Christmas comes to Holland

     Its hard to believe that we have been here 5 months already.   Winter has set in, with its chilly temperatures, 30-40 degrees most days.  Some days are wonderfully sunny and crisp and others drab and overcast.  No snow yet, but our neighbor tells us that we will eventually have some.  He also tells us that if we get 3 or 4 days of below freezing weather, the canals will eventually freeze as well.  And when they do, all the ice skates come out.  Its a wonderful way to get around town if the weather cooperates: much faster than walking, and more fun than riding the bike.

    All the Christmas lights are up around town, and the Christmas tree lots are springing up.  The Dutch really know how to celebrate Christmas right- they have four days, not just one like us.  The season starts to ramp up soon after St. Maarten’s Day (November 5), which is the day that children go door to door and get candy treats in return for singing St. Maarten songs.  I guess this makes up for the Dutch Halloween, which does not include “trick or treating”.  

Dutch Christmas Parade

     Anyway, soon after (around the time of our Thanksgiving), the excitement (and publicity) starts to build for the annual Christmas parade, when “Sinter Klaas”, which is short for “Sint Nicolaas” (St. Nicholas or Santa Claus to us) comes to town.  The Christmas parade is a real community event (as well as being a TV event) and the whole town, or at least the ones with young kids, turns out.  However, in true Dutch fashion, the parade does not come down main street, it comes down the main canal, by boat.  The sides of the canal are lined with crowds of cheering kids while Sinter Klaas and his entourage float through downtown, waiving from  the boats.

Sinter Klaas

     The original St Nicholas was a catholic bishop, and here Sinter Klaas still looks very much like that, with a pointed hat and long staff curled at the top.  After disembarking the boat, he makes his way through the old town to the 17th Century "Academy Building", where he addresses the crowd from the balcony, looking very much like the Pope at Vatican Square, on a much smaller scale, of course. He is accompanied by a platoon of helpers, called “Zwarte Pieten” (Black Petes), who pass out small christmas cookies (“pepernoten”) and play traditional christmas songs.  Sinter Klaas leads the crowd, which enthusiastically joins in the lively songs, and then regales the kids with stories about his travels and adventures, and promises of what will happen over the Christmas season.

     True to the Dutch character, Sinter Klaas is much more practical than his American cousin: he lives in Spain in the off season, not the North Pole.  Probably hangs out at a Mediterranean beach resort drinking Margaritas with umbrellas in them.  Anyway, the Spanish connection probably comes from the fact that traditionally he gave the young kids oranges, which only came from Spain way back when.  His helpers, the “Zwarte Pieten”, all appear in black face and colorful costumes.  Traditionally, this was based on the Moorish or African servant that the original St. Nicholas had, but now the more politically correct explanation given to the kids is that the "Piets" are all black from chimney soot, from making so many trips up and down through the chimneys.  This would NEVER work in the US, so we just have elves instead. 

Sinter Klaas entertains the crowd

      Dutch kids don’t have to wait for the 25th to open presents, like American kids.  Christmas is still celebrated for two days on the 24th and 25th, but this is a more quiet time, reserved for family gatherings and big meals.  For kids, the climax comes on December 5, which is “Sinterklaasavond” (Santa Claus Eve).  This is the night when Santa comes to the houses and delivers presents to the kids.  I think the Dutch Parent Lobby was responsible for this tradition, which saves a lot of dealing with “Can we open the presents NOW PLEEEEEEEASE????”  

     The Dutch Santa Claus doesn’t arrive in the middle of the night, like the impractical American one.  He mysteriously arrives before the kids go to bed, either by knocking on the door and leaving a sack with presents, then disappearing before they  answer the door, or leaving a note out for the kids somewhere in the house telling them where the presents are hidden.  Similar to their American cousins, before going to bed, Dutch kids put a shoe in front of the fireplace for Sinter Klaas to leave a treat in (typically a chocolate “S”), and they may in return leave a treat for Sinter as well, and maybe a carrot or an apple for his horse (no reindeers in Spain, remember?). By the next day, Sinter Klaas has gone back to Spain, the Christmas trees go up, and things quiet down.

