Fall in(to) Cambridge

Cambridge is made for fall. From the university campuses to the tree-lined streets, fall in Cambridge means two months of bright blue skies and flaming leaves set off against the red bricks of school buildings and sidewalks. I first came to Cambridge fifteen years ago as a freshman in college, only to find that fall in New England was a fundamentally different concept than fall in Portland.

First, a New England fall is sunny. In Portland, on the other hand, the rain starts around October 1 and doesn't let up until sometime in May. 

Second, thanks to the clear skies, the leaves in Cambridge crunch. If you grew up outside the Pacific Northwest, I assure you - you underestimate the miracle of crunchy leaves. All through my childhood, fall just meant decomposing piles of sodden brown leaves beaten down by weeks of rain. You didn't rake leaves as much as push them into sad little piles that vaguely resembled something scatological. 

Third, because fall is a true shoulder season here - a distinct change from what came before, but not so sudden that you just want to hide indoors - there are super-special fall festivities, annual traditions keyed to the gradual shift in season. These traditions make the fall for me. After the difficulty of moving back across the country and starting a new job this summer, fall in Cambridge was like a warm and fuzzy welcome mat. Year after year, these are my favorite (free) fall traditions:

Here

Back in Portland, two posters hung over our bed. They look identical: empty white sheets of paper framed in black. But they each have a single, barely visible line of text precisely in their center. The one on my side of the bed said: Somewhere better than this place.

It is the motto of our meta-life. We met in Boston five years ago only to move to DC, to the Hague, to Portland, and now back to Boston with the expectation of another move two years from now. On good days, I feel like my life is a grand quest, with us cast as the fearless explorers (albeit of a modern, domesticated sort).

But on bad days - and there were many bad days in recent weeks - I feel scattered, my mind and body so jangly that the skin under my skin feels like it is vibrating. In our last couple of weeks in Portland, living amongst boxes yet again, our quasi-nomadic lifestyle deeply unsettled me: it's like a perpetual motion machine, with us propelled forward every time we think we come to rest. In those moments, I was drawn to the poster that hung on the other side of the bed: Nowhere better than this place.

With our remaining time in Portland slipping away like it never existed, I tried to collect a few last moments that were purely "here." It being June in Portland, I literally stopped to smell the roses.

Strawberry picking on Sauvie Island 

Sauvie's: a flat delta island just beyond the meeting of the Columbia and Willamette Rivers, a pastoral enclave right on the edge of the city. Most of the farms are u-pick, and the first big crop is the strawberries. It was a good year for Oregon strawberries; at the very start of June, the vines were already dense with fruit, real strawberries that are bright red and delicate all the way to the core. These strawberries are too fragile to ship; they can only be eaten locally. My sister wanted flats of them to make strawberry jam, yet with four of us, the picking only took twenty minutes. (A jar of my sister's Oregon strawberry jam was the first item in our new fridge in Boston. It didn't last long.)

The Rose Festival Grand Floral Parade

A repetitive childhood memory: waiting for what seemed like eons on an overcast day with drizzle for the annual Rose Festival parade to start. Was it an omen that this year, for the first time in my memory, parade day dawned bright and sunny?

Top 10 Den Haag Experiences

For a friend's visit earlier this summer, I compiled a list of our favorite Den Haag experiences.  As we leave The Hague for more American pastures, it seems a fitting adieu to our year of going Dutch*:

1. Classic tourism, Hague-style

By which I mean, an hour in the Mauritshuis (The Hague's world-class museum), followed by a walk around the Binnenhof (the Dutch parliament buildings).

The Binnenhof. Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

2. An afternoon in Delft 

Take the tram, or better yet, ride a bike down to Delft, a condensed version of all that is charming about Dutch towns: canals with narrow streets and white-railed bridges, churches with tilting towers, big squares and little squares and a thriving market on Saturdays. If the weather's nice, have a beer in the Beestenmarkt, a smaller square lined with cafes and full of Dutch people hanging out under leafy trees. No matter what, have a meal at Rossio - our most favorite restaurant in all of the Netherlands.

Beer on the Beestenmarkt

3. Scheveningen in the summer

Dozens of these temporary cafes line the beach during summer.

 The  Hague's beach along the North Sea, Scheveningen is a surprisingly popular destination for German tourists, who like to dig holes in the sand.  (Not only is this in fact a stereotype that Dutch people harbor against Germans, it also appears, based on our limited observations, to be true.) The most fun aspect of the beach scene - even more fun than watching Germans dig holes - is the seasonal bars and cafes that pop up along the sand during the summer months.  These are neither permanent structures nor make-shift encampments, but full-on restaurants with stylish outdoor lounge seating that magically appear sometime in May and then magically disappear - entirely - sometime in September.  You have to see it to believe it.

Feeling peaceful yet?

