Old Loves and New Loves

I went to New York for a week. An old love, sadly neglected for twenty years. It felt like meeting up with an old friend, getting off the bus at Bryant Park and walking some ten blocks up to my hotel. I missed a turn somewhere, but got caught up in the bustle of the city and felt at home and happy.

The trip was very much about renewing old friendships and acquaintances, meeting up with people I hadn't seen for a while, and realising the connection was still there. It never ceases to amaze me that you can have people in your life you don't see for years but when you meet them again you simply pick up where you left off and if feels like years ago is yesterday. I've had that happen with a few people, and that is precious to me.

It was also about visiting old favourites like the Museum of Natural History, The Metropolitan Museum and the MoMA. Good to be back, even though some rooms were closed, others brought back good memories. My experiences over the past fifteen years gave me a different perspective on the Museum of Natural History and make me want to go back and just take a full day there. I felt the same in Central Park. I had been there before, but that was before I developed an interest in birds. So now I got to see all these new birds, and I would love to see more!

Then there was the theatre. So much on offer and so little time. I was looking forward to seeing Roger Rees again, and on Broadway for the first time, and I was not disappointed. "The Visit" has much to offer apart from Roger too, I love Kander and Ebb's music, then there is the legendary Chita Rivera, some wonderful young performers, and a design that blends in with the lovely old Lyceum Theatre. It was lovely to meet Roger after the show and get some heartfelt hugs.

I hadn't realised I got to New York just as all the new shows opened or started previewing. I thoroughly enjoyed "It Shoulda Been You", with so many wonderful performances. Then "It's Only a Play" with the brilliant Nathan Lane holding it all together. The Brits were there, and I got to see "Wolf Hall" after all. Helen Mirren granted an audience as Queen Elizabeth, though I loved Richard McCabe's performance in that one even more. Then "On the Town" and "Hedwig and the Angry Inch", two New York musicals, but so different. The lovely tradition of "On the Town", and the raw new feeling of Hedwig.

For My Friend

Some 20 years ago I worked for a small company that once in a while sent me on business trips to the UK. I travelled to London, Manchester and other places, business class, just flying in for the day to give presentations about the company. I usually travelled with the company director.

Travelling back from Manchester one day, this time on my own, I ended up in a queue at the airport check-in. I got talking to a man standing right behind me, not sure why, I wasn't one to talk to strangers, not sure what we talked about, but we both enjoyed the conversation. I went into the business class lounge for a drink, but quickly got bored, so I went out again to look for the man I met in the queue. I'd only just left the lounge when I met him again, on his way in. He talked his way into the lounge to find me, saying I was a friend of his. We sat down and talked more, and we found out we had a lot in common. The Pre-Raphaelites, Wallace and Gromit, English language and literature, our sense of humour. But basically we just connected.

He was on his way to a new life, working in Malaysia, and he was nervous. He was nervous about flying, about the changes in his life. I was having some problems at the time too.

As we went in for the flight I found out he also managed to get the seat next to me. He got me to hold his hand during the flight because he was so nervous. Looking back I'm still not sure if he really was scared, or if this was just a pretext. It's not that important, knowing him both could be true. We talked and talked, and felt completely at ease with each other. We talked more at Schiphol Airport until we had to say goodbye because he had to catch his connecting flight. We kissed goodbye and he went. Later he told me his flight got severely delayed and he spent several more hours by himself at the airport.

We had exchanged contact details, and that meant I knew all about him immediately because he wrote his address on the back of his CV. Over the next few months we talked on the phone a lot, we wrote long letters, he sent me flowers. He worked hard in Malaysia, I sorted out my problems He got his mum to send me a couple of books on the Pre-Raphaelites, his Wallace and Gromit t-shirt covered in cat hairs, and a box-set of Rush CDs. He sent me pictures of life out there. I still have all the letters and the pictures. We helped each other through some tough times.

Both our lives changed over the years. I moved to Amsterdam to be with the man I loved, I got a job there. He worked hard and played hard out there, eventually moving to Thailand to be a teacher. He always was a very committed teacher, believing in the students and the value of a good education, but railing against the unfairness of the Thai system.

He came to see me in Amsterdam once. When I went to pick him up we just got talking again, and we were so absorbed in the conversation it took me some time to realize we'd taken a tram in the wrong direction an we were travelling away from my house. He arrived in winter when it was cold and one of the first things we did was buy a winter jacket. It was brown, checkered, and it was in my suitcase of winter clothes for many years, just in case he decided to visit again.

Sometimes we lost touch for a while, I was sometimes not quite sure where he was or how he was. Then the internet, email, chat, facebook, suddenly enabled us to communicate much more easily. We could chat, talk and see each other. The most important thing was, however, that the real connection was never lost. Even if we didn't speak for a long time, once we did it was all okay. He often helped me when I needed the help, not by giving the obvious answers but by asking the difficult questions. Sometimes we didn't agree, but we never really quarreled. He always supported me, no matter what, sometimes not saying what he was so obviously thinking. He could make me smile at the toughest times, and his unending faith in me strengthened me when I had no faith in myself. Even when I was in a mess he would tell me he never worried about me because he knew I would be fine.

He also told me not to worry about him, but I sometimes did. When I heard the diagnosis so many years ago now. When we talked about his relationship, his job, all the health scares over the years. There was never that much I could do apart from talk and listen, but that was enough.

When I came over to Manchester to see him a few years ago, I got to see another side of him. Surrounded by family he loved and who loved him, in the place where he grew up. I got to know him a little better again. We visited the Manchester Art Gallery together, those wonderful Pre-Raphaelites. We only had a couple of days, and it was quite overwhelming for both of us. He told me he wasn't happy about leaving all that behind again, and going back to Thailand was hard.

When I told him I wanted to come and see him in Manchester he was speechless fo a moment as if he couldn't believe I would do that for him, or for the chance to see him. But he also told me he'd been looking at flights to Amsterdam to come and see me. That was important to me, it confirmed to me that we both held the friendship dear.

Both he and I have done some pretty stupid things over the years, but we never judged each other. We both have pretty strong opinions but there has always been a great deal of genuine respect for the other as a person, a great acceptance and affection.

When he told me he was ill last year I was very sad to know he would be gone soon. When I asked him if there was anything I could do he asked for liquorice. I went out form work, bought three bags, and sent them off by express post. The postage was 12 times the value of the parcel but I had to do something.

He posted a picture on Facebook about ending up with people that make you feel all alone and that made me very sad. I am just so happy that he came home, that he wasn't alone at the end but surrounded by family and friends, and that he was well taken care off. I am also very happy I got to see him again, so we could say goodbye. Those two days at the hospital we talked again. Or, to be honest, he mainly talked and I listened. I think there was a lot he needed to sort out in his head, and talking helped. We sat in his room, or went outside so he could smoke. He hated not being able to eat and taste his food, but he encouraged me to eat and not to mind him.

I will miss him, knowing that on another continent someone has such faith in you and is always able to make you smile. Then again, wherever he may be now, I don't think that will stop somehow.

Mr Cleese

When I saw the announcement I wasn't that sure if going was a good idea. Even after I'd booked my tickets I had my doubts. When I went over to the theatre, I got completely drenched just walking from the tram stop to the theatre. It wasn't sold out, but there were a lot of people there. Students, because it was the college tour recording, but a lot of older fans, fans from the period of Monty Python, the films and "Fawlty Towers".

When it started the lights went off and the theatre went very dark. But that only lasted a minute. For the remainder of the evening the lights were on, both on stage and in the house. Five big cameras, a few smaller ones, but they didn't get in the way. Men in dark clothes with microphones walking round the theatre, looking for those who wanted to ask a question.

Twan Huys did the introduction to camera, in Dutch, and then he was there. John Cleese, master of comedy. He got a huge applause, as expected, sat down, and began the show. The questions were mixed, like the audience. Some good, some terrible, some to show the intellectual or humorous side to the person asking the question. They were all answered by a consummate professional who has done this dozens of times before. He made his jokes about the Germans, the French, the Scandinavians, the Belgians, but not a word against the Dutch. Of course.

They showed quite a few old sketches, the obvious ones like the dead parrot sketch and the ministry of silly walks. Some "Fawlty Towers" and "Life of Brian". Slightly predictable, and maybe not the most interesting bits for the man himself.

The thing is, he was funniest when he was just left to tell the story. He obviously knows exactly how to do that, how to grab and hold on to the attention of the audience. His timing was immaculate, the stories funny, just long enough. It is obvious he´s done this often before. You don´t get a sense he is here for the alimony, though he is. The two men on stage talk for almost two hours, and it doesn´t get boring at all. I could happily have sat there a little longer, listening to the stories.

The end was as sudden as the start. He decides it´s time to call it a day, gets up, takes a bow and disappears. The applause doesn´t get him back, he just walks past behind the scenery, waving, and won´t come back to join the audience in singing `The Bright Side of Life`. So we get to do it by ourselves.

After the song Twan Huys returns to the stage. Cleese won´t come back. The last words are `Tell them I´ve had a heart attack`.

