The Gelderland Smeerkaas Disaster

“Bread and cheese. That’s what your baby needs right now,” advised the nurse at the consultatiebureau a few weeks ago.

I nodded my head. “OK,” I said, although I was thinking it sounded like Dutch-centric advice. Bread and cheese is what this nurse has for lunch every day, more than likely, along with many of her fellow countrymen. That or pea soup. But it couldn’t be that bad: After all, the Dutch are the tallest people in Europe, and they are certainly very healthy. I should have said, “A Big Mac has bread and cheese on it, so that’s OK, right?” But I think she would have missed the joke.

Earlier this week, I decided to take her advice. I sent Dan to the store to buy smeerkaas, a spreadable cheese kind of like the kind I loved as a kid, the kind that came in a can and I could squirt it directly into my mouth. (This doesn’t come in a can, though.) I diligently spread some cheese on small bits of bread and placed the bread bits on Rebecca’s highchair tray.

Little did I know.

Smeerkaas, come to think of it, is sticky. As soon as I placed 5 pieces of bread on Rebecca’s tray, Rebecca had 5 pieces of bread stuck to her hand. Seeing the piece of bread stuck to the middle of her palm, Rebecca would try to eat it, by sticking her palm onto her mouth. Of course, the four pieces stuck to her fingers would end up in on her nose, cheeks, and eye. By the end of the meal, we had smeerkaas smeared everywhere. I muttered to myself, “There must be a secret all Dutch mothers know that I don’t when it comes to feeding 8 month olds smeerkaas.”

Now I make cute little sandwiches with smeerkaas smeared in the middle, which is lessening the smearing of smeerkaas elsewhere. Smart Mommy.

Driver’s Ed

We are sadly counting down the days that our US driver’s licenses are valid here in Holland. Being car dependent once again, Dan has enrolled in driver’s education classes, willingly subjecting himself to learning a litany of rules and regulations (most of which are not followed by most drivers, according to my observations), berating from the instructor (You’re too close to the center line! You didn’t check your five points! You shifted too slowly!), and taking a series of exams (how many, nobody knows). It’ll be my turn if a) I find the courage and b) We don’t go broke paying for Dan’s.

I have been reading the textbook, though, from time to time. Here’s what I’ve learned:
-A horseback rider is a driver. So is a leader of horses or cattle.
-A tractor is a motor vehicle, but a tram is a tram.
-An invalid carriage is not wider than 1.1 meters, but a four-wheel moped is wider that 1.1 meters. Both can only go 45 km/h.
-You must go “dead slow” in an erf.
-The bike path is an official part of the road.

Some of the material is similar to what I learned when I was 15, but some is entirely different, especially those rules related to energy conservation, such as:
-You should not drive with your windows down, because it uses more petrol.
-You must turn off your car if idling for more than 20 seconds.

Then there are the safety rules. Some I don’t understand why they have to be said, some I agree with, and some I don’t:
-Joy-riding is a crime.
-Holding a mobile telephone while driving is illegal.
-Putting a baby in an infant seat in the front seat of a car is permitted (if the air bag is turned off).

I looked quickly for a picture of an invalid carriage on the web, but I couldn’t find one. I’ll keep looking…however, I did find something from the Wikipedia library. Check out the picture.

It's 9:30 in the Evening

We have 1 hour and 16 minutes of daylight left. How much more blue sky will YOU have today?

Taking My Mind Off Things

My dad left yesterday. I was trying to occupy myself on the drive back from Dusseldorf, not wanting to think about the empty house that would be there at the end of the drive. So, here is what I concentrated on:

I decided I was one of the slowest four-wheelers on the autobahn in Germany. The BMWs and Mercedes and other not-so-luxurious cars go much faster than me. But I have a mental block: when I see the speedometer hitting 100, it’s hard to make myself go faster. Nevermind that’s in kilometers per hour. At least in The Netherlads there is a speed limit of 120, so I’m not quite so pokey there, where I do most of my driving.

