BLOG

The cross on the mountain top

Wed, 18 Aug 2010 09:34:49 +0200

A nasty, windy and rainy day in Austria.
Being cooped up in the tent was getting on our nerves, mine the first, I have to admit.
What to do? We swam every square inch of the pool, shopped at every shop in town, had every drink, played all the games in the box ...
Up, I said, let’s go up, beyond the clouds and rain. Never know what we might find!
Nooooo, Sam and Kai responded in unison ... Why not? I asked. All kinds of children’s reasoning came as a response ... too tired, rain, cold, hungry, you name it, they said it.
We still went out, took a cable car to 2000m, up into the clouds and beyond, and found this cross, on the windy, misty and cold mountain top. Made us stand still and think, and shiver ...
And then down, back to the village. A 3 hour descent, and I never heard a peep. Just Sam and Kai telling me stories, wild rushes of their imagination, peppered with real life experiences and shared memories ...
The best three hours of my life.

Of cats and mice, and the nature of choice

Tue, 22 Jun 2010 22:50:01 +0200

A cat meets a mouse.
Forgetting that cats eat mice, the cat says 'Let's play'.
The mouse, forgetting that cats eat mice, says 'Great, let's play!'
They play, all day long, and have great fun until the sun sets and they have to go home
Arriving home, the mouse tells his mother 'I played with a cat all day, and had so much fun!'
His mother has a heart attack and cries 'Oh my baby, have you forgotten that cats eat mice?'
The cat comes home and tells his mother 'I had so much fun today, playing with a mouse!'
His mother growls 'Oh no, you dumb ass, have you forgotten that cats eat mice?'
The night passes, and a day passes, and another night passes
The cat and mouse meet again
The cat says, 'Hi there, mouse, wanna play?'
The mouse hesitates, and says 'But my mom told me cats eat mice!'
The cat says 'Yeah, my mom told me the same. What do they know! Let's play!'

Winter games

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 18:38:50 +0100

Yesterday we bought an old-fashioned sled. It had snowed for two days in a row, and the world around our home-town was covered in a white blanket one foot thick.

The thing with snow and sleds is that the combination is really a lot of fun, and brings out the child in us, provided there is a hill long and steep enough to make the ride worthwhile. Holland is a flat country.

In ages past, glaciers covered what is now the province of our home-town, pushing earth and rocks to form gently sloping hills. That's where we were headed, out into what we call the hill-ridge. On a sideline, there is, I think, a kind of poetic symmetry to the ancient glaciers and our quest for a hill to go play in the snow.

I normally have a good memory for places, but it left me in this case. We drove out into the forest to where I thought there might be a suitable incline, and found ourselves trudging through a foot of fresh snow, with no hills in sight.

That did not prevent us from having a lot of fun though. Being out there in that winter wonderland soon found us in the middle of a snow fight, first amongst ourselves, but soon it was the snow covered trees against the three of us.

Serves us right, standing under a snow laden fir tree and kicking its trunk ...

We slept like babies that night.

The list of the one thing I love

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 23:22:48 +0100

One thing I love is peace, and diving, no that's two things, okay I love peace and diving. And I love friends ... peace, diving and friends, that's what I love. And good food, shared with friends, in peace, after diving. And a nice drink after the good food, sitting outside in the sunshine, looking at the beautiful countryside, with my friends of course.

Woodsmoke, from a fireplace, whilst sitting outside with my friends in peace enjoying a drink in the evening sunshine ... yeap, that's what I love. Okay, so one thing I love is all of the above ... and listening to good music, with my two sons sitting besides me, laughing, listening to them telling me stories of their days at school. And my friends telling me stories about their lives, my parents telling me stories from before I was born, friends listening to stories from our lives, sitting outside watching the setting sun ... and the nice drink, that is what I love, and the taste of the good food we ate, and the memories of the good times we are having.

I love all of this, and more, but that's for another time.

Bird

Tue, 9 Jun 2009 12:27:21 +0200

Coming home late from work, the air feels like a big rainstorm has just passed. Water is dripping off trees, puddles are everywhere, and there is this fresh, clear smell in the air. The sun, however, is shining through gaps in the clouds, making everything sparkle around me.

I must admit to some surprise, as I had no idea it had rained so hard. On the train on my way home, I must have been engrossed in my book and my music, completely shutting out the outside world ... oh well.

