East, West....Home

We  returned from July's China adventure a little over a week ago. It is a misery to try and publish blogs through the Great Firewall, I will try to remedy the lack of entries sometime.  A summary: It was wonderful to be in China again. I found a new luscious dried fruit tea. I rode a camel. I had few hours of really good sleep. Mattresses even in high end hotels are like bricks. Our test if we can go it alone in China while in Beijing was a mixed success. We need to take a basic course in Mandarin. We still haven't figured out how to contact the church community.  We ate too much. We walked the skin off our feet. We visited places where few Western faces have ever been seen. We survived the challenge.  In other places we were hosted generously.  We saw amazing things; we traveled overnight on a train. We saw 1000 years of Buddhist art tucked into mountain grottoes.  We saw the edge of the Gobi.  We got upgraded to business on the way home and had possibly the worst food and beverage service ever suffered.  Himself had a royally wonderful time science wise and is all fired up about Sabbatical planning.

Since I finished every last bit of the washing and ironing yesterday, and had a wonderful trim found in Beijing for next to nothing that was asking for a linen to go with it, I bused in to Amersfoort to the market as a little treat for myself today.  Amersfoort has a rather good number of fabric and notion merchants on Friday morning.  For once the sky was clear, the sun was out, it was dry, not too cold, so I packed my little shopping cart on  wheels and set off.

I love walking Amersfoort. It is an ancient walled town that has enjoyed the bustle of trade by water for centuries- though I don't know if it was on the Hanseatic route.  It still has canals and walls and robust number of preserved ancient buildings to delight me.

But it was when I passed through the shadowed pathway to the market square that I realized again how I appreciated my adopted country and it's lifestyle.  The bells were telling the hour from the churches nearby, and the carillon from the city hall added more music.  Rainbow flags were in abundance because it's that week again,  and the coffee and tea establishments were busy; the outside tables were full of folks enjoying the first decent day we have had for a while.

The fruit and veg stall-keepers were vying with one another; their bellows competing with the belfries.  Flocks of customers lined up for fresh fruit, veg, bread, and cheese  at one section of the market square,  others crowded through the clothing stalls looking for a bargain.  Still others rummaged the fabric stalls for just the right bit of stuff.

Into this bustling cacophony went I gladly.
So interesting, so Dutch, so....home.

And Away We Go Fourth of July 2015

Someone asked me what I was doing to celebrate the Fourth of July. My answer:  "flying to China. "  And so it was.
Preparing for this departure was different in that I was so organized that we did not have last minute meltdowns, although it was so blasted hot in Cheeseland the last week, I did have my moments where I thought the weather would win.  The biggest challenge, because we will be traveling internally on smaller airlines, trains and cars, was packing small.  We packed about 4 kilos of food, water purifiers, hot water kit,  extra medicines and heath care needs none the less.  We are going to be in places where we have no idea what is available, nor if we can communicate adequately.   On the other hand, most of the time, we will be in the academic community, so our needs are all arranged for us....but we plan for contingencies.
Jade House will have caretakers in and out. We locked, barred, cleaned and cleared our way out the door. I just have to trust the gods to protect our place from evil, but there is a new hasp lock on the car port just in case. I see a day where we actually have a full security system, especially if the plans for a new housing community goes forward across the street.  Summer holidays in Cheeseland is when the burglars strike.
Saturday morning Himself took the last load to the dump and fetched the Boy at the station. Boy was our driver to the airport. We even left early- the Tour de France and the heat affected traffic patterns so we erred on the side of caution. As it would happen nothing awful happened, and we were in the KLM Lounge with hours to kill.
The Schiphol lounge is comfy, quiet, and allows Himself to work uninterrupted,  Also has decent free food.
We chose fancy economy to fly out, which seat had a laarge empty space in front of me, so I could stack my bag with a pillow to stretch my legs.  I was happy, alhough 10 hours in an airplane is one long flight.
Our layover was in Hangzhou airport. By this time, the time difference was kicking in.  We both were looking forward to a little food and a comfy place to wait for the next leg of the journey. UGH.  Let's just say the toilets were clean and the seaing had padding.  Not in the top 10 gold class flyer's lounges of the world.  Then the plane was delayed an hour.
We finally got in the air, had a miserable meal, and dozed our way to Changchun airport where we found one bag had been fairly squashed (but luckily it just looked bad.)  We easily found the student greeters' big sign welcoming Himself to the conference and were loaded into a new smelling car to be ferried to the Sheraton.  The driver got a little lost but we finally arrived to be greeted by more student hosts.  At this point we were gone from home 24 hours.  We really thought we would unpack, have a wash, ( and I was hoping room service in jammies) and a good sleep.
Our good hosts though, had planned a dinner.  Starting at that moment.  We had not even seen our room!
They gave us 10 minutes.  We tore upstairs,  tipped the porter,  checked the battered suitcase innards, opened the other, rummaged for a clean dress,  used the loo. freed my feet from the compression stockings, applied lipstick and flew back downstairs.
Dinner was actually very nice and quite laid back from the usual too much food affair we expereinced in Beijing.  No watermelon!!  In fact, after we ate, the hostess suggested we go on up so we could gracefully retire while everyone else visited after dinner.
We unpacked, and Himself went off to the pool and sauna while i took a bubblebath and soaked.  I was never so glad to see my jammies.
My firt impression of Changchun is billboards. Everywhere.  Tree lined boulevards. Big fancy housing development behind fences,  and the miles on miles of high rise apartments.  In other words, welcome to modern China.
Happy 4th of July.

A collection of impressions and notes on Saturday and Sunday

Saturday was affected by arriving in the wee hours and not getting enough sleep.  Himself managed to get out for a couple of walks while I shook out clothes, steamed his suit, and stowed our belongings in a convenient way.  I don't mind setting up house in a hotel for long stays.  Ironing out the quirks of the room takes doing, for instance, one has to figure out the electricity in this place and what switch does what, where the best light is...oh man, lighting in hotel rooms....Although this hotel is really very fine and goes against all the warnings in the travel guides, we were not glad to see that the pool and sauna are under renovation: Himself could have used some steam bath and swimming.  I wish hotels would tell you before you arrive.

And this hotel does not have clothes drawers.  Six desk  drawers, narrow and shallow, and two lingerie drawers in the closet;  so undies sit in one suitcase, personal gear in the other.  Boy, am I happy I bring extra hangers. But it's a workable accommodation. There's a restaurant open all day as well....

