netherlands

Oud en Nieuw in the Netherlands

31 December 2014
By

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If you happen to be in the Netherlands on the last day of December, chances are you’ll learn that it is affectionately called Oud en Nieuw (Old and New). Others refer to the 31st of December as Oudejaarsdag (Old Year’s Day). The name of the day speaks volumes of how important it is for the Dutch to reflect on the past year while welcoming the new year.

 

I love that.

 

Oud en Nieuw speaks to my sentimental soul, the writer in me. So in true Dutch and American fashion, I nostalgically reflect on the past year and make my own New Year’s resolution.

 

Despite my neurotic tendencies of waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop, my life this past year has been (overall) incredible. Though my family’s life in the Low Countries is far from perfect, we live a privileged life. We finally found a place in the Netherlands that we would love to call home – Doorn. My son is growing up happy. And a lot of it has to do with living in a country that values social well-being and a keen sense of fairness within a free-market infrastructure.

 

Though there are still times when I stumble, feel horribly out of place and a fresh flood of tears follow, I am the happiest I have ever been as an expat. I can’t help but feel like the luckiest mommy blogger in the Netherlands. The constant support and encouragement via likes, shares, comments and personal messages from my readers fills my heart with gratitude. Thank-you.

 

Perhaps the biggest personal surprise in 2014 was that I started writing for my two year old son. While my blog was initially inspired by loneliness and a desperate need to connect, it has evolved to becoming a legacy for my son. As a child of immigrant parents, I am intimately familiar with cross-cultural conflicts and things simply being lost in translation. This blog is my gift to him – an honest endeavor to understand and learn about his Dutch culture while also teaching him about our Filipino-American roots.

 

The other reason for my happiness as an expat (and as a person) is living a more genuine life that’s authentic to my own personal values. In Marjorie William’s poignant article A Matter of Life and Death, she writes, “For me, time is the only currency that truly counts anymore.” Her words deeply resonate with me. In 2014, I learned to value my time and how I spend it.

 

My New Year’s resolution is simple – to write more. I plan on taking a sabbatical on my blog for the month of January to find the time and space to write. And since all the world’s a stage, the part I am going to play in 2015 is the eccentric writer in the woods.

 

Wishing everyone a fabulous New Year! And of course, don’t forget about the requisite all night partying, anarchy of fireworks, and indulgence of Dutch olliebollen.

 

p.s. If you would still like to connect with me during my January blogging sabbatical, you can get glimpses of my fabulously ordinary “Dutched” life on Facebook and Instagram.

Christmas Crash Course in the Netherlands

8 December 2014
By

christmas-crash-course-netherlands

Now that the yuletide season is underway, I would like to impart some expat insider knowledge on how the Dutch celebrate Christmas. Although from the periphery the Christmas celebrations might seem intimately familiar for American sensibilities, there are some key differences that make it distinctly Dutch. Here are the following essential highlights of a Dutch Christmas:

 

Spread the Christmas cheer.

The Christmas spirit is actually spread over two and a half days, from the eve of the 24th of December till the 26th of December. The pragmatic Dutch (and may other European countries) discovered the practicality of having two designated holidays on the 25th (Eerste Kerstdag, First Christmas Day) and the 26th of December (Tweede Kerstdag, Second Christmas Day). By officially having two and a half days of festivities, the Dutch are much more relaxed and able to really party like it’s Jesus’ birthday.

 

It’s all about the gezelligheid, hoor.

Gezelligheid is an untranslatable abstract Dutch noun which encompasses the feelings one gets when they spend time with loved ones, reuniting with someone after an absence, and/or general togetherness that gives you warm and fuzzy feelings. It’s all about warmth, coziness, and a sense of belonging. Gezelligheid is the focal point of any Dutch home and most prized during the holidays. Gezelligheid during the Christmas season brings “light” to the hearts of many Dutch people. This is quite important because it’s literally the darkest time of the entire year – there is an average of only three hours of sunlight in December. Hoor is another untranslatable Dutch word that suggests to “listen up closely”. 

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No gifts, bah humbug.

Gifts are traditionally not exchanged on any of the Christmas days. The gift giving happens on the feast of Saint Nicholas (Sinterklaas) on December 5th or 6th. Christmas, to many Dutch, is all about gezelligheid, love and nurturing the ties that bind. However, to the chagrin and dismay of many traditionalists, the American gift giving Santa Claus is slowly, but surely infiltrating into the Dutch psyche. Like all children who love receiving presents, Dutch children are more than happy to embrace the American version of old Saint Nick. Double the presents (December 6th and December 25th), double the fun. Since my son is half-American and half-Dutch, he can expect presents on both days.

 

O Dennenboom, O Dennenboom.

Like the rest of the world that celebrates Christmas, the Dutch also have Christmas trees. According to my Dutch husband, the Christmas tree is usually put up the day after Sinterklaas to keep the two holidays separate. There’s also a prevailing preference to buy a real Christmas tree as opposed to the plastic kind. And for the ever so conscientious Dutch person, there’s also a program where you can “borrow” a tree and replant it back into the forest.

 

It’s a family affair.

