tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-108888052024-03-19T03:59:35.328-07:00Pictures and StoriesUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger299125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-43297336473196519842020-04-12T06:36:00.001-07:002020-04-12T06:36:43.176-07:00This covid life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am watching newly discovered instagram tv (is that what IGTV stands for?), only slightly distracted by the occasional sight of my ugly over-washed scaly looking hands. It's Saturday afternoon here --though not the sort of saturdays we had in the old days when the day was split between ferrying the kids from gymnastics to swimming to de uithof for ice skating try-outs -- it's a covid saturday, so it really feels like every other day just broken up differently with make-believe schedules.<br />
<br />
This is, as we have been told repeatedly, quality family time. Not just immediate family time (like all other covid assumptions this 'family' one too is rooted in economic inequalities -- the assumption is one belongs to a 'regular' two parent family with a bunch of kids, maybe a dog or cat or some combination of pets, a well stocked pantry and fridge, lots of devices that hook up to a good wifi connection and plenty of equally happy and well stocked, well connected relatives around the world), with all of that in place these endless days are quality family time. Meaning we need to google meet, hangout, zoom etc with family. Smile, check on how everyone is, bring in the kids to say hello and screenshot the meeting for loving social media posting when it's over.<br />
<br />
I am old-fashioned and slow with social media (note my newly minted instagram obsession) so I still troll facebook for fun where it is standard these days to see images of split screen zoom chats with old classmates, family, work colleagues, PTA groups just about every form of pre-covid social grouping. Everybody on there smiling and laughing and captions that breathlessly record how absolutely exciting and heart warming it has been to catch up with blah and blah...<br />
<br />
And then there are the food posts -- dishes which quite frankly are closer to gourmet deli than pantry staple basics are whipped up by fit and lean and well groomed chefs (how are they getting their hair styled in these days of social distancing?) We are taught how to 'whip together' peas with pomegranate seeds and burrata, serve everything with chilled wines and sourdough loaves -- made with sourdough starters we just got from the tooth fairy presumably, while also taking a break to do a few asanas. <br />
<br />
We are also enjoying our homes, another lopsided assumption here, as 'home' could be a place fraught with danger and violence, it could be a jhuggi in bombay or a tarp under a flyover in calcutta. But for purposes of easy identification, let's leave 'home' to mean clean, sunny bright spaces, decorated in whatever style, but good enough to casually post all over our social media. Little careless pictures of porcelain jugs overflowing with bright flowers, ceramic plates filled with Easter lunches, shag rugs and sofas in a large riverside living room stuffed with sofas and couches where family members casually pore over their respective devices while 'amused mum' clicks a picture for her social media captioned with a cheery 'Does your living room look like this?" So much fun this world wide lockdown.<br />
<br />
Occasionally we are doing heartwarming things (which are quickly posted on social media too lest anyone forgets that fuzzy warm feeling too soon), we clap for nurses and other health workers, we light lamps and clang thalis, we leave gifts for the post men and women who have been bravely working through all of this, we stick cute teddy bears in our windows. And we 'play' lets distract ourselves from this terrible time social media games -- we post pictures of ourselves as happy parents, we post pictures of ourselves in saris, we make iced coffee, we even post 'love in the time of social distancing' challenges.<br />
<br />
When this is all over we will emerge from our picture-perfect sunny homes and flower-filled gardens wearing "We made it through our covid days" 100% organic cotton tee-shirts, most of us still won't be very clear about what it was all about, but we will continue to wash our hands several times a day and we will continue to not give a damn about everybody living outside our gilt edged lines of vision. And we will go back to our saturdays ferrying the kids from gymnastics and swimming and ice skating and blah and blah... </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-14315513428426995942018-04-19T04:13:00.000-07:002018-04-19T04:13:23.302-07:00Lentekriebels<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's a beautiful late spring day here in Amsterdam and like always on days like these, it's almost as if the whole place turns into a little corner of paradise. The bluest of blue skies, birds chirping with a sort of mad glee, a golden sunshine that you feel like bottling and storing away for the gloomier, grayer days that are always round the corner, people cycling by in light cottons and at the bottom of our sun-bathed garden tissue paper-like tiny white butterflies flutter by and fat bees hover over the newly bloomed spring flowers. It's all too beautiful and too fleeting. We have lived in many places but I think one of the charms of the Netherlands is the four clear seasons -- we see the year go by following an eternal unchanging cycle that is as old as humanity itself. There is something calming about knowing that no matter what, the short dark days of winter will be followed by the glowing joy of spring and then the endless dog days of late August.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-43762934849868779892016-08-03T13:22:00.001-07:002016-08-11T12:22:33.962-07:00A few memorable days in Siracusa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So now we are on our second 'mini vacation', this time to ancient beautiful Siracusa - located in the southeast of Sicily bordering the Ionian sea. Now designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, Siracusa has a rich history dating back to ancient Greek times when this 2,700 year old city was a major power in the Mediterranean world.<br />
<br />
----------<br />
<br />
Driving away from the town center, we made our way towards Fontane Bianche to give the kids a much-awaited day at the beach. A hot mid-morning sun burnt down as we drove through little roads past dry olive groves, giant cactii, cypress and other typical Mediterranean evergreen vegetation. We passed honey colored stone ruins, a War cemetery and then beautiful villas set in gardens of citrus and oleander, with simple wrought iron balconies and clean lines of symmetery.<br />
<br />
Earlier in the week driving in from the Catania airport to the city center of Siracusa where our apartment is located, the kids fell asleep in the taxi only to wake up 40 minutes later drenched in sweat, hot and thirsty. My four-year-old said: "Sicily is too hot and dry"; my older one was mesmerized by the giant wooden door that was the entrance to our apartment building. The huge door has a smaller wooden gate cut into it and stepping inside we entered a high-ceilinged foyer and a massive marble and wood staircase. The cavernous height of the foyer so unusual in our modern day living was something the kids didn't take to at first, but I absolutely loved the enormous sense of space!<br />
<br />
The high ceilings and cool marble floors, wrought iron balconies, wooden blinds and doors opening into rooms and cubby spaces heightens the old-time sense of the apartment.<br />
<br />
-------<br />
<br />
Another morning we drove to the San Lorenzo beach, which promises turquoise waters and white sands, fewer people and private beaches (all of which is true!) Driving through Sicilian landscape has a charm all of its own. Honey colored stone dwellings, an ancient castle in ruins, rocky hills, glimpses of briliiant sea, olive groves, cactii, oleander, stunted pines, limestone and red rock give the scenery unravelling before us an ancient Biblical feel. Many hours later as we drive back from San Lorenzo, a car full of tired satisfied kids and grown-ups who have spent hours in the warm sea and hot sands, we pass a shepherd a huge herd of sheep with a sheepdog leading them and two dogs bringing up the rear. The shepherd and his flock walk in almost straight file across a dusty narrow road surrounded by stunted olives -- the scene brings to life an Old Testament description of hot and dusty lands, a shepherd tending his flock a way of life where time stands still...<br />
<br />
<br />
Closer to Siracusa as we drove past hills with dry combustible vegetation we saw a small but powerful forest fire. The kids were enthralled (and a little scared!) to see the rows of 'burning trees' as we drove past a billowing thick black cloud of smoke.<br />
<br />
---------------------<br />
<br />
Food in Siracusa (and the rest of Sicily) is superlatively good. In a time when slow food movements, farmers' markets and free trade food products are fashionable by-words and much is made of farm-to-table cuisine, it is still something of a rarity to find truly superior, locavore produce that is easily available to local people ate prices that don't break the bank. In Siracusa you can eat magnificently, healthily and happily at amazing prices. Part of our family holidays include living locally, shopping and cooking our meals (at least our breakfasts and dinners) and exploring local markets and foods. Our food adventures in Siracusa began the minute we reached our apartment and our charming host showed us the well-stocked kitchen. She showed me a jar of pistachio crema and told me it came from her village. Our fruit basket was overflowing with locally grown peaches, tiny little pears, the famous Siracusa lemons; local biscotti and the most delicious mozarella I have eaten were also waiting for us in the thoughtfully stocked kitchen. The pantry cupboard was neatly lined with olive oils, balsamic vinegar, honey -- all of the highest quality.<br />
<br />
All the food we ate during our stay here, both restaurant and home cooked was quite delicious -- simple clean flavors, unfussy meals, little feasts celebrating everyday life.<br />
<br />
One of my best meals was the wooden tray with fried seafood: octopus, squid, shrimp and a delicate nest of crisp potato bits. Served with fresh bread and quality olive oil. <br />
<br />
The Gusto food market and deli is a high-end store not far from Via Somalia where our apartment was located. We found delicious breaded cutlets in the deli and unusual wholegrain biscottis.<br />
------<br />
<br />