"Zwarte Pieten" helpers

     Adults may exchange gifts as well, but they are more likely to be personal, home made, or even gag gifts.  Christmas in Holland does not involve the super-charged extravagant gift frenzy that it has taken on in the US.  Some big retail companies here have tried to import the frantic consumer orgy related to Christmas shopping in the US, but so far, the practical Dutch have resisted.  Lets hope they can continue to hold out and preserve the homey and simple traditions they have enjoyed for generations.

Veronica and a Musical "Piet"

Merry Christmas to all...

They are quite friendly, even with older kids.

The Weather

Thursday, September 29, 2011

It’s  astonishingly beautiful outside. Funny that one of the things we read about the Dutch people is that they love to talk about the weather, because they usually find it so poor. So far we have found it to be the exact opposite. We’ve been here since August 11 and, with the exception of a handful of days, the sun has been out in all its’ glory. Even the days when it didn’t command the center of attention it managed to come through the clouds in smatterings throughout the day. It really has been very pleasant here. It is more like California coastal weather, than Modesto, minus the morning fog that envelopes the Coast, which we have only seen  one day since our arrival, and that was earlier this week. So maybe indeed we are getting ready for winter. Bring it on! 

Indeed there have been thunderstorms, but they have been short-lived. What they lack in their length though, they make up for in their intensity. It is breathtaking  to sit at the window and watch the lightening light up the room and hear and feel the thunder as if it were shaking the very foundation under our feet. And the rain drops, they are huge. So big in fact that at times they have looked like water cascading over a Fall in one continuous stream. 

Possibly there is another explantation as to why the Dutch talk about the weather so much. It is totally unpredictable. Tell me again why we have weather forecasters? Oh yes, to gainfully employee individuals. They can study the cloud formations, measure the wind speed and make all the predications they want, but mother nature will have it her way, and like the two year old child, it will be opposite of what you say. The answer lies somewhere between intuition and preparedness. Don’t leave home without your umbrella, but go ahead and leave it in your saddlebag while you are shopping. You probably won’t need it anyway. 

#5 Exploring Amsterdam

Sunday, September 18, 2011,

  Hello to all of our friends and family. I know Don has filled you in with a lot of history, a lot of facts. He is a Lawyer, after all, and a darned good one, except at home. I really appreciate him keeping specific records of our activities because I am not good sorting things out chronologically later. I’m better geared to share with you some of my feelings that come along with this Gigantic Undertaking. First, you all know that I was totally supportive of our move, though I wasn’t sure of what I would be doing while Don was in Class. I do know that I love adventure and am usually open to it, especially when it’s with the love of my life. If you’ve read the previous blogs then you read about our pass-ports getting stolen off the train in Antwerp. I don’t think Don told you about the part where I actually got off the train and started chasing the man across the station. I’m still mad that I didn’t get him, but at least I got back to the train before it left. Misfortunes are often turned around to become fortunes.

  Our stolen passports expedited our trip to Amsterdam where we had to reapply for new ones. We took the train from Utrecht to Amsterdam and arrived an hour earlier than our appointment, so rather than find a nice cafe to have breakfast, Don said, “Why don’t we just walk to the embassy? It’s just a 40-50 minute walk, and that’s how our day progressed. Walk Walk Walk (And by the way, for all you ladies out there, walking does not make your thighs thinner. I am living proof). But on a positive note, I have to give Don credit, the walk was very interesting. Right outside the train station The Red Light District sprawls over several city blocks.  It is very much in business still today, and supported by the Dutch Government. So if you are ever having married problems, don’t send your husband to Amsterdam. I was having ill thoughts about the whole thing and so I avoided doing the  typical tourist thing of walking through there, and of course Don was not going to go without me. There are just too many other good things to see in Amsterdam.

