My Dutch Fairytale!

Happy Oscars America! ENJOY DAMMIT!

2011-02-27T10:04:00.001+01:00

I am having one of the expat freak out, where am I, how can this be, I do not accept this, what the hell is going on moments...... I knew the Oscars were coming up and I KNOW they are not as big here but I thought certainly and one of the 4000 channels Ziggo (Dutch Cable Provider) provides (like the Arabic, or Krzykigstan or Maldovian networks) they might show it

and I KNOW it is on at 2 in the morning but I was considering that I might be willing to stay up and watch....

so I got up this morning and saw on CNN the count down to the Oscars clock ticking away and I GOT ALL CAUGHT UP in the Oscar fever which for Ken... the ExPat in Holland.... means spending the first two hours of the morning flipping through the weird, slow ass digital guide on the tv which I am certain is always thirty minutes off then I have to keep subtracting 12 from 23 and 12 from 19 and 12 from 21:30 (to figure out the time) because the Oscars start at 5 in LA, which in New York is 8 but then there is the countdown to the red carpet, and the pre red carpet and then for some reason I seem to be having to add the 9 to the time to account for the time difference, I get so confused that I spill my coffee when I dropped the remote. SO then I start getting on the computer in a dismal attempt to google where (or how) in Holland one can watch the Oscar and I spending the next 20 minutes reading all about Holland Michigan and the wonders of life THERE! Who knew Holland Michigan was so active on the internet!!!!!!!!!!! Then I notice the Oscars are on one of the pay channels here .... CLEALRY I NEED TO SUBSCRIBE TO THIS CHANNEL! But after rummaging through the Ziggo Cable Paperwork folder in an attempt to see if they provide a 24 hour English speaking telephone number which is open in Sunday (Yes I was desperate and becoming delusional)

I was screwed.

So now there is paper work everywhere, coffee thrown about, some weird Indian Bollywood Movie is on and I am not sure what has happened!

I am looking throw old pictures of past Oscar parties I have been to or thrown in America and I am just so ANGRY I AM VERY TEMPTED TO SCREAM (and wake up Jur) (who has been sleeping through all of this and has no idea what he is about to wake up to).....

Anyhow I may not be watching the Oscars and have been telling myself it is not that big of a deal.... but deep down CLEARLY IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hope you are all having a good Sunday and happy Oscars to all of America and the 41 million plus viewers that CNN claims will be watching..... :(

Discombobulated by a Kruidnoten

2010-09-19T14:11:00.005+02:00

There are those days. Those tough, confusing, I am walking around and have no idea what the hell I am doing here in Holland days. They are worth writing about but I guess I have been sort of in a daze that I just did not seem to sit down and write. I should say there have also been good Dutch days too. Many of them! I should write about those as well but they are not as fun to tell! My Dutch "job" (ughh more on that later but keep in mind there is only so much work I can get with an American resume and not being able to speak the language!) has also kept me from writing. Plus we are just catching up from our steady stream "let's visit Ken in Holland this summer" visitors from America. (which was exhausting but I was so grateful to see them all).

But yesterday I had a day that was so jarring..... it kicked my butt into the seat to start writing.

Now this all may sound a bit crazy (it does in my mind) but here it goes.

Did I mention to you I have started a cupcake business with Jur here in Holland? Oh yeah! It is true. Besides my money making Dutch degrading job I am pushing cupcakes here in Holland. I never thought I would be a cupcake maker. I LOVE cupcakes but NEVER did I think I would be in Europe perfecting cupcakes and pushing American Baking Goodies on to Europeans. But I am! In fact it has become sort of a therapeutic treatment for me. When I feel lost, lonely, "jonesing" for America or angry at being an immigrant, I bake goodies from America!

This morning it is blueberry coffee crumb cake. I needed to bake this morning after yesterday.

Yesterday I got up and had to go to the store to buy some ingredients for an order of 18 cupcakes that needed to go out. Twelve red velvet (my most popular) and 6 of a new recipe I convinced our customer to try.

Okay side story here. I wanted to introduce the Dutch to Peanut Butter and Jelly Cupcakes. It is a vanilla cupcake with grape jelly in the middle and covered with a peanut butter cream cheese frosting. Very American and unique. I find peanut butter and jelly sandwiches very comforting! I always have. I always will! However there are few problems with this recipe in Holland. Those of you who have read about my early experiences here in Holland may recall a whole chapter I wrote on my search for grape jelly. THERE IS NONE! JUST NONE. NOPE! NOWHERE! NOTHING! NADA! However one of the benefits of having the steady stream of American visitors this summer was that I insisted each of them to bring me a bottle of Welch's grape Jelly! I am not about to waste my grape jelly on cupcakes for people who do not actually like grape jelly. That Jelly is mine! So I replaced the grape jelly with strawberry jam and the cupcake is now called a Peanut Butter and Strawberry Jam Cupcake.

The other issue with this new cupcake is explaining Peanut Butter and Jam (Jelly) combination to the Dutch! It seems so strange to them. Despite the fact that they eat Peanut Butter and Chocolate Sprinkles. Despite the fact that they eat all kinds of jams. The putting of the two of them together puzzles them. I also discovered that most of the Dutch have not experienced and are not fond of the combination of Chocolate and Peanut Butter. Like a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, which I find stunning, unimaginable and almost makes me want to faint. That is like saying you do not like oxygen or, okay, not so dramatically that is like saying you do not like bread! This discovery also poses another problem for me with my next cupcake creation.... my chocolate cupcake filled with peanut butter cream and chocolate frosting with crushed chocolate covered peanuts on top.... IT IS DIVINE! I believe in it!

Oh the frustration of cooking American food in Holland! I could write a whole chapter on me explaining and defending the simple gloriousness of a Rice krispie treat. Who knew I would be forced into spending so much time explaining what a freakin' rice krispie is. How it is not Asian. No it is not an individual kernel of rice that I fried up. It is a cereal! A CEREAL THAT MILLIONS OF MY PEOPLE EAT!

Okay see, I sound crazy....

So anyway we have started a cupcake company here in Holland. We had an order. I had to go to the store for ingredients. So I hop on my bike. Yes, folks, since you have heard from me last I am now a savvy Dutch Bike rider. I can even ride through the city with a bag of groceries. (Well kind of.) So I head to the store. It is crowded as usual. I am on the hunt for Mon Chou. The Dutch version (from France it sounds like) of Philadelphia Cream cheese. Mon Chou, after many, many, many attempts at cream cheese frosting (a must for my red velvet and carrot cake cupcakes) I have found is the best product to use. Actually to give credit where credit is due Jur recommended it after he heard me say over and over that Dutch Roomkaas (something I thought looked like American cream cheese was not working) Mon Chou works, and it tastes delicious I must say. Our cream cheese frosting is just like home.

As I make my way through the Dutch crowded grocery store to the Mon Chou section, I come to a complete stand still. I see something that hits me like a brick wall. KRUIDNOTEN. A giant display of kruidnoten (pronounced crude-note-n). Little ginger cookies that were thrown at me last year by the little black faced elves of St. Nicolas. OH MY GOD! Is it Kruidnoten time again? I remember Kruidnoten were everywhere. At every party, every office. I was given bags of them as gifts. They looked like cookie crisp cereal and tried to eat them with milk in a bowl which doesn't work. They just turn to mush. Lord I had so many Kruidnoten I tried throwing them out for the pigeons but they wanted nothing to do with them. I, too, like the pigeons am not fond of kruidnoten.

Anyway there we were. The Kruidnoten and me. Not even Dutch grocery shoppers bumping into me could break my gaze. I had a flood of emotions and thoughts that overcame me as the Kruidnoten and I stared at each other. My God how long have I been here? Is it Christmas time already? I have been here so long I can recognize seasonal Dutch food. My God I have been here a long time! How long have I lived here? Who am I? Where am I? What is the name of the store? How did I become a cupcake maker in Holland? Where did I park my bike? What is the date? Do I have enough Mon Chou?

Slowly I gathered up all my confusion and my basket and moved onto to the next aisle. But still keeping my eye on the kruidnoten. Then in the next aisle, still in shock, I began searching desperately for any Dutch candy like combination of peanuts and chocolate for my next future creation. That is when I heard a Mother and son talking. They were either British or Australian. The son was expressing his frustration over not recognizing any of the cookies and candy. The Mother responded, sort of out of frustration but also out of sympathy for her son " Darling, I do not know what to say, I am sorry I do not know either. It is all foreign to me, I just don't know." I just looked at them from a few feet away. Pfft....newbies. Poor things. They know nothing!

I decided to ask "Where are you from?"

They seemed a bit shocked that I spoke to them but The Mother replied "England"

"Oh nice. How long have you been here?"

"We moved here one month ago" she said

"It is different, huh? So what are you looking for?"

"Oh my son wants an English Biscuit like we have back home but I just do not see it"

Now I wanted to go off here. Hah! Never, yeah well good luck with that one, There ain't no way! Ain't gonna happen lady, sorry kid. Happy hunting!

But instead I made a few suggestions of close alternatives. The little boy did not seem completely satisfied but I felt like I tried my best. I could not believe I was in a Dutch grocery store helping foreigners find food. How long have I been here? Who am I? Where am I?

I began to walk away and then I stopped. I turned back to the British Mother and son and said "Oh and by the way, have you ever heard of a kruidnoten?"

They both nodded their head no and seemed a bit scared of me. I noticed the Mother pulling her son close to her as I spoke.

I pointed to the display of kruidnoten down at the end of the aisle. "See those? Those are kruidnoten. Get used to them. It is almost Christmas and you are in Holland. they are everywhere! You'll see. Good luck" and I turned and walked away. I am sure they thought I was crazy seeing as how it was September and I was talking about Christmas and strange cookies while carrying a basket full of Mon Chou bars.

When I got home I wanted to tell Jur about my bizarre, eye opening grocery store experience but to be honest I was still trying to figure it all out. Plus every time I come home from the store or ANYWHERE even though it has already been a year and half of living here, I always have some bizarre, eye opening experience. It is exhausting for both of us to hear and experience. So I am kind of at the stage where I keep some of it to myself. Partially to spare Jur the boredom and partially to not get mad at him for not fully understanding and sympathizing with me. Because if he doesn't he better watch the hell out, cause this is all his fault and and and.... well it is not his fault, but sometimes I get so frustrated I do not know how to channel my emotions.
So this time I chose not to tell Jur and besides, we had things to do like make and deliver cupcakes and also to go to the printer to run off copies of a flyer to announce our cupcake delivery service.

We made the cupcakes and I must say Jur, who is not the best cook, has become a master at piping forsting and decorating cupcakes. I cook. He decorates. It works. We made and delivered our cupcakes, made the copies of our flyer but all the while my experience earlier at the grocery was weighing heavily on my mind. It was like I was waking up form a deep coma and trying to figure out where I was. Who I was. Jur asked me a few times if I was okay. I still tried to keep it to myself.

And then...... as we were in the car at a stop light on a tiny side street and I stared ahead at the traffic
passing in front of us... it happened..... a yellow NYC taxi passed in front of me. A REAL NYC YELLOW TAXI! Followed immediately by a Los Angeles Police Cop car, followed right after by a light blue Chicago Police Cop car and then finally two big American Police Motorcycles and here is the kicker.... I swear I SWEAR that Police Motorcycle said San Antonio Police Department. My hometown. I SWEAR! In the Hague. This happened in Holland. Right in front of me. It was like I was in New York, Chicago, San Antonio and Holland all within the blink of an eye!

Okay....now.... I am going to use a bad word here, so excuse me, but this is what uncontrollably came out of my mouth.

"What the fuck was that?"

Words can not express my fear, my confusion, my utter despair as I was coming to terms with the fact that I am hallucinating and that this is the end. I am insane. I am also aware of my insanity and I am not sure what to do about it.

"What the hell was that?"

Now, THANK GOD for Jur. He saw it too. In my hysteria I insisted he weave his way through traffic so we could catch up with my hallucination. We did and, guess what, those damn Cops bikes WERE from the San Antonio Police Department. WHAT!?!? They were being driven by some old Dutch biker gang who I guess collect bikes and cars from the States. I was so freaked out I could not contain myself. I rolled down my window and began shouting at them "Hello! HELLO! I do not speak Dutch but I am from San Antonio! I AM FROM SAN ANTONIO. TEXAS! ME!"

The Dutch Biker just smiled and tried to focus on the road.

We came to a stop at a light and again still hysterical I started yelling "Hello! HELLO! ME! I am from San Antonio. ME SAN ANTONIO. (yes I find not using complete sentences sometimes helps in hysterical situations in a foreign country) Your bike is from my town? What are you doing here? This is confusing me! You are confusing me! I am Texas!
ME. I know your bike!!!!"

Poor Jur just stared at me and the biker just smiled and said "Texas" and then sped off!

Then I could no longer contain myself. My whole day and all my thoughts uncontrollably came out. I started telling Jur everything! Or I tried to. I told him that I am freaking out because of the Kruidnoten display. I said something about Mon Chou but I am not even sure what or why! I told him that I may have freaked out a British Mother and her Child who were looking biscuits. I said something about me not liking blacked faced elves throwing cookies at me. Jur looked scared but I continued and gave a passionate small speech about the wonders Rice krispie treats and chocolate and peanut butter as one of the greatest combinations EVER. I gave him a list of things we needed to do to prepare for Christmas. Finally I explained to him that seeing yellow taxis and Texas Police cars in the Hague is CLEARLY some sort of sign. It had to be right? RIGHT!!!!!!??????

I am sure none of if it made sense and judging from his silence I know it did not.

"SEE!!!!!!!!!!! YOU JUST DO NOT GET IT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT JUR!"
But I did not say that. Instead I came home and made some rice krispie treats!

By the way our customer LOVED the the Peanut Butter and Strawberry Jam Cupcakes. She wants more!

All is well and I am not crazy.

Eurovision 2010 the American Idol of Europe this year being hosted in Norway .. Eurovision .. bigger than the Super Bowl !

2010-04-28T08:48:00.001+02:00

Every country in Europe (and there are more than you think) like of course, Germany, France, Spain etc ., but also countries like Moldova, Lithuania, Estonia, Azerbaijan and Malta. EVERY COUNTRY in Europe sends a music performance to Eurovision. They all hold contests in their individual countries to choose their best performer to represent their countries! And they go all out to try and win. For example last year Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote the song for England. OH!!!!....and people like Celine Dion performed for Eurovision. In fact she got discovered representing France on Eurovison and won (1989)! AND.... ABBA got it's start on Eurovision and won in 1974! See it is big! In fact Super Bowl 2009 had 109 million viewer (a lot!) BUT Eurovision 2010 had 114 million viewers! See it is REALLY big!

Last year the Eurovision was held in Moscow because they won Eurovision the year before. This year it is in Norway because a young Norwegian Boy won and NOW.... JUST FOR YOU BACK IN THE STATES (or anyone from around the world).... here is his live video performance from Eurovision Contest 2009 Enjoy! (and notice he is singing in English!)

http://www.izlesene.com/video/muzik-2009-eurovision-birincisi-norvec/922964

It was a great song. I think he won cause he is cute. Okay, the way it works is that EVERY country in Europe has a contest to choose their Eurovision song contest representative. The winners all meet up in some country (last year’s winner’s country) and bring huge costumes and sets with them. The week of the contest they have semi final rounds live on TV and the entire Continent of Europe (except those countries participating in the semi-final) get to call in a vote who should move on. All done LIVE, all voting done in ONE HOUR and the seven countries (from EACH semi finals) going on to finals are announced that SAME night. The semi finals are Monday, Wednesday, Friday and the FINALS are Saturday! It is huge. Everyone watches or knows about it. There end up being 21 countries in the finals! At the finals they perform. All countries in Europe vote and then via satellite a representative from each country in Europe announces who their country voted for third place, second place and first place. Points are awarded for each place. A country cannot vote for their own entry. The points are then added up and the country with the most votes wins EUROVISION!

Now as with anything there is controversy.... The Western Countries feel the Eastern block countries favor countries from their region and vote for the countries in their region. I think it is HILARIOUS! All the passion and rivalry that Eurovision brings out! Now some countries choose to go main stream. It is amazing how so many of the songs are in English! I was shocked. BUT the funniest and most entertaining for me was how some of the music was REALLY GOOD....and some so god awful CHEESY! Like check these out:

Sweden...First off she is very UNIQUE looking (very muscular)(like a viking) BUT listen to her voice especially at the end I think she is pretty darn good… and it cracks me up because she is Swedish singing a song half in English and half in French in a contest in Russia and I am an American watching it in Holland sitting next to an Irishman while eating tapas! It is all confusing, intriguing, and a lot for an American to take in. Here she is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KP07YbJCSAI

Now one of my favorites (as I got sucked in the Eurovision 2009 and developed Eurovision fever) was Armenia....I mean who knew Armenia had such interesting music. Now these ladies had good voices, good choreography and cool costumes. (I voted for them). They made it to the finals. I even got so obsessed with them that I downloaded their song on iTunes….

YES AMERICAN FOLKS THAST RIGHT you CAN download the Eurovision finalist songs on iTUNES!

Anyway these Armenian (Sisters) are singing half the song in Armenian and half in English. I do not know why they sing in English but I am grateful (btw this song is great to work out with at the gym) so here they are..... MY 2009 favorite....Armenia! (It gets better and better just listen!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gapoY1L5sbA&feature=related

Just a few more that are worth watching:

France...Oh so French.... A modern version of Edith Piaf (there is a Spanish TV intro to this video)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x22BUFyWX1I

Moldova was very Moldavian (you know those Moldavians!).... Notice the Moldavian Rap!...sort of. YES FOLKS.....Maldivians RAP! So here is Rapping in traditional Moldavian costumes... Ladies and gentlemen I present Moldova..... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GGIYX-ClQ4

Now one last one.... I really liked this girl and song from Portugal. I bought her song too...

OH ALL RIGHT...I have a confession.... I bought EVERY song from every finalist on iTunes. I became obsessed! I admit it...

Now the young lady from Portugal sings in Portuguese and I do not know what the heck she is saying but I like her and she sounds pretty and she makes me want to go to Portugal and drink Port wine! She also got very emotional when singing in the finals. It was very touching.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNYBYH3bZFI&feature=related

A few others to mention are Ukraine, Israel, Malta and Turkey. The men who run my Winkel (Dutch for Corner Store) are from Turkey and they were VERY excited by the Woman singing for Turkey. She was good(Chakira-esque). I am telling you these performers are all mega stars in their own countries! You can Google YouTube (the country) 2009 Eurovision to check out YOUR favorite country AND NOW you can do the same now for the 2010 contestants (at the moment I like Ireland).

Eurovision is like the Miss Universe pageant of music! Except only in Europe! (Those close to me know I love me a Pageant (don't judge!)) (except Baby Pageants or little girl ones like on Toddler and Tiaras... Do ya'll know that show? Uggh they show it here in EUROPE! WHY? It is really disturbing and makes the U.S. look a bit insane!)

I guess I am so entertained by EUROVISION because of the diversity, the quality, and the cultures. Also how some countries were so good and some were just awful AND how at thirty (something) I had NEVER heard of this! EUROVISION is really big. I am so excited about Eurovision that this year I am hosting a Eurovision party. I have Dutch, Americans and a few English coming over. I am serving Mexican. We are all cheering for our countries (except me as an American) and, I have to say, although I live in Holland now.... I am not rooting for Holland…. Last year’s Dutch entry was... well.... embarrassing .... and unfortunately this year is not much better…. The Dutch have “different” taste in music.... Alright I am not going to sugar coat it: last year the Dutch entry was just plain awful and tacky! BUT that is part of what makes Eurovision GREAT and ENTERTAINING! So for your enjoyment.... here they are.... The Dutch.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXflKHw5MGA&feature=related

I hope you all can watch Eurovision this year! It starts the last week of May broadcasting from Oslo Norway on possibly one of the BBC channels and throughout Europe!

P.S.: The next big entertainment thing in Europe after Eurovision is the World Cup soccer. Which occurs only every 4 years... I am scared because major plans are already being made throughout Europe. I am sure I will be writing about that.

EUROVISION..... 2010.... Norway.... The European American Idol!

2010-04-27T09:15:00.006+02:00

EUROVISION! Have you ever heard of it? I LOVE EUROVISION! It is coming up at the end of May and I am SOOOOO EXCITED! I had NEVER heard of it until I moved here last year. ALL of Europe participates! If you have not heard of it than I am honored to introduce you all to ....EUROVISION!

Every country in Europe (and there are more than you think) like of course, Germany, France, Spain etc ., but also countries like Moldova, Lithuania, Estonia, Azerbaijan and Malta. EVERY COUNTRY in Europe sends a music performance to Eurovision. They all hold contests in their individual countries to choose their best performer to represent their countries! And they go all out to try and win. For example last year Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote the song for England. OH!!!!....and people like Celine Dion performed for Eurovision. In fact she got discovered representing France on Eurovison and won (1989)! AND.... ABBA got it's start on Eurovision and won in 1974! See it is big!

Last year the Eurovision was held in Moscow because they won Eurovision the year before. This year it is in Norway because a young Norwegian Boy won and NOW.... JUST FOR YOU BACK IN THE STATES (or anyone from around the world).... here is his live video performance from Eurovision Contest 2009 Enjoy! (and notice he is singing in English!)

http://www.izlesene.com/video/muzik-2009-eurovision-birincisi-norvec/922964

It was a great song. I think he won cause he is cute. Okay, the way it works is that EVERY country in Europe has a contest to choose their Eurovision song contest representative. The winners all meet up in some country (last year’s winner’s country) and bring huge costumes and sets with them. The week of the contest they have semi final rounds live on TV and the entire Continent of Europe (except those countries participating in the semi-final) get to call in a vote who should move on. All done LIVE, all voting done in ONE HOUR and the seven countries (from EACH semi finals) going on to finals are announced that SAME night. The semi finals are Monday, Wednesday, Friday and the FINALS are Saturday! It is huge. Everyone watches or knows about it. There end up being 21 countries in the finals! At the finals they perform. All countries in Europe vote and then via satellite a representative from each country in Europe announces who their country voted for third place, second place and first place. Points are awarded for each place. A country cannot vote for their own entry. The points are then added up and the country with the most votes wins EUROVISION!

Now as with anything there is controversy.... The Western Countries feel the Eastern block countries favor countries from their region and vote for the countries in their region. I think it is HILARIOUS! All the passion and rivalry that Eurovision brings out! Now some countries choose to go main stream. It is amazing how so many of the songs are in English! I was shocked. BUT the funniest and most entertaining for me was how some of the music was REALLY GOOD....and some so god awful CHEESY! Like check these out:

Sweden...First off she is very UNIQUE looking (very muscular)(like a viking) BUT listen to her voice especially at the end I think she is pretty darn good… and it cracks me up because she is Swedish singing a song half in English and half in French in a contest in Russia and I am an American watching it in Holland sitting next to an Irishman while eating tapas! It is all confusing, intriguing, and a lot for an American to take in. Here she is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KP07YbJCSAI

Now one of my favorites (as I got sucked in the Eurovision 2009 and developed Eurovision fever) was Armenia....I mean who knew Armenia had such interesting music. Now these ladies had good voices, good choreography and cool costumes. (I voted for them). They made it to the finals. I even got so obsessed with them that I downloaded their song on iTunes….

YES AMERICAN FOLKS THAST RIGHT you CAN download the Eurovision finalist songs on iTUNES!

Anyway these Armenian (Sisters) are singing half the song in Armenian and half in English. I do not know why they sing in English but I am grateful (btw this song is great to work out with at the gym) so here they are..... MY 2009 favorite....Armenia! (It gets better and better just listen!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gapoY1L5sbA&feature=related

Just a few more that are worth watching:

France...Oh so French.... A modern version of Edith Piaf (there is a Spanish TV intro to this video)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x22BUFyWX1I

Moldova was very Moldavian (you know those Moldavians!).... Notice the Moldavian Rap!...sort of. YES FOLKS.....Maldivians RAP! So here is Rapping in traditional Moldavian costumes... Ladies and gentlemen I present Moldova..... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GGIYX-ClQ4

Now one last one.... I really liked this girl and song from Portugal. I bought her song too...

OH ALL RIGHT...I have a confession.... I bought EVERY song from every finalist on iTunes. I became obsessed! I admit it...

Now the young lady from Portugal sings in Portuguese and I do not know what the heck she is saying but I like her and she sounds pretty and she makes me want to go to Portugal and drink Port wine! She also got very emotional when singing in the finals. It was very touching.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNYBYH3bZFI&feature=related

A few others to mention are Ukraine, Israel, Malta and Turkey. The men who run my Winkel (Dutch for Corner Store) are from Turkey and they were VERY excited by the Woman singing for Turkey. She was good(Chakira-esque). I am telling you these performers are all mega stars in their own countries! You can Google YouTube (the country) 2009 Eurovision to check out YOUR favorite country AND NOW you can do the same now for the 2010 contestants (at the moment I like Ireland).

Eurovision is like the Miss Universe pageant of music! Except only in Europe! (Those close to me know I love me a Pageant (don't judge!)) (except Baby Pageants or little girl ones like on Toddler and Tiaras... Do ya'll know that show? Uggh they show it here in EUROPE! WHY? It is really disturbing and makes the U.S. look a bit insane!)