When He was ready to take walk number three, I went too. Next door is a sari emporium.  We took a look. Two floors of the rainbow fairy's cavern of delights.  I wish I was brave enough to ask to have one draped on me just to see.  Goodness me, the fabrics and colors and sparkly bits are just enchanting.  On our walk, we found a grocery and bought water and fresh ginger for my already suffering tummy.
We like grocery stores in other lands. It is interesting to see how alike/not alike the shelves are.  As small as this emporium was, it had a wide variety of items; the British influence is still apparent.

The heat started to affect us so we toddled back to our room, stowed water, rested some, and had dinner with our student who had arrived Saturday afternoon fresh from a 40 hour train trip from up north. He's been in land for two weeks "doing" India all by himself.  Brave kid.

Our coughs and congestion made sleeping unusually poor that night.

Sunday we went to church. We found there are more than one units in Bangalore. One is just 5KM away in Richmond Town district.  It's a big building with CES offices and Family History facilities. And amazingly, completely in English.  Huh. Lots of younger men and women.  I was not aware of many children, but on our way out we peeked into a children's class busy singing away, so there are families. The chairs are a misery so we did not stay the entire block of meetings...two days of poor sleeping takes its toll.  The women wear traditional dress and look so vibrant compared to what I am used to. The colors! The sparkly bits!  No two saris or shalwaars are the same.  Just multiply that by a couple million and think of the textile genius it takes to make so many splendid combinations. it boggles my mind.  A feast for the eyes.

Our conference host provided us with a car and driver for the day, which is wonderful, but the poor driver had nothing to do for long periods of time.  He, as every driver so far, was excellent in negotiating the traffic. It defies description. No apparent rules or lanes. constant tooting.  It takes nerves of steel. And I hear that the Bangalore traffic is nothing compared to other places.

In fact, Bangalore, they say, is much different than other cities. Cleaner, less crowded, traffic less chaotic (???), less smelly.  Huh.  I guess it is a good introduction for folk like me.

Because we had a couple of hours, we asked to be driven to a local market.  No tourists.  It was grand.  Saw fruit and veg I have never seen but read about in books. We were offered jackfruit, which He tasted, but after I saw the bugs, I declined.  The babies are so cute.  We found a fabric store which had pre selected lengths in a pack for the making of shalwaar:  top , pant, wrap.  Again, no two alike.  Since I would never wear some of the combinations in staid  Netherlands, it took a little convincing but the man found some neutral combinations of which we chose two.  I see some nice tropical weight two piece outfits with wrap for the summer in China....not Indian style though.

Sunday night we were expected at the University for registration and dinner.   It was disorganized, chaotic, boring, long and time wasting.  I had my knitting and my book.   am always prepared.

I finished this entry Tuesday morning.  Monday deserves its own post.

The rest of the Outbound Journey

Charles de Gaulle airport is one we love to not like. One disembarks and runs up and down escalators just to arrive at a jitny bus which drives a slow serpentine path to another entrance. More escalators and long walks through immigration (to leave the EU) and finally to departures.  The priority lounge at CDG is lovely.   Quiet.  Restful. On to Bengaluru.

When the time came to cue for the departure gate, Indian style procedures prevailed.  The longest priority line I have ever seen, and every document and visa was examined. It took ages.
However, everyone managed to get on board (as opposed to the unfortunate no-shows off loaded from the first flight in the grey Amsterdam morning.)   Off we went for nine hours in the air.

Air France, how you have fallen.  The inflight magazine was one long dull advertisement. The food was embarrassing. If this was the first introduction to Indian food for the novice traveler, it was a shock. Cardboard, nasty, uninspired.  Breakfast was some sort of gucky wrap thing...I used to look forward to Air France flights. The food was so good.

The staff was polite and pleasant; but gave us a black and white photocopy of the customs form instead of a colored original. "This is unacceptable,"says the worker bee with a head bob that made me wonder if he was going to burst into a Bollywood routine.  Thus we had to rewrite our forms...but it seems not one other soul had to; I am  still baffled. Then there was the meat. In cans. From home.

We were honest. Yes we had tuna and ham with us.  a few cans.  So we went to the Declarations. and waited. and waited. and waited.  Remember it is 1:30 in the morning. we waited some more.The single clerk  was busy in a molasses sort of way over a boxed LCD screen.  We had our little bag of eats all ready.  Finally, a man without a uniform wandered up and asked if we were waiting. We explained. He took our declaration slips over to a uniformed fella on the other side of the wall,  conversed, and came back to tell us to cheat. To change our forms to nothing to declare and go away. Otherwise the mountain of forms for us to fill out for 4 cans of tuna and one canned ham would keep us there til dawn. We scribbled and left.  But I know in my bones they would have scanned our bags and found the cans if we had been dishonest.  Then all sorts of hellish events transpire.

Our host had arranged a taxi for u. We were, without a doubt,  grateful for not having to fuss with transport at 2 am in a strange land.  We got all loaded in and drove through the night to our hotel. In the dark Bangalore looks like any other city around the airport.  Uninspiring.  Not one OOOO Look!
But maybe we were too travel worn to care.

Smooth registry at our hotel, and a huge comfy bed.  We fell into bed about 4am and set the alarm for breakfast.  Day one is finally ended.

Off we go

Yes, the visas finally came. Our vaccinations are in order.  Yesterday we packed and cleaned. Himself found the travel pillow that was exactly where it should be -and we already bought a replacement.  So now we have two sizes.  That is ok.    Sweetpea came and took the perishables and 40 pounds of other sundries to stock her own larder.  Off we drove at dark o'clock; poor little Fannie May car was surprised to be on the road so early, packed to the gills.

We left car and coats in the care of daughter dear at Schiphol. We discovered only one set of keys made it to the airport so plan B of the return to pick up car had to be implemented.  But everything else is where it needs to be. We are having breakfast in thee Priority Lounge (there is a benefit to all the frequent trips of Himself. )  We have braved one security check.

Now it is time to hike to the gate. First tstop Paris, Charles de Gaulle, one of the less favorite hubs in the world, but there you are.  :)

Incredible India; the first big trip of 2015

For which preparation is fraught with irritation

and Himself gets really cranky

When Himself looked winsome as he suggested I come to India with him in far off February 2015, I looked into those twinkly blue eyes and gave in.  My inner conversation was this:  Yes, it is crowds of people. Yes, it is noisy. Yes, it is overwhelming. Yes, it is hotter than hell.  But yes, it is the right time to go.  I am healthy enough, and if there is  a next time, I might not be.  And he LOVES the place. I love to see him so excited to go, even if the real reason is work.  India, you see,  was not high on my bucket list, if there at all.