Amsterdam Centraal Train Station

  Also in direct view from the train station are towering old Cathedrals and Castle Like structures. When you come out of the train station you cannot help but be overwhelmed and awestruck by  all the marvelous works that were constructed hundreds of years ago and are still kept in pristine condition today. The embassy sits in the center of town and so we casually made our way there. It was still early and so the sidewalks weren’t swarming with people yet and the roads only had a few automobiles on them. This gave us a chance to get a really good look at the architecture surrounding us, and peer into the store front windows and dream about having all  the money in the world to buy all the latest fashions. After window shopping we passed Queen Beatrix Palace. It is said that this is her main palace, but she stays mostly in The Hague because it is more private. The palace in Amsterdam sits on a thoroughfare road. It doesn’t feel fitting for a Queen, but I certainly wouldn’t mind residing there. We’ve posted some pictures for you.  

Some serious competition for Starbucks

  Since we are talking about  the area of the palace let me tell you what I discovered in the adjacent narrow street, of which there are many.  Not one, not two, but several “Coffee shops” (marijuana bars).  The street was lined with them. I took  two minutes to explore inside one just to check it out, but Don was not comfortable hanging outside waiting on me.  Did he think he was going to see some old friends there. huh?  hee! hee!  Mostly I just noticed the many and varied bongs, of  which I have no personal experience. The shops are always marked with plants in the windows, and old guys hanging around out front. It really is interesting because you don’t see people walking around looking stoned and they don’t have the homeless population that Modesto has. There are signs posted that say, “Get high responsibly.”  Now there’s something to think about.

   Finally reaching the Embassy, we filed our papers for our new PassPorts and got them turned in. The officials in the office were extremely helpful and kind, and it only took 8 days to get our new passports in the mail. Once we left the embassy, Don said, ”Where do you want to walk to now?” I said, “A little food in my stomach might be a good start.”  And so we ate at this  quaint little restaurant filled with locals and tourists alike and they served us a breakfast fit for a king. I am so glad that we usually share because there is no way either one of us could have consumed it alone. With our tummies full we set off for the Rembrandt Museum. It was the first time I have ever had to stand in line to get into a museum. They put your backpacks through the X-Ray machine and then promptly made you check them in before you entered the rooms. Talk about security. What an awesome place it is.  I love so many of the Rembrandt pieces, but I couldn’t bargain a good price for them. For whatever reason I really like Vermeer's painting of the “Girl with the Pearl earring” and also his painting of the “Maid.” Don’t be surprised if I come home with them. We will be spending more days at this museum, and we have to go  to The Hague to the Maurits House, where the original painting of “The Girl with the Pearl Earring” is. Museums are mostly appreciated by visiting them several times and so that is our plan.

   We left the museum and Don reminded me that Amsterdam was the place that Anne Frank and her family hid out for 25 months during the German occupation of Holland. Such a sad story, as so many are. They were discovered hiding just a month or so before the Liberation. And all of them were sent to different concentration camps. Anne’s father was the only one to survive and with his permission their living area  was restored to the exact replica of how it was when they were living there, so that all of us could remember. I felt honored to have such an intimate setting shared with me, and humbled and ashamed for what happened to the Jewish People at that time. May we teach our children to respect all people.

  The Embassy, the Museum, and the Anne Frank’s House was enough emotional intake for me for one day. And, we had been walking for hours now. So upon my insistence we stopped at one of the many canal  bridges that connect the streets in Amsterdam, and indulged in a  Large local beer and some Dutch appetizers. There we sat for a good hour or more and “people-watched.” They watched us and we watched them. It’s great!

  We left for Amsterdam at 7:00 AM and arrived back in Utrecht around 9:00 PM.  Ready to hit the sacks!

