Paint it black

Spring is finally here, and my own personal travel "season" is about to start. Since I'm going to be away often over the next two months, I didn't want to start a new watercolor project (which normally takes a few weeks). So the objective of my last class was to finish something fast. 

My subject of choice: a certain black cat named Rogue. 

Her proportions are a bit wonky, but you'll have to forgive me as I didn't even do a sketch for this one. I pretty much started splashing around with a big brush, as my teacher wishes I would do more often. But I think this captures her cranky/evil look pretty well; it's the one she pulls when she's sleepy and I'm trying to play with her.

It's an interesting exercise to paint black without actually having black in my palette: I used indigo, brown, and a touch of red. I plan to use it as a study for a bigger, more carefully considered portrait of my pet (cat-rait? Pet-rait?). But in the meantime, I have some traveling to do! #excited

My mother's daughter

My mom turned 63 years young yesterday! Happy birthday, Mom.

This is my mom in her forties, when I was in grade school. In the photo, she is the only woman in a mining expedition in Mindanao, wearing a necklace and (what I suspect to be) South Sea pearl earrings while traipsing around the mountains of Agusan del Norte.

This is not the kind of thing that a lot of moms do, so this picture I feel perfectly captures the kind of woman that she is. She made a lot of bold decisions and tough choices, and while I'm not quite as brave (and circumstances have not tested me as severely as they did her), I still try to push myself now and then. I thought it was my thirst for adventure, but it may just be that I am my mother's daughter.

Then there's me. Sometimes—not often, but it happens—I still feel like the little girl trying to wear her mother's clothes (I'm wearing her scarf in this photo, by the way) and follow in her footsteps. While we are vastly different—because she has let me be—the older I get, the more similarities I notice between us, just like in these two pictures.

More importantly, the older I get, the more I understand her. (Although she still drives me crazy sometimes.) My mom was widowed early, less than 10 years after she married my dad; after being married for just four years, I have only begun to understand just what she lost and what a herculean accomplishment it was to have rebuilt her life after that, with her family on her shoulders no less.

Not only did she rebuild her life, but she made a good life for us too. And because she did, I am able to, among many other things, indulge my wanderlust, pursue new and different things, stand tall and smile brightly—just as I am in this picture.

So, it's her birthday, but she is the gift. Again—happy birthday, Mom and I love you!

Lady in red

Based on a vintage-inspired editorial from an old issue of Preview, this lady in red has been my watercolor project for the whole month of February. I had been feeling largely uninspired by the usual landscapes that we do in class, and recalling how much I enjoyed doing my first fashion illustration, I decided to try another fashion-influenced project. 

At the end of each class, I would take a photo of the day's work. It helped me see what I needed to fix and improve before moving on. For example, looking at this photo of the initial sketch helped me shift her features from fully Pinay to more Chinese, and fix the proportions of the body before getting the paint in.

Getting the sketch right and painting in the underlayers was slow work, but it all took off when I laid in that brilliant red in week three. Now that was fun...

Cafes on the wharf

Pedaling against the raging gales of Amsterdam Noord can make one ravenous. I was a little worried about finding a ready meal out in an area that seems mostly like industrial wasteland. 

Fortunately, there's Cafe Noorderlicht ("northern lights") on the NDSM-Werf, just a skip-and-a-hop from thrifting havens Van Dijk en Ko and the IJ-Hallen flea market.

The food is simple (soups, salads, sandwiches) and the look is cobbled-together industrial. The most important thing is the abundance of light and warmth.

The vibe is great, though—casual, indie and totally laid back. It's also a good place to ogle hipsters. I thought I could pass amongst them in my hipster attire of skinny jeans, mixed prints (cats and stripes) and bright red kisser. But no, my simple girl pearl earrings betrayed me! Hipster FAIL.

Aside from Noorderlicht, one can also refuel after (or fuel up before) a day of thrifting at the IJ-Kantine, right on the wharf.

Again, it's pretty basic (as with most Dutch cafes) with its offering of soups, salads and sandwiches. The interiors are industrial-inspired as well.

It's a good place to keep warm and grab a quick coffee while waiting for the ferry back to Centraal Station.

On the way back to the city center, you can't miss the submarine moored in the wharf. I wonder what its story is and why it's there.

I like the vibe in this part of Amsterdam Noord, and how the ferry ride makes coming here feel like a mini-break from the city. I'm looking forward to seeing what it's like in the summer... if we even have a summer, that is!

Amsterdam's biggest flea market

I love me some old things, so I was delighted when one of my friends suggested a girls' day out at the the IJ-Hallen flea market in Amsterdam Noord. 

