Images from Bangkok

I am posting a few pictures from my day of sightseeing in Bangkok. I was proud of myself for covering a lot of ground...on foot. I saw the famous Khaosan Road known as a backpacker's mecca. I stayed in a hotel ten minute's walk away. Can you spot the Starbuck's in the picture? They really are everywhere nowadays.

I really enjoyed all of the street vendors here...especially the food vendors. They are not even pushy like I expected. With locals and tourists alike buying their food, they don't have to be. It seems as if people in Bangkok just snack their way through the day. I can see why. I tried some spring rolls that came with some sweet chili sauce and crushed peanuts. SO good!

I also made it to see the reclining Buddha. I do not understand why something so big and so sacred is crammed in a building just big enough fit it. Is it supposed to mean that Buddha inhabits all of spaces in your heart? The builders and the funders of religious buildings are usually not so symbolic to restrict the viewing of the ridiculously expensive thing they want on display. Anyways...

And I also made it to the National Palace and the temple of the Emerald Buddha (which is actually made of jade, but the name stuck). Pictures of the Emerald Buddha was not allowed so here is a picture of the surrounding palace.

I left Bangkok yesterday in the early morning and took a flight with Air Asia to Phuket. I am now staying in a resort town 100 km north of there called Khao Lak. It's nicely removed from Phuket's party scene and is, thus, filled with families. It is also a jumping off point for diving trip to the Similan and Surin Islands as well as trips to Khao Sok National Park. I spent the rest of yesterday meandering down Khao Lak's one main road until I found a bar that offered free wifi. I then succumbed to the weird feeling in my stomach and called it an early night. I think it was the two iced lattes I drank trying to shake myself awake after my 5 am wake up call. I was afraid it was the beginnings of a serious stomach bug brought on from the ice that was accidentally accompanied with one of the lattes. I downed an Immodium and paracetamol just in case and that seemed to do the trick. Phew!

Tomorrow I join a small group on a day trip to Khao Sok National Park. The trip includes an elephant ride and canoe trip and promises we'll see monkeys and tigers. The following evening, I pack up for my liveaboard SCUBA diving trip. It feels like the trip is really starting to pick up momentum in a good way.

Today I had planned to go to Phuket to buy a new book and the IT stuff I failed to find in Bangkok at the town's huge shopping mall. After I was informed that the taxi would cost 40 EUR each way, I decided that today was a good day for relaxing by the hotel pool and hitting the local souvenir stalls to look for a new sarong (or two as it turns out). I started with a visit to the Bang Niang Market. Tripadvisor had promised it as a great local market. At 1pm, I think I was too early because only half of the stalls were set-up and it reminded me more of a small scale local Dutch market (a mini-Haagsche Maarkt, for instance) than anything authentically Thai. I did find two sarongs, though, but it was at a stall just around the corner from my resort. I bargained the shopkeeper down by about six euros, but I know the eight euros I paid was probably still too much. Oh well...it was worth the price to me and well under the price of a day of shopping in Phuket.

I tried twice to upload a picture of my resort, but it just wouldn't take. The resort I am stayin at is the Khao Lak Countryside Resort. It is great. My room is huge! It's probably the size of one floor of our house in The Hague. And after peeking in on the resort next door and hearing of it's starting rate at double the price I am paying, I fell in love with my hotel. It's not on the beach like the hotel next door, but it's 100 meters from a public beach and has a great pool so who cares? I am actually sitting in one of the neighboring hotel's lobbies typing this blog. The internet connection is better and literally no one is here. They've all left the hotel for the evening anyway just like the people staying at my hotel and are all at the same bars and restaurants.

Budget note: I haven't actually been writing down what I have been spending. I have all the intentions in the world to do it, but it just isn't happening yet. It's probably because I am over-budget. I am managing to average about three euros per day on food. It would be half that if I didn't have two Chang beers (the local brand of beer) almost every night....

Tuk Tuk mafia and the girly boys

I didn’t sleep well my first night in Bangkok. I prefer to call it jetlag, but it was really critter paranoia. I have read just enough about hotel/hostel bed bugs to mix up the facts and totally freak myself out. And then there are the mosquitoes. I went for my vacation vaccinations (funny how it sounds like it’s repelling the travel itself) and the doctor showed me maps indicating the amount of risk of malaria in the places I would be travelling to. Call me crazy, but it wasn’t very convincing to see a clear circle around Bangkok indicating a ‘malaria clear zone’ surrounded by high risk malaria areas. Umm, mosquitoes fly, doctor. Let’s just say I am deeted up. Night one, so far so good.

So with my deet lotion and sun block cream, I entered the 100 degree weather already completely slimy. It took me back to my few sessions of Bikram yoga. No, it wasn’t that bad, but I was able to basically ignore the sweat dripping down my calves and back like I would not have been able to do in the past. On my way out of the hotel, I stopped at the front desk to reserve a room for an upcoming one night stay I would have in Bangkok as I transition from southern to northern Thailand. I am gradually trying to be a little more easygoing with my planning, but so far it is smacking me in the face. The hotel I am so thoroughly enjoying is completely booked for the night I am stopping through. Enter Dave.

A man, very clearly American, overhears my conversation with the nice, but unapologetic man at the front desk and starts reeling off directions to another hotel. My first thought was, “Here we go Rick Steves (not a fan of that man, but will begrudgingly admit that I like his travel clothesline, but I digress.).” My second thought was, “Thank you God. I can stop freaking out now.” After the second ‘turn right’, I was lost and he totally picked up on it so I was completely delighted when he offered to show me the way since he and his wife were headed that way anyway. Thank you, Sharon and Dave. Hope the rest of your trip is wonderful.

They quickly started peppering me with travel tips and orientation facts. Then Dave grabs me by the arm and drags me out into traffic. Well, not quite. We were nearing a part of the sidewalk that was under construction so we were going to have to walk in the street. He told me, “Don’t be afraid. Just stand your ground and take it slow.” His sudden graveness put me on alert, but I couldn’t help, but think this was no worse than a Dutch city during rush hour. Crossing the street in front of our neighborhood grocery store is much scarier. Maybe I’ve just been lucky so far. We found the hotel they recommended and our paths departed just as quickly as they’d crossed. They said their daughter had travelled alone like I am and had had help along the way from nice strangers so they were paying the favor forward.

Part of Dave’s advice had been to avoid tuk tuk’s if possible and just pay the little bit extra for an air conditioned taxi. He followed it up by mentioning that, if I did want to try it, I should cover my nose and mouth to filter out the car exhaust and warned me of a scam I’d read about, but could hardly believe. A common scam here is for a man to approach you asking you what you would like to see. When you name a temple or shrine or something, he will try to convince you that it is closed today due to a public holiday. Acting like he is trying to help you, he will offer you to organize a tuk tuk ride for you (or he will be a driver himself). In route to taking you to this new tourist attraction he has talked you into (or it may be your desired spot if he can’t possibly state that it’s closed), he will stop at his friend’s shopping center or store and basically hold you hostage and refuse to drive you anywhere until you buy something. It’s so popular that signs are posted in hotels and the airport to this regard. It seems so obvious and warned about to me, that it seemed more like an urban myth to me.

Sure enough, though, as I was waving down a taxi (for the air conditioning) to take me to a big shopping center to look for some IT stuff (an all in one re-charger that apparently has not been invented yet, but I didn’t know that at the time), a man approached me and asked me where I wanted to go. I told him a shrine next to the mall I wanted to go to…probably because I could pronounce it better than the name of the shopping center. He asked me if I wanted to pray and I said no and he told me that it wasn’t possible to enter the shrine unless I was there to pray. So, to me, the shrine was as good as closed. Then starts the, “I can take you to better places” schpeel. I couldn’t believe it. I was so curious to hear what I thought of as an urban myth play out that I let him talk a little longer. I just kept repeating that I wanted a taxi and, luckily, one pulled up right away.