Streets of Amsterdam

St. Nicholas Church

End of the Day 

#4 Getting to know the Dutch

We are really enjoying the process of getting to know the Dutch.   They are very friendly and helpful without being gushy.  Its not like they go around smiling all the time like Mr. Rodgers, but they do not hesitate to just speak up and help whenever they can.  After Veronica decided to bake cookies, we were at the grocery store looking for ingredients and she was having a hard time finding baking soda.  The 18-year-old stock clerk boy didn’t have a clue what she was asking for, but a woman nearby jumped in and took her to the baking section, where they proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes going through all the products and translating labels and talking about baking. We mentioned to our downstairs neighbor that we wanted to buy a futon couch at Ikea, and he immediately offered to loan us his old work car to haul it home in.  We told our retired English teacher and engineer friends down the street that we had purchased our Dutch bikes and she gave us a pair of saddle bags for them.

These are just a few of many examples.  Helping each other out is just a way of life for the Dutch.  We received a package from home while we were gone for a couple days and the mailman didn’t think twice about leaving it with a neighbor, and asking him to deliver it to us when we got home.  No matter that we didn’t know each other- neighbors help each other out, thats just what you do.   

The Dutch are very industrious in general.  Despite being one of the smaller countries in Europe (134th in size in the world, even after reclaiming a fifth of their country from the sea), they have the 16th largest economy in the world, and are the second biggest exporter of agricultural goods in the world, after the US.  They have a strong economy and a very clean and modern country.  They constantly maintain their infrastructure- you won’t find anything dirty and deteriorating in Holland (except an occasional abandoned bike).  They go first-class on public projects, so, just like the trains, everything is clean and comfortable and efficient.  There is always a construction project going on somewhere.  They are very proud of their culture and country, which they show, oddly enough, by constantly complaining about it.  However, as a foreigner, you need to learn that you are NOT supposed to agree with them!  You are there simply to facilitate the venting. 

So as a reward for all this, they have an incredible devil-may-care relationship with food.  As Americans, we come from a culture where you feel you need to be constantly vigilant about what you eat, and feel guilty about eating anything that doesn’t taste like cardboard.  Not the Dutch- they LOVE their deep fried food.   Whether its vlaamse frietjes (gourmet belgian french fries), bitter ballen (the Dutch version of falafel), or deep fried fish filets, you name it, they will batter it, drag it in meal, deep fry it, and eat it with abandon, and because they do so much walking and biking, they don’t seem to gain weight.  You rarely see a fat Dutch person.   

This is not the place to live if you don’t like fish.  They drag every kind of fish they can up from the North Sea.  There is so much fresh fish, its considered a mortal sin to sell frozen fish.  The Dutch version of the Taco Truck sells fresh fish on the street and they are everywhere. The classic Dutch treat is the “new herring”, raw herring in salt water that you roll in onions and drop into your mouth whole, bottoms up!

  Did I mention that they love their bikes as well?  There are 16½ million Dutch living in Holland, and 18 million bikes, so do the math.  There is an incredible network of paved bike paths connecting nearly all the cities in the country, complete with directional signs to and through the cities.  The government does everything it can to encourage bike use, including taking space out of the roadway to make bike lanes, giving tax credits for bike use, giving bikes priority over cars in traffic laws, and giving them their own traffic signals just like pedestrians.  The shopping mall parking lot is full of bikes- hundreds of bikes.  There is no parking lot for cars.  

Everywhere there is a sidewalk, there is a bike path next to it, twice as wide.    First time visitors to the city are inclined to think “My, what a nice broad sidewalk!” and stroll down the wide brick pathway.  This is not a healthy inclination.  You are far more likely to get flattened by a bike than by any car in Holland. There are two kinds of pedestrians in Holland: the quick and those with twin sets of fat bicycle tracks going up their back. 

