Lost in Amsterdam

My original plan was to name this blog “Lost in Amsterdam” after one of my favorite songs that, depending on your interpretation of the lyrics, is about starting a new life in Amsterdam.  Apparently I wasn’t the only one with that idea, so I ended up with “Losing it in Amsterdam,” thinking there was a serious possibility of those lovable Dutch driving me nuts, and it also gave me a chance to revisit my debate over the words “loosing” and “losing.”  How ironic that I question how to spell one of my most frustrating tendencies (last night I accidentally put my phone in the refrigerator while cleaning up and it took me nearly an hour to find it.  In case you’re wondering, the locator app does not work when your iphone is covered by a cold tuna steak). 

I blame my confusion on two former bosses, one French and one Dutch, who used to argue with me whether we were losing or loosing market share.  Either way, we were in a pickle.  Likewise, following my long and remarkable string of misfortune, it didn't matter how you spelled it, I was ready to lose (loose) Amsterdam.  It's not only my wallet being stolen twice in 5 days, repeated hard drive crashes, finding my bike stolen upon return to AMS, buying a new (gorgeous) bike and then falling off of it again, crushing the gears on the bike and having them replaced, or the continued pain in my foot which serves as a permanent reminder of the Dutch medical system.  It's mostly that I just want to go home!   And as luck might have it, my 3 year expat assignment was just about complete. 

My company has a long and complex process for repatriation including the requirement to complete a physical before returning to your home country.  This seemed like a reasonable request, so I made an appointment with my GP.  This is how the appointment went:

Dr. Frans jan van der Maan:  “Hello Christina.  Why are you here?”

Me:  “I scheduled an appointment for a physical.”

Dr. F: “Is there something wrong with you?”

Me: “I don't know, but I haven’t had one in years and it sounds like a smart thing to do.”  (I didn’t want to bring up my foot, which this very doctor had examined months before and pronounced healthy, although he agreed the bright purple hue was a bit unusual). 

That is when Dr. F told me NO.  He would not give me a physical and it was not a smart thing to do.   You see, in the Netherlands healthy people do not go to the doctor because, according to him, there is no proof that preventive healthcare works. 

There was a recent article highlighting the Dutch medical system for being one of the least expensive in the world, and I can confirm this DIY approach is cheap!  I walked out of there without spending a cent.

True, the medical system didn't work for me.  But man, it's a beautiful city.

Prinsengracht in the Jordaan with Westerkerk standing tall at the end.  Although I hated those goddamned bells chiming every freaking 15 minutes, it really is gorgeous.



Bitterballen - the national bar snack. It is a deep fried ball of meat goo that is served hot enough to sear your tongue.



I will miss Dutch cheese so much I nearly brought an entire wheel of it home.  This is at the Noordermarkt - a Saturday morning must do.



My local cafe ... I highly recommend it.  If you ever find yourself in AMS, please go to Leliegracht and sit out on the canal or upstairs with the cat at the Spanjer en van Twist.



The stairs of Amsterdam are incomparable, but somehow make sense there.   This was the second flight in my apartment.  The third flight was as steep and narrow as a ladder...which led to my bedroom.



Serious Stairs.



My toilet was also a unique challenge!  In this photo, Eline is sitting on the throne...notice her legs come completely out of the bathroom.

It was really, really small which annoyed some of my guests.  Others just said to hell with it and left the door open.



I will miss the parties with lots of singing and champagne drinking.



Sophia visiting!



The hysteria of Queen's Day...



And the Only in Amsterdam Gay Pride Parade.



My sweet street.

 

The new and improved Buddy.



Great times with fantastic friends.

And with that, I lost Amsterdam and its Netherlandishness.  Heaven knows how long it will take me to find her again, and for now I am just happy being back in the USA. 

I believe it is time to start a new blog...

Honkers is Bonkers

It seems ridiculous that I was surprised Hong Kong felt really Chinese.  Not only is Hong Kong located in China, but I’ve been there 3 times before so you think I would know.  It appears as though my memory of all taxi drivers speaking great English was both selective and wrong. 

But Hong Kong has changed quickly and tremendously over the past few years.  The Brits have been gone for over a decade, and the Western comforts they had instilled are being replaced by Mainland Chinese traditions.  That’s to be expected, but it still felt abrupt.  Despite the rapid change, Honkers has more character and vitality than most cities in the world. 

There were other surprising discoveries during my time in HK besides figuring out that it's Chinese (ha. ha.)  Like you can take a short subway ride outside of crazy Causeway Bay and arrive in peaceful mountain trails overlooking white sandy beaches that make you feel like you're on a tropical holiday.

Diamond Back trail is an easy hike with beautiful views of the beaches below.

I didn't try paragliding, which is a good thing considering my recent string of bad luck.

A traditional Chinese Junk boat

Lamma beach on a crystal clear, sun shiny Sunday...



Sun set after a day at the beach and a dip in the ocean (still warm!)

It is not surprising that HK features the highest bar in the world - at the Ritz Carlton no less.  But it is remarkable how quickly you can acclimate to taking an elevator up 108 floors where looking down on high rises suddenly feels normal. 

I didn't take this picture from a plane.  This was my view from the Ritz while drinking a glass of chard. 

But the most impressive thing about Hong Kong were the people I met.  After living in many different cities and having to ‘start over’ every 2 – 3 years for the past decade, I was delighted at how welcoming the expat community is in Honkers.  The people I met aren’t just friends, they are family for each other.  Sue and Paul welcomed me into their home like a sister, finding me a place to live, lending me loads of cash when my wallet was stolen, and then loaning me another wallet which was stolen again...which they thought was funny.

