Gone sledding

Did I mention that we have a sled at home?

On our very first furniture hunting trip to Spoor 38, Marlon saw this battered old sled outside in the cold and mist. His Superman complex immediately kicked in and he just had to rescue it. Or maybe it was a third world/tropical aspirational thing, I don't know. Anyway, we threw an Ikea cheapskin sheepskin over it, and it magically went from odd purchase to cute seating for the living room. 

The ultimate sign that the sled was truly meant for our home was the Rogue stamp of approval.

It's perfectly Rogue-sized, furry, soft, and right next to the radiator, which makes it perfect for catnaps.

On a particularly cold evening, Marlon draped a hand towel over her during one of her catnaps. She just looked like she needed to be tucked in.

Of course that meant waking her up accidentally, which she was none too happy about. But in general I think she's very happy about the sled, which means crazy cat lady and crazy cat man-in-training are happy about it too.

So what if we're too close to the ocean for actual snow and live in the most slope-less, hill-less country in Europe. Who says you can't enjoy a sled? 

Make it Monday

I've now been living in Amsterdam for an entire quarter. Time goes by so fast, doesn't it? The last three months were all about leaping up and down, clapping my hands and squealing "I'm living in Europe!!!!! I'm living in Europe!!!!! I'm living in Europe!!!!!!" Now, I've entered a phase where it's more of "I'm living in Europe! What now?" Multiple exclamation points give way to a question mark as I begin to ask myself: What do I want out of my time here?

So last week I sat down and looked into areas that I want to devote time and attention to this year. I won't go into all the details because it's very personal to me. But mostly I thought back to last year when I was dying to move here. What made me so excited was a picture of the kind of person I thought I could become, wanted to become, for which The Big Move would be the catalyst. 

One of those versions of me that I pictured was a more creative me. I know, it's ironic for someone working in the creative industry. I mean creative beyond what is required. I used to draw, but don't anymore. I love to write, but I don't make the time to do so apart from work and blogging. So I made some promises to myself, and to give them extra weight, I placed those promises in a structure. I drew up a plan to do certain things, for a certain amount of time, on certain days of the week.

Which is how Make It Monday was born. I designated Monday as the day on which, every week for one hour, I will sit down and make something with pen, paper and/or paint. I will draw, paint or collage something fun, creative and very me! I just wanted to give it a name, so Make It Mondays it is. It might change if I think of something better.

So here's something to kick off my first ever Make It Monday.

"Stepping Out," mixed media collage

Did I say one hour? Once I sat down at our long wooden dining table, I didn't get up for the next three hours. I had completely forgotten how much I love doing this and how much fun it is.

I love collage. I used to draw and paint when I was a kid, but when I was about 18 I started my long-term love affair with collage. I can remember exactly when I made my first collage and why. I'd just come back from my first Europe tour with the ACGC and had this inexplicable hunger return to Europe. (It really bothered me back then. I thought I was depressed.)

One evening at home I found a Newsweek picture of a girl trapped behind a barbed wire fence. I tore it out, and started filling the holes between the wires with bits of maps, brochures and photos from my trip. When I was done, I felt that each little piece of paper that I had chosen with such care finally, adequately expressed everything I couldn't say. I still have that first collage. And what I so yearned to do 11 years ago has been fulfilled: I'm back in Europe.

This collage is a little about that fulfillment, and more. Strange, when I was choosing all the elements I knew exactly what it was about. Now all I can say is that it's about flight, spring, leaving the grayness behind to start anew, testing the waters, and walking on air. And that making her outfit was fun, like playing grown-up paper dolls!

I started out being slow and uncertain, but when I was done my mood had completely changed. From thinking "I'll just throw something together to make a start, I'll make it better next time," I found myself quite pleased with what I'd created. And when I stepped outside to receive a delivery, I saw that I wasn't the only one who had been busy creating today.

Here's to Make It Mondays... may they make Monday blues a thing of the past!

Texel, take two

On our second and last day in Texel, the sun finally came out and gave us shivering timbers a break. I woke up feeling like a zombie cast in lead, but as soon as I was out in the sunshine I began to feel like a human being again. So Marlon and I did what we should have done the day before, and went into town to rent bikes.