The 'Ear of Dionysius' at the archaeological park was quite fascinating both for its sense of the long gone by past and its marvellous acoustics which even today works so well. The day we visited the park it was scorching hot, so with many frequent water breaks we walked around the ruins of a Greek theater, the Roman arena and later the ear of Dionysius.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">The San Lorenzo beach, about an hour's drive from Siracusa (it should have been 40 minutes or so but we got lost a few times..) is beautiful. The waters are travel brochure picturesque, the sand hot and white and we decided to rent beach umbrellas and chairs from a private resort that allowed day visitors. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">As everybody probably knows already the Italians love their beaches and summer is the time to get the family together -- the whole family -- head to a favorite italian beach, rent the lido and have the vacation of their life, till next year.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: wf_segoe-ui_normal, "Segoe UI", "Segoe WP", Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">The crowd at San Lorenzo beach was no exception. Largely local, family-oriented beach bodies in all shapes and sizes and much happiness, chatter and laughter in the warm beautiful shallow waters of the Mediterranean.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: wf_segoe-ui_normal, "Segoe UI", "Segoe WP", Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: wf_segoe-ui_normal, "Segoe UI", "Segoe WP", Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">///////:::::</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: wf_segoe-ui_normal, "Segoe UI", "Segoe WP", Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: wf_segoe-ui_normal, "Segoe UI", "Segoe WP", Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">I used to be a real left-leaning liberal in my fresh out of university days. Over the years for a number of reason unnecessary to get into here I have moved away from Left leaning politics toward a more in-between place. Not right-leaning nowhere close to that but somewhere in the center of basically pro-left and sensibly moderate.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: wf_segoe-ui_normal, "Segoe UI", "Segoe WP", Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">However, I was hurtled back to my Left wing roots during the one hour boat ride we took with our friendly guide, around the waters of Siracusa. As we sat in the perfectly safe comfortable boat, with a life jacket reassuringly placed in front of us and a friendly knowledgeable guide, the boat rocked gently as we passed the Siracusa duomo and a short while later the now out of use prison with its rocky walls. But in that moment as the boat rocked gently, an image from somewhere in the recesses of my mind popped up: a headline in the new york times (a small DC somewhere below the Page 1 fold) briefly outlining how a boat with 80 migrants on board capsized in the sea off the coast of somewhere close to Italy. I read that, it meant nothing just another horrible but thankfully remote headline about refugees from Syria. But now sitting in this boat, on this beautiful sea that will geographically at some point possibly link to that other sea, it is possible to imagine the terror of those people to some slight degree. And then I thought how horrendous their existing life must be that they risk everything to make this journey over the open waters with nothing but their hope of a better life. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">At the Catania airport UNHCR volunteers have a booth seeking donations for a refugee center that is in the process of being built in Tuinisa. The booth has a large poster showing the blue sea, a small raft like boat crwoded with people faces distorted with the basic human emotion of fear and one of those faces belongs to a young boy of not more than 11. It doesn't look a staged poster to me. I don't know how many people donate through this UNHCR booth but I do think just having the booth there is a good thing, a reminder that while so many of us are fortunate enough to take wonderful summer vacations, so many others just try to survive.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: , "segoe ui" , "segoe wp" , "tahoma" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
Coda<br />
As a family we fell in love with the tangy, delicious limone granita which must be a national Sicilian summer drink! Utterly refreshing it's the perfect thing to drink on a summer day when temperatures were in the mid-30s.<br />
And I cannot sign off without a mention of another truly delicious discovery: pistachio crema, think organic almond paste, then substitute the almonds with pistachio. Amazing!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-63910912258345903422016-07-09T12:42:00.001-07:002016-07-28T01:59:37.531-07:00Vienna Notes...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've spent a few enjoyable days in the beautiful city of Vienna... In random order I record a few impressions:<br />
<br />
<br />
--- Historic downtown Vienna has such very interesting architecture and St. stephen's Cathedral, one of the city's most beloved landmarks is magnificent with its Gothic south tower and baroque altar pieces. Every night from our sixth floor apartment just a stone's throw away, we see the Cathedral lit up and it is truly beautiful. During the many walks (and one fun horse carriage ride which the kids loved!) through downtown Vienna we saw other examples of fine architecture and sculpture in this one of Europe's most historic cities.<br />
<br />
--- Our little girls loved Vienna just as much as we did and one of the reasons for that, apart from the incredible child-friendliness of the city (and we live in Amsterdam so the bar is pretty high) was the Schonnbrun palace and zoo. The zoo gardens are a World a Heritage Site but even before we got to visit all its attractions (my favorite was Gloriette Hill) on the panorama train, the family fell in love with the ice bear! And before that the kids climbed the wooden outpost to try looking out for foxes!<br />
<br />
--- We ate every kind of wurst, drank beer and tried out amazing pastries and other Viennese sweet treats, we also did what I truly enjoy doing on these trips as we always choose to live in short stay apartments rather than hotels, shop in local supermarkets and delis. I was happy to find a different kind of Spar here, more upscale than our neighborhood one, the Spar is called Spar Gourmet here and had a wide selection of food fruit etc as well as a nice deli section.<br />
<br />
--- Taxis in Vienna are relatively cheap, the drivers are friendly and relaxed. Cabs are not the spotless kinds you find in Amsterdam but then they are about half the fare and very easily available. The Kunsthistorichesmuseum with the Natural history museum housed in the identical building opposite was another family favorite. My nine-year-old was fascinated with the story behind Breughel's Tower of Babel while she and her younger sister spent a few enthralled hours later at the natural history museum where skillful taxidermy was the subject of much discussion though the dinosaurs won the day hands down.<br />
<br />
--- My personal shopping quest on this trip was the prefect ring! I found it at a lovely little jewelry shop tucked away in one of the alleys off Stephenplatz -- a beautiful coral and gold creation!! Vienna has truly charming jewelry and paper shops and I didn't spend as much time as I could have browsing these in our neighborhood!<br />
<br />
---Freud lived and worked in this house, Bergasse 19 in Vienna's ninth district from 1891 till 1938 when he was forced by National Socialists to flee into exile in England. There is something thrilling about walking through the premises where Dr Freud actually worked, his worn leather work bag with his initials on it and a few other personal items create a sense of intimacy even after all these years. Original furnishings including the waiting room and signed works of Freud as well as film material showing the Freud family in the 1930s all help to recreate the world of Dr Freud.<br />
Though I did enjoy this little gem of a museum I have to say the museum shop was borderline ridiculous in its offerings. A little more thought and creativity can be put into what is up for sale and silly mouse pads and coffee mugs can give way to something that befits its cerebral subject a little more.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-33231806620100807702016-04-16T12:02:00.000-07:002016-04-16T12:02:03.605-07:00And another one on this life that I lead...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For this post I'm riffing on a good friend's random musing...<br />
<br />
Said friend was preparing for a short trip with her family to London where she would stay with her friends who last saw her several years ago when she was a young blood whizkid with a freshly minted MBA made in the USA. Now she is a much-lived-and-experienced expat stay at home mom of two.<br />
'My friend is going to ask me 'so what do you do with ALL the time you must have now???" she said wryly to me and that sent me back to a meeting with my uncle (also in London) last year. I was meeting this uncle after about five years -- I am also a stay at home much-lived-and-experienced expat mom of two -- as we crowded into his small but cosy living room with loads of cousins, aunts, new babies, older babies, grand aunts with diabetes and spouses fighting boredom, my uncle jovially shouted out at me "So! what do you do all day?? Go out to lunch?" and he laughed happily at his own wit.<br />
<br />
Well yes I guess to the outside world we expat wives lead a glamorous glitzy life with our international school circuit, mini vacations throughout the year, fat cat contracts with free language lessons thrown in and assignments that seamlessly take us around the world in two-year cycles from Taipei to Amsterdam. Ah so much blissful fun.<br />
<br />
It helps that few in that outside world get to see us during one of our 'meltdown moments' that usually occur when you are surrounded by a mountain of brown cardboard packing boxes in an empty house that is in every way an opposite to the last house you called home; in a strange country where everyone speaks a language that sounds like the ripping of the steel gray adhesive tape that is used to close said packing boxes. Your hair looks awful as the new weather has completely changed its texture, you are tired of dealing with kids who want everything from old and familiar friends to old and familiar food 'right now'; husband is out doing mundane but important settling in outside work like getting a vacuum cleaner that works with the new voltage and a large bin for the kitchen. And then the moving company people begin to give you a tough time and then, you, let lose a volley of your best swear words and the men who were a moment before whinging about the weight of your books look as if they wish the floor would open up and swallow them all (or better still, you) right at this moment. <br />
<br />
It helps also that few in the outside world know how hard you work to settle the kids securely into a new world of school, friendships, after school activities, teachers, playdates, doctors' appointments, dentists' appointments and all those other little things that regular stay-in-the-same-place-forever people take so much for granted but can be so daunting to transplanted families in every new place they move to.<br />
<br />