4. A tour of the Peace Palace

Andrew Carnegie's gift to the world, the Vredespalais is stunning on the outside and full of equally stunning treasures on the inside, presents from grateful countries around the world. The Palace is the seat of the UN's court, the International Court of Justice, which peacefully resolves border disputes, fishery fights, and other heated arguments between countries.  We take it for granted these days, but it if weren't for the ICJ, countries would still be going to war every year over the shifting courses of river boundaries and over-depletion of cod stocks.  Unfortunately, the Peace Palace is largely closed to the public, but if you plan in advance (or know someone who knows someone), you can schedule a tour.

5. Biking in the Wassenaar dunes

This activity combines two ultimate Dutch experiences: bikes and the sea.  An awesome bike path leads north from Scheveningen; at the top of the tallest dunes, you can look back at The Hague in the hazy distance.

(Already missing our Dutch bikes...)

6. Coffee at Zebedeus and/or ice cream at Florencia 

Florencia is an institution in The Hague, serving cheap coffee and cheaper ice cream to pensioners, motorcycle gangs, children, and everyone in between for something like 40 years.  It has the interior decoration of a smoke-filled Italian cafeteria from the 1980s, but any aesthetic doubts are quickly soothed by the 70-cent icecream cones. Based on a significant sample set ;-), I can strongly recommend the caneel (cinnamon), gember (ginger) and stroopwafel.  

Hanging out like Dutch pensioners at Florencia. 
Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

As for their coffee, you're much better off going down the street to Zebedeus, which serves - we have officially concluded - the best coffee in town. Plus it's built into the side of The Hague's Grote Kerk (literally, "Big Church"), which is kind of cool. Zebedeus also has very good food - indeed, it's my favorite restaurant in The Hague.

7. Beer in the Grote Markt 

Particularly recommended for a sunny afternoon, when the square is packed with people sunning themselves.  We are particularly fond of De Zwarte Ruiter, which has an atmospheric interior for those colder, darker days of winter.

At the height of summer, the tables are twice as thick. 
Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

8. An off-beat museum

If you've made it this far down the list, it's probably time for some more cultural amusements. Among The Hague's more unusual museums, I particularly like the Panorama Mesdag and the Museum Meermanno (a.k.a., the Museum of the Book). (I've previously described both here.) 

9. Shopping at the Turkish Market 

A massive open-air market that runs Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, De Haagse Markt (it's actual name) is what we call "a slice of life."  (See also my brief description here.)

10. Lunch or dinner at Simonis

Hit up the main branch of this local institution, amongst the unromantic docks of the Scheveningen port, for the freshest seafood in a no-frills setting and at surprisingly reasonable prices.  (The Dutch like a good value.)  In fact, their raw herring is so good, I had to revise my initial opinion of that ultimate Dutch delicacy.

Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

 * Yes, Dutch couples really do split the bill on dates.

Looking for more Hague ideas? Check out my map of all our favorite places: Our Hague.

Biking along the Edge of the World

Sometimes you need to go someplace just because it's there - because that black hole sitting on the edge of your mental geography goads you and it's within your power to extend the boundaries of your known universe by some small increments.  At least, that's how I felt as a fat ten-year-old trying to bike up unexplored blocks in the 'hood that were inconveniently pitched at 45-degree inclines.

That's also how I felt about the north of the Netherlands - the upper half of the country above Amsterdam which no one else seems curious about. But it's there.

It's also different.  Friesland, the northwestern province of the country, has its own language that is entirely distinct from Dutch. Indeed, Dutch was not the official language of the Netherlands until 1993.  (They might as well have skipped over Dutch entirely and gone straight to English, but that's a different essay.)  In between Amsterdam and Friesland are vast tracts of land - entire provinces - that were under water 100 years ago.  And to accentuate the far distance you can travel in an hour's drive north of Amsterdam, Frisia is replete with funny looking little ponies, so miniature that they turned a grown man (Jeff) into a cooing eight-year-old girl.

Cooooo.

It's good to remind yourself of the power you wield over your own life as a fully independent adult. I wield this power sometimes when I skip the oatmeal Jeff dutifully makes for me in the morning in lieu of a pain au chocolat at my office canteen.  Or when I start watching the movie that comes on TV at 11 pm even though it's a school night and I'm already up past my bedtime.  Similarly, I decided I really needed to see the north of the Netherlands.  So in August I rented a car and dragged Jeff along on an entirely selfish two-day northern adventure.

It did not blow me away; it was different from the rest of the Netherlands, but only as different as, say, North Carolina is from South Carolina.  But our ultimate destination did move me greatly: it felt like we were biking along the edge of the world.

Portland or Den Haag?

In recent months, Jeff has made no secret of his growing love affair with The Hague - a sentiment, it should be noted, that is so unusual amongst the expat set that it draws suspicion bordering on outright hostility.  This state of affairs has led me to adopt a line of argument that can be roughly paraphrased as "Portland-is-just-like-The-Hague-only-not-in-Europe."

