Reading Glasses

Since I am not 18 anymore things have slowly began to go downhill. Well, I'm okay generally, I can still walk a few miles if I have to, I can still cycle into work at some speed. But it's the eyes that are beginning to give out. I got glasses when I was 11, and then started wearing contact lenses some 15 years later. Now I'm back to glasses, because I need reading glasses. I went to the optician a while ago to have my eyes checked and he was a very nice and a very funny man. He just advised me to get some cheap reading glasses ("Oh, so I can go to the department store next door and get some". "Yes, or you could get them from me") and told me that that would be enough for the next few years, it all shouldn't get much worse. He had the same problem as me "Well, we are more or less the same age". He was something of a charmer.

Now I find myself becoming more and more dependent on my glasses. In a shop I have trouble reading the ingredients on various products, and sometimes I need to to make sure they really are vegetarian, at the computer I sometimes cheat and make the letters a little bigger, but I do need my glasses, and now it is during meetings I have to get them out when I want to read the minutes. I'm not the only one, but it does take some getting used to.

Luka Day

I just got Luka's new CD, "Tribe". He's made this one together with Simon O'Reilly, so it's different from his other work. Then again, Luka is forever changing, finding new roads. I am not sure what to think of this one yet, I guess I'll need a little time to get used to it. It is very interesting to listen to, though, and I don't think I will tire of it soon. It is one of the things I like about Luka, he will always come up with something else entirely and will still be Luka.

Blinds

The blinds in this place live a life of their own. As I sit here trying to get my project organised they go down again, and I am in my little cage. Then, shortly after, they go up again. I know they are testing at the moment, but it is a little silly, and pretty distracting, especially if you are trying to think.

Darkness and Light

I work in a little glass box. It's narrow, isolated, but nice and quiet. Today it is strange though because I seem to be locked in. Last week new brise-soleils (?) were placed on the windows, and for some reason they are closed today. Not that there is any sun, they simply are closed and there is no way I can open them. It makes for a very limited view of the world and for a lot of darkness. I prefer to be in a place where there is a lot of light, and where I can look out and see something of the world.

As I am writing this, suddenly, I get my view on the world back. No sunshine, but a grey and cloudy day, the kind of day that makes you want to either go home and crawl up in bed with a really good book, a box of chocolates and a pot of tea, or go for a long walk in the dunes. No such luck for me today...

Anatomy

Yesterday I was at the Natural History Museum. They have a great bookshop, so whenever I am in Leiden I try to go and have a look. This time I went to the museum itself again, I was tempted by the "Extremes" exhibition, all about extreme heat, cold, wet, dry. That was pretty good, a lot of things to do for children, like there are everywhere in the museum. You could test the wind chill factor, for example, which was quite funny to do. And they showed an Antarctic Ice Fish, which I found interesting.

I hadn't been to the museum for about a year or so, and you always forget so much. Like the three whale skeletons, or part whale skeletons right at the back. After being back in Antarctica and at the whale museum in Harberton I noticed these again particularly, a Sperm Whale, a Southern Right Whale and a Sei Whale.

I also ended up in the other temporary exhibition on human anatomy. I don't think I saw all of it, it felt a little strange walking round there. They showed a lot of samples from the anatomical museum of Leiden University Hospital, so you get to see a lot of things that can go wrong, and these aren't models. And to see a cross section of a human head is fascinating, but it also is pretty disconcerting. I wasn't really prepared for this, because I didn't know the exhibition was on. The images stay with me though, they did make an impression.

Where Blue Lives

I went back to the place where blue lives. It is as far south as you can go, where the world seems white, but is blue deep down. The ice and the snow make Antarctica seem white at first, but when you get a glimpse of the world underneath, through the icebergs you see floating everywhere, or on the sides of the glaciers, you can see the purest and the deepest blue. To me that is a sign that blue is the colour of the world underneath, like the world you can find under the surface of the sea. That big white continent hides the ultimate blue somewhere deep down inside, it is part of the mystery.

The south can bring out the best in people I have seen. People are rendered speechless. Some can sit for ages on deck looking at the scenery, or can kneel down on a beach to try and ocmmunicate with a penguin. This year we sailed through the Lemaire Strait on an extremely misty day, you couldn't see the mountains on either side. You could see the icebergs in the water, and the Crabeaters and Leopard Seals resting on them. You could feel the silence, and it was the most impressive thing to me.

Some people underestimate the south. They start planning their next holiday even before they come into port, and that sometimes frightens me. If Antarctica becomes just another holiday destination, then what will be left of it in 10 years time? How many people will go and simply mark it as another distant place to visit? On some trips we have the dreamers, the people who always dreamed of travelling down to the continent, the quiet ones you slowly have to prise
away at the last landing. They will take the continent with them. Like I do, I guess.

