Hallelujah

I'm floating right now, and grinning like an idiot.

Work was wonderful--a lot of good progress, and I'm feeling more confident about the job. My coworkers are fantastic. Martijn bought me lunch today and we spent about an hour joking around as we ate with Matthias, a musician from Vienna who works in research. It was one of the first moments in a little while that hasn't been entirely about the mundane details of life.

I walked home through the rain, smiling, and got home to find I had money in my bank account. I've been listening to good music, watching episodes of scrubs.

And I talked to Lindsay. One of the most amazing conversations I've had in...almost ever. I miss you like crazy, darling.

Rough Edges

Another frustrating morning. Walked all the way down to town hall (I timed it--it's a 35 minute walk), got there early, waited for it to open, checked in for my appointment, my number was called...and it turns out there's a whole stack of forms to fill out, and I'd forgotten my passport, and my birth certificate isn't official enough--it's missing some stamp on an attached page? and a residency permit costs 433 euros (which Ineke didn't mention, nor did she mention the paperwork). So I walked down there to be looked at like I was an idiot, handed lots of paperwork, and sent on my way. To walk four km back home. The earliest appointment they have for me to come back is next Friday, which means I have to reschedule my appointment at the tax office, and I won't get my bank account here opened till God knows when...

I am so, so unbelievably frustrated. All I want is a hug--I'm alone, starved for human contact. I don't make friends easily, and I miss all the ones I've left behind.

Now it's off to work to stare at code and will myself to focus. I'm hungry.

Nee. No Visa.

Today has been such a rollercoaster ride.

I woke up before my alarm went off, dragged myself out of bed, checked my email, talked to Lindsay for a while, and went to take a shower.

There must be some trick to the hot water I'm just not getting. I go in to wash my hands and its warm and steamy from one of my housemates' showers, and the water is warm, but every time I go to shower the water just won't heat up. It's frustrating, to say the least, and I haven't managed to pin down a housemate to ask yet.

By the time i left, I was running late and stressed out. I'd built extra time in my schedule to get to work, because I had no idea where I was going. Turns out work is less than a fifteen minute walk from home, so I was early. That was a pleasant surprise. The receptionist issued me a visitor's badge, and Ineke came and got me.

Less than an hour later, my backpack was full of signed contracts, HR binders, and guides to being an expat in the Netherlands. I had an appointment to register as a resident at town hall, an appointment to get the Dutch equivalent of a social security number, and the name of a bank that cuts Philips employees deals on accounts.

I met Jos, my boss. I met Martijn, the software architect I'm working with and talked through the project, started playing with preliminary coding work. This week is mostly to get settled, get everything worked out. I got my official badge printed--in the photo I'm half-smiling (it's actually one of the better pictures of me ever taken). I knocked off at lunchtime, came home, talked to Lindsay for well over an hour and headed out to get a bike and go to the housing rental agency. On the way home, I walked through the park (hence the photo). The sun was shining, there was a spring in my step...life was wonderful. Everything was coming together. I'm living here and starting to feel like I belong.

I couldn't figure out how to get into the damned bike shop. I think now I was pulling a puch-only door, but the only door I could find was around back and opaque, and I couldn't even tell if the place was open (even though their hours said they were) and...all in all it was frustrating. Eventually, I decided the 2 km from the bike shop to Rots-Vast wasn't too far, and walked it. I was a little late, but it wasn't too big a deal.

Wandered around downtown a bit. Parts of it are absolutely gorgeously picturesque--Europe is like no place else. There are maybe three skyscrapers, and the rest of the buildings are beautiful and old and brick. I'm starting to understand some Dutch already, especially written. Then it was time to walk home, and boy did I regret not having tried harder to get my hands on a bike. I was four and a half kilometers from home, and my feet started hurting about halfway there.

