{The Dutch in 9}

So, at long last, (life and its many adventures got in the way!) we have 'The Dutch in 9'.  Why the number nine? I am not too sure, if only to keep it as concise and practical as the people of this country we are featuring.

You can call it "the Netherlands" or "Holland", this land that has occupied fairy-tale status in the minds of North Americans for so long. (Thanks to the good literary help of "Hans Brinker", "The Wheel on the School" and "The Boy and the Dike"... but more on that later!) However, "The Netherlands" is the official name of the country, whereas "Holland" is actually a province. You won't get into too much trouble by using either/or, but you will be more correct if you apply the country's proper name.

If you had in your mind's eye a land over-flowing with blond children in hats and caps, their rosy cheeks bursting with life and their blue eyes sparkling as they klompen their way over wee cobble-stone streets with hunks of cheese in hand, daily rides on calm canal boats, arms full of everlasting tulips while father works the windmill and mummy makes the golden cheeses... you will be disappointed!

I was... but only for a time.

It is still a country of interest, with a broad history... you just have to dig a bit for it. The windmills are there with 1035 of them being protected by the government. The dikes are there but they are not the flimsy brick kind that a wee boy can stop up with his index finger, thus saving an entire country. (There you have it... "The Boy and the Dike" is a fake. Sad day.) The famous cheeses and tulips all have their proper places and fascinating histories and facts. There are many Dutch children with blond hair and there are lots of beautiful blue eyes, but the klompen are usually reserved for the farmers.

Please keep in mind as you read the 9, that this is a very, very small glimpse into a diverse culture and a country that although the size of Maryland, USA, packs more traditions and dialects in its pinky finger than some cultures hold in their hand. Here we gooooo...

{The Dutch in 9}

1. Koffie Tijd (Coffee Time): 

It's good... and it's expected. It is not as punctual as the British tea, nor as filling as the German kuchen, but it satisfies and is a tradition that spans the generations. It is hospitality at its finest and coffee at its best. It is usually offered promptly upon your entrance to a Dutch dwelling and it is part of the Dutch agenda. Koffie tijd is sacred to stroop wafels and cookies, and other delectable bits. It is a tradition that can be applied to strangers and distant acquaintances (with the addition of the famous Dutch weather conversation), or to a cosy gathering of friends and the talk can turn to work and school. The best of the Dutch hostesses will keep your cup full and the cookie tin forever in your reach... the worst, well... this is where the legendary Dutch frugality rears its ugly head and you are the worse for it. However, no matter the time, day, or people, koffie tijd just requires good coffee, mugs, a tea box, clear mugs for tea, a tea bag holder, small spoons, sugar pot, milk jug, cookie tin, stroop wafels, and most importantly, hospitality. It's as simple as that.

2. Vakantie (Vacation): 

Many of you may be asking why vakantie would be included on this "inclusive" list... but you wouldn't be asking why if your very life was centric upon this word. While you enjoy a koffie tijd (the mini, daily form of vakantie) it is not uncommon to discuss vacationing plans with your fellow-coffee drinkers. This annual (or bi-annual) occurrence plays a large role in the year of the working Dutchman. To live without a vacation is culturally unsound! With an average of 25 vacation days per year (with many people possessing 30 or more) and a special part of the salary going towards this relaxation and rest, it is safe to say that this is an important part of the culture. Come summer-time, the roads of Europe flood with yellow license plates and campers and every camp-ground gets to hear the mother-tongue spoken over a morning cup of coffee and a bakery bun.

3. Brood (Bread):

Young babes are fed it as part of their first solid food regimen. It is often what is for breakfast and lunch. My husband even goes so far (resting solidly in his Dutch education) as to express firm belief in its health benefits. Because of its popularity and in its proper place as a staple in the Dutch diet, there are whole shelves in the supermarket devoted to its toppings. Hagelslag comes in ten different varieties and there are a plethora of spreads that are so delicious that you wonder why the Dutch aren't wider than they are! (but we'll deal with that next...)  Creativity also plays a role as cookies, different breads, vegetables, fruits and other (sometimes terrifying!) combos are placed upon this baked wonder. Eetsmaakelijk!   

