czech it out

Back from my week in the Czech Republic and already I'm up to my ears with work. But it was nice to get away, finally see Prague and Southern Moravia, and hang out with my good friends Ray and Renata again. It was strange adjusting to being surrounded by people speaking yet another new language. At every turn, I had to shut off my natural inclination to thank people in Dutch and wrack my brain trying to remember how to say it in Czech ("Dekuji" in case you were wondering). And staying with Renata's family was so great, because I got the full Czech experience. Ate plenty of good food, drank an abundance of good beer, had way too many shots of Slivovice, and added a few more words to my Czech vocabulary.

I'm looking forward to heading back in the spring for the wedding!

Ten things to do before I die..

(in no particular order)

1. Jump off a plane and go sky diving...solo.
2. Ride a camel across the Sahara Desert.
3. Scuba dive in the tropics.
4. Live in Europe.
5. Vacation in the Greek islands
6. Build a house...for myself or for someone else.
7. Visit at least one country in every continent.
8. Go Zorbing across an open field.
9. Take a cooking course in the Italian countryside.
10. Start my own business.
Numbers 1 to 4 have been done...still working on the others.

lost memories

My laptop's hard drive crashed the other day, and had to be replaced. Unfortunately, the data was unrecoverable. Two year's worth of data...gone. I'm crushed! My portfolio, various digital projects, client work, personal work...all gone. And I didn't have the sense to back-up my files. What kills me most are the two years' worth of photos that i've lost. Memories which I still cling to, but can never be regained in a photograph.

Makes me think of families that lose everything they own in house fires. Though nowhere near as drastic, I'm mourning my own loss. Photographs of friends, cherished moments, of laughter, of tears...

Losing my data, shredding a pair of expensive jeans in Belgium, and losing two pairs of designer sunglasses since I've moved to Europe are only teaching me not to cling to tightly to material possessions. Life is about the experiences gained from it, not about the prizes that you take home.

thoughts of home

I shot this photo at a get together last week, at Mags' place in Den Haag. This was the start of the evening...cold drinks, lots of goodies to snack on, great friends, and plenty of laughter.

I won't lie, there are days where I look around me and freak out a little bit when I realize I'm not in familiar surroundings, but I'm so thankful for the people that I've met here. A new community of friends that has made the transition so much easier than I would have imagined.

I sat in the shower late last night until I got all pruney thinking about my move, and how long I'll be here, and if it will ever feel like home. And I realized that it doesn't really matter. Home is where I choose to make it. And for now, at least, this is home.

hmmm...

Not sure what to make of this sculpture that sits at the entrance to Westbroek Park in The Hague. I looked for a plaque that might give some sort of clue, but couldn't fine anything. I knew the Dutch were very liberal and tolerant, but seriously!

keen on keane

I've been sick the past few days, so haven't felt much like blogging. I'm still hacking away, but feel obligated to at least post some photos. Here's one from Werchter. Mags and I were in the front row for Keane, and they played a rocking set. They also had a catwalk that went out into the audience, and played an acoustic bit there, which was fantastic.

synchronicity

I have my Google homepage set to tell me the daily weather forecasts for three of the places that I consider home. This morning, as I was checking my e-mail, I found this on the homepage. Perhaps it's just me, but I find it kind of strange that the weather on the west coast of Canada, the east coast of the US, and western Europe are pretty much the same this weekend. Like the stars have somehow aligned to ensure that the weather patterns are somehow synchronised.

rock on!

Off to Belgium with the boys in a few hours (the girls have meetings today and will join us tomorrow). Not sure if the weather will co-operate, but since we'll be camping for four nights, and rocking out four four days, my fingers are crossed for the best. Otherwise, it's going to smell like a wet dog in my tent.

