An Alpine Holiday

Ah, the Alps. The mere mention of the word can instantly clear the mind and bring visions of sunshine, craggy mountaintops, and clean, fresh air.  Last week, we loaded up the car to prepare for our family's journey to Austria to introduce the kids to skiing and get some well-deserved r&r.

 

The drive from Amsterdam, if you believe the internet, was supposed to take 9 1/2 hours. But German traffic jams had something else to say about that, turning the overall journey into a 12+ hour affair. We set out on Friday after the kids were done with school, intending to split the drive into two sections. Our goal on day 1: Make it as far as Frankfurt. The only stop of note on the first night was at a delightful Italian restaurant in a tiny little German/Dutch border town. We trusted the handy GPS unit to find us "food", and the darn thing worked like a charm. Nobody spoke a word of English, but it was just as well...the proprietor was able to communicate and deliver his delicious food to us with no problems.

 

Onward we drove to Frankfurt, and we exited the Autobahn just outside the city, again calling upon the GPS to find our first night's lodging. It looked pretty sketchy as we made turn after turn, descending deeper and deeper into what appeared to be an industrial or trucking company building complex. But don't doubt your GPS! Around the last turn was this quaint little German hotel where we would rest our bones for the night.

 

The second part of the drive to our destination of Kleinarl, Austria, a quaint village nestled snugly in the Alps, is best left for another day over a cold adult beverage. Suffice to say that the traffic snarls were VERY unpleasant.

 

But whatever tensions we might have had brewing within were released as we entered Austria and began the winding drive to Kleinarl. For those of you who have never seen them, they seem to me a bit of a cross between the Rocky Mountains and the Cascades. Throw in the magic of the Austrian people and their warmth and hospitality, then you kind of get the picture.

 

This was a shared holiday, and we eagerly awaited the arrival of our friends. The Kincaids (Che/Wendy/Amalie) would arrive on Sunday, but the Tam-Naulty's (Greg/Amy/Abigail) arrived not too long after we did on Saturday.

 

Our home away from home was the Hotel Angerwirt, which was positioned perfectly in the town...just a 2 minute (free) van shuttle ride to the ski lift and a 35-second walk to the cross-country trails that Stacey and I used extensively throughout the week. As is typical in many of these smaller Austrian ski towns, one main lift services the town, which you then use to access a much bigger network of trails on adjoining mountains. Taking a trip up your main lift to mid-mountain, using another to get to the top, skiing down the other side, riding up ANOTHER mountain....and back home again...can take the better part of the day.

 

Maya and Cole were thrilled about entering the ski school, and after a few days, they both felt confident and comfortable on their skis. The ski school was structured very well, and somewhat humorously, most of the instructors were DUTCH gals who were fulfilling some type of college credit! But those were about the only Dutch that we saw most of the week--an odd fact, I thought. According to a British guy I spoke with briefly on the slopes one day, in the neighboring town of Flachau most of the tourists were from the Netherlands. By contrast, in Kleinarl, most of the tourists were from the province of Lower Austria, which was having their spring break. There was also a smattering of Germans, Polish, Czech, and plenty of folks from Denmark. Other than the British guy I mentioned, I encountered no others from the UK, and ZERO Americans. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a nice side-benefit of taking the path less traveled. Stacey mentioned as we were waiting in one lift line that one of the most annoying things about skiing is dealing with obnoxious people and their inane conversations while waiting. But if you can't understand (most) of the language, no problem!

 

The kids had a blast each day, and were very content to spend all day with their classes. This gave Stacey and I time to enjoy the slopes as well as some classic and skating xc skiing. Of course, I insisted on making sure that the Austrian hefeweizen beer was up to par, and I was afforded ample opportunities. I would even go as far as saying that enjoying a hefeweizen mountainside in the Austrian Alps is about as good as it gets.

 

Another thing that really helped our attitudes during the week was the abundance of sunshine. Every day, save for one, was filled with brilliant light. Those of you from the Pacific NW of the US or from the Netherlands can understand the value of the golden ball of fire showering us with her goodness.

