It’s been four weeks since we arrived, but I’ve never been one to be worried about punctuality –

Here’s a post finally about The Netherlands! ❤

We left New York at 8pm in a rain storm and took off in one of the tiniest international planes I’ve ever taken with the friendly and surprisingly accomodating, Icelandair. Since our stopover was in Reykjavik, the flight was also the shortest international flight I’ve taken. Because instead of flying directly across the Atlantic, as I’ve always done in the past, to layover in London, this time we flew up over the upper part of the globe, over Greenland and the Norwegian Sea, which, apparently because of physics and the shape of the Earth, is shorter and less time spent over the ocean which is (I guess) why it’s ok for them to use a smaller plane? Ignore the fact that that was the world’s longest run on sentence.

When we arrived in Iceland it was super early in the morning and we had a beer for breakfast and admired all of the beautiful hip Icelandic people working in the airport. Apparently every person in Iceland is egregiously hip and attractive.

  
When we finally arrived in Amsterdam, we had to wait for almost an hour and a half for Chris’ guitar to arrive in the “odd shaped luggage” area. While I frantically freaked out that it was lost or broken and also that Josefien had been waiting on us the entire time. After trying to convey the situation in my limited dutch over facebook chat, she finally just said Relaxxxx!  
I finally took a moment to step back and realize that we hadn’t slept in about 30 hours and went so far north we skipped over nighttime and I may have been acting like a crazy person.

Another reason we were worried is also because we had heard of people being berated while going through customs if you only have a one way ticket. (The EU really doesn’t want people to stay here, I’ve found)

We were elated when customs just amounted to walking through a green door or a red door. Do you have anything to declare? No? Then just walk out a green door, Yay!

Josefien and her boyfriend Thomas were waiting for us! They greeted us with smiles and cheek kisses and helped us carry our bags out to the van they borrowed from Josefien’s parents. Here parents own a theatre called the Zeeheldentheater. Apparently they own an awesome big van for various needs. While riding to The Hague from the Schipol airport, Born in the USA came on the radio. Bruce Springsteen seems to follow Chris wherever he goes.

Back in The Hague, we were introduced to Thomas’ amazing house on a cute cozy but bustling pedestrian alley leading to the beautiful beach. This would be our home for the next few weeks! He lives in this old house on Keizerstraat with 4 other guys. It’s exactly what you would imagine a house on the beach occupied by 5 surfer musicians would look like plus a sweet back patio with a BBQ and a pet bunny names Wijffie. Surfboards, musical equipment and bikes line the hallways of the two story house above a home goods store called Blokker. And a fine layer of sand coats every square foot of flooring. There are photos on the walls of past parties and events and it isn’t unusual to see poetry, art, names or comments in various languages graffitied on the walls of the kitchen and bathroom. The only thing more charming than this house is it’s occupants.

  
  
  
  
Josefien and Thomas wasted no time in getting us acquainted with the beach and most importantly Haring! Chris and I had our first taste of the food my Dad has been longing for ever since he left The Hague in the 60s. Haring is basically fresh, raw herring that has been on ice and packed with salt and garnished with onion. The head and bowels have been cut out. But everything else is pretty much in tact. I went the whimpy way and ordered mine on a bun. Chris went full force with the traditional method of raising it above your mouth by the tail and taking chomps that way. Chris was instantly hooked. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of covering my queasiness until Josefien looks at me and said “Libby.. Can you…how do you say… keep it down?” hahaha Minus points for this Dutch Girl.

   
 That night, continuing our streak of no sleep, we went to eat pizza for dinner with Josefine’s whole family, The Noskes. Her sister, Trijntje and mom and dad Yvette & Jan Erik. None of whom I’ve seen in over 15 years! Of course I see where Josefine gets it, they could not have been more charming, welcoming and friendly. They bought dinner for us and I even got to meet Jan Erik’s brother Wouter, who my dad has talked about but I had never gotten to meet. He lives in France but was in town to see his daughter perform at the theater the next day. Apparently “Cabaret” here means something more like a one man play, which made for a lot of confusion at the dinner table that night. 

  They lent us two bikes to use and we finally felt officially Dutch while riding back to our house through the beautiful Scheveningesbos with tall lush green trees with huge leaves shaking and twinkling in the twilight. 

     
When we got back to Keizerstraat, It was 10:30 and we had been awake for nearly 40 hours. So we fell asleep almost instantly. But jet lag works in mysterious ways because I somehow shot out of bed at 5 am and couldn’t get back to sleep. I facetimed my mom and watched the sun come up.

Did I also mention there was a full sized disco ball hanging above us? Jet lag makes you feel pretty trippy. 

  

Those of you who know me well, know I have a tendency to overexplain pretty much everything. I’m a believer in the power of context! So forgive me if this gets a bit convoluted.

I was sitting in the cozy living room of my sister Molly’s UWS New York apartment getting ready to walk around central park when my phone gives a *ping* – it’s a facebook message from my cousin Josefien. In the craziness of our packing and moving and cramming in as many last minute shows as possible, I realize, I haven’t messaged her in almost a month and yet, she’s expecting our arrival in the Hague in less than 48 hours. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t set the phone back on the table and busy myself with a few other things momentarily to put off reading this message because I’m mortified that I hadn’t written her sooner. And I have a terrible habit of ignoring the stuff I’m scared of.