S&P introduced me to their tight knit group of friends my first weekend in HK and we ended up spending many fun nights in SOHO and an amazing Thanksgiving together. 

Three peas in a pod, these guys!  Sisters Sue, Neha and Rupa.

Neha's Bday with Yummy Champers.



Me and Rupa after splitting a bottle of champagne while getting our nails done.  Rupa made the best Thanksgiving meal I have ever had.  Someone at the table joked that it had been catered from Harvey Nichols and I believed it.



Lazy Sunday out with Andy, Emily and friends on a junk boat - one of the greatest HK experiences ever.



Happy faces  in Happy Valley at the horse race.  My wallet was being stolen as this was taken.  Smile!

The Philips AVENT HK team!



Special place, that Hong Kong.  I'll be back to visit friends, especially to see the new Gratton bambino.  But first up is a weekend trip to Rice Lake and then to Amsterdam for my final 11 days abroad...hello jet lag.

Christmas in Honkers from a Sevva - great roof top bar.



More Christmas in Honkers.



Doesn't looks so much like Christmas...gorgeous day.



Adios for now!  See you later, Hong Kong.



Hang On Hanoi!

My visit to Hanoi is best illustrated with pictures.  Writing certain detail about this particular adventure makes me want to cover my head with a blanket and curl up in the fetal position.  Maybe whimper and rock a little too.

With only one weekend left in Asia, I needed a final adventure before leaving.  Hanoi is less than a two hour flight from Hong Kong and I've never had the chance to visit  so I booked it.  My trip was short so my itinerary was focused on the two things I loved most about my last trip to Vietnam – eating and cycling.

It is possible that I've done more cooking in classes than at home over the past 5 years.  So, with no intentions of replicating the dishes again, I started my Saturday bright and early at cooking school.  Of the many cooking schools in Hanoi, I chose the one that advertised itself as being the most local and authentic.  This was a nice reminder that I'm more of a main stream kinda gal.

The class started with a fun shopping trip at a nearby wet market where most of the ingredients were purchased. 



Maybe it's because I was raised on a vegetable farm, but piles of fruit and veg at a fresh market are always a favorite site, no matter the country or city.  



The market was bustling with motor bikes, cyclists and loads of ladies with bags of food darting through the tiny rows. 

Gorgeous,produce lying next to the gutter.

Fresh sticky rice noodles for Pho.

I've become less squeamish about the bloody side of fresh markets, finding it more fascinating than disgusting, mostly because I only have to look at it.  However, If you don't want to look at it, skip the next series of photos.

This guy was scraping the hair off of fresh pigs feet.

One of the many butchers, most of them women.

First question:  Why do the locals eat this?  Second question: Why did I take an authentically local cooking class?

Back at school with all the ingredients in hand, we were ready to start cooking beef Pho (essentially beef noodle soup).  Pho is everywhere in Hanoi and clearly the favorite dish in the city. And I understand why.  It makes you feel warm and full and you get to slurp noodles and add lots of chili, basil and lime. 

Next recipe was some deep fried shrimp cakes that are also sold all over the streets.  The interesting part about this preparation was that the prawns were still alive.  So the prawns jumped out of my hands while I tried to pull their heads off.  It made me a bit sick.   

We finished up with some tasty spring rolls (which I actually might make again?) before the whimpering started.  

   

The next series of local delicacies are vomit worthy.  And it embarrasses me to say that I tried them because I was the only one not doing it and the class started cheering my name.  Weak willed!

Stir Fried Silk Worm.



Fresh Fried Frog Legs



You don't want to know and I can't talk about it.



I didn't feel much like eating for the rest of the day, so I decided to forget about the local cuisine and lounge by the pool

Next morning I ate a giant bowl of Chicken Pho to prepare myself for the cycling tour.  Turns out I was the only one stupid enough to go on a cycling tour in Hanoi, so it was just me and my guide Dan driving through the city.

This is traffic in a nice spot.  My hands were shaking too much to take any photos in the busy parts.  I was scared half to death.

Dan could tell I was not navigating the traffic with confidence and suggested we go out of the city to an "unofficial" town.  I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded like a great alternative to being killed in the streets of Hanoi.  So we cycled outside the city and onto very quiet, but more technical dirt tracks. 

Crossing the river to get to the "Unofficial" Town

Unfortunately, I was starting to miss the prospect of death in the streets of Hanoi.  

The further we went into the banana fields, the sicker I felt.  Here is Dan looking back at me wondering why I don't have a big smile on my face while admiring the beautiful surroundings.

It was about then that Dan yelled back at me: "Actually, I should tell you that there are very aggressive dogs here.  But no worry, they don't bite."  Oh God.

A little further along, Dan stopped and said he was not sure how to get out of the Unofficial City.  Then he rode off telling me he'd be back in a few minutes leaving me alone in the middle the fields.  This is how I felt at that moment:

In case you are considering it, I don't recommend going to an unofficial city alone when you don't speak the language, don't have a mobile phone, don't have a map, and officially don't know where you are. 

We eventually made it back to Hanoi and Dan bought me a Vietnamese coffee to cheer me up.  I'm going to miss these...

I couldn't have been more thrilled to get off my bike and decided to walk around and buy souvenirs before catching my flight back to Honkers.  That's when my wallet was stolen for the second time in 5 days. 

It might be time to head back to the Western World...