Held in a huge warehouse in the old shipyards of the NDSM-Werf (or wharf), it has over 500 stalls selling second-hand items, making it the largest flea market in Amsterdam. The IJ-Hallen flea market is held on the first weekend of every month and costs €4 to get in. Sometimes, they will have a second market day focusing on certain kinds of goods; this March, it's toys, miniatures, dolls and dollhouses. 

The IJ-Hallen is not nearly as atmospheric as, say, Les Puces de St-Ouen in Paris, but it has its own unique vibe being in a huge industrial complex where ships were once built.

Click "read more" for the full IJ-Hallen thrifting experience, plus our finds for the day!

Marni for H&M madness

If you're interested in fashion, you will know that the Marni for H&M collection hit stores today. I've never been the type to camp out for hours for any kind of retail launch (like the iPhone launches in Singapore), but I did have my eye on a few cute things from the collection. So I thought I would pop by the big H&M store on Dam Square at lunchtime, after my Thursday morning sewing class. 

Standing there with other, equally disbelieving female shoppers, I learned how to say "That's it?!" in half a dozen different languages. We all circled these two racks like confuzzled chickens until it finally sunk in: This was it. 

Hunter Gatherer: Old books

Of the many blogs I discovered while doing the Blogging Your Way e-course a few months back, Carousel is one of the few that I follow religiously. The woman at the helm of Carousel is Chi Feasey, a London-based fashion designer with a great eye and a bold, fabulous personal style. Chi first got me hooked by blogging about her brave decision to wear just Six Items or Less for an entire month. Her 30-day fashion diary is filled with fun and creative outfits, and had me virtually applauding by the time of its grand finale. 

One of my favorite features on Chi's blog is her "Hunter Gatherer" series, where she posts a collection of photographs revolving around a certain theme. From a skateboarder's haunt to folds of fabric, each series is intriguing and inspiring, with lots of details to get lost in. 

Inspired by and as a shout out to Carousel, I've decided to put together a little "Hunter Gatherer" collection of my own from my visit to Van Dijk en Ko. They had a large-ish selection of second-hand books, with many dating back to the 1900s. 

I love books and I love paper. Make them decades, even a hundred years old and you'll have me in a puddle on the floor. 

Most of the volumes that caught my eye were published between 1900 and 1930. It was a time when every printed book was precious and expensive, a work of art. This beautiful book on Dutch paintings, for example, has a stunning trifecta of binding, endpaper and bookplate. 

Old endpapers with a hand-drawn feel. The last really eye-catching endpaper I saw was in a hardbound copy of Harry Potter, but of course it was missing the character of a paper like this.

How they did branding in the old days: the bookseller's label in each book. Even the tiniest stamp had room for two fonts and a couple of flourishes.

Another art book with an amazing embossed hardcover.

And a tiny book of prayers that fits into a palm or pocket.

I love books with surprises, like a letter or postcard tucked into its pages. Jumping ahead a few decades,  I found this personalized astrology chart in an art book from the 1960s.

This "Electric Cookbook", which taught Dutch housewives of the 1960s to cook with that newfangled contraption known as an electric stove, held a sheaf of handwritten recipes. Check out that cursive.

This recipe lists currants, raisins, brown sugar and apple juice as its main ingredients. Sounds yummy.

Books and paper can be so lovely. This is why I'll probably never get a Kindle!

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This is my first Blog of the Month feature. Every month, I promise to send a shout out to one of the bloggers on my blogroll, in the form of an "As Seen On..." type of post. Let me know if you like the idea... and the post, of course!

Van Dijk & Ko

Be prepared for a slew of thrifting posts from me over the next few days. I'm obsessed with finding a desk for my soon-to-be home office, and since I'm on a budget, checking out second-hand sources has been my top priority. One (rare) sunny Saturday morning, my search for the perfect second-hand desk led me across the river IJ (pronounced "eye") to Amsterdam Noord, which is 14 minutes by ferry from Centraal Station.

Amsterdam Noord is still largely industrial, but it's considered an "up-and-coming" (i.e. increasingly livable, secretly hip) neighborhood. With wide roads, little greenery and a surfeit of warehouses, it feels like a different planet from the rest of Amsterdam. 

It's also a killer bike ride, because nothing cuts the wind, which (on the day we were there, at least) is inescapable and so very strong. I felt like 20-pound weights were hanging from my handlebars. 

But my fietsje (little bike) and I forged ahead anyway. I say "little," because my trusty baby blue cruiser who came all the way from Singapore is microscopic by Dutch standards. I feel like I get strange looks whenever I'm out biking; I've seen 11 year-olds riding bigger bikes than mine.

In contrast, Marlon, who bikes to work everyday, has a proper Dutch bike. They call it an oma fiets (granny bike). It's higher, so you can fully extend your legs while biking and prevent damage to your knees. I don't bike often enough to care about that stuff, although I should.