 

Like most holidays, we basically lived from meal to meal, spreading our evening dining experience between a number of  local eateries. The kids, especially Maya, fell in love with Wiener Schnitzel! The salads were huge and delicious, and the kasnocken (a cheesy Spätzle dish), Kaiserschmarrn (shredded, carmelized, fried pancakes!), and other local specialties were incredible. For adult beverages besides beer, our group enjoyed the varnish-removing and mind-clearing properties of both Glühwein and Jagertee.

The week would too soon come to a close, but not before the kids were honored in the week-ending awards presentation. We almost blew it off in order to get some swimming time in back at the hotel, but are we glad we didn't! The kids were positively beaming, so proud at their accomplishments on skis. Multiply that pride by 100 for mom & dad!  All age groups had a slalom race on the last afternoon, and Maya's age group was timed!  Cole got a medal for his participation, and Maya won 3rd place and was given her first trophy - she was thrilled.

 

Speaking of the pool, the swimming area at the hotel was exceptional. The owners must have pumped a few hundred thousand Euro into the pool alone, which featured a stainless-steel main pool, an aromatherapy/steam room, standard sauna, infrared sauna, foot bath, tea drinking/lounging area, workout room, and tanning bed room. We all loved soaking our muscles here at the end of each long day.

 

Before we left, we booked a sleigh ride for the whole group - partly on the roads and then straight across the snowfields - just as you'd picture it. The driver picked us up at our hotel, where we embarked on a 60-minute journey to a restaurant at the end of the valley, nestled on the shores of a lake called Jagersee. The ride, the meal, and the return ride in the sleigh under the stars capped off what could be the perfect family vacation.

Check out all of the pictures from our trip by clicking HERE.

 

The School Commute

Here's a slice of daily life...getting ready for the ride to school. Fortunately, we ride in much more daylight as we get closer to Spring.

Hij Ligt Voor Pampus

On a warm day in Los Angeles almost 24 years ago, Hans Koeleman, a Dutchman with Olympic dreams, circled the track in a qualifying heat of the 3000-meter steeplechase. He ran with purpose, no doubt filled with pride to be representing the Netherlands on the worlds biggest athletic stage. He would repeat the feat in Seoul in 1988, this time progressing further in the qualifying heats.

On a cold, windy, and brilliant day yesterday in the Netherlands, I joined Hans for a two-hour run through some beautiful countryside on the outskirts of Amsterdam. As we plodded through muddy bogs on parts of the reclaimed island of Ijburg, we shared tales of two lifetimes spent in pursuit of the joy of running.

For Hans, who retired from competitive running in the late 1980s, the passion for the sport--albeit on a much different level--was rekindled in 1998 when he completed his first marathon in New York City. Since then, he has gone on to complete a number of marathons and ultramarathons, including the reknown Comrades Ultra in South Africa 4 times. We discussed the logistics of the race since I have been contemplating doing it myself. Thanks to an introduction by a mutual friend Che Kincaid, I was able to pick Hans' brain for a few hours as we enjoyed the scenery.

A former hardcore member of the academia (he had abandoned his pursuit of a Ph.D. in history to work for Nike), Hans shared various historical points of interest with me throughout the run. At one point, we ran across a dike that dated back to Medieval times, passing flocks of sheep who sometimes blocked out path. Small garden plots and adjoining "sheds" dotted the landscape, offering a place for city dwellers to grow and harvest their own vegetables (apparently, the waiting lists for the plots are long). Cows grazed in nearby meadows, and ships swayed vigorously in the adjacent sea (part of the ancient Zuiderzee), anchored just off the shoreline. 

We approached our turnaround point, the Muiden Castle ("Muiderslot"), and I was dumbfounded at the beauty of the area, the castle, and the sense of the "please pinch me" moment.

On our return, we gazed across the water at an island in the distance. "We have a saying in Dutch," said Hans: " 'Hij ligt voor Pampus,' which means 'he's very tired' or 'he's completely exhausted." Hans gestured out toward the island and continued his explanation. "That is Pampus Island. In the days of sailing ships, the wind at this part of the Zuiderzee, near the island, would often go completely still. The ships would be dead in the water off the coast of Pampus Island, and hence the expression."

But the run left me anything but feeling exhausted. The stimulating conversation and shared experience of a great Sunday run (with an Olympian, no less) left me as invigorated and inspired as I've felt in weeks.

