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.