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.