Monday morning, after packing up, Matt and I are heading to Antwerp to review some proof prints at the offices of one of the agencies that we work with. We'll probably be wet and stinky, but we've warned everyone beforehand.

déjà vu

Went apartment hunting with my real estate agent yesterday. Of the four properties he showed me, two I had seen when I was here in February. One was the exact same apartment, only the tennant that was there at the time had moved out and it was now empty. The other was a different unit in the same building. Slim pickings. The two properties in the photograph above are potentials, but I want to see a few more possibilities before I sign a contract.

d-day

After work this evening, a few of us gathered at the pub to celebrate our friend's divorce. The papers were signed, and everything became official today. Some people wonder whether the end of a marriage is cause for celebration. At the end of the day, I think it really is a glass half-empty/glass half-full debate. You either celebrate the end of a partnership (11 years in total, seven of them as man and wife), or you celebrate new beginnings. In this case, we raised our glasses to new beginnings and being surrounded by good friends.

hell and gore

Still in the Midsummer spirit, especially after going through photos from last night's festivities. I was curious about the drinking songs that are sung when you do snaps, so I did a bit of internet research. One song in particular is called Helan Går which pretty much means, "Drink it up!" The verse warns, if you don't drink this one, you're not going to get the next one (halvan). The second verse warns that if you don't finish halvan, you're not going to get the third snaps (tersen).

Helan går!
Helan går, sjung "hoppfadirallanlallanlej"
helan går, sjung "hoppfadirallanlej."
Den som inte helan tar,
han heller inte halvan får,
helan gååååååååååår,
*klunk* *klunk* *klunk* (Drink here!)
sjung "hoppfadirallanlej".

It seems each snaps has a name referring to the order in which it's drunk: helan, halvan, tersen, quarten, quinten, sixten, septen, etc. (eventually there's a smuttan which makes me giggle a little.



The Swedes were nice enough to print out sheets with lyrics, as well as including the phonetic sounds of the lyrics so we could sing along. Once I reached "all handsome in the hell and tar" I couldn't stop laughing.

A phonetic "translation" for non-Swedes
Hell and gore
Chungkhapp fallerallan lallan-lay
Hell and gore
Chungkhapp fallerallan lallan-lay
Oh handsome in the hell and tar
And hell are in the half and four.
Hell and gore
Chungkhapp fallerallan lallan-lay.

After a night of drinking, I think it's somehow appropriate that the song reads phonetically in English, "hell and gore."

midsummer

Yesterday, I enjoyed my very first 'real' Swedish Midsummer celebration in Delftse Hout, along the water. After working for a Swedish company for over five years, it's funny that it's taken this long. Not that I haven't had diluted versions of Midsummer in the past, but prior to this, I had never danced around a Maypole, let along poke flowers into the cross, sloshed back so much aquavit, or had real Swedes (instead of Canadians in blond wigs) leading the drinking songs before exclaiming a boisterous, "Sköl!"


Despite the on-again, off-again rain showers, the Swedes decided to have the party outdoors, and thankfully, we were blessed with sunshine, even if there was some running around in the muddy grass during the course of the afternoon and evening. Everyone toting their picnic baskets, we enjoyed quite the spread of food (yes, there were Swedish meatballs in the buffet, along with reindeer wraps, gravadlax, shrimp salad, boiled potatoes with dill, breads, several types of cheeses, knäckebröd, fruit, strawberry cheesecake, brownies, and all sorts of other goodies). Lots of rosés, vodka and aquavit. Lots of flowers. Lots of fun.

Linking hands in a circle around the maypole, mumbling along in butchered Swedish while the Swedes sang louder to compensate for our inability to enunciate, much less comprehend what the hell we were singing along to, we probably looked to onlookers like a motley crew of cult members enacting some sort of pagan ritual. Kind of a surreal experience, but a great time!



