Homeybird

Magazin

2013-03-07T12:41:00.000+01:00

What do a camerawoman, an infotainment writer, and an anthropologist have in common?

For one, they all love shopping. According to Barbara, not entirely tongue-in-cheek, "Shopping is not as easy as it sounds and the three of us have it down to an art." I can agree to that, judging from their three-and-a-half-month old shop in Czaar Peterstraat.

Czaar Peterstraat 104, 1018PS Amsterdam, http://www.magazinamsterdam.nl/

Now that I see my photo above, I have to confess that I forgot to ask Mirjam and Barbara last Saturday what Mara3NH means, so let's just call the shop Magazin.

L-R: Barbara, Mirjam, Margo (third partner is not in the photo)

The third thing these ladies share are not only a love for shopping and Magazin, but also more importantly I think, more than twenty years of friendship. Late last year, they embarked on a new adventure together when they officially opened their doors to the public in mid-November. After getting the keys on November 2, they gave themselves two weeks to get the shop ready because they wanted to take advantage of Sinterklaas and the Christmas season, a shrewd decision which gave them an encouraging start.

The articles in the shop show a predilection for design aesthetics, but overriding that is a philosophy for things which are fair trade, sustainable, eco, recycled. This philosophy is the fourth thing that these friends share, but Barbara said that it has been Mirjam's creative sensibility that has given the shop its tangible identity.

Acacia bowls from the Philippines

Felt bags from Nepal

While I was there that Saturday, there was a steady stream of customers coming into the shop. I like that. People like Mirjam, Barbara and Margo who dare to invest time, money and effort in this time of economic malaise and who show optimism in this dismal climate, deserve to succeed.

In fact, this is the reason why I write about them and others like them. Czaar Peterstraat has my preference because this is in my neighborhood and I've seen this street change for the better over the last decade. Shops like Magazin have given a lively feel to the community. There are no huge, commercial establishments here but small, unique, boutique shops which have a lot to offer if you care to look.

More about Czaar Peterstraat --

Czaar Peterstraat in Amsterdam
Czaar Peterstraat, Part 2
Mondo Mediterraneo

Repair Café

2013-02-20T14:41:00.003+01:00

I was quite excited to see this banner outside the community center last January. I learned that they are in the neighborhood every first Wednesday of the month.

I had in mind my high-tech Swiss coffee machine given by a cousin. It just died on me without saying goodbye and after googling where and how I could have this repaired, I had decided just to let it rest in peace after learning how much it would cost to have it fixed. The diagnosis alone would cost more than €100, whether they would be able to fix it or not.

Now for hardcore coffee drinkers, a couple of hundred Euros may not seem much but since I just started drinking coffee regularly when I got that machine anyway, it seemed exorbitant to me.

So what's the connection between Repair Café and my coffee machine? I was toying with the idea of bringing it over there to hopefully have someone give it a second life.

When the first Wednesday of February ambled in, I went there to orient myself with what this thing was all about, this time in person since I had learned quite a bit about it from the Internet. I didn't lug my machine there because I was more interested in getting to know the people behind the Repair Café in my community.

Four volunteers were there - Antje who was responsible for repairing clothes by hand, Jos and Bert who were responsible for electrical stuff, and Naima who was responsible for administrative tasks.

Bert

Jos

Antje to the left of Bert

Antje said, "We are looking for someone who could do clothes repair using a sewing machine. Can you do that?"

"Sorry, my skills lie elsewhere. I am a computer-savvy communications specialist. Do you have some use for that skill here?"

Customers started coming in slowly but one had been there before I arrived and she was waiting for Bert to finish repairing her water cooker. She ducked every time I took a photo so I tried to take shots around her.

Another customer came in and had no problem having his photo taken. He brought in his mom's broken toaster and his work tool. He came because his brother visited last month with his coffee machine and his son's toy car. The car got fixed but the machine not. Note to myself: Bury your coffee machine.

While I was winding up, Bert asked me if I could design a work order form for them. "I could do that," I said. He said while taking out his agenda, "Can you come back on March 6 then, say about 1:45 pm?" That appointment is now in MY agenda.

Before I left, Naima asked me if I could help them with their web page.

"Sure, I can make photos and write for you. In English," I added.

"Maybe you could practice your written Dutch," she suggested.

"Duh." I've got too many other things I'd like to do right now and perfecting my written Dutch is not something on my list. So anyone out there who is willing to translate what I write in Dutch, please leave me a message below.

The Repair Café was conceived in 2009 by Martine Potsma and was born in the foyer of an Amsterdam theater. People in the community brought in things that needed repair - toasters, broken lamps, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers, torn clothes, and many more. There were people also from the community who were ready to help them repair the stuff. These were handy volunteers, mostly older people who have the skills and time on their hands.

What started out as an environmental and sustainability project to reduce waste has become more than just that. It has also become a way to maintain knowledge of repairing and a means by which a neighborhood can strengthen social cohesion.

Now you will find Repair Cafés in Belgium, Germany, the UK, the US, Brazil and Australia. Who knows, you may find one in your neighborhood.

A Bird's Life Christmas

2012-12-18T19:52:00.001+01:00

I decided to have a Christmas tree at home, my first-ever which I am fully responsible for and that's saying a lot considering my age. I suddenly thought that it was time. So off we went, hubby and I, to the corner by the neighborhood church where florist Rinus was selling trees.

These clients had priority.

I had actually no idea what I was supposed to do. All my life, what I was acquainted with were the artificial ones but there was no time to dilly-dally. Standing there in the middle of all the trees, I got suddenly cross-eyed. No help from hubby either, who was more clueless than I.

There was Rinus rattling off prices and names of the pines. Almost desperate, I latched on to one tree, pointed my finger decisively and said: "Him." While instructions about how to take care of the tree went at a fast clip, I fished out my bill and paid. Hubby was responsible for lugging the new addition to our household all the way home, hugging it like a baby, a big and heavy one.

Rinus made a sale and prepared the tree.

Rinus said that if it's your first tree, you have to pay it yourself. Good thing I brought some money.

Hubby carried our tree home and was happy we got home when we did because his arms were ready to drop off.

I could only do so much when we got home since I just have no huge stash of Christmas decors. All I had were stars made of shell from the Philippines, cloisonne bells from Hong Kong, and some baubles from the years gone by. I bought the lights yesterday with the help of my mate Patricia. Good thing she was there to give some good advice. To fill up the tree, I decided to make origami cranes which I learned to do a couple of weeks ago. With the help of YouTube, I was able to make the tree topper, a Congratulations crane. Very fitting, considering that my web shop A Bird's Life is finally up after waiting for it for a year!

A week before Christmas and we made it. Our very own tree.

I wish one and all a very Merry Christmas. Enjoy the holidays spending time with your family and friends. Here's to a full life ahead, light to guide you, love to enfold you and peace in your heart to deal with whatever comes your way with awareness and grace.

Climate Oxide

2012-10-31T12:18:00.001+01:00

Several days ago I found an announcement about an exhibition which piqued my interest - Climate Oxide.