I came across a supermarket and decided to finally buy food. I planned out a whole meal for tonight--pasta with tomatoes and basil. I had yogurt for breakfasts, juice, mineral water...and then I got to the checkout and my card wouldn't run and the checker looked at it, shook her head at me, and said "Nee. No Visa." Turns out the company credit card was a great idea, but in practice, in a non-touristy town like Eindhoven, Visa isn't widely accepted. It's all Pin. So I'm stuck without money (I spent the last of my cash paying rent today--I should have insisted on using my card despite the 5.5% surcharge. There's no money in my account in the States. I have a slice of pizza and less than a euro to my name.

I trudged the rest of the way home, muttering curse words under my breath and trying to figure out how on earth I was going to survive the next week. Ugh. It's a setback, but I'll pull through somehow. I have a job, I can walk to town hall tomorrow to register as a resident (lord my feet are going to be sore...) and with any luck I'll be able to buy some food once Dad deposits some money in my account. I just need to scrape together enough for living expenses, eat a big lunch at Philips every day...it'll all work out.

Not Quite a Social Leper

That was fabulous.

Turns out some restaurants open for dinner on Sundays. As I was walking down Bennekelstraat I noticed one that had caught my eye earlier--Shoarma Ramses, a kebab/pizza place--was open. So I wandered in, looked over the menu. They had the meat roasting behind the counter, right next to a fancy pizza oven. I didn't see falafel on the menu, so I went for Pizza Margherita. Turns out Dutch Egyptians really know how to make pizza--nice and cripsy, with plenty of cheese and basil. I ate my pizza, read, and eventually got talking with one of the guys who runs the place. He wanted to know where I was from, why I was in Eindhoven, etc. I'm not used to being exotic, interesting, a topic of conversation. So we talked for a while, and I paid my bill, and taught him how to pronounce my name, and he packed up my pizza, gave me a menu, and told me to come back. Wished me luck on my first day of work.

Everything looks so much brighter when I've eaten well. I've even got pizza in the fidge for breakfast, so I can throw out my crazy plan to wake up early enough to walk to the store before work. I walked home from dinner grinning like a lunatic, feeling like I really belonged here (for a little while at least) and generally at peace with the world.

I can do this. I really can.

Zondag: Gesloten

It's easy to forget, coming from the States, that there's such a thing as closed on Sunday. Sure, back home, both the corner store and the around-the-corner store are closed Sundays, but they're the exception, not the rule. Here, it turns out, everything is closed on Sunday, at least in the area of shops near my house. Everything, that is, except an ice cream shop and a little diner-type place where the guy speaks very little English but I still managed to order my food--seems I've come across the ocean to eat fries and drink coke. The shops are a kilometer or so from here--down Locatellistraat to Bennekelstraat. I'm most excited about the fact that there are two middle eastern markets--there's a huge immigrant population in this area. Now when I get homesick I'll have access to all the ingredients for childhood comfort foods.

I'm not sure when I'll manage to actually buy food, as I have to be at work at nine tomorrow. After I get off, I guess. I also have no idea how I'm getting to the housing office tomorrow to sign my contract...I'll just have to talk to Ineke about that tomorrow morning. I don't know how much of the first day is going to be finding my way around, arranging things, and meeting people, and how much is going to be talking with Martijn and getting to work on the project.

Locatellistraat is a narrow street of brick row houses. Number 26 (that's it in the picture) is a corner house, so we have more windows, but other than that it's unremarkable. This whole neighborhood is gorgeous--the streets are like Locatellistraat but with houses on both sides, and most of the tiny front yards have been turned into gardens. Here and there are beautiful parks, not as manicured as most American parks but a little wild, with undergrowth and towering trees. The flowers are in full bloom, adding color to the green that seems to be everywhere I look.

I'm happy. I'm really and truly happy here.
(A few hours ago I missed you so much it hurt, but now I'm okay.)

