Dies irae!

While there are no screams or burning buildings (yet), the sounds over this little city for a week, off and on (and tonight, nearly constantly) are those of war, to my ears. Actually, they're some sort of fireworks, but the sound is awful. They sound like bombs. The quasi-urchins who live behind my street were setting off such things when I retrieved my bike for errands a little while ago. It was so loud that I knocked on the inside of my "shed's" door, to alert them that the door was about to open, since the sounds seemed directly behind the door. Three little girls were setting off something considerably worse than caps, in a plastic fake flower pot! I told them that they could not do this near my "shed", or even in the street, and that if they did, I would call the police. They rudely retorted that they were allowed to do this until 10pm. I quashed that, saying that the police had sent us all a letter about fireworks and fires, and that we all would call the police immediately. I think I made an impression, and said nothing more to them as I rode off. I'm stunned that this is allowed. The three girls were alone and completely unsupervised (and NOT typical of Dutch children, who are polite). We (my brothers and I) were never allowed free rein with anything like firecrackers (not even with "sparklers"), since a childhood friend of my father's had been partially blinded and burned by such things. So, this is New Year's in Holland: LOTS of fireworks. I'm staying home and maybe going to another neighbor's later. I managed to sprain an ankle (again) on Friday, so am hobbling, with 2005's air cast on my ankle.

The nice thing of today was meeting another neighbor, as I came home, storing my bike. We formally greeted each other, and I asked if it were he, who had practiced the violin a day or so earlier. We exchanged passions about music and agreed to continue in the new year.

Happy New Year's, everyone!

Christmas Treats, Part 3

Such treats!

* Sleeping very late

* Cuddly cats

* No obligations until January 11th (exam!)

* Delectable Christmas dinner. My friendship with my Dutch neighbor (Dona) and her American partner (John) grows in the nicest ways. They are helpful, kind, generous, funny (very funny), excellent cooks, cultured, and astute observers of life. They invited me to Christmas dinner last night, with her father, who's 91, but still in his home, doing his own chores. I contributed my "Silver Palate" salmon mousse, trimmed in hyacinth blossoms. John decorated the table, which was candle-lit and star-sprinkled. Dona outdid even her usual delicious meals, making an entree of hare (which tastes very different from rabbit) in its own sauce, over a pastry shell, which was succulent. She steamed fennel and served it in a very light cream sauce with a little dill. I'd always wanted to try fennel as a veggie, and now will do it myself. There was also a light puree of potatoes, cheese and celery root, too yummy to describe. Then a salad with melted goat cheese. We shuddered on, to a home-made tiramisu, little chocolates and a Greek dessert wine that I want to have at home. It smelled almost like a Chablis, was a very pale, cool yellow, and had a slightly sweet taste. I'm a great fan of French Muscat ("Beaume de Venise" being my favorite), but sometimes get a headache from it, so am eager for other dessert wine possibilities. I had no idea that there were Greek ideas on this subject.

I'm always interested in knowing more about my little street, and Dona's father was very helpful. He's a lifelong Leidenaar. Dona is one of 12, I think. While the houses on my street started life in the early 17th century (mine in 1620) as homes for the needy of Leiden, they went through different phases over time. In the 19th century, they were all weavers' houses. Leiden was historically the center of weaving and fabrics, in all of Holland. So, Dona's father mentioned that he had a book on weavers' houses, and it was brought back to me when he was taken home last night.

One of the nicest things about hospitality with Dona and John is the commute, which is about 25 feet! I often take a bottle and ring their bell, at cocktail hour. It's fun. Dona flies with KLM, so has nice chunks of time free between flights, which often take her to Thailand (beads and silk), Hong Kong (all sorts of shopping), Brazil (remember the filet?) and elsewhere.

John is a school principal, at the American School in The Hague. It is an all-consuming job, and he has just given notice for June, so is enjoying both Christmas time off and the emotional freedom. Already, I can see how much more relaxed he is. One issue he mentioned are spoiled American mothers, usually having nannies, who want to have their THREE-year-olds in school all day long, so that they won't miss their tennis lessons!

* No rain!

* Such laziness that I don't think there's any more to say today!

Christmas Treats, Part 2

What a wonder she is, Helen Mirren. I saw my first film here tonight, "The Queen", and was thunderstruck at the uncanny resemblance Dame Helen bore to HRH. Other than her voice, I was convinced. Charles and Philip bore no resemblance to the real thing, which was disconcerting. The best line in the film was Philip's, to the effect that Elton John's singing in Westminster Abbey would surely be a first and last.

The theatre was located down the narrowest of "steegs" or alleys. The alley name is Vrouwenkerksteeg, or "Lady Church Alley", and is just off of the always jam-packed Haarlemmerstraat, a long pedestrian street filled with rubbish-y little shops and two or three that are okay. It's more like a beach-front boardwalk. But when we exited the movie, Haarlemmerstraat was utterly empty, save the Christmas lights and the cold, damp, heavy misty air. All the store lights were still on. As we biked down it, I half-expected to see Fellini-type creatures appear -- circus players, people in red wigs, riding unicycles. Maybe it was too cold and damp for Italians.