Anyway, there was a good reason for the killer bike ride: to explore the 2,500 square-meter second-hand wonderland known as Van Dijk en Ko.

Step inside, after the jump!

Adventures in babysitting

Coming from a culture of live-in help, the concept of babysitting is completely alien to me. It's something I only know vaguely from the paperback series of my tweenhood, like Sweet Valley High or (you guessed it) The Babysitters' Club. 

I have two friends who recently became first-time moms within weeks of each other, and watching them makes makes me realize that despite being used to hardship in many ways, we Manila girls are very, very spoiled in the areas of childcare and household help. As a child of a single-parent household, I had a yaya until the age of 11. So I haven't completely wrapped my head around the idea that Marlon and I (well, mostly I) will actually have to do everything—as in everything—ourselves, with only occasional help. I have to admit, I'm slightly terrified. 

I got the chance to take a peek at the life that awaits me when my friend Michelle needed help watching Maddy, her six week-old baby, while she packed for a move. Since it was a Friday night, I got Marlon to come along (he should know what to expect too, right?). 

Michelle and I sent Marlon out to buy pizza while we girls got to do the fun stuff, like hold the baby, change her diaper (pee only, thank goodness), and document her newest skill: rolling over. Adorable.

The most fascinating thing for me to discover was the process of elimination involved in soothing a baby. With the baby unable to communicate what is causing its discomfort, it seems you just have to go down a list of possible options until one works. Hungry? She just fed. Sleepy? Maybe. Needs pacifier or finger to suck on? Try again. Needs to "talk" or move around? Get up and do that. Needs to sit up or lie down? Put her on her cushion. Needs changing? It's about that time.

Michelle made it look really easy to decipher Maddy's "signals", but I guess that comes from doing the same things over and over again for hours on end!

Aside from being a total bundle of cuteness, Maddy was really easy and seemed to take to me well enough, falling asleep in my arms more than once. She was a little more anxious (see the face) with Marlon, who held her and hummed to her, melting my heart in the process. It was all fun, but I guess I can only say that because I get to leave the baby behind at the end of the evening!

You might wonder if this experience has made us feel anything about having a baby. Well, I've known for a while that it's time, and so has Marlon. It's like I've woken up and realized that I'm no longer 17... and that it's no longer a disaster if I get pregnant! They say there's no such thing as being 100% ready for parenthood, but the two of us agree that at least emotionally—individually and as a couple—we're as ready as we'll ever be.  

In fact, we're hoping that this will be the year. So, wish us luck. Any volunteers for babysitting?

Shock-o-latier

Just off the Meir, Antwerp's most important shopping street, is the one of the city's most important monuments: the Rubenshuis. (Note: in Dutch, the vowel pairing ui is pronounced "au," so you literally say Rubens' house.) I was surprised at how massive it was; clearly, unlike other famous Dutch artists—Van Gogh comes to mind—Peter Paul Rubens enjoyed commercial success during his lifetime.

Unfortunately, with all the eating and shopping, Marlon, Yeho and I didn't catch up to the Rubenshuis before closing time. To console ourselves, we backtracked to an interesting building just around the corner from the Rubenshuis—the Paleis op de Meir. 

A 250 year-old building with an illustrious list of owners from Napoleon to William I of the Netherlands to the Belgian Royal family, the Paleis now houses a brasserie, heritage foundation, ballroom-turned-party-venue, and a chocolate shop. A visit to Belgium is not complete without a box of Belgian chocolates to take home, so we stepped into the latter for a visit. 

The Chocolate Line is a Michelin-listed chocolatier established by Fabienne DeStaerke and Dominique Persoone in Brugge. This second shop in Antwerp works out of Napoleon's former kitchen, which you can step into for a view of the chocolatiers in action. 

Also on display in the the kitchen was a gown created for Miss Belgium entirely out of Belgian chocolate. I immediately notified our resident pageant expert, but he was unable to ID the candidate and year. If it were me, this dress would probably not have made it out of my boudoir. #nomnomnom 

Dominique Persoone calls himself a "shock-o-latier" due to the unique and inventive flavor combinations used in his chocolates. The only thing I really found shocking in his shop was this giant photograph of nude models strewn in an alley, like corpses drizzled in chocolate. It reminded me of the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre as depicted in the French film Queen Margot with Isabelle Adjani. Yikes.

Naturally, we couldn't leave without sampling the goods. We settled on a box of 250 grams, or about 14 pieces, for €14.50.

Our box included such flavors as mocha ganache, coriander and salted peanut, basil with olives and sun-dried tomato chutney, and lavender.

What's left of our box now: pralines with sake, wasabi, saffron and curry powder, and bacon. Yes, bacon. I'm saving that for last.