That’s when I met Chalor. I only know his name because he gave me his business card so I can call him if I need anymore rides during my stay. Does anyone else besides me take this as a clear sign that I have just been ripped off? Why else would he want my repeat business unless I was paying stupid money? I’m new to the city so I chalk up the extra money to a learning experience. I tried to make back part of the overpricing on the ride back to my hotel from the shopping center by shaving 50 baht off the rate I wanted for the cab fare. I ended up only saving 30 baht in the end (about $0.75 for those keeping track) because I didn’t have the exact fare and he magically had no change (I think the biggest scam going down in Bangkok that, by the way, Dave did warn me about, but, again, I didn’t really believe at first.).

During our 45 minute car ride across town, after he tries to convince me that, indeed, I will like Thailand so much that I will stay here and not go home, he points towards a tuk tuk approaching beside us with three twenty something Anglo-Saxon men in it and insights, “Mafia!” “They are the tuk tuk mafia!” I don’t quite understand him at first. Is he saying “My finger”? Can’t be. Mafia like Tony Soprano? I can’t see that little three wheeled bicycle with a motor striking fear into the hearts of law enforcement and law abiding 7-11 and massage parlor owners. Then he explains how they organize themselves with shopkeepers to force a sale on tourists and there reputation for taking clients on trips four times as long as necessary to justify a huge fare. In the next breath, though, he is trying to convince me that I am not staying in a safe neighborhood and that the neighborhood where his friend happens to manage a very nice, cheap hotel is much safer and better for shopping. Hmmm, who’s Tony now? I took his card and got out, thankful for the air conditioning and in guiding me to one of dozens of seven story shopping centers in the area, the one comprised entirely of IT stuff, otherwise known as Gadgetland.

A few doors down from Gadgetland, Chalor had recommended I look in one of the shopping malls dedicated entirely to clothing. “Cheap, cheap” was the exact recommendation if I remember it right. He should have mentioned the people watching…and the floor devoted entirely to purses and shoes. What would my sisters and I have done on a trip to Bangkok? Shopped ‘til we dropped in this and several other shopping centers like it. My second realization was that, instead of worrying about buying clothes and travel stuff while in The Netherlands and the U.S., I should have devoted that energy to daily Bikram yoga, lost five kilos and treated myself to a Thai shopping spree at a fraction of the price I paid. That wouldn’t have changed my feeling like a giant, though. If I had a nickel for every time I doubled over trying to get out of the way of a shopkeeper or shopper jutting out from a store in front of me… And they are all so gorgeous. I know, one should avoid stereotyping, but does that apply to compliments?

Just as I was admiring how pretty, skinny, and well put together the young woman in front of me on the escalator was, she flipped open her phone and revealed her bedroom voice. She was a he. I nearly fell off the escalator I was so stunned. I’d heard of the lady boy shows here, but I didn’t expect to see so many people in drag during the day and, frankly, to look so damn good. And sure enough, they were everywhere. Sexual ambiguity must be all the rage in Thailand or at least on Wednesdays in the Platinum Fashion Mall. It seemed the more made-up the woman, the more likely she was cross dressing. There were also a lot of people with longish, uber-stylish bobs, tight designer t-shirts and skinny jeans that could have passed for either sex. And, to a lesser extent, there were also women dressing more masculine. It was fascinating!

I remember a rule my girl friends and I had in college about boys. We agreed that a final decision could not be made on a guy's looks until we saw him without his baseball cap on. The rule here instead should be that a girl is not really a girl until after she speaks. Knowing Bangkok has for decades been a popular spot for the enlisted’s R&R, I wonder if that was part of the advice given to GIs.

Tomorrow, I hit the tourist hot spots - the reclining and emerald buddhas and backpacker land, Khao San Road. I promise, more pictures tomorrow.

Day 1

Yesterday was my last day at work. I really make a point not to mention work, but I will say that it was a really nice last day. I went out to lunch with my work colleagues and they surprised me with a great going away present "The Travel Book" by Lonely Planet. It is an 800+ page epic summarizing every country on the planet. Look out world! Here I come!

I had read stories from other bloggers that have taken career breaks to travel about how it went breaking the news to managers and colleagues and I was expecting a fair amount of negativity and "I'm disappointed in you" comments. To my surprise, everyone was really encouraging and many said they were jealous. Maybe that's the difference of working in Europe. Here it doesn't seem like a sign of insanity to consciously jump off the corporate ladder. Or maybe it is a sign of the environment inside of a company going through a very ugly and drawn out acquisition. Nothing seems to surprise my shell-shocked colleagues and I anymore. Regardless, I am grateful for their encouragement. Thanks guys! And do keep in-touch.

So what do I do to mark the end of my job? I put all of my suits in storage. My husband and I also went out with friends and stayed out late on a weekday, but odd as it seems putting the suits away was far more symbolically significant to me. In the end, I tended to treat them like a uniform and often wondered if I could qualify for "What Not to Wear" for my completely uninspired work attire. It was just another sign that my body was filling my seat at work, but my mind and motivation was elsewhere. That's enough about work...

I am getting towards the end of my packing list. Today I bought my fake wedding band and paper soap. Yep, you heard me. Several travel sites recommended that women, even singles, sport a wedding band as a "no vacancy" sign to aggressive men, but my friend took it one step further when she couldn't recommend enough that I not take anything of financial or highly sentimental value with me...including my wedding band. The same friend suggested soap paper. I am going to give it a trial run at home first because it just sounds too good to be true that something that takes up so little luggage space can clean my clothing. I hope so, though. That would free up some much needed space and weight.

I also finalised my travel insurance and spent the better part of the day organizing my stacks of important documents from the past four years into binders. I know it sounds weird, but it just feels better to see it all neatly lined up on a shelf and in some semblance of an order before I hit the road. And if my husband should need to get to some of the information while I am traveling, hopefully this will make it easier.

I have really been going through a rollercoaster of emotions these past few weeks. The idea of traveling alone for the first month or so of my trip at times seems daunting and downright stupid. I'm not really scared about my personal safety although I have given it quite a lot of thought and research (rest assured, Mom & Dad), it's the loneliness I fear I will feel when I am experiencing all of these fantastic new places and things either alone or with complete strangers. I have so much to look forward to and be grateful for, though, that I feel silly for even mentioning it. Everything has come together so smoothly so far (knock on wood).

A friend last night reminded me to just take it all in and enjoy myself because the memories will be all mine and will always be something I can look back on. I took it to mean that I will always be able to look back on this trip as a kind of gift to myself and something I can be proud of. He also told me to buy local t-shirts and ship them home because I will like having them around to wear when I am back at home. Great idea! I think I will incorporate that into my blog.

Tomorrow I pack my new backpack to use on my week long trip to the U.S. to visit my family.

Malaysian Borneo

I skipped ahead in my travel planning to mid-May since that will be the first time my husband will be joining me on my travels. We will meet up in Malaysian Borneo to visit what is toted as two of the world's best diving spots. We've been using "50 Places to Dive Before You Die" as a guide. The first location is the island of Layang Layang and the second is Sipadan. Both are quite remote and, surprisingly, there are still a relatively limited resorts that offer diving to both areas. There is in fact one resort on Layang Layang and no resorts are allowed on the island of Sipadan itself so we are staying on the nearby island of Mabul. Make sure to have a look at the Mabul link. It is a link to where we are staying, Sipadan Water Village. The rooms are bungalows on stilts that hover over the water. I am SO looking forward to sitting out on our bungalow's front porch and listening to the ocean and watching the fish swimming below.