Looking out of my living room window at the tree in front of my house, I notice a little bird, sitting on one of the dripping branches. It looks like a really young bird, just out of the egg. It sits very still, head hidden in its feathers.

As I take my camera, the sun comes back out again, and shines on the tree, and the little bird, waking it up. I take the shot, and the bird ruffles its feathers, looks around and flies off.

It didn’t rain again that evening, and the bird didn’t come back.

Paaswake

Sat, 11 Apr 2009 10:14:53 +0200

Its Easter Saturday. The boys and I are having dinner early, because we have to be on time for the Easter service in the local cathedral near my house. The church is only three blocks away, but on crutches this might be a little far. I don’t feel like calling a taxi though.

We arrive on time, and there is still space in the church, enough for me to be able to put my leg on the bench. The walk was a little exhausting, and I have to catch my breath, not something I like to admit to lightly ;)

Upon entering the church, we all get a candle to hold during the service. At 9 sharp, the lights go out in the church, and a hush comes over he crowd. The Easter fire gets lighted at entrance, and the service starts. Prayers are being red and the Easter candle is lighted. Church officials, amongst whom is the Archbishop of Utrecht, are walking the Easter candle into the church, and at the altar people light their candle from the light of the Easter candle. Their candles lit, they pass on the light through the congregation. The whole church slowly and gradually lights up, its a beautiful and calming sight.

Sam and Kai are full of wonder, absorbing everything that happens, even though its getting late for them. They listen intently to the stories being told, Sam even sings and reads the prayers from the booklet that was handed to us.

After about an hour, the boys get restless with sleep. Kai is already lying on my lap, eyes closing. I would have liked to stay, but my boys need sleep too, and this first exposure to a catholic service has made its impression.

I’m tired too, and we walk home, slowly. On the way, we sit down on a bench on one of the bridges of the canals in my home town. Sam and Kai are talking about the service. They seem to have liked it, and I am smiling.

X-Ray

Thu, 2 Apr 2009 19:06:50 +0200

I’m back at my hotel room in the lovely town of Nyon, on lake Geneva in Switzerland, lying on my bed and giving my injured foot a rest.

I am up at 6 this morning for a nice and invigorating run along the lake with Patty, when I jump a gap and ... well my left foot does not land exactly nicely. I hear a loud snap and feel pain shooting through my leg. ‘This is not good’ I say. My ankle hurts. I think its torn or strained, and limp back to the hotel.

I shower, get dressed, have a little breakfast and decide to take a taxi to the train station to take me to Geneva, where we have biannual aviation industry meetings. At the meeting I get crutches from a colleague. Apparently there are more people with leg injuries in the industry.

During the morning the pain gets worse. The short walk to lunch takes all the energy I have. My friends suspect my foot is broken. I think not, but who am I? After lunch I decide to go see a doctor.

Andrew is so kind to take me back to Nyon. He has some experience with the medical profession in this little lakeside town. And its close to the hotel, so I can get back on my own.

In the small medical facility I am very promptly helped. I love Swiss efficiency! The doctor asks what I’ve been up to and examines my foot. Then he orders x-rays to be taken. After some awkward contortionist exercises on the x-ray table I get the bad news: my ankle is broken, and by the face of the doctor, its bad.

Strangely, I’m not shocked at the news, neither am I worried about anything. I feel a sense of acceptance coming over me. This is one of life’s lessons, I’d better pay attention.

The medical staff puts a temporary cast on my leg, applied by two friendly assistants that keep joking with me and each other. Apparently ‘all the scissors in Nyon are blunt’ they say. The doctor comes to check on me, ordering two nasty injections of anti-coagulant in my stomach. I hate syringes and don’t want people to stick needles in me, argh.

Before he leaves, the doctor looks at me and tell me the break is not good, but not too bad either. Doctors!

So, I’m sitting on my bed in my hotel room, looking at the x-rays, not understanding what I see. The pain is not too bad, and my friends are taking really good care of me.

Although painful, and a nuisance in mobility for a while, I think I will somehow enjoy this lesson. How else can I explain the smile on my face?

Muffins

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 18:36:11 +0100

Kai is excited, because today is his birthday. The evening before, he had wanted to help me bake muffins or ‘ little cakes’ as he calls them, 36 to be precise, to pass around at school.

