I just finished reading aloud to Michael the Christmas entry from last year. I could snap another picture of the tree but as it is the same god-forsaken (beloved) fake Christmas tree, it would be the exact same photo, except that that tree is in front of the door to our balcony rather than in the corner. And, it would have a few more ornaments on it which we bought at the Christmas markets in Dusseldorf and Cologne.
There were new retail ropes to learn and we learned them--it largely comes down to timing. This year we bought an ornament with stars and stripes on it, a glass polar bear, a snowflake (the code name for my big project at work I launched this year), and a few other things that will remind us of 2008.
We still spend a good deal of time hunting and gathering culinary items. I came to discover that powdered sugar here is pure sugar with no binding agent. So now I need to find a place that sells, or a patisserie that will sell to me, "decorating sugar" which must have corn starch in it, or something similar. I was also able to find corn starch after a year of looking.
Last weekend I took Michael on his first trip to Duikelman's which is a kitchen supply store in de Pijp which is so fabulous it puts Sur La Table to shame. Considering it is in Amsterdam, where there is no abundance of anything in one particular store, it is extra fabulous and sometimes I like to go there because looking at four enormous shelves of nothing but silicone cake and cookie pans of a dozen different varieties, or five different sized of meat mallots makes me happy.
The theme for this post is "Miks is not leaving." For the last three years as we have been living separately, every reunion and visit was dampened with the impending departures. So there is a lightness to this year. There are no more goodbyes that open the door to lengthy separations. Michael does not have to get on a plane in two weeks to go back to school. It's kind of the same quiet joy I feel whenever I remind myself that Barack Obama actually is the new president of the United States. Michael actually is here. Our life as a couple living in Europe has officially begun. It's not a wish or a hope or an anticipation. It is here now and I take time every day to let it make me feel happy.
When he was living in Amsterdam, my friend David Browne was once late meeting his wife, Sarah, and me for dinner because he got caught up in what he described as "bicycle bliss." He was so zoned out just enjoying getting himself to our meeting place that he rode right by the restaurant and several blocks further before he realized what he had done.
Bicycle bliss is unique to the Netherlands and perhaps especially so in Amsterdam. I am never stuck in traffic. I get on a train that leaves from my office location every 10 minutes or less, I take a 10 minute ride to a station on the south side of town, and from there I get on my clunky ol' Dutch bike and I am free. Last night, I took a route home through the east side of the park I live next to. The east side is the fancy side. I glided through the exquisite, imposing, ornate neighborhoods, twinkling with Christmas lights, and busy, but in a relaxed way, with people picking up last minute things in the boutiques, bakeries, butchers, and flower shops. Everyone in the city leaves their curtains drawn open. It's a dutch thing. I took a good long look in all the windows of these luxurious homes with their gingerbread ceilings, huge bouquets of flowers, walls lined floor to ceiling with books, this history, weight, quiet, unassuming pride and success of this tiny country glowing from the inside out in the warmest way. Amsterdam is always at its best at night.
I cut through the park and biked my way to the other side (the low rent side where I live ;-) ) and waved to a scraggly klezmer band, piping out (ironically) Jingle Bells and Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer, on accordian and clarinet. I dodged a few dogs taking their evening off-leash walk, and sailed home so slowly and perfectly that I only needed to barely touch my toe to the sidewalk to come to a stop. I wonder why anyone would want to sit in a car, alone, on a highway, burning up the atmosphere, when they could be free on their clunky old Dutch bike headed home always and without exception, of their own free will.
I spend a lot of time decompressing and thinking about things when I am on my bike. Last night on my way home, I thought about the fact that I have now lived in Amsterdam for two years. In those two years, there are things about my former life in the U.S. that no longer make sense. And, there are things about life in Holland that also make no sense, frustrate me, or at times make me angry. So I think about the possibility of combining the two. How could I take the worst of both and turn it around to make it the best? Why not try to change things? I think indeed I will try, but more about that later.
In the last 24 month, I have been to Paris three times. I've been to Brussels, Antwerp, Cologne, Dusseldorf, Lisbon, Istanbul, Marakkesh, Tuscany and Rome. And while I haven't done a lot of serious capital T "Traveling" the thing I love about these visits is that it was all just in the course of work or a quick vacation. I have visited many wonderful towns throughout the Netherlands. I've been reunited through Facebook with many friends that I have not talked to in almost 20 years. In starting this new life, I have also been placed back in touch with some of the deepest and best memories of my past. The one thing about my life that hasn't gotten better since living here is my ability to speak Dutch. I still suck.
I also looked at the pictures I took of our house on the Overtoom from last year. We had not yet found and purchased the new couch that is in the living room. And had not yet painted the living room walls the dark moss green that they are now. I had not yet made my visit to Istanbul, where I found a lovely prayer rug and spent time with my old friend Tasha for the first time in 18 years .The painting I purchased from Arend Holm was still sitting in his studio, not mounted on the wall. I remember thinking how much of a break I needed from living in a construction zone. I took that break and now we need to start thinking about finishing the job. The bedroom needs to be painted, lighting needs to be installed in the ceiling, closets need to be built, draperies purchased and mounted, and the dreaded attic needs to be made ito something liveable.
I also wonder if Charlotte will be with me, sitting beside me as she is right now, as she is constantly these days, when I write my Christmas entry in 2009. I'll be 40 this time next year. I look forward to the things I know are coming in 2009, but the gift I appreciate the most this year is the moment, and living right in it.