We are going to spend about five nights in each place and, in between, try to fit in as many of the nearby national parks as possible. My husband wants to go check-out the orangutans and other primates (Is that the right term?) at the rehabilitation center in Sepilok. There are so many choices - a treetop walk, a park of 600+ species of orchids, hot springs, an island dedicated to turtle hatching, jungle trekking - and that's just what I have seen in a few minutes of googling. I still need to get my head around Borneo. I know next to nothing about it...so you will all be learning right along with me! Should make for some good stories.

What's next on the planning? A quick trip to the U.S. to visit my family. I leave this Sunday.

Thailand itinerary...so far

I've been spending what feels like every spare minute on travel planning. It's great! And frustrating and overwhelming, but great.

I am putting a lot of effort into planning the first country of my trip, Thailand. I figure it will help me deal with my nerves about walking out onto this metaphorical cliff I've chosen for myself. I am making a point to plan activities that I either already enjoy - diving - or always wanted to explore more about - yoga and cooking, for instance. I am also booking all of my hotels ahead of time and paying the few extra euros do avoid the back packers' dormitories and bungalows. I was considering one "rustic" bungalow on the beach, for instance, in Railay Beach only to look on Travelpod and see one back packer's pictures of monkeys and termites that shared their bungalow. Unfortunately, they couldn't get pictures of the rats that were living in the walls. Ugh! It makes me itch and cringe just thinking about it. After reading a few reviews of travellers complaining that rats had gotten into their ground floor plumbing in a mid-range hotel, I decided to skip that beach all together.

Here's what I've planned for myself so far.

I am going to spend 3 nights in Bangkok at the Lamphu Tree Hotel and go sightseeing. I am also considering taking a cooking class and looking forward to my first ride in a tuk tuk.

From there, I fly to Khoa Lak, north of Phuket, to hang out on the beach and go to the nearby national park. I am staying at Khao Lak Countryside Resort for 3 nights before getting a SCUBA diving liveaboard for 4 days/4 nights. I chose Big Blue Diving because their boat seems nice (i.e. a lot of warm showers and nice common areas), they had great reviews for their service, dive leaders, and food, and because they offer 3 dives per day instead of the 4 or 5 on other liveaboards and, instead, offer options to take a speedboat to nearby islands to sunbathe or snorkel with turtles.

From there, I head to the other side of Phuket and to a whole other type of getaway. I am going to a 3 night yoga retreat on an island! I am going to the island of Koh Yao for a yoga retreat with Island Yoga . Check out their 3 night/4 day itinerary to see what I am going to be doing.

After zenning out, I am going to one of the most famous islands in Thailand, Kho Phi Phi. Yep, it's pronounced like pee pee. Go ahead giggle, I know you want to. I haven't completely figured this part out yet accommodation-wise, but I hope to do some more diving or at least snorkeling, sun bathing, and sitting at a nice outdoor bar and people watching.

As an aside, I have really tried to make a point to stay at hotels with internet and/or wifi access. That way I can Skype, check e-mail, blog, and continue to plan the next legs of my trip. So be prepared for some envy inspiring pictures of beaches, fish, and, hopefully, a whale shark.

After that, I fly back to Bangkok for a night on my way up north to Chiang Mai to start 3 weeks of volunteering as a primary school English teacher. Travel-to-Teach is organizing the placement, my accommodations, and has been great to answer my many questions like...how close are we to a hospital...you know, just in case (within 30 minutes). They are even picking me up at the airport and helping me sort out my visas.

Oh, and TIP: My 2-entry 120 day visa (valid from the date is issued) was free instead of the normal 60 or 90 EUR or whatever it normally is! And, just in case you are doing the math, I only plan to stay in Thailand for about 6 weeks, but that was not a visa length option.

From their, I am either going to visit a Buddhist temple for a few nights and learn about Buddhism just north of Chiang Mai or skip it and take 21 days to explore Vietnam instead of the originally planned 16 days. We'll see. I may be able to learn about Buddhism at one of the 300 temples in Chiang Mai on evenings after I am done teaching. How much enlightening can one person have in one month anyway? Or should I dare to ask.

Seven more days and counting until I am unemployed and just under one month until I hitch on the backpack! Craazzy!

Excuse me, I have an announcement to make...

Tap, tap, tap....Is this thing on. I have an announcement to make. I quit my job.

Yes, you heard me right. I am leaving my job voluntarily...and I am going to take a career break (this, by the way, is the best term I have heard so far that does not imply any spaces in my mental or psychological capacities) to do a round-the-world-trip for about seven months. What started as a six month trip is expanding quickly. I find myself thinking, "Hey, what's another week," over and over again. I gave my notice last week and my last day will be January 28. After a brief trip to Chicago, I will be on my way to Bangkok on February 16. Yes, that is approximately six weeks from now. No need to dawdle, I say.

Here is the list of destinations so far. I will fill you in as I figure it out.

Thailand
- Bangkok
- Phuket, Crabi, Phi Phi (diving)
- Chiang Mia (volunteer teaching English)
- Stay at a Buddhist temple north of Chiang Mai

Vietnam
- Hanoi
- Halong Bay
- Hoi An
- Nha Trang
- Hue
- Saigon (Ho Chi Min)

Cambodia
- Phnom Penh(volunteer teaching English)
- Siem Riep

Malaysia
- Borneo
- Sipadan Island (diving)

Indonesia
- Bali (diving, yoga)

New Zealand
Fiji
Tonga (diving with whale sharks, hopefully)

San Francisco
- thinking either wine tour up California coast
OR
- tour national parks
OR a little of both

And then I head back home September 30...
So, if anyone has some travel advice or tips to any of the places listed above, I would greatly appreciate it.

Happy New Year! What?!

Here's a video I took with my digital camera at 7.30pm on New Year's Eve. I am walking along my street here in The Netherlands. Something I still can't wrap my head around is that people here are allowed to put off their own fireworks on New Year's Eve. I'm not talking about just sparklers either. Does this sound like sparklers?!

Keep in-mind when viewing this video that the microphone on my digital camera is really tiny so the sound is somewhat dulled. I took a video of the sidewalk as I walked down the street in front of my house. It is possible to make-out my shoes, the sound of my jeans, and my turning around to head back towards the house. I didn't try to capture anything else visually for a few reasons. Partly because the fireworks put off in the hours and days before and after midnight on New Year's Eve are mainly loud in nature and don't offer much to see. They just sound like what I imagine a bomb would sound like. I also didn't want to draw the attention of the people putting off the fireworks - in this case a group of five teenage boys a few doors down from our house, and two sets of boys 15-20 years old at both ends of our street. I've experienced fireworks being thrown at on-lookers or passerbys or having boys on bicycles ride down the street and throw fireworks at-random at pedestrians.

I can't decide whether it's best to just stay out of the country for New Year's Eve or to stay home and keep a protective eye on our house and car as fireworks are haphazardly detonated and fly under cars, out into the street, or hit the front door and window of our house. According to a 2001 article by "Voices of Holland", an estimated ten million kilos, worth around forty-five million euros, is exploded on January 1 each year by private citizens. And, amazingly, only one percent of the population, about twelve hundred people, is injured. I wish they'd take hearing lose into consideration or damage to private property.

