Budget Nomad: April 2006

Monday, April 24, 2006

You would think

You would think that after 4 1/2 years here, I would have by-passed some ethnocentric thinking regarding the immigration system in regard to North Americans. However, it seems that each time I am faced with immigration problems; it creeps back into my thinking. It is going to give me an ulcer. Shouldn't there be some differences between how we are treated as opposed to those from Nigeria, for example?

Somehow, when Ron and I renewed our annual visas after the first year, each of us had different dates for renewal for the following year. His second visa was renewed for 268 days and mine for 365. This put us into different cycles for renewal and has continued as such ever since. This created an issue when we applied for our 5 year Residency Permit since we had to wait for my 3 full years of residency before we could apply. Waiting, however, cost us dearly.

Even if your application is being processed for the 5 year Residency, you still have to maintain your annual Visa. Ron's Visa was to expire two months before the Residency permit was due to be approved or rejected. Hence, he had to reapply for an annual Visa for the sake of the two months. To make things more complicated, this also entails applying for a new Work Permit first, though Work Permits will not be needed any longer once we have the Residency permit. Confused yet? This is just the tip of the iceberg.

Our worker from the agency who charges us arms and legs for their services to 'help' us get our documents calls Ron the Tuesday before Easter to tell him that he has to go to Immigration and reapply for the annual the Tuesday after Easter. She then gives him the list of documents he needs to collect. Bear in mind that Good Friday, most businesses including our accountant and lawyer's offices are closed. Easter Monday is also a legal holiday.Ron went around like a hyperactive child on speed, collecting what he was told he needed from various places, but some would not be available until Tuesday morning. He appointment at Immigration was at 2:00 that afternoon. After all of this running, we were not aware that the tram we would normally take to the Immigration office was out of service, so he had to take three buses to get there, arriving 15 minutes late. We thought he had done a fine job and all was well. But alas…

This last Friday morning we were planning on taking the 10:00 train to Vienna to meet people who were friends of friends and we had only met once before. At 8:30, Ron gets a call from our agency. The worker told him he needs a form from the APEH (Similar to the IRS) office showing he had been paying taxes and that the accountant has filed his tax returns. Of course, on Hungarian time schedules they needed to bring it to Immigration that afternoon. He had to try to track down the accountant, but was told he would not in the office until 9:30. When he found the accountant, he said that the taxes do not need to be filed until May, so they are not done yet. He gave Ron a form to take to APEH.

I called the people we were meeting and told them not to count on us until sometime later, if at all. Ron ran to the accountant and then to APEH to stand in line. In the meanwhile, I get a call from the Immigration attorney from the agency working with us telling me that Immigration wants a letter counter-signed by our attorney stating that the business gives permission for me to live in the flat. On Thursday before Easter, they had called and said they needed this letter for Ron. At that time, I had called our attorney who was on his way out of town for the weekend, but he arranged for another attorney in his office to write the letter, sign it and deliver it here on Easter Monday (to the tune of $$$).
Now this Immigration lawyer said that our worker from IRC was 'misunderstood' and we need the letter for ME, not for Ron. I was so livid, I told him to call our attorney and speak with him directly since their 'misunderstandings' were costing us money. I gave him the number and e-mailed our attorney to expect the call. The business is in both of our names, there is no one else involved in the business, it seems insane that this should be such a hassle.

By 3:30, Ron was not back yet from the tax office, so I called the people we were to meet and left a message that we were not going to make it and to call me back. I called the hotel we were going to stay at and cancelled the reservation without a refund. It was through Priceline.Com so it was 45 Euros, another waste of money due to the agencies inefficiency. I was so angry, I knew I could not be civil and relaxed. Ron got back at 4:00 with a paper from APEH, called the Immigration attorney and ran it over to the agency office. The attorney said he did not know if that would be sufficient. Ron said he lost his temper and demanded to know how Immigration could require a tax return that was not due until next month.At 6:00, I received an e-mail from our personal attorney saying that the Immigration attorney had not called him yet about the form for the flat. I verified that his phone number was correct and he gave me his mobile also, which I e-mailed to the agencies attorney.

The people in Vienna called later Friday night and asked if they could come here for the day on Saturday. I was so upset over the hassles, loss of money and general idiocy over this whole thing, I was feeling totally anti-social but I told them yes anyway. So they showed up Saturday morning. They wanted to go to the thermals and we sent them off on their own; I needed the time to decompose over these turns of events. They were planning
on taking the 8:20 train back to Vienna after taking us to Shalimar, an Indian restaurant for dinner. We lost track of time and they missed their train when they got there. They were back on our doorstep and stayed over night. They are leaving this afternoon.
All during Friday's confusion with phone calls between attorneys, two students who I really care deeply about each had an interview for a scholarship to the US. If accepted, they would go to either Bard or Trinity College for one academic year, have all of their expenses paid, and receive a monthly stipend, a new laptop computer, and a travel allowance at the end of the term. They both thought we were going to be in Vienna, but were calling me for the good news, bad news. One received it and the other did not. I had to work hard at being excited and sad for each of them, not letting my mood interfere with theirs and not sharing with them the mishaps of the weekend.At the same time, the land line phone was ringing, the mailman was at the door with a package and I was ready to tear someone apart. Knowing Balazs would be gone for a year was bittersweet. We have dubbed him our 'nephew' since we have become so close to him. We are going through a joyful mourning which added to the heavy burden of emotions. He is like the kid we never had and is here often. He is Ron's sidekick for anything involving classical music performances.

So things are still not settled as far as we know with Immigration. On Monday we have to contact our worker and see what still needs to be done yet. The race continues. I hate this!!! I keep asking myself if it is all worth the aggravation. The jury is still out.