4. Fiets (Bicycles):

The Flat-lands were made for biking with their level grounds and the towns in close proximity. It would seem that it is the bikers that rule this land. With the traffic laws (and personal, unspoken ones!) giving rights and privileges to the biker, a perfect, cheap and healthy wheel-world has been created. (I would like to take this moment to say, however, that the biking Amsterdammers need to take it a bit easier on the pedestrian population! Perhaps?) It is not uncommon for a Dutch child to bike 15 km both ways to school. Not surprisingly, the Dutch don't have many problems with child obesity because as fast as the children eat their bread and toppings, they burn off it all off on the beautiful bike paths of their homeland. It is the main form of transportation for many people. The government also gives rewards to those who take the bike to work. This robust tradition has produced a nation of healthy, tall people with keen biking-know-how and extraordinary calves. 

5.  Schaatsen (Ice skating):

Aside from biking, the Dutch are a very sportive nation and take pride in their korfball medals, soccer players and so many other areas where they exceed and succeed. But I have never seen a Dutchman's chest (or woman's for that matter!) puff out so much in honest pride as when the word "ice" is mentioned. Strange, for a temperate land that rarely sees the minus mark on the thermostat! However, it is a wonder to behold the ownership the Dutch place upon this winter occurrence and the winter sport that accompanies it. The delight that beams from this nation in a time of frozen temperatures could almost melt the very ice that they treasure so! Hordes of Hollanders flock to the skating rinks of their rivers and canals and here on the long, long stretches of water, often created by their own hands, champion skaters are born and bred. The beloved Elfstedentocht, a beautiful, traditional race of 200 km going through eleven Frisian cities, has only occurred fifteen times in the last 100 years because of the rarity of perfect ice. However, despite the sea climate that shortens the life-span of Holland's ice-ways, by the time a Dutch child is three, the steadying chair can be taken away from in front and they are off with the best of them.

6. Water:

The Netherlands (the low-lands) is called that for a reason and because of this, the Dutch have a strong relationship with water, for better or worse. They are famous for it! They have a world-wide reputation (aside from some other unflattering ones!) for their manipulation and management of the sea. The country's lowest point below sea-level is 7 m. (23 ft.) Take a drive through Flevoland and your car is on land that used to be covered by salty waves not too terribly long ago. Dikes border sea-side towns with sheep grazing on their grassy hills. Those who live in the homes along the dikes faithfully trust in the strength and ingenuity that has kept the sea from its territory for generations now. In many ways, water is what has made the Netherlands what it is today. Even the many dialects of its twelve provinces owe some of their diversity to water. Islands that used to be, are no more and their cultures that used to be separate from each other, are now joined by land.

7. Sinterklaas: 

All I can say, is that if you aren't a Dutch child on the 5th December, you are missing out! This is the time when the famous Sinterklaas, (the Dutch equivalent of Father Christmas and Santa) and his faithful helper Zwarte Piet make their rounds. If you're a good child, be prepared to find your shoe full of goodness and perhaps some other presents will find their way into your hand. But as tradition has it, the naughty ones are taken off to Spain and then who knows what! It is a time of the year devoted to pepernoten, speculaas, and other Dutch sweets that only make their appearance with the Sint. Everyone knows the Sinterklaas liedjes and adults and children alike sing them out to welcome everyone's favourite person. If you are lucky enough, you will get to see him as he gets off his boat and mounts his white horse on Dutch soil. The whole tradition has an air of old-world excitement that is refreshing and is hard to find in today's over-stimulated society. I think the Sint and his black helpers would do everyone a bit of good, the world over!

8. Gefrituurd (Fried foods): 

One can't help mentioning this Dutch speciality when every household owns a deep-fryer. Again, it is my firm belief that the saving grace of this nation's waist-lines are their bike paths and inherited love of sport. Patat, krokketten, balletje mayo and a wealth of other fried delicacies are served primarily with mayo, and curry, ketchup and peanut sauce are optional choices. Kibbeling, battered fried fish, was our Saturday lunch of choice with its perfect side of creamy garlic dip. However it is the olliebollen that win the fryer its true place in the home with their hot, golden balls that float to the oily surface every New Years. Sprinkle some poeder suiker on that!