The "Voices" article also explained that the origins of the Dutch fireworks tradition lies in the early trade contacts with China, where, about two thousand years ago, the explosive mixture of saltpeter, sulphide and charcoal dust was discovered. As early as the seventeenth century, Dutch merchant fleets brought home decorative fireworks from the Far East, which was popular among the well-to-do middle classes. But, until the beginning of the previous century in, for instance, Amsterdam, the New Year would be marked by firing a few small canons. Elsewhere, people would go no further than igniting carbide in milk cans in order to frighten evil spirits. The ‘democratization’ of luxury decorative fireworks did not start for real until after the Second World War.

Gratefully, my Dutch husband finds the letting off anything more than a sparkler to be a waste of money. And, to be honest, from the right vantage point, New Year's Eve can be pretty spectacular to watch. There is a countdown here televised on three of the major channels so fireworks are relatively synchronized. We rang in the new year with two friends at their house. From their third floor windows, we had a view for miles around against a backdrop of a canal lined with traditional Dutch houses. Our friend, Christiaan filmed this video with his webcam. I think the fireworks went on for about an hour like this. All and all, it was pretty amazing and I found myself running from window to window oohing and aahing. Good wine, a nice meal, and champagne helped.

Happy New Year!

Turkey & Sint

Thoughts from Sunday....our internet was on the fritz. Be forewarned: This post contains cultural bias.

Our Thanksgiving dinner went pretty well last weekend. Here is a picture of our table before anyone arrived. I really meant to take a picture with all of the food on the table, but we immediately dug into the food as soon as it hit the table.

In the end, we skipped the Camembert mashed potatoes and the sweet potatoes. I also couldn't find boneless turkey breast halves with their skin still on so we settled for quarter pound boneless, skinless turkey breasts stuffed with herbs that didn't quite hold their moisture as well with their skin.

And Art Smith's root vegetable gratin should have included a warning that not all roots were created equal. Rutabaga, for instance, is Earth's version of a brick shaped just smaller than a bowling ball. So, while the potatoes in the gratin turned out nicely, the oven time barely made a softening dent in the rutagaba. My husband, the good Dutch man he is, quickly announced that the dish was partly cooked, thus, relieving all of us of the need to choke them down.

The green beans with pesto sauce, the pear and sausage stuffing and gravy were really nice. The surprise of the night was how well the eggnog and mulled wine turned out. Here is the eggnog recipe. Just add a few more swigs of brandy...for luck, of course. One guest literally licked her mug clean.

Indulgent Eggnog Recipe

6 eggs

2 + ½ cups heavy whipping cream

2 cups whole milk

1 cup caster sugar

½ cup brandy

½ cup dark rum

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon nutmeg, ground or grated (fresh is best)

Begin with pre-chilled ingredients for the greatest end result.In a medium bowl, beat the eggs together hard until they're very frothy.Add sugar and continue beating.Sprinkle in nutmeg and vanilla.Continue beating.A little at a time, add in the whipping cream, continuing to beat.Again, only a little at a time, beat in the milk.Finally, beat in the rum and brandy.Give your arms a break from all that beating by putting the eggnog in the fridge to chill for 1 – 2 hours.

Serve cold.

Sinterklaas

Yesterday was Sinterklaas Avond (St. Nicholas Eve). Last night, St. Nick rode around on his big white horse so that his helpers, Zwarte (black) Piets, could shimmy down people's chimneys (thus somehow giving them black faces and blackening their tightly curled hair, but allowing them to keep their jester-like colorful outfits and tights spotlessly clean) to fill the shoes that had been left out by Dutch children. To this day, the story goes something like...The good Dutch boys and girls' shoes will be filled with gifts and candy while the naughtier ones' shoes will be filled with salt. And the naughtiest of the lot will be taken in a large, burlap sack and sail to St. Nick’s home in Spain. And they make fun of Thanksgiving! Forgive me for being in favor of the delusion of Native Americans sitting down for a meal with their colonial invaders over encouraging a country’s children to believe in an old, white Spanish man that sends his dark skinned, MC Hammer-panted ‘helpers’ down people’s chimneys to either put things into their shoes or kidnap them.

David Sedaris has written a great critique of the phenomenon that is much funnier than I could ever write so I will leave my description at that. One thing he didn’t realize that is mentioned in the Wikipedia link above is that, as the fairy tale goes, St. Nick originally threw gold coins down the chimney to poor girls so that they wouldn’t have to prostitute themselves out. No, I didn’t make that up. It brings a whole new cultural facet to the Red Light districts made famous here.

I have stopped trying to understand the various foods associated with the holidays and have just decided to try them all. For instance, marzipan in the shape of St. Nick or Zwarte Piet or fruit is a common candy given during the holidays. The most popular shape for marzipan, though, is a pig. Grocery stores sell a small, cartoon version of a pig’s face, but chocolatiers and bakeries here display nearly life sized two dimensional pigs. Customers are sawed off a slice of the pig to do what with I have yet to figure out.

By far, my favorite tradition is the giving of chocolate letters. Dutch chocolate is some of the best in the world. Imagine getting a solid 7x5 inch piece in the shape of the first letter of your name. It is also usually decorated with a hard chocolate frosting to which is affixed candied hazelnuts or a tiny replica of Zwarte Piet’s face in marzipan. They come in white, dark or milk chocolate and are sometimes filled with chocolate mousse. My husband’s mother brings us each one every December 5^th.

A close second is the roomboter amandel letter. It a buttery pastry filled with almond and sugar paste and shaped into an "M". The other things pictured here are kruidnoten (mini-gingerbread cookies), marzipan pieces,

Thanksgiving

Hi All! Because I am missing out on Thanksgiving in the U.S., my husband and I decided to invite some friends over the Saturday after Thanksgiving (since we don't get that Thursday and Friday off...oh and the pains I get every year on those days knowing that my U.S. friends and family are having time off and getting the shopping bargains of the year. My best attempts at keeping up via internet shopping just don't have the same satisfaction....I digress).

So, this weekend is the ingredients shopping and cleaning weekend. I thought it might interest people to know what we are planning to make, how it turns out, and how our Dutch and Canadian friends react. Did you know they celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada? Yes, it's celebrated in October to mark the fall harvest, but was originally celebrated as a homecoming feast for an explorer named Martin Frobisher after he returned from an exploration to try and find a northern passage to the Pacific Ocean (thanks, wikipedia!). Oh, those Canadians...if America could have half the peaceful history of it's northern neighbors...we probably wouldn't have given birth to such greats as Rambo, The Sopranos, and Grand Theft Auto. Just kidding.

Yes, so onto the projected menu which is skipping food for appetizers because, honestly, I've never heard of that phase for Thanksgiving and why is it needed when the main course is traditionally SO huge? Instead, we are focusing on drinks - mulled wine cider from a mix we picked up in Margaret River, Australia that includes instructions to buy the biggest box of wine you can find (this could be interesting) and eggnog (a Dutch friend is curious about it and since we won't see them for Christmas when this is the more appropriate time for it, we are giving it a try).

The meal will include turkey breasts with herb gravy prepared from a Rachel Ray recipe. A whole turkey just doesn't fit into our timetable or our European combo microwave/oven. The side dishes include sourdough stuffing with pears and sausage, Camembert mashed potatoes, cinnamon sweet potatoes with vanilla (this is a 'maybe' at this phase because, as you will notice, we have a lot of root vegetables on the list), fast and fancy green beans (Yes, that is the actual name of the recipe. We'll see if it delivers.), cranberry sauce (that promises to only take five minutes to make), and Art Smith's recipe (and Oprah's favorite) for root vegetable gratin. Rolls will be thrown in there, but probably not the King's Hawaiian bread or Pillsbury crescent rolls I grew up with especially since I have been assured that, outside of the U.S., croissants are only served for breakfast.

