Well, exciting if you’re a word nerd like me…

First of all, the second issue of The Stone is now out!  You can download it here.  My story this time is very different than the first, if you happened to read the premiere issue, which by the way is available for free until 19 May if you are interested!

The connecting factor in my two stories is, I guess, Amsterdam.  What can I say?  The city, she inspires me.  She is my muse.

The Stone is made for Kindle, but you can also download a free Kindle app for your smartphone or laptop.

Speaking of writing, I formed the Amsterdam Writer’s Group on meetup.org, so if you are Amsterdam-based (or neaby enough) and also like to bust some prose now and then, please feel free to join.  The first meetup was last night, more to come shortly!

And the last thing that is getting me all hot under the collar is concerning The Colours of Amsterdam, but that announcement will be made shortly.

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Words Elsewhere:

Hotel V: What to do in Amsterdam in May (so very, very much…and so much diversity!)

The only time I have problems is when I sleep.
-Tupac Shakur

Damn that Tupac really knew his shit, you know?

Thug niggers don’t die…we live the good life. -Tupac Shakur

Or, you know…maybe not.

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There is a small window of time that I pass through when falling asleep for the night that determines whether I will, in fact, fall asleep for the night.

I’m not sure when it is, but it looks like tonight I passed through it without realizing, without whispering the secret password, or giving the secret handshake, or whatever it was that was required to ensure my safe passage into Sleepytime (or Beddyboos, or ‘The Body’s Natural Suspension of Consciousness‘, if we’re getting technical about it).

And so tonight, it seems, no sleep for me.

If it’s nearly 2 am as I write this, and I have to be up at 6 am, then it just doesn’t make sense to get a half-assed night of sleep. That would only make me crankier.

So instead, I am up. I blog. I drink tea. And I wait for the morning.

This seems like a perfectly logical thing to do…until about 1 pm, when it doesn’t.

This momentum of caffeine and waiting for morning, and the momentum of a busy hotel on a Monday, will keep me going until about 1 pm tomorrow (today), two hours before I stop working for the day.

After I drag myself through the last two hours of work to 3 pm, when my heart is feeling squeezed (squozed?) and my throat is feeling choked up and my eyes are raw and sore and my thoughts are complete and utter bonkers (these are my sleep-deprived symptoms), then I can come home and nap.

This is how I divide the night (and morning and following day) into chunks of manageable bite-sized portions when I have trouble sleeping. Like little bitty baby steps to conquer one-by-one, steering me through the night (tossing and turning in bed), through the day (functioning at less than 5%), and then finally back to bed again.

Full sleepy circle.  Cradle-to-Grave, or so it feels.

I hate Sunday nights.

Right about here.

Where my heart is waiting

aaaaaaand here.

I’ve wanted to go to Northern Ireland for a long time now, but I guess I didn’t expect what I found there- the people, the beauty, the history, the friendliness. I didn’t expect to fall so completely for it.

I know I’ll be back one day soon, I don’t doubt that for a moment.
The only question is how soon? When, and how soon?

But why I have sleeping problems remain a mystery.  Sometimes I can’t sleep because of nightmares.  Sometimes it is because I have thoughts that keep me awake.  Other times it could be excitement, or adrenaline, or anything really.

But last night, or rather this morning, my sleep was disturbed by a word, specifically a Dutch word.

Bezuinigen.  Buh-zow-nih-ghun.

It means to cutback, for instance in budgets.   To economize.

It wasn’t the meaning of this word that woke me up.  I’m not laying in bed at night worried about budgets or bezuinigingen or whatever.

But somehow the word pushed itself into my subconscious, raised my subconscious into my consciousness, and then woke me the f*ck up.

Bezuinigen, I thought, as I lay there awake but eyes closed trying to get back to sleep. Bezuinigen.

Bezuinigen.  Bezuinigen.  Bezuinigen.

Bezuinigen, Bezuinigen, Bezuinigen, Bezuinigen, Bezuinigen, Bezuinigen, Bezuinigen.

BezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigen

BezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigen

BezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigen

BezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigenBezuinigen

Over and over and over and over until I was one hundred perfect fully awake, and somewhat pissed.

What a shitty way to wake up, and an even shittier way to stay awake, by not being able to get one simple word out of your head.

Sorry for the cursing, can you tell I’m tired?

In other better news, tomorrow I fly to Belfast for a long weekend where I will meet with my cousin (the same one I met in Milan last year).  I’ve never been to Belfast but have always wanted to go, so I’m really excited.

And even more exciting is that we will be in a hotel!  A real, live hotel!  Not a hostel or someone’s house or an apartment like all the other trips I have taken this year .  That means: comfy bed, fresh clean sheets, no dog around (sorry Mylo!), breakfast buffets, fluffy robes and slippers, and maybe (ooooo just maybe) room service!  It’s going to be heaven.

My cousin will be lucky if I leave the room long enough to meet up with her!

Have a great weekend everyone!

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Words Elsewhere:

Hotel V: What to do in Amsterdam this weekend: 4/5 May (It’s a great weekend to be in Amsterdam if you like history and national pride!)

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You know, because I’ve been through that myself lately and I know how bad it sucks.

The next morning I got this reply: “Thanks for bringing that back up” and he deleted me from his facebook.  Not just deleted, but blocked!

I…um….I think I’m missing something.

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Words Elsewhere:

Hotel V: Charlotte has a secret admirer! (no one ever sends me flowers!!!)

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Besides, you can find that kind of post elsewhere with other expat bloggers who do it so much better than I can, that expat thing.   Like Stu!  Stu will tell you why today is special in the Netherlands.

Instead, I have two other things to tell you about today.

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Today would have been Lola’s 8th birthday.

Last year on her 7th birthday.

I still think about her every day and mourn the loss of one of my truest friends every time I have a spare moment to think.

Her sixth birthday is here.  Oh and hey look her fifth birthday is here!

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And for something much less sombre, today marks exactly one year that my bikini bottoms have been wrapped around the handlebars of a bike in front of my house (not my bike, and I didn’t put them there).

I’ve been secretly rooting the whole year that they would last- that come this year’s 30th of April they would still be flying proudly there, and there they still are.  No one has taken them down, no one has dared to touch them (would you?).

I won’t bother with the story of how they got there, because frankly I don’t really know all of the details.  But I will show you.

One Year Flying Proud

See?  Still there.  Worse for wear and totally weather-beaten, but still there.  I shouldn’t feel this proud, but there you go.

I know what you’re thinking: Totally Classy.

Right?

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Words Elsewhere:

Fiets Mania: Creepshow Fiets (It’s scary because Stephen King says it is.)

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Photos of my dog.

1

2

3

4

5

Now, doesn’t that feel much better?

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Words Elsewhere:

Fiets Mania: Clomp Fiets

The Colours of Amsterdam: Warpaint

(Luckily I didn’t have a brain meltdown and ruin another potential opportunity to say what I wanted to say like this time.)

As we were sitting in the window, the scene outside of everyone passing on bikes, cars and by foot really captivated me.  It was so utterly Amsterdam, so I grabbed my camera for two quick videos.

This is a tiny slice of Amsterdam for you.

The second one really makes me laugh, because you can hear my boss babbling in the background. I think he either didn’t realize I was filming, or simply didn’t care, and started singing.

That’s him in a nutshell.

My Amsterdam, part 1: For other videos of Amsterdam, check out this post from summer 2009.

Oh, and more Amsterdam love for you!

Do you remember that cool place that I said I visited, where my love of tiny things was fulfilled (and then some)?

Well I posted about it over at Hotel V.  Check it out there!

Small things!  Squeeeeeeeee!

But lo and behold, thanks to the powers of the Googles, I stumbled upon a Dutch bar in London called De Hems!   So I added that to my to-do list and just happened to stumble upon it again when walking through Soho one day.  Luck of the Dutch! (…doesn’t have quite the same ring to it….)

De Hems, Dutch flags flying and everything.