A note to my track geek friends: Hans was a two-time All-American at Clemson University. In 1980, he was the ACC Champion in the mile and two-mile run. He is Clemson's record holder in the two mile run with a time of 8:33.03. Outdoors, he earned All-America honors in the 3000m steeplechase in 1981, 1982 and 1983. He won conference titles in the steeplechase twice (1982, 1983) as well as the 5000m crown in in 1983. His steeplechase p.r. is 8:18.02 (Budapest, 1985), which was the Dutch national record for over 20 years until being broken by European record holder Simon Vroemen. He competed in both the 1984 and 1988 Summer Olympic games.

Blog updates

Thanks for all of the comments on the blog. We have a lot of fun bringing you updates.

Two new updates include a full range of photos from both of our recent trips to Spain. Look at the end of the Espana! and Barcelona! blog entries for links to the photo albums.

Barcelona!

I promise that I won't overdo the exclamation points this time, but Barcelona was exceptional.

Stacey was scheduled to attend the Bread & Butter fashion tade show last weekend, so I decided to join her for an extended weekend trip. With her mother visiting us in Amsterdam, babysitting duties were covered.

Barcelona has perhaps eclipsed other cities as my favorite destination in Europe. Revitalized for the 1992 Olympic Games, the city is the shining jewel of Spain. Everything that makes a European city great can be found here: Incredible cuisine, a vibrant nightlife, architecture that leaves you breathless, bustling markets...and plenty of sunshine!

After landing at the airport, I boarded a free, clean, and convenient train and soon connected to the city's subway system. As soon as I emerged from the station in the heart of the city, I knew that the trip would be magical. First, I had to shake off the dust with a glass of Sangria at a tapas bar next to the hotel. Stacey soon met me, and we shared another glass before heading out to meet her enchanting co-workers for a delectable dinner at a locally-owned restaurant that sat on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea.

On Friday, I managed to slip through the gates of the trade show with Stacey (don't ask!). As with any huge international trade show, the booths and products displayed seemed to go on forever. Multiple levels of the main exhibit hall displayed sportswear, fashion lines, denim, and accessories from across the globe. A big "wow" factor.

The rest of the day was spent wandering about the city, weaving through tiny streets, ducking in and out of shops, and satiating our appetite for food and drink. Say what you will about the cuisine of the rest of the world...Spanish tapas deserve their place near the top of the heap.

In the late afternoon, we headed north from the city to the Parc Guell, enjoying the famed architect Antoni Gaudi's incomparable tiled creations--benches, sculptures, rooftops, and caverns. 

The view of the entire city was remarkable.

The walk back to the city center took hours and numerous food and drink stops, culminating in one of the many small plazas of the Gracia neighborhood where we enjoyed a meal adjacent to a magnificent bell tower. Needless to say, we slept well that night.

More adventure was on tap for Saturday. But first, we enjoyed a late breakfast/early lunch in the Born district (yes, more tapas!). From there, we walked along the famed La Rambla, enjoying people-watching as much as anything. La Boqueria, Barcelona's enormous food/produce/meat market is the most spectacular I've ever seen. If you're familiar with Amsterdam, think Noordermarkt on steroids x 100!

Onward we went, again heading to higher altitudes, this time to an incredible cathedral that sits high above the city, accessed by a series of trolleys and trams. The views? To say "breathtaking" would be doing the English language a grave injustice and perhaps making the understatement of the century.

I should mention at this point that our traveling companion for the weekend was a good friend from the States and a co-worker of Stacey's, Sam Halvorsen, whose infectious laugh made the journey always fun. 

Plus, she's got a knack for finding just the "right" souvenir at gift shops! ;-) 

A long night out was ahead of us on Saturday. We kicked off the night by attending an incredible flamenco dancing show. I'm normally very skeptical of tourist-oriented shows, but this one was first class, at nearly bud

get prices. The music, the singing, and mostly, the dancing were done with a passion rarely seen with stage shows, and virtually

 every aspect of the show was performed with precision and professionalism. And the Sangria kicked ass, too.

Perhaps it was the Sangria, but after we left the flamenco show, I felt a tear form in my eye and a lump in my throat as we looked up at the incomparable Sagrada Familia. It's beauty is challenging to put into words. 

Remarkably, this intricate masterpiece of a church was begun in 1882, and construction continues to this day, with its finish projected sometime around 2026! The sight alone of the magnificent structure is inspirational.

