Guest Post by Daddy

Well we went today to see a real castle, Castle Cannenburch, It was a very old castle, the original building on the site was built in 1365, the present day castle was built upon the ruins of the first. When we got there we walked down a set of stairs and  found a small nook with two iron chairs and the water from the moat was so high that it was flooding the floor under the chairs, the lady in black took a seat to view her domain!! 

We stated to tour of the castle in what was once the stable, saw a video of the various people who lived in the castle, unfortunately for me it was in dutch! Then we went to the castle proper, crossed a bridge over the moat down a steep stairs to the basement where we tarted going through the castle; they had these really cool devices on lanyards that were programmed, thankfully in English, and as you went into each area it was synced to that room and you could hear a narrative of what the room was used for and some of the history of the furnishings and portraits that were hanging there. The circular stairs throughout the castle were steep and wide, but only the outside curve was really usable since the rest was too narrow; children must have loved them though! Each room was huge, with ceilings that were maybe ten to twelve feet high. They were heated by one or two shallow high fireplaces; knowing what I know of how fireplaces work, those rooms must have been really cold except right in front; so you either baked or froze. Never mind that someone had to haul the wood up those narrow stairs. The furniture looked uncomfortable, high back stiff looking chairs and hard looking benches. The basements had the butchers room where all the game was slaughtered and hung up to dry and cure. There was the kitchen with its pantry and cold storage root cellar. There was the room of the overseer, who looked after the operations of the castle business. Interesting to find out that it was the lady of the castle who was the CEO of the place and it was her job to bring in income and resources for the castle while her husband was out usually in the military. There was the kitchen servants, the maids, the gardener, the miller, the livestock handler, etc., etc., each with his or her own areas of responsibility with underlings under them as well. There was a chapel built late as part of the castle, the residents of the castle held onto their Catholic faith when most of the country turned to other religions. We ended up in the attic, a huge space dark and cold, where they stored trunks and hung wash in winter. Up in the attic the museum had a small hologram of a man and women, something about a meeting and then he left and she was left alone, only part of the hologram was working which was too bad, it would have been interesting to see the whole thing. We finished with the castle and then wanted to see the gardens, but there was not much too them, at least at this time. So we started on our way home to the castle of Kabel!

My first fresh herring since I was here last as a lad of 14; I won't eat them everyday, but they were good!

Zaanse Schans, A Photographic Essay

First of all, there were ducklings.

Then, there were wooden shoes.

(It is hard to look vampish when falling off a giant wooden shoe.)

After that, there were windmills.

Big ones...

...

...and little mini ones.

Finally, there were more ducklings.

The End.

(It was a good day.)

The Sweet Lake City Temple

The Den Haag Temple is built in a town called Zoetermeer, which translates into "Sweet Lake" or "Fresh Water Lake".  Cool, huh?  My dad and I went to there on Thursday with our hosts, Guus and Joan.  A lovely thing to do on a rainy day.

My Family

Sometimes the world seems impassably treacherous.  Every new story you hear reminds you that there never is a final happily ever after.  Feeling even a little bit of pain can push you over the nihilistic edge, and you start to think that a whole lifetime is too much time to be alive when there is no real rest for the weary.  Why bother slogging through one more day of crap just to deal with a day after that, also full of crap, and so on and so forth?

This feeling overtakes me more than people who see me in daily life think and less than people who read my facebook wall think.  My antidote is generally movement (for example:  I was happy that my car broke down on the day of a traumatic breakup, and I had to walk 45 minutes to and from school for two weeks) and love.  Not the kind of love that only seems to end in tears, but the simpler and quieter kind that always stays.

I just skyped with my mom and my brother and felt a millstone lift off my chest.  I know that my family is special.  Sometimes we hurt each other or don't like each other, and sometimes we are far away.  Sometimes I feel like I didn't need my family, like I can do better all by myself in foreign places where no one knows my name.  Sometimes living home feels like a cage that I am trying to escape.
But in our family we stick together.  We move through the day, carrying or dragging each other as needed, and it's the little, normal things that fix the hurts.  We try to be honest.  We try to be kind.  We do a good job at accepting each other just as we are and supporting each other in our personal journeys.  We are getting better at it.

My family is my reason to believe in life.  I love you guys.

Sometimes it just hits you, you know?

I Hate Jetlag

It is 2:10 am here and I've been laying in bed for three hours trying to lose myself to sleep. Last night I fell asleep at 9:40 pm just fine, mainly because I hadn't slept properly in about 31 hours. Tonight it feels like no time to be sleeping--it's only 8:15 pm at home!! Instead I am putting myself through the worst torture anyone could imagine for someone like me: undisturbed, distraction-less hours to THINK.

During the worst times of my life, I counted myself lucky that I fell asleep at night with little trouble. I figured I had exhausted myself during the day with feeling sad, and my brain and body gladly fled consciousness for the only-slightly-less-troubling dreamworld. Today, however, I clearly have not been depressed enough*. My brain is running me through such sordid and candid topics as ____-______ __________, __ ______ __-________, and _____. (Haha, and you thought i was going to tell you! I may wear my heart on my sleeve in the daytime, but I will not reveal to the whole internet what I have been unable to avoid thinking about tonight.**)

I read a chapter of The Wheel of Time #5... I role-played a dialog for a potential future relationship situation and then wrote it down (does anyone else do that, or is it just me?)... I went to the bathroom... I just spent 30 minutes writing this blog post... Now I'm going to turn off the light, close my eyes, and pay close attention to my lungs as I breathe. Maybe I'll bore myself to sleep.

