Caitlin Aimee Jonkman Turns Four

In the beginning ...

Today.

Happy Birthday, Caitlin!

Alter Bridge Does Amsterdam

Last night Jennifer and I went to see Alter Bridge in Amsterdam.

We arrived about an hour before their opening act was due to start so we went for a bite to eat first. Afterwards we wandered over to the HMH and on the way encountered two of my students which was nice as one of them couldn't/wouldn't stop raving about how great my hair looked.

Once at and in the venue we got ambushed by a lady with a clipboard followed by a camera crew. They wanted to know if we minded answering a few questions for the band's tour DVD. Er, no but no idea how useful we'll be since we don't really know anything about the band. First question: What's your name and where do you come from? Everyone who knows me knows that the second part of that question is a bit of a tricky one for me and Jenn since we don't really come from where we sound like we come from. So we just said Ede, The Netherlands. Anyone who cross-references with a certain Drum Off video might get confused as I answered "Amsterdam" that time. What is with me and getting my mug on internet and DVD media?

Second question: How long have you been a fan of the band? Euh ... no idea, really. Didn't exactly have Marcel around to ask him when he picked me up from the station in Utrecht and drove me home with Alter Bridge playing the whole way, now, did I? So I guessed at two years. Jenn had a clearer answer; since she'd heard them at Rock Am Ring.

Third question: Favourite song? Euh ... I had a brain fart. I actually do know a lot of their songs but for the life of me couldn't think of a single title. So I went for the title of their latest album. And my reason for liking it? "Because everything just works so well" And from the first album? Euh ... everything? I like all the songs off of the first album. Lame, lame, lame.

Fourth question: What are you expecting from tonight? "A really good show". Yeah, I really said that.

Last question: Favourite band member? Now, I couldn't even name any of the band members walking into that venue let alone pinpoint a favourite so I said "All of them". Oh wow, will I ever shine for originality.

Anyway, we headed in, found a nice spot and settled in for the opening act, Logan. A lovely band from Glasgow, Scotland. They blew us both away. Only one thing I didn't like. The one song I totally fell in love with, Hold My Hand, is not on their CD (which I bought right after they finished) nor is it *anywhere* that I can find on the internet, legal or otherwise. I am miffed. How very dare they play a song I can never listen to again?? And make me fall in love with it, no less. :(

Logan's guitar player in full swing.

After Logan wrapped up and Jenn and I went for another drink the "real" show got started. We were informed that the band were recording their live album right there and then in Amsterdam. Very cool indeed. I may just have to buy that.

The show was amazing! Lots of rocking songs and a very laid back crowd, just out to have a good night out with some great live music. My personal highlights were a beautiful accoustic version of Watch Over You, Blackbird with the "original" song by the Beatles as an intro, a heart-rending version of In Loving Memory that didn't leave a dry eye in the house and, my actual favourite from the first album, Broken Wings that I recognized from that first, deep bass note. Fab, fab, fab.

The crowd during the encore

Part of the encore

Reilly brothers Al and Steve from the band Logan in their rather chaotic but very endearing signing line.

It was a marvellous evening. I had such a good time and was grinning ear to ear all the way home and for pretty much the whole day today. I highly recommend their live show if they come to a town near you. And, should you decide to buy their 2008 tour DVD, keep your eyes peeled for a pair of Dutch/Scotch sisters making boobs of themselves. ;)

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like ...

... December. And it snuck up on me. It snowed today (but didn't stick) which is what reminded me. Normally I have Christmas songs playing in October and I have to force myself not to watch any Christmas movies yet. But not this year. I got completely surprised by the snow. And then I got a Christmas themed forward asking about your habits and preferences in the holiday season.

Living on my own, I don't really have any habits. I did set up the tree the first Christmas I lived at the Merlin and the second as well, I believe, but I didn't in 2007 because I went to America for the holidays. I won't be setting it up this year, either. Not because I am away travelling but because I simply don't have any room for it. I have packed my little apartment to bursting and I quite like it that way. I may buy some tinsel and decorate some random items (picture frames, lamps, a cat or two - I promise to take pictures) but I cannot see myself waging war on the twinkle lights again this year. Speaking of which, I have never actually seen them twinkle in all of their existence.

So this year I forgo the sparkly cat poo and/or puke (they won't eat expensive cat food but they'll eat tinsel??). I pass on the tree and putting presents under it. I heartily put my nose up to an afternoon/early evening spent sweating over the assembly of a plastic tree and I won't get mad at the cats for getting in the [insert expletive of choice here] way.