We had an amazing time going to a number of fun night spots, at one time wedging ourselves into an impossibly small aisle with a Danish friend of Sam's who lives in the city. But again, the bed felt comfortable at the end of the evening.

Like any great adventure, this one came to an end all too quickly. If you have never visited Barcelona, I suggest you make reservations sometime very soon to discover, as we did, one of the more incredible destinations on the European continent.

Click HERE to see ALL of the photos we took in Barcelona.

Espana!

Every sentence written about Spain should end in an exclamation point (and begin with an upside-down one, if you know your Spanish)! There are few better ways to describe the intensity, beauty, and spice of the country, regardless of how laid back a small Spanish town might appear to the casual observer!

We chose Spain for our Christmas/New Year/Birthday holiday trip, and were rewarded with a very memorable journey! While many Dutch and other Europeans head for warmer winter

 climates, we chose the moderate temps of Espana’s Costa del Sol and were not disappointed! With the sun on our face for all but 1 or 2 days of the trip, we enjoyed a

 leisurely break from Amsterdam life with a wide variety of Spanish experiences!

Malaga was our destination airport, and our home base was the resort town of Fuengirola, a 20 or 30-minute drive from the airport! We wisely chose to rent an apartment unit, which offered us the ability to cook food and use this location as our jumping off point for numerous day trips! Here are the highlights of those trips!

Gibraltar

If you’ve seen the Prudential Insurance logo (Get a Piece of the Rock), you’ve seen an outline of the Rock of Gibraltar! An English territory, Gibraltar isn’t big but is quite impressive, both geologically and historically! We took a van tour to the top of the rock and were treated to siege tunnels (dug by hand in the 1700s to protect the territory from the inevitable Spanish invasion), a colony of legendary Gibraltarian monkeys, and the kids first taste of British fish and chips! It was like a little slice of London, transplanted to southern 

Spain, within 12 miles of the coast of Morocco! The strategic importance of Gibraltar is made very clear as one gazes across the water and envisions 17^th or 18^th century clippers nicely making way at cruising speed en route to points east! One rather curious feature of Gibraltar is the airport: The isthmus is quite narrow and therefore quite restrictive to the size of aircraft that can land (737’s are the upper limit)! The runway bisects the road into Gibraltar, which must be closed when aircraft are taking off or landing! Once the plane passes and is at the gate or in the air, the barricades rise and foot and auto traffic is allowed to pass, traveling directly over the tarmac of the runway!

Ronda

No, it’s not the name of a Beach Boys song! Ronda is an incredible little town nestled in the rolling countryside and deep canyons of inner Andalusia, housing Moorish architecture, a gorgeous town, and Spain’s oldest bullfighting ring! 

The kids loved the bullfighting ring, and I swear that I could feel the ghost of Hemmingway

 

as we sat in the sun and gazed upon the ring! Maya and Cole each had great fun playing the bull to their father’s role of the matador! The bell tolls for thee!*

Mijas

Ah, Mijas! Perhaps the most lovely town of our trip, this small village sits in the hills above Fuengirola and overlooks the Mediterranean and the coast! With winding, steep

 streets, it’s easy—and a whole lot of fun—to get lost amidst the whitewashed buildings and storefronts! Donkeys, colorfully decorated, pull touristas in small carts about the town, but we opted to travel by foot in our explorations! Cole particu

larly enjoyed the delicious candied almonds sold by street vendors! Daddy enjoyed his 40^th birthday lunch in a nice café overlooking the sea, drenched in sunshine, as well as a wine tasting (mmm, Rioja! Grenache! Tempranillo!) in a small, backstreet wine shop! And we all had fun with other families at a kids’ playground perched on one of the town’s highest streets! Mijas!! The town deserves a double dose of exclamations!!

Benalmadena Costa

The best way to see a long, long way on the Costa del Sol is to take a gondola ride from this little village that sits between Fuengirola and Malaga! Up we went in our little cable car, high above the sea and town! At the apex of the ride, we got out and hiked even higher (w

hich didn’t seem possible) and enjoyed another brilliantly sunshiny day! Before heading back down, we were treated to a show from a well-trained Andalusian horse and handler!

