Tot Ziens

This is the last post on Dutch for Beginners as my time as ex-pat wife in the land of tulips, cheese and windmills, has come to an end, and I am writing this from my home back in the UK.

I never learnt Dutch. We never fully immersed ourselves in the Dutch culture, although having said that I found the Dutch lifestyle, especially the emphasis on a work/life balance and the predilection for family based outdoor and physical activities, admirable and inspiring. As a European I found it much easier to fit into the Netherlands than I did in the crazy commercial/materialistic/car is king world of California, even with the addition of the language barrier (and let’s face it, the Dutch speak impeccable English and I wasn’t totally sure my American neighbours ever really understood me!)

One of the main reasons I was happy to take on another overseas assignment was because I was about to face the empty nest syndrome at home – however, the nest still felt empty despite the scenic surroundings of Haarlem and the Hague, and I am over the moon at the prospect that one of my little fledglings is about to return home, at least temporarily, now that I am back in the UK.

However, I did find the time to complete that novel – and fingers crossed there will be more news on that in the very near future. As for my attempts at writing a book based on my experiences of being a sane (well at least relatively) English woman in LA, current working title ‘Is It Just Me?’, sadly this is no closer to reaching an end, having now been superseded by the need to write a guide to ex-pat life in the Netherlands. I haven’t decided on a title for that yet – it’s a toss up between ‘On Yer Bike’ or  ‘Into the Wind’, or a combination of both!

To anyone ever contemplating a move overseas, my advice would always be to give a try, because if I can survive it, anyone can. At the end of the day the traumas and frustrations of being an alien in a foreign land pale into insignificance. For me, it will always be memories of the friendships I’ve made along the way that will linger.

Travel certainly broadens the mind, and my mind has definitely been broadened by being in the Netherlands (especially since I joined the health club!).  Even if you don't want to live there - at least go for a visit. It's a wonderful place, full of history and culture, and once you've finished taking in the sights and smells of Amsterdam, head out into the countryside.

And to finish, a picture which just about sums it all up - and there's even blue sky! 

Health & Safety

After nearly three years of living in the Netherlands I should be pretty au fait now with the Dutch psyche. I know, for example, that when the sun comes out - the Dutch stop whatever they are doing and grab some rays. There are plenty of dull moments over here and you have to make the most of that sunshine when you see it. Wednesday saw us on the beach with everyone else who was skipping off work early, overdressed I might add, in our shorts and T-shirts (why hadn't I thought to bring my bikini?) and Thursday it was back to coat, jeans, scarf and boots.

At least I’m ending my stay here on a high. The forecast for my final week in the Netherlands is warm and sunny.  

With the improvements in the weather Mr T and I have taken the opportunity to explore new areas of Den Haag. We finally made it to the Zuiderpark, a huge area of greenery in the south of the city, which besides several lakes and ornamental gardens, is also home to another ubiquitous Dutch deer park as well as an urban farm/nature reserve.  Also spotted in the Zuiderpark was Dutch dad teaching child to cycle down steps, despite child’s wailing protest (why would you?) The only saving grace was at least the child was wearing a helmet - not an every day sight over here. The Dutch are great risk takers. I still wince every time a parent cycles past me with a baby strapped to their chest, but that's what they do.

And talking of taking risks, choosing a chef’s ‘surprise’ menu when eating out makes for a decision free evening. We've done it before and not been disappointed. This time, after being asked if we had any allergens, Mr T did reply that although we were allergy free there were certain foods we did not like. Such as? asked the waiter. Knowing how much the Dutch love their carpaccios I had the good sense to hastily reply, Raw Meat. Well that was the ‘surprise’ starter rumbled but the waiter hurried away and confirmed that we could have a fish based first course instead. Phew! But the tastiest course in the whole evening - a very posh bitterball in asperagus veloute. Yes, I said, a bitterball. I'm finally going native!

To coincide with my last weekend, and not to celebrate my departure,  Mr T’s work had organised a family day out a medieval castle where we could partake in the olde worlde activities of sword fighting and jousting, and more total Dutch disregard for health and safety. For avid fans of Games of Thrones like me this was the ideal opportunity to show off my inner Arya Stark. (As it turns out I’m not bad with a crossbow but I’m pretty useless with a sword). For Mr T's Dutch work colleagues it was the ideal opportunity for them to demonstrate what they really thought of their overseas counterparts with a spot of one on one combat. Fortunately, Mr T didn't need stitches. 