Cycling Holiday

10 Things I learned while on vacation

1. You never stop playing yellow car.
2. There are more museums dedicated to the Second World War than I had ever imagined possible.
3. Sometimes you really should not visit a town you sense to be totally uninteresting.
4. There is a Kruidvat everywhere.
5. After the war 4000 celebration skirts were registered.
6. I can cycle from one end of my country to the other, though not in one day.
7. It is possible to cycle for a day and not get caught in a thunder storm even though there are plenty around you.
8. There are too many cars.
9. I need to make a few changes.
10. Some places in my country are actually above sea level.

A Bestiary

When I was at university I studied two subjects in great detail . One was Restoration Comedy, those stylish, witty plays full of adultery, double entendre, lechery, and the odd virtuous character. The other was the medieval bestiary, the descriptions of animals often not seen by the author, both in pictures and in words. Ancient language and imaginative pictures.

Last week the actress Isabella Rossellini presented her version of the Bestiary, the Bestiaire d'Amour. Rossellini has been an actress and a model, still is, but she has been interested in biology for a long time. She has taken time to study the subject and has combined it with her work as an actress. This has resulted in a number of short films on the reproduction of all kinds of animals. She plays them herself, the duck, the hamster, the squid, explaining the peculiarities of each animal's sex life. The seduction, the sexual act or absence of one, giving birth, taking care of the babies. She explains the facts with a great understanding and a great sense of humour. The infinite variety of life is illustrated in her stories.

The short films are now part of a live theatre performance. There is a lectern for her lecture, for much of the performance she is dressed in simple, stylish black which does not detract from the films, the stories or the props. The stories are illustrated on stage with various props and one or two costume changes, all carelessly discarded and left on the stage. She tells her story quietly, gently, but with the same sense of humour you see in the films, and with passion.

She is obviously fascinated by her subject, the animals, she knows what she is talking about, and her acting enable her to inhabit the animals rather than just talk about them. Watching her was a joy.

Leonard

When I last saw Leonard Cohen I didn't think I would get to see him on stage again. He toured the world for the fifth year in a row, and I saw him for the sixth time. I travelled to Bruges, Bruxelles and Ghent, and attended the concert here in the Westerpark in Amsterdam. The first concert I saw was in Bruges, on a rainy evening, outside in a park. It was a beautiful setting, a festival site with big pink Flamingos stuck on lamp posts. Umbrellas, rain, a fairly small stage, and intimate surroundings. Martha Wainwright opened the show for him, but soon after he did without an opening act. He needed the time for his own show.

A friend would be joining me but he got stuck in traffic and arrived late, so he ended up a little further back in the crowd. The decoration of the venue lead him to send me one of the best text messages I ever received: "I will meet you after the concert at the crashed flamingo". I felt very Cambridge spies. Just one of my memories of that night, along with the umbrellas, the intimacy.

Leonard had just gotten back to touring, I had read some reports, but was not entirely sure what to expect. I had never heard him sing live before, I had only come to appreciate his music a few years before the concerts because I was living with a man who was a great fan. It took a while for me to get used to the sound, the voice, and to learn to appreciate those and the words. We travelled to Bruges from Amsterdam, full of expectation, but not too sure about what we would get, but we were not disappointed. It was just wonderful to hear all those songs we knew so well, to see this man perform on stage, such a wonderful personality. He kept saying nice things about the members of his band, a little too much maybe. During later concerts he kept his thankyous much shorter.

That first concert was quite intimate. Maybe they chose smaller venues because there was no indication just how many people might turn up. A few days after the first concert he came to Amsterdam, to the Westerpark. Bigger than the Minnewaterpark, more open, but a little less wet too. During the concert we even got a beautiful rainbow. More room here, more air, a different atmosphere. But still the magic of the songs, the voice and the man.

For the next tours the venues seemed to get bigger. The winter concerts indoor, but a preference for outdoor in the summer, the big square in Gent, a magical venue, surrounded by very old building in the evening light, and the Olympic Stadium in Amsterdam. It took me a while to remember that, as a member of the forum, I could use advance booking so I could get good seats for most venues. In Amsterdam, the last concert at the Ziggo Dome, I was in row 4, a great view. This was the final European concert, one day before his 79th birthday. Lots of singing in the audience too that night.

I still find it hard to believe I got to see this man in concert six times, enjoyed every single time, and found special moments in all concerts. I got to appreciate different songs, at different concerts. I completely love "Famous Blue Raincoat", and now I understand why that is the one everyone seems to be waiting for.

It was strange, the setlist remained more or less the same over the years, the jokes were often the same, the introductions, but the familiarity gave the concerts their intimacy. Small touches changed, but there was a shared past and experience that added to it all. In the end it was all about the songs, those beautiful words and feelings, and about the man, the gentleness, the humility and the joy. It is hard to describe it all, to put it into words, all I know is that they are evenings I will never forget.

Hella

A few years ago I watched a documentary on the writer Hella Haasse. It was an interview, held in her own appartment in the centre of Amsterdam. Watching this documentary I recognised the place, the view from her window. It was almost in the park that is my backyard, close to the city centre, and on my way into and home from work. I often walk past there on my way to the centre. From the day I saw that documentary I always looked up to that building as I cycled or walked past and thought of the lady in there.

Over the years I have read most of her books, I have enjoyed them, almost lived them, and they have come alive for me in other ways too. On a cycling holiday in the eastern part of the country I recognised the landscapes and houses she described in the Dutch historical novels, and I could see the world she created in them. I could just imagine running into one of the characters.

Watching her on television she always struck me as a very sensible, kind person. The kind of person you would like to get to know. She seemed like a person with a strong opinion, a sense of humour and great compassion, which is what you find in her books as well. An intelligent woman.

When I read that she had died it was a shock. She was 93, I knew she was frail, but still. Knowing that she is no longer in that building at the entrance to the park is a sad thought, and it will be a while before I don't look up anymore.

Oma

Three generations

My grandmother's birthday again. She was born 102 years ago, and she died 42 years ago. When she was born most of the twentieth century was still to come. Neither Amundsen nor Scott, nor anyone else, had reached the South Pole. No big wars to end all wars yet. Hardly any cars or trains, no real big cities, very few people taking holidays abroad. When she died, at the end of the sixties, there were no computers, no mobile phones, just a couple of tv channels. We have come so far in such a short time, and it feels like an entire way of life has vanished in just one generation.

Life is Skittles

Meteorologists everywhere tell me spring started today. So can one of them also tell me why my feet are so cold, why I am shivering even though I have the heating on? I know my house isn't the best insulated in the street, but still. Those same meteorologists also tell me that temperatures will go below zero during the nights still this week. So I will continue to be cold for a while. And yet again, in the tree opposite my living room window this afternoon I saw a couple of pigeons. Very romantic, obviously preparing for spring. So I guess, it's just around the corner, really, just around the corner. And if I try really hard, I can see it heading this way. Slowly.

Wellness

I have rediscovered the sauna. Over the past couple of years life was busy. Always rushing, not necessarily achieving all that much, but rushing anyway. And just lately, I have taken the time to go swimming again. Not feeling rushed, but taking my time. And after swimming I sit or lie down and relax in the sauna. I get warm, just lie there, and there isn't anything else I can do really. I guess you need to make sure you don't fall asleep, but that is more or less it. Lie back, close your eyes and get nice and warm. I like that in these cold winter times. After spending much of the day in the house, getting a bit chilly, it is just lovely to get warmed up again. And to be forced not to do anything except soak up the heat. A girl could get used to that.

Lenette

There is a very Dutch theatre art form, cabaret. It is comedy, sometimes political, topical, which goes a little beyond comedy. The best performers manage to make you laugh till your sides hurt, while making you think as well. They all have their own message, their own style, their own brand of humour. I have my favourites.

One of the best is Lenette van Dongen. After hearing it all from the men, it is good to hear modern life as experienced by a woman. It is a different perspective, and one closer to my own. I went to see her new programme, and it was all it should be. Not too much politics, but plenty of modern life in all its absurdities. The latest trends in outdoor gear, compulsive happiness, social media, electric toothbrushes all made an appearance. At times maybe a little too close for comfort. So, yes, I laughed, I recognised what Lenette said, I even have that very electric toothbrush. So I took the message home, but it didn't weigh me down. Just right.

Guilty Pleasures

Over the weekend I went over to have dinner with a couple of friends. On the way I went to get some chocolates for them. Not just chocolates, actually, but Puccini chocolates, the most exquisite little chocolate works of art you can find here in Amsterdam, and some of the most unusual flavours. And just as I had ordered a box for my friends I heard myself ordering a second one. Just for me. Not a big box, the smallest they have. But still. I did feel guilty, carrying this box home, these lovely big pieces of chocolate with all their exotic tastes.

And over the past few days I have eaten them all. Cranberry, Pecan, Mint, Vanilla Poppyseed, Rum Currant, Honey, Rhubarb. Getting the box out in the morning, taking one, checking in the little booklet which one it was, then slowly taking small bites and enjoying the taste. Repeating the same ritual in the evening, always taking just the one. So, guilty? Just a little. Pleasure? A great deal.

Cricklewood

I subscribe to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography's daily email, which means I get the life story of a king, a queen, a statesman, an artist, a scientist in a daily email. Someone famous, someone who has made a contribution to society, a life written down in a few hundred words. If you check the website you get a picture as well. Sometimes I don't take the time to read the life, sometimes I learn something new about someone I already knew something about, and sometimes I make the acquaintance of an unknown.

