Tot ziens, Nederland

The decision seems to be made. A job isn't forthcoming, so I'm headed back to Washington, D.C. at the end of this month. Wonderful friends have offered housing (including for feline Dorabella; her mother, Alice, developed kidney failure over the summer and I did the right thing, which was heart-rending), and Craigslist offers very tempting jobs, unlike Holland. Truth be told, I won't miss working here, at *all*. It has been so stressful and tiring (long train commutes to two Amsterdam locations). I have done my utmost since July to find something, but all the effort produced only one interview, for a job I didn't want, and which didn't pan out. I'm resolved about the return, but certainly not pleased.

How I will miss the simplest things: beautiful, tranquil views. The market on Saturdays, with virtually free flowers. Biking everywhere. Lunch at the beach, with former neighbor, Dona. Beach pot-luck dinner picnics with her, too. Checking each other's homes when we're away. All manner of things with former Linklaters colleague Louise, who introduced me to the market and has shown me so much of this exquisite small city (pop. 120,000). Rembrandt in The Hague (Mauritshuis) or Amsterdam (Rijksmuseum). Vermeer, and his views still visible here. The gauzy, lovely light. Speaking Dutch and learning daily from my mistakes. Realising that after three years, I'm just beginning to learn this language.

1.25-hour flights to the U.K., with no jet lag. Feeling that I live in Europe, however changed Europe is (and it is). Athens last Christmas with Dr. Betts, meeting his friends there and revisiting Athens (didn't like it). Scotland (right at the top; Orkney islands seen clearly) for a long weekend. Barcelona for Christmas (on a catamaran) two years ago. Meeting people from all corners of the planet here, as normal. Feeling I really live in the world, here. Having my best friend from my study year be a Russian nearly a third my age. Having the great moving company's head tell me it would be okay, and our both knowing what I would lose.

Washington has lots of Rembrandt, but is three hours from a beach. Biking is life-threatening, but I plan to do it. Only one market, and it's enclosed (Eastern market), and up on Capital Hill. Very, very busy people. I've been away for three years, but will it have changed at all, other than to receive Obama with open arms? I rather doubt it. At least, it will have started to cool off, by October. It's the mad rushing around of all those important people that gets to me. It's a magnet for egos spun out of control. In spite of my English friend, Derek, telling me it was a village (we kept running into each other), it is a big city. Not as compared to London (which really *is* a lot of villages), but compared to Leiden, Washington is a giant.

I will have to find my villages, within it: a great small grocery in Woodley Park. Good, small bookstores around the city. Concerts at the Phillips Gallery. A coffee shop that is *not* Starbucks (they burn the coffee). A place to sit and just look. I don't even know where I want to live, but Woodley Park beckons, if I can find a nice apartment that's quiet. There will be singing again. Two out of three former church jobs have new music directors, so there will be fresh life there. The blissful singing with my Welsh conductor is over, since he is in northern Scotland, and not directing choirs.

Back to the land of 24-7 shopping and credit card debt (not for me!). Back to that vast market, though: clothes here are poorly made and not cheap, so I'll be able to replace things that have just worn out, from more than three years ago.

Holland has softened and calmed me. Maybe this is why I'm so loathe to leave it. I like myself so much more, living here. I'm a better person. Yes, I take this all with me, but I'm leaving.