While Christmas is traditionally a Christian affair commemorating the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ, it is becoming more about a family holiday in many Dutch households. While some families attend the Christmas Eve mass, many others enjoy a three hour seated dinner, hopefully a sprinkling of good conversations, and possibly some board games. Even non-Christians hold Christmas close to their hearts and consider it an important family holiday to be together.

 

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Prepare yourself for a culinary extravaganza.

The stereotypical Dutch, who pride themselves on being thrifty, throw caution in the wind and put a lot of effort in preparing a culinary extravaganza. Depending on a Dutch family’s personal preferences, variations of an elaborate Christmas meal include: a four-five course meal prepared days in advance, often consisting of game meats such as turkey, venison, goose, or hare; fondues of different cheeses, vegetables and/or meats; and gourmetten – grilling at the table where everyone can cook bite-sized pieces of luxury meats and vegetables to their heart’s content. The festivities continue with a Christmas brunch the next day where one can enjoy Christmas stollen (round bread with currents and raisins), various almond sweets, bread rolls, pates, smoked salmon, cured meats and different cheeses. Other typical Dutch Christmas treats that may make guests appearances are: Duivekater (a sweet festive bread), Kerstkransjes (Christmas wreath cookies), Kerstkrans (wreath shaped pastries glazed with different fruits and filled with almond paste, like a round banketstaaf), Jan Hagel cookies (fragrant and flaky Christmas cookies), Kerststol (fruited Christmas loaf), and Banketstaaf (pastry logs with sweet almond paste).

 

Christmas markets.

Part of the Dutch Christmas time gezelligheid are the various Christmas markets. Here people can buy Christmas wreaths, candles, and various Christmas decorations to bring “light” and good cheer to the holiday festivities. And of course, they can start purchasing the specialty ingredients for the Christmas meals. The charm of these Christmas markets is also that many stalls are a home-grown affair selling things made by local food artisans, craftsmen, florists and other artists.

 

Dreaming of a White Christmas and ice-skating.

A lot of Nederlanders dream of having a snowy, white Christmas (just like any other place that seasonally snows during this time of the year). Before the advent of global warming, many can look forward to some outdoor ice-skating on natural ice as part of the family festivities. With the uncharacteristic weather conditions the Netherlands has currently been experiencing this year, we might possibly get our wish to have a white Christmas with iceskating. And then we can all eat a healthy bowl of erwtwensoep (Dutch split pea soup) and a warm cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream.

 

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Here’s to wishing everyone a prettige kerstdagen (merry Christmas days)!

christmas in different lands 2014
 

This post is part of the Multicultural Kid Blogs ‘Christmas In Different Lands’ series. Each day of December up until the 25th a different blogger around the world will share a part of their family Christmas. Check back each day for seasonal inspiration, from crafts to recipes, family traditions and more!

 

4 Reasons to Love Sint Maarten | Saint Martin

10 November 2014
By

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As an American mom living in the Netherlands, I’m trying to figure which traditions and holidays to continue celebrating and which ones to skip. One of the holidays I’m still on the fence about is Halloween. Ironically, despite its roots in Scotland and Ireland (Samhain), Halloween is a distinctly American tradition. The celebration of Halloween is a special day for lighthearted, community-sanctioned mischief, totally devoid of meaning and the best example of runaway consumerism. I personally love it.

 

While Halloween has taken over England, it still hasn’t reached the Netherlands. Outside the American expat santuaries of Amsterdam, Den Haag, and Utrecht, Halloween is simply another day. This year we decided not to bother with Halloween and rather celebrate the Dutch tradition of Saint Martin (Sint Maarten of Tours) instead. Being the only Americans in the village, it wasn’t a challenging decision to make. Plus, the two celebrations are actually quite similar under the premise that it’s a children’s holiday involving going door-to-door and recieving special treats or sweets.

 

In the spirit of spreading some Dutch cultural pride (my son is half-Dutch after all), here are four reasons to love the Dutch tradition of Sint Maarten (Saint Martin) in the Netherlands:

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1. Saint Martin’s Day is celebrated every November 11 in honor of Martin of Tours. 

Martin was a Roman soldier remembered for having a kind heart, being wise and readily helpful. Tradition and folklore has it that one day when he was approaching the gates of the city of Amiens (modern-day France), he met a scantily clad begger who was asking for alms. Martin impulsively cut his military cloak in half to share with the man. Later that night, he dreamed that it was actually Jesus with whom he shared his cloak with. Soon after, Martin left the army and was baptised.

Saint Martin is regarded as a friend of the children and patron of the poor in the Catholic tradition. November 11 is the day that Saint Martin passed away. Saint Martin’s day is traditionally an old harvest festival that is celebrated in many European countries and precedes the fasting period of Advent, which begins on November 12. Though the modern day celebration of Saint Martin in the Netherlands is now non-secretarian, I love how I can still share the story of a random act of kindness.

 

2.  Part of the celebration involves an informal parade of hand-crafted, or store bought lanterns made out of paper as children go around the neighborhood, door to door.