The description went as follows,

"Climate Oxide is a new visual art project, opening in Amsterdam on Friday, 19 October at the Kunstkerk, Prinseneiland, that uses photography, steel, and rust to interpret the corrosion of our environment...The exhibition is meant to raise awareness and to offer a cross-experience between art and activism......they provide a personalised perspective of global climate issues for their audience."

This video "The Making of Climate Oxide" clinched it for me. I had to go.

Climate Oxide - Trailer from Robert van Waarden on Vimeo.

After agreeing to meet up with hubby in the exhibition, I made my way slowly to the Kunstkerk, taking some photos of beautiful Prinseneiland along the way.

Prinseneiland, where the Kunstkerk is located. In the early 17th century, this
island was used to store wood and tar. Now it is a place where people live and work.

Entrance to the Kunstkerk

The two artists photographer Robert van Waarden and industrial designer Shiva Rimal were there, and we had the luxury of having them all to ourselves.

Two very special young men, energetic, driven, committed and passionate, use their talents to express themselves, each in his own way creating art to convey their admiration for the world they see while at the same time sharing the message that we should respect it, that we should stop abusing it, and that we should try our very best to heal it.

Hubby and I had a wonderful long talk with them, learning about their collaboration, how they married the two art forms, the techniques they used, the places they visited, the people they met, the experiences along the way, their individual journeys that brought them to this place. As Robert said, "When we start to voice our dreams and our desire to collaborate, we discover that the sum is greater than the parts."

All in all, it was a very special afternoon.

Read more about Climate Oxide, the two men and their works by clicking on their names below -

Robert van Waarden

Shiva Rimal

Take 1: I moved back so I wouldn't cut off Robert's head. The moment I clicked,
Shiva and Robert started clowning around

Take 2: Much better, guys! This art work between them is hubby's and my
favorite piece because it shows very clearly the beauty of the trees
and the impact of man's deadly deeds. See below.

"Pine Trees, Banff National Park, Canada - In recent years the Mountain Pine Beetle
in Canada has infected an area four times the size of the Netherlands. The small,
seemingly harmless beetle can infect and kill an adult pine tree in as little as
three weeks. It has killed swathes of trees in British Columbia, turning the once
green Lodgepole Pine forest into a burning red.

It is about to get much worse. As the beetle moves East, over the Rocky Mountains
and into Alberta, it will likely infect the Jackpine boreal forest, a huge expanse of
forest that stretches across Canada from East to West.

Climate change has been largely responsible for the pine beetle outbreak. Extended
cold winters previously kept the beetle population in check, but with their
disappearance, the beetle population has exploded.

Naturally the pine beetle infestation has social and economic impacts. Recent
estimates predict over half of the forestry jobs in British Columbia will disappear
by 2014. However, there is a larger problem associated with the pine beetle
infestation. As the trees are killed one by one, the boreal forest, a key global
carbon sink, is turning into a carbon emitter. This feedback loop is only going
to further exacerbate the climate change that we have started."

Fairy Tale Forests

2012-10-22T17:08:00.000+02:00

I dragged a willing husband to two forests the last couple of weekends not because walking in the woods is a healthy thing to do (hubby's take on this activity) but because I, having grown up reading tales written by Brothers Grimm and Mr. Andersen, was looking for proof of the existence of elves, sprites, pixies, fairies, dwarves, giants, dragons, unicorns, witches and other magical creatures who live in these places.

Also there was this practical business of gathering pine cones and acorns because it has struck my fancy to make my own Christmas decor this December. Never mind that I'm not a DIY, arty, crafty kind of person who has never had any experience with such stuff. I've got this romantic notion that if I have imagination, I can make something fitting the Yuletide season. If it's too difficult, a last resort could always be to buy some glitter and to glue that to my collection.

Conclusion? Mission accomplished.

I did find my proof, I did find my pine cones and acorns, and last but most important, I found my magic.

My proof that forest creatures exist

My stash of pine cones and acorns complete with creepy-crawlies

My magic

Czaar Peterstraat, Part 2

2012-10-11T23:29:00.000+02:00

Specialty shops are coming up in different parts of the city, those that carry goods for the new consumer who prefer sustainable, fair trade, organic, green, homemade, environmentally friendly, not animal-tested, not genetically modified, or just simply special...you get the picture. Well, I'm a sucker for them too not because I'm the "new consumer" exactly but just because.

This post is a continuation of my discovery of Czaar Peterstraat.

Olie & Zo

Hubby and I popped in there on our way to dinner with friends at their home one night. I had my eye on that shop a few weeks back so now was my chance to sniff around. Small and cozy with a charming proprietress Debby, the shop carries olive oil, salad vinegars, delicatessen, bread and cake. Debby also serves lunch and accepts catering jobs. A pity there was no lemon tart left but at least the shop is so close to home.

After getting my bottle of olive oil and 9-year old balsamic vinegar, plus the photos I wanted for you guys to check out, we got on our bikes and went on our way to spend a lovely evening with friends.

Salad vinegars

Olive oil

Delicatessen

Cute bowls

Debby

The front part of the shop

The day's offering

Henk Willemse

2012-10-08T13:59:00.000+02:00

I was waiting for my friend Patricia at the corner by the neighborhood church when I saw her coming towards me. As she passed by the church, she turned her head towards the open door and hesitated. That short hesitation was enough to propel me towards her with the question, "What's going on in there? Shall we go in?"

The Oosterkerk had not been used for religious services since I moved in this part of Amsterdam eight years ago but was used as an office, or for concerts or neighborhood activities. This time it was an art exhibit.

Quietly we walked around the area and looked at the paintings of Henk Willemse. I quickly picked out the ones I liked -

Before leaving, we went to the woman who was sitting behind a table with books and information materials about the artist Henk Willemse. Blonde, tall, with smiling eyes and lips that curved upwards at the corners, she had this gentle and charming aura about her. Of course, me being me, I began asking her questions after thanking her.

Hendrickje with a self-portrait of her father hanging behind her.

Her name was Hendrickje Willemse and those were her father's work. The painting of the boy with the cat was of her brother Wouter, who had passed away. We learned that she had organized the exhibition to honor her father's memory, and that Wouter had relied on her to make it a reality. After 30 years of Henk Willemse's works rarely being seen in public, the art world barely knew him. His paintings were stored or hung in her home which was located also in the neighborhood.

She said she had joined the TV program Cash op Zolder, similar to Cash in the Attic of the BBC, to raise funds to be able to mount this exhibit. The TV broadcast is below (in Dutch, no English subtitles).

Bekijk de video in andere formaten.

With items she put up for auction, some of them her father's works, she was able to raise the funds she needed, in the end raising almost double her target.

I was happy for Hendrickje that she was able to realize her dream. You could see she was deeply happy about it too, being successful in bringing her dear father's works out into the light again for the world to see.

The exhibition runs until October 15 in the beautiful Oosterkerk in Amsterdam. For more details, check out Henk Willemse's website.

Oostelijke Eilanden

2012-10-03T17:41:00.003+02:00

I keep thinking it and keep saying it often: I LOVE MY NEIGHBORHOOD!

