gate-crashing the pick-up pool

As biking has lost some of its appeal during the increasingly chilly and wet days, I ventured to the pool to find an alternative form of exercise. We have a view of the gym and pool from our patio, but I have to admit that until I discovered I was pregnant I had very little interest in getting in the pool. The elliptical was more appealing, and if I wanted to join a class there were better alternatives than water aerobics. I had been hoping to get up the nerve to join the spinning class, but the all spandex outfits gave me pause. The Dutch do things properly--you wear proper bike shorts and a jersey (matching, of course) even on the exercise bike. But the water aerobics class seemed an increasingly sensible choice--it meets on the two mornings that Ellie's at school and it's supposed to be the perfect exercise during pregnancy. I figured that I should give it a try, get used to it and then I'd enjoy it later on when I really needed something for my mama body. So on Tuesday, I ventured into the pool and lamely looked around, waiting for someone else to start doing something that I could follow. I noticed a few things as I waited for the class to start:

1. I was the youngest by at least 35 years. No one except me was under his or her late sixties. Some daring individuals had to have been pushing ninety. The one individual who was in his 40s quickly hustled out of the pool as soon as the water weights were being distributed, leaving me in a pool with 25-30 of my elders. These were serious elders, too--you could tell they had known a lot of success in their lives just by the way they carried themselves. Also, this part of Maastricht is known as the place where the up and coming live alongside the pensioners whose success allowed them retire in a chic little apartment next to the river.
2. The women were ignoring me and, when I would catch one of them looking at me, she would quickly look away pretending not to have been wondering what I was doing there. No women smiled or said hello.
3. The men, however, were very interested in me--two men started conversations and many others smiled or nodded approvingly that I had joined the class.
4. The woman who was my age who handed out the water weights at the beginning pretended that it was normal that I was there, but she did have a jaunty little smile with questionable sincerity. Later I caught her and a friend laughing after looking at me flapping my arms around in the pool with all the other would-be exercisers.

I wondered what I had done. At first I felt I should never have gotten into the pool, but the more I thought about it the more it made sense. To everyone, even before they realized I wasn't Dutch, I was a curiosity by virtue of my age. And to these folks, this was the equivalent of the bar, a place to check each other out and maybe meet up with someone. So to the women, I was an unwanted distraction, competition even. To the men, I was a welcome curiosity.

I think I'll go back. I was really sore afterwards--contrary to my low expectations, this isn't wimpy exercise. And eventually one of the women will talk to me. Eventually it will become obvious that I'm expecting and then hopefully the suspicion will fall by the wayside. I'll still be an oddity in the pick-up pool, but perhaps I'll feel more welcome.

pining for home

I write after a windy rain storm swept through Maastricht, pelting our windows with water though we have almost 2 meters of overhang on that side. Though our mail slot has been opening and closing in the wind all evening, I'm just now learning not to check for mail with each door clatter. Besides, it's Sunday. In Minnesota there's a fresh 10 inches of snow, in Des Moines they closed the airport yesterday. It's times like this I really miss home. Ryan's in LA, Ellie's sleeping upstairs after finally agreeing to part with her pink leotard (courtesy of Becky) and get into her pajamas, the wind is now dying down now. In lieu of dwelling on the NY Times news (I can be obsessive, which becomes depressing), I finished reading Harry Potter--again--trying to nurture my hope, which it always does. The tea kettle's on and I'm thinking of all the people at home I'd like to share a cup with. Sending love.

gratitude

I asked Ellie what she was thankful for yesterday. "Mom and Dad and books." Later she added music and some names of friends and family. That's the beginning of great list when you're two. Ours at thirty two is lengthier, but its essence the same. We're thankful for you all, far and near, and blessings great and small. Sending love, gratitude and hopes for peace. Happy Thanksgiving!

from Messenger, by Mary Oliver

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird--equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy . . .

David Sedaris on Sinterklaas

Special thanks to Andy for this gem on Sinterklaas (versus Santa Clause) with special attention to the whole Zwarte Piet phenomenon. It's so good, it must be brought out from the "comments" and into the open. It has some great footage of the Sinterklaas hysteria that we're living in now. And as Andy said, it's not meant for kids. Click for: Sedaris on Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet

Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet arrive

We've just had a really Dutch weekend. Sinterklaas and his Zwarte Piets (kind of like elves, but literally Black Petes) arrived in Maastricht from Spain, spreading cheer and candy and ushering in the Christmas season. As their boats came up the Maas River, thousands of children crowded on the bridges and banks to catch a glimpse of the Dutch Santa Claus. Following his safe arrival on shore, Sinterklaas and the Zwarte Piets paraded through the town. Some of the Zwarte Piets did bicycle tricks, some were in a marching band, some threw candy--all looked remarkably like Dutch people, only with a different shade of skin. I couldn't help laughing at how much people were getting into this (lots of costumes, lots of singing "welcome Sinterklaas") and how the whole Zwarte Piet thing just wouldn't fly at home. That evening Ellie left her shoes by the door and woke up to find that Sinterklaas and the Zwarte Piets had dropped by with a gift. She's now in the habit of peeking in every store window to see if there's a Zwarte Piet or Sinterklaas on display and wanting to stop to admire each new likeness, so we move really painfully slowly these days. It seems this whole Sinterklaas thing is a good deal for Dutch kids as they get gifts from the middle of November right up until Christmas. What have we gotten ourselves into?

getting ready

Here's Ellie practicing being a big sister with "baby Paul". Click to watch the video.

changes afoot

Being far away feels much more real when life shifts (or adds to) its foundations. And so it feels odd to be announcing, via the blog, that we're expecting another baby this summer. This is very welcome news for us, although Ellie's not so sure just yet. Although I usually make a point not to write about other folks' news, I should note that once again we're joining my sister Emily and her husband Dan, as well as a few other good friends, in this time of expectation. (Hopefully those two aren't feeling stalked in life.) There is much to be sorted out, especially where this baby will be born, but that will come in time. In the meantime, we're well and enjoying Europe without all the wine and coffee. And since I've already broken my rule about sharing others' news, I will add that we're celebrating a victory for students, teachers, families and the general progress of Austin, Minnesota in the election of my mom to the school board. I'm proud of my folks for staying positive through an at-times rough campaign. And I used to be the rabble rouser while my mother was more concerned with domestic issues . . . how the tables turn. Sending love to you all.

Joining or not and leisure in cold weather

I was just writing to a friend about the difficulty of finding close friendships somewhere when you know you'll only be a year. While the 12-18 month stint in Memphis turned out to be just shy of 12, we found it easy to make friends. We found friends of friends from other places, neighbor friends and also friends from La Leche League, which is a group of super cool women trying to raise children in a mindful kind of way. We were lucky. In Memphis, at least with LLL, I was a joiner. We've been lucky here, too, but people keep moving away one by one, like we will one day, and we're stuck wondering how much effort to put forth, which people probably wonder about us also. I helped out (very peripherally) with Ellie's school Halloween party and met a whole bunch of neat people from around the world, her school being an international school. But then there's always the sizing up of each other's friendship-ability that always asks first, "how long will you be here?" People have been very welcoming to me and have encouraged me to join various groups around here, some for mothers, some for parents, some religiously orientated. As I decide how much of myself to put forth, given the year we'll be here and how many visitors we'll be receiving over this year, I start to get the feeling that I'm not a huge joiner. Part of the value of LLL in Memphis was, given how the city's overall culture was extraordinarily conservative, that it attracted like-minded women/kiddos who were passionate yet non-judgmental, offering alternatives to not uncommon Memphian attitudes that included a dose of racism, etc. There's not much I see around here that I don't want to emulate, let alone want to resist. So perhaps it's the need for joining that's left me. In the meantime we're meeting our neighbors, slowly still, but nevertheless enjoying all those connections that seem to fall into place while hoping to keep alive those from other parts of our shared life.

It's a quiet season now as things chill around here. What's different from Minnesota winters is how it doesn't dry out (at least not yet) and the grass is still a vibrant green, the leaves holding onto their colors and their trees for so long. On Sunday after Kim flew for home, we took a few hours' long bike ride through the Dutch and Belgian countryside past half-harvested fields, pumpkin stands, orchards full of apples. We warmed up in a Belgian village cafe where every table was full and coffee and beer were flowing. Ellie had a waffle. Despite the chill in the air, the trails were full of bikers and hikers, the cafes' outdoor tables full of folks enjoying a rain-free Sunday. We realize that life is good, life is rich, and just for now, not very complicated, and we are so grateful. Holy leisure eludes us too much at home, and we are learning its value and wisdom. One friend who moved home to Minneapolis last month writes how hard it is to find that at home and I remember years of feeling I would never find a restful moment. So even as Ryan's project ramps up and he's often home late, we're taking in what the season holds, enjoying each other and the many gifts we've been given. Love to all and hopes for a rest filled advent.