Traditionally, children’s lanterns were made out of hollowed out sugar beets or turnips hanging on a string tied to a wooden stick. Now children often decorate their own paper lanterns at school, or purchase it at the local grocery store. As soon as the sun sets, which often feels like around 4:30 p.m., small groups of Dutch children make processions around their neighborhoods with their latterns.

There’s something romantic and nostalgic about seeing little children with little paper latterns going door-to-door and lighting up the dark, cold “winter” night. The “11th day of the 11th month” after all, is traditionally considered to be the first day of “winter” according to the agricultural calendar.

 

3. “Earning” their treats by making them sing for it.

Rather than saying “Trick-or-Treat”, Dutch children are expected to sing songs.

The most popular song is:

Sint Maarten, Sint Maarten (Saint Martin, Saint Martin)
De Koeien hebben staarten  (The cows have tails)
De Meisjes hebben rokjes aan (The girls are wearing skirts)
Daar komt Sinte Maarten aan (There comes Saint Martin)

My favorite is the one that goes:

11 november is de dag, 
dat mijn lichtje, dat mijn lichtje,
11 november is de dag,
dat mijn lichtje schijnen mag.

12 november is de dag,
dat de tandarts, dat de tandarts,
12 november is de dag,
dat de tandarts boren mag.
There’s something more honest, wholesome and innoncent about singing a “song” in exchange for some sweets rather than a mischivious “threat”.

 

4. Absolutely no costumes, no fuss, no organized fun. Money saved.

For parents who don’t like fuss, wasteful preparations, and spending money they may not have, Sint Maarten seems like a dream. Since children often make these paper latterns at school, it’s also much less of a time commitment and a hassel.

Okay, let’s stop beating around the bush here. Saint Martin is a great way for us (American expat parents) to get a bit of “Halloween” without having to spend money on costumes.

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Extra Random Trivia for Utrecht Lovers:

Have you ever taken the time to look at the coat of arms and the city flag of Utrecht? Did you know that it was made in honor of Saint Martin, the patron saint of Utrecht?  As my “historian” Dutch husband loves to point out, the red part is the Roman coat and the white part is the undergarment of Saint Martin.

 

As much as I love Halloween, I am relieved that it doesn’t exist in the Netherlands. In fact, neither is Sint Maarten. Sint Maarten is practiced only a handful of pockets in the Low Countries – traditionally in Utrecht, Limburg, Noord-Holland, Groningen, Friesland, Drenthe and Noord Brabant. Perhaps it’s about time that the Dutch embrace this beautiful tradition as an entire country?

 

 

(Photos from last year’s Sint Maarten celebration)

 

From the Cutting Room Floor: A Letter to My Two Year Old Son

5 November 2014
By

hello-november

Dear Bram Jr.,

 

When I was pregnant with you, I had lofty aspirations and unrealistic expectations. I actually believed that If I allocated eight months (my entire pregnancy) of doing absolutely nothing but researching and reading all the highest rated parenting books according to Amazon and the New York Times, then everything would play out according to my plans. I was the perfect parent before I had you.

 

Part of the plan was to be writing monthly letters to you inspired by one of my favorite blogs – Nurshable. The premise would be to highlight your different quirks, personalities and milestones month by month. Helicopter-attachment-parenting at it’s absolute best, or worst, depending on whose opinion you’re soliciting. Obviously that didn’t happen because this is my first letter to you more than two and a half years after you were born. As a firm believer in self-improvement (I’m American after all), it’s never too late to start now.

 

So let’s get to the heart of our story shall we?

 

At two years and seven months, you make being a mom an absolutely wonderful experience. I’m starting to distrust the common myth of the terrible twos. Rather, I would like to re-name this wonderful age as the “terribly, terrific twos”.

 

You are so affectionate. You love random cuddles throughout the day and insist on falling asleep in my arms.

You’re very clear of what you do and do not want. And while you also have your set of preferences, you’re also open to and curious about discovering the world around you. I pray that you never loose this. Stay true to yourself.

 

You love to sing and dance. I’m not sure where you got that from because your dad and I are tone deaf and each have two left feet.

 

The infamous toddler tantrums are far and few inbetween simply because we finally learned your language, rythm and schedule. You sometimes get upset and tears are shed to release your frustration. It doesn’t last long. There isn’t a simple explanation, perhaps an apology in order and a cuddle that would make everything better.

 

You are absolutely crazy about everything and anything related to transportation vehicles – construction trucks, cranes, trains, motorcycles, boats, and cars.

 

You love books and reading, whether it’s imaginary play reading, or one of us reading out loud.

You’re proactive about being helpful with household chores. Though it does take longer, a lot of patience and holding back my tongue, I’m absolutely delighted when you “help” set the table, vacuum, and load/unload the laundry. I’m afraid that the concept of folding clothes hasn’t

 

You’ve discovered the joy of stickers, coloring and arts and crafts. Thank God for your preschool to organize those things for you.

 

You’re finally sleeping in till at least 8:30 a.m. In my mind, that’s an absolute miracle.

 

You love being outside, whether to play in the sandbox, jump on the trampoline, lie on the grass (or trampoline) and stare at the clouds above, run around in the garden, “bike” to your heart’s content, and take walks in the forest right outside our front door.