But I am no Scrooge. Oh no! I am looking forward to cozy nights in, cuddled up on the couch with a quilt and a pair of affectionate cats lying close an vying for cuddles. A warm cup of tea or hot chocolate within arms reach, Bing Crosby crooning a familiar tune either on the stereo or on the TV in my umpteenth viewing of White Christmas.

I am looking forward to Christmas dinner with my family, eating turkey, roast potatoes and all the trimmings. Bella eating everything she can beg borrow or steal and Caitlin suspiciously eyeing everything that doesn' t look like chicken as though it may bite her or worse, she may like it. Sitting around the table, laughing, enjoying good food and being merry.

I am also looking forward to the more open affection that comes with this time of year. People more ready to hug, smile and let things that aren't really important go. That warm, rosy glow that people get that is beautifully contagious.

And then ringing in the New Year. Surrounded by friends and more laughter. Vowing to better ourselves in the coming year and fully believing our resolutions in that moment of celebration. I haven't made a resolution in half a decade, I believe, but I may be tempted to this year.

I dislike the cold but I *do* like December. Bleak as this dead and chilly time of the year is, this final gasp of the year, I find it the month with the most hope. It's the month where my spirit is warmest even though most of the time I can't feel my toes.

So good cheer to all and get the most out of this last month of the year! I am thinking of you and holding you close in my toasty heart. <3

More Liverpool Pictures

Disembarking the plane. John Lennon Airport, Liverpool. November 5th 2008

What do we find? An MTV EMA poster! So, we pose. Of course.

Walking to the hotel, sightseeing and looking very cool.


Still looking cool, but checking the map, just to be sure.

The Yellow Duck Marine. Of course.

Magical Mystery Tour? Needs shades, sez we.

And again. I am such a picture whore.

Unadopted Street?? Say wut?

Peertje has a beer with an incognito. News at eleven.

I am *not* addicted to my phone. This is a coincidence. Rly.

THEY WON!!!

Geek faces in The Cavern Club

Defacing private property -- bird's eye view

Defacing private property -- Part II

Really, I am *so* not addicted to my phone. At all. Rly.

Whatever.

All photo credit to Miriam Peertje. <3>

Penny Lane

Better late than never, right? Right. So, here follow my (abridged) adventures in Liverpool, November 5th - 8th.

It actually started on the 4th when I went to Amsterdam to sleep over at Sandra's house. See, our flight to Liverpool was at stupid o'clock on Wednesday morning and there was no way that Miriam and I were going to make it to the airport by public transport. So we cut a huge chunk out of the trip by staying overnight in Amsterdam. And then we let Sandra come along. :)

We woke up early on Wednesday, turned on the TV and were delighted to see the new president elect, Barack Obama. We felt it was a good omen and embarked on our adventure in good spirits. (side note, the free papers, obviously not knowing who'd won when they went to press, solved this rather ingeniously -- they had a front page with OBAMA! and then, in brackets (if McCain won, turn over). On the back page it said McCAIN! with the opposite turn over message, had Obama won).

Miriam and I wait for the tram to take us to the train which took us to the plane. Photo by Sandra.

We landed safe and sound in Liverpool and took the bus to our hotel. It wasn't until we were on a parallel street to our hotel that I realized it was the same one I stayed in the last time I was in Liverpool, roughly a year and a half before. Go me and my sense of direction. We left our luggage (room wasn't ready) and headed out into Liverpool itself to do some exploring.

We had seats booked on the Magical Mystery Tour that afternoon, and after some peeking around in Liverpool, we caught the bus and let ourselves be swept away in Beatles history and trivia. Our tour guide was hilarious and really made an effort to give us as much extra information as possible. We saw Strawberry Fields, Penny Lane, George Harrison's house growing up, John Lennon's and Paul McCartney's parents' last residence. We got dropped off at the rebuilt Cavern Club at the end of the 2½ tour and that became our standard meeting place from then on.

Caption? No caption? Speaks for itself, really.

Sandra, Miriam and I at some red gate near some fields.

Thursday was spent shopping (in the morning), did the Beatles Story Museum and then we were freezing (mostly) in the afternoon. See, for those of you that don't know, there was a little shin-dig called the MTV European Music Awards that night in Liverpool and, well, we didn't have tickets. But some band we all like was set to host the VIP bar there and (possibly) win some awards, so we were after a glimpse. We brilliantly missed them by fifteen minutes before the show and then, after the show, we saw the singer for all of a minute. Good thing I've seen him a few times before or that might have been a waste of time.

Singer, Jared Leto, lost in a sea of security vests.

