Happy Birthday Ellie

We're just back from a vacation with Ryan's folks and sister Kim in the northern Netherlands, seeing the tulips, windmills, dikes and quaint villages that Ryan's grandparents and great grandparents left on their way to Pella, Iowa. It was lovely. And so is Ms. Eleanor, who is three today. This morning she briefly lamented not being two anymore and then put on her purple dress and hopped off to school to share her birthday muffins with everyone. The changes between one's day of birth and three years old are astounding, and I'm left marveling with gratitude.

Int'l speak

This morning Ellie called me a "cheeky monkey". Surprised, I asked where she'd learned that. In my mind, cheeky monkey is vintage Saturday Night Live--a Mike Myers phrase as he plays Simon, the bathing British boy who hopes his audience aren't a bunch of "bum lookers". Anyway, Ellie said her teacher (a fine British woman) uses the phrase. Who knew it was real Brit speak?
It hailed again this morning, twice and violently, but the sun is temporarily out and we're about to make a mad dash for Ellie's dance class which takes place in Dutch, English, French and German. It's good to be in the middle of the world, even in bad weather.

PS--In the time it took for me to get my shoes on, it started hailing again! I don't know about a two mile trek in on again/off again hail . . .

PSS--Back from a disastrous attempt to get to dance class--wind so strong that the huge jogging stroller (knew better than to attempt the bike) was pushed over and hanging on by one wheel before I could right it. Meanwhile, I felt like an aspiring Mary Poppins as my big black umbrella threatened to lift me off the ground before I could get it closed. Ellie, having dried her tears of fear after taking cover in the grocery store said, "We're having a hard day, mama." The whole Dutch equation of using this incessant wind (via windmills) to move the water from the saturated fields into canals makes total sense to me now. The accompanying tulips must be God's consolation for this kind of spring. Happy Easter!

Provence part II (with a lot about Dutch weather)

It's begun hailing again in Maastricht--the 2nd time 3 days. This time it's coming down so quickly that our patio is white with unmelted hail. Thankfully we've made it back from our bike ride in time--from the pinging sound and the way people are scurrying for cover I don't think Ellie would be happy about being pelted. Ah--Dutch weather. I love Maastricht. When I go away I always come back with a new appreciation for it and insight into what makes this a great place to live. This time I appreciate how people speak English so easily and even eagerly, how restaurants are open early (in France we had a real problem eating dinner before 8pm--too late for a 2 3/4 year old and a pregnant mama given that the lunch hour ends 1:00 or 1:30ish), the cafe we frequent so often (Coffeelovers, for you Maastricht veterans), the quirkiness of the Dutch and the ease of living (demonstrated just yesterday when I needed to have Ellie's throat looked at and a doctor 2 blocks away cheerfully and promptly got her in and expertly managed her care). I have decided, however, that I don't so much appreciate the weather. I ran into another American who said that while she loves Maastricht, she just can't go any longer with weather that is either threatening to rain or raining (and no gentle spring rain here--it's always accompanied by a wicked sideways wind). Giving up on the Netherlands, she's booked their last month in Europe in Provence just so that she can see the sun before she goes home. I get that. Even in Minnesota, when it's bitterly cold, we get to see the sun. But it's not guaranteed here. However, there's a sort of Dutch stoicism about it all and an ability to just get through it, assisted by things like rain suits to go over your regular clothes so you can bike through downpours and some crazy biking skills that enable you to hold an umbrella (and your groceries and even possibly a cigarette) as you bike home with a child or two in tow. The older female generation is still known to don the occasional rain bonnet--the plastic thing that ties under your chin that I associate with old ladies at church who still have their hair washed and set once a week. I have now acquired an appreciation for the rain bonnet's utility and will admit that during a huge deluge, with rain sheeting in my face and my eyes squinting to see where I was biking, I enviously eyed a woman's bonnet as we waited together at the red light. See--that's what Dutch weather weather will get you--wanting to wear a rain bonnet! This is the kind of red flag that sent us packing for Provence in search of restoration of mental health . . .

So where was I about Provence? Well, I'll cut it short and say that we'd like to return, preferably when lavender is in season. The mountains, the ancient ruins, the villages, the food, the landscape and the sun--it's a place to return to for sure. Here are some more pictures. The top two are in Avignon, famous for the bridge and the song. That's what's left of the famous bridge (part was taken by a flood way back) from the view of the gardens of the Pope's palace. You would think that the beautiful Avignon carousal would play the song, but no. It played an organ version of The Chicken Dance. The third picture was taken on the way to Vaison la Romaine, just of the countryside and a typical little Provencal village off in the distance. The last two are at Vaison la Romaine--the 1st is of an old, but renovated, Roman arena that the village still uses and the final one is of Ellie and I hiking up to yet another medieval castle, she's saying--"Why do I have to go to all this old stuff?"

Hey--it's stopped hailing and it's a bright blue sky. Maybe we'll venture out to Coffeelovers. Cheers!