"I think I need one of those children's bikes," I told the bike store lady, pointing to a metallic pink bike with GIRL POWER! emblazoned on the side. "No, no, of course not," she said dismissively, hauling out regular-sized lady bikes for me to try. After seeing me fail to even lift my leg over the seat of several bikes, she gave in. I may not know much about bikes, but I sure know my legs.

And we were off. Texel is practically synonymous with cycling, and there's a fantastic network of bike paths running all along the west coast where the dunes lie. My bike-happy friends Elaine and Paul would absolutely love it, and with the sunshine and the gentle breeze urging us along the path, I was loving it too. 

We would stop every now and then, and seeing all the fit Dutch lolos and lolas whiz by effortlessly, I was really feeling the need to get back into shape. Active holidays are normally not my thing, but this weekend showed me just how good they could be.

We biked for about an hour until we reached another walking path that cut through the heath to the beach. "That's more like it!" I squealed when we hit the dunes. What a difference sunshine can make!

We plopped down on the dunes overlooking the beach, stretching our legs, talking, and just enjoying the moment. Marlon hugged me and thanked me for a perfect weekend, and I was just happy he was having fun despite all the hiccups with the weather, the bikes, and our exhaustion from the day before.

We cycled back to the hotel through the Pelikanse Bos and stopped by the riding school one last time. By this time the horses were starting to look like old friends, haha.

Eunice Tan, isdatchu?

There were lots of families with young children feeding and grooming the ponies. There were larger horses available for adults to ride, and I was ready to indulge Marlon. But he said he was just content to stand around and snap photos of their adorable fuzziness.

After a late, leisurely lunch in town, we were ready to pack up and head for home. From De Koog, we hopped on a bus back to the port at 't Hoorntje to board the Dutch equivalent of a ro-ro. It really amazes me that return fare on a vessel of such impressive size and condition is just €2.50 (Php 150). Para ka lang nag-bangka to Puerto Galera from the Batangas pier.

As soon as boarding horn commenced, everyone scrambled for deck seats in the sun.

Back when I used to travel to Europe as a tourist, I used to laugh at how Europeans would go batshit crazy at the slightest hint of sunshine. Living here has made me totally get it.

Speaking of batshit crazy: on our train ride home, an old bald man wearing heavy white foundation, thick red lipstick, blue eyeshadow up to his eyebrows and a frothy, lacy, flouncy white wedding dress waltzed into our car and took the seat across the aisle from us, muttering to himself nonstop. I would have taken a picture, but I was too freaked out. Ganda ng lolo mo! Maybe too much sun can addle your brain. 

Texel treat

My husband started the tradition we now call birthday whisking two years ago when he whisked me away to The Fullerton Hotel on my birthday weekend. I returned the favor with a birthday whisk to the Pan Pacific the following year, with the just-released God of War 3 and his Playstation secretly packed into our suitcase. And my last birthday whisk was to the Marina Bay Sands.

Thankfully, a few remaining freelance gigs enabled me to carry on the tradition this year. Part 3 of my birthday gift to Marlon was a weekend on the island of Texel, largest of the Frisian Islands at the northern tip of Holland (close to Denmark), and one of the first getaway places I'd heard about when I first arrived.

So on Friday after work, Marlon and I embarked on my carefully researched route, which involved a tram to Centraal Station, a 1 hour and 15-minute train to the town of Den Helder, a 10-minute bus ride from Den Helder to the port, a 20-minute ferry from the port to 't Hoorntje on Texel, and a 30-minute bus ride from 't' Hoorntje to the Hotel Tatenhove in the town of De Koog. *Whew!*

By the time we got to the hotel, our cozy room, with its mostly new furnishings, spacious bathroom and aggressive heating, was more than a welcome sight.

The next morning, I realized my grand design had a fatal flaw: Amsterdam was set to be fairly sunny that Saturday, but I neglected to check the weather report for Noord-Holland. I think it was because I'd gotten so used to Singapore, a tiny dot with the same weather everywhere. So imagine my surprise when we woke up to a freeze-your-balls-off 2℃. The floral dress I packed to look charmingly spring-ish while biking along the sunny dunes of Texel? Fuhgeddaboudid.

Biking was Fuhgeddaboudid No. 2, as I soon realized the bikes for rent at the hotel were not made for my stumpy Asian legs. I watched with envy, shivering in my leather jacket, as couple after long-legged, fleece-clad couple sped off into the frigid bike paths of De Koog.