Today it was the life story of our man in Cricklewood, and that can be only one man. I first heard the voice of Alan Coren when I started listening to the News Quiz, many years ago. I loved listening to the man's voice and to his stories. He was able to tell a story with passion, with just the right turn of phrase, and could hold your attention. When he was on a roll I could be laughing aloud for a while, just listening to him talk. He told stories in a way only he could, and you never quite knew where he was heading. His dancing lesson from the sergeant was a great example, and from the way he told the story you could see it all happening right in front of
your eyes. And just once he burst into song, and gave a wonderful rendition of Lili Marleen, in German, much to the amazement of the others on the News Quiz, and, I'm sure, many members of the audience. I used to record the programme on cassette and listen to the various episodes over and over again. Listening to old recordings the same stories can still make me laugh every time.

Some people in your life have the power to bring a smile to your face when you hear or see their name, when you see their picture or hear their voice. Usually these are people you know personally, that you care about and that you share good memories with. And just occasionally it is someone you don't know personally, but who has made you laugh. Alan Coren is one of those people for me, listening to his stories again brings a smile to my face, reading his life story did as well.

View From the Window

In the office, early this morning.

Anticipation

Sometimes you see it before you feel it.

DIY

It's been a long time since I've done any DIY, I realised this morning, as I stood there in the attic with a paint roller in my hand. I still knew how to do all that, but I had to borrow some old clothes as I no longer have my work clothes. Meanwhile, a lot was going on around me, and there were the usual debates on the best and most efficient way to get the work done. Suddenly you understand why those tough guys working on the roads stand around with their hands in their pockets so much, there is a lot to think about. We got the work done quickly this time. And very efficiently, I'm sure, thanks to our initial attention to organisation. Isn't that just the way it always goes.

Invaded?

Cycling into work today I noticed sponges in two places. Just plain, ordinary yellow household sponges lying in the street, the kind that remind you of Sponge Bob. Is this a sign? Are we being invaded by sponges from outer space? Is it time for the big city cleanup? Is there a cleaner at work somewhere realising he has lost half his tools? So many questions, and so few answers.

Stones

When I was in Edinburgh earlier this year I found a tiny shop almost right next to the hostel, Mr Wood's Fossils. There was a collection of fossils, minerals and meteorites there that I found fascinating. Since I've been working as a guide I have become more interested in those things anyway, and this was a lovely shop. I spent a long time there, looking at all the items on display, and I actually left carrying a few stones, and a small piece of Jasper.

Jasper to me is connected to the Antarctic, to Hannah Point on the South Shetland Islands. There is a streak of Jasper near Suicide Point, always fascinating to see. You are not allowed to take any with you, and though I have found bits of Jasper on the beach, and certainly was tempted, I did behave. I did buy a couple of pieces from Mr Wood's shop though, so I can have a look at them once in a while. I also bought a piece of Bloodstone, the stone that might have attracted people to live on Rum. This piece isn't from Rum, though, I should have bought a piece there, of course. Next time.

Since my visit to the shop I've been looking at stones more often. I checked out the stones at Naturalis, and just the other day at a small shop in Amsterdam. And I've been following Mr. Woods Fossils through his weblog. There is such a great variety in colour, just in stones, again so much to know and learn. New fields.

The Company of Monks

I went to work, by tram for a change, and listened to music along the way. Not just music, but the music of monks. I recently heard a radio programme on Ambrosian Plainsong and was fascinated, so I went out to find some more. I ended up with some Gregorian chant, which I found wonderfully calming.

So this morning, in a crowded tram, crossing crowded streets, there was such peace, it was lovely but alienating. I felt detached from my surroundings. I got the feeling back I had on Iona, the sense of quiet, of great peace. As easy as that.

The Diver and His Niece

When I was staying at Harberton earlier this year the little giant visited Santiago. The girl, created by Royal de Luxe, completely took over the city for three days, and her visit was shown live on Chilean television. At Harberton that is the television you get, so my host sat and watched much of the spectacle. I joined him a few times and was quite amazeda at the event. Could it be possible to create such huge characters and still make them believable and provide them with a soul of sorts. On screen it all looked pretty impressive and convincing.



Then the party came over to Antwerp, just when I had a morning to spare there. I went out into the city centre quite early, to look for the Diver or the Little Giant, and found the Diver. He was just getting ready to move on, and walked past me into busy streets, followed by a huge crowd. I took a shortcut and managed to arrive right in front of the Diver as he passed the small boat that was on its way to pick up the Little Giant. The Diver got cleaned along the way, by his escort, and took in his surroundings. It was a moving and overwhelming sight.



I had no time to seek out the Little Giant, but I will catch up with her one day, I'm sure. I might even get to see the Sultan's Elephant.

Mr Cohen

I went to see Leonard Cohen again. Late August, a beautiful sunny evening in Ghent. After all the rain, a dry day and evening, a beautiful sunset, and a great concert out in the square. Some 8000 people probably, but it didn't feel quite so big. The setting was quite intimate. For the first part of the concert we still had daylight, so everything was clear and easy to watch. I sat quite far back, but I had brought my binoculars, and the big screens helped. Then there were the beautiful pink and orange skies, the bright moon lighting those lovely old buildings, and changing the atmosphere to the intimacy of darkness and late night. Mr cohen played for about three hours, lively, and intimate, with that golden voice. The perfect night.

The Game

So, WE got to play another match, against Cameroon. WE are through to the next round already, but still, time to party. I decided to go shopping around 8 p.m. I thought it would be nice and quiet, and it was. On the way down there were still a few people around, lots of people in orange t-shirts, hats, and other accessories. It was lovely and sunny, so it all looked pretty good. Once I got to the supermarket I had the place virtually to myself. No one pushing in the isles, no avoiding trolleys, just empty lanes and a chance to get everything quickly. And then there still was a queue at the checkout, because only one was available. But it was a tiny queue and I was happy. I think the next game is on Monday, 4 p.m....

Sunday in the Park in Amsterdam

About 20 years ago I was at the National Theatre in London to see a production of "Sunday in the Park with George". I didn't know the piece, and didn't know much about Sondheim. The production blew me away. There was Maria Friedman, just perfect for the part, the setting and design just perfect, and the piece and the music itself. Some of the lyrics are forever in my mind, they just pop up at weird moments, for strange reasons. Like some other songs, actually, but that is another story.

Then this month the first professional Dutch production is on in Amsterdam, so I had to go and see it. It's part of the Sondheim festival, celebrating the man's 80th birthday. I cycled up to the M-lab, a wonderful place on the river IJ, a lovely view over the water. Like an island in the Seine maybe? I like the theatre, no frills, just seats and a stage, all attention going to the production. Like the Donmar.

Then the production. I enjoyed it, it moved me, and I was impressed by the performances and the translation. Sondheim's lyrics are hard to sing in English, so they cannot be easy in Dutch, and translating them must be a tough job. I know the lyrics well, and there were some very nice finds in the translation. The production was a little smaller than the London one, but no less effective, and the actors managed to fill the painting, even with a smaller group of characters.

It is such a beautifully constructed piece, obviously well thought out, and it all fits like the painting. But the piece also has a heart, a story, and characters to care about. That is what makes it special. You can admire what the mind has put together, and feel the emotion too. That is what makes it so perfect.

I loved the way the lead actors played the characters, the way the songs were sung. The passion that was in the piece. We need more Sondheim.

Birding Spring

It's been a good spring for raising birds in my street. I had a family of Blue Tits living in the box attached to my window. Towards the end of their breeding season they were threatened by the Great Spotted Woodpecker that was trying to raise a family in the trees at the end of the street. He clung to my wall once in a while, trying to get into the box. I love woodpeckers, and I guess they do eat young Blue Tits, but they're not having mine if I can help it.

Then I keep hearing Short-toed Treecreepers, they have a nest somewhere round here too. And then today I got to see the evidence.



The one thing really missing this year in this street are the Swifts. I see them high up in the air, or hunting round my tree, but they don't seem to be breeding here anymore. A great loss.

The AJ Platform

After my trip earlier this month I couldn't resist the temptation and I went back. The main reason to pick this weekend was the Alex Jennings platform at the National Theatre. The chance to hear Alex talk for an hour on his life and career was too good to resist. I met up with Penny before the platform started, we took a short walk along the river and had some lunch, and then sat and listened to the interview. I enjoyed it and heard some news to put up on the AJ Diaries. Always good to get Alex news firsthand. It seems like he will be working abroad for most of the year, in Japan and Paris, resuming earlier roles. I'm still hoping he's going to do some Sondheim in the not too distant future.

Then there was "The Real Thing" at the Old Vic. Toby Stephens in a Stoppard play. I had forgotten how much I like Stoppard. I think "The Real Thing" was the first Stoppard play I saw quite a few years ago, the original production, but I couldn't remember much of it. This was a lively production with all the layers coming out. Good to see Toby Stephens again after a very long time.

