelled at the Bijenkorf’s window displays and lamented the demise of C&A in the UK.

Most of my new friends are just like me – husband at work, hours to kill. They play cards, attend book clubs,  meet for lunch, go for walks.  I find myself turning invitations down. Does that make me unsociable? I want people to like me, yet…if I am out all day walking, lunching, swigging wine or sipping hot water, then I don’t have the time to write…and how am I ever going to get a second novel finished, and never mind having the time to try and find a publisher and/or self-publish the first….and then also I don’t particularly like telling my new friends that I need time to ‘write’ because then they always want to know exactly what it is I write, and what I've had published (and that's where the conversation always ends!)

So should I be highly sociable and non-productive, or a productive-recluse? It’s a dilemma.

Meanwhile, back to the Christmas festivities. People travel all over Europe for the Christmas markets and we are lucky enough to have one right here on our doorstep. Haarlem’s Christmas market only comes for the weekend, but it’s probably long enough – after all how many fir cone angel tea-light holders do you really need?

Christmas over here is generally very low key – our local Albert Heijn has a meagre selection of three different rolls of Christmas wrapping paper, two which aren’t very festive at all (and could double up as birthday paper – which probably suits the Dutch sense of frugality) and another which depicts Zwarte Piet (definitely a no-no). Anyone who lives near me back in the UK will know that you can’t move in the local Tesco for shelves of gift-wrap. Still at least  lack of choice speeds up the decision making process.

Also this weekend, Mr T’s Christmas work-do and a rare opportunity to dress up and wear heels. The dress and the heels had to be specially purchased – no point having heels in Haarlem because of the cobblestones, and the dress was bought in the UK because I wanted something above the knee (I am too short for the Dutch fashion industry).

A good evening was had by all – although Mr T and I did realise after the event that we were actually the only guests staying in the hotel, but I think I might save that story for another post...