After the fact, I remembered that my teaching partner's engagement party was Saturday night, but though I told him I would not be able to make it, I also had forgotten to bring their engagement present on Thursday, the last teaching day of the week for us. Ron, the master wrapper had forgotten to wrap it on Wednesday night since I did not remember to remind him. Then I forgot all about it on Thursday, when I saw Aaron, my teaching partner, so I never mentioned anything at all. What a heel I am. With all of the other calls from the agency, before Easter weekend, things became chaotic.I swear I will never refer them to anyone. After this is all over, there will be a major entry discussing the details with their name and fees, plus their trumped up charges.

I am going to curl up into a ball now.

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Sunday, April 23, 2006

Again With Visa Problem?

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This last Friday morning we were planning on taking the 10:00 train to Vienna to meet people who were friends of friends and we had only met once before. At 8:30, Ron gets a call from our agency. The worker told him he needs a form from the APEH (Similar to the IRS) office showing he had been paying taxes and that the accountant has filed his tax returns. Of course, on Hungarian time schedules they needed to bring it to Immigration that afternoon. He had to try to track down the accountant, but was told he would not in the office until 9:30. When he found the accountant, he said that the taxes do not need to be filed until May, so they are not done yet. He gave Ron a form to take to APEH.

I called the people we were meeting and told them not to count on us until sometime later, if at all. Ron ran to the accountant and then to APEH to stand in line. In the meanwhile, I get a call from the Immigration attorney from the agency working with us telling me that Immigration wants a letter counter-signed by our attorney stating that the business gives permission for me to live in the flat. On Thursday before Easter, they had called and said they needed this letter for Ron. At that time, I had called our attorney who was on his way out of town for the weekend, but he arranged for another attorney in his office to write the letter, sign it and deliver it here on Easter Monday (to the tune of $$$).

Now this Immigration lawyer said that our worker from IRC was 'misunderstood' and we need the letter for ME, not for Ron. I was so livid, I told him to call our attorney and speak with him directly since their 'misunderstandings' were costing us money. I gave him the number and e-mailed our attorney to expect the call. The business is in both of our names, there is no one else involved in the business, it seems insane that this should be
such a hassle.

By 3:30, Ron was not back yet from the tax office, so I called the people we were to meet and left a message that we were not going to make it and to call me back. I called the hotel we were going to stay at and cancelled the reservation without a refund. It was through Priceline.Com so it was 45 Euros, another waste of money due to the agencies inefficiency. I was so angry, I knew I could not be civil and relaxed. Ron got back at 4:00 with a paper from APEH, called the Immigration attorney and ran it over to the agency office. The attorney said he did not know if that would be sufficient. Ron said he lost his temper and demanded to know how Immigration could require a tax return that was not due until next month.

At 6:00, I received an e-mail from our personal attorney saying that the Immigration attorney had not called him yet about the form for the flat. I verified that his phone number was correct and he gave me his mobile also, which I e-mailed to the agencies attorney.

The people in Vienna called later Friday night and asked if they could come here for the day on Saturday. I was so upset over the hassles, loss of money and general idiocy over this whole thing, I was feeling totally anti-social but I told them yes anyway. So they showed up Saturday morning. They wanted to go to the thermals and we sent them off on their own; I needed the time to decompose over these turns of events. They were planning

on taking the 8:20 train back to Vienna after taking us to Shalimar, an Indian restaurant for dinner. We lost track of time and they missed their train when they got there. They were back on our doorstep and stayed over night. They are leaving this afternoon.

All during Friday's confusion with phone calls between attorneys, two students who I really care deeply about each had an interview for a scholarship to the US. If accepted, they would go to either Bard or Trinity College for one academic year, have all of their expenses paid, and receive a monthly stipend, a new laptop computer, and a travel allowance at the end of the term. They both thought we were going to be in Vienna, but were calling me for the good news, bad news. One received it and the other did not. I had to work hard at being excited and sad for each of them, not letting my mood interfere with theirs and not sharing with them the mishaps of the weekend.

At the same time, the land line phone was ringing, the mailman was at the door with a package and I was ready to tear someone apart. Knowing Balazs would be gone for a year was bittersweet. We have dubbed him our 'nephew' since we have become so close to him. We are going through a joyful mourning which added to the heavy burden of emotions. He is like the kid we never had and is here often. He is Ron's sidekick for anything involving classical music performances.

So things are still not settled as far as we know with Immigration. On Monday we have to contact our worker and see what still needs to be done yet. The race continues. I hate this!!! I keep asking myself if it is all worth the aggravation. The jury is still out.

After the fact, I remembered that my teaching partner's engagement party was Saturday night, but though I told him I would not be able to make it, I also had forgotten to bring their engagement present on Thursday, the last teaching day of the week for us. Ron, the master wrapper had forgotten to wrap it on Wednesday night since I did not remember to remind him. Then I forgot all about it on Thursday, when I saw Aaron, my teaching partner, so I never mentioned anything at all. What a heel I am. With all of the other calls from the agency, before Easter weekend, things became chaotic.

I swear I will never refer them to anyone. After this is all over, there will be a major entry discussing the details with their name and fees, plus their trumped up charges.

I am going to curl up into a ball now.

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Home again, home again

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Having packed most of my things last night, the morning was free and easy, too easy. What could I do to fill the hours before leaving for the airport? By 10:00 am, I was showered, shaved, and ready to move my things downstairs on the way to breakfast. Due to the treacherous nature of the stairs, it was not worth risking a broken body part taking both the carry-on and the backpack down in one trip. I brought the carry-on down and left it in the hallway where luggage sits and waits. I dragged myself back up the stairs, did one last check of the room and grabbing the backpack said good-bye to my sleeping accommodations.