And then you have your supermarket disaster moments -- who hasn't lived in Tokyo and bought a huge plastic bottle of bleach thinking it is fabric softener (who, that is, who doesn't know how to read Japanese fluently and happens to find herself navigating Tokyo's little neighborhood supermarket hunting through bottles and boxes marked with illegible squiggles, lines and dots); or the time when you stared helplessly at the impossible madness of Hong Kong's Park n' Shop on May Road -- what would you ever find inside that chaos? (actually everything as anyone who has lived in Hong Kong for anything over 1 week knows!) or how about the massive dislocation of a Bay Area Target where simply locating the pharmacy section for a home pregnancy test resembles something close to an Easter egg hunt. <br />
<br />
And in the middle of all of this we do manage to lead normal-ish lives -- our kids, who probably know more airport lounges than 'regular' kids of their age, will get through their international school lives and will move on, our homes will hold together across many different countries, our expat borderless friendships and bonds are stronger than people realize and while we do not spend all of our time lunching and brunching, we do manage to get that done as well. And the difference is our lunches and brunches usually have a minimum quota of three different nationalities around one table, and that is an experience I'm not ready to trade in as yet.<br />
<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-69417221403501258652015-12-31T03:55:00.002-08:002015-12-31T03:55:33.367-08:00Two good proposals lost in translation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I like Facebook's Free Basics concept, I showed my support for the project by signing Facebook's electronic petition to TRAI and by sending a 'missed call' (along with 'call drop' these are two of the most frequently used words in urban India) to a number that is collecting support for the project.<br />
<br />
I am not sure why people are trying to block Free Basics, according to a debate I watched on television last night, it seems the opposition is not to the concept but rather to the fact that Facebook is pushing the plan. This seems to me a classic Indian case of stopping something good just because the idea has come from outside. I hope it goes ahead despite all the opposition.<br />
<br />
Delhi's idiotic response to the odd/even number plate issue is also incomprehensible. It is a straightforward proposal that has been used in crowded cities all over the world, the response to it is typical Delhi brainlessness.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-31770901499110428362015-12-31T03:48:00.000-08:002016-01-10T11:57:10.770-08:00you can never go home again...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
India is in the middle of many changes, some obvious to the returning native (that's a silly expression but it sort of works -- and I certainly like it better than the idiotic NRI acronym) -- and some more subtle but very welcome.<br />
<br />
We spend our approximately 3-week break split between two cities, Calcutta and Bombay. These are cities we know very well, have grown up in, have worked in and have our roots somewhere deep in their arsenic or otherwise murky subsoil.<br />
<br />
I'm going to put down my impressions and thoughts in my usual 'cluster of points' way just because that's always more fun for me to read later. None of these impressions are in any particular order.<br />
<br />
POLLUTION: just awful in both cities. Calcutta's air is thick with gray smog as we drive into the city from a very efficiently organized Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose airport. Our eyes smart, throats scratch after a very short walk from the airport entrance to a waiting car that will take us towards Park Street, the shahibi- para of my childhood. The pollution is caused in a large part by the huge amount of construction activity that has taken over the city. Flyovers, apartment blocks, hotels, shopping malls and every other structure in varying degrees of ugly architectural style are mushrooming all over the place. The result is a churning of incredible quantities of road dust covering every surface in thick unbreathable grayness. The large numbers of cars crowding Calcutta's narrow streets are doing their bit to filthy up the air.<br />
<br />
Not surprisingly air purifiers are the new big home appliance in India. Different brands advertise filters of varying numbers each promising to make in-house air cleaner and healthier.<br />
<br />
THE DIVIDE: As always rich Calcuttans live a life far removed from the grit dust and pollution of its teeming streets, lanes and by-lanes. Homes are quiet, cleaned by an efficient army of helpers, beautifully furnished interiors show off lovely local wood furniture sold by stores like Fabindia. Despite the apeing of the West, affluent urban Indians are reveling in a resurgence of celebration of all things desi. Beautiful Indian crafts, fabric, silver ware and wood are proudly displayed and used in high-end living room interiors.<br />
<br />
Fabindia's tasteful Allenby road store has a beautiful selection of furniture, crafts, home accessories and soft furnishings all sourced from local materials and all celebrating traditional Indian art and craft techniques.<br />
<br />
Calcutta's club culture, a remnant of our colonial past, thrives during this late winter season when returning natives visit from their homes all over the world. Afternoons at the Saturday Club lawns in the soft winter sunshine are time-warped in a way only a Calcuttan will understand. Bearers in white uniform and genuinely kind temperament wander between the white cloth covered garden tables serving Darjeeling tea, some kind of coffee, greasy but delicious mutton shingaras, Flury's (without the apostrophe but I am too old-fashioned) cakes and the evergreen favorite lime soda.<br />
<br />
Prices in central Calcutta restaurants, stores and tea and coffee places reflect the current Indian<br />
economy. Everything now costs about 50-100 times what it did even five years ago<br />
Sometimes it's impossible to feel comfortable paying 2000 rupees for a pot of tea and some cakes at Flury's -- though this is just about €28 but in Indian prices it seems absurd. I discussed this with Sadhu, my ground-level guide and my sister's driver and a person who has seen us growing up over<br />
the years. He proudly reminded me how he had been there for all our weddings, 'dekte dekte pandhra-<br />
sola saal nikal gaya' he said with typical Indian nostalgia.<br />
<br />
<br />
He agrees prices have risen phenomenally but salaries have also risen for the working class. He is doing well enough with his own house in Howrah, but he is also fortunate to have a good well-paying job. He talks about some others who are not faring so well, but on the whole he agrees job opportunities have grown.<br />
<br />
He tells me that the minimum amount you can reasonably give somebody asking for alms on the street, is rupees 10. Indian has an archaic law on street begging which is a criminal activity, to get around this poor people sell all kinds of things from helium balloons to soggy rotten strawberries from little makeshift trays that push at car windows stuck in every traffic jam on the city streets.<br />
<br />
THE PARK STREET CHRISTMAS FESTIVAL and ENTALLY: so from around December 21 to 31 the south end of Park Street anchored by Flury's the big Queens Mansions-Karnani Mansions blocks down to St. Xavier's college and the seventh day Adventist school is heavily illuminated, shops decorated, and sidewalk stalls selling good quality food and drink and small crafts are set up. This is the grand Park Street festival aimed to capitalize on Park Street's traditional shahibi-para status. The festival is the brainchild of West Bengal's impetuous and temperamental chief minister Mamata Banerjee. I am not sure what purpose is achieved, but probably it brings in a lot of money for shops and establishments on the massively crowded streets. All of these places stayed open late into the night, vehicular traffic is closed, police arrangements are heavy but all of this seems to attract hordes of people who crowd the streets eating everything from momos to cakes and kathi rolls. Smiling down on all the chaos is a benevolent Santa dressed in dhuti and lit in million lights.<br />
<br />
A universe away from this spending festive spree is the sprawl of the Entally basti that we pass a few<br />
days later on our way to the airport. Covered in a cloud of gray dust the basti comprises rows of<br />
makeshift little huts. Children not horribly malnourished as we used to see them before, but normal-<br />
sized and clothed play badminton or ball right in the line of moving cars and scooters. Men sit idly on stringy dusty charpais, woman tired looking weather beaten dressed in sarees worn to rags do small chores, sit around chatting or picking nits from scraggly haired kids. Even amid all this dust, poor ness and desperate humanity I feel there has been improvement. Slums in Calcutta during my childhood years were inhumanly impoverished. Children would roam the streets naked with distended bellies, there would be human and animal defecation in equal measures, there were no make shift huts just tarpaulin sheets. In some ways this seems to be an improved poverty in these bastis, some improved standard of life but still a great yawning gap between these Entally jhupris and the living rooms of Park Street and Ballygunge Place.<br />
<br />
PUBLIC RESTROOMS there was a time when I would never attempt to use a restroom anywhere in public in Calcutta or Bombay (unless of course it was inside a club or five star hotel). Over the last two years this is something that has absolutely and visibly changed. When we reached the Chhatrapati Shivaji airport in Bombay my young girls were in desperate need of a loo. Earlier the only possible option would have been to drive to one of the nearby hotels around he airport and use the bathrooms there. This time I took the kids to he restrooms just on the opposite side of the luggage conveyor belts. The loos were clean, really clean, the wash basins were clean and dry. The soap dispensers were filled and clean dry paper towels were in abundant supply. Earlier in Calcutta, my sister found a perfectly clean and usable bathroom in the small Landmark mall near the air conditioned market for my four year old to use. The Title Waves bookshop in Bandra had a wonderfully well maintained restroom tucked away in a corner of the store. While public bathrooms<br />
are always a matter of luck anywhere in the world (one of the filthiest public washrooms I ever<br />
encountered was in Singapore's very fancy Holland Village shopping center) while the cleanest public bathroom I ever used was in Seoul's multi-facility Severance government and teaching hospital, another very clean was one was a tiny little bathroom in a charming breakfast place in Athens close<br />
to a very crowded tourist bus parking spot. In most Indian cities public facilities have always been a<br />