Grey's Anatomy and Halloween

As much as I have been present here, gratefully enjoying our European life, I have been harboring secret hankerings for home, especially in fall. There's a gorgeous fall kind of feel here, too, but there are certain ways that the seasons express themselves that are culturally bound--at home we have jack o lanterns and Halloween, the pilgrims and corn husks, football games and, of course, TV shows getting going again. I'm not a huge TV watcher--we weren't allowed much growing up and usually we were too busy anyway. But I'm certainly not above it, and this fall season in Europe I've allowed myself the guilty pleasure to watching Grey's Anatomy to assuage the nostalgia. Gretchen and Mike, our Minneapolis/Maastricht friends who know what it's like to live here enjoying Europe while retaining something of one's American-ness, gave us Grey's Anatomy on iTunes--you can tell they had a year here to learn these kinds of things, thank you guys! As lately Ryan's worn himself out traveling and working, I've used his early to bed evenings to catch up on the Grey's Anatomy I've missed. It's been lovely. So too has getting ready for Ellie's Halloween party for her school, which will be held at an old castle nearby. Costumes are on tomorrow's agenda, so expect pictures soon. Happy October, everyone!

Maastricht as home

As we host family and friends (my folks left Sunday, Sara and Donovan have been here this week, Kim is coming next week), Maastricht and the surrounding countryside feel like home. We are growing to love its mix of old and new architecture, its relaxed pace and warm people, rich traditions and open attitudes, the way the Maas River winds through the city and the way our little lives fit in here. Here's are a few eclectic images of what home looks like to us these days. Wishing you all peace as autumn rolls along . . . love to all.

Let Evening Come, by Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late afternoon shine through chinks in the barn, moving up the bales as the sun moves down.


Let the cricket take up chafing as a woman takes up her needles and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned in long grass. Let the stars appear and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den. Let the wind die down. Let the shed go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop in the oats, to the air in the lung let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't be afraid. God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.

Finally in France-- Lyons de Foret

Our last morning we said good-bye to our place on the Seine and went to a village set in the middle of an ancient beech forest. We wandered through the tiny village and went to a 9th century abbey nearby to have crepes at the adjoining cafe before driving home. Au revoir et merci beaucoup France! We loved our time in there, but it was good to be back in Maastricht.

France, continued--Rouen and Les Andeleys

The next couple days we explored various corners and cuisines of Normandy. Rouen is where Joan of Arc was burned as a heretic--here's the church, part of it in the shape of her helmet, built on the site she died. Les Andeleys has a beautiful ruined castle that was built by William the Conqueror.

Paris (sideways!)

We took a train to Paris, where in a whirlwind we saw the Eiffel Tower, Le Louvre (outside only), Notre Dame and a few cafes throughout the day. Mom and I walked midway up the Eiffel Tower while Dad and Ellie played in the park. Paris was especially festive that day as France had just beaten New Zealand in the World Cup. It was a little taste of what is obviously a fabulous city--we'll get back there some day. I can't get Blogger to let me straighten out these pictures today--sorry about the sideways views!!

France--getting there and getting around

Back in June when my folks planned their trip we didn't know that the final week they were to be here Ryan would have to be in Minneapolis, so we planned a week in Normandy. We were all bummed that Ryan couldn't go, even more so because that meant I had to drive myself. I was relieved, however, to have good company and a fun week ahead. Before driving to Brugges, I had never ventured even within Maastricht by car. But having conquered Belgian traffic just days before, we set our little GPS to a remote address in Normandy where my parents' time share association has a chateau. There is no way on earth that we would have found the place had we not had GPS--we traveled down tiny winding roads through valleys and up hills on roads with widths barely enough for one car until suddenly there it was, on the banks of the Seine about 100 miles west of Paris. It was a cozy place made all the better with a bridge to an island in the river that had a park on it.

Like Brugges (and quite unlike Maastricht), we were on our own linguistically--this was definitely France, where seldom is heard an English word. Thank goodness for Madame Vergie Asper, French goddess of Austin High School. She honestly is the best language teacher I've ever seen, so I'm a lucky duck to have been under her tutelage oh so long ago. Everyone was kind and encouraging with my decade-old French that, when the words failed me, quickly became Swahili. As the week progressed, French came back more and more until, in Lyons de Foret, a woman told me I had a great French accent (and then seemed to wonder why more words weren't available to me--I had sounded fluent only a second ago). I'm sure she was being generous, but a big shout to Madame Asper--merci beaucoup for the pronunciation drills-- and Elodie (Elsa) for helping me (Aurelie) tend the dramatic French flame all those years ago! But a little attempt at the language goes a long way. For example, the first evening of our arrival we struggled to find a grocery store a few villages away and a kind woman who'd struggled long enough to understand my Franco-Swahili simply got in her car and lead us to the store. The week was full of kind folks doing things like that. The only sour apple was, ironically enough, at a tourist office!!

