Forever Young

Growing up, I pretty much had the perfect childhood. Well not perfect, but very close. I grew up in a beautiful little town called Plymouth, Michigan. People worked hard for what they earned. I was able to walk or ride my bike to town without being afraid. During national holidays like the 4th of July there was always a parade and yes, I decorated my bike and rode along with my friends beaming with pride of being an American. I enjoyed concerts in the park, playing in the lakes, and ice cream at the Dairy King, sledding and tobogganing down wintery hills, skating on ponds and yes going to school. I may have been young but I was not naive. I watched as my sister cried when her new husband left for Viet Nam and thankfully came home to us. I had grown up in a home where the men all served their country and did it with pride. For that I will forever be grateful. Not only to the beautiful men in my family but to the thousands and thousands who left their families to go help others who were in need.

Since moving to Europe, many places to visit and see have been added to my bucket list. But I knew without a doubt, one place would be very dear to me. I went not only for myself, not only for the brave men in my family who fought in many wars in foreign countries, but also for everyone who lost their lives to keep the rest of us safe. I wanted to see Normandy, France and pay my respect to the wonderful people of the United States who fought in a horrible battle in order to free the world from a horrific terror.

We drove from Eindhoven to a little village in France called Villerville. Through rolling farm lands as beautiful as I’ve ever seen. Past little villages that run along the Northern France border that runs along the English Channel. The weather was foggy and a little chilly but I couldn’t help but smile at the beauty surrounding me. The little villages like Honfleur, Villerville and Trouville all were near our little bed and breakfast where we stayed. Each with cobblestone streets, tiny little taverns, beautiful churches and stone walls carved into the history that had no plans of going anywhere, anytime soon. It’s like time has stood still in these little villages.

We drove about an hour and a half from our B&B to Normandy. The fog lifting ever so lightly so that we could get a glimpse of the past. Along the rocky cliffs you can still see concrete bunkers and mounds carved into the scenery that the Germans had made ready to attack our poor boys as they hit the beach. Some never even made it off the boats. But I bet those Germans were scared as they laid in wait for us and saw thousands of boats ready to come ashore.

But, like the statue that over looks the headstones, the American youth rose out of the waves of the water and marched on to victory. Thousands of men died that day on the beaches of Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword. To the men who will be forever young, thank you so much for not only liberating people around the world but for sacrificing your life for our freedom. This American Girl is truly grateful.

Lampegat

Apparently, I live in Lampegat now. At least that’s what I’m told. During the wonderful few days before Lent, people in Southern Holland celebrate Carnaval. Most of the people to the North are protestant and most of the people to the South are Catholic. Carnaval is Catholic celebration very similar to Mardi gras. I’ve never been to New Orleans, but I hear it’s pretty wild. Well, this is too!

All the towns during Carnaval take on different names. Eindhoven becomes Lampegat. This means Light Bulb Hole and references the history of the light bulb here in Lampegat. I decided I needed to fully embrace this tradition and find out all that it is about.

Well, just stepping out the door and going to the market in the preceding days I knew that costumes were a must. Ok, not a must but I knew I was going to fully participate. I headed to Stiphout to a fabric store that had thousands of costumes for sale and plenty of accessories to add to anything.

Costumes on, we headed to the Centrum to see the parade. The parade began at 13:11pm. 11 is the crazy number so that’s when things begin and end during Carnaval. The most endearing part of the parade was the fact that you could tell the floats were homemade or I guess not mass produced. The themes were a mystery to me but the looks on the adorable Dutch children’s faces let me know that these were beloved characters to them. With music blaring and people singing all the words (in Dutch) my friends and I decided to join in and make up our own words. Yes, the beer had already begun to flow. Vendors were set up all over selling anything from waffles, beer, meats, fruits, to carnival attire.

After watching the parade for a while we decided to head further into the Centrum and participate in the Pub Crawl. Huge tents were set up along the Centrum. Bars had their flaps closed to keep party revelers into their area the longest. We headed to the middle where the largest tent was, hoping for the most room and a little warmth. A merry band was playing all the latest hits (Dutch Style or Oompa Loompa Style). But that was great because by this time, beer in hand, we were fully into being a citizen of Lampegat.

After a while we decided to head to Stratumseind. This is the area where our kids hang out. On the way, I pointed out this little bar I’d wanted to go into. It’s called The Little One Bar. It has such an adorable little door. We decided to go in for a drink. We bellied up to the bar, met the owner and fell in love with this little bar. I asked how old the bar was because it looked older. Only 62 years old. Hmm, that made sense. I had forgotten that most of Lampegat had been destroyed during the war.