I guess I am so entertained by EUROVISION because of the diversity, the quality, and the cultures. Also how some countries were so good and some were just awful AND how at thirty (something) I had NEVER heard of this! EUROVISION is really big. I am so excited about Eurovision that this year I am hosting a Eurovision party. I have Dutch, Americans and a few English coming over. I am serving Mexican. We are all cheering for our countries (except me as an American) and, I have to say, although I live in Holland now.... I am not rooting for Holland…. Last year’s Dutch entry was... well.... embarrassing .... and unfortunately this year is not much better…. The Dutch have “different” taste in music.... Alright I am not going to sugar coat it: last year the Dutch entry was just plain awful and tacky! BUT that is part of what makes Eurovision GREAT and ENTERTAINING! So for your enjoyment.... here they are.... The Dutch.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXflKHw5MGA&feature=related

I hope you all can watch Eurovision this year! It starts the last week of May broadcasting from Oslo Norway on possibly one of the BBC channels and throughout Europe!

P.S.: The next big entertainment thing in Europe after Eurovision is the World Cup soccer. Which occurs only every 4 years... I am scared because major plans are already being made throughout Europe. I am sure I will be writing about that.

Easter and food Issues from Holland

2010-03-21T12:52:00.003+01:00

It is Easter time and there are these damn Dutch Chocolate eggs everywhere. EVERYWHERE! Calling me. They are so pretty and they come in bags of 50 or 100. They are wrapped in pretty foil, with bright pastel colors, glimmering and inviting. They call to me I tell you. I want them. I need them. They are near the entrance of every store now. I keep tell myself that I will buy them and put them out for decoration, in the spirit of spring, in a pretty bowl and only allow myself one a day...... I cannot express to you my shame the other day when I woke up at 3 in the morning on the couch covered in little pastel foil wrappers and an empty bowl on the floor. What happened? I am not even sure.....I am in denial of the whole "incident"

On a good note....which could (or should you would think) (but hasn't yet) help me lose weight is that I think I am kind of over mayonnaise and french fries... the Dutch LOVE their fries with Mayo. Sometimes it is my only option but recently I have found two pimples and my face which has not happened since high school and I am certain it is because of this Dutch Mayo-Fry combo thing. My poor skin is freaking out. So this week I have been cutting back on the mayo and fries. I will let you know if this helps.

Now as Easter approaches my Amercianess is kicking in. I seem to be developing a desperate need for Reese’s Peanut Butter eggs. Real bad. I got it real bad ya'll. And Mounds eggs and Cadbury eggs (which are English right?) Maybe a ROADTRIP to England! NO! I can't do that. Jur might divorce me if I explained that I needed to go to England to get Cadbury chocolate eggs. He is still a bit "disturbed" about the 3 am couch, chocolate, covered in foils "incident". I guess I forgot to tell ya'll that he was the one that found me and apparently it may not have occurred only on the couch because we are finding foils in weird places. It may be possible that I have been eating them and unconsciously discarding the evidence. I blame the cats who like to play with them when they are on the floor but that does not explain how some of the foils ended up in a pile behind the books on the bookshelf.

I wonder if chocolate causes acne. Maybe it is not the mayo and fries.

To make matters worse I am still doing the cupcakes! 4 dozen going out this week. And I feel it is my obligation to taste them. Right? RIGHT?!?

Okay so I am going to take drastic measures......I guess I will be joining a gym. After all I might have to swim at some point this summer.

OH ....AND I am officially announcing that the "mediate myself into weight loss diet plan" does NOT work! The plan was I would lie down and visualize the calories burning away. I would visualize the svelte me. Lay and mediate the pounds away.......well all I would end up doing was falling asleep and then waking up groggy and needing a little wake me up nibble of something to perk me up. It was rather depressing and did more damage than good.

So I plan to join a gym. Eat less fries and mayo, cut back on chocolate (after Easter of course) and then I will be happy! Right? RIGHT?!?

I'll keep you posted. Happy Easter ya'll. Enjoy spring and life and Chocolate. Life is short!

P.S. You all know my grape jelly issues right?....Could someone back in the States please contact Welch’s and ask them why they would design a squeeze bottle that leaves a big blob of my cherished grape jelly at the bottom of the bottle that no matter how hard you bang it will not drop down and you cannot get a knife to reach down there to get it out and when you do try to get the damn blob out (because you are desperate for jelly) with the knife it falls in and when you try to get the knife out your fingers and the knife get covered in sticky grape jelly and you become very frustrated and end up looking like a pathetic junkie licking your fingers and the knife over the kitchen sink...... (This along with the 3 am chocolate foil couch incident were not my finest moments)....Ugghhhh Why is there no grape jelly in Holland?

I know and I am sorry

2010-03-05T13:35:00.009+01:00

I have not written in a while, I apologize....

Reasons I have not written:

1) There was the whole overthrow of the Dutch government...which I thought for a moment was a revolution...but then it turned out to not even be either an overthrow or a revolution! I was kind of dissapointed. I was ready to write my Dutch version of Les Miserables and march and protest but NOTHING....The Dutch are so civilized.....I had also planned to use the revolution as a spring board to introduce my Revolutionary American Cupcake business but since there was no revolution I have to put it on hold and come up with a new name.

2) Waiting for spring....the sun has appeared a couple times. My tulip bulbs (which are my first and which I think I may have planted a bit to early because I was so anxious call myself a tulip farmer) have sprouted! I spend a great deal of time looking at them from the window. I worry about them. The stupid pigeons walk near them and it is still kind of cold. Jur came home from work and saw that I had turned our garden into a kind of (as he called it) a trash dump. This is because in my tulip anxiety and obsession, I panicked, and thought it was going to be too cold one night and decided to cover each sprout with cups, plastic and cardboard (anything I could find). Considering there are 45 + sprouts, all right, maybe it did not look so good BUT atleast I knew my sprouts were safe! Jur tried to explain to me that Tulips are durable but I was not risking my first harvest! Hell no! Besides I was becoming attached to them. I found myself counting them several times a day and talking to them. I stopped doing that. The neighbors were staring.

3) Online weather reports....I NEED to know the temperature to protect the tulips. There are so many different weather sites and they all give different predictions and to convert them from Celsius to Fahrenheit. Aye! It is a never ending process. I also do this for the currency converter since I still have American money. I check to see the rates. They can change every 5 second (okay only about a 1/4 of a penny but I admit I am DETERMINED to get the best rate....and when I think it is up a 1/4 of cent I bolt out the door for the ATM. I think I save myself about .40 cents a month. But that 40 cents gives me a high. I know I should be writing.

4) I found a website that shows tons of American shows. This is both good and bad. Do I need to be watching the Bachelor? I have started to keep a calendar and journal of the shows I am watching and what episode I left off on. I miss TEVO. This site has led me to watch things I never watched before. For example I never used to watch Desperate Housewives but this site has every episode so I might as well. I am on season two of six so I guess I only have 50 something episodes to go....(I should be writing.)

5) Grape Jelly....I miss it. I only have about 1 and a 1/2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches worth to go. THEY DO NOT HAVE IT HERE IN HOLLAND. I have spent a great deal of time going to stores looking for it. I have looked and researched obsessively on line on how to make Welch’s grape jelly (btw I do not think grape jelly is healthy and I don't think there are even any grapes in it) I also have tried to push my Mother's visit up a few months out of fear of my diminishing grape jelly. She is not willing to base her visit around grape jelly. (Update: I am thinking of adding a couple teaspoons of water to my jelly to thin it out and fool myself that there is more in there)

6) Hawaii Tsunami....wasted a day (or several hours) watching some live video of a beach in Hawaii.... only to see a "possible" murky color wave sort of trickle ashore. (If I hadn't spent all that time watching this I would have already been on season 3 of Desperate Housewives) (Or I could have written)

7) Making cupcakes and empanadas.....seems I have a small following of Dutch people that are ordering from me. This is a good thing but after baking and tasting and making icing and tasting and leftovers I am usually in such a sugar coma that I can't even think of writing.

(and NOW beside still needing to write I really need to be going to the gym)

8) Daydreaming about the lottery... I admit it....I do.....leave me alone.

9) Oh and of course my job. Tomorrow is a big day. I am working an event which will involve me having to deal with a cash register.....Can you imagine? That should be fun....first off I do not speak Dutch and I only know numbers (kind of) up to 9 plus all the money here looks like Monopoly money so I do not take it seriously (they are very pretty to look at) AND there are 1 cent, 5 cent, 10 cent, 20 cent, 50 cent coins and 1 and 2 euro coins AND the bills come in different colors (pink, blue, orange) which I think that helps to tell the different values. They have pictues of Euorpean thingys all over them. I like to look at them. It is very possible that all hell could break loose at my register and I get fired. I am very excited about this adventure.

10) spent a chunk of time trying to persuade a few Americans back home to send me some Girl Scout cookies....I just felt left out.

I hope to get on track with my stories. I apologize again. In them meantime....How about you? How are you? What have you been doing?

Dutch Government Collapse report and revolution cupcake special

2010-02-20T11:47:00.002+01:00

Okay here is how it is going down. Apparently, yesterday there was a major Dutch Government conflict and a possible collapse of the ruling party. It was all over the news. It was about whether the Dutch should keep sending troops to Afghanistan and comply with NATO or keep a promise to pull out. Crowds were gathering. News crews everywhere. It was going on until two in the morning. AND ALL RIGHT DOWN THE STREET!

(living near the center of the Hague is very eventful! This is bigger than they day the Queen came by in her carriage. Which I missed and am still VERY upset about)

Then it hit me. This is the perfect opportunity to promote my American Cupcakes.

"Jur, we need to get out there and sell my cupcakes!"

I had it all planed out. We can make them patriotic with red, white and blue icing (the Dutch flag colors). We can print off a bunch a flyers! We will have a revolution cupcake special. Two min-cupcakes for the price one Euro.

Possible chants:

Eat cupcakes not war!

Sorry about the government collapse...cupcake?

Democracy cupcake special. Two for one!

Revolutionary Cupcakes! One time only!

We can make signs too! What I need is exposure and there are news crews everywhere! In fact if you happened to have caught the Dutch channel NOS news report at 8:00 a.m. I think you would have quickly seen my H&H Cupcake (Hardy & Hoorn) poster sign pop up on the lower right hand of the screen behind the reporter standing in front of the Parliament building but then I got pushed by the crowd. I tried so hard to get near the BBC and CNN reporters but they are prime spots and heavily guarded. That is okay I am not really ready to go International.

There are more protests planned near by today. Lot's of baking to do. I will keep you posted. This is my first government coup, collapse, over throw or whatever. It is all very exciting!

Politics and pastries.....what a combination!

Betty White for President!

2010-02-11T10:41:00.008+01:00

Sometimes it does get discouraging when you are bombarded with lack of progress on issues like health care reform, education, debt, LGBT equality, the economy, environment etc etc....I guess I am just discouraged by American Politics in general. Obviously Holland is not the most controversial or powerful country in the world so maybe I am living in a bubble. It seems like being here (outside of the U.S.) I am being de-programmed. When I turn on CNN American edition and hear the political news I guess the best description I can give is exasperation or disgust.....uuughhh! I try not to watch.

I can share with you that one of the interesting things that I have watched while being here in Holland are several Euro/BBC channels that often show documentaries about various reports or worldly issues. I have caught several about inner cities like in Miami, Cleveland, the Crystal Meth problem in America, the response to Katrina before and after (which apparently still is FAR from recovered), american obesity, ("The Biggest Loser" is big here), racism, immigration, medical care in America, poverty and more (all about America!). They, of course, do other reports about other issues in other countries as well, but my point is, that it is weird being outside the US and seeing and hearing a non-American view of "issues" in the U.S. They do reports about America like we do about Africa, Haiti, and war torn regions! Can you believe that? Issues that, as an American, I kind of "knew" about but thought did not compare to the other problems in the world. (We are the greatest country in the world right?) Issues that we kind of sweep under the rug or sugar coat, or our political system acknowlegdes but ignores the gravity of! Issues that other people in the world are finding shocking and horrifying. They ask me about them. Seeing it from a non-american perspective is disturbing. I want to deny that Amercia has real problems. America is still the best!

At dinners some Europeans have brought these documentaries and American "so called" problems up to me (or things they read or saw) and my instinct is to defend America. How dare they criticize America? How dare they point out problems in America? America is the greatest country on earth! (right? I was told that. We are told that! All the time! God is blessing America. We ARE great! right? we are! right?) I dare not say this too often because one time (slightly tipsy) I said it and was brought back down to the level of the rest of the earth when I was asked "why do Americans feel the need to say we are greatest all the time, especially to ourselves? How do we think that saying that makes other countries want to respect us or work with us more?" In fact, and brace yourself my fellow Americans, I was told..... "No. No not really. No. America is not the greatest country on earth. It might have been. It still maybe could be and it is beautiful, some parts, like the Grand Canyon, New York, Route 66 but, no, it isn't actually the greatest country on earth". I was DEVASTATED! Almost as devastated as I was when I realized that most Europeans do not know who Joan Rivers is. Can you believe that? To make matters worse the Europeans involved in the "conversation", were able to factually and eloquently, give a list of major problems the U.S. had and as an added stinger, they were able to eloquently do this in their native language as well as in English for me, the under-educated American. Plus I am pretty sure most of them could have done it in at least one other languauges as well. My biggest weapon of the evening was the old faithful... well we saved you in World War II! A low blow but I was desperate.

I will admit when I am alone and watch, read or hear the issues and lack of progress being made in America and the principles or top issues being debated on CNN, FOX, MSNBC and the glorification / exploitation of this slow as snail paced game called American politics by the media (and of course politicians) I get so angry at America too! The Europeans aren't insulting America they are just seeing what is really there and I am the one who needs to take the blinders off my eyes and....and....what then? Cry? Be thankful I am no longer there?....Scream WHAT THE "F" ? I love being an American! But, and I never thought I would say this, but maybe Sarah Palin is right....America is getting ready for a revolution. (I think her comment of a revolution starting was one of the things she had scribbled on her hands at her most recent tea party rally. Ugh!) Look, I don't want an American Revolution and I don't think she and I will be on the same side but.... them is fighting words Sarah!.... so ...bring...it ..on!

WAIT! See? I just got sucked into this stupid two party political BS cycle! I allowed Sarah Palin's performance (aka a "speech") to get me so riled up (Good Lord! A person I had never even heard of three years ago should not have that power over me)....Ugh!

What a lovely recent addition Sarah Palin has been to the american game called politics! And, who, by the way is very hard to explain / defend againist with the rest of the western world....Ugh!

I resent the fact that as an American I have to choose a side. Either the red team or the blue team. That is where we are at. Choose the lesser of two evils. When it comes down to it, I only have two choices. Why? I want more choices! How can this be changed? Well not with an Independent, that is for sure! We know that if you vote for Nader, a Republican wins. If we vote for Perot the Democrats win....so no Independent should DARE enter the race. Is there a way to legally get rid of the Democrats and Republicans? Maybe if Oprah ran? Or how old is Shirley Temple? What are her views I wonder? Maybe she can appeal to both sides. Oh! Betty White! Everyone loves Betty White. Betty White for President! I am desperate here!

One last thing. The other day I saw an interview on CNN about the nastiness of american politics and how regular Americans at protests, as well as politicians, were being lewd, nasty, threatening, out of control and crossing the line with their protests and frustrations. Both Democrats and Republicans. CNN had their Democratic and Republican analysts, Donna Brazil and Mary Matlin, both admitting that this was all getting way out of control (yet still saying their side was less guilty than the other side..ugh!) but they both agreed it was getting bad and needed to be taken down a notch... AND then...right at the end....there was this little giggly personal moment between the two analysts and the CNN anchor where they said ..."Should we tell them?..... No let's not tell our secrets! .... (the anchor) Oh come on tell us? Well You know what we do after this, usually we go out for a nice dinner together and let all this go while we share a nice bottle of wine."..... OF COURSE THEY DO! They are making a mint off it! They should be celebrating. They are thriving off of this! .... As long as they keep promoting this see saw of a battle THEY win! It is shameful!

Where is the Dalai Lama? He can help! I need to spend some spiritual time with him! Oh... WAIT.... poor guy is caught up in negotiations with the White House who is negotiating with China over whether he can visit Obama because the Chinese don't like him and will take it out on the U.S. and Republicans don't like the Chinese and need Obama to look bad so they can win the next election so they want him to ...oh ...ugh ...never mind! Will someone please call me if there is a revolution about to start? I am going out for some dutch chocolate sprinkles.

Why I love Dutch Chocolate!

2010-02-07T16:03:00.006+01:00

My addiction to chocolate began when I got my first real job at the age of Sixteen. I was hired to be the night shift sales associate at Russell Stover's Chocolate Candy Store at North Star Mall. Actually I called myself the night Manager but I was only able to say that because I was the only employee in the evening.

I, Ken Hardy, was given a key to, and left alone five nights for five hours, in a store filled with chocolate. This was a dream come true! It was like being in the Willy Wonka Factory!

Everything started off well. I was very committed to being a good employee, never late, mindful of the rules, always keeping busy and not causing any trouble. After all this was my first real job. Since I was the only employee I could not take a dinner break so I would bring a bottle of water and my dinner usually consisted of a sandwich or salad. My focus was the job. I hadn’t really even gotten that excited about the chocolates that were sprawled out in front of me. I was so naïve. All I really knew of chocolate before this job were simple silly things like M&M’s, Baby Ruths, and of course Snickers. Little did I know, through this job, I was embarking on a powerful love affair with the Cacao Bean.

The Cacao Bean. The plant that chocolate is made from. Grown and harvested originally in the misty lush hills of Qaxaca Mexico, A magical Place. I wonder if my Mexican ancestors were from that region. It would explain a lot about my passion. Did you know that the harvesting of the cacao is not an easy process and involves grinding, forming a powder and then liquefying it. Cacao has been worshipped, used as medicine and the Europeans used it as currency with the natives. The cacao is powerful and historical! I learned all this and more from my pilgrimage and behind the scenes tour of The Hershey Chocolate Factory in Pennsylvania. Another magical Place. Heaven on earth. I also learned a great deal about the cacao from my many readings of books like Cocoa and Chocolate: A short History and The True History of Chocolate and of course the autobiography Chocolate By Hershey: The story about Milton S. Hershey.

Slowly I began to loosen up at work and started to enjoy the “perks” I discovered that come with unsupervised freedom in a chocolate store. I began to sample chocolates. Now I wasn’t going to go crazy or anything. I started off simple. Besides I only liked milk chocolate. I did not like nougat, or fruity chocolates. I had never even heard of chocolate covered jellies, and definitely NO to coconut. I was not a coconut fan. As for the fudge section well I did not know a lot about fudge and fudges seemed too rich. So really all I was sampling (on occasion) would just be a few pieces of milk chocolate. Like the chocolate covered almond cluster or cashew crunches or of course a peanut butter cup (or two). I liked the chocolate covered nuts section. Probably due to my earlier mentioned snickers addiction.

I soon discovered that when you work at a chocolate store and it is a non-holiday time of the year you find that you have a lot of time on your hands. Not many people drive to the mall to buy chocolates on a Tuesday night at seven p.m. Sure a few mall walkers might drop in to buy three or four pieces but at seventy five cents each not many people indulged on this. The most exciting sale was when someone came in and wanted me to make them a gourmet assortment! They would ask ME for recommendations. It was at this point that I decided it was my duty to know all 100 + types of chocolates we offered. Right? (Except of course the sugar free section. I mean what was the point?) I needed to be able to describe or inform the customer of our product. After all chocolate is like a fine wine and needs to be savored. So I forced myself to eat them all. I learned so much. I would even take notes of my chocolate thoughts!

Dark Chocolate raspberry truffles are actually quite good, fluffy, not bitter and they don’t have seeds like I had feared.

Wow Dark Chocolate Orange Jelly sticks are sort of bitter and tangy. A lovely combination. Probably good with coffee.

I started coming up with all kinds of ideas. The combinations were endless.

A strawberry cream with a peanut butter cup is like a chocolate peanut butter and jelly sandwich!

Any of these chocolates mixed with Vanilla Ice Cream and you could have an instant gourmet Dairy Queen Blizzard.

So this is what I did every night, I ate chocolate. Unaware that I was doing it more and more. I am not sure when it happened but I stopped bringing in my dinners. My only source of food now was the chocolate. I also stopped bringing in my water because I decided to start bringing in hot chocolate. I want to experiment with pairing hot cocoa with different chocolates. I would have done this with coffee but I was not a coffee drinker. I did not like the taste and saw how people got addicted to it and how it made them jittery. (Although dark chocolate espresso truffles are superb!)

Anyway I can tell you passionately that a chocolate covered toffee bar ground up melts deliciously perfect in hot chocolate (and I am sure coffee too). Oh and a double dipped gourmet chocolate covered marshmallow floating in a big mug is a spiritual experience! You must try it.

But I do not recommend eating large amounts of chocolate without drinking water. I had to close the store on several occasions because I would become dizzy from what I believe was dehydration. I almost fainted once. It was frightening. I saw silver flash and everything started swirling. I was barely able to stumble to the door and lock it. I would turn out the lights for a few minutes and lay on the floor. I would make my way to a small sink we had in the bathroom and slurp water and revive myself. I am sure if corporate ever found out about this I would have been given a warning or something. I started bringing in bottled water and kept it with me at all times.

Still no warning signs were stopping me. The fudges were no longer too rich for me. OH! Have you ever had divinity fudge? It is heavenly. Lighter then air, I love divinity fudge. Oh and then there were the seasonal candies like the strawberry valentine cream hearts, or the hollow chocolate Thanksgiving turkeys or the Easter green colored white chocolate coconut bird nests (with the three pastel jelly beans.) Soooo delicious! Yes Coconut! I now LOVE chocolate covered Coconut. My years of avoiding mounds bars were so foolish! Foolish I say. Chocolate and coconut are perfection. Every holiday I would stash a box of the special seasonal candy like the peanut butter Reindeers and I would hide it in my bedroom in the closet....because...well....because come February I would be the only one to have them! Only me!!!!!! I was special!

Sure things were getting out of control. I could see the employees from the GAP across the way watching me as I sat behind my counter chewing. I knew they were making fun of me. They were pointing at me and giggling everytime I put a piece of chocolate in my mouth. I know it. I tried to hang decorative displays to block their view. I even resorted to squatting behind the counter when I would eat so they wouldn’t see me but several times customers walked in and seemed shocked when I would pop up, with a mouth full of chocolate, all wired and slur something like “ohm... smorry... uh, oh my , hi excuse me..well! Welcome to Russell Stover’s care for a sample? There delicious!”

The sample was a big thing! We were allowed to give one piece as a sample. This was power to me. I could do whatever I wanted with the chocolate. I could give it away. And I did. BUT only if I liked you. Don’t cross me or I’ll cut you off. So if I liked you or you were good to me MAYBE you could have even a FEW pieces. See how this works? Make it worth my while if you get what I am saying? I started to develop relationships with other mall employees. If I gave the woman at Hickory Farms a few free French Chocolate mints I got a few extra chunks of salami and cheddar cheese samples. Or if I gave the cologne crew at Macy's a bag of assorted salted caramels I got a lovely bag of sample lotions and colognes. Sometimes I even got discounts on sale items for some of my cacao. I was becoming the Tony Soprano of the Mall.

Unfortunately I was starting to look like him too. Okay ALL RIGHT....YES there was a little weight gain issue. Not much but maybe like 25 pounds in the first six months. Which is not as bad as you would think with all the chocolate I was consuming. Everyone at home and in the mall saw my weight gain! I know they did. They were all staring and pointing. Why couldn’t people just leave me and my chocolate alone. We were happy!

My need for chocolate was getting bad. Since I didn’t work on the weekend I started taking a one pound assortment home to get me through till Monday (of course I still had the holiday specials hidden in my closet just in case)

I started developing a pretty bad acne problem. Also I had to avoid drinking hot or cold beverages because for "some reason" my teeth were becoming sensitive. I would bring my tooth brush and use it several times a shift but no matter how often you brush, sugar builds up. I also took up using lots of chap-stick because my lips were cracked and dehydrated. I had developed minor episodes of nervousness, anxiety and some said slight paranoia. Well of course I was! I was surrounded by people who were only using me to get to my Chocolate! That's all they wanted. I didn’t know who my real friends were anymore. Even my parents would call and ask me to bring a piece of "this or that" home. Everyone was using me! Plus I was suffering from sleep deprivation being hopped up on the cacao. Each week it took longer and longer to come down after each shift! Several times a day various parts of my body would uncontrollably tremor. For no reason at all.

My friends and family eventually started to express some concern but I assured them that I didn’t have a problem which they knew wasn’t true when they would see all the candy wrappers on the floor in my room or falling out of my pockets. Also my parents found the boxes in my closet and a few out in the garage. Okay.... I was in denial. I only had about five pieces of clothing that fit me anymore. I was getting close to rock bottom.

You would think I would have gotten fired, but the fact is the Real Manager (and the only other employee) Mabel, well, she had a SERIOUS chocolate problem! Serious. Poor thing she was a mess. Heavy. Bad teeth. I think she was in her early fifties but she looked seventy. She had breathing problems and dark circles and bags under her eyes. She always left the day shift with a bag filled with what I know was a large amount of illegal product! She was the one that needed help. It was hard to watch. Of course now that I look back on it we were both enabling each other.

That is until the unthinkable. The mall terminated our lease because of stupid ass mall renovations. Russell Stover’s Corporate in stupid Chicago or wherever decided not to renew the lease in a new location of the mall. And just like that Mabel and my world began to crumble. There were feelings of despair, panic, anger. Mabel really freaked out! We both cried as the shelves became more and more barren. Who would hire either of us? We were a mess. Fat, covered in pimples, moody. No one in the mall came over to help us or express concern! USERS! What were we going to do? Plus we had to take as much chocolate as we possibly could while there was still time! But we both knew no matter how much chocolate we took we would eventually run out. What job could I get that would pay me enough to support my chocolate habit? It’s not like there are tons of jobs in the chocolate industry. Eventually I did find a job where my moodiness and tremors were acceptable (and they even had a bit of chocolate) STARBUCKS! Ahhhh the beginning of a long deep love affair with the coffee bean! I LOVE COFFEE NOW!