For dessert, we are having a cheese tray, an assortment of chocolates from a local chocolatier, and my husband is making two types of ice cream - mint chocolate chip and cinnamon. I know, you are thinking, "Where are the pumpkin and pecan pies and cinnamon apples?" Well, they are in the U.S. I just can't be bothered to make a dessert or three. The liquid appetizers and main course are already a giant step forward from my first attempt at Thanksgiving dinner a few years back that included a turkey breast, stuffing, and steamed green beans followed by store bought sorbet for dessert. I really don't know how my mom has done it all of these years...and totally sober throughout the entire day. I would have cried (and probably will have to fight back tears) if anyone did anything less than lick their plates clean after such preparation.

So, I am headed out to do the shopping before my second go at Bikram yoga.

My New Grandma Bike

Against popular Dutch wisdom, I bought a new bike today. No, it's not just new to me. It's new. Whereas my previous Dutch bikes had been on the road longer than I had, I will be the first owner this time around. Instead of paying someone to fix my current bike's flat tire and probably bent rim, I decided I want to buy an omafiets. The name literally translates to "Grandma bike". I have only seen this bike in The Netherlands and I won't speculate as to why the bike has this name, but I will say that this type of bike is characterised by a lack of gears, a brake triggered by moving the pedals backwards, a diagonal piece of plastic that covers the top part of the back wheel to keep skirts catching in the spokes and a wide, high-set horseshoe curved handle bar that allows the rider to sit upright while cycling. I won't pretend to think that this will make me look as graceful on a bike as the tall, thin Dutch women with high heels, a skirt, and long blonde hair streaming in the wind balancing a child on the back in a car seat type chair, but at least I can sit upright like them as sweat runs down my forehead and my face turns red.

My husband and I decided to go against conventional wisdom mainly because the second hand stores are few and far between these days and their prices are ridiculously high for what you get compared to what you can pay for a cheap low-end bike (probably made in China instead of The Netherlands). Two years ago, I bought a three speed bike that turned out to only have one and a half speeds with handle bar brakes and a rusted kick stand that promptly broke off a few weeks later for about 80 euros and it wasn't the upright sitting omafiets I wanted. Today I got the exact bike in the picture above for 140 euros, a year warranty, and a free six month tune up. It also has working front and rear lights (that will be stolen shortly), a comfy seat (that will also probably be stolen shortly despite by efforts to tie it on with two zip ties) and a nice old fashioned wheel stand that folds down from the back wheel.

I switched out the rear wheel lock from my old bike and fastened it to the bike rack at the end of our street with my old chain lock and an additional new one. Hopefully, it will all be there in one piece tomorrow.

Sweating Bikram

Saturday...

My doctor advised me to try meditation or yoga and a work colleague has been raving about Bikram yoga. I saw a Bikram yoga center close to our house years ago and first heard about the 'sweaty yoga' while living in Chicago, but I have always chickened out from trying it....until today.

Bikram yoga is a 90 minute yoga class that takes place in a room heated to 105 F degrees with 30% humidity and always consists of 27 postures and two breathing exercises. Beginners and advanced students are purposely not separated to discourage any semblance of a caste system. It was also appealing because it is the only exercise class that I can find entirely in English. The yoga studio is a white room bare except for carpet lined with three duct tape marks demarcating where students should lay yoga mats, fluorescent lights, floor-to-ceiling mirrors on three two walls and a ballet bar on a third wall. There are three windows set high along the back wall that look out onto trees, but they are tightly closed. It's your basic exercise room except it feels immediately like someone has forgotten they've left the thermostat cranked up and the instructor, a tiny twenty-something woman welcomes us, identifies the first timers (me and what looks like a twenty year old Dutch woman) and then takes her position standing at the back of the room where she begins to call out poses. Instead of doing the poses with us, she continually talks us through what we should be doing, adjusting and how it should feel. In an authoritarian yet soothing and positive voice, she comes around occasionally to correct or praise students by name.

The front desk attendant told me, twice actually, to take a place at the back of the class so I could watch other students. Happy to follow those directions, I took a place in the back in the farthest corner from the door. When the other students, probably 30 in all, started silently filling in (silence is required in the studio) and I saw there trim bodies and muscular bodies complete with six pack abs (women too!) I thought, "Well, I've come to the right place. This yoga works!" Then they started 'stretching'. Have you ever seen a gymnast, ballerina, or contortionist warm-up? I mean, have you seen them in-person? Well, I saw all three today. It was beautiful and excruciating to watch. For my first class, I was only expected to stay in the room for the full 90 minutes. Perpetually cold, I wasn't worried about the heat and I have read about this kind of yoga, but when the instructor calmly explains the expectation and that, should I feel nauseous or dizzy, I should just take a position sitting on my knees and watch, I can't help, but wander to myself that, if I should get sick, sitting silently on my knees will be the farthest thing from my mind.

Very few of the students bring water with them so I am slightly embarrassed by my nearly liter sized water bottle, but, a few minutes into the stretches, I was so grateful for it. I was also the only person wearing a shirt and one of few wearing capri style yoga pants. Most women are in a sports bra and spandex hot pants like the ones I used to dread I'd have to wear in high school volleyball. It would look sexy or trashy except that most have so little body fat (and no cellulite visible from 10 feet away) that they lost any signs of cleavage or muffin tops long ago. I can dream! The men, thankfully, wear knee length swim trunks or mesh shorts. I have seen more than my share of gay men in spandex shorts and old men in threadbare, short tennis shorts at gyms.

The stretching ends after what could have been 5 or 20 minutes and sweat is streaming down my forehead and shins. I am discouraged, but not dizzy, nauseous or in pain so I hang in there. Somewhere in the middle, we take a break to watch a sub-section of the class that will be participating in a country-wide yoga competition (Who would have thought?). The six of them simultaneously showed us their three minute demonstrations. I was gob smacked. As we were all clapping, a few of the yogis' smiles broadened as our eyes met and I realised I need to pick my chin up off the floor. One women had just managed to, with her fleet flat on the floor, bend in half frontwards and put not only her head through her legs, but also her arms enough so that she could wrap her elbows around the back of her knees to grab her ankles. Another woman did some sort of similar combination, but managed to be perched on her arms with her legs extending out parallel to the floor. It made me think of David Lettermen's segment "Stupid Human Tricks" and Cirque du Soleil.

I thought these six might be the exceptions, the superstars until we went to the mat portion of class. I was doing okay, not going nearly as deep into poses as others, but also not falling over or passing out. That was until we were instructed to sit on our knees with them spread so that our bottoms touched the floor. I couldn't quite do that. Then it started to get complicated. We were instructed to put our hands up on our lower back and begin to lean backwards until our heads and backs touched the ground. I started to get dizzy when I bent back just far enough to look at the ceiling so I went happily to the bent knee sit. To my surprise, 90% of the class folded themselves backwards! I stifled a "Wow!".

Before I knew it, the lights were turned off and we were told we could stay as long as we wanted, but that the class portion was over. Happy to continue laying down with my eyes closed making myself one with the floor, I decided I would follow class etiquette and left when the person closest to me left a few minutes later.

I've read on-line that the 90 minutes of yoga burns anywhere from 550-1,000 calories. Let me tell you, whatever I did burn went in the form of sweat to my clothing. It was as if I had jumped into a pool with my clothes on. And, before you dismiss me as nuts or just following the latest trend, know that it is a very low impact form of exercise and is the first exercise I've experienced where I felt so in-tune with my own body. There weren't any machines or equipment or even shoes helping me exercise. It was all me. I left feeling tired, but really good. The best way to describe it is purified. I felt nimbler and walked a little bit taller from improved posture.