matter of horror even in upscale shops or establishments. This is definitely changing now. Airports, malls, many stores etc are working hard to maintain and keep clean rest rooms and while there is always room for improvement, the very fact that this is being noticeably done now is very positive.<br />
<br />
And I must also mention the new and very modern looking public convenience facility built by ITC on Russell Street in Calcutta. This is particularly praiseworthy given india's truly horrible old style public conveniences.<br />
<br />
GOVERNMENT FORMS, MODI AND KEJRIWAL we filled out forms for our new Aadhar cards, identification documents being promoted by this government (though the system was set in place by the last government). The forms had a significant 'new India surreal moment' (I call these surreal moments because they are so absolutely out of the place with the rest of everything that is happening around you) for example as we were driving through Calcutta's New Town development which is full of newly constructed apartment blocks, a Metro station, dusty empty spaces, a Novotel and some malls, I saw prominently placed by a bus stop two gleaming steel large size waste bins with the words 'organic waste' 'inorganic waste' proudly inscribed on them in red. There by the side of that forlorn looking bus stop where a mother in synthetic dull shalwar Kameez and worn out face carried a sleeping toddler over her shoulder, those bins seemed almost Kafkaesque in their oddness. Who will be the separator of this waste? Anyway, another such brilliantly odd moment appeared on the Aadhar card firm in the section entitled 'gender' it asked the filler to identify herself or himself as 'male' 'female' or 'transgender'. In a country where the archaic British era Section 377 remains rigidly in<br />
place criminalizing homosexuality and any form of sex between consenting adults other than heterosexual,, india's new found love of transgendered people seems a little misplaced.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I saw my first ever TV interview of Delhi chief minister Arvind Kejriwal. A wild card man of the<br />
<br />
masses seemingly apolitical politician, Kejriwal was impressive in the direct way he spoke, unassuming and so unlike our politicians it made me very happy. Of course there is much criticism of Kejriwal his style of governance and all the rest.<br />
<br />
I do not think I am a die hard Modi supporter, there is much about him that I find objectionable but it cannot be denied that his emphasis on public hygiene is an excellent thing. He is the first Indian Prime Minister to make hygiene and cleanliness such an open and important part of his government. TV ads on the importance of hand washing specially for children cannot be under estimated. India is a country where many illnesses spread just because of poor or non existent hygiene and dealing with this issue in a public way is extremely important.<br />
<br />
MALL RATS Calcutta and Bombay are redefining themselves with their malls and supermarkets and in general in the way people shop (I think this would hold true for other big Indian cities as well). People buy books online from Flipkart or Amazon while retail online hubs sell big brand clothing, homewards and food stuff. The Quest mall in Calcutta is housed in an ugly architectural structure, but this seems to be the way forward aesthetically in much of this city.<br />
The mall itself could be in any city of the world, standard European brands (Zara, Mango) London's Accessorize and an impossibly expensive Hamleys store are all here. Indian big names like Fabindia and the rather eclectic Global Desi also have stores here. The food court on the top most level has been set up in the manner of popular Malaysian malls, in fact much of the mall reminded me of Bangsar Village in Kuala Lumpur.<br />
<br />
Godrej's nature basket online offers gourmet food shopping and home delivery in Bombay, Reliance Fresh offers a more affordable option. Health foods in India (think quinoa or oats) are marketed with<br />
a desi touch, breakfast oats is sold in chatpata salsa and nimbu masala flavors.<br />
<br />
COFFEE AND STARBUCKS Coorg grows good arabica coffee and South Indian filter coffee (not the chicory laden stuff but the genuine drink) has always had a strong following in the country, but on the whole Indian coffee is terrible. I was happy to find Starbucks here (though I would never say Starbucks serves good coffee!) just because the espresso was a standard Starbucks brew and that was better than what one would find in most Indian coffee chain shops.<br />
<br />
<br />
=========================</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-50587033523144769912015-10-09T15:30:00.004-07:002015-10-17T10:53:44.429-07:00my expat life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">For people like us who live nomadic lives by choice, there are times we get stuck in a place. We believe we are going to be in Hong Kong or Amsterdam for the rest of our lives. Of course we won't. 'Rest of our lives' is too remote we are 'short term' people. We live 2-3 years in a place. We make friends -- we love fiercely, we live life intensely and we set up homes like we'll never leave. But we do. We leave. And it is sad. It's bittersweet .. It's the expat life. We live well but we live small deep slivers of life in strange cities that inconceivably become home. And after a decade of this life, I will have it no other way. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-75535517740610156402015-10-02T05:25:00.001-07:002015-10-03T07:50:35.310-07:00Bright lights, big city<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday I visited Amsterdam. Really visited Amsterdam. Before I go further, I am a city-from-a-distance person. I love the big city, I love visiting it, flirting with it, clinging to it but then leaving it and returning to my surburbia. I love the safety order and affluence of surburban life. I need the quiet orderly spaces, the boundaries, the keeping edginess at bay security of living outside the big city. That is why from Hong Kong to California to Kuala Lumpur to Amsterdam, I have always opted to live away from the bright lights. And so whenever I visit the city, I love it..I really do but then I am always happy to head back to my quiet neck of the woods away from the bright lights, rawness and over exposure of the big bad world out there.<br />
<br />
+++++++++++++<br />
<br />
<br />
So there I was in Amsterdam yesterday. I took the kids for a day out, we headed to the Albert Cuyp market and started our day out with lunch at a Japanese restaurant just at the entrance to the sprawling street market.<br />
The market is located in the heart of the 19th century De Pijp neighborhood, often referred to as Amsterdam's Latin Quartier. There is much to see and browse through as you walk by the over 200 stalls that make up the market, but this is the big city so stalls selling woolen socks and sewing notions stand shoulder to shoulder with stalls selling crotchless lingerie and decidedly raunchy totes.<br />
The large bottle blond woman running the falafel and frites shop on a little side street of the main market thoroughfare, looks like someone who has seen her share of life. With multiple ear piercings, tiny beady eyes and beefy tattooed arms she alarms my eight-year-old who asks worriedly "Why does she look like this?" Minutes later, safe with her paper cone of fries smothered in ketchup she forgets all about the woman, and doesn't notice the smooth looking john who walks into the shop with his Dutch version of Pamela Anderson draped on his arm.<br />
<br />
++++++++++++<br />
<br />
I stop for a truly wonderful espresso macchiato at a cafe that has an edgy vibe and excellent desserts. The barista is dressed in black, of indeterminate gender and very friendly. Sitting outside in beautiful early Fall afternoon sunshine sipping the coffee, kids busy with delicious chocolate truffles, I inhale the sweet weed smoke casually being exhaled by a smoker (with a terrible cough) at the coffeeshop neighboring our cafe. A dark man dressed in a hoodie and baggy pants smiles nastily at me as he passes us, then stops to suggestively stroke the half-naked woman's poster that has been stuck to the wall of a nearby building, looking back at our table as he does so with the same leery smirk stuck on his face.<br />
The children remain thankfully oblivious to our passing perv.<br />
<br />
+++++++++++++++++++<br />
<br />
Later we walk through some streets of De Pijp to get to the Van Baerlestraat tram stop. The streets are bordered with typical Dutch houses, tall bikes parked outside, an organic food supermarket, a small shop selling music books and vintage music sheets and a sun-filled square surrounded by ethnic restaurants. A man with guitar case strapped to his back walks behind us for much of the way, he is whistling (beautifully) a tune that sounds somewhat like the old Scottish folk song, My bonnie lies over the ocean.. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-76048276288846038022015-08-16T13:36:00.002-07:002015-08-17T01:37:12.701-07:00Alcala de Henares<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wandering through the half empty streets of picturesque Alcala de Henares it's easy to believe you have stepped into the pages of a forgotten book about long ago. Moorish red brick architecture, ancient looking universities with a quiet late-summer air about them, porticoed street fronts lining narrow cobbled streets, Church bells ringing and massive heron nests built on top of steeple towers.<br />
<br />
Walking through Calle Mayor on our way to visit the house where Miguel de Cervantes was born (Museo casa natal de Cervantes), we pass the ancient building of Hospital Antezana. This hospital, said to be the oldest in Europe, is famous both because it is where St. Ignatius of Loyala (founder of the Jesuits) is said to have worked and also because it is possibly where Miguel de Cervantes' father, a surgeon named Rodrigo is said to have worked. Today the hospital still houses elderly patients.<br />
<br />
Inside the perfectly preserved house where Cervantes was born, we see the surgery where his father would have once worked. The room (and the rest of the house) is a detailed replica of how it must have once been. The children's, ladies and maids room with its little wooden crib, child's bed and detailed 'bathroom' including chamber pot was a subject of much fascination for the girls.<br />
<br />
Later as we walk around the almost deserted Plaza Cervantes we spot more grand heron nests built on the highest towers of surrounding buildings in the nearby Jewish quarter. Sinister looking grey herons stand motionless guards over some of the nests.<br />
<br />
<br />
-------------------------------<br />
<br />
The Spanish trains (the Renfe system) and the stations, Atocha and Chamartin are efficient, easy to use and very visitor-friendly. Trains run smoothly on time and stations are well laid out with accessible guides and helpful staff. <br />
<br />