Dutch Provisions Dwindling...

2010-01-30T14:52:00.005+01:00

Holland Winter Diary Day One....Holland cold. Snowed again last night. Dark early. Too cold to take a shower. I shiver. Slowly I have began to wear only black. The cats have taken to sleeping under heaters. To difficult to go to store for bread and milk. Provisions running low.

Holland Winter Diary Day Two....Holland still cold. Outside birds cold too. Want to feed them but hate opening door to throw the seeds out to cold. Cats seemed depressed. Especially Marvin. Provisions still low but ran to corner Winkel bought cookies. Ate with last of milk. Made me cold. Took shower. Jur happy.

Holland Winter Diary Day Three.... Holland cold and more snow. Dutch say rare weather. I think they lie to me. They are out to break me. They all lie. Possible winter paranoia. Fingers get numb if outside. Even with gloves. Still wear black. Broke down and ate Stove Top stuffing I brought from America for a special occasion. Hoped it make me happy. Sad it is gone. Eyeing my bag of Nestle Chocolate Chips. Must be strong.

Holland Winter Diary Day four....Had to go out. Meet Jur family at restaurant. Walked there. I was scared. Snow and sleet. Hands hurt. Runny nose. Wet. First time in life I EVER saw women wearing Burkas and was jealous. They looked warm.

Holland Winter Diary Day Five....Sun came out. Looked from window. It was pretty. Marvin seems to have winter kitty dementia. He looks like Jack Nicholson from Shinning. Worry he might try to kill us at night. Give him lots of kitty treats. Jur went to store we have peanut butter and bread now.

Holland Winter Diary Day Six....Cold. Power went out for a time. Peanut Butter all gone. Still cold. Jur and I fight over blankets. Feel a draft by front door. Spend much time regretting not having canned goods. Looking at pictures of Tahiti. Hope keep correspondence up.

Holland Winter Diary 7- Cold - only plant in kitchen dead - pretend alive - talk to self often - chocolate chips gone- dreamt I running outside. keep hope correspondence up - SOS

My new name is Ken Fendi Matsalay Hardy! Part 3 of 3

2010-01-27T13:58:00.007+01:00

My Malaysian host Father Aya drove me to my new home for the next few months. I ended up better than poor American Joe who I left in the darkness of night in a hut in some jungle mountain about 45 minutes away. Things appeared better at my home. There was electricity and running water with an indoor bathroom. Sort of. They don’t have toilets (or toilet paper) so the bathroom was a hole that you squat over to do your business and then when you are done there is a bucket of water that you “clean” yourself with and then flush with the leftover water. One of the many splendors of Malaysia. I had other shocking issues to deal with besides the toilet. The house was a three bedroom (small small bedrooms), with a kitchen and one living room home. My host family consisted of Mama, Aya, an Uncle named Semat, and my new little siblings named Jojo, Jiji, Jaja, and Lena (ranging in ages from 2-9). So space was limited. This is a hard thing to deal with when you are a big American who is from Texas and accustomed to lots of space. I was in shock and nervous and felt trapped! Suddenly Joe’s jungle seemed like a lovely place to explore. Everything seemed so stuffy and I had absolutely no privacy. Our house was in a cluster of other “homes”. I hate to say this but it was sort of like what you see those missionaries walking through carrying a child and asking you to sponsor a child for a dollar a day. This was my home village now.

I was given a new name...Fendi...Which took me a while to realize was my new name. My identity was slowly being taken away. Kids were screaming Fendi and everyone would laugh as all the children and their friends would drag me from home to home. They would also call me Matsalay, which of course I was told to expect to hear from my Malaysian instructors and as I was told to do I would always say thank you. For a time I walked around and introduced myself as Ken Fendi Matsalay. The Malays would all laugh and point! I would laugh too because I am sure it sounded crazy but I was desperate to talk and slightly delirious.

I was so hungry and thirsty. Actually I had been hungry since I left LA. I was losing weight fast in Malaysia. This wasn’t hard to do because I came with quite a few extra pounds. The problem was I recognized no food, didn’t know how to ask for food and they just didn’t seem to have any food. There were no pantries filled with food or a big refrigerator filled with goodies like back home. I saw food things for sale on the streets but was not sure what any of it was and how safe it was to eat.

There was also the minnows issue that greatly affected my eating. Now those who know me, know that I DO NOT like fish and I DO NOT like to eat food with bones in it. Well the Malaysians have these dried minnows that they buy by the bag full (and they stink!) and they put them in everything. EVERYTHING! Every meal I was served had minnows in it. Minnows in the curry, minnows in the rice, minnows in the eggs. Vegetables with minnows. Yes, I get it, the minnows provide an important source of protein but they taste like minnows and look horrible. Little eyes and heads and ribs and tails and scales floating in all my food. I hated those minnows! I was vigilant about scooping those minnows out . It would take me about 3 minutes just to form a safe minnow free handful of food. I say handful because they used no silverware. So everyone just scooped out the food on a plate with their right hand. RIGHT HAND ONLY! Know why? Well remember that using water to “clean” yourself bathroom thing? That is what your left hand was reserved for. Anyway by the time I had scooped out the minnow bits in my handful of food and I would be willing to try to get some more the children had destroyed or contaminated it. See we ate on the floor so if you can imagine having 4 young children grabbing at the bowls of food, (some with their LEFT hand)and playing with the food and putting back in the bowl and spitting up and well the point is you had to eat fast to get decent food. There was no time for minnow cleaning. Starvation eventually forced me to just give in and grab the food as quickly as I could... minnows and all!.

I was not only hungry but I was thirsty. So thirsty. The thirst was worse than hunger. Way worse. Malaysia was hot. So HOT! And you can’t drink water unless it is boiled. Can you imagine? You have no idea how difficult it is to wait for hot water to cool when you’re thirsty and it is so hot outside that you are diripping in sweat. Even when you sleep. I was thirsty and I wanted water NOW! And not HOT water dammit! I am a fat spoiled American. I need water! I NEED IT! I admit a few times I did lose it and sobbed/yelled “silla air!” (please water). That was my first Malaysian sentence by they way. Please water. My second sentence was “more, more, please water”. My third sentence was “we need boil many please water” (or something like that). I was thirsty all the time. I considered offering them money to buy a barrel so we could fill it with boiled water but I could not figure out how to say this.

I spent the first few weeks walking around that village with everyone calling me Matsalay, Matsalay, and I as I was told to do I would still smile (even with sore dehydrated cracked lips) and say “thank you...silla air bottle where buy?” and hand mimic drinking. They would just laugh.

Several weeks later I finally sat down and attempted to ask my host mother a few questions (My Malaysian was getting better. The need to survive is a powerful motivator.) One of the questions I asked was what exactly Matsalay means. She laughed and then finally explained to me that Matsalay wasn’t exactly a compliment but more of a Malaysian joke that meant white fat duck. Malaysians call overweight white people a White...Fat...Duck...OH MY GOD! I was livid. If I had had the strength I would have run out of there. I would have cried but was too dehydrated. Can you believe that?!? All these Malaysians had been watching me wonder around this village desperately trying to find food and water, suffering and they were mocking me calling me...a WHITE FAT DUCK! And I THANKED every last damn one of them when they did it! I was trying to be a good American and they made a fool of me! I am in hell!!!!!!! My host mother could see this upset me and she tried to tell me “Fendi (Ken) no Matsalay (white fate duck). Fendi (Ken) no lemak (fat) Fendi (Ken) kering (skinny).” I wanted to scream at her “That’s because I AM STARVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!” But she would not have understood and probably would have just laughed. They were always laughing at me and my suffering.

All these difficulties were poured into my first series of letters to my family in Texas. It took a few weeks to get a response but eventually I started getting letters from my family and friends and they were ALL written on toilet paper. I cried when I got it, then immediately hid it. I was not going to share my letters or my toilet paper with these people who were torturing me. Besides the thought of trying to explain to them how to use it was not something I wanted to do. Every time I got a letter I would wait to open it until I had to go to the bathroom. It was my private time. A treat. I would squat, read, cry and wipe! I loved those letters.

I never found bottled water in my village so several times a day you could find me squatting in the kitchen boiling a pot of water, then blowing on it for about fifteen minutes to make it drinkable. One time I was so thirsty that I was blowing so hard and fast that I passed out. (In my defense I was sweaty, squatting, mal nourished and weak.) Usually I would drink the first pot as I was boiling another. I used the second pot to fill a plastic coke bottle I had bought in a nearby city. You would think that finding coke bottles would be easy, right? But not in Malaysia. If you can even find someone selling coke in bottles (either glass or plastic) they won’t give them to you! They want to recycle them. No, the Malaysian are not green…they were doing it for the cash. I wanted that damn bottle but they just would NOT give it to me. C-mom give a Matsalay a break! Instead when you buy a coke they pour it into a plastic sandwich bag and give you a straw (btw straws make good minnow scooping out devices if you have them time to scoop them out.) Eventually I paid a guy double the price for a coke so I could keep the bottle and used it as a canteen. It was my prized procession. Making sure I had drinkable water was a never ending process.

There were a couple other factors that contributed to my Malaysian Weight loss. Walking and squatting. I walked everywhere and was doing about 10,000 squats a day. I would walk in search of food, walk to find bottles, walk to school (which is a whole other blog), walk to entertain myself and see things since there was no T.V. I would walk daily to the post office. All I did was walk! And the squatting….squat for bathroom, squat to eat, squat to boil water, squat to wash clothes, and sometimes just squat outside the front door and watch the alley. I do not know why we did this but that was what they did. Malaysians squat a lot. When I frist arrived I could not squat. It was embarrassing being the Matsalay that would fall over when squatting and gross when it would happen in a bathroom. After a while I became a master squatter. I was developing buns and legs of steel!

Now that I look back on it Malaysia was the best diet I had ever been on and I have been on a lot. A few times I wondered if my parents planned this and it was all a trick. Maybe AFS was not American Field Service but American Fat Students program or something...But that couldn’t be because Joe and the others I arrived with were not fat. Maybe they were teenage juvenial delinquents or they had drug problems and needed to be isolated. Malaysia was the AFS country to send the gluttonous out of control teens of America.

Squatting everyday for hours outside the front door I had a lot of time to ponder my how or why I ended up here in Malaysia.

I thought about Joe. I had not forgotten about him. I finally figured out how to ask if I could go visit Joe. They gave me directions on how to take a bus to see him and my host Grandparents. It was a frightening bus journey. The bus was filled to capacity with people and fruits and chickens. I was the only Matsalay as usual and got lots of looks and giggles as I sat there nervous, sweating and clasping my beat up water filled coke bottle. The bus was very loud and old and seemed as though one wrong move and the thing would just crumble to pieces. This is not a good thing to be thinking as your driving up the sides of hills in the jungle. I panicked a few times but I made it to what appeared to be the base of the mountain trail that leads to Joe’s house. Actually my host mother wrote it on a paper for me to hand to the driver. He yelled out “Matsalay…you go!” I jumped up and pushed my way through as several Malaysians giggled. I just kept telling myself that my Malaysian Mom told me I am not Matsalay anymore so they can just shut up. Ignore them Ken. And DO NOT drop your coke bottle. DO NOT drop your bottle!

Now I had to hike my way up to see Joe. I had no idea where Joes shack was. I only had my visions of the one night I was here. I saw many other shacks that I thought were Joes and I would ask people “Joe, American Joe, Nene, and Kaklela?” And they kept pointing up. This better not be a damn joke! A few people called me Matsalay as they would point me to keep going uphill to my destination. After a while I noticed I had a small crowd of Malaysians following me on my pilgrimage up the mountain. I guess they were wondering if I would make it. People would all come out of there huts as I would make my way up. It was as if they could tell something was happening. A freak was here! The Circus has come to town. Come out and look at the suffering, sweaty, lost, white fat duck, talking to himself, looking for his friend (who was probably dead) Joe. I was talking to myself. I admit it. I was panting, possibly lost, in the jungles of Malaysia and all I had to comfort me were the voices in my head. The jungle heat will do that to you. I finally found the shack that was Joe’s home. I recognized the one light bulb they had by the door. There were of course lots of goats and chickens about, but I saw no one. I peaked in the front hole of the dwelling and all I saw was darkness. As my eyes began to adjust I began to make out a figure, off in the distance, on the floor in the corner. It was Joe and he was sitting on some sort of straw mat. With a few pictures, a pen and some paper scattered around him. He must have been trying to write a letter. Could he even mail it form here I wondered? He was wearing a very dirty I-zod shirt and a sarong (Malaysian sheet dress) (I had one too but only wore it to sleep in.) He had a bamboo leaf type fan in his hand. I could see beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. His glasses were all smeared and dusty. I am not sure he even heard me peek in. “Joe” I said softly, “Joe?” He slowly turned to me. I saw a fly on his chin. I was concerned he might be incoherent, “Joe it’s me Ken” (I was going to say Fendi, my new Malaysian name, but I thought that might be too much for him right now.) “Are you okay Joe?” I crossed over to him and swatted the fly away. It came right back. Malaysian flies are quick, fearless and aggressive. “You okay Joe? How are things here for you? Are you having fun?” Joe’s eyes finally met mine; I noticed his lips were so cracked. He wasn’t boiling enough water. I thought about giving him some of mine but I needed it to get home.

“Ken” he said “I wanted to go to Italy.”

I spent the next hour listening to him talk about Italian food and Italian art. How he loved art. How Italy was where he dreamed of going. I made him a glass of hot water (and filled my bottle) and revived him.

We spent the next month and a half going back and forth seeing each other and meeting up in places. The stories of these adventures would have to be in a book or something. Like when we ran away for a week to Singapore. (We got in a lot of trouble for that one.) The weekend Joe came to sell curried BBQ chicken with my family at some festival and we found bottled water. Or the day we were allowed to eat beef (Muslims don’t eat beef except on Holidays). We got so sick. Our toilet paper runs to a McDonalds a few cities away. My attempt to go to a dentist etc etc.

Now that it is all said and done though I have to tell you that I loved, loved, loved my summer in Malaysia. I cried when I left. I came back to the states thin and in shape. My parents seemed curiously proud and satisfied about this. Hmmmmm....

Malaysia Part 2 of 3 Survival

2010-01-21T13:15:00.004+01:00

My first stop was in Los Angeles for a two day orientation before leaving for Malaysia. AFS kids were arriving from all over the country. When we arrived at the hotel we were told to go to the banquet hall. We were grouped according to our host country. There were about two hundred people going to Australia and Japan. About one hundred students going to New Zealand and off in the far dark corner by the trash cans were the thirteen of us headed to Malaysia. Future Australians and New Zealanders would walk toward us with their trash saying things like Malaysia? What is a Malaysia? I know I saw students from every group pointing at us and giggling. I am sure they were saying things like "the trash is over in Malaysia." We Malaysians just huddled together with our heads down. We were a sad group. The AFS little lepers. All the other country groups seemed so excited and happy talking about Sushi and Kangaroos and shouting things like: “I love Crocodile Dundee! Oh my god you live near me?....we are going to be best friends forever!" Our Malaysian cluster whispered things like: "Did you choose Malaysia? Or which shots did you get?"

In those two days we learned about the different aspects of Malaysia. We were taught more of the specifics of where we were going to be staying and our families. Apparently two of the thirteen of us were staying with some "well off" families in the capital of Kuala Lumpur. The picture of their house looked so nice and their families had shoes and one had a TV. Some of us learned that we were in smaller towns and then some of us got the news that we were in very "rural" areas. I apparently, of course, was in this third group. I knew this because every time I would tell one of our Malaysian instructors my "village is Termerloh" their eyes would widen and they would say things like "oh...that is very....unique.” One Malaysian said something in broken English about "Oooooh ....Termerloh.... ooooh long drive, many miles...special bus for mountains and, river.... need canoe to take for village." Of course this was shocking but I just blocked this out. What else could I do? It was not like there was some AFS Concierge to pull aside and say "I would like to talk about my accomdations. I don't like my family, can I get a new one?" I was stuck and had no return ticket for several months. After they told me all they could about my "village" they asked if I had any questions. I was so numb and confused the only thing I could even semi think of asking was if Termerloh had Coca Cola, shoes and a Doctor?

I also learned some basic language necessities and things that apparently I should become accustomed to, like, being called a Matsalay which I was told by my instructor was what Malaysians call rich white Americans. They told me many people will call me Matsalay. Okay so I need to get used to being a Matsalay.

We were off to Malaysia. When we arrived we went through a few more days of orientation. It was at this time I learned that due to a family illness my host family had canceled. I was sad and worried about this. What if my parents were going to send me a care package? How would I get? Those Villagers would get my package and pillage it! Oh... and of course I was worried about my host family’s sick parent. Actually, I can't lie, I was kind of relieved too. The whole car, bus, canoe, no shoes and unrecognizable animal thing was freaking me out. I was sure this was Gods intervention and he was going to provide me with one of those rich Kuala Lumpur people! But, alas, no. I was placed with a new family that was the son of a family that was hosting Joe from Georgia (another from our group). Joe was a blonde haired blue eyed southern future Frat Boy type. We joked with each other that Joe was now my Uncle. Apparently we were not in the same village but we were going to be near each other which we were kind of excited about. Although my new home still sounded remote, Joes family pic was not that great either and had unrecognizable animals and, of course, no shoes.

I know I keep bringing up shoes but I need shoes. I am accustomed to shoes. I like shoes. I am certain I have tenderfoot. My condition has not been diagnosed but my feet are sensitive. And I also like socks. I packed fifteen pair. I do not want to be walking through jungles with spiders and snakes barefoot. What if I got a splinter?

The day came for our family to pick us up. We were so nervous. Joe and I were handed over to an elderly woman, named Nene, a woman named Kaklayla, and a man named Aya. We had no idea who they were (they looked nothing like the photos) but we were told to go with them. They had a little kind of car thingy that I had never seen before and seemed as though it were made up of several pieces of other cars. We drove into the night and drove and drove and drove. No one really talked. They spoke no English and we didn’t speak Bahasa Malaysia. Plus the car was loud so we would have had to yell. So we all just smiled at each other.

This was a good time for me to check out their teeth. I have a teeth thing. Good teeth, like shoes, are important. Before I left for my jungle journey I had my teeth cleaned and a filling replaced. I wanted no teeth drama whilst in Malaysia. Well, a half hour after our take off from LA to Malaysia (with stops in Hawaii and Tokyo) I was eating a Jolly Rancher. One of the many candies I brought with me to get me through the Malaysian months and to give (MAYBE) to the village children, which is what I told my Mom in order to get her to buy them for me. I ended up eating ninety percent of the candy before the plane even landed. Clearly I was stress eating. Anyway, I prematurely bit into the Jolly Rancher and my new filling popped right out! Great! And to make matters worse I swallowed it! I almost rang for the Flight Attendant to have them turn the plane around. I was having a medical emergency! My fellow Malaysian AFS'ers calmed me down and offered me more candy to sooth me. Lovely. Just LOVELY! Add visiting the Village Voodoo Dentist to the list of upcoming frightening experiences. I pictured myself lying in some hut with villagers chanting around me as they yanked out my tooth. I decided I was just going to ignore it. Besides it only throbbed when I ate or drank on my right side. I could handle that. Anyway while I was at the dentist in the States I came up with the brilliant idea to bring a bunch of tooth brushes to all the villagers! I would be an American Missionary in Malaysia saving teeth. I thought it was a brilliant idea. As it turns out Malaysian teeth are fine. They all seemed to have tooth brushes and, ironically, I was the only with a tooth problem which I never told anyone about. Because of this there are a bunch of Malaysians that think Americans only chew on their left side.

Joe, Nene, Kaklayla, Aya and I seemed to be driving through very remote jungle like terrain, with occasional torrential rain storms that dripped through the cracks of the "car" roof. The car seemed to be welded together pretty well although it would make different rattles and noises every time we went over a bump or what I think were streams. It was scary. I remember Joe and I holding hands a few times just to reassure each other when we thought the car was stalling. The car would make an odd loud noise, and the lights on the dashboard would began to flicker and Aya would start grabbing wires under the dashboard and old Nene would reach over to hold the wheel. They would all start yelling things in Malaysian and Joe and I would hold hands. I was glad he was there.

Eventually we arrived at what appeared to be a village hut up on a hill. It was very dark and it was clear this shack was some sort of home. There were several Malaysians gathered and there were children and animals. Joe and I slid out of the car openings of the transportation device and we just tried to go with the flow. I am sure we were both thinking (well I know I was) where in the hell are we? Is this a home that one of us will be living in? Oh God please DO NOT let me be the one who lives here? Please do not let this be my house! Give me a break. I have a bad tooth, I won't be getting care packages, I do not have any more candy! Please show me some mercy!

I was overwhelmed meeting all these people. Datu, Semat, Leele. All kinds of names that sounded like, well, like nothing I had ever heard before. Nothing! Slowly things started to catch my eye. I don’t see any electrical lighting. Wait there is one light bulb hanging from a wood plank by what I think is a front door entrance. Oh and Sweet Mother of Lord Jesus it was HOT. Like a blanket of heat and humidity I had never experienced. And I am from Texas! I did manage to do a big fake smile while Joe and played with Malaysian children and without moving my lips said to him "Damn it is hot. Joe who lives here?" He smiled just as fake back and said "You. It better be you” I shot him daggers back with my eyes. For the first time Joe looked evil to me. This was not the Joe I knew. Malaysia had changed him.

We both agreed it was hot. For those of you reading this that may have future plans to visit Malaysia…..Malaysia is hot. I was so thirsty but I didn‘t recognize any of the strange fruit stuff they were drinking and was more scared (maybe cautious) than thirsty. I was pretty sure they had no running water. I also noticed quite quickly that there were lots of mosquitoes. Malaysian Mosquitoes are big, aggressive, abundant and hungry. I was being sucked dry. Thank God my Mom made me get my Malaria shot. Joe and I both knew ONE of us lived here. But who? We were both wishing the worst for each other. The solidarity created from our hand holding was clearly gone! We were so willing to sell the other one out. Eventually we got the answer. We saw Joe's suitcases being pulled out from what appeared to be the trunk of the car.

Now I am not going to lie. I was thrilled. Ecstatic! Finally something went my way! I got all happy and I even drank a foreign juice beverage to celebrate. Listen, in Malaysia, clearly, it was dog eat dog. Survival of the fittest! I was dealing with heat, possible dehydration and a plague of insects so Joe’s torture was not my problem. I had to take care of myself. He would have done the same to me. I know it! Joe was dead weight now. Fate dictated that this was the end of the road for him.... but NOT for ME!. GOD there was still hope! I still had a chance..... Then I looked over at Joe and I saw it.... fear.... and what was either a tear or sweat. He was devastated. He knew this was it for him. He just stared at me. I stopped gloating (as much) and I let him know, with a genuine look, that I really did feel bad for him. I wanted to help him but what could I do? I did slap a mosquito off him; I felt like we were in a scene from the Deer Hunter or Platoon. We were both helpless and prisioners. What does one say at a time like this? The truth is I still had no idea what I was going off to face. I had no idea how far I would be from Joe. I could only hope that we would see each other sometime and I if I could I would try to send him help. He just stood there surrounded by a few old people and lots of sheep looking animals. I saw some people in the background going through his suitcase. I had to go. I untied my car door, slid in and lifted my canvas window to look at him one last time. He still stood there. I mouthed, very softly: "I’m so sorry Joe. I’m so sorry."

Malaysia Part 1 of 3 I am an American Ambassador

2010-01-16T14:37:00.004+01:00

Something different than my other writings......

In 1988 I decided wanted to be a foreign exchange student. I begged my parents. I made all kinds of crazy deals that I would get straight A’s (never happened) (not even close). I would pay them back (never happened) (Sorry Mom and Dad.) But eventually my persistence paid off and I was allowed to apply to be a Foreign Exchange Student. There were beautiful places out there with different people and maybe, somewhere out there, maybe...I would find me. I wanted to see the world. Maybe I would go and love wherever I was and never come back. Find a job and a group of friends and become an international sensation. My Foreign Exchange student plan was filled with exciting and endless possibilities.

I received the application for AFS, which stands for American Field Service. The application was a packet of questions I had to answer. My acceptance, my dreams and hopes all depended on this packet. I channeled all my creativity in my mind through my pen and on to those forms to make the “judges” (AFS application readers) adore me!

I am sure my parents wished I had cared this much about my homework just once. Well if my algebra homework had something like a trip to Milan, Sydney or London as a grade I would have studied my ass off.

Anyway, on these forms I painted myself out to be a smart, dedicated, adventurous, creative, open, and pretty much a perfect seventeen year old. I read each question and answer over and over and felt that my self descriptions were brilliant, maybe not true but brilliant.

Then I got to question #50: What three countries would you most like to visit? Now this was important. AFS supplies you with a list of countries that they send students to. Okay well, let’s see.

Japan is all over the news (this was the early eighties) (today I guess it would be China), they are all high tech and it is very foreign. I will look completely different there. I will stand out and feel special, right? Like a movie star! Then I can learn Japanese and become like a translator for the President or something if Japan becomes a Super Power. Or a Texas-Japanese Movie Star. Okay Japan is one!

