So, after Matt and I found out that we would be allowed to stay in Amsterdam a month longer after all, we started plotting how to pack the most we can into the 20 days we have left to us. Actually,15 now...
We've had an ever changing ever growing restaurant must try list since we arrived. This little Ethiopian hole in the wall place called "Lalibela"
(the name of a small town in Northern Ethiopia) made the list only last month. I've never had Ethiopian food before, and have been wanting to try it for a long time. We were not disappointed at all... We ordered Ethiopian beers, which were served to us in a polished halved gourde settled into a woven ring so it could sit flat on the table. Very tasty. Abay's the name. Labeled in Dutch, despite being Ethiopian. We decided what we were going to order based on our guesstimation of the Dutch description of what the dish was. Then our server who also appeared to be the owner, discovered we are English speaking. Then she brought us the menu in English.... We were mostly correct in our understanding of Dutch, and still ordered the same: one chicken dish, one lamb, one spinach goat cheese side, all served on a warm bed of squishy injera (traditional huge round of goodness) and cradled in a tagine like platter with a colorful straw lid which is whisked away as your servers make room
and shuffle table decor out of harms way. Everything we ordered amazed us and kept us smiling through dinner. Dessert and coffee came with a stick of some kind of incense smoking up from a silver tray. The next day, I wanted to wear the same sweater and couldn't believe how much the scent of Lelibela had soaked into it. Think there will be good Ethiopian food in Utah? heh...
I have been saying since we first moved to Amstelveen that I would "one day" go to the
Cobra Museum that is a 5 minute walk from my front door. I finally went one weekday afternoon last week. The
cobra movement is a divergence from traditional art of the Dutch golden period. It has nothing to do with snakes...the name is an amalgamation of the founder's home city's names (Copenhagen, Brussels, and Amsterdam). It took the European art world by storm in the 1940's-50's. Now, the museum also houses contemporary art,
such as the collection from Georgia on show when I visited. School groups visit often, and the museum seems to cater to the social elite who like to use the spare rooms for wine and cheese soirees. Typical museum behavior I suppose... Among the modern pieces, I found an artist I really liked. I have seen some of her work before, but I couldn't tell you when. Her name is
Juul Kraijer, and her work focused on surreal quasi-self portraits in pencil. Some of it was a bit too out there for my appreciation, but like all art, it's up to interpretation.
Saturday morning, we went to the American bookstore for a refill, and then hopped the train to the beach town of Zandvoort. And look who we found at Amsterdam Central Station! Our newest addition to the monkey family, Aap. He joined us on the train. Using our 40% discount card, we got to the coast for a mere $3 a person,
and although it was pouring rain when we left, by the time we got there, the sun was working it's way through the gray to bring out some blue. We hoped the sun would last through the next day for the race...
We did some exploring of the town after we checked into our hotel. Our room was on the 3rd floor, with no elevator, which made us worry Matt's legs after the race... but the room was nice with a view of the lighthouse at the end of the strand. The strand itself stretches from one of town to the next and is covered almost end to end with little beach hut restaurants and cafes. Since it's still really early
in the season, and a few tractors were out busily flattening and shoring up open slots for new establishments. We stopped in one for a snack and a pint and watched some dogs playing in the chilly surf. We wandered basically what Matt would be running the next day to familiarize ourselves (especially Matt) with what to expect. We took a break to play games in a huge arcade called the Circus. Matt trounced me at dance dance revolution, and I recovered some street cred by dominating the hockey table ..I haven't played air hockey in so long... And they had my favorite old school video game, Galaga, which I had to take for a spin. Then we found a snack bar and killed some time playing pool and chatting with the locals about what life in a Dutch beach town is all about. Everyone there was excited because it's play off
time for the world cup, and Holland was doing pretty well. We were supposed to come back later that night to watch on the big screen, but after dinner (Italian), and a night cap at an eerie, faded, chipped plaster, clown decorated place called the Harlekijn (Harlequin) pub where we were the only ones in the tiny room who didn't know everyone else (and their lap dogs) for the last 30 years... we decided to turn in early and get a good nights sleep. They all wished us slaaplekker (sleep well) and tot ziens (goodbye)....