Update:  I fell asleep.  Not soon after.  And it is amazing how my ribcage expands and lifts when I concentrate on breathing big..



*Good? Right?
**Sofia, all that is running through my mind right now is "what do you think...when there's nothing to think about?" Thanks to you and Boo dog.

From Vaassen, With Love

Actually, this is from the airport in Boston.  I took a bunch of pictures as I was pretty bored already and Dad was checking his email with the scarcely funtioning public wifi.

THESE are from Vaassen!  This is around 5 in the afternoon when we went for a walk so we wouldn't fall asleep, since neither of us had slept well on the planes.  Can you tell?  We are a little paler, less enthusiastic with moving the muscles of our faces?

Daddy took pictures of thatched roofs and turn-buckle-devices to keep fence wires tight.  I philosophized about traveling and feeling like a drifter.  The conversation went something like this:

Me:  Sometimes I feel like I don't belong anywhere, like no place I've been is the place for me to stay.
Dad:  Will you look at that roof.  Interesting thatch.
Me:  And I like being in some places, but sometimes no place feels right.  Have you ever felt like that?
Dad:  I didn't like NYC much.  Check out this fence:  this thing keeps the wires tight.  Brilliant.

Sometimes that is just how we communicate.  Also, Dad wanted me to include these pictures, so I'll humor him:

thatch

winch

After a good night of sleep (practically 12 hours), we went for a HUGE long bike ride down to Apeldoorn.  I showed Dad the Paleis Het Loo and my old school, Veluws College, and the pedestrian city center.  I bought him a kroket, delicious delicious things that they are.  We fed my leftover airplane brownie to some ducks as Oranjepark.  Then we biked all the way back.

When we got back, Dad laid himself down on the carpet and promptly fell asleep.

It was a good time but it was kind of strange for me.  We biked down a street that I had "discovered" all by myself when I was just learning what independence meant.  It took us five minutes.  We stood in front of my school where I spent Monday through Friday every week for a year.  We looked at it for a grand total of 75 seconds ("Look at all the bikes!") and then moved on.  We sat in a park where I once took last minute photos for my photography class and where I liked to read after school before I had to head home.  And I kept thinking to myself, "This is kind of boring.  What more can we do?  What else can I show him?"   

I've known for a long time that you can't go back in time.  But sometimes it hits you again, you know?  The past, even the good bits, is gone.  I can't share it with anyone.  The present, on the other hand, I CAN share, and I have.  :)  With my daddy.  :) 

Here are some more pictures (and a video) of a good day already gone.  See afterwards for a paragraph from Daddy!

me and a shed with a vine tree growing off it. coolest thing.

Oranjepark

Paleis Het Loo

walking the bikes for a bit

i'm amazed i didn't crash taking this picture

♥

Daddy writes:

Today was the first day that I rode a bike since I was a young father, back when my children were small. It is much different from biking at home, we have hills and no bike lanes or trails. You never forget how to ride but your body muscles do not remember and they complain when forced to take on the task. I was amazed with how well the bikes and cars co-exist on the highways in Holland. As we went to Apeldoorn, part of the ride was on separate bike lanes, paved by the way, with signage too. When in the town, the bike lanes were right alongside of the car lanes; bike lanes in red. When cars approached they would move over if needed and cyclist would also move over. The styles of bikes are much different than in the states, much more practical and made for everyday use, not racing or off-roading. There were bikes designed to have a large wheelbarrow type of basket pushed on the ground in front of it with bicyclist behind; we saw a mom with two children inside the basket peddling away, like it was nothing to it; people here must have calves of steel! My calves on the other had were in full rebellion, and crying for release. But I made the journey anyway being a stubborn Dutchman and all! And Alexandra and I had a wonderful time, riding the wonderful bike trails of Holland in the light rain and chill.

You Can Take The Pilgrim Out Of The Camino...

...but her toenails will take at least six months to get back to normal.

If feet freak you out, don't read on.  Because these are my toes:

and these are my toenails:

See the tips of them?  Still yellow and tough from walking 500 miles.  But they are almost all the way grown out.  It will be odd when the last physical reminder of my pilgrimage is gone.  

It has taken me six months to be able to write again about the Camino.  I guess I knew that was coming; I traditionally take a long time to process important and life-changing experiences.  After being an exchange student in the Netherlands, I cried for a whole summer.  After my mission...well, I still haven't cracked open one of my journals and it has been four years since I got home.  

So what have I processed?  I just tried to write about what I have learned, but it came out in a jumble, and I deleted it.  

All I really know is I miss the simplicity of walking for a living.  I wish I had maintained the delicious inner peace of immediately-post-pilgrimage-Alexandra, but I don't know how that was to be done.  Maybe I have more of it still in me than I think, but life has certainly swept me away down some interesting roads.  Nothing has worked out as planned, except for teaching a class on dress history at Tufts.  That's been amazing.  Otherwise, no job, no place of my own, no plans past August...  Come to think of it, I believe that I am handling this uncertainty amazingly well.  That has to be a Camino legacy.

In a month I'm going to visit the Netherlands with my Dad, and then I'm going to France to apprentice to a hand-weaver.  The last bit of my pilgrim toenails will likely grow out while I'm there, having another adventure.