The day was rounded off with a falconry display. Why wouldn't you want a vulture with claws the size of your hand wandering loose amongst the crowd? 

Back in the safety of town our feathered neighbours are far more docile, and celebrating the birth of quins.

Hills and more!

After nearly three years of living in the Netherlands, we finally found what we’d been looking for – hills!! For our final escape to the country Mr T and I set off for a weekend in Maastricht. Maastricht lies in the very far south east of the Netherlands in the region of Limburg, a Dutch peninsular landlocked between Germany and Belgium.  We could hardly contain our excitement as we watched the altimeter on the sat nav reach the dizzy heights of 120 m above sea level. Mr T was nearly overcome with altitude sickness – where we live on the west coast we’re lucky if we get above sea level, let alone into double figures. Triple figures was a cause for a major celebration!

Mr T had selected a hotel which had received very good reviews on trip advisor.  Personally, my idea of a 9 out of 10 hotel is one that doesn’t involve standing naked in a shower waiting 10 minutes for the hot water to kick in. I would have had a bath if there had been a working plug.

I liked Maastricht a lot – the flavour of the town definitely felt more Belgian or even French, but then you turn a corner, and you know you're still in the Netherlands when you find a sculpture like this in the middle of a medieval square!

We took a boat trip down the River Maas which cuts through the city, and after that, we climbed a hill. From our view point at St Pieters Fort we watched some vertical archery. I’d seen Michael Portillo do this on one of his great continental train journeys. You know you’re turning into your parents when you find yourself watching programmes about train journeys, but this happened to be a journey he did in the Netherlands, and he visited the Hague and Haarlem - that's my excuse anyway.  The idea of vertical archery is that you aim at a shuttlecock perched on the top of a flagpole. Of course the major flaw in this game is that having aimed, and missed (or even hit the target) the arrow then descends, rapidly, to the ground. Apparently the arrows do have rubber ends, but even so.  Not the sport for me - and I apologise for cutting the top off the photograph - another case of turning into my mother. Trust me, there are shuttlecocks at the top of this pole!

After Maastricht we headed even further east to the tourist spot of Valkenburg. Valkenburg is the only place in the Netherlands to have a castle on a hill. The castle is now in ruins, but beneath the hill there is a maze of tunnels created by sandstone miners, and in December, Valkenburg is famous for the Christmas markets held in these caves. Personally I found the caves totally spooky; we took a guided tour with a Dutch boy scout (or at least he look liked a boy scout) who pointed out the various highlights, including an underground chapel and lots of etchings and sculptures, and recounted the gruesome tales of various people who had perished in the catacombs over the years (including some who became lost as recently as 1993).  I made sure we kept within touching distance of him at all time. It was a relief to reach fresh air!

I have in the past complained that the trouble with the Netherlands is that wherever you go it all looks the same. Well it doesn’t. I’m man enough to eat my words. There's a very small portion of it that is different (but it's a very small portion!).

Kings Day and other Dutch stuff

Yesterday was Kings Day which is the day the Netherlands goes orange. It's basically party day – a national holiday specifically for the purposes of consuming large volumes of alcohol and listening to live music all in the name of celebrating the reigning monarch’s birthday (this year King Willem was 50). Here in The Hague we found it a somewhat subdued affair compared to Haarlem where the party always starts quite early with a mass secondhand sale of household goods – you simply set up a stall outside your house and sell off your old junk. In the Hague itself there were very few people selling off their old junk – maybe a sign of the city’s large international community, or the fact that people in the Hague are so posh they don’t have old junk.

There were several pop-up stages for live music around the city centre, and pop-up bars – of course, and a huge fun fair selling the largest bags of candyfloss I think I’ve ever seen. (The Dutch have very sweet teeth). The Dutch for funfair is kermis – an easy word to remember when learning a language by word association. Think Kermit the frog on a big wheel.

Another Dutch word I have recently learned is woonwagonwooner.  This little gem I picked up whilst watching an edition of Midsumer Murders with Dutch subtitles. It was used as a translation for ‘traveller’ – not someone setting off on a long journey but someone who lives in a caravan (literally living-wagon-dweller).  I’m still trying to think of a suitable word association analogy although with the days being ticked off now until I move back to the UK permanently it’s a little too late to be worrying about learning Dutch now.