Blast from the Past

In the changing rooms at the swimming pool today they played "Crazy Horses". It always makes me smile.

Land and Water

Yesterday I spent just a few minutes near the old docks, the area of Amsterdam which is being redeveloped and which provides, very fashionable, housing for a lot of people. Some of my colleagues live there. The architecture on Java Island is fascinating, and I like the way the old warehouses are integrated into the new area. The best example of this is the way the Schaeffer bridge lands right underneath an old warehouse, which is still in use these days. It is nice to be near the IJ, to see the water and the way the water and the land fit together.

Oud West

I live in a part of Amsterdam that I really like, though I guess I ended up here more or less by accident. The area is called Oud-West and much of it was built at the end of the nineteenth century, very fast, to provide housing for the lower middle classes. The area has long, straight streets, most houses are about four floors high, and are divided up into appartments. It's a busy area, with too many cars and not enough trees, but it is both urban and suburban enough to feel good. The scale is just right, and I like the architecture.

I also like the history and the liveliness of the place. And then there is the literature. W.F. Hermans, one of Holland's greatest 20th century authors lived here, and wrote about the area, and for me it will continue to be associated with this man and with his work. And part of "De Kleine Waarheid", one of the ultimate Amsterdam novels, takes place in the Brederodestraat. I guess the literary connotations are everywhere simply because the streets are named after Dutch authors.

Towards the centre of Amsterdam, almost on the edge of Oud-West, is the former Wilhelmina hospital, an area now used by artists, which is full of life and has one of Amsterdam's nicest restaurants. The old hospital wasn't demolished, many of the buildings were renovated and are still in use.

I live on the edge of Oud-West, close to the park, where the houses were built just a little later, and my house is just a little bigger and lighter. I live on the third floor, on a corner, so I have a lot of windows and a lot of light coming into my house. That was one of the reasons why I bought it. That and the fact that it still has the old sliding doors, and an original kitchen cabinet. One that reminds me of scenes in the television adaptation of "De Kleine Waarheid".

Why does everything always come back to books?

Lent

Lent just started, the time of year for reflection. I guess that is what it means to me. Lent is a time of taking less, in every respect, of restraint. For me it also is the time when I think of Boudewijn. He was my colleague for almost ten years, and though in some ways I got to know him very well, in other I never really got close to him.

I remember when I first met Boudewijn. The company I worked for had just started out, and was located in a house near a canal. The downstairs room wasn't really in use, there were a couple of desks upstairs with some computers and a printer. I worked there for two days a week as a secretary, just so that I had a steady income while I worked as a free lance journalist for the local paper. I had to answer the telephone, do some data entry work and some secretarial work. The company consisted of a director and two part time employees, but most days I wouldn't see anyone. Then Boudewijn became involved, and he came to inspect me, obviously curious. He gradually became more involved with the company and helped build it to a great extent. He was committed, dedicated and very clever. He worked many more hours than he was paid for, he was always keen to devise new systems and work on new ways of solving problems. And he was creative, so he always managed to come up with these new solutions.

Over the years I became more involved with the company myself, I started working more hours and got many more responsibilities. I started working on projects, and more closely with Boudewijn. He taught me the things I needed to know, and took me with him to meet the people we worked for. Often that would mean travelling down to the various Dutch airports, because the work involved environmental research for airports.

He was passionate about his work, but equally passionate about his music, he played trombone in a band, and about playing golf. He was very upset when he lost his swing for a while. I once went to see his band play at an open air fair and was both surprised and not surprised. Every inch of him was put into the music, and his passion became visible, but in the end it was the same passion he put into his work. I talked to him after the concert, and he was complaining that no one wanted to go in the big roundabout swing with him, so I volunteered. Unfortunately we were just too late, the fair was closing down. That is something I regret.

I always felt Boudewijn lived for the full 200%, and I think he did. We didn't get to talk about personal matters very often, but we did spend a couple of days together counting houses near Groningen Airport. After spending all day together in the car we went out to a Greek restaurant for dinner, and talked about things close to our heart. It is one of those days that I will always remember and that will always be special to me. Just as I remember an asparagus dinner near Eindhoven airport.

What I didn't realise until later was the "black thread" that was always a part of him. When he reached the point where work, and maybe other things, weren't enough anymore he couldn't go on and he ended his life. I remember being very sad, but I also remember being at peace with that from the very moment I heard about it. I had already left the company, but was still in touch with him, and I never doubted his decision. I had such faith in him.

