Our Surreal Life

It's been one of those days. Perhaps I grew too familiar with our life here. But suddenly - everywhere I turned today - the situation just didn't quite fit with the mental models I've been developing for these 29 years. And they didn't fit the ones I began acquiring 9 months ago, either.

• The park at the end of our street has been a pile of dirt since April. Today, suddenly, there is a footbridge in the park. And under the bridge there is a canal. This used to be a nice, green field. Who makes the decisions to put a bridge and a canal (with no outlet) in a park?
• Church this afternoon - Romanian, Dutch, and African leaders belting out Vineyard (American) worship music. A discussion of Luther and Reformation Day. A comment how the new Halloween celebrations in this country overshadow Reformation Day. A baptist-style alter call. The same end of service blessing my pastor in Birmingham uses (Now to him who is able...Eph 3:20-21.)
• At the mall, Christmas decorations for sale already. Why do they say, "Jingle Bells" and "Merry Christmas" in English and not in Dutch?
• Lunch at McDonalds. I could have ordered a McChicken, but not Chicken McNuggets. To get those, I would have had to order McNuggetsKip. (Kip is chicken.) Or I could have tried the McCroquette with 100% Rundvlees!
• I ate my lunch in the non-smoking section, but not in the non-dog feeding section. Two dogs at two separate tables. One sat in its owner's lap. The other feasted on the hot fudge sauce left in its owner's sundae cup. (Doesn't chocoloate kill dogs?)
• Shopping - is there anything for sale in this mall without ruffles on it? I feel as if I am in the minority to be shopping without a Muslim head covering.
• Walking from the Metro home, four children sweeping leaves off the sidewalk. Three of them are using brooms fashioned out of reeds and tied together with string - the kind you might picture a witch will use to fly away on. So I'm not the only one who can't find a proper broom here.
• Finally, the pre-teen boy who lives next to us rings our doorbell. "Do you have a key to our house?" he asks. No, we don't. "Well, then," he goes on, "Do you mind if I use the secret passageway to get into my house? I don't have my key." And sure enough, he lifts up the carpet, finds the door in the floor and slips into his own home. "Yeah," he says, "This has been here since the Nazi occupation. The people who lived here used it to hide from the Nazis since they were resistance workers." Ummm...OK.