Let's get this party started

Last week was insanely packed (in a good way) and there's still so much I have to blog about. But that will have to wait, because *happy dance* it's my birthweek! 

Marlon sure knows how to get a party started, at least in my book. He kicked off my birthday celebration by treating me to a little somethin'-somethin' at Dutch Design Week in Eindhoven. 

And that is your sneak peek at Dutch Design Week. That's about all I can manage for now, but there will be more (lots more) when I get back. Promise.

In the meantime, I'm taking off to celebrate The Big 3-0 with a long-awaited trip to Istanbul. I'm excited to be crossing another big one off my lifelong travel wishlist. Ta ta for now and see you next week!

Date night

One of the things I loved about summer was the fact that the days seemed to never end. The sun would set as late as 10 p.m., and you would get lovely "late afternoon" light like this at 7 or 8 p.m. 

These days, the sun sets earlier each day. The photo above was taken a little before 6 p.m. The sun disappears from the sky by around 6:30.

But you know what? Part of me actually welcomes the return of night.

I only realized that when Marlon and I went out to for dinner and a movie one Friday night. It was a nice change, because we don't eat out as much as we used to. Dining out here tends to be expensive, which is never a guarantee that it's going to be good. We also tend to stay home a lot to save up for, or recover from, travels.

We went to Rainarai, an Algerian resto on the Prinsengracht bordering the Jordaan.

The atmosphere of this small corner restaurant is eclectic and laid-back, with quirky details like these schoolhouse chairs with African motifs drawn on them.

Service is turo-turo style. As Marlon and I were talking about how it reminded us of home, the girl behind the counter asked us if we were Filipino. Turned out she had visited the Philippines while backpacking around Southeast Asia. She said that of all the places she had visited on her six-month trip, her favorite by far was the Cordilleras: Banaue, Batad, Benguet and Sagada. Wow. To think I've never been to those places myself.

We ate dinner by candlelight while watching the sunset reflected on the windows of the canal houses. And that was when I realized I actually missed nightfall.



While walking to the movie theater, we passed the fairgrounds set up in front of the Royal Palace on Dam Square. We looked at the Ferris wheel and thought: "Hey, this is something we've never done together!" So we did.

We had lots of time to spare before the movie, so instead of having dessert or lounging around in the cinema lobby, we decided to take a walk. It turned out to be a wonderful idea. Because we don't very often go out in the evenings, I still find myself so surprised and delighted by how magical Amsterdam can become at night.

We strolled around the narrow streets and canals in the Centrum, or old center. When I think of the old center, I think red light district and coffee shops, so I rarely go there except to take visitors to see it. Otherwise, sex and weed is not a big draw for me. 

But night can blot out all that, and it takes on a different character. Shadows soften and hide, and night lights flatter a city's face.

A darkened shop window turns into a mystery that beckons us to take a closer look. 

The play of light and shadow can make almost anything lovely, almost poetic. In the daytime, would we have stopped to look? 

Little red sparkling hood

The color red seems to be everywhere these days. It's taking over buildings and apartments...

... and popping out of bushes. I didn't realize so many of the trees and plants I see around me everyday would suddenly produce these bright red berries come fall. Yes, I'm a fall newbie.

All this red percolating in my subconscious came to a boil one afternoon after watercolor class. As I was walking through the centre of Haarlem, I was drawn to another jolt of red—this time in the form of a big SALE sign at WE, a local high street chain. Inside, I found this red dress with a skinny belt and promptly realized: I don't own a single article of red clothing!

With 50% off everything in the store, it was easy to remedy the situation. So now I have a red dress.

I remember reading somewhere that red and leopard print go together, so it seems my leopard print flats have found a new playmate. But so far my favorite way to wear bright red has been with gray. I've worn it with my gray wool blazer from Uniqlo (above) to go to my weekly ladies' lunch, and with a gray fluffy angora cardigan for a Sunday visit to the zoo. 

I've also found a new use for the bronze beaded fascinator I like to wear with this dress. It turns out a headband is perfect for keeping the hood of my rain jacket in place when it's too windy for an umbrella. 

I got a few odd looks on the street, but I shrugged them off. Sparkling in the rain is worth it!

A pop of (water)color

I'm usually pretty impatient when it comes to making things. If it can't be done in one sitting, I tend to rush it or just give up altogether. So I consider it a big achievement to have spent three consecutive Tuesdays working on a painting for my watercolor class. I finished it last week, left it to dry in my teacher's studio in Haarlem, and finally brought it home!

This is the first painting that I've produced out of this class that I enjoyed doing from start to finish and am really, truly happy with. My first few lessons were a little awkward and unsure; with this work, I feel I've hit my stride and grown in confidence and technique.

I've gotten quite a few compliments from Penny on this, and it's been great to walk into the studio on Tuesday afternoons and find my other classmates—my geriatric barkada, LOL—gathered around my work and talking enthusiastically about it.