Friday we sort of split up into groups and Sandra and I went to a Le Corbusier exhibition in "The Crypt". After that, we went shopping. Are we seeing a theme here? Afterwards we all met up at The Cavern Club again and decided to do a little bit of destruction of private property.

Signing a table.




Signing the wall.

Saturday we, er, shopped again and then caught an afternoon flight home. So yeah, I went to Liverpool and bought stuff. And learned a bit about the Beatles. Fin.

If You're Happy and You Know It ...

I love the children's song "If You're Happy and You Know It (Clap Your Hands)". And I love it more because that's the only verse I am sure of.

Today, however, that song got me thinking. What if you are happy, but you don't know it? *beat* Give that a second to actually sink in. What if you really are happy but you have convinced yourself that you aren't?

I will explain my apostrophe (Hook reference - Mr Smee says "I think I've had an apostrophe" whereupon a very weary Capt'n Hook says "I think you mean an epiphany" -- love that movie. However, I digress ... bringing you back to the point now ... ), it came to me as I was trying to figure out if I liked being back at work or not.

I will have to (badly) explain a joke that made me think of the happy vs not happy thing in the first place: There's this store that sells men and it has seven floors. On each floor there is a type of man and you are free to take one from any floor. Each floor has an improved version. Floor One has a guy who will love you, take out the garbage and remember your anniversary. Well, each floor gets more and more extensive until you get to Floor Seven ... this floor has NO men, it sends you back to the entrance. Reason: If you hadn't found a man by then, there was no pleasing you. The punchline was that no woman ever left with a man because they always want something better.

It got me thinking. What if what you have is already making you happy but you are not seeing it because you are focussing on what you could be having instead?

To relate it back to me, the following: I left my job because I was unhappy there (I do not regret this decision in the least, best thing I've ever done for myself). However --- Now that I am back at the same school and teaching again, I have to wonder what it was that made me unhappy before (don't get me wrong, I have some very concrete ideas on this but none of them negate the absolute enjoyment I get from teaching. I keep talking about teaching ... all the time. People say that it's clear when I talk about it that I have a love for it).

I left because I wanted to discover a job that made me happy. I couldn't possibly be completely fulfilled doing something that was my last minute choice for college (because you could still sign in and I hadn't thought of anything else, yet), could I? Finding your calling in the job world does not happen by fluke, does it? You don't "accidentally" find the job that you love, do you? It can't possibly be a job that got handed to you. Can it? Really? Can it? Because all of the above apply to how I got started at the OSB.

In order to figure this out, I had to do an inventory. I have a few "gimmies" (read: meaning "give me's"), as my math teacher used to call factual components of an equation:
1) I do really love teaching kids the English language.
2) I do really enjoy working with teens and seeing them evolve into adults.
3) I enjoy the system the school I worked at, and am now back at, employs.
4) I enjoy the dialogue between me and my colleagues and, especially, me and the students.
5) I do not like being responsible for other people (read: students) and their conflicts and problems in life
6) I do not like parents (okay, I like some, but not a whole heckuva lot of them).
7) I do not like justifying my methods or reasons to parents or other people.

So, let's just take a step back and draw some conclusions.

My bottom line becomes the following: I love teaching. And, if I must say so myself, I am pretty damn good at it. I do not like being a mentor. I like "having a class" but I do not like the feeling that I am not "solving their problems" enough or making their life better. I realize those are unrealistic goals, but it's what I want to achieve nonetheless and it's frustrating to come nowhere near that goal, year after year.

But why do I immediately think my ideal job should be spotless, free of conflict and any kind of emotional involvement? Why do I think that my perfect job will be one where I don't have to worry, care, work hard, or even hurt? Because some of these kids have made me hurt. And doubt. And worry. And that is really hard. The job that makes me happy shouldn't be (emotionally) hard. Should it?

I thought my conclusion, after writing all of this, would be that, even with the hard stuff, I would still want to do it for the good stuff. But I am still not so sure of that. I really enjoy "just" being a teacher. And I hope that I find a way to keep doing that.

How do I combine what I enjoy with the parts of that job that I deeply dislike?

Am I happy? Do I know it? *clap your hands*

Back to Work I Go

As of tomorrow I will be joining the work force again. After 3½ months of deepest contemplation and soul searching I have decided to put off actually choosing what I want to do in favour of going back to my old job.

Temporarily, of course.

For those out of the loop, I am going to be subbing for an ex-colleague who will be busy giving birth to and then taking care of twins.

I will only be teaching English (and something called Talent For Future), no mentor class and I get to work with my favourite boss, Loes, again.

Wisely, I decided that this weekend was the best choice for doing some non-stop partying and getting absolutely no rest. I have either been drinking, getting drunk, being drunk, sleeping or being hungover this weekend.