Last weekend was the Bloemencorso – another wonderful Dutch word.  The Bloemencorso is a flower parade, and it takes all day to make its way from the bublfields of Nordwijkerhout, near the Keukenhof Gardens to Haarlem. We headed up to Haarlem to see the floats parked up on Sunday morning, bumped into our old neighbours, and thought to ourselves all over again how lucky we were to spend two years living in such a beautiful city. 

So, it's been a week of doing lots of Dutch stuff - which also involved a hazardous trek to the supermarket avoiding hail and sleet showers, as well as ducking falling masonry from men working four stories high on unnetted scaffolding. and been run over by a man and a dog on a motorbike. 

Meet the Neighbours

Since we arrived in the Hague I have to admit I haven’t exactly gone out of my way to make new acquaintances. There are plenty of ex-pat groups available, but with old friends just a train ride away in Haarlem and Amsterdam, it all felt like too much effort to start all over again – especially as I always knew my stay in the Hague was due to be short-term. Making new friends on the ex-pat circuit is relatively easy – as long as you are prepared to put yourself out there and join in.  However, after eight years of travelling, having to tackle another round of ‘first dates’ to introduce myself to a new friend set just seemed one hurdle too many.  

I was hoping that living in an apartment block might provide some sort of social hub – after all we made good friends living in a similar complex in the US.  I suppose a communal swimming pool and endless sunshine does increase the opportunity for social-action with the neighbours.  Here we’re not quite so lucky. I‘m not naturally the most out-going of people but I will generally smile and say hello if I pass someone on the stairs or in the corridor. It still surprises me that there are people who can stand next to you in an elevator and pretend you don’t exist, but it happens. I could blame it on the language/cultural barrier. The Dutch are not known for their small talk, or their manners (twice last week in the supermarket I was the victim of trolley bashing by the boy filling the shelves – no 'excuse me', no apology) but the majority of our immediate neighbours are not Dutch. The Hague has a huge international population.

Fortunately, having set myself the target of cracking on with novel number two while novel number one does the round of publishers, I’ve been quite content to hide myself away with my computer. When I need a break I head out to track down the evening meal at Albert Heijn, when I need the exercise I head off to the gym for a swim.  It’s a lifestyle that would have sent a social butterfly completely bonkers, but fortunately I am not a social butterfly, although the insanity issue is still up for debate.

So anyhow, the whole purpose of this post is basically to show off a photograph of our more friendly neighbours – a pair of swans who have built their nest in the middle of a nearby canal,

and a mother hen, spotted not nearby, but wandering around a park in Breda. We visited Breda over the Easter weekend, mainly to tick it off the list.

The Dutch do like their captive animals. As I said in my last post, most towns will have a deer park, and many neighbourhoods will have a small city farm with goats, cows and hens. Presumably this little family of chickens have escaped from some such establishment – so good luck to them.

As for the pony in the next pic, we came across this on the beach, in a pizza restaurant. In my opinion there is definitely a place in society for ponies, but not as an Easter display, and definitely not when I’m sat in eating a restaurant.

A Dutch Spring

When I was deliberating whether to return to the Netherlands or not after my winter break in the UK, Mr T assured me that the Netherlands was due to have its hottest spring ever. As luck would have it, it appears he is right. Last weekend although not quite as hot as certain parts of the UK,  the temperature hit 22 and the Dutch flocked to the beach.

We were early birds, determined to beat the rush. Catching up with old friends from Haarlem we  headed to Scheveningen on the bikes for brunch. It doesn’t take much for the Dutch to strip off (as I have learned to my cost since joining the Health Club) and the sun worshippers were already stretching out on the sand as we settled into one of the many pop-up beach restaurants.

A typical Dutch breakfast - and all for me!!

Scheveningen was packed. Trams were sardine cans, off-loading day-trippers in their thousands, but of course it was a one-day wonder. By Monday the temperature had halved and it was back to coats and scarves.

A Dutch spring is of course most famous for the tulips. The previous week I’d met up with friends from the US who were spending a few days in Amsterdam. I’d offered my useful travel tips which included booking their tour of the Anne Frank house five years in advance to avoid the three hour queue and visiting the bulb fields. Fake news travels fast – they’d been informed the first week in April was too early to catch the tulips.  Fortunately with my insider knowledge I was able to put them right. It always helps to know a local.