A First View of the Dutch Sun

The sky is clearing and I'm seeing sun for the first time. Slept for fifteen hours, including right through the alarm I'd set to make myself get up and find food. I haven't eaten in about twenty-four hours--I'm thinking it's time to fix that situation. Woke up at 6:45 or so and have spent the time since then fooling around on the internet and talking to Lindsay. I really have nothing much to do till work tomorrow--maybe try to find a bike, buy food, work on my incomplete. Finish unpacking my stuff. Check if there's laundry detergent downstairs or if I should buy some while I'm out. Maybe get coffee and sit outside reading a book. Take a shower.

Even the mundane seems exciting here. Grocery shopping? An adventure!

(I'm still nervous about getting around and buying things, even though everyone I've met thus far speaks English--I feel unbelievably guilty being the foreigner counting on everyone being able to communicate with me. I hate living in a country and not speaking the language. It's like I don't deserve to be here because I haven't made the effort to at least try to learn Dutch.)

There She Goes

I'm here.

The plane ride was uneventful. Spent it journaling (I've taken up the paper journal again), reading trashy magazines, and knitting, interspersed with passing out from exhaustion. Twenty-four solid hours in transit after not sleeping one night and barely sleeping the night before has me almost to the point of hallucination. Almost no caffeine to pull me through, either. Passport control at Schiphol took forever, causing me to miss the train I'd intended to take, and when I finally got through and tried to buy my train ticket the machine kept prompting me for a pin before it would try to authorize my credit card. I figured out later what I was doing wrong, but at the time it was unbelievably frustrating. The good thing is that the Dutch train system is ridiculously well designed and labelled. By the time I'd waited in line at the ticket window and purchased my ticket with cash, I had three minutes to catch the next train to Eindhoven. At my connection in Duivendrecht I swallowed my fear of telephones and talking to strangers and, in the two minutes I had between trains, called my landlord (Carel) to tell him the new time I'd be arriving.

The Netherlands is beautiful. Obviously no earthquakes here, because absolutely everything, new or old, is made of brick. Brick and wrought iron. Fire escapes are spirals and those picturesque windmills really do exist (and still turn). All the train stations are obviously old, and absolutely gorgeous. The streets are narrow and cars are parked every which way, like in Italy.

It's raining here--gorgeous.

The house is cute and tiny and brick, right next to the campus so I can easily walk to work. Three stories with incredibly steep, winding staircases (my feet are too large--I've already nearly fallen down the stairs twice). The only housemate I've met so far is Lise, who has the room at the top of the house. The other three are boys.


The view down Locatellistraat from my window. The campus is basically right on the other side of that grassy stretch.


The back yard, as seen from my other window. Carel and his wife live in the other house.


It's been a long time since I slept. I'm going to crash for a few hours, then explore the neighborhood and buy some food.

Paranoia, Panic, and New Beginnings

I didn't, in fact, end up going back to Italy. The funding fell through, so, after several sad emails, I started looking for another job.

Which is why I'm sitting in the Cincinnati airport waiting to catch a flight to Amsterdam, wherefrom I will catch a train to Eindhoven. My landlord is picking me up at the station, giving me my keys, and taking me to the house.

I'm terrible at making decisions and following through. About eight times on the flight here I thought about the fact that I could technically use my company credit card to buy a plane ticket home. The thing is, once I get somewhere I adapt so quickly and easily. Wherever I am becomes my whole life in no tome at all. Maybe that's why I'm scraed--I've reached a reasonably good point in my life and it scares me to let that go. I'm simultaneously so unbelievably excited for this summer--I love being alone and independent, I love managing things on my own, finding my way through foreign train stations, etc. I love it.
(I'm terrified of the thing I most love. Must be crazy...)

On the way out of San Francisco I kept my face pressed to the window, watching the familiar landmarks go by. We flew right over campus and I could see the campanile, Evans and every other building I've had classes in, and CZ. I got all choked up when I recognized the campus, and started searching desperately for the roof of my house. I wanted one last look before I was gone. I wanted to call home and say I see you! I'm less than a mile up and I miss you already.

You know, I have to admit: after this semester, it's going to be nice to have a fresh start.

I guess the deal is that if I could take a few choice people with me, I'd go without looking back. I think I get too attached.