I don’t really have much to say, but Andy comes home TOMORROW!!! and then we’re going to America on FRIDAYYYYY!!! and I’ll tell ya what - I am READDY for a break. I’m a little maxed out. Maxed out on work, maxed out on waking up early, maxed out on - well - that’s about it really. But still - maxed out.

For those who don’t know, we’re bringing the kitties back with us when we come home, so I have been busily running around acquiring kitty things. I THINK we’re ready for them, and the McNeils have gone absolutely bonkers trying to get all of their paperwork together, so hopefully everything will work out ok. We’ll see. I do miss them. . .

Anyway we’ll have email and internet access in the states, so don’t worry blog readers - we won’t disappear altogether. I have to go clean the bathroom and vacuum now. YIPPEE!

Well, this weekend I’m alone in Amsterdam. I’m having some hotel problems. Before I elaborate, I’ll give some background info first. My trip here was arranged with short notice. So short that my company had trouble finding a hotel that could accommodate me for my entire stay. As a result I am staying in the fabulous-ly shabby Y Boulevard.

The Y Boulevard was a hostel that was recently purchased. The new owner has converted it into a hotel, almost. There are some details that have yet to be addressed. For example several of the balusters are missing from the handrail on the side staircase (the one that happens to lead to my room). When I put my hand on it the first night I noticed that without balusters the railing is not very sturdy. I decided to take my hand off and lean against the wall instead. In the room there is no clock, iron, or phone. To make sure I get up on time I use the alarm clock function on the TV. I wake up to Dutch cartoons every morning. I am now aware, however, that the hotel does give wakeup calls. “Knock, Knock, Mrs. Johnson, its 6:30 this is your wake up call” (the walls are thin).

So Thursday night at about 9:30 the radiator in my room starts to make a loud screeching noise. After about 15 minutes, I decide to go down to the front desk (I can’t call – no phone). On my way I notice a man banging on the radiator in the “restaurant” (which is directly below my room). I tell him that mine is making the same noise. So he came to my room and banged on my for a while, Then went upstairs a banged on that one for a while, after about 30 more minutes he managed to get them to stop. The guy then came up with a glass of orange juice as compensation for the disruption to my evening. I didn’t really want it, but I drank it anyway. Later I came to the conclusion that he probably fixed it by closing a valve because my room was freezing in the morning.

Friday night the same noise again. At 1:00am this time. After 10 minutes I put on clothing and I went down to complain. It stopped after 10 more minutes. No orange juice this time and it was cold the next morning.

Saturday Evening, I return to a room that is hot and steamy, much like a sauna. The carpet is soaked (it splashed with every step), the chair by the window is soaked, half my clothing is soaked. I complain to the front desk, and they called a repair man and start sopping up the carpet. In the meantime, they give me a large beer to go with my take out Chinese (from Ralph’s Asian Wonderfood), send my clothing to be cleaned and offer me a free meal for Sunday. After the radiator is fixed, they explain that they can’t change my room, because they are completely booked (including room with about 20 bunks still remaining from the hostel days), so they put down towels down to cover the still damp carpet. Today when I return the carpet should have been cleaned and my clothing should be ready, and I should have a free meal. We’ll see how that goes.

Outside of the hotel, I’ve done a lot this weekend. Yesterday I went to the NEMO (Science museum). It’s a Renzo Piano building that sticks out into the water, is shaped like the bow of a boat, and sits on top of a tunnel entrance. The museum was neat, they had an exhibit about building structures. There were models of building frames to which you could add diagonal bracing and a core, and test for deflection from wind loading. Lateral systems 101! There were also bubble machines very similar to ones my dad and his friend made for the children’s corner at the Baum Craft show many years ago. And lot’s of other neat stuff that I won’t bore you with…

After NEMO, I went to the SMCS, which is the temporary location of the Stedelijk Museum during renovations. It’s in an old post office building near the train station. It’s similar to Moma Queens for you New Yorkers. I finished my day at a coffee shop that doesn’t have free wifi, but as the barista put it, “sometimes you can get a signal from the person living up stairs.” There were 7 people in the café with laptops.

Today I went to the Concert Brouw. If you have a ticket to the Sunday morning concert you can pay 4€ extra for a tour before the performance. I didn’t understand most of the tour because it was in Dutch, but I had a tour friend that translated the most interesting bits for me. The tour guide seemed boring anyway. The highlights included going above the Hall where all the winches and equipment are for the rigging. You could look through the holes in the floor to the concert hall. We also went down to the performers’ area in the basement where the orchestra was preparing for the concert. As we entered the cafeteria there was some witty banter between the performers, the tour guide and some of my fellow tour mates. I didn’t understand the actual words, but I understood the wittiness. Okay maybe I just acted like I understood the wittiness.