It's been fabulous!

Restless as I am, I still think I'll be more than prepared to get back to work tomorrow. Mostly because I have new shoes and a snazzy new haircut. What more could a gal possibly need, right?

My Hair Was Holding Me Back

I have wanted to donate hair to a charity making wigs for children with cancer for years. Today, I finally made the cut (partial pun inteded) and got my act together. I had ±35cm of my hair cut off and I am going to send it to Stichting Haarwensen (http://www.haarwensen.nl/)

And then I felt light-headed! There is literally a weight off! Anyone who has seen my hair "live" knows there was a serious amount of it and now I have been liberated, in a sense. I have an über curly bob and, after 11 hours of it, I can honestly say that I love it.



All curls are natural and ... persistant! I have to say, I am loving it! And the best part ... there's going to be a kid somewhere who gets to wear my hair and feel better for it! WIN!!

Not All of My Ghosts Are Dead

My grandfather died a month and two days before my 16th birthday. The significance of my sweet sixteen is, in fact, not so significant. The thing that has always haunted me about his death is that I never got the chance to say goodbye.

My grandparents lived in Holland and we lived in Germany. So we visited back and forth a lot. My sister, mother and I would spend the largest part of the summer vacation in Holland and my grandfather would bring my grandmother to see us as often as possible.

He was still running a business of his own so he would drive her down to us, stay a couple of days and then go back to Holland. Then he would come to pick her up at the end of her stay. Because of this I spent more time with my grandmother than I did my grandfather.

That March in 1993 he had brought my grandmother and was heading back to Holland, as usual. He was leaving on a school day and it was hectic with two extra people in the apartment. I remember scrambling to get my things together and being annoyed with all the people in my way. Like any typical, surly teenager I was always very touchy about having my faults pointed out to me. Teenagers feel like circus freaks all on their own, add people publicly pointing out those faults and you can expect anything but a "Thank you".

So, when I was told to be more polite and say a proper goodbye to my grandfather the last thing I wanted to do was that. Mostly because I knew it was true and I should.

Instead I managed to grind out the shortest goodbye I could muster without actually disobeying and rushed out the door to the busstop, feeling like the whole world was unfair and why couldn't people just leave me alone?

I never saw my grandfather again. He made it back to Holland, safe and sound, and went grocery shopping a few days later As he was unloading the groceries he stopped to sit at the kitchen table, probably not feeling well, and his heart stopped. He must have gone very quickly. We found out when their neighbour, who found him after investigating why the car trunk was open for so long, called us.

I didn't see him at the funeral, either. I was a big blubbering mess but couldn't bring myself to view his body. I don't regret this so much because I don't believe he was there anymore, anyway.

Aside from moving into the house where he died and a few unexplained occurances there, I can't say that he literally haunted me. Even the odd occurances were comforting when you thought it might be him playing a practical joke.

What haunted me was the guilt of not letting him know, not taking the time or getting over myself for a second, to let him know that I loved him. So simple and yet, at that moment so impossible.

The thing that released me from the guilt was realizing that the whole experience was a wasted one if I didn't learn from it. So, what did I learn from it? It's obvious, right? Tell the people you love that you love them. Don't take people for granted (that one is hard sometimes, especially with the people you really care about) and don't take every criticism personally. More often than not, they are not meant to hurt you but to help you.

I think people get haunted so that they can learn things. Sometimes we learn from someone who died but we can also learn from people who haunt us while they are still alive. I was going to write about them this time but, while trying to put pen to paper it struck me that I can't get to them without talking about Opa first. I guess you could say he was my first ghost.

In my opinion, though, as long as I apply the lessons I learned from - and because of - him, he'll never really die. Ghosts don't have to.

Adventures with Swedish furniture

I went to IKEA with my parents today. It was a spur of the moment thing (my mother asked me if I was interested at the gym this morning) and I went along because I wanted one of those "thingys" that hangs over the couch armrest with pouches to put your remotes and TV guide in. My parents have one, my sister has one, I felt I should join the clan.

Anyway, my mother printed out the directions from the internet. I should have known this would not work the same way it does for other people, but whatever. We hit the road and were doing fine until a road we were looking for turned out to be for bicycles only. Er ... okay. So we drive around a bit. Eventually, after a few U-turns and some guess work, we got there.

We went straight to the restaurant because, let's face it, that's the best part of a day at IKEA. We all got Swedish meatballs and fries and devoured the lot. It was great.