Of all of the personnel at the hotel, the one guy who worked the three day shifts, I like the least. He is not as service oriented as the others. Lest I be considered persnickety, I overheard others comment the same thing. He is not as quick to clean up the dirty tables as the others are and he is not as responsive about checking the coffee pot or the juice. Yesterday, one guest waited a good ten minutes while he sat at the desk. I thought I heard the sounds of an old fashioned adding machine, but could not see over the desk. In my mind, if you know you have a guest waiting and you are not working with a guest on the phone or at the desk, you stop what you are doing and give priority to the guest. The others seem to do this, but not this guy.

He also irritated me when I went to put my backpack behind the desk. He was off somewhere and when he appeared he did not give the appearance of having been too busy. I did not go behind the desk, but put my backpack with my coat on a built in chair to the right of it, recessed in the wall. Rather than being polite, he came upon me and said “Excuse me, but what are you doing?” I turned and with an authoritarian tone that seethed with “I am a paying guest, you twerp” said “Theo told me when I checked in that this would be safer back here. It had my computer in it.” Theo was the magic word since he is the owner. However, he was still snippy enough to ask me when I would collect it and if my coat could live somewhere else. You would think it were the queen’s throne the way he was carrying on. I said I would collect my coat after I had my breakfast as I was leaving for a few hours until I left for the airport. He did not seem to appreciate this, but he did not refute it.

The breakfast room was almost full. At first I thought I would have to share the table with my new Costa Rican friend/neighbor, but one table was free, so I sat by myself. When a couple of French women came down, a table emptied, but it was still messed from the last guests. They stood there waiting and Mr. Attitude asked them if he could help them. If he were paying attention, he would have known they wanted a seat with a clean space. When they told him they were waiting for a table, he said “If you just wait, I will clear one.” Smack his face, why don’t you?

Now I was faced with hours to kill before getting the tram to Central Station to take the train to the airport. I did what I have been doing the last four days, I walked. I walked to the park that was designed by the same landscape architect as the famous gardens I spent the day at on Sunday. This park was lacking flowers, charm, and appeal. It did not seem to offer much except walking paths. After 20 minutes of a fast walking pace, I turned around and went back the entrance.

Finding a cozy bench in a canal, my book was a diversion for about 15 minutes, until my blue fingers caught my attention. It was decidedly colder today, feeling more like autumn than spring. The thought of walking to the Rembrandt Museum and tour the gift shop seemed like an idea I could warm up to.

From there, the coffee shop around the corner from the hotel was the next logical choice for some warm respite where I could read for an hour before collecting my luggage. When I returned to the hotel, Theo was there and I was pleased to see him. He is very hospitable.

On the tram, I was able to buy a one time ticket for 1.60 Euro and headed to the train station. My timing was excellent as the train was there and left within five minutes of my boarding. At the airport, I found Wizz Air and was checked in in a matter of 10 minutes. Now I am sitting in the Diners Club lounge with an hour to spare before I head for my flight. The DC lounge is not spectacular, but more than adequate. There is no WiFi access and the use of Internet is charged. They have drinks, but the snacks are limited to chips and small packages of cheese. It could be worse; they could not have a lounge at all, like in Paris.

Wizz uses the ‘H’ lounge, a kind of generic lounge with no amenities. The sign asks that you do not enter security until your flight is displayed on the screen. Once it has, you go directly to the gate and board. Other than the child behind me that screamed for 80% of the flight, it was uneventful, but efficient.

As soon as I arrived, I turned on my mobile and there were four SMS messages from students, then one actual call also from a student. For a minute, I felt like I had never left.

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Monday, April 10, 2006

A Dutch Guardian Angel's Advice

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If anyone should come to Amsterdam, I thought I would share the information that the Dutch Guardian Angel gave to me regarding the ticket machines.

A demo is available on the web at http://webdemo.ns.nl/e2000.html

Note that I could not get the credit card machine to work with my Mastercard. Many in front of me were having problems too, so I would make sure I used a coin machine in the future.

Raak het scherm aan is: Touch screen

Enkele reis is: single

Dagretour is: day return, you are returning the same day

Touch the letter for the city you are going. In my case it was L for Leiden. Some machines will list all of the cities with their codes and there is a numeric pad to put in the city code.

If the screen shows the cities, touch the city you want to go.

2e is: Second class (there is not that much difference to waste the money for 1st)

Vol Tarief is: full price (even if you are senior, you may not qualify for a discount if you are not an EU citizen)

Vandaag geldig is: valid today

Kaartje is: number of tickets

Muntgeld is: coins
The amount you need to insert will display. Enter the coins and wait for your ticket.

Remember the problem I had was not having enough coins to cover the fare, otherwise I could have avoided waiting in line for purchasing a ticket.

In Amsterdam, there are women who are wearing blue and red hats and are service persons to assist. If you think you will need one, get one to assist you before you are standing in front of the machine. There may not be one within screaming range.

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Re-Entry Mode

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Last night was not a good night’s sleep. It sounded like someone was tapping a nail into the wall on the other side of my bed headboard. That woke me continually, but when I did get to sleep, I dreamed of students not turning in their papers on time. Ron calls this my re-entering stage; this is the time when I know it is getting close to going back to the routine of home again. There will be papers to read and correct and a professional article to write, but thankfully, I will still be off from school until the 19^th of April.

Hearing the alarm at 9:30 am was not a pleasant sound, but I got up anyway. I could hear my new neighbor in the shower, so I did my preliminaries in the room until I heard him go back to his room. While I was waiting, I uploaded yet again, the pictures I took yesterday. I did it last night only to realize 1 ½ hours later, that I uploaded the 239 pictures without the captions. I deleted the album and started it again.