For the last 5 years of my life, I’ve been telling myself I was going to figure out a way to move abroad. I spent about 2 years futilely attempting to get my British Citizenship through my dad, only to find that because he was born while his father was working abroad in Brunei, he himself is technically a British Subject by descent. And for various technical reasons I won’t get into, the three oldest siblings in my family ARE eligible for British Citizenship, while the three youngest are NOT. I spent the next 3 years searching other my visa issues and also falling head over heels for a man named Christopher even though I promised myself I wouldn’t let a guy keep me from my quest. A couple of things happened along the way, and eventually I told him, yes I will marry you IF we can then move abroad! Then, as life happens, my best friend, Melissa, also got married 4 months after we did and things were postponed yet again. But since I will not be deterred, either by various life events or by my lack of ability to get a visa and actually stay here once I’m here, and quite possibly because I am just a little more than a bit mad (having a british roommate just might be bringing back my habit of incorporating british vernacular), Chris and I bought tickets on a whim and set our date to just be spontaneous and travel to the Netherlands!

Once I posted this on facebook, remarkably, my Dutch cousin that lives in The Hague whom I haven’t seen since 1997 when she was 8 and I was 10, messaged me on facebook to say, in not so many words (and not even in English), “what are you going to be doing in Holland, where will you be staying? & Do you want to stay at my place while I go on vacation at the end of July?”

Finally, someone who doesn’t think I’m insane and also wants to possibly help me sort out a semblance of a plan? I already loved her. For the few months leading up to our departure, she and I wrote back and forth and she was beyond wonderfully inviting and helpful and patient, with my questionable Dutch and my lack of solid plans. So, when she wrote me a day before we were to fly out and I realized I hadn’t gotten back with her in a month, I was so worried I might have unintentionally lost my only advocate. I finally look at the message and it says simply – “Libby hoelaat landen jullie woensdag?” (- What time do you land on Wednesday”) Phew – she doesn’t hate me! Also, thats a really Great question! To which I didn’t even know the answer.

I sent her our information and asked if she thought it would be easy for us to figure out how to take a train from the airport in Amsterdam to The Hague about an hour away. She said she would look up the times and help me with it and then she offered to pick us up at the airport! The hugeness of this gesture was absolute not lost on me. I was floored. I haven’t seen this girl in over 15 years and she’s already done SO much helping us to find a place to stay and now she’s offering to pick us up from the airport? I couldn’t have been more excited and grateful. And did I mention we’re not even actually related?

Which is where the strange title of this post comes in. Josefien’s grandmother was my grandmother’s best friend.

During WWII and the Nazi occupation of The Netherlands, our grandmothers worked clerical positions together in a governmental office in The Hague. My grandmother was an only child and her father had passed away years earlier so it was just her and her mother. I grew up listening to my grandmother tell horrible stories about living in The Netherlands during the war. She and her mother nearly starved to death. During that time, my grandmother Frida & Josefien’s grandmother Hetty worked together and became close friends. She said that once a week or so they would collude to try to break their typewriters in a small attempt to help the Dutch resistance during the war. After that, she said Hetty was the closest thing she ever had to a sister. And my dad grew up in The Hague knowing her as Tante Hetty and her children as his cousins. Although when they immigrated to the United Stated in the late 60s, my dad didn’t see them again until we came to visit in the 90s.

In The few weeks we’ve been here, Chris and I have been to multiple museums about the Dutch resistance during WWII and the general impact of the war on the Netherlands and specifically The Hague. A portion of it was bombed accidentally by the English and the Nazi’s tore down thousands of homes to make a path for the tanks to travel to that part of the Atlantic Wall, which we were amazed to see still remains in certain parts of the beach as an eerie reminder that this country, so full of life and beauty and kindness, was so recently ravaged by war. What’s amazing to me though is that a simple close friendship that was forged during these incredibly difficult years could transcend generations and impact my life after both of the women who met all those years ago have now passed away. Josefien and her whole family, The Noskes, have treated both Chris and I with so much kindness and love that it feels just like my own close knit family back in Texas. Love is a powerful thing.

I spent much of today thinking about home. And thinking about what I want to accomplish while I’m here. Thinking about why I came here and why I can’t seem to get over the awe of being in this beautiful new place and get down to what I need to be doing.

And why I can’t seem to be writing my blog even though I think and take notes daily about what I want to say.

I honestly really haven’t thought of home much at all until today. And then, while annoyed that I couldn’t bring myself to write this blog, I aptly got this line from one of my favourite poems by Allen Ginsberg called “America”. “I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.”

Since I’ve always had a mild issue with obsessive compulsive behavior, when I get a word or phrase or sound or image in my head, I tend to replay it in my mind over and over (and over and over). So today all I could think was “I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.”