So I left him to the planning, which grew to include a trip to this thrilling place:  http://www.junglelodges.com/kabini-river-lodge,  where it is rumored that the tigers are populous in February.  But elephants and all sorts of  wild things we usually see in zoos are there so it promises to be amazing.

He made the reservations for the round trip flight using most of our saved airmiles for my ticket, hotel one, the conference venue, hotel two, the hotel closer to General Electric where he is invited,  the reservations for the safari park....but at this writing, the reservations for hotel three for the last night and day of our stay in Bangalore are still unclear.  But that is nothing.  We may not yet be going.  

Why? You might ask, at this late date, are we not completely sure of departure. In one word, VISA.

I never in my life thought that Indian bureaucracy extended to the green, flat shores of Cheeseland, but boy-howdy, mama, they do. About two weeks ago, we had our passport photos taken to make sure we had light background, 51 by 51 cm photos. Then Himself sat before the computer and spent a couple of hours entering forms and collecting various data, making copies and collating it all for both of us.  He needed a convention visa. Since he has done this before and knew it was a tangled mess, he was able to get his visa info in a tidy, thick stack in a couple of hours.  For my visa, a  simpler tourist request was filled out. Mind you, simple does not mean short. My parents, my life history including education and reason for ever thinking I'd want to visit India included, and that just to visit the country for 10 days.

I promise I am not going to suddenly decide to live there illegally.  I will probably kiss the floor of the airplane on the return leg.

With his schedule so booked, it was a little messy to find a day to drive all the way to Den Haag ( which is a truck filled crazy highway awful drive that I hate with every fibre of my being.)  but Tuesday he carved out some time and we arrived at the Embassy well before the 11:30 closing time. We followed the signs for Visa and Passports down the drive to the basement. Upon entry there was no one manning the window so we sat down to wait.  Minutes dragged by and other patrons appeared; finally someone shouted through the window to see if anyone would respond. A woman issued forth.  We lined up. We approached with our thick stacks in hand only to be informed that the office for visas is around the corner and down the street now...this was not news shared on the website where Himself got the visa information.  ugh.

Leaving the car in a rather illegal parking spot because there just isn't anywhere to park around the embassies, we walked to the visa office and joined the line of supplicants.  The nightmare began.

While it seemed previous experience had netted a good application for Hubby, my application was sadly flawed. The back ground of the photo and my hair are close in color.  It gave the officer some pause, but he finally passed it.  Then, suddenly I needed a conference visa even though I won't be attending any of it. Baffling.  And the worst was the name.  I use ( as many Dutch wives do) a hyphen in my last name.  Family-Maiden. It's normal and cultural.  The software for India visas does not allow for hyphens and eliminates it with no space between the names.  But,  my USA passport uses a carat between the names down in the code line, thus a space needs to be inserted for the name on the visa to match the name in the USA passport.  There was no space between the two last names.  ( Got all that?)  It did not end there. My first name is a double name, like Mary Ann, or Bobbie Jo.  I started putting the two names together, no space, as an adult because helpful folks misspelled my name so often.  Hubby is used to that.  So there was no space between my first names.  It did not match my passport.  On top of all that,we needed a copy of our marriage license. Visa application failed.  In a major way.  We had to come back with all new papers for me and the marriage license.

Hubby went back to work in high dudgeon. Two or so hours of administration, two hours of travel for nothing.   My good hearted, patient, slow to anger man was furious.  He was ready to shut down the whole project.  BUT  there was a window in his really complicated awful schedule where he could go the next afternoon between meetings.   He came home Tuesday very late from an inland conference,  reworked my visa application, copied the marriage license and we fell into bed after midnight.  At least another hour of filling in and copying. (and being unhappy.)

Wednesday we really had to high tail it ( down that crappy horrible highway) to get to that office before it closed at 2:30.  But we squeaked in the door with a minute to spare, and got in line.  The worker bee took one look at my form and that was it.  There was no middle initial in my name. My name had to match the passport.  In my passport is a middle initial.  In my birth certificate there is not.  In between was my infant baptism at which the Catholic priest refused to baptize unless there was a Saint's name. Thus my then recently  deceased maternal grandmother's name became my middle name.  It depends on the document whether the middle initial is there or not.  No one has ever gotten that picky about an H in the history of man.

I burst into tears because I knew Hubby  was on the verge of cancellation and I really wanted him to go even if I could not, and he would not go without me.   He is not only one of the organizers of this conference, but he is the keynote speaker.  ...It was too late in the day to even go somewhere to get it fixed.  On the other hand, this worker bee decreed that a tourist visa was quite enough for me.  That is nice because it costs half of what the fancier visa does.  But still we left the office very sadly.

There was only one tiny ray of hope.  There was a couple of hours on Friday morning before he had an afternoon chockablock with meetings.   If we left predawn and hurried, we could get to the office and back in time.  Monday the visa office was closed. Any other day til we left, he was too booked to go back.  It looked pretty bleak.  

But that is what we did.  It took us an extra 30 minutes in the thick fog of the early rush hour to get there, the line was nearly out the door long, but we did it.  We even had two perfect forms filled out: one tourist, one conference because who knew which worker would be at the desk.  It was another long wait to pay: we chose to have courier service so no more horrible trips to Den Haag.  Another long wait and our faces and fingerprints were digitized.  Easy when you know how.

On the other hand the visa will not get here until 2-3 days before we leave IF the visas are granted.  There still is that hurdle.   Any joy in this journey has been sucked right dry.  Watch this space.

Madrid: day two

and why we prefer home-tels.

After coffee, yogurt and an orange, Himself was up and away in the dawn drizzle, only to be quite early.  That's the hazard when you don't know the city. Sometimes the walk looks like 15 minutes, but it goes straight up and down so it takes twice as long.  Madrid is hilly.  The closest Metro is a puffy climb to the hotel.  The one further is a pleasant loop through a park and along some interesting shops.  Poor Himself not only got dampish but the meeting was not all that constructive.  Even lunch wasn't great.  

On the other hand, the meeting ran out of steam an hour early, so he was delighted to hear I had targeted this as the sop to the miserable grim weather:   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chocolater%C3%ADa_San_Gin%C3%A9s.  

So off we went by foot.  I felt like we were walking through Chinatown. There are multiple small stores all run by folk who make it seem like Beijing's neighborhood around the Geoscience University campus.  The other preponderance of stores all have Spanish cured hams as their theme.  It makes it look like the only meat here is ham.  Not true, but you have to go find a poultry shop. And tapas.  Makes you wonder how folks stay in business--all the shops look the same to me. Apparently, people here must shop in a secret place for herbs and spices.  It took four tries to even find salt in a small take along recloseable package.  Teach me to forget the condiments.....