(not wanting to mislead this is actually a picture from last year but you can get the gist)

And talking of locals, I’ve been continuing my exploration of The Hague and encountering the wildlife at close quarters. Like most Dutch towns and villages, the Hague has a deer park, which seems quite a bizarre thing to find right outside the main central station, but there you go. 

All countries have their customs, and it will soon be time for Kings Day, where everyone wears orange, plays loud music and drinks a lot, and then it will be Bevrijdingsdag, which is a Liberation Day celebration which also involves (funnily enough) lots of drinking and loud music, followed by graduation day in June, when schoolbags are hoisted onto flag poles (and probably also involves lots of drinking and loud music).  By then, hopefully, we’ll also have had another hot sunny day.

More locals out for a stroll

Tourist Mode

Visitors are always a good excuse to get out and about and see the Netherlands through new eyes.

Yes, it's that time of year again, which means another trip to the Keukenhof Gardens. I like gardening and it's always good to get some ideas, but I couldn't help but feel this year's exhibits in the flower arranging section were just a little lacking!

Nevermind, the sun was shining and although it's very early in the season the gardeners had done their best to ensure colourful displays outside. It was more of a crocus-fest than a traditional tulip party, but definitely, some ideas to take home. It would never occur to me to plant rhubarb in a flower pot, but it's one to try, as is hyacinth wedding cake.

However, the most inspirational idea - the book chair. Perfect.

Making the Most of It

What is it about human nature that makes us wait until time is running out before we start using it effectively?

With the ‘last day in the Netherlands’ now pencilled into my diary, I’m in panic mode. But, I haven’t done this, I haven’t been there, I haven’t got my money’s worth out of my annual museumkaart...

The Museumkaart is a wonderful thing. For less than 60 euros a year it gives you access to nearly every museum in the Netherlands, and as individual entrance fees are between 10-15 euros, it’s a very good deal.  If you use it.

A wet weekend is the ideal incentive to seek out some culture. The Hague is currently celebrating 100 years of Mondrian and the De Stijl movement, so we took a trip to the Gemente Museum to view the more permanent works of art as opposed to the red, blue and yellow seagull floats outside the Binnenhof. Another lure of the Gemente Museum was to catch the last few days of the Hubert De Givenchy exhibition – a collection of the fashion designer’s most iconic costumes, including several worn by Audrey Hepburn, a Dutch national treasure. Quite naturally, the exhibition featured that Little Black Dress, and I too could don the Audrey hat and sunglasses for a dress-up session in the photo booth, or at least I could, if the photo booth had been working.

From the Gemente we went next door to the Foto museum, where Mr T was positively inspired by the idea of transforming mundane subject matter into pictures of interest. On our walk home he insisted on snapping pics of parked cars, the beginnings, apparently, of a possible coffee table book.

The following day we headed down to the Maritime Museum in Rotterdam, where one of the new features is the ‘off-shore experience’. More dressing up was required – hard hat, florescent jacket, and following a safety film about what to do if your helicopter crashes (if I was a child – and it is aimed at children - I’d have been completely terrified at this point) you head up a staircase to a simulated oil-rig in the North Sea – complete with wind effect where you can press lots of buttons and pretend you control pipelines. Home from home for Mr T.   

There are several old vessels to explore outside in the museum harbour, including a traditional Dutch barge which was used to transport coal, sand and peat, back in the day when Dutch people were considerably shorter than they are now  – even I had to bend my head in the living quarters, which incidentally were about the size of an average family bathroom. Even more fascinating was learning that the family who lived on this particular barge had six children - there wasn't room to swing a cat let alone a child. However, the kindly curator showed us a photograph of the children strapped together on the canal bank towing the barge - children being cheaper than the cost of buying and keeping horse. Not now they're not. 

A good weekend's worth of knowledge gained. Now I just have to get my money's worth out of the spa membership. It'll be tough. 

(Not a picture of ex-pat wives on a day out but more outfits from the De Givenchy range)

One Week In...