My friend and I parted at a corner and I rode toward home, having the streets to myself. All the trees on the canals have those little white lights woven through their branches. One of my favorite things here is to ride around deserted streets and feel the centuries, which is easy to do. I think that the main reason I so love silence here is that it makes it easier to imagine this city (and country) as it surely was over the centuries -- very quiet, at least at night. No motors, no bikes. It must have been so quiet. Dirty, too! Lots of horses and other animals.

There are many market spaces in Leiden. The largest is called the beast market, and I'm not sure what all was sold there (horses, cattle, goats?). There was an eel market, a fish market, a pig market, butter market, tree market, and doubtless a few others. These spaces are all still named, but don't function as those markets. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, a general market thrives on the New Rhine, which is where several of the old markets were. I've bought a few things at the market (one cheese, some cardomon), but have been surprised to see that market prices often are the same or higher than supermarket prices! The best thing at the market is just being there, and knowing that these markets have run for over a thousand years. I just realized what I miss here in the market in the winter, which is roasted chestnuts for sale in paper cones, like they sell in Munich. The chestnuts are roasted right on the streets, and you smell them for blocks around.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I still can't quite believe that I'm living in Europe. For the first time in decades, I will not be singing. This means that in theory, I could go to sleep any time I pleased tomorrow night (instead of around 02:30), and also get up (or not) on Christmas morning when I please. It's an odd feeling. I think I needed a break (from singing). Eureka: I can listen to King's College Lessons & Carols, live tomorrow!


Merry Christmas, everyone!

Christmas Treats, Part 1

We won't talk about exams right now, except to say that they're over, until January 11th. I've passed at least one course, but without distinction ("Speaking & Listening"). My pal, Russian Jenia, scored her usual 9. Four of our ten flunked.

So, there I was, in my neighborhood supermarketje (it's little), the "Deka", paused as usual in the produce. Things take different forms here (root things, particularly; I just finished watching two Harry Potters on my laptop, so roots are everywhere. Yet another excuse to watch Alan Rickman in action.)

Anyway: produce! My eyes roamed the array and suddenly, I spied something peculiar. A basket that offered small, rosy, pellet things that looked like both oval golf balls and also tiny meteors. Edible, they did not appear to be. Then, I saw the sign: LICHEES!!!!! I sniffed them, and what to my wondering eye/nose. I scooped up about a dozen for myself and then a few for my neighbors, who wined and dined me on Exam #2 night.

They are so delectable. Not at all gooey, as they are in Chinese restaurats. There's a technique to removing the meteor-like "peel" (start by pulling/pushing off the little knob at top that attaches it to whatever grows it (must look it up on the 'net); then squeeze just a little, then sort of push from the top, and most of the peel comes off; otherwise, it's messy and takes too long). The seed is most of the insides, but the flesh is one of the delicacies (I'm losing my English spelling) of life. The inside of the peel looks like a misshapen rosy golfball. The outside of the peel looks like a ladylike meteor.

Cheap, too: 2.95 Euros per kilo.

What will be next, I wonder? Off to sleep and more reading of actor Rupert Everett's autobiography (NOT highly recommended; trashy; he's one of my weaknesses, notably in PBS's "Sherlock Holmes"). Fantasy plays a far smaller role than it once did, but Rupert, Alan (Rickman) and one or two others do turn my eye.

Raw, real fear (i.e., EXAMS)

Maybe writing about it will calm my nerves (I've just changed this font color from red to soothing dark blue) . I'm rarely a nervous sort of person (outwardly, at least). I know all (most, anyway) of the stress-relieving techniques -- divide and conquer, use various media, make lists, prioritize, 'work smart' and lots more (get enough sleep -- did that, too). I've been through very stressful situations with nary a gasp. Do things in advance (did all laundry and cleaning over the weekend). Do all homework. Attend all classes. Consult with best classmates on study techniques (my lovely Russian friend happens to have a photographic memory, so I've had to discount a few of her techniques). Do all exercises in books. Try to memorize things (this is my downfall; things just don't stick as they once did). Just keep working on it. I'm a planner! I executed this multi-faceted move over months, with negligible oopsies (the cats' transport being a big oopsie). I'm grown up, healthy, smart. I can do this.

What's hard is that other than the weekend, classes just march on, with no "study week" for these, our final term exams! 6 is passing. I had planned on 8s and 9s (10s are mostly fiction) in all courses. Who knows? Maybe I'll get 8s and 9s, but right now, I feel as insecure as it's possible to feel. But then, I think about some of my classmates, and believe again that I *can* pass these exams. All my Dutch friends think I can get 9s, if not 10s. They are very sweet.