After gorging on delish-i-ous thick dipping chocolate and churros, we decided to walk to Mercato Anton Martin:  http://www.mercadoantonmartin.com/. We saw lots of Madrid life on the way . Many Christmas markets are ready to roll this weekend, even though it isn't December yet.

We never found the mercato due to some wonky instructions on a tourist site, but we did find pig's foot for Oma in a side street shop..  Wearily we turned to home base, successfully figured out the Metro, and with only three interesting shop detours return to the home-tel for dinner.  One detour was the jambon shop next to our apartment.  We have found that few folks speak any English in this area...but they forge on in Spanish and just hope something sounds familiar to us.  This shop was the real deal. Here is where the neighborhood comes to hang out.  Not one fancy up scale detail. But ham is all it's various very expensive glory from every angle. I have no idea what our knife wielding server was saying but he gave Himself directions on which hams to photograph...while he sliced away on a ham with hoof still attached.   This is not Kansas. Bearing our booty, back to base. 

Ah, the joys of self-catering.  Fresh cooked food we enjoy, in our socks; relaxing on the sofa while things simmer.  Yes, indeed, well worth the search to find short term apartments.  The fridge is bigger than the usual hotel bar fridges for our food finds.  A regular dinner table to spread out maps and information to study.  No maids in and out unless we ask. Much bigger rooms with comfy sitting instead of having to struggle with close quarters and using the too low bed to share information. Very happy. 

Tomorrow we walk through royal Madrid , meet friends and move on to their home.  

Madrid: Take Two

Some time ago, I tagged along to Madrid for a mad rush couple of working days.  We did get to whizz through Museum Prado http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Museo_del_Prado, and walked about that area at night ( our hotel was just down the street.) I discovered that Madrid tapas were not what I thought they would be.  We also managed to find a cafe by the botanical garden where the service was so rude it was shocking. The only thing I thought really worth a trip to Madrid was churros and chocolate. Also the wheelchair valet service at the airport was amazing.  However, it was not a stellar intro to Madrid.

Thus when Himself encouraged another tagalong to Madrid, I was less than enthused but we found a self-catering apartment, close to where he needed to meet the shuttle,  and in a different district close to the Royal Palace, for a great price. Plus some colleagues who live here want to take us under their wing for the weekend, so it will be a different visit entirely.

Let me just say that if you are a tiny person, Iberian Express has planes for you.  I have sore knees from the drubbing my kneecaps got for over two hours.  The weather is really bad in Madrid just now so we had a nightmare ride the close we got to the destination. We were in the last tail row.  I was a little alarmed.

Taxi man was lovely, not one word of English.  The Madrid Christmas lights are up and they are beautiful.Amazing street traffic for, to us, so late in the evening.  But we got to the hotel street in one piece, although the hotel could spend a penny and light the sign in front.  Since we arrived well after reception closed, and it was pitch dark, it was a little fumbly to get the right number punched in and get into the building.  Our keys and info were in another secured by keypad safe inside.

We stepped into our apartment  and were blown away. It's big, it's well equipped, it's comfy.

Then we went off to buy groceries, yes, at 11 o clock at night. The store is inside the nearby train station ( so convenient)  For the price of half a restaurant dinner, we got enough to last us til Saturday, when we join our friends. Himself had an early morning so we ate and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

It's grey and rainy this morning. I have to find condiments.  I have to finalize checkin. but first my breakfast....in my jammies.  I love apartment hotels.  :)

Why Coming Home Can Be a Trial

At least this trip did not end with police reports, broken locks or windows, and insurance assessments.  The carport shutters were screwed  tight,  The annex door was screwed tight.  The upper window has metal screening. The shutters were down on all the side and back windows. Our delightful neighbors were in and out for mail.  Another friend did walk thrus, cared for the car, and plants.  Thus all was well at Jade House when we arrived home. Thanks to everyone we spent not one paranoid moment!

We dropped all 10 of our bags in the dining room which immediately became a cluttered mayhem of a  staging center.  Boy decided to leave for his house that very night to check his premises and so he could get to the U to sign in for his study year, perhaps take aptitude and interest tests to help decide his future.  That eliminated two bags but his tooth still needs looking at....and the dentist had no room til next week.

Sweetpea declared that she would take care of her belongings so that eliminated two more bags still leaving 60 Kilos of mostly stinky sweaty dirty clothes for me to unpack (peee-euw), sort and wash.

Himself had booked the next day (Wednesday) off to recover from jet lag.  And jet lag has been the millstone ever since. Both of us have had a hard time getting our internal clock reset. Today (Monday) i still have not had a decent night sleep. I was up at 3:30 am Wednesday sorting and unpacking.  Then I took a nap while Himself went about unscrewing and opening up the house.  Then he napped.
I got up and did laundry until I went to bed at 6:30 pm because I couldn't stand up anymore.

Thursday morning I was up at 3:30 am again to do laundry, then we both got dressed  and went to the office because he had a meeting (I caught up on emails and administration):  at 1200 we fetched Sweetpea from the house and went to a church member's funeral and burial.   He dropped us off at home and went to another meeting.  I started yet another wash load and went to bed. He dragged in about 7pm, made dinner and we both died in bed after.

Friday was a bit better.  I was up at 6, he rode his bike to work after we cleaned up the kitchen from the night before.  I sorted out some more belongings one big bag for upstairs, one big bag for in storage. Then I got dressed and went back to church for another funeral.  This was a large group. so I stayed to pitch in and serve and cleanup after the reception.  But by the time I got home it was all I could do to go up and crawl in bed.  Boy came home early so he made dinner. Again, early to bed.

And so it was in the weekend.  We dropped gifts for the neighbors and had coffee, we did some grocery shopping, the sewing machines were serviced and picked up, we went to church, we went to Clan headquarters for dinner, we stopped by Brother2 to drop off a loaned camera.  More washing and folding. Suitcases put away. Some photos viewing.  All while feeling  like molasses in January.

Today everyone else starts the University year.  I need to get my house back in order.  MEH.

I think I will take a nap.

Scenic Xi'an

I love Xi’an. I truly do. If we had to stay in this country for any amount of time, I think I could live here.  Xi’an is quaint and quirky, crowded but spacious, amazing and appalling, all at once.

Of all the cities we have visited in China, Xi’an I think suffers the most from the millstones which China drags along as it tries to progress into the 21^st century.