----------</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-14433729253265115862015-08-15T13:36:00.001-07:002015-08-17T12:37:12.906-07:00The streets of Madrid (overrun by us, tourists) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The one problem with overly touristy destinations is just that -- they become overly touristy destinations! Madrid's Puerta del Sol, in ancient times one of the gates of Madrid and later the scene of historic events, including assassinations and declarations is today home to every kind touristy moneygrubbing trick in the book. From body-painted characters to a woman on 'invisible stilts' to dressed up characters in shabby costumes including Minions, Minnie Mouse even a Mutant Ninja turtle wander the square going up to little children offering them candy, balloons or a photo opportunity; and then right in the middle of the square a very Hispanic-looking Michael Jackson lookalike dancing to Beat It is surrounded by a large circle of curious onlookers. <br />
<br />
A little way along, the Plaza Mayor suffers from a similar fate of over-'touristization', sub-standard eateries and bars encircle the historic square, shops selling tacky souvenirs are a dime a dozen here and even the exciting Mercado de San Miguel was so crowded it was impossible to get even elbow room at any one of the dozens of stalls selling wonderful things to eat and drink.<br />
<br />
Still, get off the beaten track and Madrid's streets are wonderful with their old squares and wedding cake building facades and shop fronts ranging from a quaint Gepetto and Pinochhio treasure house to a small stylish Desigual outlet. Most of all, the streets of Madrid are wonderful with its imposing domes and spires soaring into the clearest of blue summer skies<br />
<br />
==================<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-82216690198861148532015-08-15T13:13:00.003-07:002015-08-15T13:13:56.488-07:00Escape to Segovia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We escaped the heat of Madrid with a wonderful day trip to Segovia.<br />
<br />
<br />
First the beautiful weather but even before that, the magnificent aqueduct soaring into a clear cobalt blue sky with 'dinosaur clouds dog clouds and aeroplane clouds' (according to my little one) is probably one of the most amazing sights I have seen on this trip -- and there have been many amazing sights on this trip!<br />
Whenever I see these very ancient and very fantastic architectural sites what always fascinates me is how the site was constructed in the first place all those many many years ago. This aqueduct is said to have been raised here by the Romans in the 1st century AD, with not a drop of mortar to hold more than 20,000 uneven blocks of granite together!<br />
<br />
===================<br />
<br />
From the aqueduct we walked uphill through the streets of Segovia towards Plaza Meyor in search of a good lunch. We decided to skip the suckling pig places just because the sight of a full pig on a plate would probably give my older girl total heartbreak! We found a beautifully situated restaurant-cafe on a higher point of Calle Cervantes and ordered many good things including sausage which is the more palatable form of suckling pig.<br />
<br />
After a good lunch we carried on our walk uphill through the quaintest cobblestoned alleyways, daringly narrow in places past little shops stuffed with all manner of souvenir from made-in-china tacky to downright gorgeous. We walked down a few steps and out into a wide open circular area (the bus stop) with a panoramic view of the town, a few locals taking an early afternoon stroll and a small uninspiring black and white photography exhibit of Indians in the Amazon basin by a photographer who is a native Sergovian.<br />
<br />
--------------------------<br />
<br />
The late Gothic style Cathedral here is magnificent. Interestingly though built in late Gothic style, the cathedral's dome indicates that architecture had already moved into the Restoration by the time this was built around 1630.<br />
It is located in the main square, plaza mayor, of Segovia and on Thursdays the town holds its weekly open market here. By the time we got to the square, the market was closing down, a lone woman seller with her handful of embroidered table cloths and openwork sundresses was fussing around her stall endlessly arranging and re-arranging her few wares.<br />
Tucked into a corner of this plaza is the Limon y Menta pasteleria, justifiably famous. It has many delicious little cookies, biscuits and pastries. But of course I was there for the ponche segovian, that amazing Segovian treat made from mazapan, egg yolk custard and cinnamon-y cream. I don't know exactly what is in this treat but it was just total deliciousness!!<br />
<br />
===================<br />
<br />
The Alcazar here is supposed to have inspired Disney's castle for Sleeping Beauty. With that reference point in mind, my kids loved it!! The castle has spectacular sweeping views of Segovia from its terrace (which was once an original Roman camp), the rooms are stately and musty enough to inspire awe, the cellars are deep down below in the bowels of the castle and the moat is a dizzying sheer drop from the castle entrance.<br />
A deep well in the terrace, covered with a heavy iron grating, made my girls really happy -- perhaps this after all, was the home of the frog prince?<br />
<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-14925757304976192292015-08-12T11:23:00.001-07:002015-08-12T11:23:20.604-07:00A lesson in art<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Visiting El Museo de arte Thyssen-Bornemisza was a richly learning experience made so much more enjoyable by the fact that the museum was pleasantly uncrowded. Some guidebooks describe the Thyssen-Bornemisza as displaying "major works of minor artists and minor works of major artists", that description to me is just plain misleading. I prefer to call the museum a walk through the progression of western art from the 13th to the late 20th century, with some very interesting early works of great artists that are important just because they are early works.<br />
<br />
An early Van Gogh for instance, the Watermill (1880) and then Stevedores at Arles (1888) are both so interesting because they are indicative of what is to come in later works. I found Stevedores to be particularly captivating, with what amounts to the use of two colors only, Van Gogh captures an evocative sea and sky. And the restlessness of Stevedores at Arles mirrors the artist's brilliant but unstable mind rather poignantly.<br />
<br />
I loved Lichtenstein's woman in the bathtub (but that was already one of my all-time favorites) and I was so happy to be able to see it for real! But a painting that really stayed with me long after our visit was over and we were walking back towards our apartment, was Edward Hopper's 'Hotel Room' -- the emptiness of the hotel room, the lonely woman and the forlorn luggage next to her beautifully expressed the underlying futility and essential alone-ness of all human experience.<br />
<br />
<br />
=============================<br />
<br />
<br />
Spain seems to have very definite times for eating and getting used to a Madrid routine really means eating later than one is used to and stretching out the day as long as possible, particularly pleasing during the summer months I guess. Lunch is usually between 1pm -4 and restaurants and cafes are crowded at this time. Like all tourism-centric European cities though, attempting to get a decent meal around famous museums or historic sites is a an impossible feat. Almost all the restaurants, cafes and eateries have standard terrible food choices, many of them printed on laminated card with ugly pictures to show you what the dish should look like. Here it is a mix of paellas, squid, nachos and patatas bravas. Of course to get the really nice food what you need to do is avoid the tourist traps or search out the higher end restaurants and then sit back and enjoy!!<br />
<br />
<br />
===============</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-64068063821379119482015-08-10T13:04:00.001-07:002015-08-10T23:21:07.078-07:00August in Madrid -- II and Visiting Toledo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We are staying in a lovely apartment overlooking the main entrance of the Buen Retiro Gardens. We had the smallest walk this evening in a tiny corner of the gardens on our way back to the apartment. Even the little bit we walked through was all tree-lined, calm and very green. We passed a small playground, many serious runners and one young couple on a wooden bench. Later at around 10 pm, from our apartment balcony, we saw groups of people, families with kids, tour groups and couples around the garden entrance, some going in at that late hour (not late at all in summer time Madrid), some coming out with kids holding balloons -- all of them excited, animated and lively making the most of the very last bits of daylight.<br />
<br />
<br />
-----------------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
Toledo is a spiritual, ancient sun-baked spectacle with its crenellated skyline dominated by the Cathedral, the city is surrounded by the River Tajo on three sides and two medieval walls on the fourth side. It is one of Europe's most historic cities and was declared a UNESCO world heritage site in 1986. The history of Toledo dates back to Roman occupation circa 192BCE. Roman occupation was followed by Visigoth rule, Muslim rule and finally the reconquest of the city in 1085CE. The city remained capital of the Spanish empire till the middle of the 1500s when the Royal court moved to Madrid.<br />
Armed with this potted history of Toledo and an excited desire to see one of the greatest works of art in the Western world, we made our way from Madrid's Atocha station to Toledo using the comfortable Renfe operated train.<br />
<br />
-----------------------<br />
<br />
The first thing we see as we leave Toledo station and head up the hills to the great Cathedral, the city's centerpiece, is 'Hong Kong supermercado' and a Chinese restaurant, relatively new additions to this ancient town.<br />
The Cathedral is truly impressive perhaps the elaborate choir in the center of the nave and the treasury are my two most favorite parts of this Cathedral with parts of its impressive architecture dating back to the 13th century.<br />
The Cathedral allows no photography just like the Iglesia de Santo Tome which houses the beautiful El Greco masterpiece, 'The Burial of the Count of Orgaz'. Of course this doesn't stop selfie-obsessed tourists from clustering around selfie sticks with manic arm gestures and pouty smiles all over the cobblestoned square in the shadow of the Cathedral's towering facade.<br />
<br />
----------------------<br />
<br />
We stop to buy mazapan goodies at the Santo Tome confiteria and the delicate almond paste sweets and cookies look almost too delicious to eat. At the cafeteria adjoining Santo Tome we successfully give hordes of tourists a miss and treat the kids to churros con chocolate (a big success with them! And with me!! I love the combination of those rather plain fried dough sticks dunked into thick creamy hot chocolate...not good for already-funny-shaped-waistlines though!!!)<br />
<br />
----------------------<br />
<br />