Then we headed into the actual store. I can't tell you a lot about it as there was so much to see that I got a bit of an information overload but it was a good bit of fun. We had a laugh at some of the interiors and tested pretty much every couch and seat (I tried out a few beds as well). I saw a lot of shelf possibilities that I would like to use in my living room. I didn't get any yet (wouldn't have fit in the car and I hadn't measured anything) but I have loads of ideas now.

While we were walking around the accessory area I bought myself a lovely oven dish (hey, I may use it someday) and I remembered that the clock in my bathroom needed replacing. I also bought a new pillow as mine is fairly well shot.

My parents bought new wine goblets, pillows, a pan set that was on sale, a TV cabinet for the TV in the attic - yes, the TV in the attic - and some cutting boards. All in all, I think we were there for two, maybe three hours and we walked forever. My feet even hurt at the end of it all!

Luckily the drive home was easier than the drive in and I was dropped off at home where the cats were waiting for me and I told them all about my lovely day. And that's when I realized that I hadn't bought the remote control thingy.

Typical.

:)

Bodyguard to the Famous

I used to buy nearly every tabloid going. Mostly so I could roll my eyes at the "says a source close to the troubled couple" and other such delightfully vague "facts". Oh, and I wanted to see celeb cellulite and make-up free faces so that my own imperfections looked trivial by comparison.

I realize fully that my purchase fed the monster that occasionally made me say "Why can't they just leave him/her/them alone?!" Enough already.

I clearly remember my turning point. It was the death of that lovely talent Heath Ledger. Every. Single. Publication. Going. wanted it to be suicide . Every last one was chomping at the bit to be the one to publish the juiciest, dirtiest detail surrounding his passing. They were all too eager to kick the corpse and feed like vultures on the remains. The front pages alone were enough to make you sick.

So I stopped buying every last one of them. Their hurried amendments after the official coroner's report and sickening tributes to his genius couldn't lure me back.

None of this stopped my passing interest in celebrity goings-on, however. And there are a few things I'd like to say about that.

Firstly, my interest in famous people comes from a shared experience angle (and a slight envy of whatever talent they may - or may not - have). Not that I am sharing the experience with them but that most of their experiences are so endearingly human. The DUI, the drunken party, the break-up, the infidelity, the kids, the hair cuts, the clothes - we've seen it all around us in "normal" friends and neighbours and, like the orange dimpled bottoms, it's comforting to know that, underneath the designer clothes, they are just as fallible as we are.

Of course, the majority of readers expects their celeb of choice/obsession to be better than your average human. God-like, if you will. Not so for me. I like when they have mayonnaise down their fronts and frown lines from squinting into the sun, slack-jawed. I like when they trip in public. I get annoyed at the fact that so many people demand public apologies for any indiscretion made by a celeb. Piss off. What did they do to you, personally? Besides slip off the pedestal you put them on, that is.

Having said all of that, I do realize that we've taken our invasion of celebrity privacy way too far. I have shaken my head many a time, muttering about the media being a large part of the problem. All too ready to build a star up so that they can tear them down with that much more efficiency. Most celebs wouldn't fall so deep into the hole if the media hadn't built them up so high in the first place.

Has that inspired me to bodyguard a celeb's right to privacy, though? Oh hell no. I don't get the people that do, to be honest. What drives the "leave Britney alone!!" types? I find them just as creepy as the ones digging through the trash and scrap-booking every magazine article. "It's none of our business", "They have a right to a private life". Of course they do and, to me this is obvious, the largest, possibly most important part of their life is private. I highly doubt they are sitting there waiting for their stalwart bulldog fans to champion their interests. There's a whole different type of mania that drives some people to rush to a celeb's aid. Hero complex rather than hero worship? Will Celeb X see me telling everyone to leave them alone and feel they can trust me? Wouldn't surprise me in the least if that was the train of thought. By the way, are Britney Spears and Chris Cocker BFFs now? Hmm? Didn't think so.

I find the most endearing part of celebrities to be their humanity. Therefore I simply cannot pretend they don't have it. I promise not to go rooting through their trash or driving by their homes, but I refuse to lose interest. After all, where would they be if all of their fans lost interest?

xxx

Confrontational Unemployment

If you don't count the summer vacation, I have been unemployed for three weeks now. Officially, I have been unemployed for 5½ weeks.

Without the stress and, honestly, distraction of work I have had some time to self-reflect. Not all discoveries have been surprising. For example: I already knew that I love sleeping in. It's not even really sleeping anymore after a certain point. I just like staying in bed. With a book, with a puzzle book or some music - bliss. Without the obligation of work, I could easily spend every day in my pyjamas. But I already knew that from years of school vacations. Give me a week off and, if someone else doesn't plan something for me to do, I will spend that week in bed.