Grenada

Well, this town was a bit of a bust for us, the most disappointing of the trip! We had intended to visit the legendary Alhambra, an ancient Moorish fortress, but tickets must be purchased long in advance and when we arrived on 31 December, we were S.O.L. (aka, “outta luck”)! The next day was a holiday, so same story! So, we explored the streets a bit and grabbed dinner at a Chinese restaurant, a heckuva way to celebrate New Year’s Eve! Spaniards have a rather unique New Year’s custom, which involves ingesting one grape on EACH stroke of the clock at midnight! So, BONG!, one grape in the mouth! A second later, BONG!, in goes the second grape, etc. onward to the 12^th stroke of the clock! Happy New Year!, you now have a mouthful of 12 freakin’ grapes to contend with! Hopefully (unlike me) you chose to purchase pit-free or pre-pitted grapes so you’re not crunching grape nuts along with your fruit! The fireworks continued for hours, but we hit the sack out of exhaustion!

Alpujarra

Leaving Grenada, we drove southward to the Sierra Nevada mountains to see the scenery! And oh, were the vistas incredible! The Alpujarra is a series of small towns & villages that dot this incredible landscape, each nestled in a canyon or perched upon a rock outcropping! After buying a bag of deliciously sweet oranges from an old man alongside the winding road (!), we drove up, up, up to the tiny village of Canar, not far from the town of Orgiva! As the kids played at a park, we looked out over the beautiful landscape, listening to the drums of hikers/trekkers from across the nearest valley, and gazed contently at the sheepherder who tended flock just below the village! I wonder if the job of sheepherding comes with health insurance, or if it’s just built into the job description!

Fuengirola

As our host town, we had ample time to enjoy the seaside boardwalk and restaurants! We dined at Italian, Indian, Dutch, and Spanish tapas res

taurants! We shopped in the amazing Spanish supermarket Eroski! And the kids loved playing and exploring the castle that was just ¼ mile from our hotel, with it’s incredible views of the sea, beautiful architecture, and vibrant history! Maya and Cole really enjoyed the steep steps to the castle’s highest parapets (something that would NEVER be allowed in the litigious US society!) and pretending that they were tour guides!

Alas, all vacations must come to an end! A day or two of clouds weren’t enough

 to dampen our spirits or enthusiasm for the people of Spain and their wonderful hospitality and friendliness! Did I mention the paella?!?!!

Click HERE to see ALL of the photos from the trip.

*“If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” –John Donne, 1623

Listen to your parents!

It was an absolutely gorgeous day in Amsterdam today. The sun was shining, the breeze was light, and the crisp winter weather felt good.

Since it's been so cold (as mentioned in the previous post), most of the ponds in Vondelpark are almost completely frozen. I've also noticed today that a few of the smaller canals have formed some ice, too, giving even more hope to the Elfstedentocht dreams!

Since today was the first day of Christmas vacation, and since the weather was so beautiful, we took a bike ride around Vondelpark. The first thing we noticed were all of the people...kids, mostly...treading on the ice. I said to Stacey, "There is no way that I'd let our kids do that. That ice is WAY too thin." The regular wintertime news flashes of my youth, with horrible news of some kid falling through and freezing to death, must have made an impression. I always seem to remember that 4 inches of ice thickness was the ideal for safe ice travels.

So, after a few laps of the park, Stacey took off on her run, leaving Maya, Cole, and I to enjoy the kids' playpark area, which features a large fountain/reflecting pool, now completely frozen over. There were a number of kids playing on the ice, banging away, slipping around, and enjoying stuff that kids do when on the ice. Maya and Cole were instantly attracted to the ice, and I didn't put up a fight...the water is only 8 or 10 inches deep at best, and upon close examination, the ice seemed pretty thick.

But one spot was a bit concerning...there was a 4-foot wide hole near the center of the ice. Of course, I told the kids about 6 times, "Stay away from the water. Stay away from the hole. Stay away from the water."

After about the 7th time, I just quit. And that's when Cole slipped and fell, face first, into the icy cold drink, completely immersing his lower body, his hands, and a good part of his torso.

It all happened so quickly, and the stoic Dutch nearby reacted predictably: I heard just one guy say, "Oh." Everyone stared as I went into full winter survival mode, scooping up a soaking wet 4-year old under one arm and running for my bike, yelling over my shoulder at Maya to run as fast as she could to follow me. After unlocking the bikes in record time, I threw the sobbing Cole on the bike seat and pleaded with Maya to pedal as if she were sprinting for a Tour de France finish line. Fortunately, the ride home took just minutes, and we had Cole in a hot shower in no time.