When I bought my ticket to the concert they told me it was an obstructed view. What they meant was, “you’ll be sitting in the cello section”. I was in the front row staring at the shoes of a cellist. There were cellists to the left and cellists to the right. I could make out a viola or two behind the cellos and could see the conductor’s arms when they were above his head, but that’s about it. From the lengthy applause, I was able to determine that the rest of the audience heard an excellent performance of a horn concerto. I however heard a marvelous cello solo with horn accompaniment. During the standing ovation I found myself face to face with a cellist. I said to her “You were very good. I couldn’t really hear anyone else, but you were excellent.” She laughed and said “dank u.”

I decided that you can’t come to Holland and not go to see a windmill, so after the concert I went off to track down the only remaining windmill in Amsterdam. Now I find myself back at the coffee house without free wifi, posting to the blog.

I’ve posted pictures from this weekend.

And pictures from a farm/petting zoo near my office.

There’s nothing like climbing into a warm, cozy bed with freshly cleaned sheets, and I happen to have one waiting for me, so this will be quick. (side note - when Andy’s away, I use a hot water bottle to warm up the bed - I highly recommend it)

Today is the day I started to feel Christmassy. I did a bit of Christmas shopping today, and there were so many people out shopping; that’s what started it. There were also people buying Christmas trees, there was a brass quartet playing carols on the sidewalk to raise money for the Salvation Army, and the weather was just lovely - crisp and cold, but bright and sunny. Ahhhh. . . . I love Christmas time.

I joined Mark & Caton for some mulled wine and a few cookies, and then we shared a yummy meal at the pub nearby. Everything is so cozy and warm and smelling of ginger and cinnamon. I just can’t wait for Andy to get home to share this wonderful time with me, and I also can’t wait to go back to the States on Friday!!! I haven’t been this excited about Christmas since I was about 12 or so. I haven’t seen most of the fam and friends since about April - my nieces are probably twice the height they were last time I saw them. I can’t WAIT!

Anyway, perhaps not as exciting for anyone else than it is for me, but there we are.

Incidentally, something in our flat beeps every night at midnight. I have no idea what it is and if I’m awake when it happens, it bugs me. I go over and take a quick look but don’t see it, and then I decide to look for it another time. Then I forget, and life goes on as such interminably. Any ideas about the beep? It seems to be coming from the corner in our kitchen that contains (mostly in cabinets) our tools, wine, olive oil, makeup bags filled with medicine and rarely used toiletries (i.e. nail polish), and our tupperware. OK Go.

Andy posted some pictures of our weekend in Amsterdam. Check ‘em out!

So Andy reminded me about what I left off about Sunday’s adventures - the Player Piano Museum!! It’s probably for the best though, because it deserves its own post.

We showed up at the museum (which we read about in our guide book), and the door was closed. We had to ring the bell, and a little Dutch man (well a tall, skinny old Dutch man with glasses, to be precise) came to the door, looked at us confusedly for a moment, and said, “You like to visit the museum?” “Yes, we would.” So we went in, paid our 5 euro, and shortly discovered that it would be 5 euro well spent. There were three other tourists there, who were together, and the museum was in two rooms. The little man talked us through the history of player pianos from beginning to end, supplemented with various performances! The first Pianolas were big machines that ran on suction. They wheeled up to the front of a normal piano and played the notes for you, but someone still had to sit there and regulate tempo, pedal, and dynamics with pedals and knobs and things. He did this for us, and it was astounding.

Then he showed us the next player piano, which was similarly operated, but from within the piano itself. He explained all about the folks who bought them, what life was like at that time, the place the player piano played in their social lives, etc., as well as the technical aspects of the pianos’ development - how the pianos work, how the music scrolls were produced, how many different pieces were produced as scrolls, how many they have at the museum (over 20,000), where the scrolls are now, where you can get them now, etc. He explained that there is one company that still makes them, and one can therefore acquire modern music as well as the traditional, classical works. He put a scoll in to play for us, and we expected Billy Joel or Elton John, or perhaps even something more recent - Norah Jones, maybe? Nope - At Last. He played At Last. Great song, of course, but it just made us giggle a bit after the emphasis he placed on how modern some of the pieces can be.

There were four demonstrations in total, but he played more than one piece on each of them, and he even took requests. One thing I did not know is that the companies who sold the scrolls actually paid famous virtuoso pianists and even composers to record their performances onto these scrolls. (Little man didn’t know how the recording worked - he said all of the recording machines were lost during the Great Depression) SO, one can actually here how Prokofiev wanted his pieces to be played, or how Horowitz played Mozart. That, to me, is amazing. Watching this piano play a piece exactly how Prokofiev himself played it 100 years ago was an experience unlike anything I had ever imagined. Wow.