I ended the evening by hopping on my bike and heading home, but as I turned around to wave farewell to some of the walkers who shouted goodbye, I lost my balance and fell into a bunch of stinging nettle. As some friends came over to give me a hand up, Peter laughed and shook his head, watching the rescue effort from his bike, "And I promised to make sure you didn't get completely sloshed during your first Midsummer...look how well that turned out!"

tents and train stations

Woke up bright and early yesterday, braved the torrential downpour, and took the train to Amsterdam to meet up with Mags to go shopping for a tent, sleeping bag, and mattress pad. After testing out a few different tents, we both opted for the seconds tent in bright lime green. The beauty of the tent is that you take it out of the disc-shaped carrying case (with shoulder straps for ease of portability) and essentially fling it open.

Before Mags left me at Den Haag Centraal station, we bumped into our friend Juanita, and of course, we had to show off our new tents...at the train station.




Four more days until Werchter!

matchmaker

So, one of the receptionists has apparently been scheming to hook me up with one of her friends. This morning, she sent an e-mail to Caroline, who sits directly across from me, and asked if she thought I'd be interested.

I looked at the e-mail on her screen, saw the attachment with a photo of three people happily smiling and asked, "am I supposed to date all three of them?"

Caroline fired off a reply:

He says he will have them all! Whilst walking away laughing and confused… Come by and explain.

deluxe

I spoke with my realtor today to make an appointment to view some properties next week. Prior to this, I had sent him an e-mail with an overview of the type of place I'm looking for.

Since he had already shown me some properties in February, I have a vague idea of what I want in a flat in terms of price range, amenities, location, etc. One of the things I listed was a full-sized kitchen, since I do like to cook and entertain.

As he was going down the list, clarifying the points I had listed, he stopped at this one and asked, "You want a deluxe kitchen?"

"A regular kitchen will be fine. But a full-sized one." I responded, uncertain of what he meant by a deluxe kitchen, and envisioning state of the art appliances with 16 burners and a walk-in freezer.

"So, a deluxe, then."

"Well, my kitchen right now is a closet converted into a kitchen, and the microwave is housed on a bookshelf under the television, so if by deluxe, you mean something bigger than a closet, then yes, I want a deluxe kitchen. But if by deluxe, you mean fancy and overpriced, then I can do with just a standard 10'x10' kitchen"

Laughing, he says, "Yes, this is Holland, If you actually want to cook in your kitchen, then you want what we call a deluxe kitchen."

hello & shit

I woke up this morning, flipped over, grabbed my laptop and checked my e-mail before hopping in the shower and heading for work. Waiting in my inbox was an e-mail from my friend Lizzo with the subject: "hello & shit". Lizzo is one of the most random, crazy-fun people I've met, and can literally talk without taking breaths in between sentences. The conversations I've had with her are very steam-of-consciousness sort of ramblings, and I'm pleased that her e-mails are as well.

In her e-mail, which seriously took me ten minutes to read (it was that long!), she writes about moving from Boston and living in Southern California:

back to me
i am loving summer and have the crazy white person with pink skin burn look to prove it
last weekend i laid in a raft in the pool at my apartment all day saturday
and sunday ryan and i went to this beach down the street
it is where they filmed the best movie ever, beaches
which makes me break out into "the wind beneath my wing" whenever i go
so i packed a picnic and we swam and layed around and shit
and there were dolphins
and i had a little moment where i thought," i can't believe i live here, this is where people come to vacation, i don't have to wait for a beach day or ever make plans, every day is a beach day" and i was happy

Which is kind of how I feel about living in Europe...

it's like learning to ride a bike again

....and that's exactly what I've been doing. It's been years since I've cycled around, and now that I've sold my car, I need to think about buying a bike. I've been holding back from making an immediate purchase since I don't really know what I want or need. A folding bike that I found on craigslist was briefly in consideration, but then when I decided that the likelihood of me folding up my bike to take it on the train is pretty much zilch, I began to think about a basic omafiets (literally translated: granny bike).