Time for other London pastimes too. After my visit to Manchester earlier this year I wanted to go back to the Tate to see the Pre-Raphaelites. I like the way the Tate is organised and designed, plenty of room for the paintings, and beautiful, warm colours. It is the colours in the paintings that always strike me too. Somehow reproductions in books and on postcards never get the blue quite right, you don't get the real shades unless you are looking at the original paintings. And all the detail that gets lost in reproductions too, especially when it comes to the Pre-Raphaelites, where details are so important.






And talking about details, I couldn't help wondering once or twice whether London is going Dutch....

Back in London

It feels like a very long time since I was last in London, and it probably is, but it is good to be back. The city always changes but manages to stay the same. There are sights and sounds that I love, and that make me feel at home. It is good to find old familiar bookshops, though some seem to have disappeared, and others appeared. It is good to wander round Covent Garden, to see the theatres and think of all the productions I've seen over the years.

I love to walk across Waterloo Bridge, especially late at night, after a performance at the National Theatre or the Old Vic. I don't know what it is about that bridge, the sights, the sounds, the smells, or whether it is just the associations. Memories of walking towards the National Theatre in the daylight, full of expectation, of great plays and performances, and then feeling the cool wind in your hair afterwards, seeing the City and St. Paul in the one direction, the Houses of Parliament in the other, with the play still fresh in your mind.




This time I had the rare opportunity to see both my favourites in one day. I got to see Roger Rees in the afternoon, playing opposite Ian McKellen in "Waiting for Godot" and then Alex Jennings in "The Habit of Art" in the evening at the National. Both wonderful performances. Good to be back in both the Haymarket and the Lyttelton Theatre. It was Roger Rees who first got me interested in the London Theatre, when, long ago I first saw his Nicholas Nickleby on television, and then I got to see him play Hamlet in London. It was actually his Berowne that I really loved, though I've never seen a more impressive Hamlet. Just a few years later I first saw Alex Jennings, again at the RSC, his first season. I've had many opportunities since to see Alex at work in London, but Roger has been working in the US mainly. It was good to see both of them back in London, in such different but interesting productions. More!

Winter

Sitting in the office today, in another little closet because "mine" has been taken over by the company Christmas presents, I could see the snowy fog closing in. The rooftops stayed white, the pavements a little white. Cycling into work I managed to fall, of course, when I had to use the brakes just as I had to turn a corner and I had to give way to another cyclist. No damage, I just got my trousers wet falling in the snow.

Cycling back home tonight was okay, fortunately. We had our office Christmas party, and so I cycled home with a bottle of champagne in my bag. Not a good time to fall.

Zita

The day after Zita in Paradiso. I saw Zita Swoon a few years ago in Paradiso and was very impressed. I like the music and Stef Kamil Carlens has great presence and charisma. He moves into the music, and moves with the music. There is so much energy on stage.

The rhythms can be hypnotic.

Last night's concert had great variety. It started with Stef Kamil on his own, playing some quieter songs with just the guitar. Then the girls came on stage and gradually the whole band came on. He had some guests joining in as well. First the Dutch singer songwriter Spinvis, who told a Christmas story, and sang a song, interwoven with "I Feel Alive In the City". I wasn't too sure about this at first, I have mixed feelings about Spinvis, but this worked very well.

Then one of the highlights of the evening when two members of dEUS, Stef Kamil's former band came up on stage, Tom Barman and violin player Klaas Janzoons. They played an old dEUS song as well as a Velvet Underground song. I never saw the old dEUS on stage, and very much enjoyed this little reunion.

The show looked good again, with Stef Kamil in bright red and yellow.

Winter?

The rooftops are white, I wore gloves cycling into work this morning, and there was some salt on the Skinny Bridge. Is it going to be winter here after all?

Ramses Shaffy

The minister for culture said he carried his feelings straight under his skin, and that his vocal cords sat directly on his soul.

Radio Comedy

I just saw on the Unofficial offical website that "I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue" will be back again from next week, with Jack Dee in the chair. When Humph died I wasn't too sure about the series continuing, he set the tone for the show, and I did feel that tradition could not really be continued. For the first series after his death there were three chairmen, I liked the way Stephen Fry did the job, he had the toughest challenge, being the first. Rob Brydon did well too, but I guess Jack Dee has the same kind of deadpan attitude Humph had. The series wasn't quite the same as it was, but it has life in it yet.

My News Quiz has been back too. The cast has changed completely since I first started listening, back in the days when Alan Coren, Richard Ingrams and Ian Hislop were the regulars. Now Sandy Toksvig rules, and you get the voices of Jeremy Hardy, Andy Hamilton and Fred MaCauley. And they do make me laugh.

There are so many good comedians and comedy shows to listen to these days. And there is such a lot of history there too. It might easily become an addiction.

I do love radio comedy!

Almost Breakfast Time

On my way to work today I noticed the lettering over the new shop in the PC. And I could just peek inside, it looks almost finished, so I guess it's nearly opening time. Wonder what it will look like, and whether it will have the atmosphere of its New York counterpart. I'll have to go and have a look around soon.

The Spirit of Winter

A day out today, walking in the Oostvaardersplassen. The forecast said dry, a little foggy in the morning, and cold. Well, two out of three ain't bad, they say. I was with good friends, it was dry all day, it was cold, but throughout the day we never could see for more than about 50 metres. It was a lovely day, with a real sense of winter, a feeling of Sinterklaas, hot chocolate and speculaas, and a slightly mysterious atmosphere.



It was a lovely walk, and we got to see a Bittern, and Egret, Bearded Tits and a few more birds. The park was full of toadstools and funghi, mosses and lichens. It was quite obvious that winter has set in outside the city a little earlier than inside the city. The trees looked bare and there was little colour left. It was all very beautiful though, another side to the country.

Autumn and Dusk

I like this time of year, because it is a time of change. The light changes, it is no longer light when you go to bed, or when you get up. Soon I will be cycling to and from work in the dark again. It is getting dark now, and over the roofs across the street I could see the pinkish light that always reminds me of the far south. It's beautiful.

Coming back from my shopping this morning, I also noticed the colour of the leaves. The trees are slowly changing from green to red, brown and yellow, and soon they will be bare again. The streets are covered with leaves in various colours.

It is getting colder too, especially in this house, which is not very well insulated, and where I don't often have the heating on. No time to eat salads and drink juice, but a good time for stews, Turkish coffees, hot chocolates and Beerenburg. A good time to curl up on the sofa, under a sleeping bag, with a hot drink and some chocolate.

It is getting on for Sinterklaas, that time of year, when you see the Speculaas in the shops again, and all the other sweet things associated with the old Bishops birthday celebrations. And I guess soon we will get the first Christmas decorations in the shopping centres.

This is also the time of year, when you are more likely to get wet. I need to bring my weatherproof gear whenever I go in to work, or cycle somewhere else. And I need to go up to the attic once in a while to make sure no water is seeping in through the windows and the roof. Sleeping upstairs mean you sometimes get woken by the sound of rain on the roof.

For a while life will be based much more inside the house, which is the cosiness of the season. For now that is fine, but I know that in a little while I will start looking forward to the light and the openness of spring. That I will start missing the sunshine and the light, the warmth. That I will look forward to the time when I don't need to wear three pairs of socks and three sweaters when I'm in the house, but can just wear a t-shirt, and can go back to bare feet in sandals. I'll be waiting for the next season of change again pretty soon.

Myn Sjirurch

Every once in a while, when I have a cold, when it is cold, when I'm not feeling too well, or when I cannot sleep, I look for a natural, medicinal cure. My miracle drink is called Beerenburg. There is a Dutch singer, or I should say a Frysian singer, who shares my opinion and who has written a song to celebrate the medicinal properties of the drink. the song is called "De Bearenburch is myn Sjirurch", or the Beerenburg is my doctor. It confirms that this herbal drink can cure all ills. The only side-effect might be a slight headache.

Not too long ago I found out there is a Beerenburg Museum in Friesland, in Leeuwarden. It is just a tiny museum, a little small for something so beneficial, I guess. It tells the story of the drink, reveals something about its ingredients, and, of course, you can have a taste. A group of ladies was there at the time, drinking their health, and they seemed very happy. I was feeling well anyway, so I didn't have a taste that particular afternoon. You need to be particular about these things.

Animals in the City

I was at an urban ecology conference today. It was held in a church in the city centre, and it was organised as a goodbye to Amsterdam's most popular urban ecologist. It was all about his work, and the importance of nature in the city.

There were some interesting talks, on the history of urban ecology, the way ecologists had to fight for a place in urban planning and about the way they are indispensable now. You cannot plan a city of quality if there is no room for nature, and that idea is generally accepted now. The group of urban ecologists in this city have worked hard to achieve this.

Martin was always the most visible of them, the one who turned up on television to show something special happening with the birds or other animals present in the city. I worked with him on one of my projects, where I was appointed "manager birds". We were responsible for making sure the breeding birds would not get in the way of the work, because that would mean the work would be stopped, but we were also given the opportunity to create room for breeding birds, or for any other animal wherever possible.

I enjoyed the work, making space for nature, as the BBC's Springwatch would call it. And it is good to see that now this is common practice here in Amsterdam. It was good to hear and see the stories today, to see men dedicated to the work they do and to hear them talk about it. And it is good to see that nowadays they are taken very seriously. I met some people I used to work with who were always a bit sceptical about the whole idea, but who ended up thinking about the animals and nature in their projects as a matter of course.