De Hems

Now, I don’t know why, but I was expecting tackiness for some reason. I suppose I thought that, because it seems to be the only Dutch bar in London, perhaps they were going to play that up to an annoyance. You know: orange everywhere, portraits of the Queen, etc. But I am more than pleased to report that it was actually a lovely place, and I was pleasantly surprised.

Beautiful Bar

I guess the appeal for me in going to a Dutch bar when I was outside of the Dutch borders for less than a day was because I was curious about how Dutchness would be translated abroad.

There are Dutch influences the world over- in fact the first “genuine” taste of the Netherlands I ever experienced was in Japan, of all places, on a school trip to Huis Ten Bosch theme park in Nagasaki. There they had blonde white people in traditional Dutch dress working in the cafes, and tandem-bikes that you could rent to ride all over the brick lanes from windmill to windmill. In Japan.

So I suppose I was wondering if De Hems in London would be like that- more of a stereotype of all things Dutch than delving any further below the surface to, for instance, Dutch design or trading history or influence on the world. However, it was a lovely bar with tasteful decor and a nice varied menu. With, of course, some Dutch hapjes thrown in for good measure.

In case you were missing your Patatje Oorlog or Vlammetjes.

Dutch sayings on the wall- the only outwardly Dutch thing there.

Located on the edge between Soho and Chinatown, it is a perfect place to drop in for a quick drink, whether you have any affinity, curiosity or association with the Netherlands or not.  The building itself also has a great history (it was also previously owned by an American bare-knuckle boxer in the early 1800s) which is described in more detail on a sign inside the bar and one by the door. (Or just read it here- most recently it was also a comedy club venue which debuted The Mighty Boosh!)

And I heard two Dutch girls at the next table, so I’m not the only one who was curious!  Consider this an aanrader*.

(* must-do, recommendation)

De Hems Dutch Bar

11 Macclesfield Street, London, W1D 5BW

Real Dutch Person in a Real Dutch Bar! It must be genuine.

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Words Elsewhere:

Hotel V: Interesting Guest- Aming Sugandhi

I passed the Tower of London, where Elizabeth I was imprisoned and Anne Boleyn executed…

Tower of London

But I was all, “OMG look that’s where Michael brought Janine and proposed to her on Eastenders!”

The Gherkin behind the Tower

We went for a drink at the George Inn, which is a beautiful old coaching inn from the middle ages and boasts past visitors such as Charles Dickens (who wrote about it in one of his books) and Shakespeare…

Me in the George Inn

And we were all in a flutter because sitting at the table behind us was Brian May, the guitarist from Queen.  We know this was Brian May, because he wore a shirt with a huge photo of himself on it, with the words “BRIAN MAY” written in large black letters across the top.

Sneaky Phone Cam Shot of Brian May

I saw Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, which is considered the Mother of Parliament, as many governments are based on this system, and was the location where Guy Fawkes tried to assassinate King James in the Gunpowder Plot of 1605….

Big Ben

But all I could think of was that scene from ‘National Lampoons European Vacation’.  (Still makes me laugh to watch it.)

"Look kids! Big Ben! Parliament!"

(Video embedding disabled but you can watch it here.)

I saw a pub named John Snow (which is named after a guy who traced an outbreak of cholera in Soho back to a single water pump, and which I later found out was in the middle of a gay rights scandal recently)…

John Snow pub

But of course I was all, “Mmmmm, John Snow from Game of Thrones.”

John Snow and his dire wolf puppy

I went into the Victoria & Albert Museum and came across this wonderful painting of Longleat House painted in 1678….

Longleat House

And I immediately squealed because I know the Longleat House from my favorite Sunday afternoon TV show on the BBC, Animal Park, which I watch with my dog (and blogged about before here).

Watching Animal Park set at Longleat with Mylo in 2009

And of course, like probably millions of other tourists to London, every time I heard or saw Waterloo (as in the station), well of course I couldn’t help but sing to myself:

It became the inevitable soundtrack to my weekend in London, much to my chagrin.

So you see? Pop culture has ruined me and is standing in the way of any culture that I might possibly absorb on a trip to a city like London.

What’s a girl to do but embrace it?