Sunday...

I slept a solid ten hours last night and woke to a body retracting in on itself. The muscles in my lower back, hips, and hamstrings have snapped back to attention and I am left feeling like a hunched back old woman trying to straighten myself upright to walk. And my abs, my neck, and my shoulders are not to be ignored either. All of this from some stretching and heat. I think I might be hooked!

Bugs & Blahs

From Saturday....

My apologies that it has been so long since my last post and my continued apologies that this will be a short post. I have had the strangest stomach bug this past week or so. I was sure it was the flu and that I had finally kicked it today, but it reared it's ugly head at me today when I tried to get out for a walk. I know, I know. You are all thinking, "Oh my god, you've got the Mexican flu (or whatever it's called these days)!" I don't have the most worrying symptoms and, even so, they advise here in The Netherlands to just stay home and wait for it to pass (unless you are a baby or elderly).

On top of it, the rain and clouds have settled in here for the past several days giving the feeling that it is eternally 5.00 pm except for when is actually 5.00 pm and the dark suddenly envelops everything.

Today...

So I went back to work yesterday and was overcome and more than a bit scared by a stabbing pain in my rib cage. I decided it was time to go make what would probably be a futal attempt at a doctor's appointment. Thankfully, the pain reduced on my train ride from work to the office. Unfortunately, this convinced the doctor I was seeing that I wasn't really that sick. If I'd passed out on the train or was no longer able to walk, he assured me, he would have checked me into the hospital. He diagnosed me with intestinal inflammation (Well, duh!) and told me that if the pain got really bad to call him immediately. I told him that I had been in a lot of pain so that is why I called. He paused and said, "Trust me. You'll know." I asked him what I should eat to avoid the pain and he told me to avoid fatty foods. "I was eating broccoli and brown rice." He smiles and says, "To tell you the truth, there is no way to tell what will cause you pain. All food will probably cause you pain in the next few days. You just have to wait for the bacteria to leave your system."

I felt lucky to get anything. I think I got something to help stop stomach spasms and something else to help with the acid that I do not have, but have been guaranteed that I will get. All for less than two euros. The prescription information and warnings are in Dutch, but my husband assures me I'll feel better.

Lord, Julia, how did you do it?

I guess it's safe to finally reveal how we've been spending an inordinate amount of time on these past weeks....

Our appetizer and dessert entries for our annual competition with four other couples. I can only imagine what you were all thinking when you read that first sentence!

This contest started long before I met my husband and has evolved into a heated competition that he and his friends dreamed up to liven up our typical get togethers. A trophy of a mounted wooden spoon and secret ballot voting was even introduced last year. Last year our artichoke dip and pecan encrusted sweet potato pie didn't even come close to winning so we are determined this year and have spent several weeks trying out different recipes and testing the reactions of work colleagues. I know, it's a bit sad, but it's been fun. It gave Theo an excuse to get his parents' ice cream maker out of storage and gave me an excuse to go to the cooking store for a new ceramic tart pan. So, for the appetizer I'd made chicken liver pate with homemade rosemary focaccia bread. For dessert, we made a flourless chocolate tart with a chocolate crust and two flavors of ice cream: mint chocolate chip and white grape-lemon. We just couldn't come to an agreement on the ice cream flavor.

It's taken most of our Friday night and Saturday to make these dishes and I am exhausted before we even leave for the dinner party. On my ipod, I have been listening to Julia Child's autobiography about her and her husband Paul's years in France. God, that woman loved food! It was easily her obsession. She would spend days figuring out the exact amount of every ingredient that should go one recipe. My attention span wanes half way through a recipe that someone else has already figured out. And if I have to convert it from cups to grams, forget about it.

So, after having to chill my chocolate crust dough not once, but twice - first after kneading and then again after rolling it out and shaping it into the pie dish - I was not enthused about having to bake the crust twice before filling it with a chocolate mousse mixture to bake. The reason for the two rounds of baking of the crust is to use, in the first instance, uncooked beans or rice to weigh down the crust to keep it from rising. I accidentally skipped the step of placing baking paper between the crust and rice I was using and, thus, had rice baked nicely into my crust after ten minutes. With the time ticking away before we left for the competition and the air seeping out of the mousse mixture I had just beat the life out of, I started over on the dough. I luckily had just enough eggs and flour left and got the torte finished just in-time to wrap it in aluminum foil and get the next tram. In the ensuing hour or so of sitting on the counter in foil, not only did my torte not cool off, but it had turned into a fudgy pudding of sorts. All I could do was try to mask the mistake with chocolate powder. It still tasted good, but it just wasn't the same and everyone knew it.

Update: We got third place! Out of five... I can't help, but admit my disappointment. I will save you the post mortem except to say that all of the other entries were head and shoulders above last year's. We had a delicious meal and a great night. I guess that's what matters most.

Paradise Falls

We just got back from the movies...and I just have to write about it and tell everyone that they MUST go see "Up" in 3D. I know, I know, it's a cartoon...but it was the best movie we've seen in a long time. I won't ruin it for you. I will just say that the story is funny and sad and universal. Yes, I cried...more than once. And the animation into 3D really makes it a whole new experience. I wouldn't say that the 3D is riveting, but the story was definitely animated with it in-mind. Just when you forget you're wearing the big, clunky 3D glasses, a bird or dog seems to fly off the screen towards you.

Other than that, our weekend is off to a good start. I volunteered yesterday, plowing my way through editing research papers other volunteers have written about Sierra Leone where the NGO plans to begin micro lending. It's interesting and, yet, depressing stuff. My husband and I kicked off the weekend by treating ourselves to a new (new to us) Japanese restaurant and an after dinner drink at the neighborhood bar we don't get to often enough.

This morning I tried out a new aerobics class, Body Vive....snoozer! Friday night I was just too tired and in a funk to haul myself to a Body Pump class so I tried to make up for it with a Saturday morning class. It wasn't the same. It was a bit like taking a tai chi class with a kickball from Jane Fonda. And, yes, I mean taking it from 72 year old Jane Fonda...except that we were taught by a blonde version of Jack McFarland from "Will and Grace". Imagine it...Have a look at the class at www.lesmills.com. It would make for a great tv episode, but it wasn't a great workout. Tomorrow, I will be back at Body Pump and it is sure to kick my butt.

Well, have a great weekend everyone!

National Parks Darwin

Today has been a downer. I refuse to talk about work, but let's just say I almost walked out...again. Stupid people, superfluous reports, meaningless conversation...blah, blah, blah. It doesn't help that I am listening to Jon Krakauer's account of his trip up Mt. Everest in "Into Thin Air". So many people fighting physical and mental walls to face a mountain and do the thing they love...climb. It's enough to get me out of bed in the morning to want to listen to it, but I spend the rest of the day feeling like I am wasting time. I am lucky in so many ways...one of which is a four day work week...it's just hard to keep perspective some days. I think the scientific term for my condition is called "Being in a rut".

I have traveling on my mind a lot these days. And so I open it up to everyone with a question: Where would you go if you could hop on a plane tomorrow? Why? Oh, and this is now a public blog so feel free to forward my blog on.

So, I pour myself a big glass of wine and crack open my journal and return to my trip to Australia...

Day 3: Kakadu and Litchfield National Parks south of Darwin

The national park safari out of Darwin is definitely and adventure all its own, but I am having an unexpected parallel experience. I am the only American in a group of 11 tourists with a female Australian guide. There are two German women in their 20's, my husband and eight French people. Two of the French are probably Germany, but the woman complains so much and I could have sworn they are from Paris. (It turns out they are, indeed, German. They are from a place in Germany I had actually visited and they were both chemists, a relatively close occupation to accountants in the types of people they draw, the salaries, and the social stereotypes others bring to them so I expected to be fast friends, but either their strange sense of humor or ours or both left for a few too many awkward silences and so we kept our distance.)