So anyway, if you’re in Amsterdam, you should go say hi to the little man and check out the player piano museum - it rocks.

Quick note:
Party was excellent. ZERO good gossip, unfortunately, but I won an award for being so awesome. About 12 people won it, and the 6 remaining members of my department were among them, and we actually won together for being an awesome department, but still - very cool to be recognised.

Anti-American slurs overheard so far this week:
- (Looking at photos of a recent wedding in America) “Well, you know how Americans are - just look at them - how do they get so fat? They are SOOOO fat.”
- (Talking about the number of English people getting plastic surgery as their Christmas gifts) “Soon we’ll all be walking around with massive plastic surgery and have fake everything like the Americans.”

That’s Dutch for blubbering idiot, which was me in Schiphol airport in Amsterdam on Sunday night. Shall we backtrack? Oh that’s right, you have no say. Well then, let’s.

Amsterdam was GREAT. It is such a beautiful city that, even in the chilly cloudiness of winter, we had a lovely time walking around and exploring all of its many - ahem - virtues. Don’t worry - no “we don’t serve alcohol/over 18 only” coffee shops here, but we did have to swing on by the red light district and check out those mostly naked ladies. One word: weird. These ladies dance around and jiggle a bit, and they make pouty faces and strut and smile at boys while just standing in the window there. We only saw one person actually talk to one of them, but we only walked by there in early evening time, so that might be why.

On Saturday, we went to Anne Frank’s house, which was amazing. It seemed to me that her father still owned the property after the war, so it has been preserved from day one, including the pictures she hung on the walls and her little boyfriend’s board game. It was quite sad, but it’s important to remember her legacy and everything she did to teach us about life at that time.

After Anne Frank’s house, we checked out the Van Gogh museum, which was CROWDED but very interesting. I don’t know that I have ever seen such a thorough exhibit on one artist. The paintings were arranged chronologically, so the changes in his style and improvements in skill are readily apparent. I learned that Van Gogh just up and decided to be an artist when he was 27. SWEET. That means I have a good 5 months to decide what I want to be and I can still become one of my new discipline’s greatest-loved geniuses. Any ideas? If you say media research, you’re going down.

We went back to the hotel for a regroup, and then we went for a lovely meal before the concert! We decided to go to a piano concert at the Concertgebouw, which is the city’s famous concert hall. It was - as I call them - a double-piana concert. That means dos pianos. Sorry - twee pianos (that’s Dutch). It was in the small hall, and it was SOOOO good. Well, I fell asleep once, but that was entertaining, too. Andy gently elbowed me and I gently JUMPED. Then it was over and we thought, “What, no encore?” AND we sat there for a while in disbelief thinking, “Gosh that was short,” and then we saw that nobody left and they were serving cappuccino. INTERMISSION!! AHhaaaahhhh. . . . YAY! So, twee cappuccinos later, we got to enjoy another whole half of concert! AND an encore. It was FAAAABBBbbulous.

Apparently I’m really into putting waaaaaayyyyy too many letters in my words.

On Sunday, we went to the Heineken EXPERIENCE. That’s what they call it. It’s a tour. Well, a tour with free beer. We paid about 10 euro each to get in, and we were force-fed three free beers while we were there. They had one of those ridiculous hydraulic rides (like they have at the mall) that taught us what life is like when one happens to be a beer bottle. I tell ya - it was ROOOUGH. Especially that party at the end. It’s important to remember life from the perspective of a beer bottle. Sorta like Anne Frank. Except lame. On the whole, though, it was a positive experience - I liked the horses the best. They have a crew of horses who ride through the streets of Amsterdam every morning, and we were able to look down on them and say hello.

We had a lovely meal - again - and I think we did something else. But I can’t remember. Yup, I swear there were two things on Sunday.

I must mention something VERY important about Holland. We wanted to have some real Dutch food, so we checked in the guidebook, and it turns out that Holland doesn’t have its own food. It has really good French and Indonesian food (which is a bit Chinese for the purists, according to the guidebook - we turned our noses WAY up at that Chinesey Indonesian food), and other than that they pretty much eat French fries with mayonnaise. BUT, they ALSO put jimmies on their toast. GENIOUS! They have the typical jimmies, but they also have some more gourmet-seeming lovely flakey-type sprinkles. YUMMMMy. And they serve them every day in cute little boxes at Andy’s hotel, so he’s probably stealing some for me right now. If he loves me. xxxx