 

You’re a foodie! Although you won’t eat everything, you’re always willing to try something new and decide for yourself whether or not your like it. You absolutely love Filipino stews like Chicken Tinola (Chicken clear broth stew with lemon grass), Bulalo (beef marrow stew) and Sinigang (Tamarind soup) and Pinakbet (Filipino vegetable medley stew) with a generous helping of rice. When you’re hungry, you would simply say “Soup rice”, climb up your chair and sit expectantly at the dining table.

 

And of course, you are absolutely crazy over herring with onions, smeer kaas (spreadable cheese), hagelslag (chocolate sprinkles) with white bread and butter, and french fries. To get to your heart, a warm cup of chocolate milk always does the trick.

 

I was actually caught off-guard with how enjoyable parenting a toddler can be. Perhaps I read too much of Scary Mommy and The Huffington Post. Rather seeing the humor of all the wonderfully witty stories, I became anxious about this stage and dreaded it. Sarcasm sometimes gets lost in translation. Forgive me for being wrong.

Being a mommy blogger, I’m also careful to protect your privacy. There are the things unwritten and unsaid that will remain just between us. Though part of blogging is connecting to the bigger and larger world, to commiserate and share our experiences, I’m also coignizant that some things shouldn’t be shared unless with your permission. And right now, at two years and seven months, I have the foresight to gage that it’s a little too young and presumptious of me to ask it of you. But what I can share with conviction, is that overall, our life right now when you’re two years old is perfectly imperfect.

 

I don’t know how long this stage is going to last. The superstitious voice in my head (a byproduct of having Filipino parents) warns me that providing an honest snapshot of my personal life would mean sabotage. But the reality is, and it took me becoming a mother to internalize this fact, is that nothing in life is permanent. Not if, but when. The only things we have my dear son is now, our hopes, our dreams and each other.

 

These must be the precious handful of little children years that empty-nesters long for the most. When a young family’s life can be chaotic and exhausting, but delightfully simple and refreshingly ordinary. For now, there’s no worries about school bullies, fitting in, grades, standardized testing (CITO and Common Core come to my mind), schedules governed by soccer practices and music lessons. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there (which isn’t too long from now I’m afraid). There’s also no dealing with teenage hormones, resentment issues, drama and a whole boatload of other emotional landmines that adolescence may bring.

 

So for now, waking up from the fog of severe sleep deprivation and exhaustion the first year and a half brought (and occassionally still does), I’m reveling in the moment of the terribly, terrific twos.  Thank-you.

 

Love,

Your Mom

 

(Photo taken of my son at the Kröller-Müller Musem)

An Open Letter to My Son’s Preschool Teachers

14 October 2014
By

open-letter-to-my-sons-preschool-teachers

An Open Letter to My Son’s Preschool Teachers 

 

It’s been a little over a month since my two-and-half year old son started attending your preschool. At the expense of sounding like the neurotic American mom in this lovely Dutch village, I would love to share a few of my thoughts.

 

I have to confess that I initially had my reservations. There was no formal preschool application requesting a full summary of all the accomplishments our son made in the first 28 months of his life. No personal statements, no reference letters, nor our credentials were asked. There was only a single sheet requesting our family’s basic information – names, home address, occupations and a bank account number- and preferred days to attend. The only limitation was just how long the wait list happens to be. Thank-you for sparing us the unnecessary and ridiculous stress of trying to prove that our son is worthy of being part of an institutionalized playgroup.

 

For a brief moment I questioned whether or not the lack of exclusivity directly reflected the quality of preschool education my son was going to receive. Please forgive me for my momentary lapse in common sense and judgement. I’m still recovering from the ultra-competitive and selective private schools and higher education institutions that governed my daily reality for twenty years of my life (which speaks volumes because I’m thirty-two). It’s hard not to get emotional about this because my immigrant Filipino parents made tremendous sacrifices to guarantee that my inheritance would be a world-class education.

 

Your open door policy for all the little preschool children reflects your country’s steadfast belief that quality education is a universal right, not just for the privileged few. That all children, regardless of socioeconomic background and educational attainment of their parents, are to be educated to a high standard, starting with early childhood education.

 

I’m also a bit ashamed that I have no idea what the pedagogical philosophy of your nursery actually is. There’s no mention of Reggio Emilia, Waldorf, or Montessori. I took a leap of faith and trusted that your combined 80 years of experience and credentials in early education would suffice. From my understanding, you’re following the general set pedagogy outlined by the Dutch government. Brilliant. Because let’s all keep it real here (something the Dutch have a special talent for) – good, old-fashioned play is what should be at the heart of all preschools. The beautiful, underrated but essential act of playing is what almost all developmental psychologists, neuroscientists and education experts advise and emphasize for the seven year old and under crowd.

 

And we all know that if we have the time to have open-ended discussions about which educational “philosophy” perfectly complements our child’s socioemotional development and hence would best facilitate his future academic success, chances are that little Bram would be fine either way. Some would even argue that he wouldn’t need to go to preschool but that’s a whole other discussion.