Another thing I already knew about myself was that I can become easily obsessed with things. When something catches my interest, I don't go with it, I take it everywhere. Guys, cigarettes, bands, TV shows, puzzle books, alcohol - I've clocked my fair share of Obsess Much (OM) time with all of them. And some of them still get more than their fair amount of attention from me. This character trait has become evident again in my frequent visits to the gym.

At first I went to the gym a few times a week in order to get my money's worth out of my gym subscription. No point in having one if I never went, right? Now, without a job to distract me, it's become pretty much the only thing I actually do. So I go 5-6 times a week. Sometimes twice a day. The death blow in this case was getting "a chart". A list of weight machines and cardio exercises to do two or three times a week to improve my condition and strength. Fair enough, I hear you think, what's the problem? The problem is that the results can be measured. And some of them don't even have a six week waiting time! I can see results right there on the screen of the cardio machines! Like rowing. My first time on the rowing machine I was "racing" my mother on the machine next to me. I wanted to complete the 2000m faster than she did. And I did. I finished in 10 minutes and 35 seconds, she finished in 10 minutes and 55 seconds. I wanted to do even better than that. So today, I wasn't racing my mother anymore, I was racing myself and my "old" time. I wanted to get in under 10 minutes. I felt like I was going to either throw up or die at one point but I made it in 9:59.8 and the feeling of satisfaction was tremendous.

I already know that I will want to do it faster than that next time. And I might even nearly kill myself in the attempt. Gradual improvements, my ass. Leaps and bounds is what I am after.

Anyone who knows me knows that I can be obsessive. They also know I would rather be lazy than tired so this whole gym thing is kind of a surprise. What gives with the health stuff all of a sudden? I have no answer. Maybe I will contemplate that later on.

I am getting a bit worried, though. Nothing major as I am still blissfully stress-free, but there are a few doubts creeping in here and there. While I am sometimes a bit bored without a job, I am still not really in a hurry to find a new one. All this fabulous free time is too precious a commodity at the moment. But ... what if I grow to really like not having to work? What if I turn into one of those people who just can't rejoin the work force?

On the other hand, I can feel myself getting twitchy and will want to do something other than read books and go to the gym at some point. The problem there is that I still don't know what I want to do. So far my best plan is to find some part-time temp job somewhere to at least give me a purpose a few days a week. Hardly a fitting occupation for someone who prides herself on her intellect.

*le sigh*

I know what my interests are and I know what my degree is in and they, sadly, don't correlate at the moment. Brilliantly, I can't even think of another degree to go for to get closer to my interests.

And so, I wait. Surely the answers and solutions will fall into my lap sooner or later. Right?

-----

"People are always saying you should be yourself, like yourself is this definite thing, like a toaster. Like you know what it is even. But every so often I'll have, like, a moment, where just being myself in my life right where I am is, like, enough."

Angela Chase, My So-Called Life

Pub Quiz - Test Your General Knowledge

Last night I went to Flanagan's Irish Pub's Murphy's Pub Quiz. Wow, that's a lot of apostrophes!

We came in 6th out of 14 teams. Not fantastic but not too shabby, either.

Here are some of the questions we got. Stars indicate questions we got right. Two stars mean I was the one that provided the correct answer. :)

1. Who is the frontman of the band Black Sabbath? **
2. How long is the term of a French president? *
3. What two sports are governed by the WPBSA?
4. In which city is the Palais de Luxembourg?
5. Who introduced the H and A line in the 1950s?
6. What does a vinometer measure in wine?
7. Which film role won two Oscars? (I still think my answer was good)
8. Who performed the theme song for the movie Top Gun? **
9. Which country did the word Christmas come from?
10. Which instrument, found left of the conductor, traditionally leads the orchestra?
11. What is Friday in French? **
12. Which TV show had the band Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem? **
13. Which film sees John Cleese as a manic school teacher obsessed with time? *
14. When China became a republic in 1912, which dynasty was overthrown: the Manchu, the Ming or the Tang? **
15. How many countries does the Amazon river flow through? *
16. Which European capital is on the Manzanares river?
17. Which animated TV series has a robot named Bender? **
18. Which Parisian orientation point is a war monument with 282 steps?
19. England had beheading, France had the guillotine, what did Spain have?
20. In Priscilla, Queen of the Desert - what is Priscilla? (I got this right, I even wrote it down and then it got changed)
21. What comes after 1 BC? *
22. In the biographical movie Lady Sings the Blues, which jazz singer's life was portrayed by Diana Ross?
23. For what crime was Al Capone eventually jailed? *
24. In WWII, who was the feared Nazi leader of the SS?
25. A dabloon is originally from what country?
26. What Greek word means "we can act anything?" *
27. Which city are the Academy Awards held in? **
28. What independant state was formed after the war between India and Pakistan?
29. Which sport's name is derived from the French word meaning crooked stick and is played 10 aside by men and 12 aside by women? **
30. In medieval France a woman had to run down the street naked chasing a chicken as punishment for what crime? *

The picture round was a collection of 10 celebrities who's pictures were shown in negative. We could have had all of them right except we didn't write down Renée Zellweger, even though we did think it might be her.