For starters, my husband and I are the biggest. We are easily the tallest of our respective genders and we are the only two in the group with a few pounds to lose...and I do mean a few. We are both on the top end of our healthy weight ranges, but it's also the European weight range which I find to be much narrower than the American (or Australian, for that matter).

Secondly, our fellow travellers seem disproportionately insistent on fresh vegetables for meals. (I mean, come on, we are on a wilderness safari in Australia. We are not on a wine tour of Bordeaux.) The first lunch of foot long hot dogs was met with looks of utter disdain. (Remember, this is our first meal together and we are but a few hours into the trip. Normally, people are still on their best behavior at this point.) The tour guide serving lunch asked, "What's the problem, vegetarian?"

Dinner went somewhat the same. The coleslaw and potato salad, what our guide termed "the veg", clumped together with eggs and mayo went basically to waste and I think I was the only female to eat two water buffalo sausages. It might have helped had I mentioned that buffalo is one of the leanest meats - leaner than both pork and beef - but I didn't say anything. Let the food snobs go hungry. The leftover sausages will be our lunch tomorrow along with the untouched chew toys masquerading as kangaroo meat. And if our Australian guide isn't touching them, neither am I.

Yesterday we went to Litchfield National Park and saw termite hills ten feel high. One type of termite lines its hills up like graveyard headstones through some genetically programmed directional device innate to that species. Hundreds of thousands of termites will inhabit each mound. There are over 60 breeds of termites and little is known about them except how they stave off ants, their nemesis. Each termite has the ability to let off a musty odor. Upon seeing a soldier ant entering their territory, a termite will spray the ant with the seemingly innocuous liquid. The scent, though, tricks the soldier's fellow ants into thinking he's a termite and so they spontaneously and brutally eat the ant alive.

My husband demonstrated the termite's power by sticking his finger into a hole in a termite's nest. One never to be out-done by a dare and always up for a laugh, he happily followed our cheeky guide's request. His finger smelled of Stetson cologne for days. The hills, though, were fascinating. One side of the mound was hot. The other side, cool. They are built high to withstand floods in the valley and yet a resistant to fires in the dry season.

It's hard to get enthusiastic about anything in +90 degree weather except for maybe the waterfalls we visited for a swim and the chocolate covered strawberry ice cream bar I found at a gas station. I also splurged and bought two bottles of Riesling wine to eat with meals. I was glad I did because the beer the guys bought was so bad they didn't even want to drink it. Dinner was definitely a quantity over quality experience.

To be continued...

Say goodnight grandma

Say goodnight grandma shoes. I just finished my first day at work with my new Earth Aspire shoes. They are great! The sole isn't as clunky as it looks in this picture and it SO much more stylish than the MBT's I normally wear to work. They are also a fraction of the price. The Aspires have elastic around the top of the shoe that keeps the shoes on my feet unlike most flats. They also have the negative heel technology that keeps my posture in-line and I can go all day without back soreness. They also have nice arch support and are a soft enough leather that they stretch to accommodate my crooked feet. The only downside is that the the elastic around the top can pinch the back of your foot. It was just a matter of putting band-aids on the back of my heels. It was a small adjustment to end the stares at work and on the train.

I know this sounds like a sales pitch, but I wish someone would have told me about Earth shoes years ago so I thought I'd pass along the tip. I bought my through Planet Shoes, but Zappos also has them.

Going down under

I wrote this journal entry after a stop over in a Singapore airport on the way to Perth, Australia. I have added my comments in parenthesis.

"There are so many people here, moreover types of people and clothing, the likes of which I have never seen before. The people filling the flat belts, people movers, that run down the center of the terminals are mostly short, around five feet tall, skinny, and olive brown. One type of Asian woman I saw with beautiful long black shiny hair literally had no forehead. Her hairline started half an inch or less above bushy black eyebrows.

Many here are wearing white linen. Head to toe robes with the women wearing head coverings and the men in what I can only describe as vanilla sailors' caps atop heavily bearded faces. I must find out what religion promotes such elegant and soothing attire. It looks quite comfortable too. The women in full black burka, only their eyes visible, stand out even more against the sea of ivory robes. Where is this Jeddah they are going to? Departures is a sea of ivory speckled with black. (I later find out that Jeddah, Saudia Arabia is the country's second largest city and the principal gateway to Mecca, Islam's holiest city. Jaddah is the Arabic word for grandmother. Eastern folklore states that its the location of the tomb of Eve, considered the grandmother of humanity. The men are wearing the prescribed attire for a pilgrimage, an ihram, and the women are wearing their normal hijab, but probably a cream colored version. The simple, white Ihram clothing is intended to unify the believers and make everyone appear the same since Muslims believe that in the eyes of Allah there is no difference between a prince and a pauper. Having seen my fair share of gold laden and jewel bedazzled holy men, I find the ritual righteous in the best sense of the word and can't help, but think that someone all those years ago had a great classic sense of fashion.)

My first experience with an Australian was one of the Quantas flight attendants on-board our flight from Frankfurt, Germany to Singapore. True to form, after he asked where we were headed in Australia, he launched in with tips to see a deadly, wild lizard that has a peacock like feature to it's neck that springs to life when he is threatened and a tough man's crooked walk. (We later saw him from a safe distance and from behind glass in the Sydney Wildlife World.) And then there was warning about the crocodiles in Litchfield National Park and, most emphatically of all, the warning about driving in southern Australia and watching out for kangaroos. He was quite graphic in explaining that some 'roos are taller than my husband and can jump eight to nine feet vertically from a standing position and are so fast they will be 'on your bonnet' and through your windshield continuing completely through the car before the driver can even react. Welcome to Australia! Just like author Bill Bryson said, these helpful tips were all delivered in a bright and eerily relaxed matter-of-fact tone. When my eyes widened, I guess larger than anticipated, the attendant admitted he'd never actually hit a kangaroo in his 38 years. My husband concluded that he must just like to f*&% with tourists, but I think it's something more benign and cultural."

I've added some pictures of the crocodiles and kangaroos. We did take a boat trip through a billabong (i.e. lake) in Litchfield National Park infested with approximately 8,000 fresh and saltwater crocodiles. We saw a few dozen crocodiles perched on the banks, but they both couldn't have been less interested in us and also were very aware of their status at the top of the food chain. The kangaroos, on the other hand, did jump across our path a few times while driving in Margaret River and there were several casualties lining the road, but they kept to the open pastures for the most part and were pretty shy.

Monkey Mia & Dolphins

As promised, more memories from Australia. I thought I'd work backwards...for no other reason than I can remember what we did most recently the best. For the earlier stuff from the trip, I will revert to my journal.

For the last few days of our vacation we went to the most touristy stop on our itinerary, Monkey Mia. The Monkey Mia Dolphin Resort was established for and subsists almost entirely on the dolphins that come ashore for daily feedings from the national park rangers. They come ashore because, starting about forty years ago, fisherman and later tourists fed the dolphins. Once a very remote fishing and pearl harvesting area was suddenly inundated with people feeding the dolphins all throughout the day, touching them and swimming with them. The tourists fed them everything from fish to french fries to steak. Despite the obvious problems that come from feeding an animal food they don't normally eat and touching a wild animal, the continual feeding actually endangered the breeding of the dolphins. Generations of dolphins were not learning how to hunt for food themselves and the mothers were not feeding their young. The female dolphins feed there young through an opening on the underside of their bodies in their midsection. If the mothers were constantly going to the shallow water to get fed by beachgoers, the babies no longer had an opportunity to have enough space to get under their mothers to feed. Eventually the babies would starve or get eaten by one of the thousand of sharks in the neighborhood because the dolphins had also stopped hunting in pods or groups, thus disabling their inherent protective hunting technique. All of this was explained by the rangers leading the feedings.