 

Thank-you for your kindness and patience as you introduce my son to the concept of school. The time he spends at your preschool is possibly the most influential year and a half of my son’s educational trajectory – the crucial moment where he will either fall in love with “school”, or be dismayed by it. Your energy, creativity and passion demonstrate that you ladies understand this and are fully committed to helping instill a love of learning in all your students.

 

Thank-you for having great expectations of introducing him to the big kid world but also having the grace to understand that he’s also still a toddler and even sometimes, still very much a baby. Thank-you for the diaper changes (Bless your hearts!) and not requiring him to be fully potty trained before he’s truly ready. Thank-you for teaching him songs, different dances, and how to play with other kids. Thank-you for making his heart jump with joy when it’s time for a snack and teaching him to wait to eat it until everyone received their own. Thank-you for the daily art and crafts gifts personally made by him – it always feels like a mini Christmas when I come to pick him up. Thank-you for texting me a picture of my son happily sitting in the infamous kring (Dutch circle) during his very first day of preschool when you knew that my heart was breaking into a million pieces. And how for the first two weeks, you held and consoled him, wiping away his tears and worries while he adjusted to his new environment away from his mom. Thank-you for giving him back to me with the widest grin on his face when playschool’s over, just the right amount of being tired and his bright brown eyes sparkling from all the new discoveries of the day.

 

Thank-you.

 

Kind regards,

Rina Mae, the only American mom in the village.

20 of the Most Beautiful Dutch Children’s Books

7 October 2014
By

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In celebration of the 60th anniversary of the Kinderboekenweek (1-12 October 2014), I’ve compiled a list of twenty of the most beautiful Dutch children’s books.  I’m a firm believer that children’s books with illustrations are essential to a child’s development and imagination. Books with beautiful images are also great way to introduce a baby to the world and to hopefully entice them to fall in love with reading early on.

 

Here is a list of twenty Dutch books worth reading to your little one:

ROW ONE

1.  Nederland by Charlotte Dematons

2.  Sinterklaas by Charlotte Dematons

3.  De Gele Ballon by Charlotte Dematons

4.  Pluk van de Petteflet by Annie M.G. Schmidt and Fiep Westendorp

 

ROW TWO

5. Jip en Janneke by Annie M.G. Schmidt and Fiep Westendorp

6.  Jij Bent de Liefste by Hans and Monique Hagen, Illustrated by Marit Törnqvist

7. Mama Kwijt by Chris Haughton

8. Op een Grote Paddenstoel by Mies van Hout

 

ROW THREE

9.  De Paraplu by Ingrid and Dieter Schubert

10. Mijn Leuk Woordenboek by Richard Scarry

11. Het is Herfst by Rotraut Susanne Berner

12. Wij Samen Op Stap by Leo Timmers and Jean Reidy

 

ROW FOUR

13. Fabians Feest by Marit Törnqvist

14. WIj Samen op Stap by Leo Timmers and Jean Reidy

15. Nijnte aan Zee by Dick Bruna

16. Zoveel als de Wereld Hou Ik van Jou by Harrie Geelen and Imme Dros

 

ROW FIVE

17. Het Grote Rijksmuseum Voorleesboek by Thijs Goverde, Pieter Feller & Bibi Dumon Tak

18. Fiet Wil Rennen by Bibi Dumon Tak and Noëlle Smit

19. Aadje Piraatje by Marjet Huiberts

20. Het Gouden Helden Boek by Diversen and Fiona Rempt, Co-Authored by Joseph Jacobs, Virginia Parsons and Jane Werner

 

(Images: As Linked)

(Image credits: Nederland by Charlotte Dematons)

InstaDutchland -Markthal Rotterdam

6 October 2014
By

instadutchland-markthal-1

 

The lines of cars filing into the city of Rotterdam were invariably packed with self-proclaimed gourmands, architect buffs, modern art enthusiasts and curious day trippers. They’re eventually met by locals – cyclists and pedestrians – all congregating towards the middle of the city’s sprawling Blaak market square. The sense of urgency and excitement was palpable as they navigated towards parking spaces, entry ways, escalators and elevators. Their faces, softened by the Autumn sunlight, hungrily looked towards a mammoth horseshoe structure.

 

The building is the Markthal (Market Hall), Rotterdam’s latest architectural pride and joy. Designed by Winy Maas of Dutch architectural firm MVRDV, the country’s first indoor market opened last Wednesday (1 October 2014). It’s a food lover’s mecca – a sistine chapel of market stalls offering local, organic produce, artisanal gourmet crafts, restaurants, and regular Dutch fair. The Markthal is also a living community with 230 apartments built into the arch shaped structure.

 

The biggest surprise for us was the “Horn of Plenty” – a digital mural of 4,000 tiles that covers 36,000 square feet and displays brilliant high-resolution images of fish, vegetables, fruits and other items. Staring up at the spectacular mural makes one feel like one just went down Alice in Wonderland’s psychedelic rabbit hole. In collaboration with famed cartoon animator Pixar, Dutch artist Arno Coenen created a 3D optical illusion of produce and fauna falling from the sky. It’s art appreciation at its finest as people of all ages seemed mesmerized and in awe of the largest artwork in the world.