Anyway, once cozily set up in our little chateau apartment, we spent the Sunday in Giverny, where Monet's house and gardens are located. Lovely, lovely.

Brugges

A word to you wise coming to Europe . . . don't drive if you can train it. Case in point. The next week we decided mid-week to head to Brugges, a gorgeous medieval Belgian city full of chocolate and canals. Supposedly only 2 hours by car, but 2 1/2 to 3 by train, Ryan arranged to hitch a ride to work with a co-worker and we got up early to beat the crowds, leaving Maastricht before 7. It took us over 4 hours to arrive (and over 3 to get back!), but once there we have a lovely time mostly walking and eating. Was it worth the 7 hours in the car? Don't ask me . . . I'm not the one who sat in the back and had to read "Fly Guy" to Ellie about 100 times while we moved 10 kilometers in an hour and a half. But we did score some fabulous chocolate.

The quirkier side of Germany

Here are a few parting images of Germany that give a broader view of how we spent our time and include a small taste of German kitsch in the shot of my parents' hotel room in Rothenberg.

Germany part II--scenery and castles on the Rhine

We stopped in the village of Bacharach, where we caught a boat up the Rhine to St. Goar. There were castles on the hillside at nearly every turn in the river. We toured the ruins of Ellsburg castle before heading home to Maastricht.

Oktoberfest in Germany with Grandparents--Rothenberg

The first week with Grandma and Grandpa was mostly about becoming Limburger Dutch, something that's not too difficult to do. In no time at all they were biking around with Ellie and me, navigating bike lanes and our own bike traffic lights, cheese sampling, drinking fabulous coffee, eating ubiquitous apple tarts, munching on chocolate, running to the bakery for fresh bread daily and having a glass of wine once evening rolled around. Dad predictably sought after the apple treats and waffles sold on the street. Mom favored the bread and wine. After getting that routine down, we decided to vacation a bit. We had a great next weekend in Germany boating on the Rhine, climbing through castles, touring the medieval city of Rothenberg. We started in Rothenberg, in the center of Germany, one of the few medieval cities left standing after WWII. (Apparently the commander of the U.S. forces in the area had a cuckoo clock in his childhood home that said "Made in Rothenberg, Germany", so it was spared the bombing that most cities received.) Again, fall in this part of Europe is spectacular. Ellie was her adventuresome self, traveling with her potty chair always on call and ready to explore gardens and old walls and ruins. Traveling was also made far easier by Grandpa Bobby always ready to read a book or play a game. We toured the museum of medieval justice, which would be more aptly called the gruesome torture museum--I was already fighting a nasty bug, but that was a stomach turning experience. We ate cozy German food and had a sampling of German beer, once served coincidentally by a woman whose father is a Minnesotan and works at my dad's favorite shopping destination, the super-sized Cabellas in Owatonna. We strolled the city and gawked at the tourists gawking at the sights (notice how people open their mouths when staring? why is that? do i do that too?) before heading up the Romantic Road to the Rhine.

Grandma and Grandpa Bobby arrive!! Blueberry Party!!

Then on Sunday, the long-awaited, often talked about arrival of "Bobby and Nana" finally arrived. We said tearful good-byes to our friends and hopped in the car to Dusseldorf, where we scooped up Grandma and Grandpa for three weeks of fun. The fun started when the suitcases opened and there were bunny crackers and new books. We soon moved on to the party that we'd been waiting months to have . . . the no more nursies and no more diaper party! Ellie had been weaned for a while, but wanted to have her blueberry cake party with her first guests from home. The no more diaper thing was a more recent addition to the party's festivities that actually started minutes before getting into the car to head to Luxembourg with an announcement that she was finished with diapers. (That trip was made more interesting by pulling over to the side of the road and setting up the little blue potty chair for frequent pit stops!) And so we had the no more nuries and no more diaper party, with Jennifer and Grandma and Grandpa in attendance celebrating a big girl.

Maastricht in fall with cousins

The following weekend Jeff and Rita came from Portland and found Maastricht in its sweet autumnal state. We went boot shopping and beer drinking and enjoyed the warmth outside with everyone else who lives here, savoring the company and change of seasons. It was good to see them. There was a bit of bittersweetness in the air as that Sunday morning Gretchen, Mike, Kai and Emerson headed home for Minnesota. As we've had guests since they've left, I'm still not sure what a "normal" day with Ellie looks like without them. Gretchen and I used to spend our mornings hunting for kid fun punctuated by cups of cappuccino and croissants. I know that when the time comes when I'm not happily hanging out with friends and family, there will be a big gaping loss. I'm including a picture of a bike parking lot so you can get the general idea of how Maastricht folks get around.