But the issue is that when I feel most inspired to write, it’s usually when I’m riding my bike through Scheveningesbos (a beautiful small forest that separates Scheveningen from The Hague), while I’m on the beach with the sun on my face and the wind whipping my hair across my face or while I’m sitting around smiling at our roommates on the back porch of the house. Then later, back at my computer, my right mind has suddenly vanished.

And maybe there is just something so difficult about trying to convey to people the way in which you experience things. Another favourite quote of mine is from Joseph Conrad in The Heart of Darkness. “It seems to me I am trying to tell you a dream–making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream-sensation, that commingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence of dreams…No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence–that which makes its truth, its meaning–its subtle and penetrating essence.”

I wanted this blog to be a look into what our experience abroad is like. But as usual I’m being too picky. And assuming that people are actually interested in reading such a thing.

But, Right mind be damned, I’d better get right down to the job.

It’s been two weeks since Chris and I touched down in The Netherlands and three weeks since we packed up our lives and left home.

Here is, as promised, my blog! I’ll try to update it as often as possible to keep all my sweeties in Texas up to date on our adventures! #2015DOATHING!

  Our first big big regret of the trip: purchasing tickets to fly from San Antonio to New York at 6 in the morning. We had our farewell Tex-Mex dinner complete with enchiladas, guac, queso and the world’s best margaritas at El Mirasol and I hadn’t even begun to pack! My mom and grandmother stayed up with me watching new episodes of OITNB while I packed away all my things. Meanwhile Chris was literally working on mixing and recording his new album up until 4 hours before we had to leave the airport and then spend the rest of the night moving things from our old house into my parent’s attic until 4 am! We left for the airport at 4:30…

After 2 different layovers and hours of going in and out of consciousness on a plane, I heard the captain say “we’re coming into New York City” and opened up my window to see the most gorgeous clouds swimming around our plane above the cloud deck. I may have been in a sleepless stupor, but I do consider myself a connoisseur of plane window views and this was breathtaking. I really wish I hadn’t packed away my phone and camera at that point. 

   
 First stop: Spend a week as New Yorkers. Chris and I faked a NY accent and walked walked walked till our feet fell off. We spent the week with my unbelievably wonderful hosts, my sister Molly and my brother-in-law Nathan. They have a super cozy flat on the Upper West side right by the park with our own little guest room up the stairs and a cubby hole for the dogs underneath. They have an adorable old man Pomeranian named Tristan (Chris is the president of his fan club) and a hyper little whippersnapper Shibu named Momoko.

  
With Chris heading the brigade, we clearly HAD to visit all of the Seinfeld spots on the UWS and then took a trip to Harlem to see the house from The Royal Tenenbaums. Pretty much every day, we walked the city, yelped and called around (utilizing various accents) to see who had the best Happy Hours. We had an amazing array of delicious local beers and delicious cocktails even on our baby budget. Macaroni & Cheese lunches and beer for dinner. And Pizza, so much pizza.

  We went to see Jurassic World in an amazing theatre where every seat is like a lazy boy recliner (THIS IS A REAL THING AND IT IS AMAZING), enjoyed beer & pizza night at their friend Erin’s teeny apartment that she had somehow magically arranged to feel like a spacious cozy living room with the best snack spread ever. It was like one of those “tiny houses” that are super cool and in vogue right now, but no one ever talks about having an amazing party in a tiny house! How is it possible I don’t know, but I experienced it. I think Erin may be on to something.

  We even had a Brooklyn brunch & bad movie day with their friends Anne & Ryan and watched D2: The Mighty Ducks! Ended off our time in New York with one of the most epic days of my life at Six Flags: Great Adventure in New Jersey. Even though Chris had to ride in the trunk because the SUV we rented was unexplicably smaller than a regular car (it’s like the exact opposite of Erin making her tiny house big, this car made a large car tiny somehow), we spent an entire day riding 13 rollercoasters (including the world’s TALLEST!) without ever waiting in line. It was a completely surreal experience. I know I shouldn’t put amazing tips like this out into the interweb, but apparently fathers day is the day to go to a theme park. It was EMPTY. The weather was originally forecasted to be rainy, but it cleared up before we arrived and was absolutely gorgeous the entire day. According to Molly’s fitbit, we walked ELEVEN miles that day.  And ended it with a gigantic Taco Bell Feast and Chris scaring the hell out of Anne everytime he scooted around in the trunk on the ride home.

   
    
    
    
 On our last day in New York, we had a lovely albeit accidentally epically long hike in Central Park complete with adorable raccoon mom and baby sightings and Popsicles! Then  Chris took us on a Bob Dylans old haunts tour of Greenwich Village which was certainly a spiritual highlight of the trip. Good vibes, great stories and unusual cocktails filled the evening, we discovered an amazing hidden mid-century themed cocktail bar in the basement with Dylan and many of the beats before him got their start (and the place where snapping instead of clapping was started!) – finished off singing songs in Washington Square park before being chased off by the police. 

    
    
    
    
    
 Since this ended up being pretty long winded, which those who know me will be unsurprised by, I’m going to go and head and save the next post for tomorrow!

     

  
Next up: Bikes! Bikes! Bikes! And an unbelievably warm welcome from old and new friends. Stay Tuned! ❤