9. Gezelligheid: 

There is no translation for this all-encompassing word: gezellig.Yes, it could mean cosy or pleasant and imply community and friendship... but it goes much deeper than that. It is strange that one word bottles in eight letters the attitude of a country and the aim of its people. It covers koffie tijden, vakanties, Sinterklaas and more. The only thing that I can say is that it has to be experienced to be understood. 

                                                                           *****

Thank you for joining along, patient reader. This is meant to be a recognition and tribute to a little country that was home for a time but means all the more to me because it birthed and bred the dearest person in my life. Someday (hopefully!), when we have our own little Dutch people running around in our home, I look forward to sharing with them and learning with them more about one of their homelands, its people and history.

Heading home from the store...

Amsterdam

Tasting the fried delights of the Febo

An Elburg pasture

The Dutch flag in tulips

The Afsluitdijk: a 20 km road across the Ijselmeer

A lone skater on the Veluwemeer

The Red Tower in Maastricht

Tourists meeting the Sint for the first time

Sunset in Amsterdam

Contentment

Paul, the apostle, once said, " I have learned in every situation, to be content."

I clearly remember striving for contentment, the summer following my first year of college. Contentment that is, that elusive satisfaction found in true, holistic thankfulness. I wanted to be rid of my restlessness.

One morning, with sea breezes combing my curls and my pen and journal in hand, I realized that I had obtained it! Joy! I, at the tender age of 20, had reached a peace as to my lot in life and what Paul had said didn't seem to be so terribly hard after all.
However, after I enjoyed its presence for a week or so, it disappeared to my great consternation and discouragement. And then it returned... only to yet again, vanish! After this strange contentment tide cycle had washed the confused shores of my mind several times, I turned frustratedly to my mother, a wise woman who has learned to read all the words, not just those that seem applicable.

"I was content!" I bleated into the phone. "And Paul said it was learnable." "Yes, sweetie, but he said in every situation. Do you really think he conquered his dissatisfaction, frustrations and restlessness in one moment of time?" *thoughtful silence* "No... I guess not." "Well then, how many situations did he go through, learning the same lesson each time?"

Then I saw why it is the challenge that it is. The choice in every circumstance. And so, we go on...

We are really blessed here as we wake up each morning, looking out on the spire of Untermuenkheim's church in our little scoop of German village cuddled among the hills of forest and farmland. We cannot get over the beauty of the nature around us. A twelve kilometer, Day of Pentecost hike showed us even more of this land's beauty. But as usual, little things come around that challenge our gratitude... more specifically, my gratitude. For instance, a couch... now that is small! Yet when we received a sofa (after living for a couple of weeks sitting in the bedroom and in the kitchen) only to find that it had been previously owned by a smoker and had inherited cigarette fumes, I was challenged. Oh, Paul, how much I have to learn! It was not persecution or sickness or death. It was a couch. (albeit one that graciously shared its stink.) The long and short of the story is that we had to ditch it after a long sun bath and liberal sprinklings of coffee grounds, vinegar and baking soda. We were without a couch again. Yet, its absence put us to mind of all the people in the world who go without so much more and we found contentment for what we do possess. We have so much. You can be happy without a couch, world! Now, however, thanks to the kindness of our sweet landlords, a neighborhood wide request was made and now we have a low settee that we can sit ourselves upon. How much more we appreciate sitting in the living room, after the absence of that luxury!

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. Phil. 4:12 NIV

Beyond couches and hikes, we are enjoying our new life here. Some semblance of routine is forming and it is a delightful feeling. We are hoping now to find opportunities to meet more people and form new connections.

However, as we return to the Netherlands for a friend's wedding this coming weekend, we are reminded again of the flat-lands. And on that theme we would like to introduce the topic of our next post: The Dutch in Nine 

It will be a celebration of and a closer look at the country that birthed the most amazing man that a girl could ask for! Until then, tot ziens... Auf Wiedersehen!