The other things about the conference was that one of the speakers decided to do without a big powerpoint presentation, but just used words to convey his message. He talked about ecology and communication, and he managed to get his message across powerfully just using words. They spoke louder than pictures.

Martin made a film about nature in Amsterdam, together with a journalist from the local TV station, and it had his signature to it. A lot of animals, lovely pictures, a love for the city and a good sense of humour. It'll be a success. At the end of the afternoon the mayor came to speak, and he presented Martin with an honour from the Queen, but that didn't seem to make much of an impression. I do think he was pleased though, because just for once he was speechless. For a little while, anyone.

A Girl's Best Friend

Cycling into work, from the corner of my eye, in the PC, I suddenly caught sight of a familiar colour, a special shade of blue. I know that colour, I've seen it before, but far away.

There are some shops that have a special ring to their name, pardon the pun, that somehow trigger the imagination. For me one of those shops is Tiffany. Every time I was in New York I would visit the shop on Fifth Avenue, not necessarily to buy anything but to get a sense of the place. Now it looks like I won't have to travel quite so far anymore to visit a Tiffany shop. And just in time for the holiday season too.

Training on the New Ship

I was away for the weekend for a meeting with colleagues. The other set of colleagues this time, fellow Antarctic guides and expedition leaders. The meeting was held in a small town called Haastrecht because the company's new ship Plancius is over there for the moment, awaiting sea trials, christening and departure to the south. She seems like a good ship, lovely great windows for good views of the ice and the whales. And a great many decks on different levels for watching them in the fresh air.

I got to sleep in one of the bigger luxury cabins, testing out the accommodation. Not a bad place to sleep, the cabin has nice big windows too. And a very comfortable bed. A lot of thought has gone into the design, and all the details that will make life at sea more comfortable. A lot of work still has to be done on the ship, but much has been done already, and it is all happening very fast.

One of the nice things about the weekend was meeting all these people who do the same job under the same circumstances and who share my experiences. We usually are on different ships, and when we are at work there always is something to do. It was good for once to spend a couple of days like this, talking about the work, sharing experiences, and looking forward to the next season.

It wasn't all about talking and sitting around. We had a zodiac out on the water for a practice run on Saturday morning, sitting out there in the quiet Zeeland delta instead of the wild waters of the Antarctic Peninsula. All of the waves there were caused by passing ships.

The greater part of the weekend was spent in first aid training though. A Scotsman came over who works for the BASP, the British Association of Ski Patrollers, so someone who knows what it is like to work in inhospitable, cold environments. He was a good teacher, a great story-teller, and he was good at organising the practical exercises. It was a good mix of the theory and the practical, and I learned a lot. I had great fun playing the victim in one of the practical cases. I spent five minutes hysterically screaming for attention, and I really enjoyed myself. I did end up with a sore throat though...

A Week on Texel

I just had a week's holiday on the island of Texel. It is a bit of a risk to go there in the middle of October, but it can be very beautiful too. You can be stuck in your hotel or apartment for the whole week because of the weather, or you can see the most beautiful sights.



Well, I was lucky this time, and for most of the week I got the beautiful sights. Rain was predicted for the weekend, but I only got a few drops once in a while. I spent most of the week cycling round the island, and I'm quite happy I didn't get stuck in my apartment. I rented a place through the internet, I didn't know it beforehand, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Well, it was tiny, a converted attic, consisting of a bed-sitting room and a kitchen. It looked like it had been decorated quite some time ago, and not all aspects had been given enough attention. I was right under the roof, so I could only stand up straight in the middle of the room. I only banged my head a couple of times in a week, so that wasn't too bad. Anyway, the fridge was built into a cupboard, but it opened towards the middle of the attic, so to get into the fridge you needed to be a contortionist. But the apartment had all I needed, there was room to cook, a very good bed, a television set to keep me happy in the evenings. What more does a woman need? Don't answer that one, I had it....

I took my own bike this time, nicely parked in the bicycle shed at night, so it was quite easy to get around. My apartment was just outside Oosterend, in the middle of the island, so all other places were easy to reach. I love the northern part of Texel, the Schorren on the eastern side, the dunes to the very north, and the Slufter on the western side. Whenever I stay up in De Cocksdorp I tend to stay on that side of the island, but from Oosterend it is just as easy to reach the Mokbaai and Paal 9 to the south.

Oosterend is a very nice village, and I've wanted to come and stay here for a while. It is fairly small, not too many shops or restaurants, but with quite an old town centre. There aren't as many tourists here as there are on other parts of the island, which I also like. This was the week of the German autumn break, so there were a lot of Germans everywhere, and at times it was hard to hear Dutch rather than German spoken.



I hadn't been here for a while, but found that not much has changed really. Up in De Cocksdorp I had dinner at De Rog, a small café I've eaten on most of my visits to the island. It used to be more of a pub, now it is more of a restaurant. When I first had dinner there I was a little desperate, arriving in the north at around 8.30in the evening after a long cycle ride against the wind coming straight of the boat. There was no room at any of the other restaurants, or rather they were about to close, and at De Rog they didn't mind making me something to eat at that time of night. I make a point of going back whenever I'm here, and they now have a good variety of food, including vegetarian, very friendly service, and they are reasonably priced. This sounds like an advert, but it is nice to still have places like this, that are good and offer quality and do not become a victim of their own success.



Anyway, I spent a fair amount of time cycling round the edges of the island, and I got to visit the Schorren a few times. That always is a great site for watching waders, just like the Slufter. I walked in De Muy and de Geul, and along the beach near Paal 9. I saw some great Jellyfish there, which had just ended up on the beach with the rising tide. On the whole the weather was pretty good, and I got to see some lovely skies. There was a lot of cloud cover, with many different types of clouds, moving very fast because of the strong winds.



On Friday there was a small storm, and the wind was too strong for cycling, so I just went for a walk. Even that was hard going at times, walking against the wind. Once you had the wind in your back you could move at cycling speed. There is a small walking tour just outside Oosterend, starting from about 50 metres from where I was staying, so I did that tour. It was nice to be literally blown away.

Then it was time to head home again, to put the bike on a train, and in this case aboard a bus too, and to go back to the city. But that is another story.

Shaken

Watching the regional news on Monday night I saw and heard a flash of the unveiling of a placque for a man who had been killed with his family, his wife and two teenage children, in a car crash last November. Just in those few seconds I realised I have known this man, and I didn't know about what happened to him. The item has been haunting me, and I’m not sure why. I knew the man slightly, he was involved in one of my projects and I met him only a few times. He seemed like a nice man, young, lively, driven, ambitious, dedicated.

It is such a weird idea that this man has gone, and that his whole family were killed with him, two generations gone in a second. The other thing that I find hard to understand is that I didn’t even know, and he was killed almost a year ago. Have I been so unobservant, or don’t my colleagues know either? You read or hear these stories of accidents, young people or families getting killed, but now I can put a face to the story. That is on my mind and I can’t seem to shake it.

Cycling and Cycling

I cycled down to Delft this weekend, there and back in two days. I guess it is about 90 kilometres one way, not too much for a trained cyclist, but I wouldn't call myself a trained cyclist exactly. I cycle in the city, and just outside, but I don't usually travel such distances by bike. But the conditions seemed perfect, dry, not too warm, not such strong winds, just the kind of weather you need for cycling.

It isn't a bad route to cycle, and I had done it before, but this time I didn't take quite the same route. Down to Amstelveen first, where I could have a look at the area where my new project should be developed at some point. Then into the green, mainly farmland with the odd bit of nature in between. Lots of small villages to pass through, all with similar new developments along the edges. There isn't all that much variety really.

Not too many bigger towns, just Alphen, but there is a short way through, which is not bad. You do end up on a roundabout called "Care Square", where you find all kinds of medical shops and facilities, an interesting place from an urban planning point of view.

You also go through Zoetermeer, well, you do if you take a wrong turn somewhere. Which I did. By this time I was thirsty and I could do with a break, but I ended up in the suburbs, and there was no cafe, just a lot of streets and houses, all very similar, where you would get lost. I know this is not unique to Zoetermeer, this happens in many towns, but I feel it is dehumanizing.

After Zoetermeer I get onto familiar terrain, passing through Nootdorp, where I have my family history. I cycle past the house where my grandparents lived, even though the area has changed completely. When I used to go down there to visit my grandparents it was all farmland, nowadays it is a builtup area.

Cycling back today I took a different route, cycling past the Starrevaart, a good birding area just east of Den Haag. There always is a lot to see there. Unfortunately, the bird hide that was there was burnt down in June, which makes it a little harder to sit and watch the birds.

Coming back always seems to go faster than cycling down, even though it takes just as long. There was no strong wind, so cycling was quite easy. I got back to Amsterdam at the end of the afternoon, not bad going really.

Clean Air and Traffic Lights

Time for a rant. I am, on the whole, one of the more law-abiding cyclists here in Amsterdam. I indicate when I intend to turn the corner, I give way where I have to, and I stop at red lights. Always. Well, almost, even though I seem to be the only one who does.