This it the time of year I remember him most because he was in the habit of observing Lent. Not because he was religious, but because he thought of it as a time for reflection, a time of restraint. He had a strict list of exactly what you could or could not eat during those 6.5 weeks, and he would stick to the list no matter what. You could always watch him grow thinner and grumpier, but it was important to him. He wanted to make sure he would stay physically fit and he liked the idea of restraint. For a couple of years I joined him and found out how hard it was, but also how rewarding it was.

I do still miss him sometimes, and when I see a similar looking man on the street I will always think "It's Boudewijn", with a sense of joy, before I realise it cannot be. I guess that means that "The Man is Alive" in some way, and I remember him with great fondness.

Red and Blue

Blue has always fascinated me. I love the colour and I love what it means to me. For some reason the colour always comes back into my life. I had a colleague who had blue as the theme for his life. He was always looking for the ultimate blue, wherever he went and whatever he did. When he was walking around the city he would be looking for blue things that he would pick up, label and store away. He always wore blue, including bright blue shoes, and at his desk even the stapler was blue. He also loved the water, and he loved sailing. The sea was also the place where he would go looking for the ultimate blue, which he thought he would find somewhere between the sea and the sky. Ultimately, that is the place where his life ended.

For me blue is the colour of great depth of things, the colour of the exploration of things nderneath the surface. I guess that is why Luka's "Exploring the Blue" has so much meaning, because the two are inextricably linked.

Then I also love red, because red is the colour of fire, the colour of life, the colour of danger. I love to wear red clothes, because they make me feel good, and they give me a sense of control. It is the colour of the superficial that sets of the blue. The colour that ensures that I don't get lost in too much thought or reflection but also remain alive and part of the world. It is the colour of heat that can set of the cold that can be part of blue. To me the two cannot really be separated, and I need both in my life to make it complete.

Sunday with the Penguins

I just spent my Sunday with the Penguins. After reading a couple of scientific books I wanted a little more light reading, so I got a book from the library with lots of beautiful pictures and just the basic information. I read all through it yesterday and enjoyed myself. I learned some new things about penguins, and was reminded of many other things. I'm beginning to understand them a lot better, and now I can actually remember a few facts.

I'm also reading about Scott now, Ranulph Fiennes book about the "Race to the Pole". Fiennes isn't as hard on Scott as some others are. He has a different kind of understanding maybe, because he's been there and he has first-hand knowledge of the terrain.

I never really know what to think of Scott, he is so full of contradictions. He was a naval officer, a man who rapidly made a career for himself, and he did get a lot right. But in the end he got things wrong. I don't know if he simply made too many mistakes, or if he just got unlucky.

I'm actually a chaotic reader at the moment. I'm also in the middle of "Cherry", Sarah Wheeler's biography of Apsley Cherry-Garrard, and I'm reading David Campbell's "The Crystal Desert". Campbell's book is pretty broad, it has history, geology. ecology and biology, and all told in a way that isn't too hard to read.

Panorama

Spending a weekend telling people about albatrosses made me realise again just how special they are and just how rapidly numbers are going down. Being stuck in an office most of the time sometimes makes the world down south seem so far away and almost unreal, but if I get to go back down south again I know it will be the other way round. Then that will be my real world and what goes on here will seem unreal.

The ocean isn't my natural habitat, I guess, I am to a great extent a city girl. But having crossed the ocean once, I can definitely imagine doing it again. The pace is so different, there is a lot you cannot do, and that gives you great freedom. There is a strange sense of confinement too, but at the same time a sense of immense space. I remember standing on the deck of our sailing ship, looking all around, and getting this panoramic sense. On all sides you could see the horizon touch the sea, and there was nothing in there. Just the sea as far as you can see. And right in the middle my ship, my universe for the moment.

Forever South

When I think about the South Pole and Antarctica a lot of images come to mind. Some are things I have seen for myself, the icebergs and the blue, the penguins, the humpback whales and the killer whales, but some are things I have read about or have seen on films or photographs. The more you read and see about the continent, the more there seems to be. There definitely is something mythical about the place, and once you get drawn into it it is hard to walk away again.