With bikes firmly out of the equation, Marlon and I decided to hoof it.

Har har, I couldn't resist. We didn't set off on horseback, but we did decide to walk. On our way to the Texel Sand Dunes National Park, we passed a riding school with the most adorably shaggy ponies. This pretty thing cozied up to my husband, which is the only time I will ever tolerate husband cozying by pretty things.

We tramped through the Pelikanse Bos, a woods where I more than half-expected to see actual pelicans. There were no pelicans, but there were lots of tiny, red-cheeked Dutch kids on ponies. Muchas preciosas.

After about half an hour of walking, we reached hilly dry grasslands marked "heath" on our map, a revelation after reading the word in so many books and not having any cultural reference for it. And then it dawned on me... "Do you know what this reminds me of?!? Do you know what I feel like here?!?" I cried, seizing my husband and shaking him with mounting excitement. "It's like... it's like.. The Last Unicorn!!!"

Sing with me! "I'm aliiiiiive... I'm aliiiiiiiive..."

Of course, we had to stop and take pictures of me walking despondently through the heath in search of my fellow unicorns, like so.

This is one of the better pictures. 

Oh and if you think I'm a certified Last Unicorn nutjob, I'm nothing compared to the dude who took 3,505 screen caps of the movie and posted them online. (Thanks for the images, by the way.)

In true Last Unicorn fashion, we eventually reached the beach.

And what a frigid beach she was.

Brrr! 

Seeing North Face as beachwear boggled my tropical mind. Combined with the close-to-zero temperature, each gust of sea breeze certainly gave new meaning to chilling out on the beach. But some people didn't seem to care, like this group of surfers we spotted. "Baliw," I muttered through chattering teeth.

 

Kaya pala lokang-loka sila sa mga beaches natin, no? Because while I was surprised at how soft, white and fine the sand was, and how expansive the beach was, it was a darn shame about the cold. Mahirap pala talaga yung perfect combo ng water, sand, and weather. At mas mahirap pa na halos whole year round siyang perfect. The Philippines is really so blessed, and we Pinoys are so lucky.

I was pretty surprised to find such a great beach here, and I consider myself spoiled by Philippine beaches. It's not the first thing you'd think about Holland, for sure, or even the third. The Dutch know that, so they've placed this gem of a beach under special protection as a national park. So aside from the high, soft dunes that make you just want to tumble from their heights, the other really special thing about the beach was the wildlife... especially the beautiful sea birds. 

Speaking of wildlife, I saw lots of big, happy dogs bounding along the shore. The Texel dunes are indeed the perfect place for creatures with built-in fur coats and a deep-seated need for frolicking with abandon. This overjoyed poodle ran right into my husband's arms while he was taking its picture.

After over an hour of taking photos, struggling against the cold and sinking into the sand, we came upon a beach pavilion with an open-roofed terrace that had tall glass windows to shield sun-worshippers against the wind. We grabbed the opportunity to escape the wind and grab some hot chocolate and lunch.

I thought I'd seen it all when I saw the surfers in the near-freezing water, but then I saw a woman in clad shaggy, thick, head-to-toe fur for a beach holiday. Then I decided I'd seen it all.

By around 4 o'clock we were completely exhausted from the shivering and the walking. I think the cold makes you extra tired when you're not dressed for it. We meandered back to town for an afternoon snack of coffee and crepes along Dorpsstraat, De Koog's main tourist thoroughfare with restaurants and shops.

Then we caved in to our inner lolo and lola and stumbled back to the hotel. Craving warmth and rest, we stretched out on the hotel patio, with an expansive view of a pond and fields, and soaked up whatever sun Noord-Holland could muster up.

"Nobody in here but us retirees," I mumbled as I drifted off to sleep, peeking with one eye at the white-haired folk who weren't out painting De Koog red, but were instead reading, sleeping, and yes, knitting in our midst.

"Tomorrow," Marlon said. "We'll try again tomorrow."

A world of our own

Part two of Marlon's birthday bonanza was something I knew he'd always wanted, but would never buy for himself: a globe!