Just lately I have taken to going through the red light at the end or the entrance, depending on which way you look at it, of the park. The system of the lights has changed so the air here in Amsterdam can become cleaner, that is cars don't have to wait quite so long at the lights anymore. Trams always get priority anyway, so as a cyclist you sometimes have to wait for a long, long time, while you see the lights changing again and again for the cars and trams. After a while I get fed up, especially if there is very little traffic. I'm all in favour of clean air, but why is it that the kind of traffic that is the least polluting has to stand and wait the longest in this air polluted by those who get to go first. I honestly don't understand.

Getting Wet

Well, they did say the weather was going to be changeable today. I cycled into work through the pouring rain this morning. I stopped in the park to put on my weatherproof trousers, but they turned out, as I already knew, not all weather proof. Not proof against real rain, for example. Shortly afterwards I ended up taking shelter for a few minutes, but I could already feel the water coming through around the knees and some other areas.

Shortly after I reached the office, as I sat at my desk, finding out just how wet I got, I looked out the window and saw blue skies and the sun shining. Then I got a rainbow, a nice shower, another rainbow, and then solid grey skies and another shower. Meanwhile, I was slowly drying up, but it took quite a few hours. I was alright for much of the time, or rather as long as I remained sitting down, but getting up and sitting down again made me realize it takes a long time for jeans to dry.

What I also noticed along the way was the Paradiso Fringe. When did Paradiso get a fringe? I like that idea. When I checked later I saw that there is a fringe festival starting here in Amsterdam tonight.

Surprising Voice

I just finished listening to a radio adaptation of “Busman's honeymoon”, one of a series of adaptations with Ian Carmichael as Lord Peter Wimsey and Sarah Badel as Harriet Vane. I love the stories, and I enjoy listening to the radio dramatizations. I’ve listened to them all more than once, so I was surprised, catching just the last part of the credits properly to hear the announcer say: “Second removal man - Alex Jennings”. I usually recognise the voice when I hear it, but not this time. Not surprising really, as he only had a couple of lines, and it was some serious character acting. Deep voice and strong accent. I listened to the episode again, just to actually hear it. And I did hear the second removal man.

Back in Time

For some reasons the desks in my office have been moved. I used to be right at the window in my little glass house, but the table has been moved back and there is a gap between the desk and the window. So if I want to open or close the window, or charge my phone, I have to crawl under the table to do that. Not too bad really, a little exercise once in a while.

It all reminds me of a children's book I read when I was little, one of the first books I can remember, about a girl whose favourite place was the space behind her father's desk. She liked to crawl under the desk to hide out. I was thinking about the book only the other day. I can't remember much else about it, I’m sure there was much more to the story, but that is the one thing I can remember. I’ll have to check my boxes at home to see if I still have it somewhere. For some reason the idea of the little corner behind the desk must have appealed to me, otherwise I wouldn’t have remembered. And I wouldn’t have thought of it today.

As I Waved Goodbye

In his newsletter Luka Bloom mentions that it is 50 years since the Dalai Lama went into exile. He hasn't been back to Tibet since, which is so sad. When I first saw Luka about 10 years ago here in Utrecht the song that moved and impressed me most was "As I Waved Goodbye", which he had not recorded yet. Luka also still had his sruti box at the time, which provided beautiful accompaniment to the song.

Looking at the documentaries about the history of Tibet and the current situation makes me sad. And there is no sign of things getting better out there yet.

Luka recorded the song in Whelans in Dublin last February, and it is beautiful as ever: As I Waved Goodbye

Lovely Monday Morning

Some days just start out right. As I walked out of my street this morning I could see the tram at the stop. I started running, but then the tram started moving. I slowed down, but so did the tram driver, and he actually stopped for me. I told him he was wonderful!

Luka

Luka was back in the country, I had to go to Utrecht this time to see him, to the mythical Tivoli. I had never been to Tivoli before, not to the old one anyway. This is where people first started to sing with Luka in 1990. People still sing, though for some reason other people felt it necessary to talk all the way through the concert. I don't understand this, why go to a concert if you don't want to listen to the music.

Luka was his own opening act for the occasion, and what an opening act. He started of with "Diamond Mountain", such a beautiful song. And he just went on from there. Before the break he sang some ten songs by himself, and then came back with the boys, which made for a different kind of Luka concert. Familiar songs, but they sounded different.

He began his encore with "Don't be Afraid of the Light that Shines Within You", which I love. It is such a song of hope. Then he went on by himself to sing a request, "The Man is Alive". When I heard the first chords I couldn't believe my ears, this was the one song I wanted, didn't expect, but got anyway. It completely blew me away, and has been sustaining me ever since.

Oma

It would have been my grandmother's birthday today. She would have been 100, but she only lived to be 60. Such a long time ago, and I can remember so little, except for a great feeling of warmth and love. And chicken soup, sweet pears, and little dogs. I often think of her, when important things happen to me in my life. That is lovely to me.

Alienation

My first few days back home are always difficult. Suddenly everything changes. Walking down the the street here in Amsterdam I kept seeing familiar figures, Pavel, our zodiac driver, or Mariano, the owner of the bookshop in Ushuaia, somewhere on the street. One of those tricks of the mind or the eye. Moving from one world to the other within 24 hours.

Suddenly I find myself cycling again, after almost three months. First on my bike in Delft, which is unusual anyway, then on my bike here. I first have to drag that down three flights of stairs, something of an effort, but then it feels like I was cycling only yesterday.

Coming back to work is strange. Everything seems the same, I am the one who has changed. And then I see part of the office has been redecorated, we now have a sheepy reading room and lounge area. And I see a lot of new faces, again. I've read about people leaving and saying goodbye, I didn't realise there were so many new arrivals.

When you leave the ship you see so many faces after seeing so few for a long time. Travelling back, flying up to Buenos Aires, during the taxi ride to the international airport, then flying to Madrid and on to Amsterdam. So many people. And again, out here.

What is strangest perhaps is having time to myself. After working most working hours every day for the past 11 weeks, I now have spare time again. I need to decide for myself what I want to do, I have a choice. My life is no longer governed by the regular hours and schedule of the ship.

Being on the move, working all day long, you need a little time to readjust to a different way of life again.

Adelie among the Gentoos

15 February

A busy day so far, and it is only just after 4 p.m. A pretty good day though. Some organising to do because we departed later than scheduled yesterday, but we did get our engine fixed! So we are heading south at full speed, and should arrive at Barrientos in the early morning day after tomorrow. I am looking forward to being back there again, it is a magical place.

After a group of almost only Dutch I now have a ship full of Australians. I am actually the only Dutch person on board, though one of the ladies was born in the Netherlands and emigrated with her parents when she was three years old. She still speaks Dutch. She rather likes being on a Dutch ship, where they have Dutch cookies, beschuit and liquorice.

So, only English spoken now, which is fine with me. It saves a lot of time not having to translate all the lectures and briefings, as well as the daily programmes and menus. I do feel there is a difference in culture somehow. I can speak the language, I know a little bit about Australia, but I am not familiar with much of the politics or the details of life. At dinner that means I don't always know just what the conversation is about. It is alright though, the people are friendly and we find things to talk about. They are also very interested, and ask a lot of questions about the trip. I hope they will have as good a trip as the last group. And I hope it will be a happier trip for me, with less complaining.


17 February

We were supposed to have our first landings today. I was up at 5 a.m., but had this weird feeling we were moving about a lot. And we were. Just before reaching the Aitcho Islands a force 11 gale hit us and we were forced to turn into a small bay for shelter. We stayed down there until just after lunch when we decided to brave the storm and head out to the continent. It's been a rough afternoon with some 20 people in their beds. Others spent a lot of time up on the bridge, or in the bar.

I think it will be a quiet evening too, with people trying to sleep as much as they can. There was a queue outside Dr. Max's surgery when we made the announcement about starting the crossing so most people will be out like a light. I managed to catch up on some sleep too this afternoon. Well, we'll see what the evening brings.


19 February

It's been a busy few days, not too much time to write, really. After our rocky start the trip has been getting better. Yesterday was actually more or less perfect. Crossing over to the mainland wasn't quite as rough as I had imagined it to be. Maybe it is because I am used to the Europa, but on the whole it wasn't all that much moving around. It wasn't comfortable, but not uncomfortable either. By nightfall we were close to the continent and the wind had slowed down considerably, so we could make good progress coming down south. The people woke up to a beautiful morning, mainly blue skies, not too much wind so you could stay up on deck. Sailing down the Gerlache Strait was perfect in every possible way. Sunshine, clear skies, beautiful light all around, icebergs everywhere, Fur Seals playing around the ship, penguins popping up everywhere, and some very good views of Humpback Whales. Most people spent the morning up on deck, watching what was going on and taking pictures. I took quite a lot of pictures too. They turned out like Edward Wilson watercolours. It was that kind of light.



Our first landing was also our first landing on the continent, at Neko Harbour. We still had sunshine and blue skies, and our first penguin colony. The landing was as smooth as you could hope for, and we greeted the guests with a drop of wodka to celebrate their first landing and their first step on the continent. That brought a smile to zodiac driver Andrey's face... Not a common sight. Neko looked so unlike it did in December. Most of the snow on beach level has now gone, the penguins and their chicks are moulting, and many have already left the colony.