A few years ago I talked to a co-worker who was very interested in penguins. She knew much about them, and that made me realize that I knew very little about them. I didn't even really know there were such different species. To see penguins you have to travel a long way and I didn't really think I was ever going to do that. To travel to the Falkland Islands to see penguins was such a remote idea that it never
even entered my mind. It was almost like planning a holiday on the moon. I still haven't visited the Falkland Islands, though that is now a real possibility for me, and I've already been closer than I ever thought I would be. And to tell the truth, I was even further away than the Falkland Islands. I've seen seven species of penguin in the wild, in their own environment, and that was very special. It really was amazing. (thank you, Richard)

But there is so much more out there. I had never thought I would end up on a sailing ship, somewhere in the Southern Ocean, just a few metres away from a group of curious humpback whales, I never thought I would get to smell them, and to almost get close enough to touch them. And I never thought I would get to see albatrosses gliding over the ocean, such a beautiful sight. And just a couple of years ago I hadn't even heard of Wilson's Storm Petrel, now one of my favourite birds. So small and so tough. It can survive above that immense ocean, and it is such a tiny bird.

Blue

Travelling across Atlantic waters gives new meaning to the phrase “Exploring the Blue”. The light is different down there, the colour of the water and the sky, but most of all the snow, the ice and the icebergs. The icebergs have so many shades of blue.

Terschelling

I go to one of the islands for a week. It’s a lovely island, some 20 kilometres long, not too many people. There are woods here, dunes and heather, and views of the sea and the mud flats with all the wading birds. The wind is strong and blows all thought out of your mind.

It takes a couple of hours on a ferry to get there, but that slows you down nicely. Getting off the ferry is hectic, a lot of cars, bicycles and people in one place, all heading in more or less the same direction. The trick is getting out quickly, and then it is quiet. I took my bicycle this time, so I manage to get out quickly.

You turn right from the dock, there is short street, and then you are in a cycle lane which leads all the way along the island. There is a green dyke, with lots of sheep, to your left, to your right there is just the sea. If you are lucky the tide is just right, there are some mud flats, and lots of wading birds. Out there no cars, just a few other cyclists, and it is quiet.

About halfway along the island, in the village before the last one, there is a campsite. All the school holidays are over, so again, it is lovely and quiet. There only is one other tent on the field. It never takes us long to pitch our tent. It turns out a tough week for camping though. We turn in at about nine, when it gets dark, but somehow we just don’t get much sleep. It is seven nights of tossing and turning, of aching hips and shoulders (no, we don’t have inflatable mats). Even the local nightcap proves no solution.

It is a lazy weekend really, we haven’t made any plans. We have a map of the island and a travel guide. We want to see birds and butterflies. We walk across the dunes next to the campsite, in the wood on the other side. We cycle along the dyke to see all the wading birds foraging on the south side of the island.

For a week in September the weather is amazing. Sunshine, the odd cloud, but just a few drops of rain on the morning we have to leave. It means we can leave our tent in the morning and spend the days exploring the island.

To the East there is a huge nature reserve, covering a major part of the island. It is off limits during the breeding season but now we can walk there. It is flat, you can see for kilometres. The first few kilometres of the path you still have other people in front or behind you, but further along you are on your own. There are Wheatears everywhere, one on every sign or pole, they are on the path in front and behind us. Keeping one eye on us, but not very shy. They are such beautiful, graceful little birds. Further along a male Hen Harrier, the most beautiful bird of prey I know, is hunting. I remember a few years’ ago, on this same island, a male Hen Harrier would hover over our tent while we were cooking supper.

Another day we walk along a shorter path in the south of the reserve. It is a narrow track, wet and muddy, but very beautiful. The perfect place for caterpillars and crickets. We see some absolute beauties. An added bonus is the Sparrowhawk that hasn’t spotted us and cruises by at eye level. We just stop and stare.

To the West of the island is where all the people are. There are two bigger towns on the island, which is where the shops, the bars and the discos are. In the summer this is where the teenagers gather. They stay at campsites, buy their beer supplies and have a wild three weeks. This season is for the slightly older guests, elderly couples who go cycling and have their coffees and cranberry pies, and who stay at the bed and breakfast places and the hotels. We do our
shopping here, and join the crowds eating cranberry pie.

Just outside the smaller of the two town is a former church, now used as studio, gallery and home by a local artist. He opens the gallery when he feels like it, and meanwhile continues working. His paintings are all along the high walls of the church. They show a great range in colour and subject matter. Island scenes, portraits, fantasy paintings and nudes. It is hard to know where to look. There is a huge bird in the middle of the space, the bottom half in bright colours, the top still waiting to be finished. The music is Simon and Garfunkel, there is a jukebox somewhere in the back. There is a piano on the other side of the room, next to the billiards table. High up you can see a collection of old skates and sledges. There is a strong mix of the personal and the artistic.