My plan is to get comfortable with being on a bike again, and then figure out how much I want to spend. Especially since bicycle theft is very common here in The Netherlands, there really is no point in buying a new one. Except for the fact that I like nice things. (Cue the whiny voice...) So, my co-worker offered me the use of her bike, which has been sitting in the shed at work for a few months while I contemplate my decision. All I would have to do is pump up the flat. So, after work today, I did just that. Borrowed a bike pump, went to pump up the deflated tires, and wouldn't you know it, there are leaks everywhere. So, Plan A didn't work out so well.

On to Plan B. At work, there are a few bicycles that are available to borrow. Usually they are all lent out and there aren't any left. Luckily, I've sort of made friends with one of the receptionists, and she found one for me. Unfortunately, it's built for Dutch people who are extremely tall, so I had a difficult time manoeuvering it. The minute I hopped on (and I literally had to jump to get on the damn seat!) I almost fell on my face.

I'm such a klutz.

"the phone present have groans"

So, I'm trying to redeem some free PrePaid minutes for my mobile phone, and to do so, I have to fill out a survey. Everything is in Dutch, so I resort to online translation to figure out out to fill this damn thing in. Here's the translation result for one of the questions:

I have elected until prepaid, because:
* I the cost within the handshake wish keep
* I little bubble
* I within young one have been until one subscription
* the facile upon within supply is
* I the phone present have groans
* the reverse

I really need to learn to speak Dutch...

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I checked the "I little bubble" box.

honesty is the best policy

I was catching up on my Boston blogs this evening and read about Evan's budget hotel adventures in New York. Coincidentally, one of my colleagues had just showed me a fantastic series of advertising campaigns for a hotel chain in Amsterdam called Hans Brinker Budget Hotel.

Go to the History section and "take a walk down memory lane (watch out for the dog shit) and enjoy the advertising that helped make the Hnas Brinker a home from home for thousands of visitors to Amsterdam." This is perhaps the most truthful (and hilariously funny) advertising I've seen in a long time.

Perhaps this is where I should threaten to send unruly house guests when they come to visit me in The Netherlands...

"the community"

Week 2. Adjusting slowly...still not feeling at home yet, but I figure if I never shake the feeling of being a tourist, that can't be such a bad thing, can it?  The nice thing about living here in Delft is that there is sort of a built-in community of ex-pats from work here.  

This weekend, i went shopping in The Hague with one of the guys in IT, who needed to get some of those wheely shoes for his kids back in Sweden.  I ended up picking up a crappy prepaid phone since i can't sign up for a mobile contract without a residence permit.  I was all excited until I got back to the apartment, opened up the box and realized that all the instructions were in Dutch.  Oy!  

Later that evening, I was walking over to meet up with one of my colleagues, a fellow editor, when I ran into a girl from HR who was unloading some tables for some friends, another IT guy and his girlfriend (who used to work for the company as an architect, but has since left the fold) that they had picked up in Dusseldorf earlier that morning.  Helped them move tables up to their apartment, then went to go grab some food so we could all have dinner before going to the main market square around the corner to see a midnight show of the theatre festival (De Mooi Weer Spelen).  

At the festival, we ran into another girl who works in my department doing distribution, but lives in The Hague), as well as a graphic designer from iceland that I had met back in Tokyo last year, along with some other work folks.  So, just from one day in Delft, you can get an idea of how interconnected the ex-pat community is here.  The nice thing about it is that the organization is so big that you can hang out with all sorts of different people (I hung out with a completely different set of folks last weekend, including a girl from aruba who doesn't work for the company, but has sort of been 'adopted' into the clan).  And even though we all work in the same organization, we don't all work directly together, which makes avoiding 'shop talk' much easier...sometimes.  

The show itself was spectacular!  Kind of a Cirque du Soleil type show, with lots of fire, pyrotechnics, live music, and brilliant costumes.  The basic premise was a race where different countries test out their own flying machines, but fail.  Finally, the female racer is the only one to succeed, despite being denied a chance to test her flightcraft.