One millstone is the Imperial past which shapes tradition.  Tradition is not a small thing in these parts. The Dynasties are carefully excavated, memorialized, and preserved in wonderfully curated museums where the oppression and misery of the folk who did the heavy lifting while the leaders basked in magnificence is unheralded.   All hail the unknown persons who made amazing scientific, artistic and technological advances well before the rest of the world were wearing clothes. Xi’an is famous for its historical treasures, as it should be.  A visit to the archaeological dig containing terracotta warriors ( and bronze chariots, and stables, and all manner of things needed for the afterlife)  should be on everyone’s bucket list.   We wonder just how much of the area’s economy depends upon tourist revenue.  The city has worked hard to make Xi’an a splendid attractive place to come with the family.

But the poor will always be with us and it bothers me to see ancient tiny toothless grandparents begging amongst the beautiful statues in the park, or sidling up to you outside the museum to gather your empty plastic bottles (to recycle??) Where did the tradition of taking care of the elderly go?

Well, part of that challenge is also connected to the next millstone. The Communist Dynasties.  Not much changed for the truly poor under communism, I think,…the folk carried the weight while the leadership got fat and powerful.  Now China’s economy is vying for a part of the capitalistic pie. This economic shift creates a mobile population that comes to the cities or moves to another. Then parents are left behind, with no infrastructure for support.  In a country this huge, children cannot go home every weekend, so the elderly make do the best they can. But it is a problem.

Opening itself to the capitalists has made other changes to China- Dunkn’Donuts, KFC, Macdonald’s, Subway, Prada, big cars, 7-11---just to name a few.  Boggling to see a Papa John’s Pizza nestled next to a stunning statue commemorating ancient Chinese philosophers and poets.

Another millstone is the population numbers.  My goodness, there are a lot of people here. Everywhere.  Loudly.   The rule about one child has serious repercussions in the countryside, but here in the city it seems like every second person has a child about their person. Every one of them cute as a button.  I asked how the one child rule was working for China-  the answer: very slowly. I guess good nutrition and better conditions mean people aren’t dying fast enough….but the grandchildren are twice as tall as their grandparents…

So it is a little multiple personalitied, China is.  You can’t find a taxi to save your life in Xi’an, but around the corner is yet another serene and breathtaking public park to settle your chi right back down.  The University here is doing well and has a great new campus. But the students really struggle with conversational English, so they almost have to go study abroad if they want to present well in the greater scientific community.  There is internet and even WiFi but the connections are so slow and chancy that you can’t upload photos.

And there is more, the air conditioning works a treat- but the plumbing is so outdated that you throw your toilet paper in the bin and take a lot of cold showers.

Still, it is green and lovely here, even in this heatwave.   I do love Xi’an;  warts, wrinkles and all.

Footloose in Fuzhou, but I scored some great sandals

{Yes, I know the formatting is abnormal, but because of the VPN, bandwidth, computer illiteracy and kismet I don't know how to fix it.]
So. This afternoon the conference excursion was the planned event.  Even though the first bus didn't
leave until after three PM we all suspected that it was crazy blisteringly hot to wander in downtown
Fuzhou no matter how enchanting the sights are.  Nevertheless, the organizers dealt out hats and fans
and water to the hatless, fanless and waterless (don't people plan ahead?) and off we went under the
guidance of a very hard working guide who was not chosen for her dulcet toned voice.  After about 10
minutes I would have put that screeching cat out of it's misery.  Poor thing!  She has no idea how ear
cringingly dreadful she is. So, teeth firmly gritted, we trooped along after her-- and only one of us got
sent home with heat stroke.

We went to see a restructured historical area called "Three Lanes and Seven Alleys" which has been
reconstructed not so long ago to look authentic- but for the modern shops after the facades. Still, it is
worth a look...

Since I am not in  an optimal photo sharing position, here is a linky to some images:
http://www.google.com/search?complete=0&bav=on.2,or.&bvm=bv.50310824,d.cGE,pv.xjs.
s.en_US.I9e44VIvEiw.O&biw=1024&bih=405&um=1&ie=UTF-&hl=en&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=218CUqahJOO
JjALUyICoBA&q=Sanfang%20Qixiang%20%22Three%20Lanes%
20and%20Seven%20Alleys%22

Himself and I are usually not big group follow the leader folks, but this weather really saps any desire
to stroll along back alleys and quiet neighborhoods  on our own.

This was actually our travelers' nightmare. Huge group, strident guide, off the charts heat and humidity- and
nothing really exraordinary if you have been in China before.  It was the children's first Chinese history moment; but I think the heat made it less wonderful than it could have been.

It was a blessing to go play tourist shopping the last hour. Many of the shops are air conditioned.

My flip-flops (which I had gone all over Holland to find) were falling apart.

 Sweetpea had developed the dreaded enormous heel blisters and had been wearing them non-stop since we got here- I think that constant readjusting ( we do not have anywhere near the same feet) and cheap construction combined- so there I was digging my toes into the sole to keep the dang sandals on--
further aggravating my great toe- which toe hates the compression socks- which I must wear to offset elephant legs- which are brought on by heat and humidity- so I need sandals.

While cooing and oohing over very expensive backpacks and bags with panda, shark and cute as all get out
designs, I spied with my little gotta go see every shoe store on earth eye, a small section of sandles
at the back of the store...12 euros later I have a fine pair of well fitting good looking flappers.
I love a good shoe bargain.

We staggered back on the bus to return to the venue- where we drip dried during yet another hit-or-miss
recipe collection buffet for dinner.  As we walked out the dining hall door, Himself was informed he was
expected for an unexpected meeting. We had talked about me getting a pedicure and a foot massage after
dinner and were sort of heading that way.

So we collected Lady Professor Xi'an for translation and information help and swanned off to the spa.
Himself went on to his meeting from there while we ladies skinnied up the narrowest circular stairs I
have ever seen to go up to the massage and body care area ( where even your ears can be cleaned for a
fee.)

Once everything was in order, I bid a grateful farewell to lady professor and with watermelon juice in hand,
settled in for my treatment.  The pedicure took nearly an hour- and that was with no fussy polish. He used only a sharp instrument to cut nail, dry skin and callouses away. It was amazing to see him work.  Then he went on to give a from the knees down full out therapeutic foot massage lasting about an hour as well.
And all of this attention for less that 50 euros. These folk really work hard for so little.

By the time I got back to the room, Himself came back from his meeting- and then we sorted laundry for
pickup tomorrow. Who knew that laundry was going to be a major line item? I do not remember paying
through the nose before- but you gotta have clean undies.