It’s the end of my first week back in the Hague; and the sun has come out. That’s not the only change since I left in December. Roads that had been closed since we first arrived way back in September are now open; barriers down, traffic cones removed. Whole new areas have opened up. There are new art installations, including several in celebration of the artist Piet Mondrian and the de Stijl art movement.

I’m not quite sure who came up with the idea of the floating blocks in the Hofvijver lake but the seagulls certainly seem to be appreciating them.

It’s almost like starting over somewhere new. I'm seeing the city with fresh eyes. The crocuses are out, creating swathes of purple beside the pavements.  At Scheveningen, quickly becoming my favourite place, the pop-up beach restaurants have already popped-up. On Friday night as we sat on the pier, sipping a pre-dinner beer and a wine, watching the sun set from a cloudless sky into an uncharacteristically calm sea, we could almost imagine ourselves, if we weren’t behind glass and still wearing our coats, back in the Caribbean.

We decided we would make the most of the weekend’s good weather forecast and head out for a hike along the beach. We thought we’d just wander and see how far we got – which wasn’t actually that far. It’s hard-going walking on sand. We did deviate inland onto the manmade paths across the sand-dunes for a change of scenery, but the scenery, if I’m honest, was less than spectacular.

The Dutch landscape isn’t the only thing that’s a bit subdued We spent Sunday morning watching the NN CPC Loop Den Haag, a massive running event involving 35,000 participants which saw most of the newly opened roads closed off again. Having been a spectator at the London marathon a couple of years ago it was quite noticeable how low-key this event seemed to be in comparison. There were several races on the agenda, including a 5 K, 10K, kids races and a half marathon. We seemed to be the odd ones out as we clapped and cheered as the participants ran, jogged and staggered past. We were at the 1K mark – but the crowds were pretty thin, and surprisingly (for the Dutch) unvocal, which seemed a bit of a shame.

However, with the sun out it was a day for doing stuff – not standing around. The bikes came out of hibernation and we decided to go for a cycle. My gears had seized up and Mr T’s front-brake had stuck, but after quick massage and a splash of oil off we set.

We headed for the Haagse Bos, an area of woodland we hadn’t explored before. The Dutch Royal family have a house in the Bos, and although we found the palace, sadly, there was no sign of Willem and Maxima pottering in the grounds. The house appeared to be undergoing a complete renovation but presumably if the Dutch Royals are anything like the British, they'll have several other residences to decamp to,  or  maybe they were hiding out in a mobile home around the back.

Disappointed, we carried on and came to a large garden centre. Now I love a good garden centre.  On a Sunday in the UK, a garden centre would be heaving with customers.  But this is the Netherlands. The garden centre was closed. My inner American screams why isn't everything open 24/7? While my it's so refreshing the Netherlands is so uncommercial side appreciates why Maxima wasn’t out there with her gardening gloves on. She was probably out on a family cycle ride instead.

Day One

Back in the Netherlands after an extended stay in the UK and my first day has been a day of queuing. This is not a result of food shortages that have mysteriously occurred in my absence,  but simply an issue of staff deployment. Generally I do my best to avoid Albert Heijn supermarkets first thing on a Monday morning. Our nearest shop is very small, and the aisles are full of staff restocking after the weekend.  However, with an afternoon mission already planned I had no choice but tackle the chicanes and other major hazards created by warehouse crates and boxes blocking every aisle.  No queues at the check-out, mainly because there were more staff in the shop than customers.

However, the real fun began in the afternoon,  when I had to return to a second Albert Heijn (I refuse to visit the same one twice in the one day) to pick up the goods I had (a) forgotten in the morning and (b) had not been re-stocked (that’s the trouble with going too early!).  But first, I went to Action. For those of you don’t know Action think Home Bargains. It’s one of those shops that sells everything from toothpaste to bicycle pumps, the sort of place you go into expecting to buy one item, and come up with arms full of stuff. It is also one of those shops that has six check-outs, four of which are for display purposes only. Action is the home of the queue. And typically, after a lengthy wait, just as I finally reached the point where I could load my several-more-than-planned purchases onto the conveyer belt, the inevitable happened, another check-out opened, and of course, those at the back who had waited the least, scrambled to the empty till.

 

Undeterred, I stuck it out. I had invested a great deal of time in my queue, and then, exactly the same thing happened next door in the second Albert Heijn supermarket of the day, where just as I reached that point...the till roll needed to be changed.  Outwardly calm, inwardly seething.

