Wow. 

My blog is blocked in China.  I’m not sure whether to feel flattered or outraged. Click below to check if a site is banned:

http://www.greatfirewallofchina.org/test/

“It is estimated that some 30,000 Chinese civil servants are monitoring Internet traffic and blocking content that is deemed undesirable. Typing in sensitive keywords such as ‘democracy’, ‘Falun Gong’ or ‘porno’ in a search engine results in an error message. Websites of a sensitive nature are being blocked. Internet service providers also (self)censor, as do individuals: many people do not express their real thoughts because they know these will be censored anyway.”

10 weeks

13 weeks

 16 weeks

Imagine your worst hangover ever. 

I’m talking the morning after a bottle of wine, 5 vodkas and more tequila shots than you can remember. You drank so much you can barely remember how you got home. Imagine waking up with the room spinning, your head thumping and feeling so nauseated you want to die. Any sudden movement results in projectile vomiting. Getting out of bed is impossible. Lying in bed is unbearable. 

That’s what it’s like being pregnant. From week 6 to 13 I struggled through every day. Now, at week 16, it’s finally starting to lift and I almost feel human again.   

Creating life is hard work.  

I’ve never enjoyed the Queen’s Day celebrations.  It’s sold as the biggest party of the year but has always left me cold.  There are massive flea markets, lots of beer, a sea of partygoers clad in orange and bands playing throughout the city.  It sounds great on paper but in reality it’s so crowded you can’t move, the stuff people sell is absolute crap and people are even more anti-social and obnoxious than usual.

This year we decided to sell our junk with Bas and Miranda.  With upcoming events we have to make some space so I said goodbye to a hundred books and other random bits and pieces.  We were well prepared.  The area where you can sell is small so in the lead up there were many heated arguments as people ‘claimed’ stall space.  We had anticipated this and brought out the deck chairs at lunch time to mind our spot.  By 7pm the streets were flooded with people.  It was a nice change to be comfortable behind a stall and not wandering around aimlessly in the crowd.  We made 400 Euro but it bore a heavy price.  People haggled shamelessly and meanly.  Well most people did.  You see I made an exciting discovery on Queen’s Day that not all Dutch people can be painted with the same harsh brush I use so often.     

The first group of Dutchies won’t come as a surprise to you.  The stomped over the stall, dismissively and impatiently flipped past Faulks, Coetzee and Munro until they reached Johan Cruijff’s autobiography (Jarno’s of course) or a Dutch culture book.  I watched the outrage spread over their faces as they saw the 1 euro stickers.  This was followed by some almost comical scoffing, eye rolling and ended with a fishmonger wife screech “That’s way too expensive, do you think I’m crazy? I’ll give you 10 cents”  

Several more appropriate adjectives came to mind. 

I wasn’t shocked.  I know these people intimately.  I expected them.  They just provided additional confirmation to my generalization that Dutch people are rude, insensitive, selfish and one dimensional.   

The other group I didn’t expect.  They walked in small groups or couples.  They wore stylish and funky clothes, spoke quietly and moved gracefully.  They made comments like, “I love your taste in authors” or “Only 3 euros? But this is a classic!”  We discussed redemption, satire, depth and darkness.  I felt locked doors open in my brain as I finally connected with Dutch people who understood and appreciated subtlety, people who were eloquent and gracious.   

It left me humbled. Humbled because I let the resentment I feel over the way Jarno’s friends and family treated me poison me against almost all Dutch people.  I closed my mind to the possibility that I could find like minded, warm people here. 

In effect, I built this island.  

Yet it also left me frustrated.  Could I really have been so blind?  Who are these people?  Where were they 5 years ago?  Why do our paths never cross?    I guess they are an endangered species, very difficult to find.