I live in Centrum Oost in the Oostelijke Eilanden, close to the Oosterkerk, Scheepvaartsmuseum, NEMO, Brouwerij 't IJ, Dappermarkt, Tropenmuseum, and, and, and...

I have many favorite routes for walks around the neighborhood. What appeals to me is that there are flowers everywhere you go. People love them and they plant them in small plots of land along walls of buildings or in between them, in small gardens, big gardens, terrace gardens, roof gardens, pocket gardens, parks, by doors, on window sills or hanging outside windows, on stairs leading to apartments, in houseboats, on structures floating on water...

But I'm curious, maybe I was a cat in a former lifetime, and I wonder who those people are who toil to plant these beauties. I met one a few months ago. She's Truus Dekker and I wrote about her here (click link).

Yesteday I showed my mate Patricia some of my fave spots in the neighborhood. Beside the garden of Truus is another one which had potatoes planted in tires a few months ago, something about sustainability. There was someone bent over the garden, very focused on the task he was doing. Don't ask me what he was doing? I don't know anything about gardening. I saw his dog, which I imagined to be a boxer since I don't know much about dogs either, and she had a lamp shade around her head.

So I asked, "Why does your dog have a lamp shade?" The guy looked up, for a moment looking like I took him out of his dream world, "Why does he have a lamp shade?" A short pause, "Because she's a designer dog." Good answer, I thought. (In the meantime, I have learned that the lamp shade is called an Elizabethan collar or cone that prevents the animal from scratching or licking a wound so that it can heal.)

Off I went then with my gazillion questions, what his name was, how that was spelt, where he lived, what he did when he was not gardening, how often he worked on the garden, where the potatoes were, had he harvested and eaten them already. I also confessed that I had been to his garden and had taken a lot of photos. In fact, my cover photo on my facebook timeline for the last couple of days was his garden in spring.

His garden in spring, a cover photo in my facebook timeline

Yesterday I saw he had pumpkins. To welcome Autumn, I guess.

The pumpkins made me decide to give him my card. A guy who knows about gardens, plants such wonderful flowers, makes a place look so friendly, welcoming and gezellig, and decorates it with pumpkins because Autumn arrived, must have a beautiful soul.

So without any trepidation, I handed him my contact details with a flourish and the words, "Tomas, if you ever need help with your garden, give me a call."

See those pumpkins on the table? Well, they made me trust Tomas.

Czaar Peterstraat in Amsterdam

2012-10-02T22:21:00.002+02:00

A lot has happened in Czaar Peterstraat since I moved close to this area eight years ago. Now the buildings have undergone major make-overs, a tram running east to west of the city center makes the place accessible, and new or renovated shops are now calling the street their home.

Here are three places I visited -

De Czaar Kappers

I went there for a haircut and was met by Luna, who offered me tea and then shampooed my hair. Kenneth did the cutting after listening closely to my spiel: "I would like a wash-and-wear 'do because I don't know how to style my hair which doesn't behave."

So with his sharp scissors, he got going snipping here and there. He proceeded to give me some tips, finger-combed my hair while drying it. I went out of there with instructions NOT to towel-dry my hair and NOT to comb it. I'm surprised it works.

Juwelig

After the cut, I went to the jewelry shop a few doors down and chatted with the owner and jeweler Annette. Her shop is new, bright and modern. I spent more time talking to Annette than looking at the jewelry because I wanted to come back with a good friend.

We did come back but then the shop was being used for a commercial shoot so it wasn't a good time. One of these days, I'm going to visit Annette's shop again.

Helena Primakoff

Yesterday I visited this place with a friend. This cute cafe serves breakfast and lunch and is full of delightful details. I'm definitely going back. It's a cozy place and the food is good. Well, at least I know that their brown tosti with avocado, cheese and mango chutney is good. So are the brownie, apple pie and coffee.

I'll be visiting Czaar Peterstraat again soon to go to more places. I'll let you know about those too.

Doei.

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Update 3 October 2012, in response to a comment:

Arlene left a comment below that she's missing photos of my new 'do, the jewels and the food. Well, I can provide a photo of my cappuccino and the brownie I ate, which was perfect - a tad bitter, with a bite on the outside and moist on the inside. Yum!

De Witte Boei in Amsterdam

2012-09-24T14:21:00.003+02:00

De Witte Boei (The White Buoy) is the community center in my neighborhood in Centrum Oost in Amsterdam, and is now called Huis van de Buurt. It had its official opening last Saturday after months of renovation, and now it looks like a middle-aged lady which had a general make-over. Despite the 70's tinge to her, she looks comfortably attractive with her lick of paint. The best bits of her are on the inside though so it's not only cosmetic changes we're talking about here but an overhaul of what's essential.

Don't quote me on this, but I think there are now five organizations/desks to be found there:

Wijkcentrum - for support of residents and community groups who are committed to their neighborhood, providing information and expert advice on grants and other facilities
CentraM - for social services
Wijksteunpunt Wonen Centrum - for information, advice and support on rental and housing
IJsterk Actief Burgerschap & Participatie - for support on demand-oriented activities and courses for all ages, a place for your group or club to meet
Sociaal Loket (stadsdeel) - for questions or reports on health care, housing or welfare

Before the official opening, the place was used as a polling station for the general elections a couple of weeks ago. That was great since it was brightly lit, adequately manned, and it took only two minutes to cast your vote!

There's always something going on in there - the community choir practice, the three-course dinner every fortnight for the neighborhood for a very good price, art activities, handicraft meetings, bingo, and consultation for people in the community.

Hmm, this makes me wonder whether I should go there and do some volunteer work.

See for yourself how last Saturday's opening looked like.

Trees

2012-09-21T17:06:00.000+02:00

There has been a long silence since my last post, long at least for me. In the meantime, life is happening and there are many things to share. But I don't want to share anything about my life right now.

Instead, I want to share these words by Herman Hesse, which he wrote in his work Trees: Reflections and Poems. They're beautiful words, strung together like luminous pearls. They invite us to look at trees in a different way and make us hope that one day perhaps we too will have the kind of silent, innate wisdom they possess.

And maybe, just maybe, we will find our way home.

"For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. . . . Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness."

Impressionism: Sensation & Inspiration

2012-09-05T09:00:00.000+02:00

A collage of some postcards I bought from the Hermitage Museum Shop (not all these works
are shown in the exhibition but there are many exciting works there, description below)

What a beautiful exhibition! I suggest you go to the Hermitage if you are in Amsterdam and spend several hours feasting your eyes on the breathtaking masterpieces by Monet, Renoir, Sisley, Pissarro, Delacroix, Gérôme, and many more, which have been borrowed from the Hermitage in St. Petersburg.

Of course, I am unashamedly biased since Impressionism is my most favorite art movement and Vincent van Gogh my most favorite painter, who himself was inspired by the Impressionists.