Today, I stayed away from work folks altogether (which is difficult, but still possible...I think) and checked out more of the festival with a new friend from The Hague, before grabbing some Turkish pizzas and lounging around one of the squares chatting.

small space living

Luckily, I got the keys to my temporary apartment this evening, so I'm no longer putting on shows for the tourists. I did have to lug all four pieces of luggage from the hotel to the apartment, tripping over cobblestones as I dragged everything over, but now that I'm here, I've been able to unpack and attempt to settle in a bit. The suite is compact, but comfortable.








When the landlady showed me the suite, I thought the place was pleasant and well-kept, but I wondered aloud where the bedroom was. "Oh, the sofa converts into a bed. Let me show you!" she said with great enthusisasm.

"And the kitchen?"
"Behind the folding doors that looks like it leads into a closet, right here!"

"The bathroom?"
"Beyond the pocket door, of course!"

"And if the kitchen is in what I thought what was the closet, where's the actual closet?"
"Tucked behind the door!"

Talk about small space living!

The church bells ring every hour from the steeple of NieuwKerk, just a few steps away and I've got a view of a waterlily strewn canal from my window, where red geraniums are spilling out from the window box, so it's making me feel like I'm in a postcard world.

As for work, the team here is great. I haven't gotten to spend a lot of time with them all yet since I've been at appointments with local authorities trying to sort out my paperwork, but they're a great bunch. And, get this – my first official day isn't until tomorrow, but I was in the office today, and I've already requested vacation. Before I've even started! I'm going to Rock Werchter, a four day music festival in Belgium . The line-up is pretty awesome, so I couldn't resist. I'll be spending some $300 USD for tickets and the campsite, and it'll probably be one big boozefest, but it should be fun.

first impressions

After weeks of farewell parties and send-offs, my friends finally got sick of me and put me on a flight to the Netherlands. I think even now, as I walk the cobblestone streets, watch the mallards and swans swimming in the canals, brushing past the water lilies which are just starting to bloom, and listen to strains of Dutch being spoken wherever I go, it still hasn't sunk in that this is my new home. Part of me thinks I'm just on a business trip and that I"ll be back in my comfort zone soon. And then I remember that all my stuff is packed away in a shipping container headed to New Jersey before crossing the ocean, and that my apartment in Boston is empty and ready to be moved into by the next tenant.

I don't think it was until I tried to use the pay phone at the Schiphol Airport this morning to track down my taxi, or went to the train station in the afternoon to take some Dutch passport photos in a photo booth which had all instructions listed in Dutch that I realized what's in store for me in terms of settling in, acclimatizing and making this place my new home. At least I could make out some of the menu selections at the restaurant that I went to earlier this evening.

I checked into the hotel this morning. It's a small little inn, really, located in the heart of the city. With my two large suitcases, a backpack and my laptop case in tow, I climbed up a few flights of steep, narrow stairs, sweating it out, and finally
setting the bags down and taking the suitcases up the remaining staircases one at a time. Once I got into my hotel room, I marveled at the large dormer windows in both the bedroom and the bathroom and was in awe of the fantastic view of both the Old Church and the New Church situated in the main square, just several rows of houses away.

As it had been a long morning, I really needed to make my way to the bathroom to relieve myself. Now, being jet lagged and completely worn out from carrying my bags up the staircases, I wasn't really paying much attention to anything aside from the business at hand. I did pause in embarrassment however, when I noticed that several flashbulbs were going off at the top of the old church from the tower. I realized then that I had neglected to lower the blinds in the bathroom and was essentially putting on a show for the tourists from my bathroom window. With a shrug and a sheepish smile, I waved at them
and said, "Welcome to Delft!" and then quickly washed up and ducked out of view.