A nesting stork

St. Bavo's: Haarlem

Amsterdam Centraal by moonlight

The cows of Holland

Boats' masts in the port of Elburg

Amsterdam

Summer-time canal

Old-fashioned power

A sloot at sunrise

Sinterklaas comes into harbor

The best of Holland (on the left-hand side!)

Germany

A bit of time has passed between our time amongst the tulips and wind-blown packing preparations to our new life here in Germany. This past week marked a full month for us here in the land of wurst and pretzels. We made it with the help of caring friends, kind hosts and the grace of God.

Peter is now working for our friend in his landscaping business, and is doing splendidly. I am more than half-way there with my immigration process and hope to find a job within the near future. German is arising from amongst the shambles of the English, French and Dutch languages that lie drooping in my brain, while Peter with the help of his Germanic background, is the main communicator in the family. 

Regularity and rhythm are slowly, but surely returning to our lives and with it, consistent and loving updates. We shall let some pictures convey a bit of the past few weeks and show you a wee peep into our new home-land.

A farm house in Ubrigshausen, the town of our Mogler friends

The May-pole of Ubrigshausen

Tradition meets "auslaender" (foreigner) at the Cheese Market

Alpine horn concert

German cheeses

The Frinsels in the ruins of Limpurg, an old fortress 

The walk-way to our new, little place

An afternoon in Schwaebisch Hall

A doorway at the Comburg monastery

Italian ices with Joey and Kristyn

The view from Waldenburg

The Comburg monastery, as viewed from Limpurg

A Spring sunset

Untermuenkheim, our new home

A bike-ride adventure with Kristyn

                                     

Peter und Sarah

Colour

In the midst of boxes and farewells and cleaning and storage (in other words, anything that has the steely shine of "MOVING" glinting off of it!) it is nice to take the time to catch up on some cosy, family news. Caught in a twisted warp of a flu bug that incapacitated me for quite a bit, I am now back in full swing with more appreciation for life after my absence from it. My Dutchman is quite the nurse and the fact that he is so handsome makes being sick that much better.

We had a new arrival in the family a couple of weeks ago. Peter and I are button-popping proud. Meet "Eva" :

We thought "Eva" (or Dutch for "Eve") suited the first car for either of us. She is a '98 Ford Fiesta, with 81,000 km on her and runs beautifully.  She really is a gift from the Giver of gifts.

So, we note the passing of the era of bikes and horses in the Frinsel history. (although those two forms of transportation will still retain their popularity due to outstanding gas prices...)

Everything is wrapping up for us here in Holland and my List of Lasts (my family is quite conscious of and intimate with this certain List) has begun. I have found however a special something that takes the sting out of this sad inventory: enjoyment. It is much easier to let go of something when it has been truly appreciated and enjoyed, than knowing that there was more and that more will never be again. The ache of regret is the worst ache of all. 

As we entered our final week here, the wheels of "Eva" took us to a famous national sight that gave us refreshment and energy for the times ahead. The Keukenhof is home to an overwhelming 7 million flower bulbs that are in their glorious peak during the month of April. If you have ever visited the Louvre of Paris or any another museum that is so luxurious in its vast collection of art, you will know the feeling that the Keukenhof's natural collection bestows. There is so much beauty around you that you can't take it in, you know you can't, and your brain feels guilty of the charge. You just have to soak it up and curl your toes in it.
I was so surrounded by colour (which is a boring word for such a brilliant thing!) that it quite overwhelmed me. I raptly asked Peter what it would be like to actually drink colour. He vaguely replied that he had heard some where that it wasn't good for you. Yes, my artistic soul is joined to a beautifully practical one. (He later admitted that it might taste nice...)