Earlier in the day as the sun burnt down on the cobbled stoned alleyways leading up to the stone fortification of Alcazar, we passed many little 'souvenir' shops of the sort that after a trip to Florence last summer I have decided to always firmly ignore. These shops are crammed with mass produced so called souvenirs that are nothing but cheap plastic or synthetic replicas of whatever famous things the particular place is noted for. So we have so-called handmade leather goods along the streets of Florence, plaster cast Davids outside the Uffizzi Gallery, swords and weaponry here in Toledo and cows and tulip ballpoint pens in Amsterdam. Instead I prefer buying food souvenirs and museum gifts that may not be as cheaply priced but are certainly more authentic.<br />
<br />
----------------------<br />
<br />
The taxi driver took us on an impromptu 'panoramic tour' of Toledo before dropping us back to the station. He was a jovial kindly man who despite language barriers (our below basic level of Spanish and his non-existent English) managed to give us a great ride around the city with photo stops overlooking the breathtaking views from the Puente de San Martin. Completed in the 14th century the bridge features five impressive arches. Looking out from the bridge at the quietly flowing Tagus below and the ancient city sprawl with its centuries' old castles and stone facades, one senses a powerful break from the narrow confines of time as we know it measured in tiny human years to something overwhelmingly eternal and cosmic. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-40632770818228621312015-08-08T08:28:00.000-07:002015-08-08T08:28:20.652-07:00August in Madrid --- I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Madrid in August is hot. But then everybody already knew that. It is also beautiful with its wide tree-lined avenues and mix of architecture from art deco with baroque ornaments to French style and eclectic. The classical monumental fountains along the Paseo del Prado are shady retreats as the mid-afternoon 33 degree sun beats down on backpack-carrying, map-waving weary tourists.<br />
<br />
==============<br />
<br />
El Prado is a magnificent museum and what I love most about it is how efficiently it's organized. Tickets are easily available online and the audio guides are detailed. There is a nicely put together audio guide for children -- this guide features some paintings only and the explanations are clear and interesting to younger listeners. Lunch at the Prado cafe was surprisingly reasonably priced and by museum cafe standards not totally inedible.<br />
<br />
<br />
We were lucky to visit El Prado at a time when Picasso returns to the museum through 10 selected works from the Kunstmuseum, Basel, that reflect in the form of an essential anthology some decisive moments of the artist's career. (Picasso was artistic director of the Prado during the Civil War years).<br />
My favorites among these ten are in no particular order: Hombre, mujer y nino, El Aficinado, la Pareja (the couple), Woman with hat seated in armchair (the woman of course is Dora Maar), Venus and Cupid and the Harlequin. Like always I find viewing a Picasso to be something of a many-layered and intensely vivid experience. The Man, woman and child painting for example is peculiarly almost without color, the woman's expression eerily faraway; the whole image absorbing enough to stay in mind's eye for a long while after we physically move on from it. And then, looking at Dora Maar's wildly distorted face in the blue hat painting, that image of Picasso as the cruel genius surfaces again.<br />
<br />
I was also so happy to be able to see Goya's works specially his so-called Black Paintings, and for me the Atropos or the Fates was just the most fascinating. Something about the desolate backdrop and the rendition of the three goddesses who control our Fates (Goya added a fourth) as haggish looking old men left a disturbing impression that somehow makes the Fates a more tangible and fearful presence.<br />
<br />
There are far too many great paintings to note down but two others that thrilled me for all sorts of different reasons are Jacopo Bassano's Vulcan's Forge and Francisco Pradilla's Dona Juana la loca.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
====================<br />
<br />
<br />
A great tip to keep a three and a half year old quiet while walking through cavernous museum halls is get an audio guide and let said kid listen to 'stories' on it. Works really well!<br />
<br />
==================<br />
<br />
The economic crisis has so many visible signs on the streets of Madrid. Shops with liquidation sale banners hung across them, shuttered shopfronts defaced with graffiti, lottery stalls on every street corner, groups of homeless people, and all sorts of alms-seekers. One of the most commonly seen of these alms-seekers is a man or woman sitting near a little hand-written cardboard sign propped against something. Translated many of these signs simply read "I have no job, I need money." One of the most poignant signs I saw, stated: 'I am not bad, or a junkie. I have lost my job'. The man sitting next to it was poorly but cleanly dressed, he did not look at passersby on the sidewalk and there was a quiet sad dignity about the neat way he kept his few personal things around him.<br />
<br />
===============</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-40969635847907563172015-07-29T07:40:00.001-07:002015-08-08T13:24:43.593-07:00Amsterdam, Summer of 2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The Little Orphanage in The Amsterdam Museum is such a wonderful re-telling and bringing to life of such a depressing fact of life in 17th century Europe: the plague infestation and crowded orphanages. The Orphanage recreates the rooms, clothes, food and even some of the tools and equipment used over 300 years ago. The story is told simply, through one of the orphan children (and it has a happy ending!) making it a very learning experience for young children. Of course my 3 and a half year old was more confused than educated by it all but my 8-year-old found everything fascinating from using the bellows in the kitchen to build the fire, to the gloomy doctor's room and the rough clothes worn by the children in those days.<br />
<br />
------------------------------<br />
<br />
Tourist season is at its peak in Amsterdam over the summer months. As we walked through Het Spui between the American Book Center and Waterstones, we dodged angry showers of rain and tour groups in equal measure. The mobile fish stalls did a brisk trade in herring and garlic slathered on buns and for the less adventurous there is always a hot dog or friets doused in mayonnaise or currysaus to fall back on. <br />
<br />
-----------------------<br />
<br />
Outside the Van Gogh Museum, a beautiful flower memorial has been hand built with flowers specially brought in from his birthplace to commemorate exactly 125 years of Van Gogh's birth today, July 29 2015. In the museum there is a lot going on to celebrate the artist's 125th birth anniversary.<br />
<br />
------------------------<br />
<br />
A misguided friend once described Amsterdam as 'boring.' Anything but, is how I describe this city I have grown to love. I could spend days simply people-and-sidewalk-watching in any part of Amsterdam (my personal favorite vantage spot would be anywhere between Kalverstraat and het Spui). There is such a mix of people, history and style along these streets. It's impossible not to walk past centuries' old buildings and feel a sense of days gone by in the smallest of things. And for me, the strongest vibe around every open air cafe or watering hole is an essential European zeitgeist, almost as physically present as the mildly intoxicating, immensely pleasing sweetish cloud of marijuana smoke that envelopes much of central Amsterdam. <br />
----</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-85240901245366276132015-07-15T13:33:00.000-07:002015-08-08T13:23:50.856-07:00A day at Het Spoorwegmuseum, Utrecht<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is something so nice about visiting Dutch museums with children -- probably among the best organized museums in the world -- which is what makes visiting them such a great experience even with toddlers and young kids.<br />
<br />
Today we visited the Railway Museum in Utrecht (Het Spoorwegmuseum). Greeted with no entrance queues thanks to our museum cards, the kids headed straight to the 'stallen monster ride' created using the Gommers slightly eerie familial relationship with the railways spanning three generations! Inside, the museum is all about 175 years of railways in the Netherlands laid out in a wonderful interactive mix from a journey through time back to the 1800s; to a spectacular ride through railways over 200 years, a recreated visit to the platform of the Orient Express and then the large central hall of the museum that houses 'the workplace' with its trains and open depots with vintage items from way back in time like ticket machines, old sewing machines, baby carriages and more. A themed restaurant is also located here. What's lovely is the way the train theme is carried on in the smallest details down to the tiles and faucets in the washrooms. And then like all the Dutch museums we have visited there is much to do for children in between all the train-related stuff, including a little playground space with slides and a small mini pool.<br />
<br />
I remember visiting the Het Prinsenhof in Delft with the kids, the museum is in the former convent where William of Orange successfully fought against the Spanish occupation in the 16th century. It is also where he was assassinated on the staircase by Balthasar Gerards. What is fascinating is how the bullet holes in the wall and the whole business of the assassination is presented in such an interesting way for young children including a hologram of the assasin, and a little basement where coloring sheet activities have been set up near a small rack of replica period costumes for the kids to try on!<br />
<br />
The larger more well-known museums like the Van Gogh, the Rijksmuseum and the Jewish museum have loads of activities and interactive elements for kids, but even the lesser known ones like the Cobra Modern art museum (in Amstelveen) has a nice little atelier open to the kids where they can create their own masterpieces year-round.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-56120873480744300192015-07-10T06:43:00.001-07:002015-07-10T06:54:39.098-07:00Endless summer daysAmsterdam in summer is beautiful. It is a short time of golden days, brilliant sunshine, blue skies, sparkling canals and s green freshness that is magical. Schools are out, kids are carefree and everybody celebrates the outdoors with a determination that comes from those long dark dreary months that come soon after these endless golden days.<div><br></div><div>De BosHalte is a charming little cafe close to the entrance of the Amsterdamse Bos. I love this little coffee place that embodies Amsterdam's complete love of kids in public spaces. Before we moved here I had heard about how wonderful a place The Nerherlands is for children. It is. Not just in its high tolerance of children in public places but also in its general attitude towards kids (even misbehaving three year olds!!)</div><div>Here at this charmng outdoor cafe, with its hammocks, cotton swings, wooden toys and very holistic feel, kids and dogs are the centerpiece. The owner, a lovely smiling lady has created an enchanted space with a few simple things. Put together with a great latte, golden sunshine and a gentle breeze, it feels like my little corner of heaven.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-45221674856216054642015-06-17T13:14:00.002-07:002015-06-17T13:14:38.532-07:00Back in Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I love Paris. It is such a grand and elegant city with its wide streets, French Gothic architecture, stately Haussmann building facades and the Seine running deep and quiet through it all.<br />