To improve the situation and also allow tourism to continue, the National Parks rangers are now the only people allowed to feed the dolphins and are only allowed to feed them the equivalent of 1/4 of their daily intake. They also only feed female dolphins that come from a line of dolphins that had been inappropriately fed in the past. This translates to the feeding of about five female dolphins. The also only feed before noon with the first feeding starting at 7.30 am, but I think this has more to do with getting tourists to stay overnight in the exorbitantly expensive hotel on the beach's shores instead of them driving the 25 kilometers from the nearest small town where the prices are much lower.

I was incredibly excited about seeing the dolphins up close and in what I thought would be a natural environment. I also thought I would get the opportunity to snorkel or dive with them so I was disappointed, but could understand. We had the beachouse closest to the dolphin feeding area and it had a great front porch so I wasn't too disappointed because it was a great way to end the vacation. I couldn't help, but feel a bit silly, though, for spending so much money to see the animal kingdom's equivalent to welfare recipients or, excuse the turn of phrase, but dolphin white trash. I mean, think about it. One of the mothers we took so many pictures of had lost something like five of seven children from malnutrition and we watched as the current child had to squeak and prod the mother to deeper water so he could eat. Instead, she played it up for the cameras and raced up and down the beach for the tourists and could have for an hour had the lead ranger not insisted on speeding up the feeding so that the mother would leave the shallows.

The main difference I noticed in going to a tourist trap was the high amount of Asian tourist...mostly Japanese. On the national parks tour outside of Darwin and in Cairns, I had heard tour operators comment that the biggest impact the recession was having was the decrease in Asian and mainly Japanese tourists. In the next breath, though, they would shrug and say that at least they didn't have to put up with their aggressive and sometimes ignorant behavior. One guide put it that they seem to ignore their normally obedient and group oriented culture and morph into aggressive photographers with selective hearing. I thought the comment funny albeit a bit stereotypical...until I got to Monkey Mia. For instance, some members of all Asian tour groups would just go out into the water to take pictures of the dolphins and remain their even after repeatedly being asked by the rangers to leave the water. I was secretly proud of my husband who leaned forward, probably somewhat enabled by his Dutch cultural stereotype towards directness, and said something like, "Hey lady in the plaid hat with the video camera, that means you too."

I should explain that, for the feedings, all tourists have to leave the water to cut down on some of the activity and 'noise' in the water because for the dolphins' incredibly sensitive 'hearing', the extra people in water has the effect of making them more nervous. It also eliminates the possibility of touching the dolphins which had started to trigger the dolphins to bite in the past. Volunteers are then picked from the audience to feed.

One Japanese woman was picked from the audience to feed a dolphin. She cheerily came forward and fed the dolphin and then bent down and pet the dolphin like you would a dog even after strict instruction not to touch the animals. The immediate admonishments from the staff and the gasps from the crowd didn't seem to dampen her cheerfulness as she sloshed her way back through the shallows to the beach to be received by the rest of her tour group with pats on the back, vigorous head nods and wide smiles.

I tried to upload a video of one of the baby dolphins trying to catch his own fish, but it must have been too large of a file because it just wouldn't load. Instead, I am posting one close up picture of one of the female dolphins and another of the crowd gathered for a 7.30 am feed.

Dutch lessons...again

I started taking Dutch lessons again last night. Before I go on, don't worry, I will write more about our trip to Australia this weekend, I just wanted to write this since I haven't written in awhile and, honestly, to relieve some guilt.

My friend, whom I met about two years ago on our previous attempt at Dutch classes, and I thought it was finally time to stop making excuses and start courses again. It could be our pending four year anniversary of living in the country and the ever mounting guilt at living in a country and not being fluent in the local language yet. That's not the guilt I mentioned before so hold on.

This time, we went for a Dutch for Expats class taught for English speakers. As the other members of our (coincidentally) all female class filed in, I felt like this class would be worth the slightly higher price tag. I was the first to arrive thanks to my husband doing me the big favor of driving me the ten kilometers across town and potentially giving up the last remaining parking spot on our always crowded street so that I didn't have to take public transport when my imminent jet lag kicked in.

The instructor greeted me in Dutch and, while surprised and having a bit of reversed culture shock after speaking only English for a month, I responded as best I could and took a seat. Just as I was thinking, "Okay, this is good. The teacher is speaking mainly Dutch. This is the best way to learn. I've been told that. I just need to be open to it"... the next student walked in and her eyes bulged and mouth dropped open in a nervous shock when greeted in Dutch, the typical expat reaction to Dutch and sported by me for my first two years here and still my default reaction if I don't consciously make an effort to relax my face and breath. As I watched and listened to the other members of the class excitedly chat to each other (they had all taken the previous class together) in English and recognized the English, Australian, and British accents of the women all roughly my age, I sighed in relief. This is going to be a fun class. My last class closer resembled the UN General Assembly and English was sporadic.

We eased into the course by introducing ourselves and explaining what we did on vacation. As I had just explained this the day before to my Dutch mother-in-law, I felt reasonably comfortable and was okay with being asked to go first. I was interrupted by the last student arriving to the class and asked to stop so I scanned the room to see expressions of mild shock and panic on the faces of my classmates. For the first time, I had actually impressed (actually intimidated) others with my Dutch! To their wowed comments, I impulsively spouted, "My mother-in-law only speaks Dutch with me"...somehow explaining that I must get a lot of practice.

Not only is that statement a bald faced lie, but I also failed to interject that not only do we only see her once every few months, but also that I had lived in The Netherlands for close to four years, much longer than most of them. Where did that outburst come from? And why did I feel the need to wrongly blame my mother-in-law to these strangers instead of admit that I am horrible with languages and more than a tad lazy? Thankfully, my friend didn't bust me on my lie, but she had all right to. Does anyone else have verbal diarrhea when meeting new people? I should have just blamed jet lag, but that would have be another lie.

Ningaloo and Margaret River

Hi All! It's been a few days...my apologies for that. We haven't really had much access to the internet lately.

Since I last wrote, we've been on a wild winery outing down in Margaret River in southeastern Australia. We went on a great, but a bit out there wine and beer tour and then followed it up by going off-roading the next day thanks to our navigational system. Our Tom Tom navigational equipment sent us down a road it swore was paved only to experience a bumpy mud road in our Mitsubishi Lancer rental that was flooded halfway through our 75 kilometer trip down it. We got to see some emus and kangaroos in the wild along with some great scenes of the countryside, but seeing wild kangaroos jump across the road is not exactly what you want to see as the sun drops over the road and you are in a rental car...as opposed to a rental SUV like the rest of the tourists had.

We then headed up north to Exmouth for a few days of diving. We've dove with probably a dozen sharks - white tip reef sharks and a nurse shark - along with more fish than I can mention here all the while hearing whales off in the distance on their annual migration. We finally saw a pod of dolphins up close (from a pier) yesterday on their nightly fishing of travallis. The travallis literally jump out of the water trying to get away from the five dolphins that were circling to round them up. And just the day before we saw a whale breech into the air off into the distance and do a back flop. That is as close as we've gotten so far, though. All and all, it has been a great time here. We head out tomorrow morning to hopefully swim with dolphins in the wild tomorrow at Monkey Mia before heading to Perth to fly home. It is going to be sad to leave this country!