Shopping in Antwerp

A few days ago, Marlon said to me, "If we lived in Belgium, we'd be really fat and really poor." Because there's nothing I want to do on my return trip to Antwerp except eat and shop, eat and shop, eat and shop. I didn't quite get enough of that during our day trip a few weeks ago!

I would have liked to step into Het Modepaleis, housed in a lovely Art Deco building on shopping street Nationalestraat, to pay obeisance to Dries Van Noten. But being a couchwife with an irregular income doesn't afford me that luxury, so I had to be content with snapping a photo.

Slightly closer to, but still nowhere within my meager means was Allsaints Spitalfields, a brand that's completely new to me.

Its shop window, with its massive collection of vintage sewing machines, was the kind of display that promises all sorts of awesomeness inside.

I wanted to take home everything, but sadly, it was not to be. I did put some of my favorites up on my Pinterest board for future reference. I'll be back for one of you, my pretties. 

Afterwards, we headed to the Meir, a wide pedestrian boulevard that is Antwerp's biggest and most famous shopping street. I haven't been to a mall since my last trip home, but the Stadfeestzal (City Festival Hall), a turn-of-the-century government building converted into a shopping center, beckoned with its stately grandeur.

Inside: glass-domed ceilings, mosaic floors, and marble staircases. Sumptuous! But that's not what sent my jaw crashing to the floor.

What really got me was the presence of an Urban Outfitters in the building. Urban Outfitters! Three floors! Why do we not have this in Holland?!

I may not be able to afford Dries Van Noten or even, Allsaints, but I can definitely cough up enough change for Urban Outfitters. So I disappeared into the madness and found a few pretty things to take home. Check out my goodies, after the cut!

Antwerp by day, Antwerp by night

Marlon and I recently had a weekend visit from his cousin Yeho, who lives in Heidelberg, Germany. At her behest (and with her car), we drove down to Antwerp for the day. I've always wanted to go, and the car was the catalyst for me to finally overcome my inertia. Clocking in at just 2.5 hours, it's a really easy drive. Yes, Belgium is the new Batangas.

We left at around noon and arrived in the center of town in time for a late lunch, and started the drive back a little after dinnertime. Having two meals in Antwerp was of paramount importance, since Belgium smacks the Netherlands to the ground in terms of cuisine.



For me, a visit to Belgium is not complete without a large pot of mussels, a Belgian beer, and a fantastic dessert—usually a dame blanche ("white lady"), a childhood favorite of mine and the Belgian equivalent of a hot fudge sundae. Some say it's a Catholic vs Protestant thing, while others ascribe it to proximity to France, but whatever the reason is, I am gobsmacked by how meals can be so radically different just across the border!

In between meals, we strolled, shopped and saw a few sights. With only a few hours at our disposal, we barely scratched the surface. Luckily, we were parked right in the center of town, so leaving the car in the afternoon and returning to it at in the evening gave us the opportunity to see some of Antwerp's iconic buildings in two distinct lights.

The Cathedral of Our Lady was closed, so we missed out on some of Peter Paul Rubens' most famous works housed within. We did get nice day vs night views of this impressive Gothic structure...

... as well Grote Markt, or Old Market Square. It was a smaller-scale version of Brussels' Grand Place, with similar gabled guild houses. A big difference is in what it's called; I didn't see any signs pointing to a Grand Place here. Being so close to the Netherlands, Dutch is more widely spoken in Antwerp than French; our smattering of Nederlands actually helped us get around and read menus. Here's the Grote Markt by day... 

... and by night. If the perpetual rain is good for anything, it's for making cobblestones gleam. 

On one side of the Grote Markt is the Stadhuis, or City Hall. Again, by day... 

... and by night. 

Driving into the city, our curiosities were piqued by this stunning building. It turned out to be the Museum aan de Stroom, or MAS, a museum about the city of Antwerp "and its relationship with the world."  (Iiiiiinteresting.) Built by famous Belgian architects Neutelings Riedijk, Antwerp's history as an important port city inspired this design of shipping containers stacked in a spiral. We returned in the evening, but the museum was already closed; this definitely warrants a return trip! 

Fortunately, the surrounding quayside, Het Eilandje ("The Islet"), was also a good area to end up in, being a former port area with interesting bars and restaurants. It was hard to get into a restaurant without a reservation, but we managed to find a table at a great bar called Het Duvels Genot (literally, "The Duvel Enjoyment"... kind of like the Heineken Experience, I guess). 

I've learned to expect crappy food when I walk into a bar in Amsterdam, but Belgium thoroughly has a leg up in this area. We had an awesome meal cooked with a variety of beers from the Duvel brewery, with hearty portions and reasonable prices. It was another one of those times where I was so involved with my food, I totally forgot to take pictures. Definitely a good reason (of many!) to make a return trip.