 

And the Markthal is definitely something for Rotterdam to be proud of. Markthal had garnered international intrigue and helped solidify Rotterdam’s place in The New York Times annual 52 Places to Go list in 2014. Not to forget to mention that it’s a “one up” in the friendly rivalry among “Amsterdammers” and “Rotterdammers”. Who could blame the Rotterdammers for being a bit smug and proud, whom like the rest of the tourist-worthy cities like Utrecht and Den Haag, had compete to play second fiddle to her more glamorous, world-renowned sister Amsterdam since time immemorial?

Processed with Moldiv

 

Being a former Erasmus University graduate student (which explains my natural soft spot for Rotterdam), I couldn’t help but contemplate what the implications of installing a luxury, world-class marketplace would have to it’s overall character and personality. Rotterdam has been traditionally characterized as industrious, hardworking, down-to-earth…and working class. According to Judith Thissen in Industrial Cities: History and Future, Rotterdam gained the reputation of being a werkstad – a working class city- as early as the 1870s.

 

Rotterdam’s evolution from a blue-collar industrial area to an architect’s paradise and now  foodie destination has its roots in the city’s seaport – the Port of Rotterdam and World War II. After the Rotterdam Blitz where virtually the entire historic city center was demolished (as informed by every single Rotterdammer who comes across a foreigner or tourist), the reconstruction of Rotterdam became a playground for modernist architects. But the seaport, one of the largest in Europe and considered its gateway, and its middle class laborers, are still the bread and butter of Rotterdam.

 

The resulting hodgepodge of different modernist architectural styles was an urban city that didn’t fit the Dutch mold of gezelligheid. Local Rotterdam authorities have vocalized for years how difficult it was to attract residents and visitors to the urban jungle of concrete. According to Rotterdam mayor Ahmed Aboutaleb, there was an overall consensus to “draw more residents and visitors to the center of Rotterdam, especially residents with a higher income who consequently support services in the city center.” Hence Markthal is a clear example of attempts at gentrification, a not-so-secret strategy for drawing in wealthier clientele into Rotterdam. But I wondered whether, or not targeting a certain clientele would be at the expense of driving away and alienating everyday citizens.

 

While we strolled around the expansive Markthal, fighting the infamous Dutch crowds, I realized that my concerns were a bit naive. I made a loud sigh of relief when the everyday items – bread, cheeses, french fries, baked goods, and vegetables – were priced the same as what could be found at any other local market. For example, Mei Sum Bakery offered delicious Asian treats for the same price of €10 for 12 pieces as their flagship location at West Kruiskade. While Markthal might initially seem a bit out of place in juxtaposition to Rotterdam’s more modest character, I can sense the desire of local Rotterdammers (from all different backgrounds) to make something out of their beloved city’s new treasure. In fact, while my heart shouted out with glee with all the wonderful food, I became convinced that the Markthal was the new heart of Rotterdam.

 

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The future looks bright Rotterdam. Welcome to taking your rightful place as a world class destination.

 

P.S. Come connect with me on my Instragram account. Aside from writing, photography is my other passion.

InstaDutchland

29 September 2014
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Staying true to making my blog more of a love letter, I’m starting a new blogging series called “InstaDutchland” posted (ambitiously) every Monday. Naturally, the hashtag I’m using is #InstaDutchland.

Inspired by my blogger friends Deepa from Currystrumpet and Esther from Urban Moms, I’m going to share with you guys my favorite new discoveries and regular places that nourish my soul. It’s also a special nod to one of my first readers who asked me to show her the Netherlands. There’s so many wonderful gems, especially hidden ones, scattered throughout this small Western European country. Hopefully it can ignite some wanderlust. Or even encourage locals to play tourist. At the very least, I hope it inspires people to simply step out of there homes and find beauty (nature, art, love, random acts of kindness) waiting outside of their doorstep.

On a more personal level, it’s a way for me to pause and to document the little things that bring joy to me and my family.

 

Here are my favorite “finds” for the week of September 22-28, 2014 (Yes, my “week” is from Monday to Sunday, at least for the first time around).

 

Verfdokter (Springweggarage)

verfdokter utrecht

  “The world is but a canvas to the imagination.” – Henry David Thoreau

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We were happily surprised to discover an artistic rendition of Utrecht’s historic Oudegracht at one of the most unlikely places – at the side of the Springweg garage. Graffiti artists Hendrik and Robert-Jan Brink, also known as the verfdokters (the paint doctors) painted the scene with the owner’s permission. It’s conveniently located right behind the Oudegracht and in close proximity to our favorite stores. We were absolutely thrilled and couldn’t resist a spontaneous photo shoot with my son.

 

The Zelfgemaakte Markt (ZGM)

Utrecht Art Fair

 

The Zelfgemaakte Markt (ZGM) is basically an Etsy’s fanatic’s dream come true. It’s a market where handmade and handcrafted goodies made by local Dutch artists, designers, gourmands and anything else that falls within the artisanal category. The clever namesake “Zelfgemaakte Markt” is translated as “I made it myself.” Adding to it’s novelty is the location – the Mariaplaats, a historical market site since 1391. Staying true to the Dutch love of thrift, all the items were reasonably priced and many would be considered steals. I couldn’t resist buying my toddler son a whale and two pillows made by SpijkerGoed for €40. SpijkerGoed is a new initiative started by two sister-in-laws bringing some new life to old jeans in the form of pillows, stuffed animals, and bags. I have a sneaking suspicion that I may have been their first customer!