After our dip into the world of colour, "Eva" took us to the coast, where we had a bracing walk along the Dutch shore in the blast of a north wind. That same wind blew out some of the staleness that life and practicality has crusted in our minds and went on to fluff up the edges of our souls. And now... we are ready for the Move. We head out this Saturday to Germany. We do not as yet have an apartment or a job, but we are living and moving by God's grace always. Added to that, (as someone recently told us) our story, "will make a very romantic tale one day of how two people in love didn't let distance or social barriers hinder their bid for a wonderful life together." How is that for adding glamour to the seemingly mundane? 

Now, here is some colour for you to take a dive in! 

                                            

To come... An Ode to the Lowlands...

Savouring

The sun has disappeared again for a time and I knew we should never have washed our winter apparel for storage in March. It happens every year and yet, every year I clean and put away with the same early, foolish hopes. However, in the end, I think that is what makes life what it really is. Does anyone else get a rush by putting away the old to welcome in the new? I often find myself caught between holding tightly on to things past (memories, places, people and such) and running head-long into the future with all the impatience of a toddler. It is then that I discover myself forgetting to savour the present. How often it is disregarded, our current existence in the moment! The very thing that creates the memories of the past and gives us a foretaste of the future: it's such a beautiful thing. It's like a cat napping on the couch with sleepy head bobbles and soft piano music playing through a little house in the Netherlands on a chilly Monday morning.

Peter and I have been endeavouring to appreciate and live in the moment of late. We have to move on, and because of that, we see everything that we have built up and familiarized ourselves to, these past six months, in a new light. Our next destination as a couple will be an entirely different culture, language and life.

                                                                         
                                                                                Germany.

We plan to live there for at least the next four to six months to work and live. It isn't the easiest thing to give up everything here in the lowlands to move to a place that, even though is only six hours away, is so different. It is our greatest hope that our little friend, Pippin-cat, will be able to make the journey with us but that hangs in the balance with future apartment rules. We will have to give up our first little house here and no longer will Peter be the able cultural translator and language genius. However, at the same time, we look forward to it! It is an exciting time and we are entering this challenge and adventure together. We are also terribly pleased to have our friends, Mogi and Kristyn, as our new neighbors.

Packing will begin soon. It is almost second nature and the only thing to be dreaded is the hollow sound of an empty house. Goodbyes will be said, with the hope that "hello" will be said again in six months time when we plan to return to Holland. (Or "There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins" as Peter likes to say...)

So, with the music still playing, and the kitty still peacefully sleeping, (now with clean paws and belly) and the chilliness of this Monday morning still seeping through the doors and windows of our wee home, the present continues. The future comes, but this moment was enjoyed.

The Frinsels in Germany

Change

 Spring has finally made its debut in the Western Hemisphere and kitty cats who nap in the rays of warm sunshine and white-skinned girls who long to produce myriads of freckles are now happy again.

However the warmth and light moves the blood in mysterious ways and many are faced with what is affectionately termed "Spring Fever". Peter and I were not overwhelmed with white snow banks and Arctic temperatures this year in our soggy Dutch winter, but I still felt a feverish flow coursing through my veins and find myself itching to do... SOMETHING. Change something, renew something, create something.

Peter is a patient man.

He gave his consent in response to my feminine request to get a hair cut, (was that a smile I saw beginning in the upper left-hand corner of his mouth?) while patiently pointing out, "You just want to move again." And he is right. I do. When one has moved every Spring for the past four years, an inner-clock for change develops... even if you don't truly want to.

It is going to be a time of change for us again and because of that, I have decided to update on this blog every week. No more news-less reflections that are few and far between. We plan to continue a more purposeful "pointing" (read first blog for definition!) with news, reflections, plans and direction. These past six months (the happy half-a-year date of Being One that we celebrate today!) have been topsey-turvey, lovely, adventurous, hard and beautiful all rolled into one. Rest assured that the next six show no signs of change and we want to share with you what God is doing in us, through us and around us. Feel free to communicate with us and for those who dearly love (as I do!) a smooth envelope in the mail that tears open deliciously to reveal hand-written lines, provide your address and let us know.

Oh! And for those of you who were wondering, I opted out of the hair cut. Bought a bottle of cheap nail polish instead (something I never do!) and content myself with rearranging the house and dreaming up new projects. Happy Spring and bring on the change!