Holland-days: not just a delicious sauce

Hi! My name is Denise. I've been living in the Netherlands for around 2 years now. I'm a lazy academic, a little strange, a Canadian, and a lover of whisky. Those are the most important things I can think of at the moment.

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Are you sure this is how you fight fraud? 

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This is what happens when I go to parties in the Netherlands...

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Amy Winehouse in Rotterdam

Me: Hey, could you look up the quickest way to Rotterdam Blaak from here?

Colleague with Internets: Sure thing...ah here!

Me: Thanks! Sorry for disturbing you.

Colleague: No problem at all.

Me: Well...I'll just let you go back to work... and I'll go back to Blaak.

Group of Colleagues:

Me: Really?! DID NO ONE GET THAT REFERENCE?!

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Steps for a Cooler world: last minute gifts

Step One: find some chocolate (i found chocolate letters for .25 each at HEMA)

Step Two: melt dat chocolate (double broiler style)

Step Three: pour and chill for around an hour

Step Four: make em purdy (optional) and gift them up!

YAY!

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It's Beginning to Look a lot like...

This year I'm in the Netherlands for Christmas, which meant that (for the first time in my life) I had NO Christmas decorations already in my possession. This meant only one thing...

...it was time to DIY Christmas,

and hit up IKEA,

and keep it simple,

and use what I've got in new ways, 

and remember my childhood love of beads. 

Like, REALLY remember my love for them. 

In the end, I guess it meant a lot more than only one thing. In the end, I wish you a joyous holiday filled to the brim; toasting to good health, happiness, and a kick-ass year to come.

From my heart to yours, Merry Christmas :) -Denise

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Walking in the Netherlands

As a person who walks the sidewalks a lot, I find this is what I spend most of my time thinking...

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"Ik heb mijn tas gepimpt"

My partners Mum. I couldn't decide whether or not to tease her for how silly the word "gepimpt" sounds, or let it slide. Because I love her, I let it go...this time.  Gepimpt: just say nee

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Lest we forget...

Tomb of the unknown soldier. Ottawa, Canada. 

It's remembrance day back home. I took a break from my office, and went outside for my moments of silence. I rolled over the famous poem "In Flanders Fields," and I cried a little; thinking about how many poppies would be placed on the tomb of the unknown soldier back home, and how I wasn't there to pay my respects fully.

Suddenly, I realised that I was 6 hours ahead of my homeland, and could stand vigil twice. Heck, I could even get home in time to watch the ceremony online. This made me feel blessed and very happy in a solemn sort of way. 

To all those who fought, laboured, and experienced great loss, I salute you. Your efforts have not been forgotten.

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Halloween party was a success. Keeping up with customs and tradition, I'll be in a sugar coma for the entire month of November. Also, someone come over and eat cupcakes...please

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I'm throwing a Halloween party this year. I may or may not be overly excited...

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Practical Business Education

Me: …well, it sounds like your students get quite a bit of exposure to English.

Teacher: Yes, they do. We try very hard to teach them English they can use.

Anonymous student playing outside: F*** YOU THIJS!

Me:…

Teacher:…uh. We didn’t teach them THAT.

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Delicious Decor

It's that time of year again. As Dutch doorsteps are adorned with orange orbs of bumpy textures and twisted tops I find myself thinking one thing...

Junk you'll need:  a large pot some kind of blender (preferably an immersion/staff blender) a big ass, sharp knife A metal spoon, a cutting board, a vegetable peeler, and a ladle

Ingredients:  1 medium sized red kuri (or other) pumpkin (around 1.5 kilos) 1 freakishly large yellow onion (400g or so) 1 entire bulb of garlic. That's right. Don't disobey me. 2 bricks of vegetable bouillon 3 tablespoons butter 400ml cream (2 cartons) 1 tablespoon parsley (fresh or dried) 1 tablespoon basil (fresh or dried) 1/2 tablespoon rosemary (fresh is way better) 3-4 Laurel/Bay leaves Salt and pepper (to taste)

Do these things until delicious things appear:  1. Skin the pumpkin. This part will kinda suck. 2. Cut pumpkin in half and spoon out the seeds and guts.  3. Cut the newly found flesh into cubes. Dice the onion and "gah-lic." 4. Melt the butter in yo' soup pot. Saute the onion & garlic for 10min. 5. Add the pumpkin and the stock cubes. Stir about. 6. Add boiling hot water equal to your pumpkin cubes (see note). 7. Stir. Throw in laurel leaves and leave to simmer for 25-30 minutes. 8. Check. Pumpkin should be pretty soft at this point. Remove laurel. 9. Add the cream & herbs. Blend/puree your soup until it's silky. 10. Pumpkin is rather bland, so you may need more salt than anticipated. Add salt and pepper in batches and stop when it's perfect (obviously). 

*NOTE: don't add a ton of water or your soup will be too thin. Pour in just enough so that the pumpkin cubes are submerged Freeze whatever you don't eat immediately. You can keep it for 2 whole months!

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Tumbl-r told me by blog turned two years old yesterday. I am a terrible mother. I need to go buy it an "oeps! te laat" card and feed it some monchou taart right, right away!

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On cycling in The Netherlands (during a rainstorm):

1. "Wow. It's really raining! I'm gonna cycle super fast!" 2. "Ow! The wind is hitting me right in the face! Let's change directions..." 3. "SUPER OW! How is it getting me from this angle too?!" 4. "Okay, so cycling fast isn't happening, at least I've got rain gear on." 5. "How is my rain coat not blocking this? Raincoat, are you listening?" 6. "So cold...AH! How on earth is water getting me THERE?!" 7. "Eyes too full of water...can't...see..." 8. "The cycle path is now a river. The cycle path is now a lake." 9. "No part of me is not soaked, might as well sing." 10. "Yay I'm finally inside! Apartment, here I come. Oh...I can't walk without my jeans falling off...oh well."

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Hel-LOW

While perhaps not the most earth shattering cultural find, I have noticed-time and time again-that women in the Netherlands tend to sport something I don't...a deeper voice. Even the younger girls, the children, tend to speak lower than I have, than I do, or rather, than I am used to speaking. I found it puzzling that on average, the lasses here speak more baritone than I, and wondered what makes it so? Is it genetic? Learned? or because of Language? I still don't have a good answer to explain what causes it, but I'm tending to lean more to the learned side. Your voice can operate on so many pitch levels, but the one you choose to use as your unconscious voice is probably impacted by the pitches you hear from those around you.  Overall, this observation impacts my life and interactions very little, although there have been times when I have been thrown off by a voice heard behind me that turned up to belong to a different kind of body than expected. Sometimes it's very strong and I feel a great contrast as I squeak out the little Dutch I know, feeling even more like a child who's voice has not yet matured (and communicates very basic concepts).

There are times when it's intimidating, and yes, even times when I find myself speaking deeper unknowingly. I do remember catching myself mid-sentence once and correcting my pitch, which resulted in my sounding as if I had just inhaled helium and was about to levitate away. I shall probably not do this ever again because it ended up confusing the daylights out of the person I was speaking to and was very awkward to explain: "Um...sorry about that. You guys speak low here. What?...no. Low, as in like, "looooow." But well, not THAT low- I was exaggerating. You know what I mean though, right?...Anyways, how about this weather were having..."

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What does home look like to me?

Just in case you were curious, this is where I grew up. Naturally, I miss it more than words can say. You should see it in Autumn. Colours abound!

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Name that cathedral...