Another country, another place, more friends

One of the most satisfying aspects of our life in Europe has been the travel. Sometimes we try to make a list of countries we haven't visited. The first Christmas in 1968 we packed up the light blue Volkswagen station wagon and drove to Spain. That summer, we made the first of the many car trips through Europe to Agia Trias, our favorite village in Greece. The road went on highways in Germany until the first overnight stop in Austria. Then, the real adventure would start as we drove over the Loibel Pass (14% grade!) into Yugoslavia. The drive was lovely and the mountains were spectacular. At the top of the pass, the border guards changed from well dressed and efficient Austrians into unshaven, sloppily dressed Yugoslavians. They were surly and not very friendly. In the early days, they would take our passports and write all the details by hand in a huge book. Then we would drive down the mountain for the 2,536 kilometer "highway" to the Greek border. We tried to do it in one go, but usually ended up stopping for the night in Llubliana, Zagreb, Slavonski Brod, Beograd, Nis, and finally, the armpit of the country: Titov Veles. Years later, we were able to make the trip in one day and a half. Our longest trip was from The Hague all the way to Shiraz in Iran. On that trip, our VW threw a piston in Slavonski Brod and we took the train home. The car was delivered to our front door by the Dutch Automobile Association, and it only cost us Dfl. 25, the parking costs in Yugoslavia. We used to drive to Warsaw through East Germany and once tried to make it as far north as we could to see the longest day in Sweden. But, the mosquitos were so huge that we turned around in Gavle and headed for home. We have never been in Portugal or Finland, and will have to wait until we get very old to see them. This photo is of Judy and our friends in Bulgaria in a mountain restaurant outside of Sofia. So, tick off that country.

Judy and her favorite cat: Bikki

18 years ago, friends moved from to England and didn't want to have to put their cats into six months quaranteen. We were catless and took the two cats: black Mr. Gentleman Hoover and wild kooky Bikki. Hoover died at age 17 and Bikki became the cat of the house. She had a wonderful personality, very sweet and funny. In fact, she insisted on lying on the kitchen table and I built a little fenced in "room" for her with BIKKI written on it. She would lie there peacefully until someone got their hand a bit too close and then, boom, she would bat out and give a little scratch. We would box with her in the "yard" which she defended like a champion.
After we moved to the Cornerhouse, Bikki and Hoover became house bound cats and when Hoover died, Bikki took over. There was no stopping her. She would climb into our clothing cabinet by pushing open the door(how I don't know) and knocking everything on the ground as she jumped to the highest shelf. Some mornings, when I reached in for a sweater for school, Bikki would be hiding behind the sweaters and I would get the shock of my life, when she would go into attack mode and lash out at my hand. Bikki and Judy had a special relationship as you can see by the photo. Finally, at age 18, we had to put Bikki to sleep and have been catless ever since.

Kitchen tiles in The Hague apartment

When we moved into The Cornerhouse apartments in 1999, we installed a brand new kitchen. We chose a light cream colored tile for the walls. Our friend, Huibert van Dorp, said that he'd like the chance to paint a few just as decoration to be added at random. We gave him 10 tiles, but a week later, he asked for a complete box of 80 tiles. He returned a few days later with all the tiles painted. We had given him a cardboard box with English language paperback books and he had just picked some out at random and found interesting quotes. I suppose an artist, especially one who loves words like Huibert, has a sort of instinct to find important and beautiful words just by scanning a text. So Huibert copied 20 or so paragraphs from the books and painted the other tiles in a sort of illustration of the texts. When the tile setter arrived, Judy laid out the tiles on the floor and asked him to keep them in the "correct" order. We went to lunch and shopping. When we got back, the tiles had been attached, but in another order. The tile setter had just made decisions based on his personal opinion as to what looked good. Nothing to do except say, "Great!" In fact, Huibert loved it because of the element of chance involved. Here is the text from a tile: "It was a prison even to him now, not a happy hunting ground of science. And the river knew better than they did. On the morning of August 27 it swung south, and since the dip of the beds was to the north, they rapidly ran into lower and lower formations. If it kept up this way they would be back in the granite. By nine o'clock they saw the dreaded rock, brown here instead of black, but unmistakable, rising up from the shore line."
Not all the tiles are serious though. One is a shopping list from the butcher: Poulet, gehakt, ham, pekelvlees, salami, boerenmetworst, sausijsjes, slavinken, sudderlappen, chocoladevla, karnemelk, slagroom, boter, boerengatenkaas, ossestaartsoep. Another is a list of the kinds of cakes in a bakery: Mocca, hazelnoot, swark, vlaai, advokaat, kerson, appeltaart, cocoskoek. One shows a large cocoon, titled: Chrysalis Humongus. And, the funniest one is a tile which he, by accident, painted upside down. It is labelled: Upsidedown Pig.
You can see the butcher tile on the bottom right in the photograph.
Luckily, the new owner of our flat, LOVES the tiles and is going to keep them.