I appreciate that these situations are not unique to the Netherlands. It could happen anywhere. But they say Europeans don't know how to queue. Trust me, they do!

During my two months back in the Uk I had become re-acclimatized with those cheeky check-out conversations with shop assistants, which simply don’t happen here, mainly because ashamedly, I don’t have any Dutch conversational skills apart from a ja, ja, nee  and a dank Ju well in answer to the standard do I have a bonus card, do I want a receipt, am I collecting saving stamps and have a good day (I am completely thrown if I’m asked anything else). Back in the UK recent exchanges with shop assistants have included a lengthy conversation on the merits of bathroom refurbishment (stemming from the admiration of my new bathmat) and another five minute talk on the commercial viability of wine for cats. Anyone who has ever given their cat catnip will know that cats do not need wine.  And dogs don’t need beer either (yes we got onto that too).

Ed looking unimpressed with another spontaneous purchase from Action!

Carry On Cruising

Following the success of last year’s Caribbean cruise to escape the depths of a Dutch winter, Mr T insisted that a dose of new year sunshine should become an annual tradition. I was more than happy to oblige. This year, we opted for a P&O ship, Britannia, and set out for a week’s cruise around the islands of St Lucia, Dominica, Antigua, St Maarten and Barbados.

Our cruise was only seven nights, and after a friend had warned that she knew of someone who gained two stone on a two week cruise, a week sounded quite long enough. After all, we only had a limited luggage allowance and I needed to be able to travel home in the clothes I wore out.

So is cruising all about over-indulging? Is it one long food and drink fest? Well it’s certainly very easy to be lazy.  You don’t have to get off the ship if you don’t want to, on Britannia there are at least three sundecks, four pools and ample space to lounge around.

Haunted by the thought that I wouldn’t be able to fit back into my airplane jeans, I insisted that the lifts were out of bounds for us. We were going to walk up and down the stairs (there are 17 decks), we were going to complete the seven laps of the running track that constituted a mile every morning before breakfast (we did it twice) and we were not going to grab as much food as we possibly could from all inclusive buffet. With breakfast available from 6.00 am to 11.30 am, lunch starting at 12 and continuing until 2.30 pm, afternoon tea from 3 to 5, and dinner from 6.00, there really is only a very small window of time when food is not available – and even then you can always grab a slice of pizza or a burger from the poolside grill. Even people who eat in their sleep are catered for as late night snacks from 10.00 pm until 2.00 am and then there’s round the clock room service.

Formal dining on board was pretty special. We opted out of the main dining room a couple of times, once for a pre-booked evening in the Limelight Club where the food was definitely up a notch and the entertainment was provided by soul-singer Jaki Graham, and the second for an impromptu meal in the Glasshouse restaurant just to make a change. We’d originally opted for freedom dining which meant you can eat when you like, and with whom you like, either choosing a table for two, or ‘sharing’ which is a bit like speed dating, meeting a new couple every night. Sometimes you gel, sometimes you don’t.  Fortunately it’s a big boat, and we rarely met the same people twice!

If you like everything done for you, cruising is the perfect escape. Chocolates on your pillow, entertainment morning, noon and night; a theatre, a pub, a nightclub, a casino. What more could you want? Peace and quiet? Well you can even have that if you want to escape to the Serenity Pool, or even pay extra to sunbathe away from the rabble in the exclusive  Retreat.

Mr T and I like to explore. In Dominica we took an organised trip to the Rain Forest, in Antigua we took a local taxi to the beach. St Maarten was a bit of an anomaly – the island is split into French and Dutch territory. We landed on the Dutch side and took a taxi to the French capital Marigot, our Dutch driver (fifteen years in Rotterdam) filling us in on the history and customs of the island as we battled our way through the traffic. (Traffic jams in the Caribbean? Yeh man, there were five cruise ships in port that day.)   These islands rely on tourism and retail opportunities abound. Traders are very keen for your business; you end up saying ‘no thank-you’ an awful lot, and in fact, we had two rival beach sunbed vendors almost in fisticuffs as they competed for our custom in St Maarten. But most of the time, we found the locals pretty laid back.

