Right, I meant to address this a long time ago. Ann says:
there’s medicine you can take for that ’spoons in the drawer’ thing.
Which reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to mention about Expat Life.
Little secret for ya – the famous Universal! Free! Healthcare! in Germany is, erm, not without its problems (though I still think it’s miles ahead of what the US has). Universal healthcare is not free, it’s actually quite expensive, and one of the ways Germany keeps costs down is through a pain-management philosophy that boils down to: Suck It Up, Ya Pansy. A friend who got a massive uterine infection after the birth of her first child did not get painkillers, though the nurses did pat her shoulder and say “aw, don’t cry, Mrs. X.” Contrast this with what the nurse told me after the Sniglet’s birth in Wisconsin: “here’s drugs for when your anesthetic wears off, here’s some more drugs, trust me you do not want to feel that pain.” Continue reading
We took the night train up to Utrecht, got breakfast, and went to DrBob’s apartment. It’s really nice, and yet every time he tells any Dutch person where he’s staying (“De Uithof,” don’t try to pronounce it), they say, “ew, I’m so sorry.” Dude, if this is “ew,” then the entire country belongs on MTV Cribs. It’s bright! And clean! And the doors are really, really tall. There is no smell of mildew, the view is lovely, and also, everything is clean! Did I mention the clean? I love the clean.
Perhaps I am getting sidetracked. Continue reading
We got back last night from our Dutch holiday (lovely, but lovelier to be home – I’ve never had a house I enjoyed being in so much). This morning we retrieved my computer and I spent entirely too much time catching up on one blog (it’ll be one blog per day until I’m all caught up, because y’all! You wrote a lot while I was gone!) and thinking I really should get off my butt and unpack and get onto the day’s housework (Tuesday: laundry = towels, non-white sheets and cloth napkins; zone = kitchen and dining room) when DrBob landed me with a 24-page article to proofread. Bam, there went the rest of my day. Continue reading
This is such a nifty little toy. We leave tonight, so I don’t have time to do more than a slapdash job, but here you go: seven songs du jour of the day for my absence (even though I’ll probably be gone longer than that).
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h/t Gone Dutch.
So we’re taking the night train to Utrecht. Night trains sound a lot more romantic and fun than they actually are – our last trip on one, there was something rattling in the wall. Not consistently, no, it would go silent for awhile, and then just as you were drifting off to sleep, takka takka takka there it was again. The time before that, we had the cabin next to the staff room. They were… chatty. Continue reading
The first thing I remember wanting to be when I grew up was… a Pip. I saw Gladys Knight and the Pips on TV singing Midnight Train to Georgia, and they were so cool, with the ooo! and the moves. I remember thinking that that would be just the best job ever. I think I was about five.
Howbout you? What were your early ambitions?
So Melanie asks what is needed to teach English over here in Yurp, which is a very good question, and the answer, as usual, is: it depends. I imagine Eastern Europe’s more like Asia, they need so many teachers they won’t look too hard for qualifications, but in the more Anglo-infested places like Munich and Amsterdam and Barcelona, competition’s a tad stiffer. People with TESL certs also tend to look askance at the “I speak it, therefore I can teach it” crowd, which is understandable, I suppose. Getting certified is a fair bit of work, and you do actually learn stuff in the process. Continue reading