It sounds pretty serious, but looking back on the unexpected swim, it was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time! Call me cold (or call my son cold, he he), but it was pretty humorous, especially considering our comments just a few minutes prior to the mishap. I wish I could have had it all on videotape!

A good lesson learned on (another) great day in the Netherlands. Listen to your parents!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

And then...the canals froze over.

Not really, but a Dutchman can dream, can’t he?

As the chill has progressively crept into the air above The Netherlands, thoughts have naturally turned toward one of the oldest sports known to the Dutch: Ice skating. When you turn on your television during the next Olympic games, you’ll probably see hoards of Dutch skating fans, decked out in their finest suits of orange, cheering on their nation’s excellent speed skaters. Skating and this country are interchangeable, connected like Canada and maple syrup, Sweden and meatballs, The United States and apple pie.

For the last week or so, the temps have steadily plummeted, making every bike ride around the city—even the short commute to the kids’ school—quite “brisk.” Last weekend, I noticed the first fountain that was partially frozen. Yesterday, a number of the smaller ponds in Vondelpark were frozen over. But the more swiftly moving water of the canals remains fluid.

That’s not stopping our neighbors to the north in the agricultural province of Friesland. This skating-crazy place boasts, besides the world-famous Friesian cows, many skating clubs. Each year when the weather turns cold, it’s a race between the clubs to see which one can host the first ice skating competition of the year, with ice-making specialists huddling and inspecting the ice to determine if the races shall proceed.

The largest competition, called the Elfstendentocht (Eleven Cities Tour), is legendary. I heard about it many years ago when doing research about the world’s greatest tests of endurance.

This 200 kilometer (124 mile) race loops around eleven Frisian cities and features up to 15,000 skaters. It’s allegedly quite the spectacle, made even more special by the fact that since it debuted in 1909, it has been held only 15 times, the last in 1997. It just doesn’t get cold enough, often enough for the race to take place.

If you desire to enter the race, I’ve been told that you need to be a member of one of the numerous skating clubs…either that or do parts of the race unofficially after the official race has passed through.

A man told me the other day that the towns the race passes through become the country’s party-central. Spectators go from pub to pub and café to café, cheering on the skaters, ducking into a pub for a drink, and then back out into the cold again to yell and scream for more skaters. Sounds like fun!

So, the dream continues as we deal with icy canal bridges and freezing winds here in the city. In Friesland and throughout the country, the cold nights are filled, not just with visions of sugar plums and brightly-wrapped gifts of Christmas, but also of the Elfstendentocht, and what might be should the trends of global warming subside for just one wonderful week.

And the Oscar goes to...

I guess it would be a Tony award, actually...for best performance in live theatre. Maya's Year 2 class (the equivalent of 1st grade in the U.S.) but their best feet and voices forward this week with a stunning holiday performance. Maya's class performed a snowman theme skit, and the kids did great.

Maya seems like a natural on the stage, honed with hours of dancing, singing, and generally hamming it up at home. Gee, are we proud parents, or what? It was pretty funny to hear all of the kids deliver their lines on stage. Most accents are British, so when Maya delivered her lines with the bland American accent, the contrast was striking. One of the scene stealers had to come during the Nativity story, when it was revealed to all in the audience that the young man playing the part of the innkeeper was definitely, without question, from the wonderful nation of Scotland. His thick accent was incredible...and wonderful at the same time.Here's a short video of part of the end of the performance. The file is pretty big, so please allow it ample time to load:

...Well, I'll just carry it on my bike!

I knew I'd see it sooner or later: A guy carrying a newly purchased Christmas tree on his bicycle. They carry everything else on bikes, so why not a Christmas tree??

This photo was taken in 1936 in Cardiff (just across the English Channel from our location, mind you), as a postman takes home his new tree. (Photo courtesy Fox Photos/Getty Images). But at least you get the idea.

It makes me wonder if I'll see anyone hauling a plastic reindeer (or a giant bunny on Easter) on the back of their ride.

London Calling

A quick trip to London last weekend for a quick business meeting was refreshing, if not relaxing. It was odd to hear people regularly speaking English in public.

