gLausGo

For now, just some pictures to tell the story of an eventful weekend: http://picasaweb.google.com/laura.menenti/100530ArranKatrien#

Glasgow's weather has been kind to me. And never (yet) more so than last weekend, when the Powers that Be decided to plan the first day of spring. So, I did what living in a foreign country is good for: finding the holiday feeling just a 30-min ride from home (well, unless you're me, and turn out to be not so good at being your own navigation system). I drove to the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond , Van 100523 Ben Lomond left my car in the one empty space in the sea of metal (when the weather decides to be kind, it doesn't do it just for my sake), and - at the timely hour of 3pm - took the high road . At that time, most other people were taking the low road back, so so much for the feeling of empty wilderness that Scotland has to offer. On the bright side, Scottish walkers are very friendly, so my vocal cords got a true workout.There were also some other joyful encounters: Van 100523 Ben Lomond Van 100523 Ben Lomond At the top, my hope for solitary aw...

My timing for moving was lousy, hobby-wise. I had spent the last few years sometimes making myself a little bit useful to the PvdA (Dutch labour party) but I was in between foreign countries (Ecuador and Scotland) when the government fell, and didn't have much spare time to devote to political musings, what with the moving and everything. I left thinking we were in for the dirty PvdA-CDA (Christian Democrats) war, part III - and didn't mind not being around for it. But then. A text message with a lot of exclamation marks alerted me to a game-changing change: a new labour leader. Everyone excited, the party sky-rocketed in the polls, politics seemed fun again - and I wasn't there. The British government must have felt sorry:  Gordon Brown called the inevitable election just a few weeks after my arrival, just so I could enjoy TWO campaigns! To make me feel more at ease, the British decided their campaign should look familiar, though with some delay: only 50 years af...

A mere month ago (whoops, sorry) I completed a crucial step of settling in: I moved into my new home-to-be-for-the-next-two-years. I couldn't wait, this seemed the real start of it all. My parents had decided to come over, bring me a car, and celebrate my housewarming with me. Or maybe they had decided to have a nice Scottish Easter weekend. Unfortunately for them, 'Scottish' turned out to be best interpreted as 'Cleaning a Scottish house which has previously been cleaned in some hitherto unknown Scottish way which we would define 'optical' ". Luckily for me, my parents are less familiar with optical cleaning than I am, so by the time they left, my house had seen more disinfectant than they had seen of Scotland. It had also seen more carloads of Sainsbury goods added to its inventory. But that wasn't all. I lived a two-week return to the 50's: one channel, no internet, and no flights (many thanks to Eyafjakowhatshisname). Fortunately, getting in...

Living in the UK reminds me in some ways of a game we used to play as kids ´De omgekeerde wereld´ (The reversed world). We all know the British drive on the wrong, sorry, left, side of the road. We could imagine that this will lead them to put rising escalators on the left as well. As I noticed is the case when upon arrival I tried getting myself and my 45kg in 4 bags up using the descending escalator. But not for the following: - Switching anything on requires putting the switch down, not up. Luckily there are plenty of learning opportunities for this as the Scots switch on not just lights but also showers, cooking plates, ovens, power outlets. Unfortunately the switches to the power outlets are the only ones placed in a somewhat logical relation to their target (in this case, on the outlet itself). Light switches tend to be located outside the room they're intended to light. Which is a minor inconvenience compared to the shower switch being located outside the room you'r...

(sorry, this one's in Dutch - can't properly translate the events reported below). Terwijl ik in Ecuador bergen beklom/wilde dieren bekeek/emmers water over mezelf uitgestort kreeg en terwijl ik in Glasgow settlede/een huis zocht/een leven probeerde op te bouwen/aan het werk ging was thuis mijn persoonlijke Annistente aan het zorgen dat ik me geen zorgen hoefde te maken. En dat blijkt. Eén van haar missies was het verhuizen van allerhande troep van de opslag naar de vuilstort. Maar hoe doe je dat met rug die tillen onmogelijk maakt? Simpel. We rijden de stort op en meteen staan er twee geelgejaste jongemannen enthousiast te zwaaien en gebaren. - Jij, hier? Je kwam toch niet meer? De Annistente parkeert. - Nee joh, kijk daar komt een plekje vrij, ik houd hem wel even voor je vrij, dat is veel handiger! De Annistente parkeert nog een keer onder instemmend toezicht. - Is dit metaal? Is dit grof afval? De lading slinkt zinderogen terwijl ik voor de vorm ook probeer stuk...

I'm on holiday. Already. In my own home. Strange. What I definitely hadn't missed: Utrecht Central station (though that may have had something to do with the cleaners' strike).  But my home has changed. Not just in my mind. I walked into the house for the first time without the hallway gently reminding me that this was a project and not a house. And I have come full circle: the upstairs toilet that (I) broke just before moving in now flushes like nothing ever happened. Oh, the immense joy of doing the getting up - morning pee - shower - getting dressed ritual all on one floor! In some ways my holiday home is better than my real home.  In others, it's a bit sad. It's my house but without me, it's empty, but filled with boxes. I needed to bring all my toilet stuff to my own house, I needed to go find bedsheets in boxes, I don't put my clothes in the closet.  But it's not really a holiday: it's an even rounder circle. My last days in my house wi...