My favorite bits are the flowers, naturally. I love how the red flowers really pop, thanks to the contrast of the dark green around it. (I think I'm getting better with contrast!) I did the pink flowers by dipping a rough natural sponge in some green paint and blotting it quickly on a wet, watered-down red wash.

Penny remarked that my style is turning out to be more illustrative than painterly—nothing wrong with that, just a matter of style. To help soften the whole painting, she suggested painting over the stark white background with a quick wash of pale green blurred with lots of water.

Voila, the finished work!

Do you like it? Tell me what you think!

Fall uniform

If I hadn't moved to Amsterdam, I would never have realized that I had a raincoat-shaped hole in my wardrobe. After getting soaked in the rain one stormy August night and getting sick the week following that, I decided that "summer" was as good a time as any to buy a rain jacket. 

The most important criteria: it had to have a hood, be waterproof, and cover my legs at least partially. It took a couple of afternoons combing the shops, I found this navy blue McG rain jacket at De Bijenkorf. I chose it for the semi-tailored preppy feel, as well as for the soft jersey lining and the cute little grosgrain belt that ties in a bow at my waist. I spent more on it than I had hoped to, but I felt better forking over the moolah knowing I'd get lots of wear out of this jacket. 

And I was right. This jacket already feels like a uniform, with all the rain we've had here. Although I must say I felt slightly odd wearing it out for the first time. It just didn't seem very... well, very me. Even Marlon gave a thoughtful hmmm the first time he saw me in it. 

This is my template outfit these days. I've gotten used to the rain jacket; I figure feeling "slightly odd" is a million times better than feeling downright cold, wet and miserable. Now that the temperature is on a steady downward trend, I've replaced my usual black stretchy cotton leggings with fleece leggings from HEMA, which feel awesome—like my legs are getting a nice warm hug.

The other part of my fall uniform is these brogue-slash-granny boots I scored on my day trip to Maastricht. They reminded me of the brown granny boots I used to own, which my mom brought back from Europe in the heyday of grunge. Ah, the Nineties.

Except my old granny boots didn't have the brogue-ish look of this pair, nor did they have this combination of black, brown and gray leather. Now resisting a pair of boots is always hard for me. But boots that go with everything? Oh hell yes.

Besides, it's fall. Lots of rain, getting cold and all that. I'm just being practical. Right? 

Pale October

Now that I've finally let go of September, it's time to say hello to my first official fall!

Though autumn is known for its bright and fiery palette, I welcomed the start of the season with uncharacteristically muted hues. 

When I spotted this bouquet of pale, almost dusty lavender roses at the corner bloemenwinkel (flower shop), I simply couldn't resist. I've never seen roses this shade before.

Flowers are one of the things I really love about living in Holland. On days that are just totally bleargh, they are a small, but very welcome reminder that here, something new, interesting and different is always—sometimes literally—just around the corner.

A toast to September

I know, I know. October is halfway done and here I am posting about September. 

I still have a bit of a hangover from last month. Although fall had officially begun in September, we were blessed with what is known as an Indian summer: two straight weeks of seasonally misplaced, blissfully warm and sunny weather that stretched all the way into the first couple of days of October. It was the summer Amsterdam didn't have. The whole city felt positively festive, like it was drunk on sunshine. Para silang nanalo sa giyera.

The last weekend before autumn weather officially kicked in was absolute bliss. Marlon and I hosted a dinner at home, with four other expat couples. It was actually warm enough to have cocktails on the balcony, so my friend Leigh suggested we make mojitos. The next day, it was so warm and muggy and lazy that we dragged our air mattress onto the balcony, sprawled out with some books, and made a couple more mojitos with the leftover ingredients from the previous evening. Mmmm.

Here's what I learned from Leigh's mojito tutorial:

Into a tall glass, put two teaspoons white sugar, a handful of fresh mint leaves, a little slosh of white rum (we used Bacardi) and two lime wedges, or half a lime cut into two. Crush the lime wedges until juice comes out (I used an ice cream scooper!). Fill with soda water and ice. Clink glasses and enjoy.

I'm raising my glass to September—you were absolutely, unexpectedly fantastic. Cheers!

Getting the boot

Have you ever realized you had a completely blank schedule on a beautiful, sunny Saturday and thought to yourself: "Omigod! It's absolutely perfect! Today is the day! We can finally get the boot!" 

Probably not. But that's because you didn't know that boot is the Dutch word for boat!

In this city of canals, one of the most popular weekend pastimes is boating. With large cushions and blankets lining the deck, wine glasses in hand, in their preppy-chic Ralph Lauren/Tommy Hilfiger-type sailing getups (on cloudy days) or shirtless (on sunny days), a fluffy dog or two peeking out from the prow, the Dutch are experts in taking cozy chic to the canals. And yes, many of them actually own their own boats. I've seen so many happy Dutchies on boats since spring that I've developed an entirely new form of envy... boat envy. 