 

Bartimeus Moestuin Doorn

Moestuin Doorn

 

When my dearest friend invited me to Baritimus Moestuin Doorn for a family date, I came with an open-mind. The website was relatively nondescript about the vegetable garden, leaving lots of room for imagination. In all honesty, I was more interested in seeing my friend and her family more than exploring a new place. Just entering the walled grounds where the garden was located was breathtaking. It’s possibly the most peaceful place I’ve ever visited for a while. We were completely awestruck to say the least.

 

It felt like a hipster’s fairy tale, the kind that you read in magazines, come to life. The inner geek in me was suddenly reminded of The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett – a magical place where one goes to seek sanctuary among the blooms and with one another. I’m convinced that it’s one of those places that have to visit yourself to fully comprehend it’s beauty. The added bonus: it’s literally only a five minute bike ride from my own home nestled in the woods of Doorn.

 

Perhaps my favorite find in vegetable garden is Theehuis ’t Sand. It was by far the prettiest cup of coffee I’ve ever had. I felt so fancy. And it might be just the right place for me to occasionally get some writing done. 

Next Saturday (4 October 2014) there is going to be the stekken-en-oogstmarkt (cuttings and harvest market) from 11:00 am to 3:00pm. Entrance is € 2,50 per person. Address: Driebergestraatweg 44, Doorn.

 

All photos taken on my IPhone 5s cause I’m “old school” like that. Come follow me on Instagram – I’d love and appreciate the company!

The Space In Between

24 September 2014
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startingover

I didn’t intend to go (relatively) silent in the blogverse back in June.

The initial excuse – moving – holds some substantial weight. I was responsible for 98% of the packing and unpacking. Despite all my best intentions to prepare and plan, life got inconvenient and a bit messy. Setting up a new home with a clingy, curious toddler and a husband overburdened and overcommitted with work was a lot more challenging than I had anticipated.

All those weeks and months in between, I’ve written (mostly in my head) a dozen, or so articles about parenting, motherhood, and life in the Netherlands. Feedly, Pocket and Evernote became my best-friends, littered and cluttered with saved columns and hastily written down notes that only I could decipher. Keeping good on my promise though was regularly updating my Facebook page. I didn’t want to lose touch with those who are kind enough to read my words, who give me support and encouragement with every like, comment and message.

Now that I finally find the time and space to sit behind my computer, I stumble, unable to fill words on a blank screen. I hesitate. Pause. Breathe. Where does one even begin again?

It took me nine long, hard-earned years to find a place in the Netherlands that I could finally see myself settling in.  I’ll always have a soft spot for Utrecht, the place where my husband and son were born. But it wasn’t a place where my heart wanted to establish roots – not with a young family. Maybe in a couple of years but not now, not with my little boy who loves exploring the world.  I didn’t like the mom I was in Utrecht- the “No” kind of mom intent on keeping my curious child alive and safe, who doesn’t understand the incessant dangers of canals, bikes, mopeds, and cars.

We weren’t the Dutch suburbia kind either – the perfectly manicured lawns, identical newly built homes and quiet characteristic of all commuter towns didn’t feel quite right. My allergies against 12 different types of grasses and allergy-induced asthma held me hostage at home, unable to freely roam the suburb built in the heart of endless Dutch grassfields. When weekends came, we were always a bit too enthusiastic to get out and explore, unable to comfortably stay local. We weren’t unhappy in Houten, but if we were truly honest, we were a bit too lonely and bored.

Eventually we found ourselves regularly driving towards the Dutch forests. We loved wandering aimlessly through the wooded paths, the clean air and the space. And so on a whim, we decided to move to Doorn, a small village of 10,000 people nestled within the Utrechtse Heuvelrug National Park. Utrecht, or Amersfoort were only a twenty minute car ride away, but we felt like we were miles and miles away from the chaos of urban city life.

It wasn’t necessarily all the responsibilities with the move that prevented me from writing. Granted, it was impossible for me to ignore the boxes and the ensuing frustrations of living disheveled and disorganized. Someone had to settle us in and that someone was me, myself and I. As many writers can enthusiastically attest to, unless there is an environment that fosters creativity, any attempt at writing would be in vain. I needed to set up my entire home (not just my designated writing room) to clear my mind.

But one can hide behind the “just moved-in” excuse for only so long. No, there was something else going on with me. I started flirting around with the idea of my own impermanence, about what if my Catholic upbringing misled me to believe that my consciousness would be perfectly intact?  What if Stephen Hawking was right, that “there is no heaven or afterlife for broken-down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark.” If life were a movie, you can press play to REM’s Losing My Religion, the mandolin chords giving way to universally familiar words, “That’s me in the corner. That’s me in the spotlight, losing my religion.”

Sorry for sounding melodramatic. I am a writer after all and the artistic license of being emotional applies to me just as much as a musician, painter, dancer, photographer, designer and what ever other creative outlet there is. I feel things. Deeply.