It is also a sad week for me in some ways. My two last visits I made during a sad time and many places I pass remind me of those days. Places where I made difficult phone calls, places where I cried, places where I had a coffee and sat writing down my thoughts. It is hard to be back, because those places bring back all the memories, and there still is a lot of sadness and pain. It surprises me, because it is a few years’ ago now, and I thought it was getting better, but I remember all those places. And there are so many.

Our first night back home, in our own soft bed, is a tough one. We wake up at three, just as we would in our tent, and can’t get back to sleep. This time we get up, make a pot of tea, and spend two hours reading all of last week’s papers. Oh well.

Survival

Walking along the canals it is good to see all the weeds coming up through the stones. It sometimes amazes me to see how confidently plants will always grow back, using every opportunity, every tiny bit of open soil within cracks in the concrete or between rocks and stones. It is encouraging to know that we cannot control all of this. We try to create nature to compensate for all the stone and concrete we put down everywhere, but nature itself does a much better job, turning up unexpectedly and surprising us time and time again. In this country we try to control and plan everything. We make up our little pigeon holes, houses there, industrial sites there, nature there, and very few places are just left to themselves. When you fly over this country you will always know where you are. The country of straight lines, all neat and tidy.

Today I also saw about ten Swifts flying high above the Skinny Bridge. I watched them for a bit. They are about to head south again for the winter, which is a shame. I love to hear the sound of Swifts in town or at home outside my window. They are only here for about 100 days a year though, and to me they are the sound of summer.

Birthday Trip

We spent our weekend in the east of the country. Cycling, enjoying the countryside, watching birds. We stayed at a small camp site, which has its own vegetarian restaurant. A lovely meal, four courses, all tasty and unusual. You can find vegetartian meals almost everywhere nowadays, but the menu often is predictable. You end up having a pizza or a curry, for example. And often you don’t really get to choose.

There was a wonderful moment on Friday when we cycled towards some trees and suddenly noticed a huge shower. It was like cycling towards a wall of rain. I had never seen the edge of a shower so clearly. We stopped to have a look at this, and not to cycle into it, but we didn’t have to. The wall quickly moved towards us, and we ran to take shelter in a barn on a farm yard. We watched the shower move across the fields, and it looked stunning.

As for the birds. Highlights were a hoard of young Housemartins stuck just under the roof of a farm we passed. Over 40 nests with young about to leave the nest. And at the camp site a couple of Spotted Flycatchers who were not bothered by people staring at them for a long time. Then there were the Woodpeckers that could be heard throughout the weekend, but could not actually be seen.

Cycling out there for me was also a strange mixture of history and literature. I’ve been reading Dutch historical novels set partly in this area, and seeing all the small castles and monumental houses brought those books to life for me.

Building

From my desk at work I can see the building activities going on in the next building. I am up on the sixth floor, and I can see this building across the road. Actually, I can see right through it, because the outside is nearly all glass now. A few months’ ago they started stripping the place, and you could see huge skips lifted up to the top floors, sticking out of the building. Now I can see huge men in brightly coloured shirts up on the roof rebuilding the place. The funny thing is that the department I work for will move into that building at the end of next year.

I finished the McGrath book, and enjoyed it very much. I’m back to reading one of my favourite Dutch authors, Hella Haasse. She writes historical novels, but there always is such a lot of psychological insight in what she writes. That is what makes it most interesting for me. She also manages to create a sense of history that I enjoy. The book I am reading now is about Dutch history, but it feels quite foreign to me. I recently read a book she wrote about Greece
during and just after the second world war, creating a real web, with a great many strands all falling into place at the end. And she created a wonderful set of characters, writing from various points of view, leaving and picking up the story several times.

Clothes and Books

Yesterday I went shopping for clothes, something I do not like at all. I am not very good at finding things, I don’t know how other people manage that. Also, you have to change in and out of everything all the time, I usually end up pretty depressed. Yesterday was not that bad, though I still can think of nicer ways to spend a day off. At least I got a result, I bought 6 tops. I also wanted shoes and jeans, but still, I managed to find something. I always end up going
for the same colours though, I always buy red, white, blue and black. I started off buying three red tops, and then had to force myself not to go for the red corner in all the other shops. But I didn’t like all the green and yellow things.

Of course, I started and ended in a bookshop, trust me. I got a book on personality disorders, which I managed to read yesterday after I got back. It is fascinating reading. I also got Patrick McGrath’s “Port Mungo”. There are a few writers I will buy any book of, and McGrath is one of them. He hasn’t written that many books, but they are fascinating. I started reading this one yesterday, and couldn’t put it down. It reminds me somewhat of Siri Hustvedt’s “What I Loved”, which is a haunting book for me. Another one of those authors.