Himself decided a dip in the pool would be a great way to end the day and remove a layer of the day's
sweat- alas- 10 PM is closing time- so showers must suffice--tomorrow is another day to swim.

But swim in sweat or swimming pool is the question.

Frying in Fuzhou (but it was cool getting here)

It was exciting  when the 2013 DPC conference venue was chosen for  Fuzhou, China.  Of course, Himself was expected to attend,  I was more than happy to go,  then we decided to take SweetPea and The Boy along.  With school and other constraints, the regular summer conferences usually meant a very spoiled stay with the grandparents. Now they are young adults; they can't afford a trip like this.  We think this is the last great family  journey before they are off creating their own histories. So it began:   we had two years to pull it off.

Airfares were going to be the biggest budget item we thought at the time. So we hoarded  every air mile we could earn. This was helped by an unexpected trip to China last autumn.  And KLM issues air mile tickets by leg of journey. This meant it cost no more extra  to fly in and out of different cities as it would by purchased tickets.  A program change downgraded my air miles card, but Himself is still Elite, a bonus for us all in efficiency and comfort as we would find out later.

The extra trip in between demonstrated just how much the economy, and prices had changed since our first trip back in 2005.  Our revised  budget was going to be very different; hotels were now raising prices, and tourist tickets were also increased.  I began to fret over this to The Man Upstairs, because nothing ruins my travels more than watching every single atom of food, sip of drink, and curtailing adventures because of budget cuts…

And so my frustration was heard.  A second conference was added (invited speaker’s stipends are a good thing,)  colleagues in Xi ‘an and Beijing requested seminars as we pass through their area. Those universities will accommodate all of us, and are planning full out sightseeing programs for the family. I started to relax a bit about funding this excursion.  Even when the car needed repair…

A former student will get married next week. He planned his wedding so we could be there—and has laid out a full schedule of tourism in Wuhan.  He is being so generous we finally had to put our foot down about the room and board. Gosh.   Yiming has greased the wheels of train ticket and domestic flight tickets purchasing as well.  Abundant hospitality.  We are totally in awe of what folks will do for us.     

Actually the most complicated part of the journey was wrangling visas for our stay which required three trips to The Hague, and the addition of extra pages in my passport…who knew?   And appropriate clothes…it took some preparation to get here.

A check of the climate told us that we were headed for “the sweatbox of China.” Apparently that is something people are proud of. Huh.  Since  the Dutch weather is cold and wet most of the time, finding subtropical weight clothes in a local store is sort of beyond hope. And so I sewed, and sewed and sewed…and will blog about that in another place.

Our housesitter had to cancel for dreadful personal reasons and every other avenue was a dead end so we literally nailed things shut, and put grates on the windows.  The lovely neighbors will be in and out as will a trusted friend so we hope that the burglars will leave us alone. But there were moments when we thought we’d have to worry about security for the entire trip.

Writing about it now seems like a distant memory, but I assure you July was not a calm month. But the day finally arrived and we left.

Other than not having printed  boarding passes for the children for the second leg of the trip in, we actually enjoyed our checkin for the first leg of the trip.  Because Himself is Elite, we are in the fast lane for everything, just following like little ducks along the way.  We even got through security without a hassle this time ( although SweetPea had a tiny pair of blunt nosed scissors in her first aid kit that the Chinese guards removed)

As we were scanned in to the departure gate, the machine binked red and Himself had a seat change.  I had worried about this a bit because often the air mile seats are in a different section than purchased. BUT, this time, it was that his seat was upgraded to Business class.  Well, that meant to the family that uncomfortable me was going in the front alone. Um well OK.  So then the gate ladies saw that PapaDuck had three waddlers behind and they did some magic so that suddenly all four of us were Business class tickets. Now that was so overwhelmingly wonderful  could have kissed them all.

Turbulent flight, terrible food, but oh those seats recline right down flat and have leg room for six in the space of two seats.  Fabulous. Thank you, god of upgrades.

We had a stopover in the boring early morning airport of Guangzhou –where the kids got to eat real Chinese food for the first time- and flew on to Fuzhou.  We were met and delivered to the hotel (whew- one more thing to not worry about) called Fuzhou Lakeside- a 5 star- and the venue for the conference.  It is a decent hotel.  Pretentious lobby, good rooms, fine plumbing  ( something China is not good at) and a whole boatload of cooks who serve hot food cold and the scrambled eggs swim in oil.  Worst food I ever had in China. Really. Except for the bread- some of the best bread- really tasty- and truly solid black. Literally BLACK bread. Your eyes just do not jive with what the tongue tases.

And oh the weather.  35 to 40 Celsius and humidity in the 90’s.  The plus side of that is the swimming pool is 34 Celsius so  I actually will get in and stay in for more than a dip. The family was thrilled to see mama in a swimming pool.  Walking we have decided is for very early in the morning or after dark.

But that is for another post.

Everything but the quack...and LOTS of it ( thoughts on food in Beijing)

The day dawned quietly, without fanfare on the world stage.  The day when comparative  financial security, stable home and hearth, and most crucial, the recognition that what my mother thought did not have to control my every choice, combined.  It was a moment of insight on several levels. One revelation ( on how important a level is yet to be decided) was: I can eat whatever I want now.

To some readers this might be a true shoulder shrug event.  BUT  I grew up in the "poor children in China" clean your plate post war years;  I also struggled for over a decade with buy milk or buy bread decisions as a young single parent on a shoestring,  I deplore waste.  Food preferences weren't optional for much of my life. My parents did not have a three bite rule ( i.e. If you are still gagging after three bites, you don't have to eat it.) although to be fair, they introduced new foods carefully and in small amounts.  My mother ( who has well disguised food issues only perceived as I grew to adulthood) ruled the kitchen. Liver was not on the menu, but strangely lima beans (shiver) were.  This indoctrination extended well into my own home...never thought about it really until the great day came.

HA HAH! I don't have to eat potatoes (until recently when I find I crave mashed),  lima beans, or coriander.  I will never be a tofu eating vegetarian, although  I enjoy less and less meat. And I certainly prefer my food to arrive naked, faceless and wrapped in plastic from the shop.  Food prep, sanitation and storage are important to me ( those food biology classes at University and later as shome child care supervisor cranked up my squeamishness.)

So here I find on the streets of Beijing all that sends my food alarm bells into overdrive.  Unidentified featherless fowl bodies are suspended like clothes on a washline far above the pedestrians but close to the pollution dense streets (more flavor?) Tofu lurks for the unwary on every menu. Meat arrives from the kitchen with eyes and sometimes other bit intact.  I did eat these street vendor wonderful little fruits on a stick.  They were covered with boiling hot sugar syrup so I figure most the germs died. What a crunch sweet blast of flavor!