I've actually had a standing reservation at Mokumboot, a boat rental company two blocks from my house, since April. Weather had been so uncooperative, especially through our crappy rainy summer, that I feared I would never get to use it. Whenever I had the odd sunny day in my sights, boats would get fully booked up a week in advance.

But September gave us a stunning gift: a rare, two-week stretch of blissful sunshine and good vibes. So on one glorious Sunday morning, the planets aligned. And we could finally, finally get the damn boot.

Marlon and I showed up at the Mokumboot dock at 11 in the morning to pick up our boat. I actually got us out of the driveway, so to speak before handing the wheel to my college friend Jec. She moved here with her boyfriend KD for work, and I'm lucky to have a Pinay friend I already know pretty well!

Steering is not as easy as the Dutchies make it look. You need to keep the steering wheel going pretty much continuously, constantly going back and forth between left and right, to keep the boat going in a straight line. Also, being an electric boat as opposed to a gas-fueled boat, our top speed was pretty pathetic. But it was all good. We were all just ridiculously excited to finally be on a boat!



Jec's boyfriend KD took over as captain of the ship for the first half of our four-hour boat ride. Marlon got started chilling the wine...



... while I unpacked our picnic basket, filled with snacks for grazing: chips, cheese, olives, bread and a highly addictive truffle tapenade from the Albert Cuypmarkt.

I also served up a vegetarian lunch of fusilli with roasted broccoli and walnuts.

We set off from the Olympic quarter, which is our neighborhood, in the direction of Amsterdam's famous canal belt. Along the way, autumn waved its cheery greeting from the apartments of the Old South.

Passing the Rijksmuseum, or the national museum, was a signpost telling us to expect very busy waters up ahead. 

 

As soon as we hit the busy Leidseplein area, huge tourist boats started coming at us from every direction. Boat police patrol these busier waterways in the center of town.

It's not unlike being a student driver and finding yourself on the South Super Highway-Sucat interchange for the first time. Except everything moves much more slowly, you have no idea how people will signal for turns, and collisions with large vessels will be documented by the sound of fifty cameras clicking. Chalk that last bit up to experience.

Having run the stressful gauntlet that was Leidseplein, our entry into the famous Grachtengordel, or canal belt, was rewarded with some postcard views... like this one along Prinsengracht. The Anne Frank House lies just behind Westerkerk, on the right.

Sailing along all four major canals that encircle Amsterdam's old center—Singel, Herengracht, Keizersgracht, and Prinsengracht—is something that pretty much all tourist boats do on the standard canal tour. But many of them won't bother into the smaller canals intersecting these major waterways—which, shaded with trees and lined with cafes, have a quiet charm that made all of us breathe more deeply and contentedly.

Heading even further away from tourist territory, we took our little boat into the tiny canals of the Jordaan. Formerly home to Amsterdam's working-class immigrants, this neighborhood is now one of the hippest (and most expensive) places to live in the city. Its narrow canals are off-limits to the big tourist boats.

And as we came up to this alarmingly low bridge, we all realized why.

Marlon turned off the engine. Drifting ever so slowly toward the bridge gave the four of us time to ponder a short list of possible fates, which consisted of a) getting stuck, and b) sailing clean through.

"We're going to get stuck!" cried Jec. "No, I think we'll make it," I objected, discreetly grabbing my phone and tapping out the first few digits of the Mokumboot helpline... just in case I was wrong.

Drawn to our obvious (and by now, rather loud) distress, an old man in a battered coat tottered up to the bridge. "Geen problem," he said with an amused grin and a vaguely encouraging wave of his hand. "No problem!"

"O, no problem daw sabi ni lolo! He must know what he's talking about, right? He's Dutch!" I said.

Asserting the ultimate faith in the innate goodness of humankind, Marlon switched the engine back on to its lowest setting. Which left nothing else for us to do but plaster ourselves to the floor of the boat and laugh like hyenas on crack.

It was the longest minute of my Amsterdam life.

As we emerged, laughing hysterically, nerves shredded but boat and bumbunans intact, lolo waving cheerfully from the bridge, I knew we had just made another awesome Amsterdam memory.

We sure could have used one of these, though!

Apart from our hilarious/harrowing encounter with the bridge, plus an unexpected stretch of large choppy waves on the Overtoomse Sluis, it was smooth sailing all the way home. 

Water seems to be the Dutch element. They seem happier, warmer, more relaxed and more gracious in their boats. People in passing boats will joke with each other, like this dad who played at throwing his squealing toddler over to us. Naturally, we pretended to prepare to catch the little boy. Everyone smiles and waves at each other, sharing good vibes in passing. 

We might not share the confidence or adeptness with which this boat-loving culture navigates the waters. That can only come from a relationship with the water that begins from childhood, and is woven into the very history of a people.



But the sunshine sparkling on the water, the sound of the water lapping gently against the boat, the calming stillness in in its movement—these are available to all.

So though we are not adept in the intricacies of boat and water, we can partake in their pleasures... even just for a little while.