I love the light, the colors, the intensity, the freedom from the rigid and disciplined classicism, allowing textures of paint to come out and not having to tame and smooth them into subservience. I love the painting of nature, the moving away from biblical or mythological themes, the abandonment of traditional linear perspective, even the avoidance of clarity of form. I love the thought of the artists going out into an open-air location, the streets or the countryside or even having a boat for a studio, to capture a moment.

Transient. Ephemeral. Momentary. Fleeting. Life.

This exhibition ends on 13 January 2013. If you plan to go, then go on a Saturday when a 45-minute workshop takes place in the auditorium at 2 pm which delves deeper into the exhibition themes, or during the first or last Sunday of the month when you can listen to a concert in the Kerkzaal. However, if you want to avoid a crowd, it's better to go during a weekday, preferably on that particular Wednesday in the month when they hold a special program.

If you can't visit on those days when there is an activity going on, go anyway. I strongly recommend you take advantage of the audio tour. You can borrow the equipment for €4 at the reception area.

Go ahead. It will be a feast. I promise.

(Photos: from upper left, clockwise: Henri Matisse, The Red Room | Wassily Kandinksy, Murnau. Study for Landscape with Green House | Claude Monet, Regatta at Argenteuil | Paul Gauguin, Woman with Fruit | Vincent van Gogh, Memories of the Garden at Etten | Paul Gauguin, At the Foot of the Mountain | Claude Monet, Amsterdam Canal | Alphonse Marie de Neuville, Street in the Old Town | middle: Claude Monet, Tulip-Field with Mill in Holland)

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall...

2012-09-02T10:59:00.003+02:00

Despite living in Europe for more than a decade now, I still marvel at the change in seasons, something quite fascinating to a tropical girl.

It didn't seem so long ago that the citizenry was abuzz with the euphoria of frozen canals which happy campers came out in droves to skate on when the ice was thick enough.

Winter, 11 February 2012

Then faster than a blink of an eye it seemed, the flowers pushed their way out of a a thawing earth and showed their gorgeous heads, first with the pioneers valiantly pushing their way through then as the days passed, with more of them coming forward in great numbers to stand up and be counted, all bright and beautiful and vibrant, scenting the air with their heady smells.

Spring, 16 April 2012

Summer has been a moody one this year with daylight dominating the 24-hour stretch. The sun has been on overtime, coming out early and clocking out late. Summer has given us sizzling hot days when one is left lethargically gasping for breath in the shade, and really stormy ones in gorgeous sensurround theatrics of fat raindrops pelting the earth with great enthusiasm, thunderous explosions and flashy lightning bolts.

Summer, 15 August 2012

She's not here yet but I can feel Fall waiting in the wings, poised on her toes, ready to make a soft, hushed but dramatic entrance as she brings her own magic. She'll turn the lights down low, cover the world with her mantle of russet hues, tell anodyne tales to prepare the earth for slumber.

Soon. She'll be here soon.

One year in 40 seconds from Eirik Solheim on Vimeo.

De Krat

2012-08-31T13:53:00.001+02:00

Photo: De Krat

I'd like to think our household is one of those modern consumers who thinks about the environment, fair trade, and brands with an ethos. It's the reason why we buy eggs or meat from free range sources, fair trade products, why we turn off the lights when not in use, and recycle stuff when we can (although hubby thinks I'm too much of a pack rat).

But then sometimes ethical considerations just give way to practicality. And there I go, buying frozen shrimps from the Chinese toko (store) just because they're so much cheaper than AH's puur & eerlijk duurzame vangst garnalen (pure and honest sustainable shrimp catch, literally).

Let's just say then that we are modern-consumers-in-the-making, with good intentions but with a lot of room for improvement.

I feel that one step in the right direction is the awareness about ethical issues that we consumers are faced with. Is this fruit in season? Was this vegetable fertilized with chemicals? Was child labor used in the production of this article? Was animal testing used for this cosmetic?

For me, one of the best ways to practice ethical consumption and to circumvent the minefields out there is De Krat.

De Krat is a local business that positions itself as a supplier of fair and locally grown commodities. "Honest food delivered to your home." "From the farmer to your kitchen table, in a (recycled) wooden crate." What's not to like?

Don't take my word for it though. If you live in Amsterdam and some surrounding areas, try it out for yourself. They have a trial subscription.

Oh by the way, if you are not particularly enamored with worms and grit, these do come free-of-charge with your crate. But having them in the crate is a small price to pay for such delicious and fresh food.

As for me, I'm happy they're back from vacation, de Krat that is, not the worms. I got my delivery today.

Today's crate with sourdough bread from Menno

Rainbow carrots from Wim Schoemaker, Zwijndrecht, Frieslander potatoes from Zaltbommel,
wild oregano olive oil from Walter Abma

Lollo Biondo from Klaas de Vries, Heemskerk, green beans from Veld, Zuid Beijerland, sweet corn from
Groene hart cooperatie, thyme from Kwekerij Osdorp, hamburgers from Waterlant's Weelde

Strawberries from Zaltbommel

Mixed cherry tomatoes from Kwekerij Osdorp

Lunch salad from moi. Avocado, mango, green onion, goat cheese with honey, and lime from own supply,
lettuce, tomatoes and olive oil from De Krat.

Vlieland

2012-08-24T13:27:00.003+02:00

Wikipedia

Vlieland is one of my favorite West Frisian islands lying off the Dutch coast in the North Sea. There are 5 major islands, Texel, Vlieland, Terschelling, Ameland and Schiermonnikoog, and I have three favorites. Texel is an island I like but I don't count as a favorite because there are too many people, which is a hyperbole especially by Amsterdam standards. And Terschelling I cannot say anything about because I've never been there.

Why do I love the islands? Many reasons - kilometers of beaches with fine sand, clear waters, the dunes, the bike rides, woodlands, the laid-back life. Most of all, because they remind me of sunny vacations in my childhood when we used to go to many of the marvelous beaches in my home country, and the bubbly, tingling feelings that those memories bring.

When hubby said last week that he wanted to spend the weekend in Vlieland when the weather was expected to be hot and sunny, I was delighted. He booked, we went, and had the promise of a great weekend fulfilled.

Thank you, Henry!

Harlingen, more than a hundred km from Amsterdam, where we took the boat to Vlieland

We had breakfast on the boat which left Harlingen at 9 am.

Because it was too last-minute, hubby was almost not able to book a room but here he got lucky.
We had two very delicious dinners in this terrace and the service was excellent!

Outside the village florist's store

A stall selling smoked sardines

Fun, fun, fun at the beach

Flying a kite

The local residents had to share the beach with the tourists.

Teenagers went horseback riding

Some were having a blast with blokarting

Hundreds of tiny starfish got stranded on the shore as the tide brought them in. Dozens of adults and children
were picking them up to bring them back in the water.

Black crows guarding our bikes

Playing Hookey

2012-08-15T23:18:00.001+02:00

My bag hanging from the fence protecting the dunes and my red flip-flops

Because of his work, hubby and I have no chance to get away for a few weeks of vacation this summer. While family, friends and acquaintances have been making the seasonal pilgrimage to foreign lands in the last weeks, we are bound here in Amsterdam. I don't mind this at all. This huismus loves her home and adores her city. "No problemo," I said to hubby.