After a crazy moment with a person dressed as a shower, we headed for The Tipsy Duck. This fun little bar felt like everyone from the streets all came in at the same time. It was crushing room only. Squeezing through was difficult.

We had a ton of fun there as well but we were all ready for the partying to be done. I don’t know how these people can go on and on into the night. Back home by 6pm with my jammies on, I was so happy I had survived my first Carnaval experience. Definitely going to do that again! Just not today! This party goes on till Wednesday when Lent begins. I’m thinking I may give up beer for LentJ

We’ve Come a Long Way Baby

Once a month, I take the trek to Nuenen. This little village is about 20 minutes from my home. I drive out of Eindhoven and then along a little winding road to my friend Carrie’s. Nuenen was also home to Vincent Van Gogh. There’s a little museum in town that tells about Vincent’s life and what led him to fame as a wonderful impressionist artist. The funniest thing I learned there was that his mother sent him a letter begging him to move back home and give up his prostitute girlfriend. He eventually does but always likes to do things his own way. I find his work absolutely wonderful.

Carrie is teaching an art appreciation class called For Art’s Sake. She has many years of teaching experience and she really has a gift for sharing her passion. We talk and learn about different time periods, mediums, styles and artists. This past month we focused solely on women artists. I learned that many times women didn’t sign their art work because it was not accepted for a woman to be an artist. A lot of the women learned how to paint in the studio from their fathers. But after a female artist would finish an unsigned painting, men would find it and sign their names. It’s just recently that their works of art are being recognized as their own.

Recently, Carrie and I have decided to paint. She of course is wonderful and I was an art major in college for 1 year. This was only because it sounded easy. Boy was I wrong. But anyway, we have ventured into painting. It’s a wonderful way to relax and enjoy the beautiful surroundings. Enjoying art while living in Europe, absolutely!

Off the Beaten Path

One of the wonderful things about getting to move to another country is the opportunity to step out of the touristy areas. Trust me, I’m all about the Eiffel Tower and I can’t wait to see Big Ben, but who would have ever thought I would be walking down country paths in Holland.  

As part of the International women’s group I joined, there are many different activities a person can join. I have many favorites but I’ll start with my walking group. Just a group of women who all enjoy a nice walk outside in most any weather, looking at the beautiful sights around them. Led by our fearless leader, Wendy, we all set out with coats, mittens, hats and scarves ready to see the beauty of this wonderful country. We choose a different location every time and always end with a nice lunch together. Sometimes, even a little shopping comes into play after that. During the nice weather months, dogs of all shapes and sizes join in the fun. They even enjoy a lunch or water bowl out as well.

I really enjoy getting to know the other women better and also enjoy getting to see so many places I normally would not travel to. There are so many different walking trails in Holland or even just city streets to walk up and down looking through windows of shops. I guess if you’re putting one foot in front of the other, you are at least out there enjoying life to the fullest potential.

Excuse me…. Sir?

Dining in Europe compared to America is almost comical. We’ve all heard the stories about dinning out and to expect a long meal. Long? How about 3 hours or more in some cases.  First of all, rarely can you find a drive through restaurant. Of course, this is not a bad thing. But it does require a little planning unless you have the time to devote an entire evening to a meal.

I’ve discovered that if I use my favorite word from one of our beloved American Presidents, life is a little easier. Strategery.

When walking into the restaurant make eye contact with the person avoiding you and let them know you would like to sit down AND have a menu. The second is not always a given.

Ask the waitress for bottled water for the table. Yes, we know this will cost extra but we are anticipating being left alone for hours at a time parched and dehydrated. (if you get desperate you can always sneak your glass into the bathroom to fill a glass from the sink. No I’ve never done this, but I hear it’s done.) Oh and if they don’t tell you… blue…. Still water… red… disgusting.

Be prepared to flag the waitress down to take your order. They are paid a normal rate, not like in America. They don’t care if their table turns over. Thus, the reason tipping is so low.

Once your meal is over, be prepared to order dessert or get your game face on to ask for the bill. If you do not, you will literally fall out of your chair trying to flag them down.

Tipping. I’ve heard so many different policies from people. Get the bill and round up to the next Euro. Get the bill and tip 10% but that is it! Tip? What’s a tip? For me this was a learning process. The first time I tipped, I had had a 5E pizza and left the waitress the change. I figured out later this was somewhere around 7E. I didn’t realize some of those coins were 1’s and 2E a piece. One time, I tipped 20% and the waiter told me it was way too much and made me take some money back. I now tip 10-15% if the service is ok. I still tip 20% for great service. Some American habits are hard to break.

It may be a long and exhausting time out for dinner but who the heck cares! You’re dinning in Europe!