Google led me to Stanley & Livingstone, a small store selling a wide variety of globes, maps and travel guides in Den Haag. So I arranged to meet my German friend Robert, who lives there, for a quick coffee and a trip to the center of town to check out the store. "I'm meeting Robert for coffee," I told Marlon the day before his birthday. What he didn't know was that I was meeting Robert in Den Haag!

And what I didn't know was that Robert had his own ideas for my little visit. "We can bike to the beach, then back to town, then to the center of town for coffee," he suggested. "Er... maybe not," I replied, thinking of my fledgling repertoire of biking skills, which mostly consist of huffing, puffing and wobbling. "I'm a beginner! I've never biked here before!" 

Aba, di patatalo ang Aleman. "This is Holland," he replied. "You have to get on the horse—by that I mean the bike—sooner or later." So get on the bike I did, said bike being Robert's folding bike from Dutch mega chain store Hema... which, I might add, is not the easiest thing for beginners to practice on. 

Robert was pretty tough on me, I must say (must be the German influence). Even after witnessing my red-faced struggle to mount his bike and get it moving in a straight line, he didn't cave in when I wheedled, "I don't think this is going to work." (Marlon probably would have, though!) 

Instead, he wisely decided to not ride through city traffic and took me on a quick spin through the Haagse Bos (a nearby woods/park) to the Queen's Palace. And by quick, I mean 20-30 minutes... just about enough time for my legs to cramp, for my butt to become sore, and for me to wonder why I was pedaling frantically through the woods after an athletic, whip-cracking German tenor when all I really came here to do was buy a fracking globe! 

I did end up buying the globe that afternoon, and Robert gallantly carried it for me all the way back to the train station. (Maybe he noticed me hobbling and felt sorry for me!) At home, I hid the globe among the pile of moving boxes in the guest room, and tried to sit as normally as I could on my aching bum to keep the trip (and gift) a secret from Marlon... who was so puzzled as to why I seemed so tired that evening.

I went for a vintage-looking globe called the Renaissance globe, and chose a Dutch version because it was just so much prettier than the English one. I figured if we ever leave the Netherlands, it would be a nice reminder of our time here. I also chose a globe that lights up, because as my sister so wisely pointed out: "At least you can use it as a lamp, because are you really going to sit around in your spare time looking at a globe?" She has a point!

This globe has a soft warm glow that I like... and that Marlon does too!

The countries are up-to-date, but the globe is full of little details that hark back to the golden age of seafaring and exploration, such as sea monsters, nautical icons, and even the routes of famous explorers such as Drake and Magellan.

The secrecy, the sore legs and even the aching bum was all worth it when Marlon came home from his dinner at De Kas to see the globe lit up in the darkness of our living room. He loves his gift and I love it too!

Dinner at De Kas

Every year, whenever I ask Marlon what he wants for his birthday, he simply looks at me with a smile and says, "I have everything I want." (Cue melting heart.) This year, I decided to pour my entire month's (meager) freelance earnings into celebrating his Big 3-0 with a three-part gift. 

Part one was the birthday dinner. I took charge of choosing and booking a restaurant. After running through a shortlist of choices from my trusty Time Out Amsterdam, I chose Restaurant De Kas, which sits in the Frankendael Park in the Oost (East). 

De Kas is located in an old greenhouse that dates back to the 1920s, and used to belong to the Amsterdam Municipal Nursery. Slated for demolition, it was rescued in 2001 by Michelin-starred Dutch chef Gert Jan Hageman and converted into a restaurant. 

It also still houses a small nursery, where herbs, vegetables and flowers are grown for the restaurant. The owner now heads the nursery, and together with a team of chefs, cooks up a weekly set menu of three starters, a main course and a dessert that is based on the produce harvested that week. I was hooked by the concept and the location, and thought it would be great to try seasonal food, something completely new to us. Luckily, I was right and Marlon loved it!

Whenever Marlon and I go to a restaurant here, the first thing the server asks is if we'd like something to drink. This always throws us off, and we normally end up going blink blink at each other... before ordering water! And that always throws the server off, because it seems the appropriate response is to order an aperitif... something absent from our food culture, and thus something we know nothing about. 

I was determined to be prepared for this restaurant visit, and thanks to a very informative thread in Fodors' forums, now I know! The Fodors foodies suggest a number of liquors such as champagne (the most common aperitif), grappa (which I've tried and hate), port and sherry, but the suggestion I liked most was to ask if they have a house aperitif and try it.