Although my trip there was a quick one, I did manage to see a few sights in the city. Nothing of note really, but then again, London is much more than just Big Ben and the Tower. Her beauty lies in the quirky little neighborhoods, a pub with intense football action on the screen (the local team, Reading, took it to Liverpool on Saturday night), and chip stands & betting parlors on every other block.

I got a good education on London’s tube system, since I utilized it quite a bit during the weekend. Contrary to popular belief, it’s well run, seems (mostly) clean, and was very punctual for me. Strangers were extremely friendly and courteous when asked a question.

But it was good to be back in A’dam on Sunday night, even if it did mean a harrowing late-night bus ride from Centraal Station. The nachtlijn (“night line”) starts running if it’s too late for the trams to operate, and this particular bus driver made me feel like I was on the L.A. city bus in the Keanu Reeves movie “Speed.” This guy was cruising through central Amsterdam doing around 45 or 50 miles per hour in a long articulated bus. Pedestrians must have been shrieking in horror, but I can’t tell you…I was holding on for dear life in one of the middle rows, praying that I’d make it to Leidseplein and live to tell about it. Or, perhaps late-night A’dammers are accustomed to seeing the crazy bus drivers make their rounds. Note to self: Beware the nachtlijn as I step from the curb after a few late-night Heinekens.

The Race is On…To the Castle

It was time to get back on the horse, metaphorically speaking. I had not toed a starting line of any sort of race since Badwater in July, so I registered for a 15 km running race (9.3 miles) located in the oddly-named town of ‘s-Heerenberg, about 80 miles east of Amsterdam, on the German border. Click HERE to read all of the sordid details of the race.

We had foolishly expected another sunny day (see previous post about our trip to Texel Island), but we're we wrong! It was rained buckets most of the day. Stacey and the kids hung out in a snack shop during the race, but they were already soaked to the bone.

Luckily, the adventure was worth the drive. After the race and a warm shower for Dad, it was on to the family portion of our daily program, a visit to ‘s-Heerenberg’s biggest tourist attraction…

…a medieval CASTLE.

The kids were thrilled, even at the mention of the castle (that’s actually how we “sold” the trip to them). Cole was obsessed with questions about the bad guys, and loved trying on pieces of the armor and holding swords. Maya kept trying to figure out where the king and queen slept, ate, etc. (and princesses/princes as well), but she really loved the armor and skeletons a lot too. The Kasteel Huis Bergh is surrounded by a moat, and it’s a building that goes back as far as the 13^th century. It’s filled with an impressive collection of early Italian paintings, medieval manuscripts, and an immense collection of period coins.

But the structure itself was the most impressive feature. We were treated to a private tour of the castle tower, where we were able to hold replica swords. Here are the kids trying out some Spanish-style armor:

Winding staircases and narrow passageways led us to the roof of the tower, where visitors are treated to an impressive view of the town and surrounding countryside. It’s not too difficult to imagine that you are a 14^th-century sentry on the lookout for marauders.

Check out the castle online at www.huisbergh.nl

An Island Vacation

Who says that islands have to be tropical to be fun? I’m sure they have a lot of fun in Iceland, and that’s an island. Same with Prince Edward Island and the Aleutians.

What The Netherlands lacks in warmth this time of year, they make up in scenery that can take your breath away. Sometime last week, I read in a travel magazine about the beauty of Texel Island, located about an hour drive north of Amsterdam. On Saturday, we made the spontaneous decision to make the journey.

[The previous day, Nike threw a Sinterklaas party for the children of employees, and it was quite a chaotic event. The entire program was in Dutch, but the kids didn’t seem to mind since they’ve learned all the Sinterklaas songs in Dutch at school. As we've mentioned in the previous Sinterklaas post, one tradition is that Zwart Piet hands out little cookies ("peppernoten") to the children, and these Zwart Piets were making a game of it, throwing handfuls into the air throughout the room during the party. Cole particularly loves them, and was eating them hand over fist. The party ended with a gift given to every child, organized by age groups and gender - a Jasmine Barbie doll for Maya and some trucks for Cole. We capped off the evening in a decidedly Dutch manner by having dinner in a Panekoeken house with some friends.]