....and I've only been here for a few hours.

pb&j

Saw Peter Björn & John at the Paradise Rock Club in Allston last night. They played a high energy set including "Amsterdam" which Linda, in true dork fashion, dedicated to me. And Peter answered the question that's been plaguing me since I discovered their music – they hate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. "The worst, most unhealthy American Invention."

Gotta love a trio of Swedish geeks who can rock out like nobody's watching!

springtime in vancouver

It's been about a week since I returned from Vancouver, and spring is just starting to hit Boston. It feels like I've gone back in time, but since spring is my favorite season, it's great to experience it twice! Here are some photos from my trip home:

A felled tree at the entrance to Stanley Park. Notice Swiss scupltor Heinz Aesclimann's steel work, "Composer" behind it, in the distance.

Grape Hyacinths sprinkled with spring rain.

Burnaby Mountain, near Simon Fraser University.





View from the Seawall. Stanley Park to the left, and the Vancouver city skyline to the right.

Cherry blossoms in full bloom atop Burnaby mountain.

wet, wet, wet

Got back home from work today to find the kitchen covered in water – on the shelves, on the counter, all over the floor. Rushing upstairs to find out what had happened, I found out that the person living in the unit above had his toilet overflow and caused a big flood on the second floor as well. There was a cleaning crew here to clean the mess on the second floor, so I asked them to bring their wet-vac down and clean up downstairs as well. They're still mopping up, but I've asked them to leave a fan for me so that I can make sure the floorboards dry out and hopefully don't get mouldy or mildewy from being soaked.

From what I've been able to determine, plumbers were here earlier to fix the pipes, but there's still a few drips, and the water leakage has also extended to the windows in the living area. My credenza is all wet, but luckily, the water hasn't touched any of the electronic equipment sitting on top (at least not that I've noticed so far).

I've had to throw away a lot of food that was on my shelves and on the counter (having an overflowing toilet spill over your kitchen doesn't exactly make you want to consume any food that's been soaked by it), and am still in the process of cleaning up. Luckily, one of my neighbours across the hall had a key and was able to let the cleaners into my unit before I arrived
home from work, otherwise, i'm sure there would have been a significant amount more damage to the unit and my stuff.

hoppiness...

When we were younger, my sister and I used to repeat a rhyme around this time of year...

Happy Easter, Happy Spring,
Happy, Happy Everything!

There's really no point to me posting this, except for the fact that it always seems to resonate in my head around Easter. I attended Easter morning services at St. James's Church in Cambridge this morning. The last time I was there was probably Christmas of 2005. It's been a long time. The sun was shining through the stained glass through most of the service, casting a multicolored glow over the entire congregation as the choir sang traditional African hymns with drums pounding at the front of the chapel, making for a festive celebration. The final peals of Handel's Hallelujah Chorus reminded me of Easter celebrations at home. However, I didn't spend too much time feeling homesick, since I was graciously 'adopted' by the Beers family again, as I have been for most of the major holidays since I moved to Boston.

Jo and I brought some desserts and appies for Easter dinner at her parent's place in Wakefield, but had to put them in the fridge at the church so that they wouldn't get spoiled in the car while we sat through the service. In order to avoid mixing our things up with the rest of the contents of the fridge (the majority of which were intended to be served during the after-service coffee hour) we marked the bags "BEERS - DO NOT SERVE," much to the delight of people who opened the refrigerator door to prepare the coffee hour snacks.

Tulips at Bloemenmarkt (the flower market) in Amsterdam, photographed in February 2007.

sunday river on a snowy saturday

Woke up at the ungodly hour of 3am to get ready for a day trip to Bethel, ME. Earlier this week, Raf had sent out and e-mail to see if anybody wanted to join him for the last ski trip of the season. Tempting us with photos from that day's snowfall, Jo and I immediately hopped on board. The agreement was that Raf would drive there and back, and Jo and I would sleep in the car the entire way there, and most likely, the entire drive back.


Conditions were wonderful, and we got a good six hours of skiing in before our tired, aching bodies begged us to stop. And when we finally got back into the car, sleep was all we could think of.

it's my party and i'll bitch if i want to!