My Dad was not so pleased about this. He has never admitted it but he was not over the Japanese and WWII. He just sort of avoids all things Japanese. We never ate Sushi once. And whenever any appliance breaks or gives my Dad trouble when he is fixing it and he gets angry you can hear him eventually curse that it was the God Damn Japanese and their cheap ass exports! So he just mumbled something and rolled his eyes when I mentioned Japan as my first choice.

Choice number two....Australia! Mainly because I loved the TV show Animal Kingdom and because according to the globe on my desk it is pretty damn far away. The way I see it is that if the fee for AFS is the same no matter where I go I might as well go as far away as possible! Although I won’t learn another language I will see Kangaroos and Koala Bears and be far far away. Definitely Australia.

Number three....well I imagined going to Europe most of all and here I had picked Japan and Australia on the other side of the world so I had better choose a European country. France! I love croissants and chocolate. They have good chocolate there right? I love chocolate. Plus I want to sound all snobby and speak French. France it is! Besides if they didn’t give me France maybe I would get Belgium or Switzerland or something. They have good chocolate too. Or England is close and maybe I will end up there. Maybe my host family will live in a castle. They will know all the royals of Europe and I will meet some royal person and become part of some royal family! I could become the first Mexican American Prince of England from Texas! (Sadly, I still fantasize about this. I blame it on Walt Disney.)

My forms were complete and I mailed off my masterpiece application and then waited. The next step in the application process was a home interview. My parents and I were to meet with a panel of AFS representatives, or, as I considered them, the panel of Judges. Somehow this process had turned into a mini Pageant for me. I need to be dazzling! This was my interview! What do I wear? What will my Dad wear? Should Mom wear a formal? Should we have appetizers, drinks, soft music? We need to clean. And I thought we needed to have rehearsals. My parents refused. I was a bit over the top but I needed this! My whole future as an international superstar or a Royal depended on it. These three Judges were coming to see if I would be a good representative of America! I even considered having all of us dress in red white and blue and making a centerpiece composed of small American (and of course Texan) flags with red and white carnations (how Texan right?) but my Mom put her foot down and said this was over the top. I was able to get my Dad to hang our giant American flag by the front door. I was so nervous when they arrived even though I came to find out that they didn’t fly in from New York or LA to interview me. I knew this because I recognized one of the ladies. She shopped at the same grocery store as us and was always double dipping in the free cheese samples. They had all either hosted a foreign student or been abroad themselves. I did not let the fact that they were "locals" deter me from wanting to dazzle them. I spent the next hour knocking their socks off. A few times I glanced at my parents. My Dad seemed nervous. I think he was trying too hard to remember the script I had given him and my Mom just looked at me perplexed, as if I were already a foreign exchange student in her house.

Two weeks later I got a letter saying I was accepted. They even offered me a three hundred dollar scholarship! God I am good. I went around telling people I was selected to go abroad to represent America and I was a Scholarship recipient! (Although later I found out they gave this to everyone as sort of a promotional rebate.) It ended up being the only scholarship I ever received in my life.

Now all I have to do I is wait to see where I am going. This is so exciting! Where will I become a royal? Where will I become a star? Where will I find my joy? Finally I got a package in the mail! This was it! My home. My future. My dreams are all in this package. My heart beat so fast as I walked with composure, (as a royal should do) to my bedroom to open the package. Then I ripped it open.

MALAYSIA

Malaysia? Malaysia!?! I think I blinked a few times and then re-read it. Malaysia. Malaysia. Uhm, what is Malaysia? I immediately ran to my desk to find the AFS information packet. Was a thing called Malaysia even on the list of countries? I scanned quickly down the list and right there between Luxembourg and Monaco was Malaysia. Malaysia. Malaysia. Where in the hell is Malaysia? I began spinning my globe over and over which was difficult to do because I had begun to tremble. I don’t see it! It has “sia” in it. Is it in Asia? I don’t see it!

“Dad” I said. I was certain my family was all huddled by the door to witness the opening of my life’s dream in an envelope. I turned around and no one was there. No one cared. I had to walk all the way to the garage to find him. I am sure he was caught off guard as I barged in shaking, teary eyed clutching my globe and my AFS papers.

“Dad, oh Dad there is a major problem... Where is Malaysia? Have you ever heard of Malaysia?”

I could barely keep it together even saying the word Malaysia. Tears were welling up and on the verge of uncontrollably flowing. (I wanted to say "It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go to Malaysia. That is not part of the dream.") but I just stood there sniffling as my Dad wiped his hands and tilted his head down spinning the globe, squinting over the tip of his glasses and saying:

“Malaysia…..Malaysia……I think…,ah here it is!”

He took a Phillips head screw driver out to carefully point to this little lavender colored blob in some part of the globe I had never even looked at.

“So you're going to Malaysia?” My Dad asked a bit cautiously but I swear I saw a small smirk on his face.

“THIS IS NO JOKE DAD!” I screamed as a I grabbed my globe and ran out of the garage.

I know he was not deriving humor from my suffering but at that time I was convinced the whole world was against me and this was all some cruel joke at my expense. Plus it has been said that I SOMETIMES over react and have often been accused of being a bit dramatic. THIS however was a crisis of major proportions!

I stared at tha little blob on the globe. Malaysia... Malaysia. I said it over and over. It sounds like a sickness. I bet they don’t even have a Royal Family there? What do they speak? I made it back to my room and slammed the door and plopped myself on my bean bag in shock. A few minutes later I decided to look through the rest of the package to see if I can ask to switch countries or something, which is when I came across some sort of picture of some sort of family. Who are these people? Oh no no no no this is not my FAMILY! Is it? No! Let me tell you they are a far FAR different version of the royal rich family that I thought I would have. Is this what Malaysians look like? How old is the picture? It is blurry. It looks ancient. Wait, are they Indian? Like Gandhi. They don’t look at all like Ben Kingsley. They look more like whatever that guy was from the movie Annie. Just not dressed as beautiful! Punjab was his name right? Wait he was from England, right? I would totally live with him in England! What the hell is going on? It says they live in Termerloh. Where is Termerloh (pronounced tear-ma-low)? Is that some sort of city? Is that where these people live? Where in the hell does one even get a map of Malaysia? (This was before the internet.) Are there even maps of Malaysia?

I examined that picture for an hour. My God there are so many of them. Is this one family? I tried to figure out if that animal in the picture with them was a dog or was it a goat? Are those turbans? They are wearing turbans. Wait!....are they wearing shoes? Sweet Jesus they don't wear shoes (not even to take a photo).... THIS is my host family?

I sat in my room, alone, depressed and scared. I could hear my parents discussing my news. I heard my Mom call our family doctor and ask what shots he recommended I get before I go to Malaysia. I felt dizzy. I checked one last desperate time on the list of AFS countries just...to...make...sure, yep there it is... Malaysia.

A few weeks later and after several fearful, tearful,(a sometimes screaming) tantrums of me declaring I AM NOT GOING..... I gave in to my fate. My parents stood their ground and said a commitment is a commitment. After several of my tantrums I remember sulking in my room saying they don’t care about me! They just want me gone! They will probably go on trips and redecorate my room. Even though I might die or be held hostage or catch a disease. My Dad knew I would be fine. As a boy he lived all over the world did. Oh and did I mention my trip to Malaysia was for only two months? WELL it seemed like a life time to me. (Again I over react sometimes.)

I got my shots, was packed and had fully accepted my fate. I had now taken on the role of a Martyr. I was an American sacrificial lamb going off to face the unknown. The night before my departure I sat down with my parents. I was strong but my parents, I feared, were not. I looked at them very seriously and said:

“Okay now I have never been away from you for this long. I know this will be difficult for you. I love you. I do not want to see you suffer or be sad. It is hard for me too so please all I ask is that when we say our goodbye tomorrow at the airport, you be strong and not cry. Please.”

I had rehearsed that speech for days. They said they would try to do their best and quickly went about their business. I sat at the empty table and it was clear to me how hard this was going to be for them.

The next day we pulled up at the airport (I was surprised we did not park which meant they were not getting out to wait at the terminal with me.) Maybe they did this because of my speech yesterday. They jumped out and got my two suitcases and said something like "Okay son..." which is when I broke down in tears (wailing at one point) and said a slew of things like "I don’t want to go to Malaysia! Please help me!" or "If I never make it back tell everyone I love them!" (None of it made sense I am sure.) They gave me hugs and kisses and said: ”Write us. We love you! Have fun! Learn! Bye”, and they drove off. I remember thinking that if I find out they went to Disneyland I would be pissed.

I turned around, took a deep breath, and entered the airport. I was off the Malaysia.
Part two on Monday or Tuesday (if interested) More Dutch still to come.

Update I am here...I think and had my interview

2010-01-13T14:06:00.004+01:00

The other day I was laying in bed having an argument with Oprah. She was on my mind cause she was in Denmark trying to learn why the Danish are the happiest people on earth. She and I were arguing about past things she has said and how they apply to me. I am not saying it was her fault but I just did not agree with some of the things she was saying to me. Maybe she is right? Maybe I should have better thread count sheets. Is she aware how rich she is and that I am not. We just kept going back and forth......

and then I saw myself.... I am lying in a bed in Holland having a delusional conversation with Oprah!

Am I losing it?

I also found myself in the kitchen singing Good Morning from Singing in the Rain with Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds and Donald O'Connor. You know it?

Good morning, good morning, there lot's to see and do, good morning, good morning to you and you and you and you and you.

Except I found myself singing it (over and over) like this

Goed morgen Goed morgen daar is lots to see and do, goed morgen, goed morgen to jou and jou and jou and jou and jou. (at one point I imagined singing in front of the Queen) I am sure my neighbors heard. I was belting it!

Am I losing it?

What is it? Is it the snow and being cooped up? I need a job

Well I got one! Yes they offered me a job. I am very excited. I will be an assistant (although I am sick of having jobs with the word ass in it) Event Coordinator for a really lovely LOVELY historic event location in the Hague. This is really good for me for many reasons. For one, it is close by so I will not have to drive in Holland! Another good thing is that I will have income! I am free. FREE! Free from the clutches on my Dutch Master Jur. I will have my own money to pay my bills and buy what I want when I want. I think Jur is a bit worried that I am going to shake things up! Well hold on to your clogs Jur cause things are gonna change. Waa Haaaa Haaaa Haaaa (scary evil laugh).

The job has another good personal plus for me. I was an Assistant Event Planner in LA before I came here. So being able to do the same thing (or close to it) here in Holland allows me to feel like I have not had to completely change who I am. For the last several months as I was cooped up I feared having to get a job sweeping floors or stocking grocery shelves or washing dishes. Not that those are bad jobs but being as how I have moved to a foreign land, how I miss seeing and talking to friends and family (long distance and time difference make it hard), also that I gave up jobs I loved, that I am always so freaking cold, that I have a Masters Degree and I have recently started having imaginary conversations with Oprah, I was concerned that I may not be emotionally ready to accept the position of a dish washer or a janitor.

The Dutch seem a bit shocked how I got the job. I got it fast. I had scoped this place out for a while. Then when I got my work visa I marched over and found the office to this gorgeous place that looked like it had fabulous parties. Their door was locked. So I walked around looking for another door. Nothing. So I started peaking through windows. I banged on a few and nothing. Then I found this big ancient bell and I started pulling on to make loud bongs. Finally someone came out the old wooden door and looked at me strangely.

I simply said "Hi, my naam is Ken. Ik sprekt niet zo goed Dutch. Do you sprekt English?"

He seemed scared but friendly (the Dutch are always friendly) "Yah" he said

"Well I want to work here. Do you need people to work here? I am good at throwing parties. Can we talk?"

Long story short I talked with him then came back to meet with the Regional Manager and now I start in a week and half! I guess the part that Jur, his family and friends say is "unusual" was ringing bells and banging on windows. But they all admitted getting a job this fast was rare. I was desperate! I was snowed in, becoming delusional, wanting money to buy fun things, singing made up Dutch American Musical songs. Also my increasing obsession on meeting Queen Beatrix was starting to even scare me. I needed to get out, work and meet some people. Plus I was NOT going to be a dish washer.

Oh speaking of the Queen..... I believe she has gone to events where I will be working. So it is possible to meet her. In reality this is not the meeting I want to have with her so I am not too excited about this, however this could allow me the opportunity to slip her my card with my name and this blog address on it. I am not nervous or intimidated by Queen Beatrix. Please. I worked at events where I had to watch over the needs of numerous celebrities (aka American Royalty) like Charlotte Rae (from Facts of life) (now she made me nervous). Queen Beatrix just seems so cool and I have never met a Royal before. I guess I am hoping for more than just her passing by me or me offering her a cheese puff. One can always hope.

So this job has yanked me back into the world of the sane. I think I will be okay. For now.

I Survived!

2010-01-10T12:39:00.002+01:00

The Holidays, Holland, John "the British are coming" Moore, snow, and winter had knocked me out for a while. Also too much socializing, drinking and eating. Oh the eating! All my favorites back in LA (Fatburger, In and Out Burger) then the BBQ and the Tex Mex in San Antonio (Aye)(lots!)Then of course all the mayonnaise, french fries and "food" back here in Holland! And, of course, for a finale to the Holidays, having John "the Vodka swigging Englishman" turning our home into his personal Fish and Chip Pub Shop. Alcohol and fried food. Lovely. I actually slipped on our kitchen for a moment from his french fry grease!

God challenged the beginning of my New Year with a snow storm. Ironically not here in Holland but in England. How is this a challenge you ask? Well the huge storm came while John was visiting. Extending his already lengthy visit by THREE days! Actually I did better with John this time. I did not hit him with a frying pan. I learned a lot about how to entertain him and the English. I ran to the store often for Vodka. I made sure he always had the remote control and that he was aware we had four BBC channels. Booze and BBC keeps the English happy. I could still hear him commenting or laughing (with his Dudley Moore from Arthur loud laugh) at all hours of the night but my "visualizing the lotus" meditation came in handy at these times.

Actually I saw that THIS trip was taken it's toll on John too. He always looks tired and haggered after a few days here I have thought but this time his body started to give out. We sat in the living room watching BBC. John with his eighth Vodka (with 7-Up NOT Sprite and a splash of Orange Juice) (The British are very proper with their booze), I with my hot tea, when suddenly John stood up (as best he could) and announced slurringly that he was going to the Winkel (Dutch corner store) for some Cigarettes and Chocolate. I knew better then to even try and stop him. Of course he stumbles out without a coat and its freezing outside and it is also snowing. The side walk was covered in snow and ice. I just let him go and visualized the Lotus as I heard the door slam shut.

Now the winkel is just around the corner and after five minutes passed I started to worry. (My Lotus was wilting.) Eventually I went to the front door out of concern and when I opened it there was John. Shivering and freezing, palish purple and looking VERY serious while holding on to two chocolate bars and a pack of some European Cigarettes.

"John get in here! What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped at him

John looked at me and said with a lisp and a British accent "I lost a front tooth" Then he grinned real big to prove it and there it was a giant hole where his front tooth used to be.

Now I am not sure exactly what happened but....

I think John wandered from the winkel and got a little lost, forgot his lighter so he couldn't smoke and so he decided to bite into his chocolate bar which was now frozen from the cold.

He claims he slipped and fell on the ice (he told me to say that when I was to write about this.)

Later he changed it to "Ken slammed the door in my face when he(Ken) forced me(John) to go out and get him(Ken) chocolate". Oh...okay.

Jur had no statement about what he thought occurred but didn't mind asking if he could eat John's tooth chipping chocolate bar which I think John thought was very insensitive (I ate some too just not in front of John)

However the tooth loss incident happened John's losing a tooth was enough for him to stop drinking and announce "blizzard or no blizzard I need to get back to Mother England." We spent the rest of the night watching BBC. John covering his mouth. I was allowed to make five jokes about the stereotypes of the quality of English teeth.(Five is not enough.) I even went outside and tried to find his tooth in the snow. I wanted to make a necklace out of it. John laughed at this but covered up his smile with his hands. I wanted to take a photo for you but that was NOT going to happen. At one point I got up and excused myself and went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, flossed and then gargled just out of appreciation for not being John at this moment.

The next morning I got up to make us coffee and asked John if he would like some. He said "Yesth"

Now he likes lots of cream and about five spoonfuls of sugar. I asked "The usual way?"

"Yesth pleasth" he replied

I simply said (with a smirk) as I whisked away to the kitchen "Sugar is bad for the teeth"

He was so ready to leave. As he left the house I said I was sorry about how things ended and I know he will probably never come back, I know he must be exhausted and sick of us to which he replied "rubbishth, never, oh I'll be back! I loveth it here. Thee you thoon"

So the food, travels, no exercise, booze of all of December and first part of January have left me feeling fat and tired. Jur feels the same. I think. We have had a few "discussions" about how I am not washing our clothes correctly. Apparently I am shrinking Jur's clothes. Okay,that is it, I admit it, I am shrinking Jur's clothes. Enough said.

So now that I am rested I can write and work on my New Years resolutions! Get healthy, write, work more and travel. I have decided to announce to you that I will be adding some stories of my past "Incarnations" on this site (or a link to it) I hope this is okay and you will check them out. Just once a week or so. Stories about New York, Los Angeles, Malaysia, Spain, Texas (of course), my years as Manny Kenbo, the Amish Country, the lengths I have gone to for my devotion to chocolate and perhaps a few private personal "adventures" (someday)(I am still working through these in therapy.)

I will also join a gym AND I applied for a job. Me, a JOB in HOLLAND! This should be fun. I have an interview on Tuesday. I will keep you posted. HINT: It is somewhere that Queen Beatrix has been (or goes) so hopefully I can meet her there and arrange tea time together! I WILL meet her! Jur advised me not to mention any of my Queen Beatrix obsession during my interview. I will try not to.

One final thing, it is snowing here. It has snowed a lot. Not like blizzards or anything just an on again off again light snow for the last couple of weeks. I DISTINCTLY recall Jur and his family saying it does not snow that often in Holland when I was considering my move here. Well it DOES! Jur and his family say this is rare...how lovely and special. I cut my forehead on the snow. Don't ask but I did. Dutch snow is dangerous.

My 3 Days of Dutch Christmas-I had a good time. I did! REALLY! I DID!

2009-12-29T15:07:00.014+01:00

It is late. 2:30 am. Jur is asleep. The third day of my first Dutch Christmas is done. I had a wonderful time. I did. Despite the way this may read at times. I had a wonderful time. (My New years resolution will be to write only joyous things from now on about Holland!) For now, however, I am kind of relieved my first Dutch Christmas is over. I am having many difficulties tonight. Maybe it was too much Hollandse Garnalen, or to much Sjoelen, or Knuidnoten. I would translate these words for you but I am so tired and at the moment describing them might make me a bit nauseous. Plus it gives you all another opportunity to step closer into my Dutch world experience, right?

Part of why I can't sleep is that on the third night of Dutch Christmas dinner (tonight) between the second and third course and during one of the many rounds of Neuken (which I think also means something dirty) I hit a Dutch Christmas mental wall. I needed coffee and I started to uncontrollably drink it. Switching between wine and coffee is not a good thing. Can you get drunk and wired off coffee and wine at the same time? I never fully felt the coffee "perk" I wanted, which was, at that time, my new Christmas wish.

Well I may not have thought the coffee was working but when I got home tonight I went straight to bed and I could not for the life of me sleep. It was definitely the coffee. I tried so hard to fall asleep. Sleep was now my new Christmas wish. Please let me sleep Santa or baby Jesus. Please! That was when the Garnalen Stomach rumbles started. It was embarrassing. I laid there wide awake making these loud LOUD gurgle rumble combinations. They sounded like one of those aborigine blow pipe instruments. I was sure they would wake Jur up.

At one point I nudged him awake and said "Jur what are those little gray shrimp things we ate called?" (btw we ate them at Dieneke's on Friday, then again on Saturday and then tonight at Frits and Edward's)

Jur slurred "You mean Hollandse Garnalen....?"

I couldn't fully understand him because he was half asleep and when he said it I had an enormous rumble but I tried to repeat what I heard him say "Well I think I have Holse Garnail poisoning...I am worried"

He said nothing and I then let out my longest rumble yet. I got up to get some milk but when I opened the refrigerator I saw a large tupperware container of creamed garnalen given to us by Sjan. The sight of that combined with the strong stench of Jur's French cheese only made me feel worse!

Hollandse Garnalen are these little itsy bitsy grayish colored (sometimes) shrimp. The Dutch love them. THEY LOVE THEM. I have seen them at every major gathering I have been to since I have arrived here in Holland. I am just not the biggest fan. I can eat them but I would prefer not to. I prefer an occasional jumbo shrimp but not a big bowl of tiny shrimp which most often are covered in some sort of heavy cream and which always seem to upset my stomach. When I look at the bowls of shrimp it just looks like chum. Something I have seen being thrown over a fishing boat to attract "edible" fish. Or they look like something you would see in a vending machine at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere Arizona or something being thrown to the penguins at the Sea World exhibit. I had a lot of time to think about Hollandse Garnalen as you see. This past holiday weekend these shrimpy shrimps were first served at Dieneke's Christmas Eve dinner. I took one piece of bread with the Garnalen and some curried mayonnaise to be polite and smiled as I chewed it (as fast as I could). I still had the cognac, mayonnaise crab appetizer to go, which Jur made so I HAD to eat that, and, then, of course there was salmon for the main course. Did I mention I don't really like sea food?

Back home everyone was having ham, turkey, tamales, Mexican, BBQ, cookies... You were, right? Don't lie! I read all your facebook postings! Did you ever think how painful it was for me to read about your delicious tamale meal or lovely beef Wellington, huh, did ya?

After this tricky meal I was introduced to sjoelen. A Dutch wooden sort of table shuffle board game, but you do not knock people off. You are just going for points. It is loud! LOUD! You shoot these wooden discs down this board. I liked this game though. It was fun and sjoelen signified the end of the seafoodfest meal. I never understood the points system of the game and since in Dutch something like 128 is Een honderd acht en twintig (or something like that) and I was surrounded by eight Dutch people yelling out all kinds of numbers I just kept shooting my discs down this board and playing my own version of the game. I came in last every time. They kept pointing at places where I should try and shoot but it was hard and I had once again been comfort drinking. Also after two rounds of shooting these discs down this board my tennis elbow started kicking in. I think we must have played 25-30 rounds of this. At one point I was sweating from all the excitement. This was almost as physical as rushing to gather the kruidnoten that were thrown in the window on Sinterklaas Day.

The evening was fun tand my first Christmas day at Dieneke's was an enjoyable experience! Danku Dieneke, Wilfred and Angelique. It was very joyous! Oh and Dieneke's Christmas tree was beautiful! Heck she had more decorations then the ladies in Steel Magnolias!

The next morning I woke at Jur's sister Cathy's home. I was sore but rejuvenated. I came down the stairs and there were her three boys with.... the sjoelen board and the bang Bang BANG of those little wooden discs. My Christmas wish was for a cup of coffee and some ear plugs. I did get some coffee. After two hours of more sjoelen (lost every time again), the realization I had a slight hangover and a growing pain in my elbow, I was ready to move on from sjoelen. Jur's sister suggested to go to the beach and walk the dog. I took this as an opportunity to escape the sjoelen board. As I was dressing there were some concerns that it seemed very cold outside to go to the beach but hearing those wooden discs slamming downstairs caused me to ignore my concerns. Cathy, Jur and I, plus Gabor, the dog, loaded in the car. I was busily putting on my hat, scarf, gloves, adjusting my sweater and buttoning my coat when I noticed it was beginning to drizzle and get dark outside. No one else seemed to notice. I thought I heard Gabor moan in disappointment but wasn't sure. I just kept thinking it is cold and raining and we are going to the beach. Who the hell goes to the beach in weather like this? We will be the only ones there! Wrong again Ken! The Dutch go to the beach in weather like this.

It was pretty crowded. What the hell is wrong with these people? I was shocked. We poured out of the car. Gabor's moan was apparently not one of disappointment because he darted out of the car and headed straight for the ocean.

I did yell to Cathy over the howling wind (Who now looked like some Dutch Pioneer Woman) that "BOY IT IS COLD!"

To which she yelled back "NEE IT IS ONLY 3 DEGREES!"

Now 3 degrees in Celsius is like 38 in American and I am from Texas AND moved here form Los Angeles for God's sakes, so hearing it was 3 degrees SERIOUSLY made things worse! SERIOUSLY WOSRE. We trekked on. Cathy, Jur and Gabor kept getting further and further ahead of me. I was the weakling of our herd. My lips were hurting, my nose was running. I was certain it was sleeting or there were chunks of frozen sand pelting me or something. Something was painfully stinging me all over. My imagination got the best of me as reenactments of the Donner Party crept in my head. You know the Donner Party? Those Pioneers that got stuck in a blizzard crossing the Sierra Nevadas and ate each other in the 1880's? This was my own Donner Party. There was also the constant awareness that the wind, sleet, rain and frozen sand ice was to my back, which means when we turned around it was going to be head on. In fact I was so cold that I was actually wishing I was some where warm playing sjoelen. After a half hour of this march the rest of my expedition team noticed I was staggering and decided to turn around. By this point my new Christmas wish was to just make it back to the car. The good news was that I was so cold and numb that my tennis elbow did not hurt anymore.

Side note for those who know me and my nervous right eye twitch problem, well, as I defrosted in the car my right eye AND my left eye both were twitching. That has not happened for years and is not a good sign.

I vow to never go to the beach in the winter again. (Maybe my New Years resolution)

That night Jur and I met up with the Dutch Spanish friends, Manon and Rudy at Club Amsterdam. I don't remember too much of this except I was so tired, it was pretty, it was crowded (the Dutch party), we were the oldest ones there, they played Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas" and I kept thinking I still had the third day of Dutch Christmas to go!