Bright and early Sunday morning, we got ourselves ready, had breakfast at our hotel of typical Dutch fixin's: a variety of breads, lunch meat, cheese slices, hard boiled eggs, and yogurt. Basically, sandwiches. Matt really does appreciate the Dutch palette... After breakfast, we walked towards the north
end of town where the Zandvoort circuit track is. When we walked past the train station, it seemed like an entire train from Amsterdam must have been packed with contenders, because our our group of walkers heading the same direction in trainers and stretchy pants went from 20 to 200 in the span of a block. The stands on either side of the circuit track where the races all began were slowly filling with family members and coaches. Matt was to run a 12k, but there were also kids races, a 5k, an 8k, and a slew of product sponsors and food vendors. A marching band banged their drums as we approached the mass of gathered runners milling around stretching and doing sprints and drills to warm up. I wish I could play a clip of the music...it was like umpa band meets techno meets Rick Astley... made us laugh. We got misted with rain for about 10 minutes and then the sun came back in full force
for the duration of the day, thankfully.
After waiting for his start gate to open up and warming himself up, Matt disappeared under the stands, and I ran up top to watch. Two other races began before Matt's group came onto the tarmac. I was amazed at how many guys were wearing black shorts and blue shirts, because it took me forever to spot Matt. He emerged about two thirds back in the mass of runners funneled into the start position, and I watched as he and the crowd were herded to the start line where they finally began to run. After banking around the first corner, I watched until he disappeared from sight. Then I hustled myself to the beach, trying to be there in time to catch him as he ran up the strand.
Matt had 5 kilometers of paved race track to cover before he would leave the park, crest a small section of dunes, and curve down to the beach. So, I had about 20 minutes to get in place. I walked along the sidelines next to the runners striding past purposefully pacing themselves en route to the first hydration station.
The ground littered with paper cups tossed aside after a quick chug made for a colorful and I thought maybe dangerous path for the runners to come. It took me 15 minutes to walk carrying our bags (his change of clothes for after). I found myself a log and copped a squat to wait. Even though it was still a chilly day over all, the beach was alive with families walking pets, building sand castles, and just strolling. When the line of runners appeared, it was obvious most of the beach combers had no idea what was going on, and stopped to watch the spectacle. Again, baffled by the amount of black shorts blue shirted runners, I almost missed Matt's approach. I took a video of him going past, and sprinted up past the column a ways to take this picture of him cranking away at about his 7th kilometer. Then I watched the seemingly unending column of runners pacing inexorably up the beach hoping Matt was getting a second or third wind. After the strand, the runners circled back towards the race track via the town center. I didn't try to catch up because I wanted to be there to catch Matt crossing
the finish line. I didn't have to wait long after I got myself a place in the stands to see Matt triumphantly zipping through people to cross the finish line. Again, I almost missed him because he thought he would take at least 10 minutes longer than he did, and surprised me. He surprised himself too by beating his best time even though he was unable to train for the 2 weeks prior to the race. Not only were we stressing over possibly (we thought likely) moving back to the States two days after the race, but he also had a huge blister that needed time to heal before he pummeled it again. Just imagine what time he could make next time if he actually gets to work on it! I'm pretty sure he's hooked now...
If you want to watch Matt cross the finish line, click this link to
Runner's World, and keep an eye out
for a red head running in black shorts and a blue and gray shirt. Matt appears about the 11 second count down mark (it's counting down in red in the bottom left hand part of the clip). It's a pretty neat system they've come up with. Maybe it's standard practice and I just don't know it, but the runners tie a plastic device with a chip embedded in it to their shoe, and crossing the start line triggers it to start counting, and at regular intervals, it checks in that you are on the course, and at the finish line, it knows how long you've taken to run to course. So, the online page has video of Matt at each of the check points, as well as the finish line. And he got a medal. It's hanging on the wall in the hall way now. We took it out for a pint and an early dinner after the race, and enjoyed the last of the daylight in the town center. Matt showed me the parts of town I hadn't seen yet that he ran through, walking very slowly...joints and blister
complaining... He showed me where the neighbors came out of their houses to cheer on the runners, where kids banged drums for them, and a little old lady told him by name to keep going and not give up (because their numbers also had their names printed too) and we closed our last day on the beach in Holland with a hotel room sunset, and some TV. We stayed another night in Zandvoort, and took our time about catching the train back to Amsterdam after our breakfast sammies and post card shopping the next morning.
Since that weekend, we've been trying to keep a "normal" routine even though we are down to a mere 2 weeks or so left here. Although, we've gone out for dinner more than average, and I have another museum planned for the morning, we're trying to keep our heads on straight, while squeezing the most that we can out of our last days in Europe. I've taken more pictures than is remotely reasonable...
those digital memories. My resolve lasted until our bus ride home when, just after pulling away from Geinwijk, we passed the family who first led us to the Hall on our arrival (Bortisie's) standing on the corner waiting for the light (on their way to the Twi meeting after the English...we only met together on Wednesdays) and smiling and waving their hearts out when the spotted us on the 47 heading to Bijlmer Arena Station for the last time. We'll miss you all so very much. So very much....