I did find one car that went slower than me. The driver of this car (is that really allowed on the autobahn?) must have been the bravest person on the road. I wouldn’t want to be in that car amongst trucks 27 times my size and cars going twice my speed. It didn’t even have real wheels. They were more like spare “donuts”.



Once in Holland, I started to dwell on the fact that summer construction is as rampant here as it is in the States. And then I decided it was good for my Dutch vocabulary. There are bright yellow signs everywhere saying “omleiding” and then telling us what letter to “volg” for the detour. It’s a smart system: every detour is given a letter or a number that the people on the detour should follow. Then there are signs posted every several meters with that letter or number. Since some detours cross, it’s better than just putting up a “detour” sign.




Then, I got home, and thankfully I didn’t have too long to be sad. The little girl starting singing to herself, then crawling around, then she got a bad case of the hiccups. Who can be sad when there is a crawling hiccupping baby to watch?

Later in the day, I visited the people who are vacationing next door to us. Earlier in the day, I spied a baby about Rebecca’s age. Turns out, that little girl is only 3 hours younger than Rebecca! And they were born at the same hospital!

I Don't Know What Direction I Was Facing

In The Netherlands, the clouds are our mountains.

Post, except title, picture and "The Netherlands" reference, unashamedly copied from a blogger whose life is parallel mine in a scary number of ways.

Don’t Tell Dan

In a haze not so long ago, I bought wasverzachter instead of wasmiddel and I used it on loads and loads of clothes. Oops. Guess I’m still not used to the brands of fabric softener vs. laundry detergent. But one thinks I could at least read…

Biker Baby

Grandpa bought Rebecca a windscreen for her Bobike babyseat, so biking has been nicer for Little One. Her eyes don’t water and get all bloodshot from the wind in her face, and the bugs don’t get plastered to her face. (OK, so I never saw a bug on her face, but it is a possibility, given the number of them I’ve swallowed.) Anyway, she loves riding the bike. She grips the handlebars and says, “RRRRrrrr.” She pats and pets my hand. She hangs her right arm down to touch my knee every time I pedal. She watches the sheep and the cows and the cars. And today, she waved at all of them, too.

(This is also published on Rebecca's blog...if I know you and you would like access to it, please let me know!)

Sporting Woes

My sport-watching fanaticism is continuing. Verlander pitched a no-hitter this week, and I didn’t even have a chance to watch it. And now Phil is on the course RIGHT now at the U.S. Open, so says my trusty msn.com, and it’s nearly my bedtime.

Parade of Visitors and Their Observations

We’ve now hosted 8 people in the last 6 weeks. And there is still one more to come! Actually, this year has been wonderful, with visits from other friends as well earlier in the year. Having a baby is good for refining hospitality giftings!

Anyway, it’s been fun to listen to our visitors’ observations about what strikes them. By no means have I completely adapted to life here; I still giggle when I see mothers with three children loaded on her bike and I will never grow tired of seeing the green, green pastures. There are things I don’t notice anymore, though. Off the top of my head, here are some:

-Windows open funny. They swing like a door and they open from the top at a slight angle.
-Attic bedrooms make for great games of bonking heads.
-Yards are called gardens.
-“zuid” is pronounced “zoud”, not “zoo-eed”
-Streets are narrow.
-Can’t understand people around you, but as an English speaker, if you try you can understand a lot of the signs around. Dutch is sometimes similar to English and there are also a lot of English words mixed into the language.

If Only The Netherlands Were Closer

My friend’s father died last week. He was my chauffeur throughout high school, giving my friend and me rides to school every morning. He scared the living daylights out of me one Halloween as I walked up the front steps by popping out the door wearing a gruesome mask. He took us ice fishing and made us popcorn during our sleepovers. He raised two outstanding daughters and was enjoying being a grandfather.

My heart hurts for my friend. I wish I could be there for her and her family like she and her family were there for me in high school. It’s one of those times when I wish the Atlantic Ocean wasn’t quite so big.