Day three was meeting for bowling with Cathy and the boys which brought back my tennis elbow. I at least understood the scoring system of this game. I love to bowl and bowling with Cathy and her sons was especially fun!

Now I just had dinner at Jur's brother Frits' house. Sounds simple right? Well the first thing I noticed in the kitchen was ramekins piled high with creamed Hollandse garnalen. This was something I was just going to have to deal with. Unlike previous parties where the garnalen were set out along with many other things, at THIS dinner it was served as an individual course. The moment came when it was served. No one knew of my garnalen struggles. Well, Jur did, but I think he was just beginning to feel the effects of three days of Dutch Christmas. I looked to him for support as the bowl of mayonnaise Sea World Shrimp Chum was placed in front of me but he looked so tired and his eyes were blood shot. I was on my own. I told myself to just get it over with and I grabbed my spoon. I took the first bite and instinctively clogged my nose. It wasn't that bad actually. Only about 10 more spoonfuls to go. Then the second was a bit harder and by the third..... for the first time in Holland.....I almost (ALMOST) gagged out loud. I contained it. If anyone had been looking directly at me I would have looked like my nieces having to eat the dreaded Brussels sprouts or creamed spinach before they could have dessert. My cheeks puffed up and I was all red faced and teary eyed. I felt like one of those contestants on a reality show being forced to eat some crazy concoction. Thank God no one heard me. I ate another two spoonfuls but had to stop or they would have heard me (and worse seen me). I will say the soup, the Pork Loin and citrus dessert were delicious! Edward is a good cook! Danku Edward.

After dinner we then played the new card game Neuken but by that time I was done. I was done! I was sore, tired, worried about garnalen poisoning, my elbow was throbbing, I was drunk and wired on the coffee. I was yawning yet wide awake. Both eyes were twitching (slightly, even my eye twitch was tired) I don't even know what my Christmas wish was anymore. Nothing could help me......and that is how I ended up here, now, in the middle of the night, with a rumbling tummy, writing to you about my first adventurous Dutch Christmas. The Dutch like to have a good time and can party!

The Dutch / American Santa Kiss Cookie WAR.

2009-12-24T14:55:00.005+01:00

This is a Santa Kiss Cookie. A simple, delicious American Santa Kiss Cookie. Do you know it? It is a peanut butter cookie with a Hershey Kiss in the center. My Sister Kristy in Texas loves them and now for the past few years my Mom and I make them and we give them out to my Mom's friends and neighbors when I fly home for Christmas. We, of course, were going to do it again this year. However, unlike my sister, we decided to not make the peanut butter dough from scratch. We just did not have the time.

My Mom and I made about five dozen of our "short cut" version of the Santa Kiss cookies. (Plus a few other kinds of cookies) We wrapped them on Christmas plates for delivery and then my Mom asked if I would want to take some back to Holland? (I had already thought of this) Of course I wanted to! I would have some for myself and to share with Jur.

Then the little voices in my head started a conversation that went as follows:

"Would Jur like these?"

"Of course he will. He likes peanut butter and chocolate and cookies, He'll like them"

"Yeah but he likes fresh cookies, the Dutch like fresh things and you know how picky the Dutch are"

"Yeah but you can put them in a Tin AND you leave tomorrow"

"I don't know..... you have a lot to bring back already"

"But you can put them in your carry on"

"Yeah but you already have a suitcase full of tamales, grape jelly, ranch dressing, 6 bags of chocolate chips, fajita seasoning, tortillas, cornbread mix, biscuit mix, 10 boxes of Mike Ike's. Plus your two tacos and your brisket sandwich and all the christmas presents, oh and the box of brownie mix."

"ENOUGH! These cookies are delicious. Everyone here loves them. The Dutch will love them too. We make them only once a year... for Santa! Jur will love them! I am taking them"

Okay, see, I love to cook. I love food! I am passionate about food and cooking. I have cooked (and ate) for years. I am not perfect at it by far but I really try and I have traveled all over the world and I find all food amazing. Which explains my obsession with my weight! I have lost all over 500 pounds in my life I am sure. Anyway moving here to Holland has been hard on my cooking. The Dutch just have a completely different type of food palate and it is not like there were a bunch of Dutch restaurants in America that I grew up eating at. (I think I know why.) Now I am not going to blame the Dutch (entirely) but I have heard all kinds of frustrating things from Dutch people when it comes to cooking for them like:

"I don't eat breakfast" - And they just don't! A lot of them. Well there goes a third of the day and delicious things like breakfast tacos, pancakes, monkey bread, waffles, IHOP, omeletes, biscuits and gravy, cinnamon rolls etc..... OUT!

"I don't eat beans" - No comment here EXCEPT to say that I am a half Mexican from Texas! NO BEANS! What the f#*!#K! What's left? Don't even get me started on the time I was "encouraged" by many of Jur's Dutch family to make a bean-less chili and then watched in horror as they added chunks of pineapple to it!

"I don't eat sweets" - except of course they eat Apple tart and olliebollen (aka a DOUGHNUT with LOTS of powdered sugar (pictured)) or Stroopwafels, Nutella, and of course the famous Hagelslag (aka chocolate sprinkles) (which they eat almost daily!)

Also I am constantly discovering things like around Thanksgiving it became VERY clear to me that Pumpkin was not a favorite of the Dutch! ugh! I carved 8 pumpkins just to make two pies (They have no canned pumpkin here!) and ended up eating Dutch rejected pumpkin pie for three weeks.

I also have to deal with things like Jur not eating pork because they are smart and close to humans or something! (so no cooking with bacon, sausage or ham which NOW seems to be all I crave!)

Plus there is the fact that I am a foreigner. I GET IT. I know. I am not in America anymore. I just get sad when I cook and serve something and I get looks like I have just brought out the head of a Zebra on a platter! Cooking in Holland has given me paranoia. They hate my cooking. I think. I don't know. They're lying to me when they say they like my food. They all called each other to warn each other what I have cooked. They all told their children in the car over that no matter what that crazy American cooks just eat it. My right eye twitches now whenever I even think of cooking for a Dutch person.

Somehow in Holland I have become that person or relative that brings over the dreaded annual fruit cake!

I tried to talk with Americans back home about this on my visit but they don't get it or they just laughed. My Mom tried to help me when she saw how upset I got thinking about what to cook for Christmas Eve at Jur's sister's house. I was to bring an appetizer. Mom suggested 7 layer dip.

"My God Mother! Are you kidding? The uproar that would cause! and The BEANS Mother! No Beans! Don't you listen to me?! And where in the hell do you think I am I going to get corn tortilla chips? I can't pack bags of Tostitos!" My eye had a big spasm at the thought of the Dutch and Seven Layer Dip.

I actually decided to not make anything for the dinner and explained in a e-mail that Jur would bring something on our behalf because I was too tired from my recent trip.

When I arrived back in Holland with my tin of Cookies and all my American groceries after a fourteen hour journey I was exhausted. United Airlines Economy Class had squished the Christmas Spirit right out of me. I had grown to hate everyone on the plane (in visible distance). From the lady who went to the bathroom eight times to the girl sitting two seats up and across the aisle, in seat 34B, that dropped a skittle. I hated that skittle. I had become obsessed with that skittle! I contemplated that skittle for hours. She KNEW she dropped it and she just didn't care. She didn't even bother in the slightest to look for it! She just left it there. I wanted to get up and throw it at her! I needed to get off that plane and I needed to be home.

Jur was at the airport to greet me. I was happy. It had snowed in Holland. It was lovely. When I got home I was greeted by my cats. I, again, was happy. I was feeling good and had become excited about showing all my goodies from America with Jur. I was proud that I made it home with all that I did! I felt as though I was kneeling before the King of Holland to present my treasures from the New World. I gave Jur all the wrapped gifts first (to be opened Christmas morning). The King was pleased....then he noticed my Velveeta.......

"You brought velveeta?" he said it with what my Dutch cooking paranoia instantly took as condescendingly.

My eyes met his like daggers "Yes I brought Velveeta and I am going to make Queso for New Year's Eve and if you don't like don't eat it. It will be me, my queso, and champagne ALONE and I have no problem with THAT!" Apparently jet-lag, the anger of the skittle girl and months of constant worry about what the Dutch think of my food exploded out of my mouth in response to Jur's judgmental Velveeta "question". He backed off and we moved on. Then he picked up my Welch's grape jelly bottle from the suitcase and I snatched it from his hands and just looked at him. He wisely said nothing.....and then.... the cookie tin.....he opened it, looked at it and what I perceived (still being debated) as nonchalantly said "oh" and put it aside. That was the straw that broke the cookie Camels back!

"You got a problem with my Santa Kisses?"

"What?" he said

"My Santa Kiss cookies. The cookies. My Mom and I made them for YOU. I brought them from America for you. What? You don't like 'em?"

"Oh. No they look good, thanks."

I just looked at him as he fiddled with the bow on one of the many wrapped gifts he had just received......"Well eat one."

"What?"

"Eat.... one"

"No, I am not hungry right now. I just had coffee. I will later"

I could feel a tremor forming in my right eye. God I have only been back in Holland for two hours and already the damn Dutch eye cooking twitch was kicking in! "Uh huh, okay....we'll see" I said hesitantly clasping my jelly. I grabbed a can of jalapenos and Jiffy corn bread mix out of my suitcase and slowly made my way to the kitchen. Then all kinds of angry voices started up in my head "He doesn't want your cookies." "He didn't even try them but he doesn't like them!" "You better MAKE him eat those cookies." "They are trying to destroy you and your cooking." "Defend American Cookies Ken" "The Dutch are American Cookie Haters"..... eventually I calmed down and decided to wait and see. Just wait and see. Time will tell.

That night, when Jur came home from work, I was aggressively looking for American Christmas music on iTunes radio. The fear of not hearing American Christmas music on Christmas (c'mon cut me some slack it is my first Christmas away from the States) had caused me to forget all about the whole Jur and Santa Kiss Cookie stand off. We greeted each other just like any other night. All was good. He fed the cats and changed whilst I listened to various renditions of a Little Drummer Boy. Then he sat down and ate a piece of bread with peanut butter. Then he had some chocolate covered peanuts and THEN he turned to me and said "what else should I eat?"

Now before I go any further, in Jur's defense, I just want to say that I seriously believe this was an innocent question (although this too is still being debated). To me, however, at the time, this question was the bullet that began what I now refer to as the Dutch American Santa Kiss Cookie War.

"Well there's a WHOLE tin of cookies just waitin' for ya in the kitchen!" All the Dutch cooking anger came back to me as I clicked off the jingles bells playing on my iTunes. My twitch started suddenly and terrifyingly in full force and I started speaking with a Texas twang which seems to happen when I start gettin' riled up.

"I will," he slightly snapped back

Silence as I looked at him ....and he sat there ...... four seconds later I snapped louder back "WHEN?"

"You can't force me to eat a Santa Claus Kissing Cookie Ken!"

"It's called Santa Kiss cookie and I knew you didn't like my cookies! They are perfectly delicious cookies!"

"I just don't feel like eating something like that at this time of night."

"Oh ...okay...I see but you don't mind eating bread with peanut butter and chocolate sprinkles or a handful of chocolate covered peanuts. Do ya? Huh? Yeah, right, huh? Oh okay well that makes sense! You NEVER like my food (I know that is not true but I was upset at the time) GAWD I have given up BEANS for you!, BREAKFAST and PORK! BACON. I gave up BACON for you and you can't even eat one damn cookie of mine? My Momma's cookies (I resorted to guilt)"

"FINE" he yelled as he stood up and cursed something stupid in Dutch. (which I didn't understand because I am only on week six of my Dutch class but I will one day!) " FINE Ken I will go eat the whole tin right now" and stormed off to the kitchen

I chased after him "DON'T YOU TOUCH MY SANTA KISS COOKIES! You don't want 'em then don't eat 'em! You don't deserve them!"

We struggled for the tin until I finally let go of the tin (Jur is taller and stronger than me) and I said "This is ridiculous! I'm going to bed!"

The next morning I woke up and there was the empty tin on the kitchen counter. I was a little annoyed he didn't even save me one! I also considered checkin all the trash cans just to be sure but I was not going to stoop to that level. As he slept I proceeded to make myself the biggest breakfast I could. Eggs, toast and hash browns with salsa. Making sure to drop a loud pot or two. I also added bacon to the grocery list.

I, of course, made us both coffee. He came in the kitchen. I poured him a cup of coffee.

He said "I liked the cookies. Did you notice?"

I said "Oh, yes.... thanks..... would you like some of my big breakfast?"

He said "No....... Thank you though."

As we sat there in peace it took all the strength I had to not ask him what we should plan to eat for Christmas morning breakfast. A special Christmas morning breakfast is a tradition.

I'll ask him tomorrow.

Merry Christmas Ya'll. Vrolijk Kerstfeest Ya'll

In the Red Corner Sinter Klaas and in the other Red Corner Santa Claus

2009-12-09T12:19:00.002+01:00

Well I don't know. After years of worshipping, behaving for and trying to fearfully catch a glimpse of Santa and his Reindeer the Dutch just expect me to get all excited about Sinterklaas! Santa Claus has been good to me! He has brought me gifts for my whole life! I have photos to prove it. He loves my cookies. He employs millions of Elves according to the movie The Polar Express. He loves animals especially if they are different or have flare like Rudolph! PLUS...I was always told and very much believe that Santa Claus is an equal opportunity Christmas Holiday gift giver. I KNOW he comes to Holland and gives gifts. I never recall Sinterklaas coming to my house in the States to do his business. What? Does Sinterklaas have issues with Americans, huh, huh?

Okay don't get me wrong. I am very willing to adopt, welcome, and enthusiastically celebrate Sinterklaas. I believe in all Holidays. I support them. Life should be one big celebration! The more the merrier I say! Anything that involves me getting gifts (oh and giving) is good with me! Santa Claus, Sinterklaas, Spain's Caga Tio, Germanys Lucky Pickle, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Posadas you name it. Just give me a date, the day off, have a party and some food and I love it!

This was my first Sinterklaas. I had no idea what to expect. I found myself learning about this very Dutch tradition. There were a few debates or "educational" conversations about Sinter Klaas versus Santa Claus. Often these occurred will sipping coffee and eating Kruidnoten. Kruidnoten are everywhere during Sinterklaas time. They are little pellet size ginger cookies. The Dutch eat them by the handful. They are on office counters in bowls. People would hand them to you as gifts. It was always nice and surprising to receive a handful of ginger pellets from a stranger in black face on the street. They were all over the streets. Pigeons love them. Kruidnoten are just not the prettiest things in the world and I am not the biggest fan of ginger cookies. Although later I discovered a few things.They sell them chocolate covered (milk, white and dark) and I firmly believe that if you cover it in chocolate I will like it! I now love chocolate covered Kruidnoten. Also I realized that these NON-chocolate Kruidnoten resemble a child cereal I used to love called Cookie Crisps. So I have started eating Kruidnoten bowls of cereal. I do this in private. I know the Dutch will not approve. The last few mornings I get up and throw a handful out to the pigeons and then pour some milk over mine and we all enjoy the Kruidnoten!

Anyway Santa Claus and Sinterklaas are very similar in many ways yet oh so different. They are alike in that they both wear red and white, have beards, bring gifts, have helpers. Sinter Klaas tends to be a bit more "religious" than Santa. He is an Arch-Bishop after all. He comes from Turkey but seems to have close ties with Spain (I am not sure why) and his helpers are, well, not Elves. They seem happy but I am worried about them. I tried to ask them if they were happy (and free) but they were to busy wreaking havoc all over Holland to stop and talk! One just gave me a handful of Kruidnoten when I tried to offer him shelter from his oppressor!

Sinterklaas Daag is the 6th and until then it is all and only about Sinterklaas. Sinterklaas has so much power here in Holland that you are technically not allowed to celebrate Christmas until after Sinterklaas. I know this because the American came out in me on December 1st when my NEED for a Christmas tree caused me to annoyingly harass Jur until he agreed to get one. I saw a Christmas tree seller as I passed by on my bike on the way to my Dutch Class. I almost biked right in to a ditch I was so excited. We went on the third for our tree, this sweet little Dutch man greeted us. I watched as Jur and he talked "tree" in Dutch. There was a problem. I could tell. Oh, hell no! I am getting my tree! We were allowed to "look" at the trees.

I whispered to Jur "What's wrong?"

Jur replied while looking at the top of a tree and trying not to move his lips "nothing" he shook the tree (I think he did this to cover our conversation) "we are not supposed to buy a tree until after Sinterklaas" then he quickly moved on.

I followed him through the mud. It was raining of course. We met up again in the next row and I whispered as I looked down to the ground "We can't have a tree?" I was about to get upset.

"Shhh" Jur said "it's fine, he is going to sneak us one out the back of that tent over there but we can't tell anyone where we got it, now go! Go to your own row of trees and we will figure out a way to choose one, Go!"

I ran off in the rain and mud. It was all very Euro World War two-ish and filled with feelings of espionage. I was paranoid as we drove through Den Haag with the tree on top of our car that the Politie (Police) might stop as and interrogate us about our tree. Also if we put lights on it and it is by the window will are neighbors turn us in? Ugh Christmas Trees in Holland pre December 6th are stressful.

I get why the Dutch keep Christmas separate from Sinterklaas. The Dutch love Sinterklaas and they want to protect him from being over taken by Christmas. This is does seem to be slowly happening and I could easily be taken as a threat to Sinterklaas with all my Pro Santa Claus propaganda. Especially when I find my self biking through town unaware that I'm singing "Here comes Santa Claus Here comes Santa Claus right down Santa Claus lane". (I need to stop doing that). So I decided to fully celebrate Sinterklaas Dag! On the 5th I went to Jur's Sister house for dinner with the entire family. It was lovely. Food, wine. Then at one point as we all mingled there was a LOUD bang bang bang and then a door flew open and a large bucket of Kruidnoten came flying in the air all over us and to the floor! A kruidnoot came within inches of poking me in the eye. People screamed "Zwarte Pietje, Zwarte Pietje!" Those devilish trouble making (of course black face) Zwarte Pietjes. They are causing trouble all over the place. It was kind of a shocking and awkward moment, I thought, as I found myself rushing with others to gather as many Kruidnoten as I could. I got caught up in Kruidnoten rush. It is instinct for me to fight for sweets when they are thrown in the air.

After we all calmed down from the attempted vandalizing from the Zwarte Pietje and after dinner it was time for Sinterklaas Gifts. Now this was by far the most difficult part. Everyone bought little gifts or I should say Sinterklaas bought everyone little gifts! Just like in the States I thought...but oh no. Little did I know that I was embarking on a two or three hour event. One by one, one gift at a time, a gift would be opened. The first gift was opened and we would sit around the table and pass the gift around and everyone commented on it and then after that the recipient of the gift would get up and get the next gift for another person. They too would open it, pass it along...998 Dutch gifts on the wall, 998 Dutch gifts on the Wall, 998 Gifts, you take one down pass it around 997 Dutch gifts on the Wall! I mean HONESTLY there were ten of us! That is at least 3 gifts each and some got more! It was exhausting. By round two I was running out of enthusiasm. Maarten (my Dutch Nephew) got a packet of gum. We passed the packet of gum around and discussed it. It is gum for god sakes! I just kept drinking more and more wine. By round three of the gifts my back was hurting from sitting so long and from all the shoving I did earlier with the Dutch over the kruidnoten that was thrown throw the door. I was trying hard not to make any anti Sinterklaas gift giving slurs. Round five Segher (youngest Dutch Nephew) got a razor! "Oh hurry hurry pass that over here. I wanna see" I mockingly mumbled in my corner of the table as I reached for more wine. Round six Wibrand got socks. Round seven Angelique got a calendar. In round eleven I got a bird feeder (which I love) AND which explained why in round eight I got bird seed that I embarrassingly passed around. Round fourteen I got bird peanuts (see pictue above) which, for a moment,I was hoping were edible because I was becoming hungry again. I, of course, passed them around. It was a long long process.

Finally the last gift was for me. It is called a Dutch Surprise! I received a foiled up long heavy roll that looked like a giant burrito. It was a gift made by Dieneke, Jur and Cathy's family friend. She and her husband and daughter joined us for the evening, which I loved, but I must admit at one point I calculated that their presence added one about an hour and sixteen minutes to the gift giving marathon. Dieneke brought me a Dutch Sinterklaas traditional gift. I slowly started to unroll it and it was a large tortilla shaped piece of leather covered in peanut butter, syrup, cooked noodles, chopped up sausage, I think ketchup and they all yelled "Surprise". I sat there speechless, stuff dripping from my hands and said "what is this, thank you I mean Danku..I don't get it. Wow what a surprise! Jur I don't get it." Well apparently hidden amongst the goop is a trinket. I found it after I dug around a while. I asked if I was supposed to pass it around but NO not that! No one wanted to touch that!

That concluded my first Sinterklaas Dag. It was so late that Jur and I decided to spend the night. I eventually excused myself and said I was tired (too much wine actually) and needed to go to bed. I went up stairs and tried to wash my hands but I could not get that greasy sticky surprise off. I got undressed and three kruidnoten fell out of my clothes. My back was still sore. I laid down and I could hear all the Dutch Sinterklaas celebration still going on. I silently sang myself to sleep.... "Here comes Santa Claus. Here comes Santa Claus right down Santa Claus lane".

The First DutchThanksgiving was...an experience.

2009-12-03T00:56:00.008+01:00

I spent weeks preparing for my First Dutch Thanksgiving Feast. My Mom sent me pecans from Texas. Rob sent me corn syrup from Los Angeles. My sister Kristy sent me plastic maple leaves for the table and place cards with Turkey stickers. I saved toilet paper rolls to cover in corn for napkin rings. I searched for a month through every Dutch store for Thanksgiving products and then bought them over a few weeks time (we don't drive and I am NOT carrying large bags of groceries on my bike!) I carved, cleaned, steamed, pureed and jarred 10 pumpkins to make pumpkin pie and soup. I pre-made my pie shells since I could not seem to find them at any store. We special ordered the turkey. Now I was ready....

Or so I thought. I realized the night before, as I was covered in flour from rolling out the pie crust, that this all was going to a bit harder than I had thought. The phone rang and it was my Dutch Sister in law Cathy asking how it was going? I had decided a week before that no matter how I was doing or how stressed or worried I was I would try to appear or sound just like Martha Stewart and say "Oh everything is wonderful, everything is perfect".

So I told her "Oh it is wonderful. Everything is perfect. I am just rolling out my pie crusts"

She seemed impressed and said "You make your own pie crusts?"

"Of course" I replied. "Some people buy frozen but I prefer homemade. Although, I did look for frozen crusts here in Holland but you don't have them so..."

"Oh we have them" she said "of course we do"

"No, no you don't" I shot back "I looked in the frozen section and the dairy section there were none"

"Oh, no, that is not the section they are sold in" she kind of giggled. "We sell them"

And that is when it started... a little twitch. In the lower right hand corner of my right eye.

"Well, well ...I prefer homemade pie crusts.. Anyway it's all going to be wonderful. Everything so far is perfect so I'll see you tomorrow!"

I started to make the pumpkin filling and realized a few other things. APPARENTLY when using real pureed pumpkin you cannot use the pumpkin pie recipe from a Libby's Pumpkin Can. Around this same time I discovered that I only had the use of metric measuring cups and all my recipes were in... the other... measuring system. The American measuring system. Whatever it is called. Also around this time I discovered I only have one pie pan, which I had brought from the States. But I need to make two pies. I HAD to make Pumpkin Pie and I HAD to make Pecan Pie. Apparently the Dutch just don't use pie pans. They just don't! TRUST ME! They DON'T! (and if any of you are reading this in Holland PLEASE do not write me and tell me you know where I can get one. I don't need to hear that now) I did run out to three stores to try to find tin pie pans and I found nothing. I did found one pyrex like pan at the Bijenkorf (Dutch Version of Macy's) but it cost something like twenty five Euro (around thirty eight dollars) I was NOT making a forty dollar pecan pie! So I decided to squish the dough into a tart pan and fiddle with all the measurements.

It was at this time that I decided the new theme for my Thanksgiving Feast was ...Rustic! (What choice did I have)

My eye was in full twitch now. I was in the kitchen with pans pulled out everywhere, splatters of pureed pumpkin here and there, one flour covered finger applying pressure on my twitch and the other hand on my laptop trying to convert 375 degrees fahrenheit into celsius AND Google what a cup converts to in grams. To make matters worse my Asian Carnation milk can was in Chinese or Islamic or something and I had no idea where it said many grams the can was (it was a weird shaped can) and the Libby's can recipe only says add one can...Aghhhh! At one point I checked out Paula Dean's Pumpkin pie recipe on-line but she added all this extra butter and stuff like cream cheese! (Damn Paula, can't you just make a normal pie?) The Food Channels Barefoot Contessa Pumpkin Pie recipe was worse and involved me going out to the forest to find wild Nutmeg.....Aghhhh! So I chose to stick with Libby's!

Around this time Jur called from work and I told him "I'm fine! everything is perfect! Wonderful Although I can't talk right now!"