Some menu items are made out of , erm, guts.  Some things are labelled edible (?) fungus, the consistency of which mildly resembles boiled rubber band. I have developed radar alert for such like things.

Now, truth be told we like most Chinese food. recipes.  Sometimes the variations thereof are scary.  In Beijing they like it spicy. No, I mean they like it hot. lip searing intestine scarring hot.  My friend Laurie would die and go to heaven for the chili paste.  The food radar usually alerts for chilies ..but these cooks are sneaky.  The other morning a grilled tomato with lovely melted cheese looked for all the world like it came from London... via a good long soak in pepper sauce we found to my tongue's shriveled dismay.

We have mostly been able to navigate around pigeon soup complete with decapitated head with beak and eyes, sea cucumber in all its gelatinous ukky glory, and abalone which Himself will eat but did not pass my three bite test.But when someone else is doing the hosting and choosing we have to depend on pure good luck.

Take noodles...I give up. No chopstick skill.  And I prefer not to be the table entertainment chasing my food over the plate. of course everyman here slurps their noodles.  I am still my mother's child enough to know that having a noodle beard hanging out of my mouth over a little bowl it not happening in this lifetime.  Of course someone runs for the fork...but I know me and noodles. It is an eating event reserved for home only even with western utensils.So they know now to order clumsy here dumplings--but please not 5 kinds!!!!!!!!

The Chinese restaurant menu has possibly 200 dishes on it.  We choose maybe two and our hosts urge us to order more more more.  No no no.  Everyone shares what they order, but it is still always too much. I am glad to see that doggie bags are common here so the waste is mitigated somewhat but I see nearly full plates of food go into the bin at most meals. Makes me nuts because I know with a few hundred yards there are folks who have never seen the inside of a restaurant and would love this fresh food. The children don't look like they are starving but still...um the children in Africa are.

On the other hand, nothing of the animal is wasted.  We went to have Peking Duck at this very famous place.Everything is used. yes, even the webs.  And so as the guest of honor, Himself found himself with half a duck's head neatly cleavered in twain upon his plate. Not one to turn down odd food, he did eat.  He lived to tell of it.  Uck.

But then he was born and raised in a country where every bit of the pig is used except the squeak.
His mother would have competed with him to eat it.  My mother would have died right there at the table.
I just go quietly quakers.

Schiphol, where you do not want to be handicapped.

It all started when Himself was invited to Beijing, no actually, it started with the announcement of a conference in China summer of 2012.  Of course, I got on board immediately, as China is high on my list of loved places.  We had  discussed taking Thing One and Thing Two along  because we could show them Beijing on one end of the visit and Shanghai on the other and perhaps Xi'an in between. When this invitation came, I suggested that we tack this other invitational  "sabbatical"  on to the end of that conference/ family visit, send the kids back to University,  and stay on for whatever The Great Minds wanted him.  Well, the great Minds wanted the meeting to happen well before next summer' s end so here we are. And I get TWO trips to China!

It has been a frenetic few weeks leading up to this visit.  We have been burning the candle at both ends to clear our desks and leave tidy piles behind.  A few nerve raveling bumps, as usual, but finally we kissed our teary eyed Sweetpea goodbye at the bus, loaded  up our carefully measured and weighed baggage, and promptly found ourselves in the molasses slow evening rush towards the Amersfoort train station. We missed our train.  Thirty minutes later we did the luggage into the train rhumba and off we went to Schiphol.

On of the nice things about Schiphol is that we are KLM elite flyers so we get the red carpet.  One of the worst things about Schiphol is their cavalier and nearly always unsatisfactory assistance valet service.  So, while checking in is efficient and often lineless,  the wheelchair folks let us down badly,  This time was the worst.

I have been told by a valet that the philosophy of the assistance service is to do the least they can for their customers "so they don't take advantage."  Isn't that just stunning? Imagine coming to the Netherlands for the first time, with a handicap, and  being treated  so shabbily.  What a first impression.  I am ashamed. So, even knowing their track record, this episode was prize winning in its awesome consumer unfriendlyness.  This time we were walked from the cheerless and uncomfortable assistance waiting area through Immigration, which is not that far, and since we go through the fast lane I don't have to endlessly stand, a main concern for me.  So far so good.  We got on the go cart went to security where it took forever and a day because Andries the Anarchist set off all the alarms.  Well, yes, by the time he carries all the equipment and wires and electronics and stuff it does look worrying to security- and then he had a USB stick in his shirt pocket which made us even longer there.

By now our go-cart driver decided that she needed to go to another gate for a pickup because our delay might make her pickup think she wasn't coming.She did apologize saying that the scheduler had her booked very closely. So there we were whizzing right by our gate on the way to go get someone else.  She parked and went off to collect the customer.   We waited.  and waited.  Suddenly all in a rush our valet runs by at speed because she needs a wheelchair. She disappears.  We waited. and waited. and then waited.  Our girl rushes by with wheelchair, followed by another go-cart and driver WHICH IS EMPTY , AND PARKS AT THE GATE.  Our frazzled valet vanishes with wheelchair. We wait five solid minutes.  We can see our gate and our plane leaves in 20 minutes.

We finally decide enough is enough and waddle the way back to our to our gate. Luckily, the shuttle to Paris is not a big long lines kind of departure.  So the standing was do-able.  Luckily, I thought to inquire while on the way to CDG, a confusing a HUGE airport, if a wheelchair would be awaiting.  Mind you, we had reserved one for all legs of the journey AND had email confirmation with us. The oh so French staff were so apologetic. Schiphol had assured them there were no wheelchair folks.   Ah HA.  But yes, they arranged, it was there, and Madame and her trusty valet were off through the cavernous  Paris CDG terminal.  So solicitous,  so polite, and even apologetic when they had to switch valets- which valet wheeled me right to the plane entry with a smile and a steady elbow.

Schiphol is such that I don't remember a valet coming out to  the baggage terminal-- but every where else this is normal. Beijing was no different.  We again were in the express lane, no standing, and he even helped Andries with the baggage! Immigation went smoothly.  Then we were met by two welcoming University students who were to take us to the University hotel by taxi. The valet actually stood there until the taxi was loaded and I didn't have to stand in line at all. Now THAT  is a real blessing to me. and is the way handicapped folks should be treated.

I so appreciated that I am not wheelchair bound.  When I must use one, I am often struck by the way the rest of the world treats the differently abled.  Huh, and we call ourselves civilized.  But we are safely in Beijing, and the saga begins....