This time we are staying at a lovely high-ceilinged apartment on the rue du Four, in the St Germain des Pres neighborhood, a stone's throw away from the old Benedictine abbey. The area is crowded with lovely boutiques and stores, aside from all the fashion high names we discovered true gems like the St Germaine art and photography store with its old AFP prints -- we saw one of Reagan throwing a snowball and another one that captures a heart-stoppingly young Marlon Brando. Then there is the Laduree shop that looks like an edible work of art: mint striped pastel awning and delicate macarons arranged temptingly. Along the street are old vintage shops, one of my favourites has a charming arrangement of real vintage toileteries including lavender salts in a beautiful jar and and old style back scrubber.<br />
<br />
<br />
---------------------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
People-watching in Paris is much fun. We are enjoying late evening cappucinos, the kids are having their favorite hot chocolate at a busy cafe just minutes away from the Notre Dame. Tour groups pass us by, this one is Chinese and the tour guide holds a small folded pale blue umbrella high above his head as a signal for his group to follow. Old Chinese couples, single Chinese women and hassled family groups chat animatedly as they hurry behind the pale blue umbrella holding guide. The Indian group looks glum, the lady in the saree and red monkey cap more glum than the rest. Local <i style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 12.8000001907349px;">Parisiens</i> walk briskly by, people of all races walk by and we hear smatterings of various languages. The American family is arguing about the best way to get to the Left Bank. The African man wants to sell us yet another tacky made-in-china Eiffel tower, he begins his sales pitch with a polite 'namaste'.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------<br />
<br />
Vespers at the Notre Dame is an overwhelming experience.<br />
We reach the magnificent Cathedral about half an hour before Vespers. There was a long but fast moving and orderly queue to enter. As we step inside the cathedral, even packed with visitors, the interior has a hushed prayerful atmosphere made perfect by the magnificent choir singing the Vespers service. For me it was truly a memorable and powerful experience.<br />
<br />
When we finally emerge from the Cathedral we take another look at the fearful gargoyles and flying buttresses of its exterior before moving on past the crowds of tourists and head off in the direction St Germaine du Pres.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------<br />
<br />
Wandering around a crowded Place des Vosges on Saturday afternoon, we found the Hotel de Sully (its corner entrance is flanked by a delightful gallery and Issey Miyake) a private mansion built in the Louis XIII style. The sun was shining delightfully -- and the kids ran around the gardens. One of the nice thing about Paris is its sense of style even in small details. This quiet garden with its handful of tourists and locals embodies this style just as unconsciously as the two slim yet muscular men dressed in black pants and white t-shirts, unloading boxes in front of the Issey Miyake entrance. <br />
<br />
------------------------------<br />
------------------------------<br />
<br />
It has been over a month since we returned from this short holiday to Paris! So much has happened in this past very busy month...and finally as school breaks for the summer today and kids are finally asleep after an excitable, long afternoon celebrating the start of two months of summer with a picnic at Amstel Park, I have a long moment to catch my breath and reflect on things that got forgotten during the month! Like this blog post where I next wanted so badly to describe the little hidden treasure we 'found' at the Place des Vosges: the hotel Sully! The small garden set into the hotel's courtyard was almost magical in its simplicity. Just a small square of grass surrounded by stone walls and the delicious glow of late afternoon spring sunshine. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-3816280501705783212015-04-10T11:07:00.002-07:002015-04-10T11:07:42.485-07:00More on Belgium...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We decided to visit the historic site of the Battle of Waterloo on our way back from Brussels to Amsterdam. What I liked most was the Panorama. Here is a historical note on the Panorama from the Waterloo website:<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">Next to the Visitor Centre is the Panorama, a huge round building, which holds the </span><strong style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">canvas painted by Louis Dumoulin in 1912 to mark the first centenary of the battle</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">. The dimensions of this huge fresco are awesome and worthy of its dramatic subject matter - it is 110 metres round and 12 metres high.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">The concept behind the Panorama dates from the 19th century. It is a huge and elegant building designed to display massive paintings of up to 110 m by 14 m. Panoramic paintings generally represent famous battles, religious events or landscapes. The Panorama is a unique visual theatre, offering visitors an opportunity to escape into a different world.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;" /><strong style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">The Panorama of Waterloo illustrates a key moment in the raging battle.</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"> Louis Dumoulin depicted the Polish Lancers, the charge by Marshal Ney, Napoleon surrounded by his staff, and the resistance of the English infantry squares around Wellington.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">Its huge size, the portrayal of the soldiers, the weapons and the period costumes make the fresco come to life. </span><strong style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">Its display in the round leads to total immersion inside the image, making visitors feel like they are at the heart of the action</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">, caught up in an epic saga. The sense of perspective and three-dimensional reality are remarkable, and there is a real feeling of movement and emotion. A soundtrack of clashing swords, cavalry charges, cannon balls, bugles and the cries of the infantry plunge visitors into the heat of the battle.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">This Panorama was restored in 2008, and</span><strong style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"> is an important piece of historical heritage because it is one of the few that still exist today</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">. In the early 20th century, these kinds of historical reconstructions were almost ubiquitous, but they have since become less and less common. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">=======================</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">After a hard afternoon's worth of museum visits in Brussels we decided to relax with tall mugs of hot chocolate and decadently rich chocolate brownies at the Grand Place in Brussels. Sitting in this very busy and crowded square, overshadowed by its historic Town Hall building, we satiated our chocolate cravings. As we were leaving the cafe, a large shabbily dressed woman with a young boy by her side came asking for alms. As we moved on, the woman and boy picked up remains of our chocolate brownies and sucked the last bits of hot chocolate from the tall mugs; the cafe wait staff came out about then and shooed woman and boy away. The sight was strangely upsetting.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">=====================</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3a3a37; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">I am a recent convert to Uber and I love it. Super convenient and really useful during this trip to Brussels. We got nice clean cabs, with helpful drivers who could communicate well really easily. Cabs came within minutes of being booked and we got to museums and cafes with no trouble at all. And because Uber is charged directly to one's card, it really is easy as there is no digging around for small bills and change.</span><br />
----<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-45043543497781036342015-04-05T12:44:00.003-07:002015-04-10T10:48:20.003-07:00Spring break in Belgium<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes a short holiday with very little planning does turn out to be a lot of fun. We are almost done with our little Easter break in Belgium. We decided to spend a few days in Brussels, in a very nice small but well-appointed apartment in the Etterbeek area. Here are a few impressions:<br />
<br />
**French speaking Brussels has a raffish charm to it. The central part of the city overshadowed by the Art Deco Basilica of the Sacred Heart, is a busy cosmopolitan area. We saw scores of ethnic restaurants and eateries with Thai food seeming to be a particular favorite. Traffic moves fast and at times a little chaotically. We saw a small convoy of cars on saturday morning drive by noisily with much cheering and blaring of horns and people in the passenger seats sitting half out of the car windows. At a crossing on Sunday, cars waited patiently as lights turned green and two jugglers blocked the street while they did their stuff with bright orange traffic cones.<br />
<br />
**The local Carrefour is stocked with all manner of ethnic produce reflecting the mixed population of Brussels. Local groceries are well stocked with fresh produce, pulses, cheese, all types of seeded and whole grain breads, baklava and nuts. I walked past an old-fashioned shoe repair shop and more than one tailoring and alteration shop which had reels of thread, bobbins and other sewing supplies in its window display. Along with all the regular souvenirs, Brussels has its lace and tapestry shops, and some of the lace on display including pretty handkerchiefs and christening dresses are delicate and very pretty.<br />
<br />
