Its A Mad (Dutch) World

Anyone who reads this blog regularly will realise that I can be very ambivalent about life in the Netherlands. However, there is one thing that never ceases to amaze me, and that's how mad the Dutch are. Sometimes you just have to smile.

This Saturday we ended up in Scheveningen Harbour in Den Haag after another futile house-hunting recce.

It was Vlaggetjesdag - basically a festival to celebrate the humble herring. The arrival of the nieuwe haring season is a big thing over here, and the locals were waffling back the national dish of raw herring and cucumber pickles by the bucket load. The sea-shanty competition appeared to be in full-swing, and a whole programme of events had been planned for the wet and windy afternoon, including later on a concert by the singer Joe Cocker. Lets hope he likes his fish - if not, I'm sure his friends can help him out.

There were craft stalls, games, and lots of people in traditional costume - always a worry.  There are many regional variations on the national dress but the Scheveningen harbour version included womens headgear held in place by two large gold circular hairpins which looked like antennae. The whole thing was just too weird. After a quick sandwich sheltering from the wind we gave up and came home.

There was more weirdness on Sunday. We should have known better but we're suckers for punishment. The rain had stopped so we set off for Royal FloraHolland factory at Aalsmere and the local flower festival. Aalsmere is the world centre of the flower distribution industry, and according to Wikipedia The Royal FloraHolland auction factory is ‘by footprint’ the largest building in the world covering a massive 518,000 m2 (128 acres). 

At the factory, it all seemed very low key. Presumably as most people who live in Aalsmere work for Royal FloraHolland it’s the last place they want to visit on their day off. However, we were able to make a video of ourselves driving a forklift truck around the shop floor, and of course, there were more bizarre costumes on display.

Our next stop on the flower festival tour was Fort Kudelstaart, a UNESCO world heritage site where we caught a water taxi to Aalsmere town itself.  By this time it was getting up quite warm, so warm in fact that Henk, the boatman, decided he was too hot in his trousers and needed to change into his shorts. Most people would have nipped off to the loo to do this, but not the Dutch. I supposed I should just have been grateful he'd remembered to put his boxers on that morning.

We did a quick tour of the horticultural museum and then followed the sound of music (the Dutch don't do anything without music) to the windmill square. We decided to give the Rose Nursery and the Flower Arranging College a miss. We had seen enough (or more than enough in Henk's case). 

And so to the football.

Friends back home will be sat watching  Euro2016, listening to the expert analysis dished out at half-time by a smartly dressed Gary Lineker and co in the studio,  while we, in the Netherlands, have this lot. And a dog.

Need I say more?

Let the sun shine

Last week I succumbed to a severe case of feeling sorry for myself. A sore throat and snuffles caught from Mr T whose immunity was still down after his Viking Challenge became a debilitating illness (I just had to go back to bed),  an on-going bout of writer's block signalled the end of my career before it had even begun, and the Dutch climate was at its worse. It was so cold the heating came on.  I felt so miserable that I even turned down Mr T’s offer of going out to dinner. It would be a waste of money, I wouldn’t appreciate any of it…blah blah blah, followed by the usual this is all your fault, this wouldn’t happen if we were back in the UK.. etc etc

Basically I  lost the plot. Lack of motivation is a huge problem. There are days when I only have the cat for company.  It’s like being at home with a toddler - it can be great fun but the conversation is very  one way.  The TV show Pointless can be a highlight of my day - a couple of weeks ago I had two pointless answers in the final! It’s an opportunity to shine, I have to think, and a bit like our weekly pub quiz, the opportunity to prove I am still a capable and intelligent person (or not as the case may be in the pub quiz - this week's specialist topic Muhammad Ali. Note to self; always check  the obituaries before heading out.) 

I fear I am turning into bored housewife of Haarlem. We all like to feel valued.  Mr T goes to work, gets told he’s done a good job, gets a salary to prove it and has lots of people asking him for advice. He is making a contribution. I don’t have that. I don’t have anyone slapping me on the back when I’ve finished vacuuming my black carpet for the umpteenth time, and trust me, when the words don’t flow from the keyboard, its very easy to look at the cat hairs and the inevitable dust and think, ooh I’ll have to run the hoover over that again.

Dull Dutch days make it all seem ten times worse.

It so much easier to be positive when the sun comes out and appreciate the opportunities that ex-pat life has given me. 

Back in the UK I wouldn’t be walking ten minutes out of my front door on Saturday morning to an impromptu comic-con fest in the centre of town, to a market full of fresh, local produce before cycling out on a purpose built traffic-free path to a vast stretch of soft-sandy beach for a picnic. I wouldn’t go to a yoga class on a Monday afternoon where I could sit by a canal afterwards and enjoy a chat and a drink with friends from New Zealand, Australia and Belgium. I wouldn’t take a  morning jog (there’s no way it can be called a run - I'm not that positive!) along the banks of a canal and see cygnets, baby geese and ducklings. 

I know. I just need to get out more.