Saturday dawned brilliantly sunny, as we set out for the town of Den Helder, where, we boarded a ferry for the brief 20-minute float across the water. And once on Texel, we quickly saw why the magazine had rated the island so highly. Small, quaint villages dotted the landscape, but the feature we enjoyed most was the beach that gave us incredible panoramas of the wild and wooly North Sea. The wind was a bit harsh, so we didn’t stay long on the sand, but the hike from the road to the water and back was great fun. The nice 50 degree F weather certainly helped.

The journey back home was fairly uneventful, but the drive alone was a nice way to spend a Saturday. When you’re a foreigner in a foreign land, every curve in the road holds an adventure.

Goldilocks and the 3 Bears

The young ladies and gentlemen from Miss Everson's British School of Amsterdam's Reception classroom promised a hearty rendition of the classic "Goldilocks & the 3 Bears" and "Billy Goats Gruff" stories, and they delivered with performances that were Oscar (Meyer Wiener) worthy.

Cole had the distinction of playing the role of Baby Bear, while his good friend Sonia played the lead role of Goldilocks. Eschewing the blond wig for her naturally exquisite jet-black hair, Sonia was captivating as she tasted porridge, sat in chairs, and tested beds. Cole was equally convincing with his performance as the youngest of the three Ursidae, exclaiming in shocked horror when he discovered that a young girl was still sleeping in his bed.

Daddy takes full responsibility for the lameness of the young Mr. Pressler's bear costume, but in my defense, have you ever lived in Amsterdam for a month and tried to track down a bear costume for a 4-year old? I didn't think so. His teacher came to the rescue with the application of face paint and some fabulous bear ears. A furry scarf that I found at a market completed the kit.

Congrats to all of the students for a very fine performance indeed!

Sinterklaas & Zwart Piet

Nothing quite says “Christmas” like reggae music and blackfaced court jesters!

Most European cultures have their own holiday traditions, and the Dutch are no different. Every year, “Sinterklaas,” a tall, white-bearded bishop with a red cape, arrives in the Netherlands from his home in Spain. The day after his arrival, he makes his way to Amsterdam, first on a boat via the Amstel River, and then on the back of a white horse through the middle of the city.

Of course, Sinterklaas has his helper, Zwart Piet (“Black Pete”), in tow. ZP, as I’ll call him, was once upon a time a slave. Now, ZP’s black face is explained by parents as the “soot that he gets when he comes down the chimney.”

Sinter and ZP travel across the country, landing on rooftops on the white horse, then coming down the chimney to leave chocolates and almonds, etc. for the children who have behaved well. The kids are encouraged to leave carrots and straw to feed the horse.

The troubling part of the deal is ZP. For whatever reason, ZP is a Caucasian person wearing “blackface” painting. It’s more than unnerving, and for most Americans (I think) borders on being outright offensive. And there’s not just one ZP. The official ZP crew appears to be two or three, but every single helper, entertainer, driver, band instrument player, parade horse shit scooper, side of the building rapeller, and acrobat is outfitted in the standard ZP garb: A multicolored, silk court jester outfit, complete with feathered hat. Go ahead, Google “Zwart Piet” and see what you find and make your own call!

Anyway, back to this past Sunday, when we took the kids to the Dam square in Amsterdam Centrum to witness Sinterklaas’s arrival. As a reggae band (?) performed traditional “WE LOVE YOU, SINTERKLAAS!” songs, the kids had a blast, especially since the legions of ZPs hand out the traditional Sinterklaas cookie, the pepernoten. These are little crunchy ginger cookies (not to be confused with the German pfeffernusse) are handed out in the Netherlands and Belgium, carried in enormous burlap sacks. All of the kids along the parade route can be heard screaming “Piet! Piet!” so they can get a few handfuls. Plus, the weather was beautiful.

Here's a short video clip that I captured of the man himself riding into Dam square:

We’re settling in well, with most of our furniture in place…we’re just awaiting the delivery of our family room couches from Ikea. A bunch of boxes still need to be unpacked, which might take a bit of time to complete.

I took my road bike out of Amsterdam for a 50k (31-mile) jaunt today, and really enjoyed some beautiful pastoral scenery. I’ll have much more on the Amsterdam cycling scene in an upcoming post.

Tomorrow: Another meeting with government officials to get residency cards; finding a chiropractor; finalizing Christmas travel plans.