My new neighbor and I went to breakfast almost simultaneously, but did not meet until we were seated in the breakfast room and gave our room numbers again to the multitasking clerk. Retrospectively, I cannot remember his name, but he is from Costa Rica, works for Dole bananas as an accountant and has a business trip to London each year. He extends it to come to Amsterdam and some other cities before heading back. We talked all during breakfast and then he was off to an exhibit at a museum and I had intended to go to the Indonesian exhibit at the New Church.

My transportation pass expired at 11:15 today and I left the hotel at 11:00. By rights, I could have taken the tram, but the air was cool, clear, and fresh, so I thought the walk would be therapeutic for my aching legs that were abused yesterday. It was a relaxed pace as the path chosen was not the most frequented by the mobs of tourists. It is the one with the least number of shops on the way.

In my mind, the figure of four Euros for admission to the Indonesian exhibit happened to stick. As I was handing a 20 Euro bill to the cashier, she was just finishing the words “10 Euros, please”. Opps! Did I really want to see this exhibit 10 Euros worth? Not really! I could barely find Indonesia on a map if I had to do it under pressure, why did I really care? As this mental tennis match was happening, I already had my change and ticket in hand. Too inhibited to say, “Sorry, I just realized that I did not care that much about Indonesia that much, can I have a refund”, I went in anyway. What was option B? Well, I could walk the same streets that I have covered six times already to the point on knowing

each manhole cover in a five mile radius or I could spend some time broadening my mind. The decision of whether or not it was worth the money came tumbling down to a final verdict when I asked if pictures were allowed. I was told that they were not. Well if I cannot take photos, then why am I here? You might as well tie my hands behind my back and then tell me to make a speech.

After two hours of roaming around the exhibits and watching a 14 minute movie, I felt justified in leaving. There was one spectacular sculpture from the 13^th century of a female deity. The detail was exquisite. This validated the expense. Sculpture has always been my favorite form of art, but at the moment, I am reading The Agony and the Ecstasy, so I am fine tuned to appreciating it.

Okay, Mr. Intellectual, what do you do now? Your transportation pass has expired, it is

not worth 6.30 Euro for a 24 hour pass and you cannot make sense of the stripkaart, so what do you do now? It looks like you do what you have been doing all along, you walk. A latte sounded really appetizing and there are two places I knew would not disappoint me.

One was around the corner from the hotel, so I headed back down to the one with the rainbow coffee canisters. It was a long walk with sore legs, so I needed to fortify myself halfway with two muesli cookies. At the coffee shop, I was able to get a seat right under the lilies that had photographed a couple of days ago. Again, with the slow wilting of the flowers, their changed personalities called for being photographed once again. While the camera was at hand, I was able to capture a baby with a humorous hat as mom was getting her off of the bike. I wanted to get a secret shot of the woman sitting across from me, but she shifted and spoiled the mood or my mood; I am not sure which.

It is at least two miles back to the hotel from this coffee shop. I tried walking in a way I had never done before to see some new sights, but the glitch in that plan is that there are not always bridges to get over the canals where you need them. That plan was not as fruitful as I had intended, but I did come across a gay bookstore that I have gone to back in 1984. At this point, I do need to say that coffee shop is not a euphemism for anything more than a caffeine stop. Smoking weeds give me a headache and set my sinuses off, so I do avoid those. The bookstore as well is not euphemistic for a porn store. This is a legitimate bookstore that sells books, magazines, and gay themed movies. I could not believe that they were selling new copies of novels I had read in the 70s. Who would have believed John Reichy’s novels would still be around today and in new editions besides? It was a real time warp experience.

As I was walking, I was debating the pros and cons of traveling alone. This occurred to me because after spending the last 12 ½ years in a relationship, it is rare that I travel solo. The only other times that I have were either for educational reasons or to see my nephews, but never strictly for a vacation.

Pro – You can eat wherever you want without anyone saying “I don’t feel like that tonight.”

Con – You have to decide on your own what you don’t feel like eating tonight.

Pro – There are no time constraints. You can get up and go when you wish.

Con – There is no one to push you out of the hotel door.

Pro – You can spend as much time as you want in a store, a museum, or a coffee shop.

Con – You can spend too much time in a store, a museum, or a coffee shop.

Pro – You can walk as much as you want and not have to worry about anyone else’s needs.

Con – You don’t have someone with better sense then you do who will say it is time to take a tram now.

Pro – You can sit at dinner and ignore everyone else if you choose to.

Con – You are sitting alone at dinner being ignored by everyone since they choose to.

I know there are many who travel alone and love it. I have never been one of them. When I have traveled alone in the past, it was only because I could not get anyone to go with me. That was never a deterrent for me to go somewhere. I would rather go it alone than not go at all.

The chill in the air was turning frosty, so going back to the hotel did not seem like a

bad idea at that point. As I ventured over well worn paths, I look another look at this lock and realized there is a bagel shop next door. Locks and Bagels is the name of this photo. I cracked up.

It took an hour or so to blog yesterday’s ventures. It took six edits to get the font correct and I am not sure yet that it is, but working on a laptop with a touchpad, my fingers are getting calloused. Placing pictures in is a major hassle. Each picture goes to the top regardless of where you try placing it and then needs to be dragged into place. This is especially difficult with the small screen of a laptop, so I will improve them when I get home and am working with a swivel screen monitor and a mouse.

For dinner, I went to the falafel place that Ron and I went to often at the end of the flower market. It is a bargain for 3.50 Euros. Feeling gluttonous, I made my last trip to the French fry stand for my last sate sauce fix. On the way home, the air was frigid. I told the desk clerk that if it were to rain now, it would be snow. When does spring come to this country? Has the Spring Fairy passed them over for being bad? The radiator is cranked on high in my room.