While I was tapping happily away on my laptop this morning, he came in and said, "Wanna go to the beach today?" "Really? Seriously?" I asked. Looking at him, I saw that he had this mischievous glint in his blue eyes. Oh yeah, he was serious alright. Exciting!

Quickly glancing at my calendar, I saw that I could shove things around. Getting ready was a quick affair. That's one of the things I love about going to the beach, being so happily sloppy. Because of a bad cut, I've got this hair that just doesn't behave so I shoved it under a bandana. Rifling through my drawers, I finally pulled out a swimsuit that didn't bite into me because it had shrunk in the wash. Wink. Wink. On came my shell necklace from my very distant past, my avatar wooden bracelet which my friend Amy gave me in Palawan, my red flip-flops which sister Cora gave me years ago. A loose shirt and capri pants finished the outfit.

Parasol, check. Beach towels, check. Sandwiches, check. Book, check. Sunglasses, check. Comb, check. Money, tissue, baby powder. Check, check, check.

Bright, beautiful, marvelous, glorious, sunny day! The parking lot was almost full when we got there. First a satisfying, totally unhealthy, fully fried lunch at the beach restaurant, then a long walk to get to a place where there were not too many people to ruin the view. We staked our piece of heaven in between two groups of nudists and had the dunes behind us for protection.

Aside from running after the parasol a few times and having sand sprinkled generously all over our faces by the flirty wind, it was an absolutely uneventful fantastic day!

Here's what happened.

Lunch at the beach restaurant

Walking away from this busy area

Walking by this man who was doing a watercolor painting in the middle of it all

And the man was sitting just beside this masterpiece freshly made by a few kids

Henry tried to drive the parasol deep into the sand.
I needed the shade desperately because I have sun allergies.

Our very own place in paradise between two nudist couples

Playing footsie

My paraphernalia

After the nth time of being blown away, Henry shortened the parasol and I held on to it.

On the way home, I was glad I had brought another shirt because the sea was cccccoooooolddd
and the wind was picking up!

I tried windsurfing years ago in Palawan. Conclusion: not one of my successes in life.

Catamarans

The chariots of the lifeguards

Suddenly, the sun was covered by a solid phalanx of dark clouds. We made it to the car just in time.

A Pocket Garden

2012-08-06T12:58:00.002+02:00

And where the marjoram once, and sage, and rue,

And balm, and mint, with curl'd-leaf parsley grew,

And double marigolds, and silver thyme,

And pumpkins 'neath the window climb;

And where I often, when a child, for hours

Tried through the pales to get the tempting flowers,

As lady's laces, everlasting peas,

True-love-lies-bleeding, with the hearts-at-ease,

And golden rods, and tansy running high,

That o'er the pale-tops smiled on passers-by.

- John Clare

The essence of John Clare's verse could describe what this hidden garden looks like, hubby's very own little neighborhood pearl as he calls it, which he has been using since we moved to this part of Amsterdam. It's his chosen piece of earth where he does his body work, a series of movements to prepare him for the morning meditation which he does at home.

I've known about this garden since we moved here eight years ago but I had never visited it myself, not even if it was just a five-minute walk away. I, too, have many neighborhood pearls which I love to look at during my walks.

I had always wondered about the people who kept the gardens beautiful and tidy. You could really distinguish the different characters of each plot of land but most of them had a similar attraction - not formal, nor rigid, nor stately, nor immaculate. There's a very relaxed approach to them, as if plants, trees and flowers can grow as they will. Even certain weeds are encouraged to grow.

"Up to a certain point," said Truus Dekker, the creator of this one.

Through hubby, I was able to set up a meeting with her. I wanted to meet the gardener of this particular pearl and find out why she takes care of it.

Truus Dekker and hubby

Truus has lived here for 20 years. She started the garden just because, and continues to tend it almost daily until today. It is a common area between two apartment buildings, bounded by water on one side and a street on the other. For several years now the local government has been helping people like her, giving each of them €600 a year to use for materials used in the garden, like plants, seeds, soil, etc. I don't think the amount really covers her expenses, definitely not for time spent, but I am happy to hear that she does get a little subsidy. "BUT," she said with a laugh and I translate here, "they (meaning the municipality) love their invoices and receipts."

She showed us the herb corner, the weed corner, the bird feeders, the broken pot blown by the wind.

She introduced me to kaardebollen (teasel), beautiful but prickly but whose seeds the birds love. There were the pretty, sunny-yellow boerenwormkruiden (tansies), which are good for intestinal worms. Thanks, Truus, for that nugget of wisdom. Hugging the ground were some vergeet-mij-nietjes (forget-me-nots). I saw my favorite hortensias, or grandmother flowers as hubby calls them, prettily blushing pink near the water.

Hubby and I wanted to give Truus something in return for the use of this garden she tends, although she protested that it wasn't necessary and that we could visit it anytime since it is public space. But we had brought along a birdhouse for her, and we were not going to bring it back home. With hubby's help, she was able to open the box and without any prompting, posed for me.

She said she would hang it in her balcony. We both hope that a bird is going to take up residence there soon, but she said that if not, the birdhouse still looked very pretty as it is.

Gardening is not an easy job, I would imagine. I've never done it myself and I'm caught between wincing at the thought of getting my hands dirty and a faint stirring of interest in finding out about the nurturing side of me.

So throwing caution to the winds, I boldly told Truus, "If you need help with the garden, give me a call." Let's hope that these are not going to be famous last words.

My Daily Life In Words and Images

2012-08-02T20:17:00.001+02:00

January 2012 marked a change in my life because now I work from home. I love it even though I don't know how to put a boundary between work and private life. The two are intertwined in many ways and it feels right. Nothing unhealthy as far as I'm concerned.

My favorite place at home - the dining table where I work, not the chaise longue

There are days and weekends that I sit in front of the computer for hours non-stop and only take a break to cook meals and do household chores. It has become normal to go to bed beyond midnight, and find hubby happily snoring away when I join him for sleep. But there are also days when play is more important - meeting people, going outdoors, watching TV, reading books, listening to music, visiting museums, checking out markets, doing volunteer work...

2 AM and still awake

I am deeply interested in social media. Because of my business A Bird's Life, I felt I had to start with all these late last year. So far it's blogging, Facebook and Pinterest for me. I even attended a webinar last night. I feel so cool. I do not dare do Twitter yet. Maybe soon I will start my LinkedIn. Then there's someone from Pinerly who let me know I can start there too. Who knows? The world is mine!

Well, not really since I still don't have my web shop up and running due to lots of delays in the Philippines, although Amsterdam Arthur whom I've asked to do the final IT work said that he will have it ready in two days after he's back from his month-long vacation before August ends.

In the meantime, I am preparing to launch another company's Facebook page. In between there are dishes to do, meals to cook, a wedding invitation to design, laundry to wash, a home to clean, friends and family to connect with, a sister and a cousin to call, a neighbor's plants to water, my own plants to take care of, a handyman to look for, books to read, lessons to learn, a life to live so that I will have stories to write...