Shuffle off to... Shanghai

Back in 2005, we had back to back conference events in China.   I LOVED Beijing; every single minute- even the crazy taxis and traffic.  I had a great time in Shanghai too, even though it did not charm me the way  Beijing did; Shanghai has it's wonderful elements.   One of the best things to visit is the Shanghai  Museum.  Beautifully curated; equipped with a fine audio tour, I spent a very happy afternoon there, and even returned with Andries for a second time later.  That is high marks for a museum: usually, once seen, I am done.  But this museum is full of funerary art.  And we all know about Jana's penchant for funerary art...well, maybe you don't...I only realized it after looking at my photos of Florence, Italy.  I spend an awful lot of time around dead folks things. 

So I was working companionably this weekend alongside Himself at the ancient but still serviceable Big Laptop, and came across the 2005 China photos.  I have backed them up in a cloud, but they aren't on the PC we use for everyday, hmmmm how to get them there? In the meantime here are some highlights from the Museum

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150728554082515.401819.653402514&type=3&l=a7a7d3cbcf

flat tyler link repost

lets try this again!

Little flat boy Tyler

Little flat man Tylerarrived one day
in the post;
he came to play
All through Easter did he stay
riding in our pocket.

Many photos later
we bid a fond adieu
We had such fun
with little Flat One
we share it now with you!

I hope the album linky works!!
click on the photo to see the album!!

ROAD KILL

Along the road to eternity one meets all sorts of fellow travelers.  Some keep in step along the entire way, some whizz through, leaving indelible memories behind; some fall out of step, fall behind, and are lost, some catch back up after a while. Some fellow travelers are destined to become road kill.

Yes, indeed, when I accidentally kill a relationship it is very like road kill. You know, when one day you are totally immersed in each other’s life (so  I think) and the next day, poof, gone, dead as a doornail friendship.  No explanations.  

 I never forget it.  It makes me worried about every other relationship.  I lose my choice making confidence.  I mourn every time I think about it.  Did I run over your feelings accidentally or did you jump in front of the oncoming destruction.  Please just tell me what happened!

I like to think I am a caring, compassionate, loyal person; someone you would like to be a friend with. I have character flaws that might be off-putting.  One being:  I don’t trust easily, because for a while abandonment was my middle name.  Death, divorce, disloyalty have all left significant scars on my mental landscape. But if I do trust you and I open my heart to you I expect you to be on that eternal road with me for a good long time, because I am loyal.  Disposable is not a word I use as an adjective in front of friend.

On bad days, I pick open those memories.  Am I really such a bad friend?  Why did I think we were friends?  And boy, do I wish I knew the answer. 

Because I miss you,still.

Backroads

The other day started out poorly.  I suppose I was tired, I often am if I don't keep the CPAP mask on all night.  Himself was away on a long business jaunt; I like it less and less to be left behind.  I misplaced keys, I tried to pack too much in to the morning; just dumb shoot-myself-in-the-foot things I do.

Later in the day I was driving home from an appointment.  I chose the longer but more scenic route.  The radio was playing some song that I was dancing to in my head.  One thought lead to another and I realized  how often I took the back road, the more scenic route in life. It takes longer to get to the destination, it is not as direct, nor efficient.  Sometimes the back road is dark, lonely, and scary.  It often is not the way people expect.

But I get where I need to be eventually, and usually have a great story to tell as well.

Like dancing in my head.  I do it often. I do it well.  Sometimes I skate too.  I wanted to dance when I was a girl. According to "them", I was too tall; I was  large boned.  I was not a prima ballerina type.  To my parents, dancing was ballet, period.  I guess it never occurred to "them" that my not so Margot Fonteyn physique did not disqualify me from other forms of dance.  Later in life, the backroads took me to ethnic dance, and ballroom, and theatre dance. I was pretty good after all.

But now I am traveling autumn roads, and  my time and season for dance is over.   So I dance in my head.  Oh, how I dance! I hardly recognize the confident, strong, free woman who dances on the stage of my mind.
But as I drove on that frosty afternoon backroad, I smiled.

Backroads are worth traveling.

Rolltop Desk, adieu

I cannot remember not loving wooden furniture in all its warmth and comfortable glory.  Along our partnership journey we have collected a few eclectic bits here and there, generally secondhand,  and some real treasures right off the pile awaiting the bone and rag man ( or whatever he is called these days) on neighborhood curb sides. I don't know what we will do to replace our hybrid dining table.  Legs and frame from one table and in-folding  extension top from another: it is higher than most tables and suits our family well. I dare not think what a custom made version of that would cost.

In fact, I pretty much don't know how much new furniture costs, period.  We built our beds, our wardrobes, our bedside tables. OK, so I designed them and Himself made them while I hovered.  Our bedroom shelving  is IKEA adjustable open stuff...not particularly high end.  We have purchased two sofas new, no three, but one was super crappy dirt cheap make do foam rubber sofa bed because we needed somewhere to sit and sleep when we moved here. Long gone.

There is only one piece of bought new furniture that I can think of:  furniture that was purchased simply as an I-want and the price was right. The Rolltop Desk.  Oh man, I was thrilled to find it- in our local DIY of all places.  We didn't really need it. But I had to have it. I swoon over roll top desks.  I can't remember how we got it home, since at that time we didn't own a car. But home it came- I remember fitting it together and giving it a good rubdown with beeswax.  AH! My desk.

It still looks pretty good

Just look at all those drawers to be organized and tidy

Yeah.yeah. Whose desk?  Somehow it never really was my desk after all.  It was always so chockablock with stuff that no one ever sat at it .  I tried a few times to organize and streamline the chaos.  However, my methods of archiving and administration are  polarly different than Himself's style; I finally gave up. Once in a while I would shove stuff around so the top came down and I wouldn't have to look at the mess.  It was a total fail as a desk in reality.  It was a great catchall though.

The renovation of the house has finally reached the dining room, which is also a study/office most of the time (when I was sewing in here it was a three ring circus.)  We plan to line the walls with book and showcases and have just the refectory table in here with ladderback chairs.  No room for any desk.
Goodbye, lovely rolltop.

So Himself put it on the internet for sale and within a couple of hours it got snapped up. Amazing because most Dutchfolk like streamlined steel and glass these days- sharp corners, straight lines, black leather.

I am trying not to think about it.  I still love that desk.
I am sorta planning on not being here Saturday when it goes to its new home.
She'll probably use it like a desk.
I wonder if I can come and visit ?