  Every Dutch bike rider has a bell on his or her bike, and they are not afraid to use it.  The Dutch are normally very polite.  If they accidentally step in front of you in line, they are quick to apologize.  If they accidentally bump you in a crowd, they are mortified at themselves and beg forgiveness.  But put them on the seat of a 20-year-old used Dutch city-bike, and they are a different person.  One casual step by an absent minded pedestrian into the bike riders domain, and you are flirting with death.  They will give you the bell in a heartbeat.  Stand in the bike crosswalk waiting at the stoplight, and you get the bell; start to cross the bike path without looking, and you get the bell.  They will hit the dinger on you with a vengeance for any invasion of bike lane territory.  I have never been dinged so much as when I come to Holland.

In fact, you’d have to say the Dutch are pretty good with their dingers.  Just the other day, I was strolling along on my part of the sidewalk and a biker dude blew right by me, barely missing me.  I was so angry, I grabbed for my dinger to give it to him, but unfortunately I wasn’t on a bike, so I was dingerless.  So instead, I just shook my fist and hollered “If I had a dinger you would really get it, buster!  You’re just lucky that you are the only one of us who has a working dinger!”  I guess I showed him.

And then, just when you think you have mastered the bike lanes, you see them: the kamikaze food bikes.  Actually, you don’t see them first, you hear them, but by the time you hear their loud angry buzzing, its too late, they are on you.  At 5:00 pm everyday, they come out, zipping around from here to there.  The air is thick with them.  These food delivery bikes are souped up Vespas with hot boxes on the back that sound like weed whackers on steroids.  They speed through the streets, across the sidewalks, through the crowds of cyclists and pedestrians with no regard for their own or anyone else’s safety.  I haven’t seen one go through a side walk café yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they did.  They make the average state-side pizza delivery dude look tame by comparison.

Old Town and sidewalk cafes

Class starts tomorrow, so I am looking forward to meeting my class mates, finding out where they all come from, and how many decades older than the average I am!

The "Dom" (church tower) dominates the city skyline.

Bike everywhere 

The Oude Gracht Canal through town

Dutch Utility Bike 

Utrecht- The Fashion Capital 

#3 Getting to know Utrecht

Utrecht has got to be the ultimate cool University town.  It is the fourth largest city in Holland, after Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and The Hague, with a population just over 312,000.   The University, the largest in Holland, has around 30,000 students, which includes nearly 4,000 at the Law School.   There are over 2,000 international students representing 70 nationalities from all 7 continents except Antarctica, and I think they are working on that one.  It is in the top 50 Universities in the world, and by one survey is ranked number 2 in Europe.  The University celebrated its 375th anniversary earlier this year. 

           So that means plenty of students around town to keep the population young and lively.  In the final weeks of summer leading up to the start of school, the parks around town are alive with rock concerts and parties welcoming back the returning students.  The city has a huge variety of restaurants including Indonesian, Thai, Greek, Argentinian, Italian, French, and, yes, even American, and an even bigger variety of pubs, clubs, and outdoor cafés.  The main square, the Neude (pronounced Nude-ah) is a huge open air cobbled square with an imposing turn of the century post office building on one side and a half a dozen restaurant/pubs on the other, each with outdoor seating for 50+.  It is filled with people lolling about causally talking, or sharing intimate conversation in a quiet corner, or just procrastinating over a pitcher of Dutch or Belgian beer.  It is the hub of social activity in the old town, but thats just scratching the surface.  There is plenty else to keep the local denizens occupied, with numerous “hang out” spots tucked along the winding streets.  When you throw in all the museums, festivals and other cultural events (Utrecht has the highest density of cultural treasures in Europe) and the tallest cathedral spire in the country (The Dom, built in the 14th century, 368+ feet tall with 465 steps up the spire) and the miles of canals criss-crossing the city, there is plenty to do.

The main canal bisecting the old town is the “Oude Gracht” (which I think means “old fart” unless my dictionary is defective).  The canal is sunken some 6 to 10 feet down from the roadway and the sides are lined in brick, with a brick patio at the water level, used as a wharf in the olden days.  The cellars that line the canal were used by the merchants during earlier times when the canals were the main transportation arteries.  Now they serve as homes for the numerous international restaurants found in Utrecht.  The canals are crossed by a series of low arched bridges, which are romantically lighted up at night.  All in all, its quite a pleasant stroll.