Back on board, we took part in a ‘James Martin’ cookery class in Britannia’s million pound demonstration kitchen. Unfortunately James wasn’t on hand himself but his substitute, a jolly Irish Dara O’Briain look-a-like chef taught us how to make the perfect pasta, and yes of course we promised that we would retrieve our pasta-making machine from its permanent resting place in the back of the cupboard and make our own pasta as soon as we got home.

The highlight of our holiday? Snorkling with turtles in Barbados most definitely. Rum punch at 9.00 am in the morning? Why not?

And yes, I could still fit into my jeans for the flight home. (Just!)

Happy Smiley People

Despite intending to postpone any further posts until I return to the Netherlands, I watched an item on the news this week and decided to add my five pennyworth of thoughts. According to a recent survey, Dutch children are the happiest in the world. Having also watched a programme a month or so ago about obesity, and how it just isn't happening in the Netherlands, I thought I'd also give my opinion on that too.

All this positive publicity might start you thinking that the Netherlands is actually a very sensible place to live, especially if you want content, slim kids. And to be honest, it probably is.

So what is the magic formula? According to the BBC news report, the happiness is all to do with family time, and according to Channel 4, the lack of obesity has a lot to do with cheese. When we first arrived in the Netherlands it was quite noticeable the amount of dads I saw out and about during the day with their kids. Talking to other ex-pats and making friends with Dutch-long-lifers, I soon learned that this was because a lot of parents only work four days a week enabling child-care to be shared by both parents. In fact a lot of Dutch people, of all ages, only work four days a week. My hairdresser, a young girl in her 20's, only worked four days a week. My cat-sitter, another young girl in her 20's, works in HR four days a week and cat-sits the rest of the time. Mr T (who has spent far too long working for a big American corporation) complains, quite regularly, that half his workforce only work four days a week, and they go home on time, and refuse to work weekends! They even take all their holiday allowance and take days off sick when they are sick. Heaven forbid. These people know to enjoy themselves. Or have they just got that work-life balance sorted out? That's the key.

Family time is important time. For example, Christmas isn't about buying each other lots of presents; its about being together. The first year we lived in the Netherlands I struggled to even find 'grown up' wrapping paper. Presents (and it is probably only one) are for children.

The Dutch don't wrap their kids up in cotton wool. You don't see kids being dropped off and picked up outside the school-gates in a 4x4. Right from the word go the school run is completed on two wheels, and if the little-ones are not trusted to make their own way to school, mum or dad will cycle alongside until they are. Dutch kids go 'out' to play - whatever the weather. There's no point stopping activities just because its raining. It rains an awful lot in the Netherlands. Dutch kids grow up balancing on the back of bikes, they grow up playing on the banks of canals, and they grow up living in houses with treacherously steep narrow stairs. 

'How do you teach your kids to go up and down those stairs?' I can remember asking a Dutch mum quite early on.

'We put a mattress at the bottom,' she replied. 'And if they fall, they tend to fall only once.'

They either die, or learn to be more careful. Makes perfects sense. There are obvious risks, and there must be obvious accidents. But more importantly, they have freedom.

Dutch teenagers do have I-pads and I-phones and go to McDonalds, but they will also cycle to nightclubs, or the pub, or their after school-activity. And if you do have to catch a bus or train to work, you cycle to the station. You might even keep a second bike at your destination to complete the rest of your journey. And imagine doing the weekly grocery shop on your bike. You soon cut down on the amount of food you buy, and waste, when you have to carry it home in your paniers.

So the Dutch can eat lots of bread, and cheese and drink lots of milk, because not only do they burn it off with all this excessive activity, but apparently, calcium aids the dietary process as it interferes with the absorption of fat.

Personally, from my own forays into Dutch supermarkets I'd say there is far less choice and far less processed food than supermarkets in the UK, but that's obviously not such a bad thing.  Maybe we have too much choice; everything is very convenient, and we've become very lazy.

No country is perfect, and the Netherlands is not without issues and problems of its own. But they have got a lot of things right.  And they do have a great sense of humour (just check out the Dutch tribute to Donald Trump on You-tube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELD2AwFN9Nc&feature=youtu.be ).

Back in the UK

I'm currently taking a break from the Netherlands. It's nothing personal, it's just the thought of two solid months of dark mornings, grey skies, wind, rain, and a limited social life, so I've come back to the UK.

I'll post again if (and when) I go back. Like a little tulip, maybe I'll see you in the spring.