The Break-Up

This is funny; I'm sitting smack dab in the middle of a movie theatre, completely alone, surrounded only by rows of plush red seats and soft jazz. I needed some peace and quiet, some time for my brain to sleep, some nothing. So I catch the tram and ignore my neighbor waving from across the street because if I miss this movie, these 90 minutes of witty banter and cliche heart tumbles and faceless actors I just might stick my head out of the next tram's window. But I'm here, here with my smuggled chocolate chip cookies, completely alone. I sought solitude and found it. Which is funny because now all I want is this movie to begin so I can hear some human voices to fill the empty spaces in these seats.

Also, I might go to Belgium tomorrow.

June 17

Today I went to Leiden -- a bustling little college town full of boats and markets and the oldest university in Holland. I bought pecans and smiled at the old people.

Bas the neighbor

Austin, Lauren & I were walking around the city (actually, looking for a place that sells my face medication; simple, but I had to go to a "pharmacy" where the employee obtained a tube from a locked cabinet.. scary). We were near the flat when a guy approaches us & said hello. He was Dutch & sort of punkish & young & told us his name is Bas. We all smiled & stared & blinked at him, & I racked my brain, trying to figure out if we had met him before since he was so comfortable to walk up & speak to us in English. He noticed our blank stares and said he lives in the flat across the street from ours & recognized me since he always sees me looking out the bedroom window. He said, "I always watch you, wondering what kind of woman you are. Now I see you & you have kids."

Of course I am embarrassed & immediately wonder what kind of oddities he has witnessed me do, like pick my nose or clip my toenails or do my ballet stretches. I have noticed his flat, he has graffiti art everywhere & aqua curtains.

Later Austin told me he didn't like him since he seemed bossy. "Bas the bossy," he called him.

Peeping Tom is probably more fitting, but I kept that little antidote to myself.

TONIGHT I:

decided to buy a bike and form a committee caleed the Old Dutch Feminists and have a slogan like "Young and Earnest" and stared at a statue that is a deep wine hue with rain drizzling down like blood red streaks and watched birds hatch and their parents who build and build their nest like home with wood and leaves and trash and scraps of metal and walked home in the rain minus one umbrella

Marlbolo moments

It doesn't even begin to get dark here until 10 pm. It's strange how much my body responds to light & dark. It is also strange how fit/unfit Europeans are. They walk everywhere. They drink green tea. And I still can't help but stare in amazement (half situation, half coordination) at the people peddling like pros for miles on their bikes with a cigarette dangling from their lips, puffing & peddling, puffing and peddling their way to strong calves & weak lungs. My favorite though are the women on bikes. They are truly talented: high heels, business skirts, briefcases, phones, kids, wine & ice cream -- there is nothing a Dutch lady & a bike can't handle.

AUTUMN-WINTER 1995-1996

"The mysterious traveler finds her roots in Mittle Europe, romantic black capes and coats worn inside out revealing the beauty of the inner surface, skirts with horsehair underskirts, bustles, jackets slit open over the bare skin of the back, slightly provocative."

You're not dumb, you're just not Dutch.

Pancakes. Glorious dutch pannekoek. How I love you. How I loathe you. Your delicious strength, plains of kaas and streams of bitter sukaar. My tummy fills with goodness while my thighs run in dispair.

Hup Holland!

[Even though the NL is out.]
Football is full of: yellow cards, red cards, headbutts and cute boys.

Patrick Swaize in Europe

Antwerp is dirty. But it has good vintage shops, which I guess sometimes go hand in hand. I get off the train and immediately find myself in the zoo. How does this happen? I never paid to see this elephant. Aren't animals scared of roaring locomotives?

I spend the night here but get no sleep. The german backpackers are heavy footed and serenade Belgium with renditions of Dirty Dancing.

Dag Vandag!

A young man approaches me on the street, brisk and enthusiastic, with a clipboard in his hands. I wait patiently as he sputters his schpiel in Dutch, then the usual: "Sorry," and a point to my mouth, "English only." He nods but is not listening to details. "English and what?" he says, not grasping my cues: darting eyes and shifting feet. "English only," I repeat. He nods again. "British?" I laugh. "No, American." He smiles now. "Ah, America," he says in a sing-song voice. He clutches his clipboard to his chest, his eyes slightly gazing. "I have family there you know," he continues. "Florida...or Iowa. Where are you from?" "Texas," I respond. Time is lost but I don't care anymore. He faces me now, his eyes narrowing. "Then how come I don't hear your cowgirl accent?" he says, his own voice thick and his smile sly. On some of us it is lost, I think, so I just shrug and back away.

Today I went to Amsterdam

So far we have been living in Den Haag, a town not too far from Amsterdam. Saturdays are my day off, so I decided to make a trip into town. I heard five languages on the tram ride, plus three different English speaking accents. I've noticed that even coughs and throat clears have an accent to them. The Austrailian guy kept coughing and I kept thinking, blessed kangaroo, even his hack sounds Austrailian.

Amsterdam is crowded: full of tourists and birds and boats, busy and compact with a lazy cafe undertone. I like Amsterdam enough but I fear it is losing its European romance, the charm that all cities with rivers, twinkling lights and pedestrian-only streets seem to posses. I wonder if the city sighs with relief after all the tourists have gone and the local old men with their rolled cigarettes and nightcaps can finally have some peace and quiet by the canals and the tulip shops. I wonder if it finally feels beautiful then.

dutch TV

Jimmy Nuetron in Dutch and the British cooking channel and the Simpsons and the Simpsons again, National Geographic and German MTV, the Netherlands news and many "datelines" Dutch style, the unrated version of American Pie and finally -- BBC's answer to Dancing with the Stars.

me time is tea time

Right now I am sitting in a dimly lit and smoke filled pub, seat awkwardly at the bar stool, my laptop open and exposed to my Gmail account next to a plate of mystery meat on a skewer which I thought would be a chicken breast upon ordering. Nevertheless it is tasty, although I am always nervous I will be the butt of some bad European joke.
I feel disconnected without the Internet, email, phone and wondered aimlessly, finally stumbling upon a sign that boasted FREE WIRELESS INTERNET! To my surprise, this is a bar, not some quaint cafe that sells homemade cakes and sandwiches, but I was too buy gaping at the naked man/woman mural to notice the smiley owner who asked more than once if I needed assistance. "How much is your internet?" I blurted. The only English sign in town and I screw it up.
The bartender is cross eyed and doesn't speak much English. He handed me my "culinary tools" and is standing right now behind the bar and to my left. I can't figure out if he is trying to stare or catch my attention or be observant, or finally if his crossed eyes are just a confusion for me.

The bartenders just asked me if they said "Hairy each other" or "carry each other" (in the song One Love by U2). :)!

HOLLAND

word of the day: DAG - hello/goodbye.
'G' is not said like an English 'g' (eg:dog) but with a hacking, fur-ball stuck in your throat type of noise.
"Dag Liesl!" -Austin

Dear Tima,

My trip was great. I want to move to London. I went to Ireland and fell off a horse because of course I would. More to come.
love, L

goodbye NOLA

My sister Heidi is back in Houston because New Orleans is being evacuated. Last time this happened it took her 14 hours to drive home. Luckily, Loyola took a que from last year's fiasco and cancelled school at the first hearing of a hurricane, so she made it in eight. Her friends took a shortcut (suggested on the radio) and ended up in Jackson, Mississippi because of closed roads. Rumor has it everybody left over in New Orleans is being put into the city dome! !!

i get to wear long sleeves again

Ireland/London in two weeks! eep!

train:gone

We may have found a house. Maybe.