I started to think about home. You know Thanksgiving was always sort of a communal thing. The very first Thanksgiving the Indians and the Pilgrims all cooked things and then brought them to the table. Growing up my Mom and her Sisters divided up the dishes. The last few years Thanksgiving with my friends was sort of potluck kind of thing. What the hell was I thinking cooking Turkey, Gravy, Cranberries, Stuffing, Green Bean Casserole, Mashed Potatoes, Brussels Sprouts, Pecan Pie, Pumpkin Pie and fresh whipped cream all by myself? (FYI there was supposed to be sweet potatoes but apparently what I bought at the Asian market that I thought looked like sweet potatoes turned out to be some sort of sticky green fruit when I peeled it)

I almost fell apart at this time....but then I remembered.....The British are Coming...The British are coming.... The one saving grace I had on my side was that John, Jur's friend, a "Gentleman" from England was coming tonight. He had told me over the phone that he loved the Thanksgivings he had when he lived in the States and would so excited if he could come. He also told me he would love to help me with the Thanksgiving cooking. He was going to cook the stuffing and the green bean casserole. Although I was hesitant about the stuffing. I love stuffing. Stuffing is so important. Now out of stress I had decided that he was also cooking the Brussels sprouts.

Thank God I got Jur to make the cranberries before he left for work. I trusted him with that. One good cooking thing Dutch do well is boil fruit with sugar.

The doorbell rang and it was John. "John, thank God you're here. Okay I am behind! Get in here now! Pie drama, fill you in later. Okay here is your list. Stick to it! By the way you're making the Brussels sprouts too. Oh and our theme is now rustic AND what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen. I will tell ONLY you that I am stressed, only you, but if anyone asks we are fine. Everything is wonderful, got it? Oh and if you see me touching my eye it is cause I am twitching"

"Hello Dear, sure, fine whatever" John said "I just need a vodka 7-up first! I cook much better when I'm drinking, shall I make you one?"

Okay here is the thing that I have learned...The English like to drink. John can drink. All I can say was that the next day and a half of cooking with John was like being in the kitchen with Dudley Moore from the movie Arthur. In fact John's last name is MOORE!

"John please don't drink! Please. We have no time. I need you to focus. You need to start chopping the vegetables for your stuffing and I do not want you handling a knife drunk."

"Well, no worries, I don't chop my vegetables for my stuffing, I shred everything with my hands and, oh, I need lots of butter (The English drink and use lot's of butter) oh and ice lot's of ice for my cocktails" he said.

I didn't have time to explain to him that the Dutch have no ice. It is a precious commodity.

My twitch was getting worse and worse and now we're having English shredded stuffing. The stuffing is ruined! Stuffing is so important.

I eventually had a cocktail and resigned myself to just hoping for the best.

The next morning I woke up and headed straight to the kitchen only to find John there smoking a cigarette and pouring a vodka 7-up in a Kilt! Had he even gone to sleep I wondered? There was no time. The Turkey had to go in the oven! I was sort of confused about the Celsius vs Fahrenheit cooking time of a turkey but I had to hope for the best. There was also the issue that the Turkey we ordered was straight from a farm and seemed to still have a few random feathers on it but John, my drunk Sous Chef, assured me that no one would notice and they would probably burn off. This situation never happens with a good ole Butterball Turkey.

Everything was in full swing now. Jur was running around creating his Dutch Cornucopia center piece. We fought briefly over the Turkey place cards and toilet paper rolls but reached a compromise. John went out a few more times to the store for more Vodka. Jur was using valuable counter space to assemble his stinky Dutch cheese platter. Eventually the Dutch Pilgrim Guests started to arrive. I was still twitching. Every time the doorbell rang my lip joined in on the twitch too. They all seemed to head straight to the kitchen and I would greet them and say everything is fine. John would be behind me with a cigarette, a spatula, his vodka and often on the floor picking food up that he had dropped. I would hear him mumble from down there "Yeah, fine Wonderful whatever"

It was around this time that I started to feel a bit dizzy. "Please Sjan, Ad, Wibrand, Frits, Cathy, Edward ALL Dutch people get out the kitchen. Everything is wonderful. Please go out to the living room and read the history of Thanksgiving I printed off for you. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Danku!"

John slurs from behind me "Wonderful."

Forty five minutes later dinner was ready. I was a bit uncertain about whether the Turkey was cooked enough. During the whole meal I worried that I might give them all trichinosis poisoning. Could you imagine if they all got sick from their first Thanksgiving Turkey? Eight Dutch killed by American made Turkey. To be honest I was too tired to be that worried. I was exhausted. In fact I think my twitch went away from exhaustion.

One touching moment was at the beginning of the meal when I explained that we were to go around the table and say what we are thankful for. I said I was thankful for meeting all of them. For them coming and for my family back home, good health and good times and of course Turkey!

John said he was thankful that everything is wonderful and for the Winkel (convenience store) being so close and for it selling his favorite Vodka.

And then it was the Dutch guests turn....As they made their way around the table they said things like how they loved each other and how they were thankful to be so close to each other after all these years and they are so thankful to be together today, they grabbed each others hands and THEN before I could even sip my wine they ALL started crying. REALLY! Even my sixteen year old Dutch nephew Wibrand was crying. Full on tears!

I was stunned. Even drunk John stopped drinking for a minute.

No no no no nooooo I thought. You're not supposed to cry! You're supposed to say things like...I am thankful for good wine or mashed potatoes! I was too tired to say anything to break the ice so I just got up and got all the Dutch Pilgrims a box of tissues and then softly said "Well, okay then, enjoy!" All I kept thinking was I am so tired, my guests are crying, I hope I don't poison them, please John don't pass out, and that I will NEVER do this again.

Anyway, everything looked good (candle light helped with that). Everything tasted pretty good too (wine helped with that). No one got sick. Ad (pronounced Ot) gets the prize for Best Dutch Guest. He ate everything on his plate, didn't cry, had seconds and asked for food to take home! All in all the Dutch Thanksgiving was nice. A bit emotional, exhausting, stressful but it was well received.

BUT NOW...it's Christmas time! I am SOOOO excited. I invited all of them over again for a Traditional American Christmas Dinner (except John of course). Maybe I will even try to make a chocolate Yule Log or my own Honey baked ham. Or tamales! I can try to make tamales! They can't be that hard, right?

Short and Sweet Things I am Dankful for.....

2009-11-25T10:26:00.004+01:00

This blog will be short and sweet. I know many of the readers out there are busy making pies and roasting Turkeys. So here is a quick report of things I am dankful for this Danksgiving!

I am thankful that I did not kill that lady next to me while on my bike yesterday. If anyone hears an older Dutch Woman with short hair telling an angry story of a stupid American suddenly veering over and causing her to swerve into oncoming traffic tell her I am sorry. I am thankful she is alive.

I am thankful I found Carnation evaporated milk at the Asian Market. I can make pumpkin pie.

I am thankful for Ollieballen. Fried balls of dough with dried cherries and powdered sugar. They are good

I am thankful for the Winkel cause I buy food there and it makes me giggle to say "I am going to the winkel"

I am thankful that I passed my first person on my bike. Granted he was biking with three large trash bags, but still I did it!

I am thankful Jur is excited about our Thanksgiving dinner even though his contribution is the Dutch Cheese Course which seems to be the only thing I smell in the kitchen and pretty much the whole house. That is some strong ass smelling Dutch cheese. It smells like something died in there. I am sure it will be delicious.

I am thankful for the Turkey we found (not easy to do in Holland) and for the aroma it will create (hopefully and quickly) to overtake the stinky cheese

I am thankful for vitamin D. I have never been this long without exposure to sun. I have no pigment. I am Albino now and vitamin D is essential.

I am thankful for Bitterballen. Fried balls of dough with creamed beef and mustard. They are good

I am thankful for my Mom sending pecans and Rob sending Corn syrup all which are essential for.. PECAN PIE!

I am thankful when I am on my bike and the torrential, howling, gail force winds of Holland are at my back! I feel like a speedster AND I do not have to peddle! Wheeeeeeeeee......!

I am thankful for the sun! Oh Sun, I love you. Where are you? Have I offended thee? I will honor you all the rest of my days. I shall never curse your heat again. I vow that it is now clouds, rain and cold that I despise!

I am thankful that I have learned to identify the symptoms of S.A.D (Seasonal Activity Disorder) Yes, Dutch people close to me, I realize I have a few of the symptoms. I just wish people would LEAVE ME ALONE, I am FINE!!!! I just...it's... so YES! I cry a lot. Sometimes spontaneously. Who cares? I'm an emotional person! And No! I do NOT think it is bad or depressing to spend most of my day curled up in a ball under the covers? I am tired! I am FINNEEEE!

I am thankful for sweaters, scarves, gloves and hats.....enough said

I am thankful for you reading

I wish you Happy Thanksgiving (now go out and cook eat and enjoy!)
(My Traditional Thanksgiving Dinner for ten Dutch first time Turkey eaters is tomorrow at 3:30! Aye! I will let you know what they think of it! Now I have to go cover the toilet paper rolls in corn kernels for napkin rings and cut out the hands I traced to make turkey place cards! Busy little American here in Holland. Gobble Gobble!)

Introducing........CAGA TIO!

2009-11-18T15:25:00.009+01:00

This is Caga Tio. I first heard of Caga Tio when I visited the Catalonia region of Spain about two years ago! Caga (pronounced Caca) means poop and Tio means tree trunk or Uncle. In Spain, I met some friends of Jur's who had children and we discussed life in Spain. I always like to ask about local holidays and traditions. I kept hearing them refer to Caga Tio. I finally had to ask "who is this pooping Uncle you keep talking about?"

Apparently Caga Tio appears on the Feast of The Immaculate Conception (December 8th). He is generally a small piece of wood with a face painted on it and two front legs. He is kept like a pet for the next month. He is fed and kept warm by the children. If they do this he will grow! Every few days he gets bigger.

(Top Secret info here.... Rudy and Manon (Jur's friends in Spain) say THEY actually replace the Caga Tio every few days. (I was a bit disappointed to find out Spain does not actually have logs that grow if you feed them.)

Rudy says "Yesth it is easy, I justth go outthside and find a piecth of wood and paint anothther faceth on it."

Although it is easy for Manon and Rudy because they live out in the country. The poor Catalonian urban parents have to trek out to the woods to find larger and larger Caga Tios or secretly buy them from Caga Tio shops and hide them around the house.

By the time Christmas Eve or Christmas day has arrived Caga Tio is full grown (full being the important word here). The tradition was you would put part of Caga Tio in the fire to get him ready to do his thing but NOW since many people do not have fireplaces he is usually put in the center of the living room covered in his large red blanket and ready for the festivities to begin. Children gather around the Caga Tio with sticks and hit him. They hit him over and over and sing wonderful classic holiday songs (that we all know and love) such as

caga tió, caga torró, avellanes i mató, si no cagues bé et daré un cop de bastó. caga tió!"...translated it means...poop log, poop Spanish Candy, hazelnuts and cottage cheese, if you don't poop well, I'll hit you with a stick, poop log!

Perhaps those of you in Church choirs or who are annual Carolers' would like to try this song out this year!

I also learned that getting children to sing songs and hit a log until it poops gifts is a great way to keep them busy and exhaust them. Once the Caga Tio has been tortured enough he is ready to "relieve" himself! Traditionally he poops small gifts like candies, trinkets, coins and such but apparently over the years he has become more "regular" or "capable" and all kinds of gifts poop out! I couldn't help but wonder....like a Plasma Screen TV? Or an Easy Bake Oven? My goodness..... He used to traditionally poop fruit. A favorite was dried figs which would be shared with all those present. That tradition has faded and I assume it is because they realized that it was.....well...in my opinion they realized it is a bit too realistic.

(More TOP SECRET Info: Apparently a parent stands behind the Caga Tio and as the children sing it is announced that Caga Tio is pooping and slides a gift from under the blanket. (so he does not ACTUALLY poop!) Or another way is the blanket is lifted to reveal all that Caga Tio has pooped.

You know Caga Tio is all "pooped" out when he poops a salted herring or urinates. I never found out how that is done exactly but I feel I know enough already. The herring was the inspiration for the Classic Christmas song.....

caga tió, tió de Nadal, no caguis arengades, que són massa salades caga torrons que són més bons!" .....translated......poop log, log of Christmas, don't poop herrings, which are too salty, poop Spanish candy which is much better!

Then while everyone plays with Caga Tio's poop gifts you burn him for warmth!

I became instantly fascinated with Caga Tio! I felt the need to celebrate the Caga Tio. He was my new Christmas theme that year. I decided to send out to all my friends and loved ones Christmas Cards of the Caga Tio. I probably should have thought this out more. Apparently people receiving a picture of children beating a log as it poops gifts is not very traditional and rather unexpected in the United States for the holidays. I think I may have upset or offended a few more spiritual friends and family. That year, in return, I received, by far, the most "spiritual" holiday cards I have ever received. Reminders that "Jesus is the reason for the Season" and all kinds of Nativity scene prints. Despite this I was too filled with my excitement of the Caga Tio! I still wanted to do more to share him with all.

My dear friend Rob provided me with the way to do this. He was in Spain with me during the Caga Tio discovery. He, too, was fascinated with Caga Tio (he has always been a bit to fascinated with poo in my opinion). Rob, being as crafty as he is, made me an entire basket of Caga Tio ornaments. I was thrilled. Guess what everyone I loved was getting for Christmas this year? Caga Tio Ornaments! Hopefully they will be better received then the year I gave out German traditional lucky Pickle ornaments as gifts. Another of my favorites. Apparently I was mostly alone in my enthusiasm for both of these. I know this because this past Christmas I went from house to house of friends and family to find my Caga Tio ornament on their trees. I often would find my rejected Caga Tio hung low and to the back and "coincidently" often next to my Pickle!

I still celebrate the Caga Tio (and the Pickle) and I encourage you and yours to consider adding him to your Christmas traditions!

P.S . you can find youTube videos of people celebrating the Caga Tio! Catalonian Children even get to do Caga Tio at school! I am kind of bitter that I never got to do the Caga Tio at school!

P.P.S. there is also the tradition of adding a pooping figure of a Man to the VERY back of a Nativity sets (I do not mean to offend I am just reporting.) This began when there was a "small" feud between Spain and the Italian Church. I guess this was their way of showing some slight disdain to the Church.
Well.... at least they put up the Nativity Set.

Ken's Holiday Blog #1 Sint Nicolaas arrived (YEAH!!! Well, I don't know!)

2009-11-15T12:28:00.043+01:00

Sint Nicolaas arrived yesterday. I had heard he was coming and kind of forgot until driving to the cheese shop with Jur. I just started to notice lots of colorful kids out and about and was just about to say something when Jur began to shout "Oh Sint Nicolaas arrived! Sint Nicolaas arrived!"

"From where?" I asked and "When?" but before he was able to calm down and answer it was I who then became hysterical....."Oh MY SWEET JESUS!!!! What the hell? Oh My God!" I began turning my head in all kinds of directions looking at Dutch children everywhere..... "What in the hell are they doing?"

NOW WARNING: THIS NEXT PART IS BY NO MEANS THE VIEW OF THIS WRITER! I DO NOT CONDONE THIS!

All the children are in black face, well not ALL of them but a bunch! Little kids walking around with dark make-up on and little Spanish Renaissance capes, dresses and all wearing Spanish style berets with a big feather sticking out, running around the city looking for this Sint Nicolaas It was the strangest thing I had ever seen. Everyone was so happy except of course me who was frightened, shocked, concerned, confused.

After I began to calm down from another of Holland's many MANY MAAANNNYYYY unusual customs (I do not think it will ever end), I began to ask questions.

"Okay wait, what the hell is this about?"

Jur explained that Sint Nicolaas comes from Spain every year on this date. He is a Spanish Bishop and he brings his Moorish helpers known as Zwarte Pieten (black helpers). They are "dark" people.

"MmmmHmmmm" I moaned.

"He arrives by boat with a giant book of the year long report of all the children in Holland and then goes down the chimney of every childs house. You know he has been to your house because you leave a shoe (or clog) by the fire place and he will "hopefully" leave you a treat like a chocolate gold coin. Then on December 5th he comes back (he is VERY busy) and leaves the children gifts, but ONLY if you deserve them. But if the report he got is not good it is very frightening because the children are told that Sint Nicolaas' Zwarte Pieten will put them in a sack and take them back to Spain!

"Mmmmhmmmm" I moaned

I had so many questions. What the hell is the problem with Spain? I began to defend Spain. I am so cold here in Holland I could go for some Spain right now and I love tapas and I love Sangria. Send me to Spain. I LOVE SPAIN!

"How the hell does he get here by boat? Is there even a river that flows from Spain to Holland? I don't get it? That's not possible" I was trying to discredit this "holiday" in anyway.

"Uh, no, he sails the ocean. It is much quicker. You know the ocean? The ocean that runs along Spain up here to Holland?" was the response fired back at me.

I lost credibility on that one.

Oh and I happen to be a brown haired person of partial Latino heritage. All of a sudden I became very ethnic and latino in Holland on St. Nicolaas day, I slowly started speaking with this Spanish accent. Which is not easy to do. You try being an English speaking American who speaks bad Dutch with a Spanish accent.

"Por que do they have to be dark skinned, huh, que, wat, why?" (sort of swaying my head back and forth)

I became paranoid that little children were looking at me as if I was going to club them on the head and put them in a sack. I seriously thought about walking around and giving the evil eye to little children wearing "the make up." I would point to myself, then point to my eyes and then point at the kid... I see you.... sign language is international. I see you...... Then if I got their attention I would quickly mimic having a bat in my hand and "pop" right on their head! Scare the little buggers.

No NO NO NO NOOOOOO. Then I would be perpetuating the stereotype. Maybe next year I could go in white face and club all the heads of parents with children in black face. Then give chocolate coins to only the children NOT in black face.

I shared my thoughts and plans with Jur and he said, "Where did hitting children on the head with a baseball bat come from?" I lost credibility on that one too. Okay I realize this WHOLE St. Nicolaas thing is having a BIG BIG affect on me. The Dutch are very accepting people, they are not violent and I think I was getting a bit carried away. This is a holiday with a long tradition. It goes way back. Besides Santa Claus breaks into peoples house too and he has thousands of Elves forced to make gifts for children that he keeps in some cold factory. Are they really happy? And why are they "little" people?

Oh! AND apparently you leave a carrot for the "white" horse of St. Nicolaas. So I asked, "What about his black helpers? Huh, what about them?" Apparently you CAN leave them something but they don't seem to eat so people generally don't leave them anything.

"Mmmmhmmmmm" I moaned as I listened

So in summary, apparently there is a man (A Saint) from Spain running around Holland for the next few weeks, with his "Ethnic" helpers, breaking into peoples homes, to "get to know" the children AND if they have been bad they kidnap the child back to Spain! This is WAY stranger then Caga Tio! The Pooping Uncle that comes at Christmas in Castellan Spain region. Okay I will write about him in a day or so. My next few blogs will be dedicated to all the Holidays. Lots to report about such as St. Nicholas Dec 5th Day, Ken's Introducing the Dutch to Thanksgiving, some Christmas time in Texas (always a surprise) then my first actual Christmas Day in Holland, and New Years......

Bye for now, I gotta go find pumpkins to make Pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. There is no canned Pumpkin here soooooo it looks like Ken is going to have to carve up pumpkins to make real pumpkin puree for pumpkin pies that Dutch people probably won't eat anyway! I will MAKE them eat my damn pie if I have to shove it down their........

Holidays in Holland seem to be making me aggressive.
All will be lovely.

Someone send me Libby's canned pumpkin!

I Deserve A Little Taste of America!

2009-11-12T13:42:00.006+01:00

My most recent class in Dutch was tough for so many reasons. First of, I am not sure what is tougher learning Dutch or biking to Dutch Class. I left the house at 6:15 giving me 45 minutes to get to class. (which should only take about 15 minutes) But I had to make a stop...

I have developed a ritual of rewarding myself for making it to my Dutch class with what I call an American treat. I buy myself something American to eat. I have to eat Dutch all week, then study Dutch and see Dutch and then bike through Dutch hell to get to Dutch class then 3 hours of hearing Dutch and write Dutch, Dammit! I AT LEAST deserve an American reward or something as close as I can find. For my first class I rewarded myself with a bag of "COOL AMERICAN" (what they call Ranch flavored chips here)Doritos and a Kit Kat Bar. Class two it was a frozen Pizza called the BIG TEXAN American pepperoni pizza. Class three was Sloppy Joe's from a packet of sloppy joe seasoning I had kept hidden in my sock drawer that I smuggled back with me from my last visit to the States (class three was tough and I rewarded myself with this special luxury). So this last class I decided I am going to splurge and bike to Kentucky Fried Chicken. I NEVER eat there in the States. It seems my rewards are getting more and more extravagant. I was going to buy me a KFC chicken sandwich for after class. Good ole American fast food.

My bike was going to be a problem today. I had asked Jur to raise the seat for me after a few people commented that I was sitting to low on my bike. Jur had told me a few days ago he did it but I did not check it out because I generally try to avoid the bike until class. (I control the bike the bike does not control me.) I knew that I should have checked the seat height before I left for KFC and my class. The seat was a few inches two high and I really had to jump to get on my seat and when I needed to stop I would have to stretch with all my might to just get my toes to scrap the pavement. Painful at times on the crotch and not good for my dress shoes which I was really regretting wearing. This was going to be an experience.

Now to get to KFC is not as easy as it sounds. I would have to bike through the middle of the busiest section of The Hague! I was willing to risk it. I wanted that damn American tasting Chicken sandwich with special KFC seasoning. I don't care if the sandwich gets cold in the next three and half hours. It's American and it is mine! Plus the idea of biking home after class and eating KFC while watching clips of Desperate Housewives on you tube was now my mission!

I arrive at KFC and, of course, the menu is completely different. A Mexi-Kip Broodje Wrap? What the hell is that? A Spicy Kip and Colonel Burger? What? I debated to maybe just get the popcorn chicken bucket but that did not seem good cold three hours from now and I was not ready to bike with a bucket much less show up to calss with a KFC bucket. So I ordered ...."Alsjeblieft ein niet spicy Kip and Colonel Kip Burger bij Kass" Which was my very bad Dutch way of saying "please a not spicy Colonel Chicken Burger with cheese." This was not making me feel very American.

I got my sandwich and headed out only to find it was pouring rain all of the sudden. Ahhhh Holland! What can I do? I have to get to class.

Now for the first time ever I had difficulty finding my bike. They all look the same. They do. They are all old, rusty, pieces of medal and I could not find my bike in the heap of bikes chained together in front of KFC. There I was getting drenched, shivering (because this time, for the first time, I underdressed so I could avoid sweating to much from my vigorous bike ride(bad idea)), grasping my chicken sandwich reward whose plastic bag is getting destroyed amongst this heap of bikes. I know, as usual, people are staring at me. I finally locate my bike. I was so angry at it. Then I have to unlock my bike. Which is not as easy as it seems due to this medal, rolled up, difficult to uncoil, long awkward lock and this other lock built into the bike to jam the back tire. The problem is you can't move the bike if the back tire is jammed but to unjam the tire the key needs to STAY in the lock but I need to other key on the chain to unlock the hellish coil ...oh never mind, the POINT is it is difficult and annoying to locate and unlock my damn bike. Especially in the rain holding a KFC bag!

After several attempts at leaping on to my bike seat in front of Kentucky Fried Chicken I wobble off, wet, with my ripped up KFC bag, trying desperately to reach my bike pedals and then...... THE DETOUR!..... A detour!..... A freakin bike Detour. I get caught up in a mass herd of bicyclist coming from all different directions because of some damn construction detour and we are all having to make quick last minute changes to our routes. It was terrifying. At one pint we ended up going though these muddy hilly trails. I felt like I was in some sort of BMX cross country motor race. Mud flung up on my pants and oh my poor poor dress shoes! Every once in a while they put these thick medal sheets over the larger pot holes and.... I saw it.....I saw it coming....I was just hoping to cross it with out disturbing the others bikers....please just let me make it across the metal sheet.... but no. Not for Ken. It was like slow motion. The second my front tire got on the metal, wet, muddy sheet it started sliding to the right. There was nothing I could do. My feet can't reach the ground. Thank god there were no other bikers to my right. I just slid right off the sheet vertically in to the mud. I was able to jump of my bike in time. I then waited for everyone to pass, lifted my bike and carried it passed the medal sheet, which is when I noticed my sandwich was missing. I saw it a few feet back and ran to grab it. I was slightly hysterical. My plastic sandwich handle broke. I grapped it and was relieved to see no one had run over it. I decided is was best to carry my bike until the detour was over and I was back on solid ground. I made an attempt to repair my plastic bag handle and hoped it would last till I got home that night.

The rest of the ride to class was fine. I arrived drenched and went to the bathroom to dry myself off with toilet paper. My KFC sandwich bag looked horrible. All shredded, wet and muddy. I cleaned it off with toilet paper too. I was almost too embarrassed to bring in into class, but was not about to abandon him. We had been though to much and we had big plans later.

Class was hard. We are learning about past tense verbs. Everyone is lost and confused. As usual. At one point I laughed out loud because I looked up and Mrs Wytske was standing in front of here projector. She had just written a question on the screen in red marker when one of my classmates asked a question, when Mrs Wytske stopped to figure out what my class mate was asking she stood between the projector and the screen and she had a big red question mark on the middle of her forehead! I thought it was hilarious. Class was worth it just for that! Oh Poor Mrs Wytske! She brings me such joy sometimes.

After class, it had stopped raining, I re-secured my plastic KFC bag and pedaled home. I took a completely different route as to avoid the cursed detour. I got home exhausted, got undressed put on my favorite American clothes, turned on my computer and went on youtube. Dammit no one downloaded the recent Desperate Housewives yet! I unwrapped my Colonel Kip Burger with cheese (which they forgot to give me cheese but charged me for it and made it spicy even though I specifically asked for not spicy)(this was the most familiar American part of the whole experience)! The sandwich was soggy, cold, and gross. But I ate it! It was my well earned American treat!