The biggest change was the fact that the Argentine emergency hut on the island had been completely destroyed in the storm the day before. Looking out from the deck Alan, the hotel manager, and I could not find the little red hut and we didn't know what to think. Then, as we landed, I saw the debris all around. One beam had killed a penguin, and that had obviously happened just before we got there. I took a lot of pictures and on arrival at Almirante Brown informed the station manager there. One of the passengers told me that the hut was built in 1949, or so the Lonely Planet says. Judging from the furniture inside, or outside now, they could be right though.

At Neko Harbour we always warn people that the glacier just on the other side of the bay can calve big pieces, and that those calvings create mini tsunamis. I had never seen it happen, but guess what? Yes, just as I was walking down from the hill I could hear and see some small pieces go in, making a lot of noise. And just as I was standing there a really big piece came loose. I checked for waves and saw them, and I saw all the penguins running up the beach suddenly. But the people on the beach didn't budge. I had to break one of the rules and shout at them to move and then they did. Some 20 seconds later the waves came onto the beach. People would have gotten really wet if they hadn't moved, and I am sure some cameras would have gotten damaged.

We have a painter on board who has been working both on the upper deck and on the beach. He has all his stuff with him and just sits down and paints. It is fascinating to have someone do that. And there are a lot of photographers again, including some professionals. They've been busy too, the light everywhere is beautiful at the moment, though it remains hard to catch that on film somehow. It was good to see so many people up on deck today.

Last night we had another excursion, a zodiac tour around Skontorp Cove. Summer is ending here now, so it gets dark around 10 pm, but we still had a pretty good tour. We started out at Almirante and went along the rocks, past the nesting shags, into the cove. Just as we got into the cove we saw a Leopard Seal playing with a fresh kill. That got the cameras clicking too. I was in a boat where people had different interests though. Some got cold quickly and just wanted to get back, others were after the sunset, while others wanted to see the seals. Later on we got to see a couple of Weddell seals on an ice floe too. I always love Paradise, or Skontorp, for its glaciers, those fairy tale castle towers that always look different and are liable to go into the sea at any moment. The blue ice caves, the glaciers above. Somehow people were not too interested last night. So we headed out of the cove and went for the sunset. The light was beautiful again, and there was a fairy tale sky with clouds in different shapes and colours.



So far I have not had too many difficulties getting on with the crew. The language is a problem at times, but they are nice people, always working hard and trying to get the best out of the trip. I talk to the captain regularly, to discuss the schedule, and to talk about things that are happening. I talk to Andrey a lot, he is the radio officer and he speaks good English. He is a lovely man and he has a good sense of humour. Pavel is the best of the zodiac drivers, a quiet man usually, but good at his job and friendly, though I have a feeling he has his own ideas about everything he sees around him. He also is the one that catches the eye of most of the ladies on the ship somehow, though they all know his wife works on the ship too. She is actually one of the stewardesses working in the dining room. Sasha works there with Lina, and they work very hard.

This also is a good group. The people are pretty direct, and they are generally good-humoured. Some may not know exactly what they have gotten themselves into, some of the sailors among them know very well. It is a little tricky getting one or two of them in and out of zodiacs but as guides, and with the help of the zodiac drivers, we seem to manage.

The landing at Almirante Brown this morning was a rough affair, and some people got wet long before they got to land. Only some went all the way up, and no one really decided to slide down. I stayed down at the station again, this time to hand the commander the pictures I took of the hut that was destroyed at Neko Harbour. The Argentine crew were very friendly and welcoming again, they offered me coffee this time, and cookies. The commander had not realised that when I said that the hut had been destroyed that was exactly what I meant. He thought there was some damage and a door had blown off or something. Back on the ship I said to the captain that the Argentines would deal with the situation, and he said the first thing they had to do was bury the penguin chick that was killed by a piece of wood. Our captain is an unusual man, with an unusual sense of humour! Working with him has been good though.

This afternoon we sail through the Lemaire Channel again. We headed out from Almirante at less than full speed not to arrive at Petermann too early. We take the scenic route, through the beautiful Neumayer Channel and past Port Lockroy. That made my heart skip a beat. I offered at our lunchtime briefing to do a lecture on penguins this afternoon, but there were no takers. Good for me because I wanted to be outside, but even better for the guests, who also were outside on deck now, enjoying the view. After the Neumayer channel we slowly headed down to Lemaire, and there was a hush on the bridge with everyone trying to imagine how we would get the ship through. But, of course, no problems there. Pavel at the wheel, the first mate keeping an eye on the proceedings it all went perfectly. A few whales along the way, a lot of penguins in the water, no mist so we could see the tops of the mountains. Almost too good to be true. Well, the wind was pretty cold, so people must have been pretty determined to be out there.


20 February

I actually seem to be organised this trip. It's almost 7.45, I have just done the wake up call for the guests, in "dulcet tones" according to Dr. Max, have got together all my things for the zodiac tour this morning, and am waiting for breakfast. As I'm writing I can hear the anchor heaved, so we are about to leave for Pleneau Island for our morning zodiac tour.

Last night we had our landing on Petermann Island, which was a little weird for me. I am so used to the island being covered by snow, but this late in the season most of the snow is gone. So I had a little trouble finding my way across at times. All the young Adelies had already gone, the adults were moulting, there were no shags around at all, but a lot of gentoos, like everywhere else.

Going back we had to wait a little while for a zodiac. As we were waiting we were surrounded by a big group of Gentoo Penguins, with an Adelie among them. I had to make the remark I sometimes feel like that lone Adelie, one penguin among a huge group of slightly different penguins, like a Dutch girl among a big group of Australians. You feel at home, though you are a little different.


Later

much later actually, it's almost time to go to bed. Or it is nearly 10 pm. It has been another weird day. The day started with a zodiac tour close to Pleneau Island. An iceberg tour. We started after breakfast, and it was a good tour. I had wanted to be out for about 90 minutes, but we were actually out for about two hours. We started out having a look at some of the icebergs and got to see some really nice ones. We saw all the iceberg colours, the white, the blue, and some fantastic shapes again. The light was good, which made it all really lovely. Then a Leopard Seal caught on to us, and kept following the zodiac around. This was a big animal, and it kept close to the zodiac for a while, so we stayed out for a while. Andrey managed to stay close to the animal, or rather kept the animal close to the zodiac, without upsetting it, which is not that easy to do.



This afternoon started out alright, I went over to Wordie House to show the passengers around. I felt a little lost though, for some reason. I had a wander round the coast line of Winter Island and spotted one Krill swimming. I had never observed live Krill that closely before, and it was very nice to see. Then I had ten minutes by myself just beside Wordie, because everybody had walked up the hill. It was lovely, just to enjoy the peace and quiet, to look at and listen to the gulls and the skuas. I know I need to be available here, and I need to be at work, but just then I gave myself 15 minutes off, and it was lovely.

I went on to Vernadskiy, back to work, and stamped all the passports. I was given a vodka by the Multanovskiy and Vernadskiy crew already there, and then commander Yeugeni made me a coffe, which was really nice. I talked with the passengers, the people at Vernadskiy, our own crew and the people were all very nice to me. I got a big hug from Sasha, the barman, and one or two of the other people working there. It is a nice idea to have friends in such a place. The only thing was that people insisted on giving me a vodka, and so I ended up having four instead of the one I usually have. The last one was at the insistence of the commander because this was my last visit for the season. He is a lovely man, and so I couldn't say no. I did get back safely, thanks to our safety officer, Mikhail, who drove the zodiac. It was strange getting back here though. Then I was sent out to look for a pair of gloves, and ended up in the Russian quarters downstairs, among the Russians and Ukrainians that had come on board, and had my last vodka for the day. That one really hit me, and almost sent me to sleep. It was in a big glass, so it was probably more than I would usually have, and it was probably also the real stuff, the stuff they don't serve to the tourists. I had to go to my cabin for an hour or so...

Then I got a tough question on the schedule from one of the other guides, so that was a challenge, but I did work it out in the end, with some help from the captain. Anyway, to cut a long story short, after a long talk with one of the other guides it turned out to be too late to have any dinner, I had actually missed the whole barbecue. So I went to the office to do my paperwork and to make a program for tomorrow. As I said, another weird day.


21 February 2009

Well, the last day in Antarctic surroundings. We are sailing through the Neumayer Channel and will then head out across the Drake Passage again. For the last time this season. It has all gone so quickly, I can hardly believe it. It will be hard to say goodbye to everyone in three days time, just as I've gotten to know the crew a little better. My little Vernadskiypade yesterday got me some smiles in the morning. The zodiac drivers were very friendly. Well, they always are, but they smiled a lot more at me this morning.

Some of the passengers were asking me what happened to me yesterday, but I explained about all the hard work I had to do when I got back.... To some others I did explain about everything else too.

We had a wonderful last landing at Dorian Bay this morning. The place has a bad name, I guess, I've often had bad weather there, but it was a good landing this morning. We had sunshine, you could see the mountains and the glaciers in the Neumayer, still lots of penguins, and a Weddell and Fur Seal close up. Not bad going. People went to have a look inside the hut, climbed up for the view into Lockroy, and wandered round a bit. We had landed early, so we would have enough time for this last landing, and we did, people had time to sit down and enjoy what was happening all around.