The music round consisted of Eurovision Song Festival songs. "All we had to do" was write down what country it was from. Embarrassingly, we even managed to get 4 right out of ten. The winning team had 7 right. Ew.

It was a fun night, though. I forgot how much fun a pub quiz could be.

PS: Answers to quiz questions in the comments. I may even get around to letting you know what the official answers were! ;)

Heide Week Parade

My quirky little town has a yearly extravaganza that revolves around heather. Not a person named Heather, but the plant heather. And my quirky little town devotes an entire week to celebrating its existence. Mostly it's just an excuse to get drunk.

The whole shebang starts with a parade. Actually, it starts with a Heather Queen and a Heather Princess but since neither one of them is me, we'll skip all that.

We all met up at Jenn and Niels' place for dinner. This was the best place since their house is on the parade route.

Some pictures taken at Jenn's before we left.

Then we heard all the drums and stuff and headed out to see the parade. It was a pretty weak parade but it was amazing enough for a nearly four-year-old and a one-year-old. Seeing the whole thing through their eyes was pretty cool. Bella doesn't mind loud noises as much as Caitlin so she held on a lot longer and even managed a wave. Caitlin had her own little horn to toot but didn't get around to it much since she was covering her ears most of the time.

The theme this year was the Olympics (oh, the originality) and some of the floats were actually very cool. Caitlin loved the horses and we were all impressed by the firetrucks.

All is well in the world again.

In the end it was pretty fun. Mostly because the girls enjoyed it and were pretty much gobsmacked for the whole thing.

Waking Dreams

Sometimes I get hit by a wave of inspiration. Had that when I was staying at Suze's. Thankfully I had my BlackBerry with me to take it all down ...

----

I dreamt that I walked through the woods. In a small clearing surrounded by dancing birch trees, I came upon a cottage fabricated by faeries. Before I even entered I knew it was a happy place where hearts were at ease and sang with the joy of life.

I entered and found a great wooden table set to feed the cockles of my heart. There was wine and fruit, food and flowers, good cheer and fortune. And seated there were the friends of all my lives. All the happy souls of those I held dear. Kindred spirits in the stormy sea of life experience, anchors in restless waters.

We raised crimson glasses to toast our dreams and wishes in the knowledge that all the goodness of life would find us. We supped and laughed, sang and were quiet. The little bobbins and vessels of our destiny cheerily chattered and made us smile indulgently, with a thinly veiled pride.

As we let our bellies and minds, replete and sated, settle in the glow of the evening, I looked to the sky and saw a pair of kestrels circle in the dusk. They played and flitted on the light breeze, their carefree nature a balm to my bruised soul.

And I knew that in this short measure, my life was perfect and good and wholesome and full.

I smiled, filled my cup and nestled into the fold of my blessed friendships.

The dream never woke, but stayed in a whisp of mist to accompany me in waking hours.

----

If you didn't figure it out - I'm in a pretty good place right now. :)

Sziget Logs - Part IV

So, I am finally getting around to the last installment of the Sziget Logs. Here it is then:

August 18th, 19th and 20th

I woke up ridiculously early on Monday because ... it was quiet. No music at all. This was it then, the day we break camp and walk off of the island. I started packing up my things and was finished getting all of my wordly possessions into my bag in half an hour. That's camping for you. All that remained was breaking tent. *sigh* It took awhile for the rest to get up because it wasn't such a sweltering morning and there was no heat chasing you out of the tent.

Watching the exodus of people past our tent was kind of odd. Loads of people who'd gotten up even earlier and were already heading out.

When we finally all got going and took the tents apart we made excellent time. There were still loads of tents around us so we figured the warning in the information booklet that you had to be off the island by 8am probably wasn't such a strict one.

Once we'd had our breakfast and a Milli Milk or two we loaded all of our stuff on our backs and headed to the exit. The walk to the HEV train line isn't really that long and because everyone was kept moving there were no traffic jams and we could step right onto a train to take us to Budapest city center.