Starship Ken-Boldly going.....

2009-11-05T13:42:00.005+01:00

Holland, the final frontier. These are the voyages of Starship Ken. My 8 month mission (so far) to explore Nederland. To seek out new Dutch Lifestyles and Dutch Civilization, to boldly go where only brave and those looking for a challenge have gone before.

Log 1- I have lost track but if my estimates are correct it is day 4,382 of rain

Log 2- My guide (Mrs. Wytske-Dutch Teacher) has bravely embarked on teaching me to tell time. This simple earthling task of saying 9:20 is not so easy in the Nederland. It is said "tien voor half tien" translated that means it is ten minutes till half way till 10. (That is 9:20) I have found it is better to say "I don't know the time"

Log 3- The Dutch do not stand in line. This is important to know for your survival. If you ever hope to get to an ATM Machine or buy groceries you must be aggressive and know there is no semblance of order. (This just drives me crazy!) Each ATM, each registrar, each bathroom stall has its own sort of line. People do not wait on a first come first served basis. This scenario has been the cause of the few negative "altercations" I have encountered with the Dutch Natives.

Log 4- I have been adapting to the Dutch customs. I have all but given up on my version of breakfast. A typical Dutch breakfast (if it occurs at all) is coffee, bread and butter, with Gouda cheese and chocolate sprinkles. In fact recently there was an event I saw on the news to encourage Dutch children the importance of breakfast. Several famous Dutch Ice Speed Skaters had chocolate sprinkles with children at schools. I have fantasized about bringing the International House of Pancakes or a Dennys franchise to Nederland people but I know it would go out of business.

Log 5- It is still raining

Log 6 - The Dutch love animals. I am doing my best to be aware of eating organic, free ranged animal product. I am learning that pigs are smart. I am learning to not have the instinct to kill a fly, or spider. I have mastered the catch and release (with the use of a cup) of any bug that I find in my Dutch dwelling. EXCEPT I have set my foot (or clog) down when it comes to Mosquitoes. Dutch Mosquitoes are a very aggressive and durable species. They must breed in all those canals. Winter does not seem to phase them. I am an American who kills Dutch Mosquitoes. I vow I will do this anywhere I live.

Log 7- My bike training (the Dutch required mode of transportation). I have gotten better. I have had good bike days and then have I have had some bad ones. I now know to never bike on a street parallel to the trolley car tracks. Bike wheels are just small enough to fall into the track. When this happens you come to a screeching halt. And if by chance only your front tire gets caught you get jack knifed forward and fly into the air and fall head first onto the street. I sustained no visual injuries (mainly due to the fact that, at present, I am the slowest bicyclist in Holland (out of fear)) but it was a frightening experience that I only needed to have once and I guarantee I will never NEVER do that again. I only wish I had been warned.

Log 8- Other than this blog one other form of communication back to Mother America is the post. In Nederland it is known as TNT. My first visit to a TNT office was amazing. It was beautiful, like going to a new Starbucks but for mail. They were so friendly and full of smiles. Everything was orange and there were fresh flowers and Dutch TNT employees walking around to assist you! Now as time has progressed I have found that a letter leaving Holland generally takes about 3- 45 days to make its destination. A package with a tracking number for the US Postal Services is traceable UNTIL it reaches Holland. Then TNT says Customs has it, but Customs says no TNT handles that and then when I call TNT back they say well we do not know right now because we have a computer glitch with our connection to Customs, and when I inquire how long it will take to fix that glitch they said it has been a glitch since last December. I say well that is not a glitch that is a permanent error, then the TNT representative suddenly does not speak good English. When I confronted my TNT "mailman" he says he knows nothing about packages but he is sooooo sorry and he has a lovely friendly smile. The next day when I ask him more questions that I had prepared for himall night in hopes of trapping him into giving me ANY info he again just smiles, says is very sorry, he knows nothing and then hands me our mail. When I close the door in frustration I look at the mail HE GAVE ME THE MAIL FOR A HOUSE DOWN THE STREET! I was officially going postal! No not postal ... TNT was making me want to explode. That is why they call it TNT they want to make you explosively angry! I get it now.... so I may have written some of you a letter and it could be there in a few days or sometime in the next few months.

Log 9- I find myself eating more and more Chocolate Sprinkles. They are good comfort food when you are angry, on a rainy day or when you are recovering from a bike injury.

My Dutch Class Report #2 Poor Mrs Wytske (My Teacher)

2009-10-30T19:56:00.001+01:00

I have now had four of my ten Dutch classes. So much has happened and changed since my first (and only) report about my class.

As you may recall we meet once a week on Tuesdays from 7-10:15 p.m.. Not 10 but 10:15. Those last 15 minutes are tough. After the third class the teacher announced that there was no class next week due to fall break. Thank God! All this school work has been hard. I deserved a break. All of us international students yelled out for joy in our various languages and tribal sounds once we each looked up in our native language to Dutch dictionaries what she said. I felt like I was in High School or college again and was just told it was Spring Break and heading to Cancun! The whole bike ride home I kept singing "PARRRRRR TEHHHHH I am on falllllllll break....PARRRRR TEHHHHH I am on SPPPPRRRING BREAK." It was the best bike ride ever! I love Holland. It is one of the top ten countries in the world on the number of holidays and vacations for students and employees. I have never wanted to get a job so bad, just so I can get the required 25 days paid vacation (not including holidays and sick days).

I announced my news to Jur by saying "Nederland is goed. Ik ben op vakanties". Then I broke out into my fall break party dance and pranced around the house. It was a good thing there was no beer in the house cause I am sure I would have made a beer bong and gone crazy.

Anyway, as of this Tuesday vacation was over and it was back to class. The vacation flew by! I was dreading going back as if it was the first day. I sat in my usual seat. I get to class early now to claim it. I have discovered that some cultures (ROMANIANS and GERMANS to be specific!) seem to have NO etiquette when it comes to seat assignments. True, we may not have been assigned seats, but I like to sit in the same seat. I chose my seat. It has a good view of the clock. It is at the end of the row so I have plenty of elbow room. It is not in the front and not in the back but toward the middle back so if I am lost or confused I can sort of be hidden. I was so mad when I got to class two when I found Eve or Eva or whatever the cold German woman's name is sitting in my seat. That was my seat. Now I notice she keeps moving every class to a different spot and I watch as people who used to sit in the seat which she now occupies walk in and are instantly confused and displaced. I can't help but to revert to history and wonder what it is with Germans needing to occupy everything? I am watching her! The big day will come when Eva the German tries to take Lieve's (or something sounding like that), the flashy dressing scarf wearing French woman, seat. Lieve is very outspoken and I don't think she would tolerate the invasion. I class-dream about them fighting over their territory. That would be one hell of a battle. I think as an American in Europe I get caught up in The Band of Brothers, Winds of War Hollywood movie version of Europe.

On class three I came early to stake my claim before the German, and THEN the quiet Romanian women came in (LATE I might add) and sat in the seat right next to me! OH GOD! See we sit at these two person table desks. This is not a normal classroom. During the day it is a science biology lab for High School Students. There are jars of pickled ancient animals and insects all along the right side of the classroom. It was kind of distracting and gross at first. Our desks are lab tables. They appear to be clean and the room never smells. Judging from the pictures on the chalk board (I see them since I am the first to arrive because of the GERMAN!) the students are actually dissecting a flower (Iris or Lily or something). Anyway the Romanian lady walks in (LATE as I said!) and sits down on MY lab table. Why would she do that? She has disrupted my personal space. She has immigrated into my territory. A whole different type of invasion. This was an annoyingly big deal! CLEARLY there were at least two or three empty lab tables in the front or back. GREAT! Class three is ruined for me now! Our elbows were practically touching and NOW this forces me to be her Dutch Lab Partner when it comes to the conversation exercises! Uugghhh the Romanians are hard to understand and she is like Jiajio (my previous Chinese Dutch Lab Partner) so soft spoken.

So NOW not only do I get to class early, I also spread my back pack, my papers, textbooks, pens and candy all over my lab table to make people feel unwelcome. It worked this week but I am always ready for another country to invade.

The really hard part about the class is that we are from all over the world and have different levels of Dutch and English and have no idea how to talk to each other in most of each other's native tongues. We seem to have all grown slightly scared of each other. There is a lot of darting eyes, the occasional hesitant smirk and a lot of shrugging shoulders. For example this guy from some country (I honestly do not know where he is from. He could be anywhere from South America to the Middle East, he is very unusual. I have thought that perhaps he is Gypsy.) looked across the aisle at me and pointed to something the teacher had written or said and mouthed some sort of question or statement to me. I had no idea what he wanted or was trying to say and I did not want to offend him so I did this physical combination of a shoulder shrug indicating...I don't know, plus the slight unfolding my hands indicating...I welcome your question, at the same time I widened my eyes to indicate.... I too am surprised by what he is pointing out, and the same time nodding my head in a weird way indicating both... yes and no. This is a safe answer that allows me to not point out that I have no idea what is going on or what anyone is saying. I learned this from Jiajio (My Ex Chinese Dutch Lab Partner). She did it to me all the time. It is a very effective technique that has spread faster then wildfire in the classroom. Now we all do it. Especially to the teacher, Mevrouw Wytske, when she calls on us.

Poor Mrs Wytske. The class seems to be taking its toll on her. She has a lot to deal with. People from all over the world asking her questions in broken English and broken Dutch. She is trying to teach one of the hardest languages in the world. She also has her own difficulty with English. I feel for her sometimes. Many times I see her just stare at a student when they ask something. She seems to have the look of a deer caught in headlights. A look of shock, fear and helplessness. As the weeks have passed I have noticed that the class has taken it's toll on her. Each new class she dresses in darker and more depressing clothing. By the end of each class her hair is all desheveled and frizzy and she always ends up with chalk powder smudges all over her face and clothes. (Especially her shoulder and elbow area because she is always hugging herself for comfort). She appears to be losing weight and has definitely aged. She no longer wears make-up or jewelry. It's like she has given up. She seems to have developed a nervous twitch on her lower lip that seems to be aggrevated when any of us raise our hand to ask a question. Especially by the guy from India who sits in the front row and asks a lot of questions. I feel for Mrs. Wytske because in all honesty I have no idea what the hell he is saying and wether he is saying it in Dutch, English or Indian. I am not sure how she deals with this. I am starting to worry about her. After the first hour I am exhausted just witnessing it all.

The most common question she gets though, which occurs at least fifteen to twenty times a class is: "I sorry, please, Wytske, but what you in book page where, danku?" or many variations of this question. This too seems to make her upset. I hope she knows we are all trying!

I study. I do. Jur and I both work on my flashcards, which is very challenging for our relationship. I have put post-its all over the house to become accustomed to seeing words. Jur tolerates this. To see him drinking from a coffee cup with a post-it is very touching. He cares. I asked Jur's sister Cathy (mijn schoonzus) for some children's books which she gave me. I am presently reading a lovely ten page book about a family of pigs that are going to a Mud Festival (I think?). It is a bit advanced for me.

Most of the time we learn strange things like words involving ice skating, cheese and dogs. I am not sure why that is but I trust Mevrouw Wytske. This past Tuesday, however, we did learn about numbers and time. All hell broke lose as Mrs Wytske played an audio tape of authentic announcements of train schedule changes. All of us just looked up into space hoping to catch a glimmer of a word so that we might catch our imaginaery train. Numbers are hard in Dutch for example 1998 in Dutch is negentienhonderdachtennegentig. What? They might as well be saying supercalifragilisticexpealidotious (which I am starting to believe is a dutch word, probably meaning something important like "look out!"). These long words are annoying. Get this....3271 is drieduizedtweehonderdeenenzeventig! Huh?
When I confronted Mevrouw Wytske about my dislike of this (most of the class giggled in agreement) her lip twitched a bit but then she turned to the chalk board and wrote in English threethousandtwohundredseventyone and turned back to me with this smug chalk covered look of victory and said "see in English it is just as long, you just separate the words with spaces. Dutch are more efficient and take up less space." I shrugged my shoulders, opened my hands, widened my eyes and bobbled my head.

So that is my Nederlandse klas report. Next week, if I am correctly reading ahead in the book, we are learning about nephews, bald people, beards, twins, Van Gogh, ham and itching. I still do not know how to say help me, I feel sick, I don't want to eat that, I am lost or important things like that, but I can tell you if a woman has red glasses, a dog is on the couch or that I am not camping....... I'll keep you posted on Mrs Wytske's health and the progress of my class. Tot Ziens.

Ice is important

2009-10-24T17:01:00.005+02:00

Hello my name is Ken and I am addicted to ice. I'm an iceahloic. An ice junkie. It has been over 6 months since I had my last glass filled with ice. I guess I realized I had a problem with ice when I moved to Holland.

There is very little ice. Ice is hard to find. People just do not have ice trays. This was one of the first things I noticed here. There are no soda fountain machines, like at the movies (which is healthy. I get it) however not seeing glasses filled with ice is shocking for Americans. Even restaurants. You can maybe get one ice cube! One! Two is rare and is like winning the lotto. Even Dutch McDonald's gives very little ice.

When I first got here Jur had this mini (1 inch x 1 inch size) 6 cube ice tray, made from some sort of bendable rubber. I can't tell you how angry I would get trying to pop those cubes out and having them shoot out like bullets into the air, or skid across the counter. I would scream and scramble to try to save them since I only had six cubes to work with. There was no ice to spare! No room for error. Ice had quickly become a precious rare commodity to me. God forbid if a cube fell on the floor and got dirty. I was screwed if that happened because the cubes are so small that if I rinsed it off most of it would melt!

I would often scream things at Jur from the kitchen like....

"This is INSANE...Ice should not be this hard!"

"OH GOD! Jesus, I dropped a cube!"

"Jur, you get no ice! You hear me? No ice for you" (I blamed him for this ice problem so he should be punished).

I even tried to freeze a pan of ice and chisel large ice chips out of it but ended up with a drenched kitchen and walking into the living room with shriveled, red, frost bitten hands, a few melting ice flakes in my hair and said defeatedly: "Ice is important Jur."

This ice thing was driving me insane....for a while I would lay awake at night and wondered if I was sent here to be like Harrison Ford in the Mosquito Coast and introduce ice to the people of Holland!

I spent almost 50 percent of my time the first month or so in Holland obsessed about ice. It was my mission to find ice trays. I made Jur take me to department stores, IKEA, kitchen stores, all over Holland looking for ice trays. I asked employee after employee over and over about ice trays, all who seemed to have no idea what I was talking about but when I would finally mime it out to them they would nod and indicate that oh yes we have that and THEN they ALL would hand me that damn same rubber mini 6 cube ice tray. After each store and each employee I grew more and more upset and anxious. I would get my hopes up and then they would get shattered. Twice I got so upset I started to get teary eyed. Once I just started to laugh uncontrollably at the realization that there just are no decent ice trays here.

I even got a bit angry once at a VERY uncaring employee as he stood there holding out that dangling, miserable excuse of a piece of a doo doo Dutch version of an ice tray. I swelled up with anger as I explained to him "NO NOOOOOO, no good! a BIG Ice try, BIGGER! Pops Out right when you twist it. POP! POP! POP! GIANT AMERICAN ICE! Comprende? (I don't know where the Spanish came from) Understand? A GOOD POP OUT AMERICAN BIG BIG AMERICAN ICE TRAY! I AM AMERICAN I NEED ICE! WE HAVE ICE IN AMERICA!" I angrily again mimed the twist and popping out of the ice but he and the crowd that had gathered all just looked at me as if I were some typical emotional obnoxious American doing some hand jive dance. I wanted to hit them all with their stupid rubber floppy ice tray!

I can't explain to you the rage I felt as I sat at a table explaining my ice cube plight with a few Dutch and I drew them a diagram of the ice tray I was searching for. One of them had the nerve to correct me and said "that is not an ice cube. Cubes are square. That is a rectangle" I wanted to lunge across the table and scream in his face All RIGHT ICE RECTANGLES THEN! I WANT ICE RECTANGLES! A GLASS FILLED WITH GIANT ICE RECTANGLES!..... Ice was making me violent.

My addiction had gotten so bad that I found myself sneaking into the kitchens of my Dutch friends to see if they had any ice. I would often yell or snap at anyone serving me a drink if they did not provide me with ice. When we were out at a bar or restaurant and someone would leave our table to go to the bathroom I would steal their ice if nobody was looking. I would go into restaurants and bars as I walked along the streets and beg for them to sell me ice to take home. Only one did. I paid one Euro for a plastic grocery bag (that I found on the floor near a trash can that looked clean) of ice and I ran home before it would melt. I hid it from Jur. I was hiding my addiction from the ones I love. Ice was controlling me.

I guess I hit rock bottom when I went into a liquor store to ask if they had ice. She said yes but she had not turned the machine on. She had a machine! I was so thrilled! She told me to come back in 30 minutes and she would give me a bag of ice. I waited for an hour so that there would be plenty of ice. The whole time I was thinking of ways she and I could set up an arrangement for ice. Could I call her whenever I needed ice? What could I do for her in exchange? How much would a weeks supply of ice cost me? When I returned she smiled and said "Oh the ice. wait here!" When she returned she handed me a Ziploc sandwich baggy of about 15 mini ice cubes. Apparently seeing that I was confused she showed me their ice machine. It was the size of a samll microwave and only made one cube at a time. I am not exactly sure what happened after that but I remember trembling, screaming something, running out of the store, mumbling the whole way home about the Dutch and Ice as I sucked on as many of the cubes as I could before they melted. I haven't been back to her liquor store since.

Eventually I took matters into my own hands and got a good American Friend (fellow ice junkie) to send me 40 American Ice Trays. I have given a few out as gifts but only to people I visit on a regular basis so they will have ice for me. Jur and I now have a freezer full of ice. All is good. Guess what all my Dutch friends and family are getting for Christmas?

Unfortunately now that winter is here I find it too cold for ice...... FYI....I do NOT need to hear anyone say "SEE that is why there is no ice in Holland!" ICE IS IMPORTANT!

Blog #6 Dutch Delicacies

2009-10-20T11:51:00.070+02:00

Hello All!

An update on Dutch Delicacies combined with Corri, Trixie, School and a few other things!

Corri.....my sort of only friend/neighbor seems to have either moved passed the banana bread fight or has forgotten about it. Jur and I ran into her on the street two days ago and she asked us to buy her a bottle of booze. Jenever! Dutch Gin (Dutch Delicacy).Very strong stuff. You should try it. My friend Michael visited me from the States and he drank a bit too much Jenever (not knowing what it was) at a neighbors gathering and passed out (he says fell asleep) on their lawn furniture. They took photos of him and keep them on their living room table for all their guests to see! Jenever, however, in moderation is wonderful! I recommend it.

School....well after three weeks of going on Tuesday nights for 3 hours I am happy to announce that we are on autumn break! Thank God! I was worn out. Although I do plan to study over the break. It has been recommended that I start to read children’s books to learn my Dutch. I feel a bit awkward reading in bed the Dutch version of Sesame Street while Jur is reading James Michener's Texas. (Which by the way I would never read anyway. It is WAY too long).

Beatrix (the Queen).... I am very committed to meeting with The Queen. I will keep you regularly posted on my progress. Why does Elizabeth get the entire world’s attention over there in England and her Cousin (2nd really) gets so little coverage? I want to become Queen Bea's American liaison! (BTW if any Dutch readers out there know her or know someone who knows someone who knows her, will you please tell her I said hello and inform her of my liaison offer, Danku). So I know where her office and home is, now I just need to know her schedule. In the meantime I am getting to know the family. Mainly from tabloids but I am trying to improve my sources. I do know that all Royals and descendants of Royals wear a special ring that indicates they are of Royal blood. I am looking for those suckers everywhere! I have developed a Dutch ring fetish. The other day Jur and went to see Julie and Julia. It was in a nice theater, pretty close to Trixie's Palace and the film seemed to attract a more sophisticated crowd. You can order bottles of wine (and beer) and they give you little wine glasses (Dutch Delicacy). It was fun hearing wine bottles pop open during Julie and Julia. Well, just as the lights dimmed for previews this distinguished older, nicely dressed woman with puffy hair and a gentleman were escorted in by a man in a suit. My heart skipped a beat. I thought IT'S HER! I dropped my bag of Dutch gummy candy I was so excited. I was pretty sure I caught the twinkle of jewel covered ring on her hand as she walked in but it all happened so fast. I watched her try to make her way in the dark but it turned out the theater was too full and only two crummy seats in the front row were available so they left the show. I whispered to Jur “I think that was Beatrix" and Jur whispered back "I am sure they would have reserved seats for the Queen, Ken." Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe it was one of her sisters or cousins or something. They're everywhere. I am so close I can feel them. I am GOING to meet her and you all will be the first to know!

Food..... I have wanted to write many things about the food culture (and some might say lack thereof) here in Holland but now after seeing Julie and Julia I am thinking I should try to introduce the Dutch to Mastering the Art of American cooking! This would be a whole other blog. Hell, do you know that they do not have Chocolate Chips here (American Delicacy)? No Chocolate Chips. Seriously. None. Anywhere. I have talked about this for months with everyone I meet (and I am sure it will be something I bring up to the Queen when we meet!) I even considered breaking it off with Jur and moving home just because there are no Chocolate Chips here! (I was having a bad day). No Chocolate Chips seems barbaric. Anyway, I will try to be positive about the Dutch (I do not think Trixie likes me talking bad about her peeps) so I would like to say that there are some WONDERFUL Dutch dishes I have had here in Holland and inspired by Julie and Julia I plan on letting Americans know about them . If you would like the recipe just hit me back and I will send it to you! Heck when was the last time you had friends over for a Traditional Dutch meal? (You can even make a joke about it being Dutch treat!)

Here are my recommendations:

Zuurkoolschotel (Dutch Delicacy)
Fruit boiled sauerkraut with ham and bread crumbs, pineapple, served with mashed (and then baked) potatoes and for dessert baked apples with rum and warm vanilla sauce!

Jachtschotel - I think that means Hunters Pie(?) (Dutch Delicacy)
Seasoned meat, apples, onions, and then a mashed potato topping and baked in a Dutch Oven (Delicious!) (This one takes time) followed by Dutch Appeltaart! Yummy!

Witte Asperges met Ham en Eieren (Dutch Delicacy) (This one is seasonal)
White Asparagus, Egg, Potatoes, Ham and melted butter. (Delicious!) Followed by poached fruit and yogurt whipped cream.

In the meantime....here is my big news.... I am preparing to host 6 Dutch people for their FIRST Thanksgiving meal. (Not the Queen, I assume, this year but maybe next year) (Beatrix if your reading please know that you are invited!) Also one English (sort of) Gentleman, named John (friend of Jur's) who lived in the States for many years and gave me some sob story about how depressed he gets every year on Thanksgiving. He has somehow weaseled his way into getting to make the stuffing. He is already overstepping his boundaries. He even had the nerve to ask me how I was decorating the table and in which way do I plan to cook the Turkey! If he does not simmer down I just may sit him at the kiddies table. Anyway my Dutch guests are excited and are even taking the day off work to come. I told them Thanksgiving is sort of an all day affair. I will keep you posted on this as it approaches. I am getting a few things shipped in from the States. (Thanks Mom!) The Dutch seem shocked when I told them that everyone in America is pretty much eating the same thing on that day, SOOOOO I was thinking (hoping) I could get some of ya'll from all over the States to send us (me) some pictures of your past Thanksgiving table/meal to show all of them how you do it! Will you? I want to knock the clogs off them! Oh and I am nervously excited (and a bit embarrassed) to be introducing the Dutch to Green Bean Casserole. I think I will let the English guy do this one.

Blog #5 You know the old saying: "It's just like riding a bike."

2009-10-16T15:47:00.004+02:00

Foreigner Bike Riding in Holland 101. Ken's Tips

I ride my bike to school about 20 minutes each way. This is what I think, how I prepare what I do and experience when I go for a bike ride through Central Den Haag. Me, who has not ridden a bike in 10 years, through a major city IN THE NETHERLANDS where bike riding is something the Dutch learn at birth, DURING RUSH HOUR AND on the way back IN THE DARK, AND....... IT IS RAINING!

TIP #1 When it is raining in Holland and you have to ride a bike here is what you do: You get wet.

TIP #2 Visualize where you need to go.

Now it should take about 20 minutes for me to bike ride to mijn klas in nederland (my Dutch class, damn I am getting goed (good)) BUT since I am a newbie to riding a bike in Holland I give myself 45 minutes to get there. So I visualize the route I need to take. I do not MapQuest this because there is no way I will be able to remember words like cross over Veechstraat, left on Dordrecht, quick right on Meerwaardeen then another quick right on Tijdschrift etc etc. I tried it once and first off I never seemed to find out where the names of the streets were and then the map (aka post it note) flew out of my hand while I was in the middle of a pack of Dutch Bike commuters (which to me is the equivalent of a herd of stampeding Wildebeests).

TIP #3 Dress appropriately.

I tend to over dress so far for each of my bike rides. I am worried I will be cold so I wear a t-shirt, sweater, a coat, scarf, pants and long knee high socks. At first this is great but if you are going to be riding a bit of a distance on a bike and keeping up with the Dutch Commuter pace (which you are kind of forced to) you can work up a sweat. Each time I have shown up for my Dutch class I have been a bit sweaty and dehydrated.

TIP #3 Addendum - Dress appropriately (or carry deodorant and a bottle of water).

TIP #4 Check the light bulbs.