There is actually quite a bit of truth to this argument.  Both are gray-weather cities full of white people who like to think they are more liberal than they actually are, where bicyclists have privileged status and pot smoking is (more or less) tolerated.  In the spirit of my Dutch vs. Danish musings (albeit without the fun alliteration), I present Round 2: Portland or Den Haag?

Postcard: The Dunes of Wassenaar

Around Easter, Jeff and I rode our bicycles north out of town, through the dunes bordering the North Sea. The bike path winds around and up and down hills of sand, much more tiring than our everyday flat city biking. At the tops of the tallest dunes, we would pause to look around, but all we could see was sand, pale brush, tall buildings in the hazy distance, and perhaps a thin blue slit where we knew the sea should be. Pausing early on, we saw these sand-colored ponies - perhaps wild? - grazing among the reeds of an inland dune lake.

Touring the Netherlands: The Golden Oldies

We've hit peak tourist season in the Netherlands (late spring is an excellent time to travel here), and Jeff and I are just racking up the Dutch Golden Oldies. Keeping in mind that I live a G-rated life, what do you think of when I say "Holland"? Yup, we've pretty much done it.

Exhibit 1: Tulips

For about three weeks at the end of April, the fields from Leiden to Amsterdam were strips of bright color, so fragrant you could smell them through train windows (especially the hyacinths). Along the roadsides, impotent field owners' signs pleaded unsuccessfully with the hordes of tourists, "PLEASE Do Not Walk in the Flower Beds."

Sixty years ago, the mayor of a small town and the major bulb exporters in the region had the brilliant idea of distilling the beauty of the bulb fields into a major garden exposition: draw tourists, market products, spread a little flower love. Thus the Keukenhof was born.

Of Bikes and Shame

The problem with bicycling to work, I have discovered, is that every day I seem to find a way, at some complicated intersection or another, to do something really stupid. Although crisis is always averted, it is usually thanks to the quick reflexes of the unlucky pedestrian, bicyclist or driver who made the mistake of crossing my path.

Take this morning, for example: it being a fine spring day full of blue skies and birdsong, I set out for work on my bike - and immediately did something really stupid. Faced with a barrage of Dutch from the construction workers observing my stupidity, I felt painfully clueless (were they scolding me or defending me?) and wished I knew enough Dutch to apologize. Instead I could only stare blankly back at them and the livid driver I almost rode in front of. But the worst - oh, the worst - is the righteously indignant glare. The driver this morning gave me a doozy - as in, "Are you crazy! Or just really dumb?" It's a version of Dutch I understand completely.

As I continued on my way, shaken and (I admit) near tears, I came to realize that there is (surprise) a lesson to be learned. It goes something like this:

1. Living a good and full life requires trying new things.
2. However, when we try something new for the first time, we will not be good at it.
3. Thus, as we undertake any new endeavor, we will make mistakes - many of them.
4. But those mistakes help us get better at the new endeavor, much more quickly and successfully than if we never made mistakes.
5. Plus mistakes can sometimes lead to humorous stories of self-deprecation that provide good foder for cocktail parties and dinner conversations.
6. In conclusion: Mistakes are good, learning curves are important, and we can't give up just because we're embarrassed.

So right about now, you're probably thinking, "Thank you, Captain Obvious." But as a recovering perfectionist, for me this is a very hard lesson to learn. In fact, it's a lesson I've "discovered" and "learned" many times already. Two steps forward, one step back.

In the meantime, if anyone knows of a Road Guide for Bicycling in Holland, please let me know.

(This post was brought to you in part by Heather B., who first told me it's OK to try things I know I won't be good at; Ms. Milani, who taught me the importance of having good foder for cocktail parties; and Mysti, who likes to say "in conclusion".)

The Little Green Bike That Could

I did it, I did it, I did it! I rode my bike to work today!!

Lest you think this is no big deal, I wish to remind you of my lack of adult bike-riding skills. I might also point out that this undertaking involved a total of 10 miles of biking in work attire in winds topping 25 mph (and it was uphill both ways - er...)

So yay for having quests, and for persevering.

It's like riding a bike...

The last bike I owned was purple, and it had streamers coming out the handle bars and blue stars on the seat. Needless to say, my biking skills are a little rusty.

But Jeff has a fantasy of us riding Dutch bicycles together while holding hands. Given that it's against the (unspoken) law here to wear helmets, such dare devil antics will take practice. We started on Monday with a gentle ride in one of Den Haag's many parks: Haagse Bos.

I forget how nice it is to be in a wooded park, where you can't hear cars or city life. We biked along muddy paths and streams until we reached the Queen's residential palace, Huis ten Bosch. It was refreshing to realize that, even though we have been here three months already, there is plenty more of the Hague to explore. I am designating January as our "Explore Holland" month.