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.
We walked around Utrecht, and checked out parks and neighborhoods full of row houses and got caught in several sets of rain, and just sort of absorbed atmosphere for two days. Then we drove up through Flevoland to Harlingen and took a ferry to Vlieland. That was our holiday location for four days. We rented bicycles and the Sniglet learned to ride a bike for the third time (reason 1: for some reason we keep teaching him in the fall, and then it gets too cold and icky to ride, and in blatant contravention of the old saying, he forgets how. reason 2: we moved from one steep hill to another steep hill, so any bike journey here necessarily begins with “YEEEAAAAAAGH!” which, it turns out, is not a nurturing learning environment) and there was much rejoicing. Also much TV, knitting, and running around the beach. It was a very relaxing holiday.
Then we drove across the afsluitdijk (don’t try to pronounce that either) and down through North Holland to Utrecht. And through all the walking and driving, I was looking around thinking “home. This will be home.” Since we got back, I’ve been looking at our house, neighborhood and neighbors as things we have to leave. And I’m feeling very weird about it all, like I’m only half here. Maybe less than half, since of course I left a big ol’ homesick chunk of me back in the Pacific Northwest.
I never really did put down roots here in OurTown. I didn’t join clubs or really make an effort to make friends, because with DrBob applying for jobs all over the U.S. and parts of Europe, and his job at LMU up for review every three years, we really didn’t know how long we’d be here, which was kind of stressful for me. Well, now we know we’re going, but we still don’t know when, and lo, it turns out that that’s even more stressful. So I’m weird and restless lately, not knowing what to do next.
Song du jour of the day: These Dreams, by Heart. Because no matter how stressful things get, at least the days of giant square shoulder pads and giant square hairdos are long, long gone.