Then there was another good lunch, a short briefing to tell the guests the crossing might be a little rough, some chat up on the bridge, and now we are sailing north. There is a pretty big storm in the Drake now, and it sounds like Europa is heading straight into it. We might just miss it, but Europa left Ushuaia this morning and will be heading into the Drake later tonight. I hope they will be okay in there and will be able to get some sleep. Almost the whole crew has changed, I do know most of them though, and have sailed with them. I hope they will have a good crossing and a good trip.

I didn't sleep much last night. Part of me knew I had to wake up early to do the wake up for this early landing, there was a lot of noise up in the bar until quite late, and I felt the effects of the vodka. I still felt them this morning, but I'm much better now.

Max asked me today about being with a group of Australians, and I could reassure him. It's been a good trip, even though I feel like an Adelie among the Gentoos. He is a lovely man to work with, gentle, with a good sense of humour.

Later

We had some good whale sightings before we headed into the Drake Passage. I was up on the bridge, and the Dallman Bay delivered once again. So I think it all worked out more or less alright. I spent much of my afternoon up on the bridge, watching the last icebergs disappear, watching the Fulmars appear, and watching the whales forage. I had another little chat with the captain, a longer chat with Andrey. After all the reservations I had beforehand I am very happy with the way things have turned out.

I also spent some time sorting out my things. I have more or less the same amount of stuff I arrived here with, I only bought a couple of books. As usual. I can leave some things in Ushuaia again, so it shouldn't be a problem. I've also sorted out all of the papers for this trip, and thrown some of them out. The kind of things you always do when you are finished with all the landings.

I am tired enough to sleep now, but dinner starts in an hour. I think I'd rather go to bed early tonight....

Later

Well, it didn't quite happen like that. I did lie down for a few minutes, and woke up just before dinner, so I slept for almost an hour. Dinner was an unusual affair again, with three people leaving our table early. It must have been something we said. Or maybe it was something else. We are rocking gently now, and I am feeling it a bit more than before. Heather, my colleague, was one of the casualties over dinner, and she is now in my cabin. I live on deck 3 here, so not too high up, while she lives on deck 6, which is quite high up. The dining room is on 3, so when she left I told her to go and sleep in the empty bunk in my cabin. I'll sleep up here on 6 for the night. See what that is like. I just grabbed all the things I need and moved up. Because I slept earlier I don't feel very sleepy right now.

We are not really rolling all that much, but we are not rock steady either. After dinner I spent some time on the bridge again, waiting for the weather forecast and chatting. For some reason it feels like I am still ahead, and there isn't that much work for me now. There is, obviously, like filling out 53 Antarctic certificates and signing them, sorting out some pictures and factual bits for the triplog, printing an address list for the passengers. Lots of little things. And hopefully the weather will be good enough for lectures tomorrow. I'd like to do the seabird conservation lecture so I can try to get people to donate to the Birdlife campaign.

I had a few funny moments tonight. At dinner one of the guests asked me just how the crew calculate the height of the swell, which of the instruments they used. When I asked Andrey he stood up, looked up, and told me the waves were about 2 metres high. The only instrument they actually use are the eyes. Not everything is done by machines these days. And Pavel must have had a funny moment when he got a call to help one of the guests who got himself locked in the toilet.

I'm still getting used to the idea that this afternoon I saw my last iceberg for the season, I wouldn't mind going back again. Maybe this really is addictive.


22 February

Out on the Drake. We've had a bumpy night you can say. My night on deck 6 wasn't what you would call a good night sleep. I was tossing and turning, in fact, everything was tossing and turning. Being up on the sixth deck is a lot rougher than being down here on deck 3. I think I made the right choice at the start, sleeping down here rather than up there, even though it is closer to the bridge!

I really hope to get some sleep tonight, two nights in a row is all I can take, I think. It looks like a little more rolling though. Breakfast was a messy affair this morning, so I don't know yet what lunch will be like. But I guess I am about to find out....

After lunch

Or sort of. I had to deal with a little problem up on the bridge and ended up missing lunch. I am pretty hungry now. Not good when you're on the Drake, but I'll raid the fruit basket later. I didn't realise lunch was already over when I got back down. Oh well, that is the way it goes.

And later

Lina, the stewardess who works in the dining room, took pity on me this afternoon. She beckoned me and took me into the Russion dining area, where she gave me some soup and bread. We have fun talking together, and she is a very nice girl. I'm glad she got me something to eat though, I was really hungry.

Today is my day for writing certificates. People who come on this trip receive a certificate to commemorate their achievements, like landing on the continent and reaching a southernmost point. The certificates are quite nice, but if you print on them it doesn't look very good. So I've been writing them all instead. I am actually nearly finished.

And I realised that I had offered to do a lecture on Seabird Conservation tonight, but only have a Dutch version, so I created an English one. So that was my "easy" day taken care of... I just shouldn't have said I haven't too much to do at the moment.

Later

My conservation lecture didn't go so well. I realised too late that a couple of slides were missing.... There was just too much going on today. Then when I started the film it turned out there was something wrong with the sound, so that didn't go too well either. I do think I got the message across though, or I will find out tomorrow afternoon when I will be selling my albatross pins.


23 February

we are approaching Cape Horn, and those people wishing for a storm have now got what they wanted. I think we are having a force 10 now, as we are heading north. Pavel is at the wheel upstairs and he seems quite happy. Other people are not quite so happy and are disappearing into toilets or cabins.

Euan, our resident painter, just held a short exhibition of this paintings in the dining room, and he is about to give a talk in the bar. He is a nice guy and I like the work he has done. I know they are not finished works, but it will be interesting to see what they turn into.

Some people are just up on the bridge, enjoying the waves. They are beautiful. I just saw a Black-browed Albatross from my porthole, holding its own over the waves. Stunning. And there are more birds out there now. The wind speed has gone up to about 22 m/s, and the waves are about 8 m high.

I slept upstairs again last night because Heather was still not feeling well. I slept better this time, but it still wasn't great. It was partly the movement, partly all the things that are on my mind at the moment. I'll be heading home tomorrow afternoon, that is a very strange thought. I could happily do a few more trips on this ship, go back to Capetown. And there is a lot that needs to be done over the next 24 hours or so, things to finish and organise. And at the moment that includes making sure people do't get hurt. It's hard for people to really be aware of the force of the wind and the waves, and to accept that they need to adapt their behaviour to this force.

Heather tells me my lecture last night was good, so I hope she is right. I think I told the whole story, though not necessarily in the right order.


24 February

I'm at the international airport in Buenos Aires, waiting for my flight to Madrid. It's almost 10 pm, my flight leaves in a couple of hours. Another long day, though I slept through most of my flight from Ushuaia to BA. It was actually quite sweet. I met up with a couple of passengers from the Multanovskiy on the airport, a father and son, and they were both very nice to me, very complimentary. During the flight the father bought me a glass of wine, but I was fast asleep when he turned up at my seat. It was very nice though.

I think on the whole the people were happy with the trip, one or two were not. That always happens. The last day was eventful in some ways, less so in others. The storm continued for most of the day, which made some people very unhappy. The ones who were sick and were confined to their cabin. Some, the sailors, were happy just being on the bridge, watching the waves. Just as we started dinner we changed tack, which made the hotel manager very unhappy, and he was ready to go up to the bridge to kill some of the officers. I told him not to, but I'm not sure that helped much. Then I proceeded to send people up on deck to see Cape Horn just about as they were serving the main course. But it was one of those things you have to do, you can't tell these sailors after they've finished their salmon that we have just sailed past Cape Horn. I like the hotel manager very much, so I didn't like upsetting him, but there wasn't really any other choice.

After dinner we had the photo competition, and then champagne in the bar. I managed to drop a whole tray of glasses in there.... But let's not get into that.

The really hard part came this morning, saying goodbye to everyone. It can be hard to say goodbye to the passengers, but it is many times harder to say goodbye to the people you have worked with. I hated saying goodbye to Heather and Max, and to Lina and Andrey. working together on a ship makes you get close to people quickly, and letting go is hard. The captain was very nice today, he said he had enjoyed working with me and even gave me a goodbye kiss. He is a good captain, he knows his job, and I have great respect for him. Before I went out I heard he was difficult to work with, but I had no trouble at all with him. It was good to work with Max too, our ship's doctor. We worked together on two trips and on the last one he always referred to me as the boss lady. He is a good man, very knowledgeable and interested, and he was a good support to me. Lina is just a lovely girl, very sweet and keen. Andrey was a good friend to me and he helped me on my first trip as expedition leader...... Heather and I spent a lot of time just talking, and we've become friends very quickly. It is lovely when that happens, when you just connect with someone.

It is such a strange idea to think that this time tomorrow I will be home, sleeping in my own bed. And that in a few days time I will be at work again. My mind is still on the Multanovskiy and I would have gladly done another few trips with her. I like the work, the challenges it presents, I like the people I worked with. And I still like the beauty of the Antarctic. Maybe next year I will get the chance to visit the Falklands and South Georgia again. Or maybe the trip up to Capetown. We shall see. As the Russians say.