So, now we get to the blubbering. When we got to the train station, I was sad to leave Andy. I was a little teary as I got onto my train, being careful to pick the right side of the platform - my train was on 13a and so avoidance of 13b was paramount to the success of this operation. Well? Wrong train. The platform across from 13b is 14. 13a is on the other END of the platform - same side. How can you have TWO trains on the SAME track on the SAME side of the platform?! Geesh. These Dutch people. Anyway, I didn’t just get on the wrong train a little bit. I got on the wrong train which was conveniently the FAST train to Amersfoort, which is bloody MILES away from Amsterdam, as I judged based on the fact that it took about 40 minutes to get there on the fast, non-stop train. When the conductor told me that I had the wrong train (Incidentally, I had to ask), I knew right away that making my flight would be a long shot, and I started crying like a big moron. Tears and tears. Also, it was raining ALL afternoon, and something about rain. . . Anyway, then the conductor explained to me how to get back to the airport in the fastest possible way and told me that it would get me there - if everything ran on time - about 20 minutes before my flight was due to leave.

You never know, so I pulled it together and tried to watch the towns go by on my hour-long train ride back (this one had stops). I got off the train and ran upstairs - asked someone where the airport was, because the signs being in Dutch suddenly became much more frustrating in my rush - ran toward the airport, asked someone for EasyJet - ran to EasyJet, said breathlessly that I was on flight whatever, and was told, “I’m sorry, it’s closed.” Oh goodness I cried and cried and cried. I said, “You’re sure it’s on time and there’s nothing we can do?” “You can come back at 7:00 tomorrow morning and for 56 euro you can change to flight 2156.” Snivle Snivle. “OK. Do you know where I can use the internet?”

I needed to check my email, because that was the only place I had Andy’s phone number. I tried the phone booth thingy, but it wouldn’t talk to me. Then the lady told me to try the phone booth thingy downstairs. Wouldn’t take my cards. Then I tried the information desk. Still snivvling. By this point, I started battling myself. “Pull it together, T-bone - you are SUCH a target standing here practically holding a sign that says I’M VULNERABLE AND I’M HOLDING MY PASSPORT AND WALLET AND A STOLEN BOX OF CHOCOLATE JIMMIES.” For Lord’s sake, save the jimmies.

So information desk guy told me to go to the Sheritan Hotel, which I did, and use the internet there, which I did. I called Andy and cried and cried and cried. I was just so MAD at myself for getting on the STUPID wrong train. The good news is that I got to spend another night with Andy, AND I actually made that flight in the morning, had an egg McMuffin, because McDonald’s reminds me of home, slept like a baby on the flight, and managed to get to work by about 10:00. My eye sockets were sore until about noon from all the crying and the not sleeping (too nervous about missing the morning flight). That is just silly.

OK now it’s getting late and I would like to go to bed soon - plus you are probably tired of reading or maybe you’re getting in trouble with the W-ster for reading too much blog at work. Brooke.

Tomorrow is the office Christmas party, so expect some gossip next time I write. Supposedly the sales boys always make out with all of the marketing girls. Shoot - we should just film that! Also, this will be the viewing of the film for which I did all of my silly dancing and whatnot. Hmmm. . . .good thing I have a pretty shirt to wear - when I get embarrassed I can say, “Do you like my new top?” and then they’ll stop talking about me being a weirdo.

By the way today is Sherri’s birthday. Sherri was my friend when I was about 4-6 years old and I haven’t seen her since. Why do I remember stuff like that?

As you probably know by now, I am in Amsterdam. A project has brought me here, so I will be working with my company’s Amsterdam office for two weeks. It’s a little lonely, but this past weekend Tiffany came to visit. We had a wonderful time together. I will be posting pictures soon, but I’ll let Tiffany tell you all about the weekend.

I’ve been enjoying my time in the Amsterdam office. They’ve been exposing me to Dutch culture. Today, for example, was Sinterklaasavond, the traditional Dutch gift-giving day when Sinterklaas and his Moorish helpers visit Dutch children to leave a sack of presents. I’m told that it is becoming more common to give gifts on Christmas day, but Sinterklaasavond is still popular among the Dutch youngsters. It isn’t a day off from work, but from what I gather, one would typically get together with family for diner.

According to my guidebook, it is also customary for friends give poems caricaturing each other, so here goes. Ahem…

You are our loyal blog reader.
You come here to practice the skills you gained at a young age.
Whether you learned phonetically or traditionally, you are literate.
You read our stories presumably for entertainment.

Your comments make us happy.
Joy fills us.
We like to hear from you.

Note the complete lack of rhyme and rhythm. I guess this would be a “free form” poem, or maybe just a “bad” poem. Next time I post a poem I promise I’ll work on it a little more.