We found the street our hostel was on no problem but finding the hostel was another story altogether. First we walked the wrong way down the street, then we walked right past the building because I thought it was number 66 (it was number 30 - go figure I would miss that!), then we walked back and found number 30 and had to walk up three flights of murder stairs to get to the hostel entrance. Luckily, Peter, The Hostel Guy was very friendly, let us dump our stuff, freshen up and said our room would be ready at 2pm (it was just after 11, I think, when we arrived).

We had decided the day before that we wanted to use our Sziget discount to go to see the Bodies exhibition on Kíraly út so we headed out (a tad dusty but whatever) to see the human body up close and skinless. On the way we stopped at a café and had a drink or two and enjoyed the shade.

The Bodies exhibition was really amazing. I highly recommend it to anyone living in a city they come to. I mean, you've seen the pictures and drawings of the human body in text books and you've seen the lungs or whatever in the smoking warnings but seeing them in one human form with bits and pieces exposed, or a whole human being but then just the skin - that is just too bizarre. Jenn had decided that she didn't want to see any baby corpses (all of the displays were people who had donated their body to science) and was afraid, since the tour led you from one room to the next in a snake-like fashion, that she wouldn't be able to avoid it. Then we got to a junction where they warned you on a big sign that the next room might be a bit too much for some and that it was the babies. There was an alternate route to skip the baby exhibit and, in the end, Jenn decided that she did want to see. They had the progression of uteran growth on display. Honestly, it was fascinating. At 7 weeks - that's a person. I have never been someone who would be able to get an abortion but this sold me completely. [For the record, I am still pro-choice, but my choice is clear now].

At 3 o'clock we arrived back at the hostel and found out that our five person room was actually an apartment two blocks down and two blocks up. Ooookay. So we got to lug all of our stuff down three flights of stairs and walk a bit to the next place. It was a *very* nice apartment and we were all delighted to get into a real, working shower with hot water and change into some dust free clothes. I got to go first since I had booked the hostel and played leader on the subway trips. :)

Our apartment

After showers and changes and a short jaunt to the supermarket by the boys we went out to dinner. We (read: I) decided that we should go to the For Sale Restaurant since Jenn and Niels ate there last time we were in Budapest and raved about it. I hadn't gone and when we tried to go the next night it was full. So I wanted to try again. The difference being that we were now a 45 minute walk away from it instead of a 10 minute walk. Ah well. I plotted a route past some fun touristy things and, since it was a lovely evening, we had a great walk and built up an appetite for dinner.

Steffie and Werner at St. Stephen's Basillica
St. Stephen's Basillica - day
Jenn, Steffie, Werner and Niels in front of Buda Royal Palace
I have no idea what this statue is for but it's on top of a huge hill and I just had to get a picture. Isn't it great?
Arty shot on the way to the restaurant.

Dinner was fabulous! I had deep fried Camembert cheese with rice and salad, Jenn, Werner and Steffie had the garlic chicken and Niels had the steak "Stroganoff" (Steak in a sauce with mushrooms and pickle - sounds odd? Yes, it does but it was *really* yummy). We got a little bit confused by the bill (damn expensive wine if you sell it by the deciliter) but in the end we made it out with full tummies and smiles.

I had charted a new route home that would take us past the Opera house (among other things) and we set off into the night.

National History Museum
St. Stephen's Basillica by night.
Look! We found George Clooney!
Jennifer gets close to a bronze man

The next day we had a lovely breakfast at the apartment and got all of our things together so that we could hand in our key at the main building. We could have left all of our things at the main building all day but that involved getting it all up and down those stairs again which none of us wanted to do. So we opted to go to the City Park instead. There was a zoo, fun fair, thermal baths and all sorts of things to do there and Jenn and I weren't averse to sitting with all the stuff while the rest were off to the pool.

Jenn and I make a fort and hunker down.

We spent a few lovely hours in the shade reading and doing puzzles and the rest went to the thermal baths. At exactly 3pm we broke up the fort and headed to Keleti station to catch the train to Vienna.

In Vienna we changed trains and that one was an hour delayed by the time we left the station. They had to change the locomotive and then there was a poor boy with food poisoning that had to be picked up by an ambulance. We all felt for him and his friend (who had to get back on the train and leave him behind). We picked up another hour's delay on the way and arrived at Arnhem train station at 12:30pm on Wednesday 20th August instead of 10:30am that same day, as originally planned.

It was good to be home, though.

And there, kiddies, ends my account of our adventures in Budapest. I forgot to tell the tale of the crazy drunk lady that harrassed us at the apartment and Werner and Steffie's tent being robbed but, really, those weren't the highlights of the trip.

Who's coming along next year? ;)
xxx