The plan for tomorrow it to go to breakfast late with my bags in hand since check-out time is 11:00. My flight is not until 4:30, but I will most likely leave after a leisurely breakfast and then find the Diners Club lounge to spend the extra time in.

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Sunday, April 09, 2006

Keukenhof

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When the alarm rang at 8:30 am, I was only half asleep anyway. At 7:45, something broke my sleep and I checked the clock to make sure I had not overslept. When I was assured that I hadn’t it was easy to attempt getting those last few winks. My neighbor was using the shower as I started in that direction, but there are always pre-shower preparations that consume time: putting in the contacts, shaving, and so on.

By 9:30, I was sitting downstairs waiting for breakfast. The tables were empty of dishes or flatware. There was only one guest eating, a young Asian woman. She had a large plate and was using a fork, but as I passed her by, I was more taken with the fact that she was Asian and a woman in a gay hotel, than I was with what she was eating.

The desk clerk/breakfast server asked if I wanted coffee. It he had taken more than a cursory look at my face, he would have just started an IV drip with it. So I sat there waiting for some semblance of something edible to appear, when a thirty-something young man sat diagonal from me. He said good morning and told me his name was Gregory. When our waiter/desk clerk/other job titled person asked our room numbers, I said 25. Gregory said to him 24 and then to me “Oh, you’re my neighbor.” I felt like I had just moved into a new condo and was getting to meet my neighbors with his comment. We chatted while waiting for nourishment, which surprisingly turned out to be a ham omelet, the Sunday special. Gregory is from Vancouver, but was born in Novia Scotia. He works for a college, but does not teach. We chatted a bit, he had never been to Budapest, though he would like to see it, and then he got up to pour juice and disappeared after that. The next I saw of him was when I was going back to the room after breakfast and he was starting down with his luggage. He had a flight out today. I gave him a card for our B and B like a good business man.

To save time today, I took the tram to the Central Station. I looked for the machines to buy tickets and using my cheat sheet that a Dutch guardian angel sent me, I was able to navigate the various buttons that I needed to press to buy my ticket to Leidenpeople behind me make me nervous, I was all set until I saw 13.90 Euros. This is how much the round trip ticket would be. I only had 9 Euros in coins and the machine did not take paper currency. I hit the cancel button, shoved

the notes in my pocket and slinked off to the line for purchasing a ticket from a human. I was warned that this would cost one Euro more for the privilege, but it was easier than getting more change and starting from the beginning. When the agent said it would be 13.90, there was an impulse to say not 14.90, but I held back.

Within five minutes of reaching the platform, the train arrived. When the conductor came for tickets, I handed it to him with more confidence than I did at the airport coming in. Amsterdam was chilly in the morning and the clouds were starting to pattern the blue sky, so I was concerned about what the weather was going to do. As the train was getting closer to Leiden, the clouds were darkening. The thought of chanting ‘Rain, rain, go away’ did pop through my mind, but could not remember its effective rate from when I was seven years old, plus it had not started to rain yet. That chant could actually be counter-productive at this juncture. Within 35 minutes, we were at Leiden Central Station, cloudy, but no rain yet.

A multitude of people told me that you buy the ticket for the bus and the entrance to Keukenhof from the driver; however, when I went to ask the driver for the ticket, he sent me to the ticket office outside. If you should go, when you come down the stairs from the train, turn right to exit the station by the front door. Turn right again and walk around and you will see a ticket office marked Connexxion. A combi-ticket for a round trip bus ride directly to the main gate of the gardens and the entrance is 17.00 Euro for adults, 14.40 for seniors and 9.00 for children from 4-11 years old.

The bus was filled to capacity with every seat filled and about two dozen people standing in the aisles. With a bus every 15 minutes, if one needed a seat, it is only a short wait for the next opportunity. By noon, I was at the Keukenhof gate and avoided the lines at the ticket counter with the combi-ticket. It is not at all what I had expected. In my mind, I had pictured an area of fields filled with flowers. This was so much more and more incredible than I could have

imagined. It was flower lovers paradise.

Keukenhof literally means kitchen garden. The land was once owned by a Dutch Duchess of the 15^th century. The area was used to grow herbs for her kitchen staff to use in cooking. It has been transformed over the centuries into acres of natural color and beauty. In 1857, an English landscape architect designed the gardens that are there today. In 1949, Dutch bulb growers were clever

enough to use these gardens to create a Spring Flower Exhibition. This is the 57^th year of this exhibition.

It is 32 hectares large.

The inside exhibition halls have a vast variety of flowers and plants. I was amazed to see azaleas, orchids, and an amazing assortment of other flowers. Although the tulips were not all out yet due to the weather, it was thrilling to see the vast varieties of daffodils, jonquils, crocus, hyacinths, and other flowers that are really my favorite breeds. There were some tulip varieties starting to blossom, and others were in the budding stage.

At one vista point, you can climb a hill to look out over a flower farm that was a showered in yellow, presumably daffodils since they were too far away to see. What I found fascinating was that the trails were covered in seashells, not gravel. Besides the billions of crushed seashell bits, there were still plenty of whole shells left intact to make the distinction in what was being crunched with each step taken.