Ironically, it was finally being able to find a place to call home and in a good place that served as a catalyst for my mild existential crisis. Life is good – so good that it hurts. I started asking the hard questions – Why am I writing? What am I writing about? To Whom am I writing to? Why Should I Continue to Write? Is what I am writing about even interesting to people?

 

I’m starting over. It’s official. I’ll continue writing about life in the Netherlands and all my cultural observations of the Dutch. I’m also now intent on curating my blog as an on going love letter to my son and my husband. Along the way, I’m going to foster a community of expats, Nederlanders, moms, dads and anyone else who’d love to receive random updates of my life in the Netherlands, of stories that move the spirit and anything else in between celebrating life.

 

I hope you continue to follow me on my journey. Here’s to Finding Dutchland, whereever you may be.

Oh Captain, My Captain -Robin Williams

15 August 2014
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In general I tend to shy away from writing about tragedies and heartaches that surround us. In this crazy, mixed-up world where they shoot down planes, neighbors being cruel to one another and militarized police attack protesters and journalists, it’s hard not to tune-out. I love to create a space on the internet that provides some distraction from the heartbreaking realities of our world. I want my blog to be a source of inspiration, possibly bring some laughter, provide camaraderie through shared experiences and at the very least, to feel a little lighter.

 

But I’m finding it impossible to remain silent as I feel the collective outpouring of grief for the sudden passing of Robin Williams. As the lachrymose eulogies of Robin Williams continue to flood, it’s evident that he was the most beloved American actor and comedian of our time. For Millennials, Robin Williams was our childhood. Babyboomers came of age virtually at the same time as he did.

 

As Williams once quipped, “Well, you just try and keep it in perspective; you have to remember the best and the worst. In America they really do mythologize people when they die.”

 

At the expense of sounding trite and being cliché, please allow me to also take the time to thank this man renowned for his comedic genius and kindness.

 

Because my grief, also being experienced by the countless others around me, is real. 

 

For me, Robin Williams was my America.

 

Williams was the rare common ground, the (sad) clown that my American-weary Filipino parents could enjoy watching with their children. For those few moments (far and few inbetween), my immigrant parents set aside their uncompromising views of life and laughed with us.

 

For someone who wasn’t allowed much of a childhood, watching his films enabled me to steal moments of simply being a child – a rare, safe space where my mother’s mania and depression couldn’t haunt me. Movies and tv shows obviously aren’t reality but for a child who desperately needed some adult compassion, his performances went a long way to giving me some momentary happiness and escape. What else would a five-year old child who walked home from school to an empty apartment do but watch television? Or what about those endless weeks of summer of being left alone to either read, or watch TV because God forbid playing outside would make me darker to my parent’s chagrin? Suffice to say summer camps, family vacations and stable home environments were not a shared experience for this child of working-class Filipino parents.  What did remain fairly consistent and reliable were the chances of the prolific acting and comedy routines of Robin Williams being on television or readily accessible on the VCR.

 

As I grew alongside his movies, I learned about America, random pop culture trivia and the world. Because when you don’t have parents who believed in having conversations with their children except for giving commands and criticism – books, movies and media become major players in shaping one’s perspective of the world and navigating the perilous world of childhood and adolescence.

 

What probably made Robin Williams’ presence more palpable was that we shared a common home – San Francisco. He was the local celebrity with whom there was a real possibility of randomly running into (unfortunately we never did). As with all celebrities, whispers of his own demons only made more evident by his candidness of them, simply became a blasé footnote when I became a young adult. And to my geeky embarrassment, the first time I stepped into the Sistine Chapel, I took a deep breath, smelled the air around me and looked up. After all, it was because of Robin Williams’ lecture in Good Will Hunting that I first learned about the masterpiece and started dreaming that one day, maybe I too could lay my eyes on it (I know, I’m a big sap). It wasn’t that I celebrated the existence of Robin Williams everyday (that would too melodramatic and disingenuous), but rather his influence enriched my reality, inciting me to laugh, dream, hope…and simply be human, complete with imperfections and wobbly bits.

 

So when news of his death came crashing down my Facebook feed, I couldn’t help but mutter the words, “Oh Captain… My Captain…” in dismay. For a moment, in my foggy recollection of What Dreams May Come, I fantasized that since millions of people genuinely loved him, chances are that he would be in heaven, or probably re-incarnating back into the world next week. My eternal optimism is partly his fault any way.

 

I can guarantee you that when the time comes, my little boy will also watch Aladdin, Mrs. Doubtfire, Good Will Hunting, What Dreams May Come, Jumanji, Bird Cage, and Mork & Mindy for starters. Maybe he too can learn a couple things about my America as well. But most of all, I hope that he can perceive and try to emulate the kindness that Robin Williams bestowed upon the world. I’ll be there to give my son a helping hand.

Robin Williams Instagram

“...that you are here; that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”

 

Your verse will continue to linger and bring joy Robin Williams. How tragic that you were consumed by so much darkness when you brought the world so much light. God Bless.

 

 

(Photo source: Instagram of Robin Williams)