Sucking on a Scorpion Bowl

Went out for Renata's birthday dinner at Pho Republique in the South End. It was a gorgeous day, so we rushed home after work and walked there from R&R's apartment. The food was delicious, the drinks were tasty, but the manager was rude and unaccommodating, asking us to leave after two hours since "our time was up, and other patron's need to be seated." Funny thing is, we had been ordering food and drinks all night, and when she arrived to vacate us from our table, the server had just set out a giant Scorpion Bowl on our table. Aftedr much pleading, the manager said in a whiny voice that she didn't mean to upset us, but Renata cut her off, informed her that it was her birthday, and that she intended to enjoy it, then waved her away. The things that this beautiful blonde Czech girl can get away with will never cease to amaze me!

king of the castle

A representative from the moving company came to the apartment today to assess my belongings and determine how many boxes the movers would need to bring when they come to pack my things. "I'm basically a professional counter," he said as he proceeded to count my chairs, shoes, and books. Afterwards, I went to get my car serviced at the dealership. By the time they finished, it was too late to head to work, so I drove over to Castle Island instead. Sullivan's, the burger shack at the edge of the recreation site was open for teh season, so I ordered a cheeseburger and onion rings served in a brown paper box, and looked out onto Boston Harbor, contemplating the move ahead of me. Found some beautiful violet blue mussel shells littered along the shore and had to snap a few shots. Here's one:

flowers, for me?

Lazed around for most of the morning, but decided to pick myself up off the sofa and walked to Downtown Crossing to do some shopping and enjoy the warm weather. Strolled by Lambert's Market on the way home and picked up two bunches of asparagus, two boxes of strawberries, and some blueberries. I needed a little pick-me-up, so I bought a boquet of tropical flowers – bright orange birds of paradise, cranberry-colored bromeliad, and bushy palm fronds.


As I walked through the Westin, on the way back to my apartment, I passed the doorman, who gave me a thumbs up and said "Well done, man!" I was puzzled at first, but chuckled when I realized that he was referring to the boquet I was clutching under my arm. Little did he know, the flowers were just a selfish indulgence.

For dinner, I made a mushroom and wild rice risotto with spears of steamed asparagus, from the market, on the side. Thought briefly about pairing it with a glass of wine, but laying my eyes on the tropical boquet gracing my living room and settled on a cold bottle of Corona instead, dreaming of lying on a beach somewhere warm and sunny with the waves creeping up to my toes.

go slow...

Left the office early, after a full day of meetings, intending to meet Sylvi, Fredrik and Trine for dinner at Django, a great slow-cooking BYOB just off of South Street. As soon as I got on Kelly Drive, I realized that I had left my cell phone back at the hotel and didn't know exactly where the restaurant was located. "No problem," I thought, "I'm going to meet up with Sylvi & Fredrik at their house anyway, then drive down together." So, satisfied by this, I parked along the Drive, and watched the rowers glide down the Schukykill River as the sun set on the snowy banks.



I then drove to their place, but saw the morning paper still on their stoop and figured that they hadn't arrived yet, so I walked down teh street to grab a chai latte from the little coffee shop down the street. When I walked back to their place and saw the newspaper still there, I realized that they were probably running late and had most likely gone straight to the restaurant instead. So, I hopped into the car, tried to navigate into Center City, trying to find a restaurant that I didn't know the address to.



I'll skip over the rest of the story, but an hour later, I finally arrived at the restaurant, happy to see my friends and even more thrilled to enjoy a scrumptious slow-cooked meal on a cold wintery day.

going dutch

At the end of a rigorous two-week review process at work, I hopped on a plane and headed to Amsterdam. After a year-and-a-half of waiting, I'm finally here to see see if I still want to accept the job that has been kept open for me. Should be an interesting week!

chasing sunsets across the desert