As long as I have a camera and am allowed to use it, I am flying high with energy. The pictures were being snapped almost faster than the camera would allow. Certainly more than my knees would allow. I was up and down in a kneeling position so many time, I feared I would need to beg assistance from a stranger to stand upright after

some time. After an two hours of walking and shooting flowers, I walked toward a windmill on the grounds. Along side of it, a vendor was selling ham sandwiches. The aroma grabbed my attention immediately, so indulging was not a question. For 3 Euros, the sandwich on a soft roll was piled high with thinly sliced ham that was grilled. The young vendor asked if I would like some ‘special sauce’ on it. Of course, if it was special, put it on there. It was mouth wateringly delicious. I savored each bite as the ‘special sauce’ was truly so. In my earlier days, I would have indulged in a second sandwich just because it was so delectable.

The park has pavilions with flower exhibits, the history of bulb growing in the country, Dutch designs, areas for children to play on oversized playground equipment, and lots of restaurants and souvenir shops. Without a map, it would be easy to get lost or miss out on something spectacular. However, not being the map person, I trusted my instincts and it worked out well. There a numerous trails along lakes, ponds, and streams. There are plenty of sculptures as you wander interspersed with the flowers, so there is plenty to capture your attention yet pull you to discover the next display.

I really took time to smell the flowers having arrived at the gate at 11:45 and left the gate at 4:45 and 252 photos later. If I missed a hectare, I would be surprising. It was a shock that I had spent that much time there, but there is no better way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It was cold when the sun went hiding behind a cloud, but it felt refreshing at the same time. With the signs of spring bursting out all over, there was encouragement that warmer days still lay ahead of us yet.

The park is open until May 19^th this year. Since this is nature and not silk flowers, it has to coincide with the growing seasons. They open the gates at 8:00 am and stay open until 7:30 pm. The flowers you will find outdoors at the time of a visit will depend on the weather conditions at the time. The dates for 2007 are March 22^nd until May 20^th. To check the latest news, you can go to their website at http://www.keukenhof.nl/ .

When the bus dropped us off at the Leiden Central Station again, though tired, I could not leave without traipsing around the city a little while first. Heading into town, what really appealed to me was a good cup of coffee. The coffee at the gardens was a quick machine brew that fell short of being satisfying.

The city is quite charming, but being Sunday and not after 5:00 pm, there were not a tremendous amount of choices. I passed a few museums I would have liked to have visited like the Ethnographic Museum, but it was past their closing time. As well, the choices for coffee looked to be either too restaurantish or too ‘coffeeshopish’ serving more than just coffee. I was only in the mood for a caffeine high, thank you very much. After an hour of wandering, I gave in to my body’s pleading and went to catch a train. Leiden is definitely a city to return to at some point. It is lovely even when closed for the day.

If you are interested in seeing more flower pictures, send me an e-mail at ryan@budabab.com and I will send you the link for them.

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Saturday, April 08, 2006

Rain, Rain, Go Away

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The phone alarm was set for 9:00 am, but at 3 in the morning, the alert warning of an SMS pierced through the silence and my dreams. My immediate thought was that it could not be morning already, and it was not, just an SMS. It must have taken hours to reach me since it was from one of our booking agencies, yet they close at 11:00 pm. Delayed reaction in the phone service, I guess. In my sleep, I must have shut the alarm off in the process of reading the message, because it was off when I awoke at 10:15 this morning.

I felt like I was behind schedule, and then realized that I am on vacation and there is no schedule. I am alone and do not have to worry about anyone’s desires, but my own. Still I did not want to waste the day. I have this feeling that not being out in the city is a desecration of valuable time. The shower was uncooperative. There is a two dial system, one for water on and off, the other for hot water. The water went on fine, but there was no hot, just three degrees colder than iceberg. I could not force myself to the torture for more than two minutes, so my hair did not get washed.

Breakfast was similar to what we serve: coffee or tea, white and brown bread, three large slices of cheese, three of a lunch meat, peanut butter, and nutella. There were two Brits across from me, but they left shortly after I arrived, two women across and to the left of me, but they did not communicate except with each other. Two Americans wandered in and sat next to me, but were busy dishing two women they were traveling with, and one Brit single man on the end. Not much social intercourse happened outside of the established groups.

As circumstances would have it, rain was pouring down in buckets. The incentive for me to get out is to take pictures. However, when I have to consider juggling a camera and umbrella, my enthusiasm dwindles to nil. I took my time with breakfast, watched some news in my room, and headed out by 1:00. The sun was shining and it looked like it had never rained that morning.

Where to go, where to go, that was my decision for the morning. I had no idea. I

decided to try the number 14 tram line, but started to get impatient waiting for it to arrive, so I walked the line instead. After walking about three tram stops, I decided it was not worth continuing. The outlook for something interesting was not promising. I turned back and went to Hard Rock Café to buy some pins. Walking the streets beyond the hotel, I found some interesting buildings. Since I love the architecture here, I was able to snap some shots.

I walked through the flower market and took some pics of the flowers for sale. This was insurance if I do not see what I hope at the tulip growing area. The water on the cellophane was either from the rain or they were freshly sprayed for freshness. Some of the colors are amazing.

From here it was on down to the Dam, where the Royal Palace is located toward the Central Station. As I approached the Dam, there was a demonstration in process. There was a woman giving a speech on two huge screens projecting her image from the stage. There were red and white balloons floating in the air, with words that escaped

my understanding. As I was snapping pictures, a young man offered me a paper, but I said I could not read it. Then I questioned him about the purpose of what was happening. He explained it was a demonstration about illegal rent increases. When I responded that I thought it might have been something about the immigration issues, he smiled and said “Not this time.”

I walked to the Central Station and then was going to walk around it, but there is a highway there. I was in search of a coffee shop that my friend Earl and I found when he and I were here. I was turned around for a minute, but then realized where I needed to turn. It was about 45 minutes of walking that I found the coffee shop. It was filled with people and there was not a seat to be had. I kept walking for another 30 minutes before turning back to try again for a seat. When I returned, there were a few seats available. I had a picture of this coffee shop from the last time. They have one wall with built in containers of rainbow colors along the wall, each filled with coffee beans.