**The Grand Place in Brussels is noisy and crowded this blustery rather cold Saturday before Easter. We have finally stopped for a well deserved chocolate break: hot chocolate with whipped cream and some dessert to make us all happy after a hard day of sightseeing. The usual chaos that is European Square standard greets us: crowds of tourists including the Japanese groups neat and organized following their well-manicured and groomed tour guide; the loud Americans, the well wrapped up Indians and the students on spring break; buskers on a large xylophone; wandering beggars hustling the tourists; and everybody with a camera phone.<br />
The crowd around Manneken Pis is dense; phones on 'selfie sticks' wave around as everyone wants a picture of the little bronze statuette of the two-year old boy peeing. An iconic image, manneken pis is the best recognized symbol of Brussels. <br />
<br />
**We visited the Church of Saint Bavo in the picturesque town of Ghent on Easter Sunday. After a few days of cold and overcast weather, this Sunday morning was sunny with clear blue skies and the brilliant weather held through the day. The Flemish tapestries in this cathedral, and the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb by Hubert and Jan Van Eyck, are considered to be among Belgium's most famous artistic masterpieces. Viewed up close these paintings are fantastic with unbelievable detail and and color.<br />
<br />
----<i>more to follow</i>---<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-69037115212402901952015-02-09T11:02:00.003-08:002015-02-09T11:02:21.834-08:00Of trails and spouses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The trailing spouse doesn't really trail behind...more likely, she/he marches ahead!<br />
<br />
For me this whole trailing spouse business is very like the half empty-half full glass thing (I never see a half empty glass!) Just as I have never in this decade+ of nomadic global living, ever seen myself as trailing behind anyone. The decision to move is made over several long, long discussions between my husband and myself. We cover much familiar ground: general feeling about new location, schools, career reasons, climate, languages, distance from our home country etc.. In these discussions we don't always see eye to eye but the bottom line is when the decision is made we are as satisfied as two people can possibly be about the unknown.<br />
<br />
We each have our roles to play in the relocation and having done this many times over now, we sort of move into an orchestrated performance of events. My decision to not pursue a full-time career was made happily and independently of our lifestyle. Back in India in my single days, I was a journalist and I loved it but when I left India after we got married I was happy to make my journalism more portable and eventually move out of it for long stretches of time. I had worked almost a decade in the profession and a break was very welcome. I enjoyed the break sufficiently to decide I didn't want to return to the profession full-time (and happily enough we didn't need a double income so that made my decision easier). Instead I worked with non government organizations in Tokyo and Taipei that focused on issues I supported, I gave English lessons, I did freelance writing and editing work and I enjoyed it all.<br />
<br />
Post-motherhood, I find my days full to the point of exhaustion and again I love every minute of this: being a full time mother, a small (tiny really!) entrepreneur, writer and homemaker all rolled into one! I feel none of this sense of 'purposeless-ness' that seems to afflict so many others in a similar situation. I also feel no drudgery, each day is as it is. When I worked at a newspaper office, it often felt like Groundhog Day -- a feeling of being caught in an endless loop of sameness -- Monday afternoon meetings, story ideas being assigned, chasing interviews, writing copy, editing copy, being exhausted, beyond late-late nights, unhealthy eating, copious alcohol. Even our special supplements followed routines and cycles. So why should a Monday-Friday school day/ weekday routine now seem especially drudge-y and boring? Actually the school runs on a bakfiets are positive fun, or given Dutch weather, often a challenge but never boring. And even though the kids do certain activities on certain days every week, what could be monotonous often gives me a sense of pride when I see what has been achieved with those regular ballet or music lessons or that early morning swim class.<br />
<br />
And then there is my teeny little business that gives me much happiness, the process of creating is utterly self-satisfying. And so here I am: not trailing, just living! </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-15422757902295704292015-02-08T06:54:00.001-08:002015-04-10T11:08:01.832-07:00And when change is a constant<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I like this new layout...i think the other one had gotten too boring. This need for change is so constant...last Friday when I visited the Friday weekly market at Stadshart, Amstelveen I couldn't help but remember how EXCITED i had been when I first visited the market a year ago. The stalls seemed fun and fascinating, I spent a long time at the stall selling sewing supplies. It seemed as if the stall sold every kind of button and lace imaginable! The lady selling used books was chatty and spoke good English. She showed me a handful of vintage English language books and then hoping to persuade to improve my non-existent Dutch, she showed me some beginner Dutch books!<br />
<br />
The cheese stalls were endlessly fascinating, those first few Fridays I would visit the cheese stalls and try out different varieties until I felt more confident and even decided on a favorite white cheese, with a mild saltiness, less tart than feta but delicious when melted or grilled or just eaten as it is.<br />
I would sit at the cafe looking on to the man who set up his stall selling all manner of DIY tools and gardening stuff. This man is a natural performer. He has a longish blonde forelock that keeps flopping on to his forehead and he sort of tosses his head back every so often to get that lock off his face. Very animated, he makes selling screwdrivers and flashlights a sort of performance art. I could spend an entire latte observing him...<br />
<br />
Everything about that Friday market held my attention for about six months, but now a year later the market has lost a bit of its charm for me. I know its routines too well, I know every stall and the regular peddling calls of the stall owner, even the smells of the stalls are over familiar now. I still have my favorite stalls at the market and I still spend the odd Friday morning latte observing my friend with the forelock, but those Fridays are getting to be fewer and farther between. Time to look for new weekly markets I suppose...</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-10547032042176507362015-01-14T11:46:00.000-08:002015-01-14T11:46:22.436-08:00Dutch Dragon Mama<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wherever we live I enjoy making small 'people studies'. How this works is, in a very random, mostly anecdotal way I look at groups of people in a particular city and then assign them specific characteristics that I think they have. Very personal, impulsive and I am sure largely incorrect I love my people studies!<br />
<br />
For example, Chinese women of a certain age and certain class in Hong Kong and Singapore always displayed certain characteristics: exquisitely well groomed (In Malaysia this is taken to the point of caricature. One Chinese woman would do a regular facial that 'lifted off impurities from her skin, making the outer layer of her skin so fine 'it burns if exposed to the slightest bit of sun" my informer let on); expensively dressed even to go to the local park n shop; fussy and obsessive about small things; rude and dismissive to all wait staff anywhere. And so on...<br />
<br />
<br />
Here in Amsterdam I am fascinated by Dutch women in their late middle age. There is a particular sort of woman I have in mind. She is usually Dutch caucasian, strong looking with powerful arms and legs (actually I don't know how powerful her arms and legs are...I am just assuming they will be powerful with all the years of biking they have done!), singularly unattractive with blonde or steel grey or jet black hair nearly always cut in some severe short style. She will wear make up in disturbingly bright shades and she will sneer or almost sneer easily. She is most often encountered in the 'kassa' of a Hema or Albert Heijn or Jumbo or even some of the post office outlets. There is one example of this woman at the Station Zuid entrance turnstile, close to the ticket counter (though this one wears no make up). I think of these women as Dutch Dragon Mamas. They are short with silly foreigners who speak no Dutch; they bark instructions/ insults at you as they bike by -- I have no idea what they say but it could be anything from a reprimand for biking in the wrong direction to not shepherding your kid correctly as she bikes alongside your bakfiets; they give you long confusing directions in rapid-fire Dutch at the said kassa -- one such Dragon Mama at the Groenhof Jumbo keeps sending me back to weigh individual broccolis or fruit and blame it on my performance anxiety, but at such times I can never seem to (a) find the weighing machine or (b) make it work and Dragon Mama is waiting for me back at the check out with raised eyebrow and a flood of angry Dutch!!<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888805.post-2421659309348525922015-01-09T14:12:00.001-08:002015-01-09T14:14:43.226-08:00Happy New Year (again!) and brief jottings <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And just like that we slipped into 2015.<br />
<br />
Here in Amsterdam it's cold but not unpleasantly so. Some mornings there is a fine frost just dusting the tips of leaves; blades of grass and bare tree stumps. The air is a nice clean cold. And for me the best thing of all is that I can ride my bakfiets -- drop the kids to school, do groceries, do anything at all on this wonderful Dutch bike!<br />
<br />
--------//////-----------------<br />
<br />
Before the winter break I visited the fabric flea market. Located in Jordaan, this market stretches about half a block and has dozens of stalls selling fabric of many types at prices ranging from cheap to fair. I wasn't that excited by most of the fabric on offer though as the quality was usually towards the lower end. The few better kinds of fabric I found were well above flea market prices. Also there wasn't a wide variety of fabric on offer, very limited linen, no minky or other novelty fabric and limited sewing accessories. Still it makes for an interesting half day activity.<br />
<br />
<br />
----////////----------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
Contrary to what I have heard so often, the average Dutch person is really friendly. There have been so many instances of people being nice and helpful at the supermarkets, on public transport and just about anywhere. People are particularly kind when children are around and while there is a certain brusqueness in many Dutch people the intent is usual kindly.<br />
<br />
--------------/////////-----------------------</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0