SO on the first day of class and my first bike ride, just before I was getting ready to leave, I realized I should check the head light on my bike. It didn't work. I panicked. I called Jur. "My light bulb doesn't work. Is that okay? Will I be able to see? What is someone doesn't see me and hits me with their car? Should I wear something bright? Yellow? Neon? What do I do? I need to ride my bike and I do not want to be late on my first day of class! Should I take a taxi?" Secretly I was kind of thinking this is a legitimate excuse for not having to go to school. Jur, calm as always, said "it is okay. But you are supposed to have the light. It is the law and you can get a 24 Euro ticket but just be careful and you should be fine" Well I was already stressed as it is but now I was a paranoid law breaking bike rider, freaked out that I was gonna get busted by the Dutch Coppers. I decide to try to carry a mini flash light that I saw in a tool box a few days before, but being an inexperienced wobbly bike rider (with a book bag over my shoulder making it harder), while trying to look for foreign Dutch street signs, the cops and a now a flash light is not a good combination. Within the first block from my house I dropped the flashlight and chased it, screaming as it began to roll down the street toward a canal. I thought I broke it but it came on. Then on the way back from class, when I really needed the flash light, it started to fade.

TIP #4 (a) If you are stupid enough to have to use a flashlight as a replacement headlight for your bike, check the batteries.

TIP #5 Be aware of your surroundings.

You just have to ride the bike to truly know this but I will give you a short list of things to be aware of that can be a physical danger to you on a bike in Holland.

Other Bicyclists (they are everywhere and fast), Motorcyclists (which really should have their own designated lane if you ask me), Skateboarders (they are dangerous, aggressive and irresponsible), People on Wheelchairs (they feel entitled and will not acknowledge you), Rollerbladers (come out of nowhere and too fast), Parents with strollers! Flocks of pigeons, Ducks, Dog Poop, Puddles, Trolleys (this is a major one and they seem to come from every direction), Buses and of course the Cars. All of the above share the road but we are all sort of separated by little painted lines on the streets. It is terrifying. Truly terrifying. I try to follow the dotted lines but there are so many and I get confused. Plus the cars and buses are so close to me and I wobble.

TIP # 6 NO WOBBLING.

There is no room to wobble. I try to stay as far to the right since I am so slow and wobbly but if I wobble to the right I will hit the curb. Which I have several times.

TIP #7 Don't be ashamed if you fall. Get up, wipe yourself off and act like it never happened. If someone notices just smile and say "I am new."

I do not like being on the left side of the bike lane because that is where all the buses and the motorcyclist come whizzing by you. What if they were to hit my elbow or snag on to my scarf or book bag. I could die. Several times I have screamed out of fear from speeders passing by me on the left so I avoid the left side of the bike lane. Plus the faster bicyclist pass you on the left (show offs!)

The Final Tip

TIP #8 Do Not Be Intimidated!

Sure I feel stupid struggling on my bike, Sure I have ruined a pair of shoes jumping off my bike so many times because I thought cars were close to me and I'm wobbly. Sure whenever I approach an intersection and there are a bunch of bicyclists waiting at the light I jump off and wait several yards behind them to avoid being part of their pack, sure I feel bad not knowing how to shift the gears on my bike yet (Jur says I have to peddle backwards or something like that to shift gears. Oh HELL no!) so, yes, I have to peddle harder then everyone else. It is tiresome to see everyone riding around me so leisurely and I'm panting from peddling so hard like I am in the mountain stage of the Tour de France. Yes, it is degrading to have EVERY other biker whiz by me, especially the couples holding hands that lift their arms over my head to pass me, or those three elderly ladies, one of which threatened me with her cane and snapped something rude to me in Dutch as she circled me before she sped off or even worse are the ones that speed past me carrying two kids, a sack a groceries, on the cell phone, with a bouquet of fresh flowers and a cup of coffee, yeah that one stings a bit. AND yes it is humiliating to have everyone ring their little bike bells as they approach me. What do I have a sign on my back that says DANGER out of control idiot!?!

Well I don't care. I just peddle on. Of course I have snapped on occasion, "ahh shut up. I'm new" or "Go around." And of course I have said countless times "sorry". Once when I jumped off because a car scared me and almost plowed into a pack of passing cyclists I was so panicked that I said something like “I didn't know, I’m American, this is hard!" I am not sure what that was about. The POINT is....... just keep peddling and have fun. I am not sure why but I have found that singing out loud the Witches Bicycle melody from The Wizard of Oz and "saying I'll get you my pretty and your little dog too!", calms my nerves and makes me laugh as I ride. Who cares if all the Dutch people stare at me.

My next goal is to put a mint in my coat pocket and as I ride to try and take the mint out and put it in my mouth. Maybe one day I will be able to hold a cup of coffee. Big dreams.

Oh, one more thing. Apparently, you are supposed to give signals when you are going to turn right or left. But I have found that when I raise my right hand to indicate turning right my bike veers left. I think my bike has bad alignment but I have been told that is not possible and since sudden veering is not good in any direction I just do not use hand signals......yet.

Blog #4 My Bountiful Harvest!

2009-10-11T14:13:00.005+02:00

Goedenmorgen Ya'll! That is good morning in Dutch! It is raining. The 7th day in a row of on again off again rain. Maybe the rumors are true the winters might be long, cold and wet. I was hoping it was an exaggeration. My California Cats are having a more difficult time with it. Murphy (my big fat black cat) is no fool and even if there is mist will not step out in the wet. He is indoor now. Marvin my half deaf cat seems to not get it. He runs out the door and then stands stunned in the garden getting drenched looking every direction but up and seems to be saying "what the hell is going on" then runs in soaked. This happens daily.

As for me I am prepared. I mended my sweaters, darned my socks, am thinking of learning to knit, I made lots of fruit preserves (even though Cathy my Dutch Sister in law) assures me there is fruit in the stores in the winter. What Pumpkin? I have secretly stocked up on can goods and candles. I am not sure why I am doing this. Maybe my years as a Boy Scout and being told to always be prepared. Perhaps it is also because one of the few American shows I can watch here in English is Little House on the Prairie. I have been watching a lot of it and have started to feel like them. I am like a pioneer in a new frontier. Adapting to the land. The other day Cathy brought over a bushel of apples from her trees. No one seemed all that impressed with the bountiful gift. I, on the hand saw so much potential. I saw jars of apple sauce, apple butter, apple pie, candied apples, stuffing with apples, caramel covered apples, dried apples, apple muffins, apple juice, apple cider, Ben and Jerry's Apple Pie Ice cream, Apple jelly, Waldorf Salad and so many other things. The Dutch seem amazed at all the things I could or would do with an apple.

Apples affect me. It was because of apples that I wanted to become Amish. I had a brief period in my teens, where I seriously considered adopting the Amish way of life. I had the privilege of getting to know the Amish people on a stop my family made on a trip to Hershey Pennsylvania. As we drove through Lancaster PA (Amish Land) I saw the Amish picking apples and working in the fileds. They seemed so peaceful and happy. We stopped at an Amish Store called All things Amish. When I walked in I saw shelves and shelves of Amish breads, Amish fruit preserves, Amish butters, Amish cheese and Amish Apples. All things made with Amish love. I was in ecstacy. They had an Amish traditional clothing section and I begged my parents to buy me the straw hat and a pair of Amish boots. I think they thought it was cute that I showed an interest but they had no idea that I had decided, right there, in front of that wall of Amish baked goods, in the All Things Amish Tourist Shop Bakery I had found my people! I had recieved my calling and I was going to be devoting myself to the Amish way of life. I immediately put on the hat and boots. When I got a chance I put on my khakis and my long sleeve light blue dress shirt. I looked as close to Amish as I could with my limited suitcase belongings. What I wished for more than anything was suspenders but I could tell my parents already disapproved of my new way of life and that getting them to buy me suspenders would be next to impossible. Even though my family disapproved I even wore my Amish traditional attire to Hershey Amusement Park. I loved that people looked at me and weren't sure if I was real or not. Was I an Amish renegade breaking from the sect to try some chocolate? I bet they were wondering if I was committing an Amish sin by being here. I think some of them wanted to take a picture with me. I felt like I was an Amish celebrity. Not to worry though I did not let my Amish fame deter me from the glories of Hershey Park and the CHOCOLATE! Let me tell you this Amish TexMex was getting WAY into the chocolate. I fell for Mr. Hershey’s pitch hook, line and sinker and, as quick as it had started, on that day, I gave up my Amish way of life and decided to devote my life to becoming a chocolatier! (that is a whole other chapter of my life.) My parents were so relieved they bought me a 2 lb Hershey Chocolate Bar to celebrate the news!

But now holding Cathy's apples here in Holland I felt a bit Amish again. How could no one be as excited as I am about these apples? These apples just might save our lives and get us through winter.

The first thing I decided to attempt to make was a Dutch Appel (that’s Dutch for apple not a spelling mistake) Taart (very different from good ole American Pie). One of the few things all Dutch seem to like to eat. The Dutch are fussy eaters. Jur told me that I can't make the taart because the apples Cathy gave us were not the right kind of apples. Now, I know that there are many different apples and they are used for different things BUT I tasted these apples, they are free apples, we have a cornucopia of them and they are delicious! Plus when you mix it with cinnamon and sugar and a BUNCH of buttery brown sugar dough it is going to be freakin' delicious no matter which apples you use. Jur and I went back and forth on this.

He says “I tried to make the Appel Taart when I was in the States but the US did not have the right apples."

I said “Oh, I see, so EVERY Apple Pie I ever had in the States was not right then, huh? Is that it?"

He says "no it is just different; these are not good apples."

I, now angry at his disregard of the gift of our live saving apple bounty, snap back "well if you were one of the Ingalls on the Prairie you would be thrilled to have an appel taart made from these apples. Hell, you know what? If you knew anything about the pioneers you would be happy just to have an apple at all!"

I heard him say "what?" as I stomped to the kitchen with my apples. It did occur to me that I may need to cut back on the Little House on The Prairie.

Anyway the Appel Taart turned out great! I loved it! Jur did too although he said it was a bit grainy (whatever the hell that means) and like a stubborn, persistent, never budging, fussy, typical Dutch person, said (in what I believe was a very rehearsed, passive aggressive response).

"Yeah it is good. Good job. Delicious. I would be curious to see what you think of one made out of the apples I was talking about."

Ughhhhhh, ..... well I know The Ingalls would have loved it!

By the way school is fine. I will get you all up to date on that soon and my bike riding adventures as well but I just had to get this winter, food, apple drama off my chest!

(UPDATE Jur admitted he liked my Appel Taart when I noticed a piece was missing and asked him about him about it.)

Blog #3 My new Mantra.......I LOVE Holland (Especially Trixie!)

2009-10-05T15:36:00.003+02:00

I love Holland.... I have nice things to say about Holland...... Holland is good.

This is my new mantra. At least it has been for the last few days and will be for today. Several Dutch people close to me in Holland (Hi Jur and Frits) have read my "Dutch Diary" and they said:

"You should say something nice about Holland."

I said I would.

And then they said "like what?"

Nothing seemed to come trippingly of the tongue. There had to be something. Think Ken! Holland... what have I done in Holland? What have I liked in Holland? Then I shot out some answers which basically sounded like one of the 1000's of postcards I have seen. "The tulips are pretty, I get excited when I see windmills, there are french fries everywhere” (although the Dutch use WAY too much mayonnaise and they pour it all over the fries which ruins it for me.)

WAIT! See? I need to stop that. I seem to have trouble saying only nice things about Holland!

So today I am only going to say only nice positive interesting things about Holland.

To start I would also like to rephrase what I just said about the french fries. Instead I will say the Dutch love french fries and they love mayonnaise. It is very unique for me to eat french fries with so much mayonnaise. There is no shortage of mayonnaise in Holland. I find it amazing that the Dutch eat so much mayonnaise and very few seem to be overweight. The Dutch must have very healthy metabolisms. (Oh, did you know that the Dutch are on average the tallest people in the world? Isn't that interesting?) Anyway back in the States I used to feel guilty about ordering mayonnaise because I was always told it was not good for you but now I have had so much mayonnaise that I do not think I will ever need to special order a side of mayonnaise again. That is great!

The Dutch REALLY do like Herring. Really! Just plain and simple whole Herrings, with scales and all, and some chopped onion on top. It is everywhere. Really everywhere! People all over Holland swallow Herring like Pelicans you would see on a Pier. Although I do not eat herring (or fish, I do not particularly like the taste or smell of fish NOT just Dutch fish so this is NOT a criticism of the Dutch) I have learned to enjoy waiting for my friends at the herring stand and watching them swallow their fish. It is also special to stand there and witness a tourist come and try a herring for the first time. Often I take pictures for people and tell them where to run if they get sick. The whole experience is unique and such a Dutch Treat! Also since the VERY fragrant Herring can be smelled blocks away from a Herring stand and the stands are everywhere, I have learned to kick my dislike to the smell of fish, although I am still very well aware of it. My sensitivity and awareness of Herring has led me become known as a keen Herring Stand Hunter! Just ask me and I can sniff you in the right direction! That is great!

Oh here is a good one! The Dutch government offices are amazing. I have had to do lots of paperwork to obtain my visa to be here. I was dreading going to all these offices during this process. I think years of visits to the DMV, Social Security office, Court Houses (don't ask) and various other government offices in the States have left me with a bad taste. Well when I got to my first Dutch government office it was like Disneyland. It was so clean and colorful. I have always been greeted by a receptionist at every office I have been to. There always seem to be fresh flowers. I was allowed to have food and water in every office. They even had cappuccino machines. Cappuccino machines! I love it. One even had cookies. They ALL have some sort of mints or candy! All of this is truly great. I now love going to government offices! Every time I leave a government office I have accomplished what I needed, quickly, and I leave wired on good coffee with a pocket full of candy! I love it! (Jur says they probably process me faster than most because they don't want me to drink all their coffee or eat all their food. Whatever.)

Here is another wonderful thing about the Dutch. People dress very colorfully in Holland. In fact the national color is orange. Interestingly, when I arrived here I did not own one piece of orange clothing and now, because of wonderful Holland, I have orange house slippers and a checkered shirt that has orange in it! This is big for me considering I generally only like to where black or navy blue (it is slimming)! Anyway, colorful dressing in Holland is great! Soon I may even be wearing pink, neon and floral prints like all the guys do here! Baby steps.

What else? Of course there are the canals. Which are everywhere and beautiful. I love walking along them looking in the water. I am determined to see fish and yet I have never seen one. Not one. Not even a minnow! I know they must be there cause I see people fishing. Although I think fish can smell the herring stands and they know something is up! Anyway looking in the water has allowed me to learn several things! Never park a Smart Car (those new two sitter little econo cars) along a canal. Apparently some people (probably Belgians) discovered it was easy to push them and started tipping Smart Cars into the canals BUT the Dutch government acted swiftly, warned Smart Car owners to not park along canals and cracked down on the Smart Car tippers so this trend has ended. BRAVO to the fast acting government! Also I have learned to always securely lock and protect your bicycle. Apparently, for whatever reason, bicycles often end up in the canals. But this is not a BAD thing! I have seen so many happy Dutch ducks and swans that have converted them in to bike bird nest! It is lovely.

The final thing I will talk about is one of my favorites. Trixie! Bea! Queen Bee! I am living in a country with a Queen and a Royal family. She lives about five miles from me. She is so close! Generally I do not express my excitement about this too much to those near me because they seem to think my excitement is weird or worrisome. I am not sure which. I can't help it, I WANT TO MEET HER! I have visions of Queen Bee and me hanging out and me being one of her confidants. I would be perfect for that. So I first mapped out where her office was and walked a few miles to get there (I was too scared to ride my bike) (I'm still practicing, more on that another day). Anyway she wasn't there. Her guard told me I would know she was there if the Royal flag was flying. I then went home and mapped out where her palace was. Her Palace is not too far from mine (I mean apartment). The Palace is in the Hague Royal Forrest. I then spent the next few days trekking through the Royal Forrest Park trying to find her Palace. When I finally found it, damn, she wasn't there. I asked the guards where she was and when she will be home but they wouldn't answer me. They also made me feel kind of awkward. These were innocent questions. It is not like I asked them if she was mad at me. Or had I offended her? Why was she avoiding me? Would they please give her my letter and tell her it is from Ken the American? I just wanted a chance to see her. I have never been so close to Royalty it just excites me. Gees. I left a bit embarrassed and worried that they might have taken photos of me and created a file.

The other day I was lying in bed and I heard helicopters everywhere, which I had never heard before in Holland (I felt like I was back in LA) so I said to Jur (my VERY Dutch partner) "something bad most have happened? (again helicopters in LA= Murder or police chase or fire)” and he said, with very little enthusiasm "Oh it's just the Queen addressing the nation. Her Coach must be passing by us."

"WHAT? WHAAAAAATTTTT? Why didn't you tell MEEEEE? You KNEW about this? MY GOD!" I jumped out of bed and became hysterical. I started running around the house trying to change out of my pajamas and looking for my orange checkered shirt. One has to be dressed in orange to meet the Queen for the first time! I remember screaming a bunch of things like “Jur, JUR! Give me your orange clothes! ANYTHING! How close is she? I need my Dutch flag! Jur turn on the TV and find out how close she is? WHERE is she? Jur! GET UP OFF THE COUCH AND FIND OUT WHERE THE QUEEN IS! MapQuest her carriage! Can we do that? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME! You know I love Beatrix! DAMN! HELP ME FIND MY OTHER ORANGE HOUSE SLIPPER!

And then.... the sound of the helicopters disappeared. I missed her. It is just as well. I looked all disheveled and would have preferred to have showered for my first visit with the Queen.

I could tell by Jur's face as he looked at me standing half naked in the hallway with a pile of orange things all around me holding my tiny plastic royal Dutch flag that I won at a carnival, that I had lost control and perhaps was a "bit" too excited about the Queen. I wanted to explain to him how I have always felt that I was in some way meant to be Royal. How I relate to them, feel connected to them, like I belong with them. How I could handle all the pressure and appearances, and duties and palaces but..... Again looking at Jur's face (and now writing this) I think it is perhaps best to keep this lifelong personal "belief" to myself. Long story short Holland has a lovely Queen. Her name is Queen Beatrix. I think the Dutch Royals are very interesting and wonderful. Apparently more than most of the Dutch do. My next goal is try and have Trixie (which is what those of us close to her call her) over for tea. I'll keep you posted!

See, there are so many things I like (even love) about Holland! Hell, I didn't even get to the cheese!

Blog #2 Mijn naam is Ken

2009-10-01T15:09:00.001+02:00

First off, for those of you who have expressed concern, Corri, my best Dutch friend with the tracheotomy did not choke or die from the cookie I gave her. I know this because I decided to make her a banana bread. Actually I wanted to make banana nut bread but I know nuts can be card to swallow. So I thought why risk it. I baked her a banana bread and took it over to her. She seemed surprised at my gift and since it was the first time I had ever knocked on her door she seemed startled when she answered and she had also forgotten to bring her microphone. She looked at my bread gift and, as with most Dutch people and my cooking, she seemed to not have a clue what it was.

I said "uh, banana.....broed (I think that is dutch for bread) ... uh, Banana?"

She still seemed confused so I made the sound of a monkey, did a slight monkey pose and then mimed a monkey eating a banana. She got it. I think. If not, she thinks I am some crazy American handing out strange breads and acting like jungle animals. Actually I haven't seen or heard from her since and I know she didn't choke on it because I saw her take her trash out so now I am beginning to think she is either scared of me or she didn't like my banana bread. Which is very rude and ungrateful in my opinion. I know my banana bread is good. I tasted it. As for me being the crazy one, well she came over to mY door crying which is way worse then my monkey dance. I think Corri and I are having our first fight!

MY FIRST DAY OF DUTCH SCHOOL REPORT:

Despite the EXTREMELY stressful bike ride to and from school I made it. Bike riding in Holland is a major issue but I will save that hellish part of moving to Holland for another day. The minute the class started I became aware that I might need to be moved to the Special Ed section of the class. Clearly others in the class have lived in Holland longer and have more experience with the language. The guy next to me from Gambia even stood up ten minutes in to the class and announced that he felt the class was too basic for him and he thought he should transfer to the next level. Oh please, what a show off! AND I had just lent him my extra emergency pen, which he took with him! The first day of school was not starting off well.

The Teacher, whose name is Wytske Versteeg, (yeah, that's right, you see it, YOU try to say it) gave us the exercise to "get to know" the person sitting next to us and then we would have to stand up and tell the rest of the class about them. We should try to say what their name is and where they are from. In DUTCH! I have to use a sentence in Dutch on the first day? My heart started racing. To make matters worse, now that my Gambia, Gambian, Gambianeese or whatever neighbor left the class (with my emergency pen!) my new neighbor was...get this...Jiaojia Xiujang from China. She speaks in some sort of combination of Chinese, Dutch and possibly English AND she was soooooo soft spoken. I was leaning in as close to her as possible and squinting my eyes to hear her which I think made her nervous because she wouldn't look at me. I was starting to panic and develop stage fright. I have about three minutes to come up with 2 grammatically correct Dutch sentences about Jiaojia to say in front of everybody!

I was not at all ready and wasn't even sure how to say the name Jiaojia correctly, but before I knew it, it was my turn. I stood up and said something like

"um, mijn naam is Ken (which wasn't part of the assignment but I was desperate for material) , zjij (she... I think in dutch) naam (name) JiaoJia (which I tried to say in my best Chinese Giao ya Gia or something like that) and JiaoJia..... uh..... China"

I heard a few giggles from the advanced beginners behind me. They were all grouped together in the back corner. I think their leader is this know-it-all guy from India who by the way has lived in Holland for three years already! I have to be nice to him though because he is downloading all the practice CD's for the entire class. So I guess he can make fun of me ......for now.

Anyway the teacher said with a puzzled look "Well, you will get it, and that yes your naam is Ken." Yes, that is what I learned on my first day of Dutch class. My name is Ken. Mijn naam is Ken.

Then Jiaojia stands up and, in this loud clear voice that I NEVER heard before, recites THREE perfectly constructed sentences in Dutch about me. She says my name, where I came from and where I live now.

I just stared at her as she sat down but she continued to refuse to make eye contact with me!

After that I was emotionally and educationally exhausted and I started to hide behind the guy from Turkey in front of me so that the teacher would not call on me. I spent the rest of the class trying to listen but mostly I focused on sneaking tic tac's out of my book bag whenever the teacher turned her back to write on the board. I am not sure what the rules about eating in class are but I didn't want to have anymore trouble on my first day.

Anyway I really can't say I made any friends on my first day at school. Jiaojia and I may (?) be close even though she deceived me and doesn't seem to want to talk to or look at me. I do know her name though, and that she is from China, oh, and, either me offering her a tic tac is offensive, or she very much dislikes tic tacs or she just does not want MY tic tacs.

And one last thing. Class went over 12 minutes. This better not be a regular thing.

Dutch Depression #1 Learning Dutch and making friends!

2009-09-29T13:42:00.001+02:00

Today is a big day in my Dutch Fairy Tale! I start my Dutch lessons today. Apparently, even though everyone here in Holland prefers to speak English and the language is considered difficult and not worth learning (as quoted from various Dutch people when I have informed them about my Dutch class), those close to me here in Holland (the damn family I married into) feel it is important for me to do. They told me they think it will make it easier for me to get a job, it will show I respect Holland and they think I am lonely and need friends

Well, first off I never even thought about getting a job that I had to speak Dutch. I am so American I just assumed I could speak English wherever I worked. I have become so concerned that I have been looking to see if MTV Holland has any openings. They HAVE to speak English, right? Or I know there is McDonald's at least. Second of all it is not a pleasant experience to be sitting in a roomful of Dutch people of all ages from 10-70 discussing your skills and where you should work and doing it in Dutch so you are not quite sure what they are saying about your future! I am 38 years old for God sakes! But I just smile and pretend to listen and generally think about American TV shows I will be able to find on YouTube when I get home.

As for making friends it is true I need them. At the moment the only person I socialize with is my neighbor Corri who is an elderly women and lonely like me. The major problem is she does not speak English at all (well very little, words like cigarette and drink, gin) I think she might have a slight drinking problem but she is very sweet. The other issue is she has a tracheotomy. So it is very difficult for me to understand her no matter what language she is trying to speak. Also since she has to hold her microphone thingy pantomime is out of the picture. I rely heavily on pantomime to communicate here in Holland. I credit my skillful pantomime communication ability to my MFA in Theater Arts. Of course none of these obstacles seem to phase Corri as she electronically tells me all sorts of things and I just stare at her nodding and shaking my head, which ever my impulse tells me is the correct thing to do. One time she showed up at my door slightly crying and depressed. I could smell the alcohol as I gave her a hug. I tried to listen but I had no idea what was upsetting her so I gave her a cookie. I became paranoid that was not a good thing to do. I am so unfamiliar with the life of a tracheotomy. Can she choke on a cookie? I want to be neighborly (and American) and bake her something but I am not sure if she can eat?

I have been meaning to google about that.

Anyway she is very sweet but I will admit every time I leave a conversation with Corri I find myself laying on my bed (sometimes in the fetal position) thinking about all my friends back in the States. I wonder what they are doing?

They are sleeping Ken it is 9 hours behind Dutch time, they are sleeping!

So I generally I end up watching Wie is de Chef? My favorite Dutch reality show. I have no idea what they are saying but they cook for each other and one of the four is a real chef. I like to look at the pretty food and guess who I think the chef is!

So ALL RIGHT, maybe I do need friends. Maybe they will be made in the class. I am preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. I will keep you posted. Maybe I will have a new friend tonight!