Part of the angst is just the prospect of taking ANY exam. Exams haven't been part of my life since the early 80s.

Right: I've put my fear on virtual paper. It's gone. For the record, "crossing fingers" in Dutch is "duimen" or "to thumb", so "Als je blieft, iedereen, gaan julllie in de komende dagen voor me even *duimen*". (Please, everybody, cross your fingers for me in the coming days.)

You know you're a student when . . .

* You consider your sock supply (as a female student, anyway);
* On entering most any sort of store, you're drawn to the school supplies;
* Your weekend is free of errands, having had the time to do them during the week;
* You haven't carried a purse in months;
* You own an etui (case for pencils, pens and essential highlighter);
* Most women's shoes make you laugh;
* You haven't taken a taxi since you left Washington, D.C. (except on Day 1, from the airport, when your two bags each exceeded the weight limit, and there was no question of being able to hoist them onto the train at Schiphol, and then getting them to the realty office to collect your house keys);
* You arrange your office supplies at home;
* You wouldn't dream of missing a homework deadline;
* You attempt reading your Dutch newspaper ("De Volkskrant") and are excited when a familiar verb appears, even moreso if it's in this week's vocabulary list; and
* You wax philosophical about all manner of things, having the energy and time to think about things.

I do think that university is wasted on most young. Having an adult perspective is a wonderful thing. Being able to talk a little about Rembrandt with my art history teacher (whose Ph.D. topic was the Haarlem art market in the 17th century) was satisfying. I asked her if it were known why he painted so many self-portraits. We chat about a variety of things.

My faculty (4.5 of them; the .5 refers to a course that lectures on different aspects of life in Holland each week, so a different speaker each week) so far is a treat. My art history teacher also teaches the writing and grammar class. She lives in The Hague, writes a lot of book reviews and speaks the best English (British). She's a sweetie who brooks no nonsense. Tuesday's grammar teacher (MA) coordinates the whole Dutch Studies program, so has her finger on the pulse of everything. She's younger, taller, very slim, hip, has two small daughters, takes biking holidays (like biking to Provence, complete with camping gear and towing two small children behind the bikes, with her partner, who writes and designs forms; interesting man, from his web site, anyway). "Partner" here includes anyone who co-habits, be they M, F, S, G, B, T or anything else. Marriage seems to be the exception rather than the rule. And even married people seem not to wear rings, often. BIG change from the 70s, when I lived here before. We have no classes Wednesdays, but will have something next term. Thursday's language analysis class is taught by a delightful woman (Ph.D.) who's one of the national authorities on grammar theory; she wrote our class book. I felt fairly confident of my grammatical knowledge and understanding of theory, but in Dutch, things can be completely different, so often English grammar almost hinders. This class has several students who are categorized as "instreamers", meaning that they've entered the degree program more or less at the second year, but take some first-year courses. At first, I wanted to be in this group, but would not have survived. They do the work of the second years, as well as three of our courses. They include a Norwegian, Hungarian, Spaniard, and three ladies from what used to be Yugoslavia. I cannot keep the new names straight (Slovenia, Slovakia, and one more). Their native languages are fairly different from each other. One is blonde and pink, one brunette and olive-skinned, and one fair and brunette. The silent male Hungarian ("Norbert") is the best of the instreamers. Friday's "Speaking and Listening" teacher is our only male this semester, a charming man who makes us laugh, tow the line and is the only one who corrects our accent and verbal syntax. In my view, the first-year program needs a lot more of this (I should mention it). His Ph.D. concerned 19th century Dutch literature. Friday afternoon's "Introduction to Dutch Studies" lecture topics have included:

* How do they manage to live below sea level?
* Do Dutch words exist (history of Dutch vocabulary)
* Second language acquisition research (very interesting; my particular case -- no use at all of Dutch for a 30-year period, but it sprang back, fluently, is the opposite of what's called "fossilization", or language ability that freezes at a certain age and stays at the level of the freeze)
* Dutch literature (oddly, there was very little, over the ages)
* Are the Dutch Calvinists?
* How did the Netherlands become multicultural?

Not all of these has been compelling, but it's also been a nice introduction to the other faculty. This class's students includes a large number of transfer students, Dutch-semester-abroad students and others and is given in English. The only consistent error I've noticed is the use of "to learn" for both teaching and learning, which is a common Dutch bloop in English.

Next Friday, the faculty is giving a holiday party, supplying the drinks. We students (probably over 30 of us) are to bring a national winter holiday dish, and I've no idea what's American any more. That and my oven having no fixed temperature rules out baked goods. Maybe the salmon mousse, if it can stay chilled.

Off to this week's vocabulary, "Politics" and "New Media". The thought of having learned over 2,000 new words (not that I've retained all of them) in 3.5 months is amazing. Very hard to believe.