Inching (millimetering?) into winter (I guess)

Here we are, on a blustery November weekend (it roared across the North Sea from England Thursday night, blew around, rained some, caused the Dutch to operate the storm surge equipment at Zeeland [south of Rotterdam] and at the Maas [at Rotterdam] for the first time since 1976, so I paid attention), having swept the leaves in the rear garden (bricked patio, really) and snipped things in the front garden (a single rose bush continues to issue forth white roses; who could deny that by pruning?), I've got a nice mug of tea, some almonds, my lovely mother cat (I imported her and her daughter) at my back, and need to catch you all up on one American's views in this tiny country.

It's still not cold, though -- no sign of frost. Occasional hail, but this is usually just part of some storm. The constantly changing weather has some odd ramifications. On one of my homeward train trips last week, we neared Leiden, but the train slowed and made the most alarming noises -- grinding, thumping and very uneven speeds. People around me exchanged slightly bemused looks. The trains are so punctual (except when they're not), quiet, fast and comfy that it's a little worrying when such noises occur. Given we were between stops and nowhere near anything that could provide transport to Leiden (hothouses, planted fields), I began to fret a bit. We finally smoothed out, picked up speed and everyone relaxed a bit. The conductor came on the speaker thing (sorry: my English often fails me these days), to explain that the train had encountered a lot of LEAVES on the track and had been slipping! I couldn't believe that leaves would produce the level of stress that the train had had.

Some things are just bullet items, such as:

• What I call "clumping", namely that the Dutch (not just students, as I saw constantly last year) do not form orderly queues in any situation. They also will walk directly into one, despite making eye contact in advance! Americans, at least, faced with oncoming traffic, be it pedestrian or otherwise, will at least (usually) make way. The Dutch do NOT. In all the times I've been in London, in any season, at any hour, no one has ever bumped into me -- not even in the Underground at rush hour, at Harrod's -- never! Here, it happens daily. I've discussed this with other expats, and most of them say that they think it's ego -- that people consider themselves too important to make way -- but this doesn't make sense. I continue to observe the phenomenon.
• Elevator etiquette. When ascending to my office (21st floor of a "tower" at the Amsterdam version of the World Trade Center), on leaving the elevator, one greets the remaining travelers with 'good day', 'bye' or 'good morning'. Given we're all usually semi-comatose, this struck me as so civilised when I first noticed it. Stony silence is the norm in the States and the UK, and I was shocked.
• Togetherness at the office. At first, I thought that our puny 30-minute lunch break was why people went to lunch together, but it's just what is done here. I've resisted, claiming one thing and another, so only go with the group about once a week. I need the privacy and "down" time. The Dutch don't seem to need this. I like to read, do nothing or walk around. Whole departments eat together!

It's certainly a country of contrasts. Things are not always what they may seem on the surface. There seems to be a national expectation that things will go a certain way. There's a very popular verb, "meevallen", which means that something goes as one expected or hoped (or not). I hear this verb used every day, by many different people. Things are so stable here; maybe that's why this verb is so widely used.

This is it for this evening, I think. Stay warm and dry, everybody!

Until soon,

Pamela