The weather in Utrecht is always a topic of conversation.  Although Utrecht is “centrally located” in Holland, it is only 40 miles from the North Sea, which still has a big influence on the climate here.  Its usually cold and wet in the winter, and dry in the summer, and the temperature rarely exceeds 70 or 80 degrees.  However, the weather is quite unpredictable.  The weather literally comes rolling in, with the result that the clouds rarely stand still in the sky, and always seem to be moving.  It is not unusual for a rain storm to start just like someone suddenly turning on the shower with no warning.  The weather rarely stays the same all day long.  If its cloudy or rainy in the morning, it will be sunny in the the afternoon, and vice versa.  The by-product of this is that the weather forecasts are always right- and always wrong.  Regardless of the forecast, whatever they say is bound to happen some time during the day.  At any rate, days that are sunny all day long are thoroughly enjoyed.

And then there is the Dutch and their ubiquitous dingers.  But thats a story for next time.

Along the Oude Gracht

Stadthuis Plein with the Dom in the background

Always something happenin' at the Neude

#2 August 15, 2011 Settling in to Our Neighbor

We have a modest but comfortable 2nd floor flat at the end of a long row of connected homes on a quiet residential street.  Its about 950 square feet with 4 rooms, including an office with book shelves, and all the typical apartment-style furnishings: a couple easy chairs, TV, dishwasher, table, desk, and one of those stacked washer/dryer combos, with a washer that sounds like its trying to achieve sub-orbital speed when it hits its spin cycle.  It has a tree-shaded balcony overlooking the court at the end of the street, which we have already used extensively for enjoying coffee in the morning or a beer in the evening.  This is the first time the owners, Hanneke and Marcus, have rented it out.  He is an airline pilot flying out of Spain, and she decided to spend more time there, so we are now living in their “baby”.

The neighbors are very friendly.  Florine and Arthur live on the bottom floor with their kids, 3 little blond bundles of energy aged 7,5, and 3.  Florine is a stay-at-home mom, and Arthur runs a business.  Above us are Crystal and Sanna.  They have one little tow-headed boy of 2, and one more child on the way.  Sanna looks for all the world like a California surfer dude.  He is finishing the last year in his medical training as a surgeon.  Crystal manages a foundation she established which builds schools for under privileged in Nicaragua. Just around the corner in the intersecting line of row houses is Jan and Ank (“Anna).  She is a retired English teacher and he is a nearly retired civil engineer.  They invited us out for a wonderful bike ride through the surrounding countryside this past Saturday, which we thoroughly enjoyed.

We love going down to “Roberto’s”, the little neighborhood gelato shop a couple blocks away.  We are never quite sure what flavor we are ordering, but they are all good and made fresh on the premises.  There are usually other neighbors down there as well, and best of all, they don’t sing to you like at Coldstone.  Another favorite is the little bakery a little further down the street where they make fresh croissants and bread every morning.  Further away out on the busy street (“Biltstraat”), we have discovered a California Bagel shop, “Beans and Bagels”, with the best latte’s and bagels with interesting and delicious spreads.  It is always packed with students.

The most interesting feature of our neighborhood, however, is a huge medieval building down the street with two towering gothic spires with high shuttered windows on it.  The sign outside identifies it as a “hoge school” (a combination junior college and 4 year state college), but to us it is “Hogwarts High School.”  It looks like it is right out of central casting.  School hasn’t started yet, but we are looking forward to watching the quiddich games and the occasional errant lightning bolt that might escape.

Our neighborhood, like most in Holland, has its own “green” car as well.  Cars are more expensive to own and run here, so a government program parks cars permanently in many neighborhoods.  Local residents can set up accounts and reserve the cars for trips when needed.  Normally they would run their errands on their bikes, but when they need  to run an errand requiring a car, they can go online and get an access code and use the local “green car”.  The cost is charged to their account.  Back home, we have a similar thing, but we call them “bait” cars.