March in Provence--pt. 1

Taking advantage of those cheap RyanAir flights, we recently flew to Marseilles and enjoyed a five day tour of Provence, France. Although we got back 5 days ago, I've struggled to sit down and update the blog as it feels like vacation is really over once I do so. But now the laundry mound is done, the refrigerator is re-stocked and Ellie's been back to school so I think we're really home. It was so lovely to get away. Ryan had been working his tail off until the night we left and then ceremoniously left his work computer in Maastricht, not even getting on the phone with work while away. It was very restful for all of us to be together in an area known for its leisurely meals, restful pace, fields of lavender, groves of olives, ancient ruins and gorgeous vistas. Here are a few pictures. The 1st is at our beautiful bed and breakfast, Ellie enjoying the resident ball. The second is of the ancient archaeological site of Glanum--first inhabited 6000 BC by stone-aged families, then the Celts (starting in the 2nd century BC), then the Romans (1st century BC-2nd century AD), then the French, who now call the area St. Remy de Provence, made famous most recently by the Van Gogh painting of the same name. Next is the beautiful Medieval city of Les Baux, inhabited by the same cast of characters but most of its action occurring in the 11th-14th centuries. The last two pictures are at Pont du Gard, a 1st century aqueduct built by the Romans, still standing strong. More to come!

perceptive child

This morning as we were all waking up, Ellie crawled into bed and decided to sing the ABCs to "my little baby" as she likes to call her new little brother/sister. Midsong she stopped and said, "Wow, your bum is getting bigger too mom!" Ryan laughed and replied, rather undiplomatically, "She's a perceptive child." Watch out J Lo!

Settling back into Maastricht

Goed dag allemand--we're back (and have been for a while) and enjoying sweet Maastricht. The trees and shrubs are greening up and the tulips and daffodils are in bloom--it's a nice change from the Minnesota winter. It seems we missed the party of the year--Carnival weekend was the first in February but there are still vestiges of an enormous gala that Ellie and I missed but Ryan enjoyed. There are layers of confetti jammed between the cobblestones, gaudy boa feathers from gaudier costumes seem to come from nowhere and surprise you by clinging to your jacket and the broken glass from champagne and beer bottles still sparkles in the hard to reach street corners. Though the street cleaners have been over these many many times by now, it takes really heavy downpours to clean deep between the cobblestones. We've been having a few of those as well. It's hard to tell which is better--freezing bitter cold in a car culture or windy rainy raw weather in a bike culture. Ellie also vividly remembers the time we tipped over in the wind while biking and has a real fear of that happening again. And as I get larger, so do I. We're making it through though. Ellie was going to be going to school three times a week but due to a registration mix up is back down to twice. However, as I look out at the wind rocking the trees, I'm thankful that I'm not biking up to her school 3X/week. Ellie has a new friend--another Medtronic family has moved into our apartment area with a daughter Ellie's age. It's great for her to be able to speak in English as she plays. She has a couple other friends who are so sweet but as she isn't fluent in Spanish or Swedish a lot of their communication is limited. Ryan is working very hard--his project is in its busiest time yet. We don't hardly see him and are looking forward to a visit to the south of France this weekend when we can all relax--more after we're a bit more rested. Cheers to you all!

snowy minnesota home

As I write from my parents' porch in Austin, new snow is falling on the already drifted in backyard. It's so good to be in cold Minnesota, even the snow and windchill (-15 yesterday) lend a sense of adventure to the everyday. We should be on our way to Iowa to visit Ryan's folks, but the anticipated 7 inches today combined with the still icy highways from this weekend's blizzard are keeping us in Austin for an extra day. It's been a whirlwind visit here--we got to see some but not all friends in Minneapolis, visited a couple old haunts and had enough together time for Ellie and Della got their fill of each other (cabin fever that extra day being snowed-in in St. Paul). But the visit has had less leisure than we'd anticipated as we started working on house hunting in the event that this spring we're suddenly back on a plane to Minneapolis. My folks, Emily and Dan have graciously provided all the comforts of home away from home and childcare, and I am so thankful.

It's good to be in the States. Being home, it's just easy here, there's not much guilt associated with speaking English, it's more diverse than Maastricht (at least in the Cities), there's a real spirit of optimism (perhaps coinciding with the excitement around the promise of newness in an election year) and after you ease your way through snow drifts and ice you begin to gain a new appreciation for the American emphasis on convenience (drive through coffee shops!). Minneapolis felt like a small town as I bumped into former students, had a sweet clerk at our old co-op ask me where I've been and marvel at how big Ellie has gotten, etc. Ellie has been very frustrated with the car culture, asking if we can walk or take a bike to wherever we're going. As we think about a possible move home and especially where we may live, we're hoping to combine the best of European living (walking, biking, having less stuff but of higher quality, slowing down, eating great food, enjoying art routinely rather than a rare trip to a museum, etc.) with the best of American living. I've been scrutinizing neighborhoods to find the place that affords that kind of living and is still affordable. We'll see what happens.

So even as I say that it's so good to be home, I have to admit that like everywhere there are those things with which you must make peace. It's one thing to make peace with a quirk in another culture, but quite another when it's your own culture. As I was poking down Interstate 35 at 40 miles an hour yesterday (ice patches everywhere south of Owatonna) in my mother's Corolla with "Peace be with you", "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind" and "More trees, less Bush" bumper stickers, a jacked-up, half monster truck roared by me, it's 20-something inhabitants decked out in camouflage. They braked, rolled down the window, and gave me the bird and then tried to moon me. The funny thing was that the cold was just too nasty on exposed skin and so after they retreated behind their now rolled up ultra-tinted windows, I didn't have to see the full view. I laughed at the botched mooning but then sobered up when I thought about how even with so much beauty and goodness in this country, many people in the world now have an impression that Americans are a lot like those arrogant, reckless monster truck driving kids with the world as our highway. There are reasons for that impression, my little encounter reminded me, but the reality is much more complex and, I believe, more hopeful.
Love--and peace!--and hope to you all.