Sweelinkplein in The Hague

This is the corner of the Sweelinkplein and the Reinkenstraat in our neighborhood in The Hague. What is interesting here is that the building frontages are protected monuments and may not be changed in any way. The neighborhood has changed of course, but now there are doctors' offices on the ground floor in places but still family homes in most of the buildings. The building directlyon the corner houses a doctors' office on the ground floor but the second story is a sports school and where I work out every morning. Typically for modern Holland, there is a Polish nurse who is the daily trainer. The top two floors are for a group of physical therapists. An interesting story is that the recent Dutch Paul Verhoeven movie about the war years in The Hague was filmed on the street in front of this building. Any modern looking features were covered up, including painting the white lines in the parking bay a bricky reddish black. Doorways were changed, street lights were "oldenized" and original street hardware like posters and round message towers were brought in. One of our friends, Wilbert van Dorp, is the owner of a set building company, and his team built up the street scene. I would run out of the gym and chat with him. A funny ending to this story is that at the Dutch Oscars ceremony in Amsterdam, Wilbert got into an argument with the main producer who had never paid his company, so Wilbert couldn't pay his staff without dipping into cash reserves. The argument developed slowly into a loud discussion and finally erupted into a fist fight right in the middle of all the fancy folks.

You can also see the red mailboxes on the side of the building. Mail here is picked up five days a week and so the local companies and families have a local and secure mailing point. During New Year's, when the Dutch explode millions and millions of fireworks, the slots in the mailbox are covered so that only single letters can be mailed, and not fire crackers.

Jan from Mirasa Restaurant

This is Jan, the owner of the Mirasa Indonesian Restaurant on the Reinkenstraat. His is a great story: born in The Hague and decided at a young age to go to Indonesia to learn self-defense techniques. He fell in love and married and returned to The Hage where he opened the restaurant. His wife was the cook and his two children helped waiting on tables. His son, Michael, is now a policeman in the city. Sadly, Jan's wife died. There is a Bhuddist shrine in her honor which you can see over Jan's shoulder above the doorway. He remarried Fanny, who is now the cook, and the restaurant is a going business. Jan is full of life and a great host and Fanny is an outstanding cook of rijstafel and other Indonesian specialties. Jan has kept the family atmosphere and the natural home cooking and so when we want to impress friends or just have a good meal, we head off to Mirasa. At the end of the meal, we go into the kitchen and give Fanny a hug. Mirasa has been one of our regular eateries and Jan is a fixture in our lives. He told us that we "aren't allowed to move to Miami."

Faisa, her father and Judy

Here is Mohammed, as a father. We have known him since he was a little boy almost 35 years ago. His father ran a market stall in the city market, and we would buy spearmint, peppers, olives and Moroccan cheese from him. Slowly, during the years, Mo has become the big boss and he runs the stall now with his son and daughter, Faisa. We see them every single Saturday morning when we shop and now he has zucchini, grapes, artichokes and dates added to the assortment. There is a standing joke with him and his family that he can't add fast and every time he has to add up the bill, they begin to laugh, he begins to laugh, and finally, after a moment or two, he says something. Judy asks, "Have you added in everything we bought?" He checks again and there are more laughs and then he says yes and we pay. He is always smiling and shy and friendly and so are his children. Anyway, Faisa was given our little VW Polo as a gift from her dad and so the American-Moroccan-Hague link was strengthened.

Tsvetana and Ivan in Sofia, Bulgaria

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Tsvetana and Ivan in Sofia, Bulgaria

Our last months in The Netherlands have been fun. Not only did we spend a lovely three weeks in Greece, but we were invited for a four day visit to Sofia, Bulgaria as guests of Tsvetana and Ivan Kamenova. This is them at the train station in Sofia as we left to return to Thessaloniki. We traveled first class on a brand new train in a private compartment, even air conditioned. The trip lasted five hours and cost Euro 17! Ivan is a painter and teacher in the National Art Academy. He has illustrated many children's books and now concentrates on his painting. Tsvetana is a professor of law and they were fantastic hosts for us. In fact, we were not allowed to spend even one penny for the whole days we were there. We stayed in their house 10 kilometers outside the city, on a hilltop overlooking the city. After another bottle of wine, I think we promised to be their hosts in Miami, but I am certain we swore to visit them again.

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