     Time to venture out of our neighborhood and explore Utrecht- the University town!

#1 August 10, 2011: The Adventure begins

All I could think of was "We must be out of our blooming minds."  We were sitting in SFO with a one-way ticket to The Netherlands.

A one-way ticket.  Thats like, no set return.  Who does that for their retirement? I had a comfortable retirement job taking temporary assignments for the state after 20 years as a Judge.  Why would anyone want to disrupt that for a one-way ticket?

Ever since my college days and my time in Europe with the Army in the seventies, I have nursed a secret desire to study in Europe.  I thought that maybe this itch would be relieved after being sent by the state on a paid sabbatical to The Hague in 2006 for four months, but, unfortunately, it just got worse.  I was like an addict.  I had to have more.

After I retired, it was all I could think of.  I spent hours at the computer, neglecting my wife and other family responsibilities.  Finally I selected the ideal program studying war crimes at the University of Utrecht Law School in Holland, just a 45 minute train ride from The Hague.  It would be a year long program.  Although the other participants would all be practicing attorneys, I would certainly be the oldest.

My wife, whose common sense was no better than mine, liked the idea and agreed to it.  We spent the summer making the preparations to rent our house ("My beautiful house that I spent so much time decorating!" she said.)  We farmed out what furniture we could to our kids and stored the rest.  We gave our old cars to our kids.  We got a PO box and sent in a forwarding address.  We checked out the flats in Utrecht over the internet, picked one out and rented it.  We tried to think of whatever we would need to do to be gone for a year.

When the day came to get on the plane, we were exhausted and ready.  We were hoping it would be  a routine flight.  It almost was.

Of course, all the things we anticipated might be a problem went well without a hitch.  All our luggage, all  6 bags at around 250 pounds, was accepted at the Modesto airport with no extra charge and checked through to our destination, Brussels.  What a relief that was.  Later, we would find out it was really a bit of a curse as well.  The flight to San Francisco Airport was uneventful and we got checked through to our gate in plenty of time to relax and have some breakfast.  Then as the first boarding announcement was being made for our flight, I felt my face get flushed and hot, I started feeling queasy, and felt a sharp pain in my left side, just above the kidney.  I had felt this feeling before.  This is exactly how it felt every other time I had a kidney stone attack.

 The start of a 14 hour flight is NOT a good time to get a kidney stone attack.  The last two times, I had to go to the ER because the stone was too big to pass and I was vomiting uncontrollably.  They had to blast it to oblivion while I was out cold.  I seriously considered telling the ticket agent to cancel our tickets and have Veronica take me to the hospital.  I did not want to have such an attack while the plane was in flight.  I only had 10 minutes to decide.

I decided to get on the plane and hope it would go away.

It did not.  I got worse on the plane.  Veronica noticed and starting getting concerned, but I told her it was just an upset stomach so as not to cause her any anxiety (she hates it when I do that).  I started drinking as much water as I could.  And spending lots of time in the bathroom. Fortunately, I did not start vomiting uncontrollably, so the plane did not have to make an emergency landing in the middle of Kansas.  When we touched down at O'Hare, I was actually starting to feel a little better.  During our lay over there, I leveled with Veronica about what was going on.  She rounded up some McDonalds lemon freeze and some lemon wedges from the bar for me to suck on (lemon is supposed to neutralize the acid that forms my stones).  

I dont know if it was really a kidney stone or just nerves or what, but by the time we boarded the flight to Brussels, I was feeling pretty normal once again.  Glad I didn't call off the trip.  

The flight to Brussels was peacefully routine and we were able to sleep during the flight.  We landed in Brussels and picked up all of our luggage with no problems.  We were feeling pretty good about the trip at this point.  The full impact, however, of deciding to try to negotiate the train system from Brussels to Utrecht with our 6 suitcases was about to hit us.