At De Kas, the house aperitif is champagne with an herb from the garden, which that night was the lemon geranium flower. Ordering an aperitif is the kind of thing that makes me feel like a grown-up!

I enjoyed the seasonal meal, which came with white wine for the starter and a red for the mains. Everything was so fresh, so light and so... so spring! I always hear the judges on Top Chef judges food with words like "bright" and "clean", and for the first time I understood what that meant. 

The not-so-bright part of our evening was when Marlon found a piece of steel wire at the bottom of his dessert. Yup... steel wire. I'm not talking about steel wool na pangkuskos, I'm talking alambre here. Though it was only about 2-3 millimeters, Marlon called the attention of the server.

The response of the staff was admirable. Three different members of the staff came over to apologize. The last was the manager, who waived the bill on dessert and immediately investigated the kitchen. She brought over a large mesh strainer and explained to us that it had most likely come from that. As we were leaving, we passed by the kitchen and saw her chewing out a pair of chefs. I thought the staff handled it well and it wouldn't stop me from coming back. I'm just glad nothing bad happened and that Marlon managed to enjoy every last bite of his dessert!

Before we stepped out, we stopped by the herb garden for photos. Our server gave us a little tour and pointed out the most interesting plant in the garden: oyster leaf from Iceland, so called because... they taste like oysters. Seeing our skeptical expressions, she plucked two fat, fleshy leaves and gave them to us to chew on. And you know what? They really did taste like oysters!

Nights like these are what make me extra thankful to have freelance work. If not for my rakets, I wouldn't be able to treat him and make him feel happy and special, like he always does for me. And I'm even more thankful to have a husband who enjoys such simple pleasures and shows so much appreciation for every little thing. It may be his birthday, but I think I got the best gift of all. 

Overtoom outing

Running parallel to the Vondelpark and separating the south from the west, the long avenue called the Overtoom was highly recommended by my Dutch friend Merel (actually my former boss's wife, now living in Singapore) for great furniture finds. 

Still in search of the perfect armchair for our living room, Marlon and I spent Saturday afternoon walking up and down the entire length of the Overtoom. Although the perfect chair continued to elude us, it was still a fun way to explore a new neighborhood. I didn't feel like lugging my camera around that day, so all I've got here is a mixed bag of Hipstamatic and regular iPhone pictures. 

One of my favorite discoveries was (naturally) a dirt-cheap thrift shop, whose smell instantly made me feel at home by transporting me to the ukay-ukays of Cubao. (Ah, to be 20 years old with little to no disposable income!)

I must add these to my growing collection of creepy doll/child themed photos.

Most of the good stuff, though, already bore stickers marked verkocht (sold). Most heartbreaking was a caramel leather wing chair for €60 (!!!) that was being carried out as we were browsing; we had missed a fabulous bargain by just minutes!

This fuzzy green building was one of many in a neighborhood that reminded me so much of New York, but friendlier and more laid back. If we were to move to another neighborhood, I'd pick this one in a pinch. Aside from the brownstones, there's just something so relaxed and casual about this neighborhood that won me over. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and so many people were just sitting out on their front steps enjoying the sun. I even saw one guy sitting on his windowsill, playing the guitar, with his bare legs and feet dangling out onto the street.

We stopped for a late lunch at Cafe Wilhelmina, along one of the streets branching off from the Overtoom. It turned out to be a winner!

Marlon had a Dutch farmer style omelette that could probably feed an entire barangay of farmers back home, while I had a rich, creamy goat cheese cake thinly disguised as a sandwich. The party favor-type tinsel decorations are perfect for the experience: it's a party for your taste buds.

Next door was a thrift shop festooned on the outside with discarded 80s wedding dresses and bell-bottomed velvet jumpsuits trimmed with fake fur. Naturally, I had to step inside.

I didn't find anything for me, but I did find this tacked behind the mirror in the fitting area. Kiki on Steroids! It sounds like it could be an indie pop band, but it's actually an "exhibition about transgender and Internet presence. Girls who want to be boys and vice versa. Play with your gender and lots of DIY." (DIY???) The photo on the left looks like it could be taken from the childhood albums of any one of my scores of becky friends. Look closely, my beloved gheys... it could be you!