On the table, there was a flower arrangement. One of the lilies in the vase was just above my eye view, so the pollen falling out was obvious. It seemed like such an interesting shot to be called “Spilling the seed”. I took a couple of shots of it hoping one would turn out since it was such a close up. Then as I was looking up, I noticed the lily in bloom along side of a branch of a plant just getting ready to bud, seemed so significant that it needed to be photographed also.

From here I went to the Magna Shopping Center. The building looks like a royal building, so I am curious of its history. It is a splendid building and the last time I was

in it was with Ron is 2001 when St. Nicholas was holding court for the children. Even without the Christmas décor, it is a magnificent building to spend some time in. A constant battle was playing out in my head. One side was saying well, you are not doing anything important, so why not go back to the hotel and read. The other side argued that the sun was shining, the air was clean, stay out and enjoy it. So, I walked, looked, and wandered down streets I had never explored, went into stores never ventured into, and checked out the urban shopping centers. It seems that you can learn much about a culture from their shopping centers. The architecture is usually unique, but also the stores that are housed in the center give the curious mind just how far globalization has spread. It pleased me that in these centers uncovered today, there were no stores that could be labeled American.

Thus far, my transportation pass has been more of an insurance policy than a useful tool. It has lived in my jacket pocket all day today, not once getting a chance to be displayed. For 9.30 Euros for 72 hours, it is not a great waste.

One discovery that was unexpected, especially for me was a church. Amongst the urban jungle of shops, full scale stores, and shopping centers, there is a Roman Catholic Church. I know I have passed by it dozens of times in past visits, not to mention the current one, but it has never called out to me before. Perhaps this is the first time the doors were open, I do not know, but I went in. As churches go, it is not outstandingly beautiful inside. It is rather plain and the statues look like cheap quality reproductions. The sign said that the renovations have just been completed, but the organ is still silenced, please donate to give it sound once again.

As I walked to the front, I found it curious that half of the church was filled with pews, while the rest has chairs toward the front. What really caught my eye was the stained glass on the left altar window. The colors sung out and I heard their call. Stained glass and mosaics always interest me. The altar was beautifully carved, but again there was nothing else to make this church distinguishable. Then I noticed a large board with note up toward the statues of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. The English explanation was that during the reformation, Holland followed and Catholicism was illegal. On the space where the church is currently, was a house where Catholics met clandestinely to worship. The only identifying fact was a street tile in front with a parrot on the tile. Hence, this church is named the Church of the Parrot and there is a parrot hanging in the back of the church.

On the way back to the hotel, the thought of fulfilling Ron’s wish of having an order of French fries with curry sauce, ran through my mind, so I went to my favorite place for them. Okay, check! That is done. Whew, what responsibilities are involved when traveling.

At 6:00, one side of me won the battle and returned all of me to the hotel for some reading and a nap. I conquered the hot water and had a long shower when I woke. Now it is 9:50 pm and I have yet to eat dinner. I was tempted to return to the Chinese all you can eat in one hour place that Ron and I ate at in 2001. It is still here and still you only get one hour to chow down, but at this late hour, they most likely are closed. There are a number of places with sandwiches and slices of pizza, so I will grab something. What has been interesting for me to observe about myself it that there are a number of places where normally I would love to stop to sample food, like the bagel shops. It seems that each time I come across one of these types of establishments, I question whether or not I am hungry, realize that I am not, and then move on. My only sampling today was an apple pastry in a cheese shop. Now I am hungry.

The plan for tomorrow is to find the tulips outside of Leiden.

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Friday, April 07, 2006

Amsterdam, My Beloved City

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Off to Amsterdam, I had to get up at 3:30 a.m. this morning to be ready for the airport shuttle at 4:30. By the time I had showered and finished gathering last minute things, there was no time for coffee, let alone breakfast. Ron irritated me first thing by not getting up like he said he would. I thought coffee would be waiting for me and he would be up to see me off. I went to grab my carry-on from the bedroom and forget it was not zipped. The whole thing emptied on the floor. With swear words in whispers, since there is a guest in the other room, I flung the lights on not caring if it disturbed Ron’s sleep or not. After all, he had promised to be up with me. I refilled the case and I was out the door.

The shuttle came, but was five minutes late, unusual for them, so I was getting nervous even with time to spare. When we arrived at the airport, I still had time for two cigarettes and a coffee, before going through security and Customs. My ticket and the agent stated I was number 47 to board. However, it is a cattle call to climb aboard a bus to get to the plane, so what difference did it make that I had a number?

I was able to be one of the first ones on the plane, so I was able to get a front seat on the aisle. It was fairly full and two young people chose the seats next to me. Wizz Air is not bad. They left on time, the seats are leather fronts, and there is sufficient legroom to stretch a bit. The flight was only one hour and 40 minutes.

There were only two lines at Customs open: EU passports and all others. The ‘all others’ line was moving fast, with people getting through within thirty seconds. It did not immediately occur to me that there was a black man ahead of me. He was with a white woman who zipped on through. I knew he would be delayed. It literally took him seven minutes to get through. The agent looked at every page of his passport, which I seem to think was a German passport, then looked at the photo page, and thumbed through again. I was embarrassed for this young man and wondered how often he has to be subjected to this scenario. When my turn came, even with a U.S. passport, it took a good three minutes for me to get through.