To you guys who think that I spend too much time on Facebook, I say you are so right. You don't know the half of it. If you do get annoyed with all the things you find in your news feed from me, then just change your subscription settings or "unfriend" me. You have my blessings. But if you can help it, please don't cut out A Bird's Life Facebook page. In fact, I'd like to see more of you there more often! Where are you, guys?!

Join the conversation in A Bird's Life in Facebook

So what does my day look like?

Let me show you a glimpse of it -

Morning prayer

Breakfast

Work and play

Lunch

Work and play

Bake, this one's practice for a niece

Work and play

Dinner

Tonight's TV show, Dutch swimmer Ranomi Kromowidjojo wins gold

Help hubby transfer his photos from his phone

The church bell just rang 11 times. I still have an hour to go before I turn into a pumpkin. Goodnight.

Nieuwmarkt On Sundays

2012-07-23T00:33:00.002+02:00

After several consecutive days of bad weather in the Netherlands, there seemed to be a mass rejoicing in the country as the sun showed itself. Finally! Weather like this should be spent outdoors, a thought shared by almost all I guess, judging from the number of people you saw out on the streets and enjoying themselves on the terraces.

Hubby and I biked to the Nieuwmarkt and occupied one of the very few empty tables in one of the busy cafés.

I had the beer (Duvel, one of my favorites) and hubby had fresh mint tea

After the drink, I opted to explore the market. I usually come here on Saturdays, where produce and other fresh, organic food are sold, so it was a surprise to see totally different things. Even if it was nearly 5 pm, almost all stalls were still open. I guess it was because the sun was going full blast and there were still a lot of people milling around.

Around De Waag

I took photos and except for one very unfriendly lady, who shouted at me and rushed to me to make sure that I deleted the photo I made of her products, the rest of the people were quite cool. I must admit that I didn't ask her permission first so it was perhaps deserved.

I was able to easily shrug off the unpleasant incident, however, since the next stall I went to had a friendly and charming proprietress. Nelly's bags from recycled materials, lined arm-warmers and 100% cotton T-shirts caught my eye. She also sells clothes she designs but she didn't display them there. Check out her website Windkracht 8 for her complete line.

Nelly

Lined arm-warmers

Bag from recycled materials with her own silkscreened design

I moved on and found other interesting stuff. The photos below are of Alva's stall. She was selling tote bags made out of long zippers. You could roll it up to something very small and zip it up once you needed a bag. Alva also has a stall in Waterlooplein which is open from Mondays to Saturdays.

Alva with her tote bags. Those behind her can carry up to 15 kilos each.

Close to Alva's stall, more bags, which were cute and colorful, caught my eye. These were designed by Lamont and he told me that he has more on display in his stall in Noordermarkt. After a bit of urging, he finally allowed me to take his photo.

Colorful bags designed by Lamont

Lamont, not totally convinced about having his photo taken

A group of people were poring over a tray in the stall in front of Lamont's. Curious, I joined the group and looked at what caused all the oohs and aahs.

Watches

A guy appeared from somewhere at the back of the stall and came to me. I thought, uh-oh, here we go again. I really will get clobbered now for taking a photo without permission. But he just wanted to know if I were from the Tax Revenue Department checking up on his goods. Duh! I didn't quite follow his humor.

Richard is the owner of the stall with watches and he also has a stall in Waterlooplein.

On the right side of the entrance of the restaurant De Waag, I saw a stall with unique scarves, tote bags, laptop sleeves, all from recycled materials and all beautifully finished. Owner and designer Anne van Dijk told me that she also has a stall in Noordermarkt. Check out her website for her full line and also the shops which carry her products.

Love that black one with the rubber tubing

Anne van Dijk with her laptop sleeves and scarves

More of Anne van Dijk's bags

I saw really fascinating African masks. The guys selling them were equally fascinating in their costumes. One of them, who said his name was Regal from Senegal, posed for me but before I could take his photo, he presented me with his bowl which he shook suggestively, the shells and coins inside jingling as he did that. A little bit slow but finally getting it, I donated €1. I actually wanted to take photos of the masks but was afraid to ask, in case I would be charged again. I was thinking that he would up the fee after he told me that the mask I liked was €200. Hmm, I must have seemed like a patsy to him but it was too nice a day to mind. These guys have a stall too in Waterlooplein which is open from Mondays to Saturdays.

Regal from Senegal with his calabash bowl

The Nieuwmarkt Sunday market had interesting stuff, although I think that there were not too many unique items. Most of the sellers were seasoned ones, and only a few seemed happy and relaxed about standing there.

I guess selling in a market could really be hard work and you could get jaded pretty quick if you are not so self-aware. Also, maybe there are more browsers than buyers in this market, which could be discouraging for any seller.

But for me, it was perfect for a sunny Sunday afternoon. Maybe Noordermarkt would be a better place to go if you care for more than just trinkets. If I do go, you can be sure I will tell you all about it.

Buddhas

Cabinet knobs

Oriental bowls

Old Chinese jars with metal spouts

Old Chinese opium pipes

Necklaces with interesting pendants, mostly with an eastern flavor

I was so tempted to buy some of these rubber stamps.

More costume jewelry

Bags, garlands, key rings, lots of knick-knacks

Some flea market bargains. I loved some of the silver.

Pins

Postcards

Floral Bliss

2012-07-22T14:16:00.002+02:00

Louie Schwartzberg makes beautiful films. His Gratitude is one that inspired me seven months ago and gave me the strength late last year to close a business in a very mindful and soft way. It's contained in one of the more popular posts here in this blog, I guess because many of you readers can relate to the message that gratitude is one of the keys to a rich life.

This one you are about to see shows the beauty of flowers. It reminds me once again that every living thing breathes and dances to its own rhythm, just like you and me.

Blessed Sunday to all!

Olie Bij Roest

2012-07-20T18:14:00.002+02:00

A friend and I played hooky this afternoon and met up at Amsterdam Roest to check out the Urban Art Show.

In the surrounding area, there in the middle of a field with overgrown grass was a raised platform that looked more like a rickety stage, with a sign which simply said massage. From afar it really didn't look like much and my friend had a word for it that made me laugh. Derelict was the verdict. I tried for the more diplomatic term shabby chic, but she was right when she said that the whole place was more shabby than chic.

See that structure in the middle with the white curtains? That's where the massage takes place.

Having lived in Amsterdam for a good many years, we've both learned to be open to new things, new perspectives, and derelict doesn't faze us at all so we both boldly marched to that thingamajig structure/platform/stage/place.

Thank God for that since we both met two lovely women who introduced themselves as Kitty and Monica, both professional masseuses trained in different kinds of massage. Their tariffs weren't that bad either, for Amsterdam standards. They are a part of what they call a massage collective, and this particular project is open for the summer only. And let me add, only when it's not raining, otherwise you could get soaked while having your massage because I don't think that uhmm...thing's roof would hold.

