Then Out Came the Sun

Sort of. It was patchy. At least it wasn't raining.

We pass this big Japanese Cherry several times a week while running, but yesterday Katie and I walked the outer wall of Den Bosch for a change. We soaked up Sunday's last bit of sunlight to cap off a pleasantly quiet weekend. More pictures from this walk, as well as other pictures I've taken in the NL can be found in my Facebook album here. Apparently it adds the latest photos to the end of the album.

Another weekend highlight was our Saturday night dinner with some friends at De Pino, an Italian restaurant just around the corner from our apartment. This charming little establishment is quite cozy - a kitchen plus a kitchen-sized dining room separated by narrow register/bar - as there seemed to be room for only 20-30 people. Upon walking in the front door you are practically in the kitchen, so we were immediately greeted by richly seasoned aromas of tomatoes, garlic, onions...I could go on but it's difficult to type on drool-covered keys.

For appetizer we had a dish highly recommended by friends, present company included, that can really only be described as "goat cheese heaven." I could have gone home and died a happy man just after finishing this divine dish of fresh French bread bathing in baked and shredded geitenkaas. As delicious as it was simple, the crisp yet fluffy bread made a perfect carbo-complement to the subtle sour creaminess of its goat cheese bath. Oh, to be that bread...

For an entree I tried the meat lasagna. This dish can be dangerous: I've seen blocks of cheese the size of your head, slabs of pasta overflowing the plate, etc. But this portion was well-controlled and creatively served in a short, walled dish, similar to the appetizer. This meant the lasagna itself could actually sit in ADDITIONAL tomato-cream sauce. Brilliant! Once the straight-from-the-oven heat dissipated I made quick work of this more modest-a pasta. Heavy on the tomatoes and herbs and more controlled with the cheese and meat, it was a well-balanced harmony of ingredients.

No sooner had my friend across the table (who had had the cannelloni) and I found ourselves in the similar predicament of having excess sauce then our waitress appeared bearing more French bread with garlic butter so mouthwateringly fresh, it was practically sprouting roots.

De Pino, your close proximity will doubtless become a blessing and a curse.

Back in the Saddle

A friend recently asked me if I “found it quite different living abroad.” I’m guessing he meant to imply ‘different living abroad from living in the U.S.’ It is a pretty straight-forward question and I think ultimately the one I am often thinking about for writing in this space.

With the hectic excitement of moving to the Netherlands from America I did a poor job of taking any time to reflect about my initial impressions of Dutch people and their country. Now that I’ve spent good couple weeks here and the raw, tumultuous part of the transition is past, I’m starting settle in with the surroundings. And have a few simple thoughts about life being different.

My initial response to my friend’s question was, “no, not particularly.” Maybe that’s a pretty subjective assessment. But other than the absence of a day-to-day job, my way of life is not fundamentally different. I check email, read blogs and online articles, buy groceries at a large chain store, go out to bars and restaurants with friends, etc. None of those feel very different. And, arguably, they are not. We’re not living in a small, remote Dutch village –‘s-Hertogenbosch is a comfortably modern and globalized city that just doesn’t happen to have good BBQ, stuffed pizza, or Seven for All Mankind jeans.

Most of the activities I listed don’t require much face-to-face social interaction, and there is a reason for that. Even with the help of Rosetta Stone, I still find people speaking native Dutch at me to be very intimidating. My vocabulary, pronunciation and confidence are all improving, but the amount I am able to apply them outside the house and my circle of friends is only slowly growing.

Interestingly, the Dutch are not particularly intimidating people. In the past weeks we have visited IKEA, car rental stations, restaurants, bars, and stores and we quickly run out of Dutch things to say, reverting to “Ik spreek kleine Nederlands,” or “In Engels, alstublieft?” Most of the time person we’re speaking with is able to pick right up with pretty decent English. And most of the time they appear happy to do so. It’s a very warm and welcoming experience, though at the same time a little embarrassing.

I think it would be one thing if we were simply tourists, just trying to get around for a few days or weeks on our way to the next country. But in taking residence here I want to feel like I belong, fit in, am not a major imposition on these people. I want to feel like I at least come close to meeting the club membership requirements.

I do feel like less of a tourist with the small (but expanding!) amount of Dutch I can speak with local Den Bosch’ers. For short and or routine exchanges – such as the grocery store checkout line – I know most of the appropriate questions and answers. Even in a longer conversation when the other person realizes I am “amerikanse” and speaks to me in English, I still try to use as much Dutch as I know, even if it’s just nummers or kleuren. So far, people respond to this practice positively: more open body language, approving facial expressions, smiles, laughs, words of encouragement. I can tell they appreciate the effort, just like I appreciate theirs. Awwwwww.