It seemed like forever for the luggage to arrive, but finally I was able to grab my bag. I found the ticket machines to buy the train ticket to the Central Station. There was a line. I thought they were slow, until it was my turn. The sign next to the machine said the ticket was 3.90 Euros. I had the exact change, which did not do me any good. The machine only took cards. It refused my Mastercard twice, so I gave up and left in search of others. I found a ticket office, but was warned they charge an extra Euro for using a person. To the left were more machines. One of them took cash, so I tried it. As you go through the choices buttons light up and you choose one option. When the class was lit, only the 1^st class button lit up. I thought there were no choices since 2^nd class was dark. I hit 1^st, put in my 3.90 and then there was another choice. I hit one, since there was no English translation, I had to take a guess. There were a bunch of young guys behind me getting rowdy and in English with an Aussie accent, said “Just choose one, mate.” I did as commanded. My ticket appeared and I went to the train.

Although I had a 1^st class ticket, I was sitting in 2^nd class. I did not care, it was only two stops and I was charged being in the country again. The conductor came around first thing and I handed him my ticket. He said ‘Thank you’ and then something in Dutch. When he realized I did not understand, he said “English?” He asked if I had a discount card. When I said that I did not, he showed me on the ticket where I had bought a discounted ticket. I explained what happened and he very nicely told me that I could pay him the balance of 5 Euros and a 37 Euro fine. When my face turned red, I could feel the heat rising from my toes, he said he would let me get off at the next station, but I would have to buy another ticket. I chose that option.

On the ground floor of the station, there is a store that sells tickets. I went and purchased another ticket for 2.10 Euro and .50 Euro cents handling charge. Okay, not too bad considering I did not have to spend 37 Euros for a fine. I only had to wait 15 minutes for the next train; the sun was shining in spite of the prediction for rain, so my mood was still upbeat.

When I arrived at the station, I immediately went to the transportation office to buy my 72 hour transit pass. From the outside it looked empty, but when I entered, it was full of people. I took my number 245 and looked up to see they were

helping 222. It would be awhile, but I am in Amsterdam. Who cares? It was relatively quick and I was walking out with my transit ticket in hand. Wanting to feel the city again, I walked half way to the hotel, the Golden Bear www.goldenbear.nl . I knew my way since I had stayed at the same place two years ago. Half way there, I hopped on a tram and my ticket was validated. The clock is ticking. When I arrived at the hotel at 11:00, I was checked in, but my room would not be ready until 1:00. They gave me a 10% discount due to our B and B connections. I left my things and took off walking.

It seemed like I had walked for a half a dozen hours, but when I looked at my watch, it had only been one hour. Still another hour to go before I could check in and take a nap, the question was whether or not I really wanted to. Being here is so uplifting, though like everywhere else it seems, the stores and shops that I had once been used to are now different names and merchandise with only some staying the same.

At 1:01, I did check into my room, on the second floor. It would not be so bad, but the Dutch build up, not out due to tax laws hundreds of years ago. Therefore, the steps are short, steep, and curvy. They seem to be made for someone with feet like a cat, the balance of a gazelle, and the fortitude of a mountain goat. My room is larger than expected with a double bed, closet, sink, and desk with a TV and DVD player. I share the shower and WC with one other room only and it is just across a small hallway.

After a two hour nap, I was out again walking. I cannot believe how much walking I am doing with a transportation pass in my pocket, but it feels good. I went down to Rembrandtplein where I had noticed life size statues of The Night Watch. I went back with my camera this time getting there before mobs surrounded statues posing. It was done by two Russian artists on their own, without a commission for the work. It took them six years to complete it. There is also a large statue of Rembrandt behind them that I do not remember seeing on previous trips here.

Walking another six blocks, I jumped on the number 4 tram to see where it would go in the direction opposite the train station. When I arrived in a residential district, I got off again and hopped one in the other direction. I took it to the station, went to see if the tourist office was still open, but it was not. I went to St. Nicholas Church and went in since the gate and front door were open, but the door to the church was closed. It is a Roman Catholic Church with masses in Dutch, Latin, and Spanish. This is the St. Nick of Santa Claus fame.

Hours of walking around later, I headed back to the hotel, but stopped at a coffee shop close by a la Starbucks. I sat in the window and took some pictures of interesting people as they walked by. Then I went back to the hotel, dropped off the camera and went to dinner at 9:00. I had noticed a restaurant close-by that had an all you can eat special on ribs. Loving ribs as I do, I could not pass that up. Thus far, my day’s sustenance had been fries with peanut sauce and a latte coffee. I was due for some food.

As I entered the restaurant, there was a young man by himself seated near the door. He had a large glass in front of him like is used to serve fancy coffee drinks. He still had his hat and coat on. When his phone rang, I could identify him as a Southerner from the U.S. He told the person on the other end that he was getting something to eat and would meet ‘them’ at the place they were staying. Food orders were coming out for other guests, but he still had none. After about twenty minutes, he got up and headed out the door. The waitress told two of the guys who went chasing after him. While he was gone, the waitress had cleared his table, which would turn out to be a mistake. The young man returned and sat down again, but not quietly. He kept insisting he ordered a steak, but never received it. The waitress insisted he had never ordered a steak, but had ordered and received an Irish coffee. He swore he never ordered, received or drank any type of coffee, but only a steak. They went back and forth. I was tempted to jump in since I did see the glass, but thought better of it. He finally dropped a five Euro note down and walked out. He did look like he had partaken of goodies at some of the ‘coffee shops’ that serve more than coffee.

When my ribs arrived, there were two huge racks. I did not know any animal could have that many ribs connected, but they were good. The Dutch love their mayonnaise. That was the dressing for the salad and also the topper for the fries. After the first plate of ribs, I had had it. I could not order any more. I did have to rush back to floss my teeth though; I hate that feeling of needing major toothpick excavations. It started to sprinkle on the way back, but the day was almost perfect other wise.