I don't know why I decided to chose the train as opposed to renting a car.  I have no problem renting cars in Europe and have done so on previous trips.  In hindsight, I could say that I was lulled into complacency by how easy and efficient the Dutch train system is. I could say I was impressed by how easy it was to get from the Amsterdam airport to The Hague before.  But in reality, it was really nothing more than a total brain fart.  I just didn't think it out.  It just never occurred to me that a car would work so much better.

So we bought train tickets and shlepped all our bags onto the train from the airport.  Now there are a couple of funny things about Belch trains.  First, they really aren't set up to handle passengers with 6 bags.  I guess they figure if you are just going from Brussels to Utrecht, you probably don't need 250 pounds of luggage.  So there is plenty of room for a briefcase or an overnight bag, but other luggage can only go right in the entry aisle between cars- inconvenient for all.  I thought one conductor was going to throw us off. 

The other thing is that they sell you a ticket based on where you start and where you want to end up.  They don't bother to list where you have to change trains to get there.  I guess they figure thats up to you to do.  I guess they figure there is usually more than one way to get to most big cities, and its up to you to decide how you want to get there. Of course we had to go to the main station in Brussels and change trains.  Of course, I got us off at the wrong station and we had to change trains again to get onto the right one.  Of course, the train stops in Antwerp to board new passengers, most of which are pick pockets and baggage thieves, so while I was watching people trip over our luggage in the entry aisle, one of them snagged my backpack from beside Veronica and was off the train and gone before she could even react. Fortunately, it did not contain any money or credit cards, no cameras or computers.  But it did contain our passports, my glasses, and my mac backup hard drive.

We reported it to the conductor as the train was pulling away and he unsympathetically said something similar to "Stupid Americans, you must get off at the next stop and report it to the police.  They arrested a couple thieves, so maybe they recovered your items."  I looked at the 6 bags and considered bribing the conductor not to tell anyone that we had been theft victims.  Then I felt waves of anger at the thief for taking the lightest bag and leaving me still with 250 pounds.  Eventually we decided that we did have to get off at the next stop, which was the Belch version of Smallsville, and contact the police there to see  if we needed to return to Antwerp. So all 6 bags went off the train one more time.

The station attendants and the local police were very friendly and helpful, but the news was both good and bad.  The bad news: they did arrest two thieves, but apparently there were so many this was just the tip of the ice berg, and the ones with my stuff got away.  The good news: we DID NOT have to go back to Antwerp with our 250 pounds and unload and load it again to claim anything.  So we loaded back up on the next train to Utrecht once again. 

Another change of trains in Rotterdam (my arms and back were jello by this time, and Veronica was looking a little peaked) with an added surprise. The train to Utrecht was three tracks over.  To get there, we had to go up an infinite number of steps to an overpass and back down.  Due to construction, there was no elevator.  As Veronica and I stood at the bottom with our 6 suitcases staring up, we both unconsciously began looking down at the gulf where tracks separated us from where we wanted to be, silently calculating in our minds how much further it was going up and over as opposed to down and across.  We both caught ourselves checking to see how far away the oncoming train was before we snapped out of it and realized that up and over was the only way.

 So up and over we went just in time to catch the train to Utrecht, with the sympathetic help of a number of local Dutch passers-by.  We arrived in Utrecht tired and exhausted.  I managed to go the real estate agent's office while Veronica watched the luggage at the station.  I returned with the keys and we made our way to the taxi stand to head over to the flat to meet the agent.  One last hitch however.  Seems that Dutch regulations prevent carrying any luggage in the seats, it must all fit in the trunk, which ours would not, even in the biggest cab there.  So we took TWO cabs to the flat.  (That seemed cheaper than hiring a lorry.)  After going through the details with the agent, we fell into bed totally spent.

Tomorrow we would have a chance to explore the neighborhood, but for tonight, we were toast.