His instructions were quite specific: Little cakes, with topping and m&m’s on top, and a little cocktail umbrella. I did the shopping, and added some stuff to bake a caramel apple pie too. Of course I couldn’t find the little cocktail umbrella’s, and shops were closing. There’s always something. Fortunately I had a bunch of little cocktail flags in the house. It didn’t take much convincing for Kai to accept these.

I’m starting work on the muffins, I called out after I had put the apple pie into the oven. I’m playing, Kai called back, I’ll help in a minute. A minute became ten, half an hour ,,, despite my going into the living room repeatedly to tell Kai we really should start on the little cakes. I’m pouring the flour now ... yeap, I’ll be there in a minute. All in all, it took me more than an hour to get the pastry going. And by that time, dinnertime had arrived.

Evening time in my house is just like every house on the planet: chaotic, no time for anything else until the kids are in bed. So the muffins had to wait.

Because my oven is so small, I had to bake the muffins in small batches, taking more time. By midnight, the last batch was done, as was I. I keeled over into bed and fell asleep instantaneously.

March 16, 6am. I wake up and start decorating the house, balloons, wrappers around Kai’s chair, nice napkins, and then I wake up Kai, who jumps out of bed. I barely have a moment to kiss him and wish him a happy birthday. He storms downstairs, Sam following in his footsteps, racing into the living room and attacking his presents ... kids!

Kai, we still have to decorate the muffins before we go to school! Kai helps out, finally, sticking m&m’s onto the topping, and putting little flags into the spongy muffins.

The bike ride to school was a challenge, with a large tray of muffins in one hand, and the other hand on the steering wheel and brake. At school, Kai’s friends are all exited about his birthday and flock around the tray with goodies. Kai has a big smile on his face. So have I. My hands still hurt and I’m already exhausted, but this is what we do for our children ... take care of them and smile.

Lisboa

Wed, 25 Feb 2009 23:01:42 +0100

Stretching our legs after a long and interesting day of exchanging professional experiences and ideas, we are out to see the town of Lisbon, or Lisboa in Portuguese. Some of us are looking to buy stuff, most of us are looking to sit down with a beer. We are a group of new friends going into town, and have to be back at the hotel before dinner.

On our way to Lisboa center, I find it amazing how many people are outside, on their way or just sitting, walking, chatting. Portuguese seem to be outgoing and talkative people. I see no rush, there is a calm flow, and everyone is always, always talking to each other.

My friends, coming from different parts of the world, are silent, but steadily pick up the atmosphere, chit-chatting, getting to know each other, joking about personal habits surfacing, sharing things happening or happened in their lives.

And all around us, the busy but laid back, talkative Portuguese.

We are back in time for dinner. The food is gorgeous. Our ears are sandblasted by live fado music. One of the singers comes up to me, calling me a sailor with no money but a lot of love. Should I worry? I decide not to.

In the bar after dinner, ideas spring up to keep the group connected. I smile, and hope we will.

Happy Hour

Fri, 20 Feb 2009 22:59:13 +0100

Have you ever found yourself in the situation where you tried to get home by train, after an evening out with your friends, having trouble finding the train that takes you closest to home? Guess what happened to me ...

Friday night, happy hour at the local hangout. I was on time, this time.

Usually on a friday, I have so much to finish before the weekend that I end up at happy hour an hour later. I wish happy hour would last longer than the internationally agreed “one standard hour”. An hour is never long enough to be there on time, and, what’s even more important, what happens to the happiness after the hour?

But, as I said, I was on time this time, which, given my history of happy-hour-attendance, caused a cheer with my friends and made me the first subject of the round of well wishes and general amazement. Others followed, triggered by things like loud shirts, silly apparel markings, lack of cranial hair, shape of the nose or position in the company hierarchy. Yes, butt-kissing happens out here too, but as long as its during happy hour, its okay for another round of beer each time.

Beer ... we had a lot of that, before the scotch ... and then, time to go home. There is a train station near our local hangout, and I had no trouble finding it. The difficulty was getting to the right platform to get onto the train home.

In the end, I just sat down at one of the platforms, waiting for a train to come. It was getting cold, and I noticed that people were arriving and departing, rendering the station in a state of restless emptiness.

A train to my home town came in, and I boarded, smiling , thinking of the nice evening I had with my friends, and of the soft and warm bed awaiting me at home.