Kitty

Hamming it up, Kitty and Monica (seated)

Kitty giving Monica a massage

Nevertheless it looked gezellig, and more important, the meiden were also gezellig. I was a tad tempted to stay and have a 30-minute massage or something but I had to get back to work, and so did my friend.

We left while Kitty was giving Monica a Thai massage while waiting for clients. Lucky Monica!

On the way back to our bikes, as we walked through the scratchy calf-high grass, we talked about how we love this city. You can just be yourself, speak your mind, and take your space without apologies. Freedom at its finest.

And I also love how people collaborate with each other, like say come up with a pop-up massage business in the middle of an abandoned, derelict industrial area, and create a welcoming, warm oasis in the middle of it all.

Oh, and dear friend, if you read this post, I didn't mention your name just in case that would get you in trouble with your firm. We should do it again!

Check out the massage collective Olie Bij Roest and their facebook page.

God's Creatures

2012-07-19T13:07:00.000+02:00

If you see my Facebook timeline, it's peppered with God's creatures, great and small, some I found from other Facebook pages, some I found on the internet, and some posted by friends on my timeline. You'd think I'm a great animal lover. And yes, you could be right but at the moment I prefer the relationships to be virtual and remote. I'm a little bit wary of things that squiggle and have teeth.

Here are just a few of my favorite ones, just dogs and cats, whom I met over the last months. Aren't they pretty and don't they just make your heart melt?

If you guys want to add anything to this bunch, leave the link in the comment space below and I will add them here.

My Quiet Passion

2012-07-15T16:48:00.001+02:00

Hubby's idea of home decorating: hanging his running shoes
outside the window after every run.

I have a hubby who loves to do sports. He loves to move, to push his body, to be out in nature, rain or shine. I think there's also an addiction here. He loves his endorphins, or rather what they bring him.

His favorites are tennis and jogging. He goes out most days to do something, and these activities really help him mentally, emotionally and physically, especially when work demands a lot from him.

I, on the other hand, am a true-blue, dyed-in-the-wool couch potato whose most favorite place in the world is home. I have an ongoing joke with him that my only exercise is jumping to conclusions.

But that's not totally true because I've been having a love affair that predates hubby. It started in the late 80's. I got hooked and have continued the relationship till today with a quiet passion.

Monday nights, I dress up for the weekly rendezvous. I bring my gear, and get on my trusty bike to take me to a studio just ten minutes away from where I live to meet up with other women. There we practice the dance of the breath, body and mind.

Behind the red door is the studio.

Yoga.

I've been practicing yoga for more than 20 years regularly, which I've learned through books, videos and classes. In Amsterdam, I had joined different yoga classes over the years, the last one being power yoga, which I followed for more than a year. Unfortunately, the lessons stopped when the community center in front of my apartment, where classes were held, closed for a few months for renovation.

My yoga gear at home

I was very happy when my teacher Alexis wrote at the end of June that she was starting her classes again in a studio nearby. Alexis starts with a Body Shape lesson first and Power Yoga after. Feeling very enthusiastic about her return to the neighborhood, I signed up for both.

Last Monday, I asked Alexis and the rest of the Body Shape class if I could take photos for my blog. There was no hesitation whatsoever. Everyone moved into position with alacrity and followed Alexis's moves. Thank you, ladies!

This couch potato could hardly keep up with these amazons. Last Monday, Alexis looked at me and said, "Put on your happy face," in her usual enthusiastic and lively manner. It was only then that I realized that I had on a very serious, haggard look with my tongue almost hanging out. Meantime, these legends were hopping all around me.

I was afforded a very few short minutes of rest when the Body Shape class moved out and the Power Yoga students took over.

Then it began, the familiar breathing, the motions whose steps have been recorded and imprinted in memory with grateful acceptance by every muscle, nerve and sinew, welcomed and caressed with love by a body that is usually used for sitting in front of a computer or a telly. The body is cleansed as the energy flowed through it, as the breath moved the current up and down, side to side. The mind followed the flow and is lulled to rest in a quiet place where only the beating of the heart measured that timeless moment from breath to breath.

I have met so many wonderful teachers in my life. Alexis is one of them. Her approach to teaching is a rejoicing. The unflagging, tireless, gentle sharing of her art can only come from a deep love for the subject she teaches.

If you want to follow any of her lessons, click here.

After the class, I slowly made my way back to my bike, and as usual took my time to see and feel my surroundings. This is again one of those many places in Amsterdam that breathes history and beauty.

What once were warehouses in the early 18th century are now considered homes by many people. And tucked in this silent courtyard is a studio where a quiet passion is played out every Monday night.

A Quiet Walk To Celebrate Life

2012-07-13T15:14:00.003+02:00

(This post is dedicated to Annalee, Arlene, Ellen, Elvie and Tess.)

"Sorta depressing post because a friend just passed away today. He had pancreatic cancer. He didn't want us to fuss over him, but now all of us wish we had fussed over him just the same. And so a lesson: life is just too short, so live without regrets. And if people love you and want to fuss over you, you should let them. But I guess his ploy worked, because my last memory of him is when we were at a friend's wedding, not in a hospital, not while he was sick."

"Sometimes it's better to remember people during their healthy, happy days so that when you think of them, you can enjoy the beautiful and happy memories all over again. My mommy had pancreatic cancer too, and knowing how difficult this sickness is, just try your best to be happy knowing that your friend is in a better place now. Take care of you."

"I agree - that it's so much better to remember the people we care about during their healthy and happy days. It may be a different situation when you're talking of family members who've gone before us but who we've seen suffer in sickness before passing on. I personally think that the grief becomes bigger because there is so much more to remember - the healthy and happy days, and those days when they were sick, weak, scared and helpless. To me, in the case of my daddy and mommy, my thoughts of them in the best and worst of health have become part of my daily struggle to completely let go of the pain and the sadness....I'm still dealing with my grief every single day."

Remembering my own loved ones who had passed on, these words echoed in my head as I went for a quiet walk around the neighborhood last night. These words were shared among a band of women who met while working for the same company nearly 20 years ago, and who now live in different parts of the world. They come together daily with the help of technology to share little things and big things, silly things and serious things. These are some of the women I consider my dearest friends.

The sky last night

When I got outside my apartment building, it was chillier than I had anticipated. I only had a thin sweater on but I didn't want to go back to get a jacket so I pressed on. Kids were in the playground, screaming in their childish trebles, bantering, running, swinging, just living in the moment, something that kids are gifted with.

I met a woman who was struggling with her huge dog. He was on a leash but he was dragging her along. I thought, "The Dog Whisperer Cesar would say she's not the pack leader." She gave me a helpless look when we passed by each other.

Turning a corner, I saw an old couple on their bikes calling to a man walking towards me. I kept walking and could hear them behind me. The man said proudly to them, "We got married last week." "You did? After all these years of living together, you finally got married. Wat leuk!" More enthusiastic conversation followed.

As I turned left, a young couple walked across my path and a man ahead, who was cleaning his van, called out to them. A few pleasantries were shared, just like neighbors are wont to do.

