January 3, 2010

Erin at the Paris Christmas Market

Happy New Year! Hope everyone had a great time over the holidays. Thanks to all of you that sent cards and emails; it was so nice to see pics and catch up on all the news. Rob was able to spend 2 full weeks here which was fantastic.

Amsterdam

Megan and Erin ice skating in Amsterdam

Rob and the girls outside our Hotel

We took the train to Amsterdam to spend a few days before Christmas; Rob met us there. We showed Megan the hospital where she was born, and the flat where we lived. The weather was snowy and cold and we stayed in a great little hotel. We visited the Van Gogh museum, which Claire and Rob loved, and Megan, Erin and I tolerated. Erin: "I don't like paintings by famous people; I like paintings by ordinary people."

The girls and I had brunch in a cute little cafe just off the Leidsestraat. Claire and Erin were excited to see pancakes on the menu and ordered those with a side of bacon.

After a few minutes, the waitress came back and asked: "Would you like your bacon mixed into the pancake batter?"

"No," the girls replied, "on the side, please."

"Ah," the waitress said, smiling, "the chef has told me that it is too much work to make the bacon separately. So, you will not be able to have bacon today!" Still smiling, she left to get us our drinks. The girls looked at me, mouths open. "Welcome to the Netherlands," I said.

We returned to Paris on Dcember 23rd. Even if we hadn't understood the signs, we would've known we were leaving from a Dutch train station (lots of tall, smiling people riding their bikes in the slush and whistling a merry tune) and arriving at a French station (lots of short, scowling people smoking and complaining that there were no cabs).

We spent Christmas eve and day in Paris. The Schroeders, visiting from Florence, joined us for what I claimed was dinner and we had a great time catching up on our respective expat adventures.

The day after Paris, we left for London. All of the Eurostar "difficulties" (recall that during the worst IRA years in the 70's, when people were blown up or maimed with appalling regularity, the Brits and Irish referred, understatedly, to "the troubles") were over and we zoomed through the Chunnel before I'd even had a chance for a nap. Everyone was thrilled to be in an English-speaking country again. We took a bus tour, went to Mme. Tussaud's (underwhelmed), the aquarium, Buckingham Palace, saw a show (Billy Elliott), indulged my fabric fetish at Liberty, and generally had a fantastic time. My family even got me to a museum (V&A), which was a blast. It turns out, I'm not allergic to museums! I'm allergic to paintings and sculptures by dead guys! I actually like looking at furniture, clothes, jewelry, buildings, and assorted other stuff by dead guys. I hope you appreciate how I have grown as a person this last 6 months.

Favorite sighting: DNA/Paternity kits prominently displayed at the corner pharmacy. What's the thinking here? You go in to buy some ibuprofen and while you're waiting to pay, you pick up a Cadbury bar, spy the DNA kit, and say to your friend (in a British accent, of course):

"D'you know, I've always wondered about Nigel's Dad. Was it that bloody ponce I met in the pub while Giles was off at RAF training? Or that nutter who followed me round the clubs when I was out with me mates the following week? Or p'raps it was Giles after all. Nigel does have his wonky laugh. Oh, bloody hell. I get absolutely knackered just thinking about it all."

Back on the Eurostar to Paris from London, Rob and I collapsed into giggles when the train conductor got on the loudspeaker. It had to be Inspector Clouseau!!

"Welcome on zee Eurostar to Parees. Plees be careful wiv yoor luggaige. We aire vairy appy to be leaving zees stupide ceety and zees Breeteesh peeples and going back to zee beautiful ceety of Parees, where we aire not always so nice to stupide forainairs." OK, I made that last part up.