I crossed a footbridge and saw two young women on the other side. Both had hijab headscarves on. One was trying to get on her bike while the other, who was loaded with bags, was waiting for her to get going before hopping on at the back. They made a few false starts while other bikers whizzed past them. It took a couple of hundred meters with them moving ahead, then me, then them, then me, before they could finally keep going forward without stopping. A little bit wobbly, bags flapping on both sides, and with much laughter, they slowly disappeared from my sight.

The corner café was busy preparing its terrace for something. I asked the young man who was bringing out some chairs from a container what he was doing. They were holding a free outdoor screening of a documentary which would start at 10.00 pm. I looked at my mobile phone. It was 8:15. I checked out the posters before I moved on and saw that there were more screenings next week with a different documentary each night. A note to myself: I gotta come back here with hubby.

Photo from the Pakhuis de Zwijger website

I moved towards the water and walked under one of my favorite bridges in Amsterdam, one of those that connects the Amsterdam Center to Java Island over the water IJ. It's the Jan Schaeferbrug or the Javabrug, specially designed so that when the maritime event Sail takes place in Amsterdam every five years, the middle portion is taken out so that tall ships can enter and moor alongside the waterfront.

Underside of the Jan Schaeferbrug

During SAIL Amsterdam, middle portion of the bridge removed
(Credit: Wikimedia Commons)

I walked up the bridge and stopped at the highest point, one of my favorite parts of the walk. With mild success, the sun was trying bravely to come through the heavy veil of clouds. My eyes wandered over the dark waters to the left bank while I struggled a bit with the fresh wind that got through my thin clothes very easily. There were no huge cruise ships docked at the Passenger Terminal, only a lone white yacht. On the right side was a boat with five women. Judging from the sounds coming from the boat and the lack of speed, this wasn't a team of rowing athletes but a bunch of women doing some serious exercise.

A solitary white yacht

The female rowers

Children's voices reached my ears first as I went down the bridge on the other side. I found them under the bridge. I imagined they were siblings. Big brother was up there at the very top, little brother was midway trying to get to the top too but kept slipping back, and little sister was begging, "Please, please, help me. I wanna get up there too." What fun!

Walking on I spied a bunch of hollyhocks blowing in the brisk wind. Tossed about but unbowed, they bravely lifted their pink heads and danced to the wind's tune.

I saw a plump cat slinking along the edge of the embankment, confidently balancing herself without any fear of falling into the water. I tried to get her to stop so I could pet her but she ignored me. Story of my life with cats.

Alright, I shall not beg, I thought huffily.

Halfway through my 5 km walk, when I was nearly at the other bridge, I saw a group of people coming out of an apartment building. Two men in black suits were wheeling out a stretcher, and an old man and a young one followed them.

There were other people about - a woman who brought her garbage bag to the bin outside, two children playing football on the grounds, people who biked by. Like me, they all stared at the scene. You just knew it was a quiet drama unfolding. The stretcher was fully covered but you could see a body under the blue sheet.

Turning right towards the Verbindingsdam bridge, I saw the old man opening a white car then he moved back towards the young man, who was watching the two men in black suits loading the stretcher into a black hearse. They watched in silence as the stretcher was locked in place inside. As I walked by, the old man glanced at me and for a few seconds we stared deeply into each other's eyes. I saw the pain and loss in his, which I think my own eyes echoed as the discussion with my friends came to the fore. I gave him a slight nod and he acknowledged it with one of his own, which removed the uneasiness I felt for unwittingly sharing in his intimate moment.

I turned away so as not to invade his privacy any further and allowed a rosebush blowing in the wind ahead to distract my attention. I stopped by it to take a photo.

While doing so, the black hearse drove by and behind it, the old man followed alone in his white car.

This was the halfway point of my walk. Was there a purpose for the reminder about death, the very reason why I went out for a walk in the first place?

At the other side of the water, I walked along the tram tracks and saw unusual flowers planted at the side of a building. I would have wanted to get closer and get a good shot but it didn't seem right to lurk outside someone's home just so I could get better acquainted with her flowers. So this would have to do.

Crossing a major intersection, I moved closer to home, that part of Amsterdam which in the 17th century housed the shipyards and warehouses owned by the Dutch East India Company. You could see remnants of that past all over the place, and I like that very much because it makes the atmosphere so rich.

A sign which means Dutch Shipbuilding Company

Walking beside a canal, I saw the ducks floating peacefully on the still water, creating a lot of ripples with their webbed feet as they avoided a mast of a sunken boat.

Some kind soul left grains for the pigeons. They were busy pecking at the food but there came this busybody, that's me, who wanted to snap their photo. So they sidled away, carefully keeping an eye on me, just in case I would make a move to harm them.

Further on, the water was undisturbed by ducks so it reflected the building beside it and the sky overhead so clearly that it was almost a mirror image.

I cut through the park and saw children still playing outside. That's the beauty of summer when daylight seems to last forever and you can do so much outside. Even their dogs were having the time of their lives, their little bodies madly dashing around the grounds.

I passed more flowers beside buildings, their yellow, pink, lavender, red, purple and white colors bright reminders of life.

I got home, cut myself a slice of freshly baked Apple Streusel Cake, and made some fresh mint tea.

I thought.
I felt.
Life is good.

Le Fou Fow

2012-07-01T20:46:00.001+02:00

I had seen pop-up shops on the main shopping street before but it was the first time I saw a pop-up restaurant while I was nosing around in one of the stores in Amsterdam's Chinatown, Toko Dun Yong.

It was 5:30 pm on a Wednesday and here was this guy alone in the second floor of the shop busy cleaning up what seemed to be a kitchen. I didn't expect a kitchen but there it was in the middle of the room. In a corner overlooking the Geldersekade and a busy side street, were some tables that looked very inviting, almost like an oasis of calm in one of the bustling neighborhoods in this city.

Of course, ever curious me asked the friendly-looking guy some questions. His name was Le fou Fow (pronounced le fu fu) and he was the chef of this pop-up noodle restaurant. His menu was limited but he claimed to serve fresh Japanese noodles in a deep homemade broth. That sounded fantastic to me. Fresh and homemade always appeal to this huismus. After a short interview, I made my way down the stairs with a clear plan to come back here with my hubby, also an aficionado of fresh and homemade food, before Le fou Fow's pop-up restaurant packed up its bags on July 30.

Not a week passed by and I was back with hubby in tow. There was one empty table left, which we quickly occupied. There was another guy who took our order of gyoza, the big portion of the Shio Ramen and Chinese tea. It took a while for the gyoza to arrive but only seconds to be gobbled up. The ramen took even longer, more than usual compared to other restaurants, but it was a Sunday afternoon, there was no rush, and besides hubby and I had fun chatting.

The bowl arrived and it looked wonderful, too wonderful that I realized that I had not taken a photo of it until the bowl was nearly empty. No worries, because while waiting for an additional order of gyoza, I was able to take photos of the order the guys were making for other guests.

If you want simple, fresh, homemade food in a peaceful, comfortable place in the middle of the Zeedijk frenzy, pop in here (no apologies for the pun) and slurp up some noodles.