Holland for the day

The lakes, rivers and moats in Holland were almost all frozen. It's been one of the coldest winters in Europe this year. I love this picture because it reminds me so much of the time we skated here, and would then make hot chocolate with marshmallows.

I went to Amsterdam on family business Friday. It was great fun. I love Dutch houses. This is a house in a small village. The weather was pretty atrocious and my photo skills are what they are, but I hope you can see how quaint it looks.

This is the sweet shop where my mother and aunt used to go and eat Drop, which is the Dutch word for liquorice, and ice lollies, which I think you call popsicles in America. My favourites are King peppermints. I think all sweet shops should look like this.


When my sister and I were kids we would go to this playground and push each other on this swing. I missed her so much this time around, I asked my mother to take the pictures thinking of her. And yes, I've gone back to brunette.

What's up? I'm busy, looking for an internship in environmental science, writing a Masters dissertation on Quakers, planning a trip to America this Easter, getting ready to celebrate my birthday. Oh, and falling pretty heavily for someone.

Holland is home to me. Just being there for a day was enough to stop time a little. I love the flat horizon, the endless rows of houses, the growling language, the tall, tall people, the bicycles everywhere.

We all have our Heimat, that wonderful German word that describes the place we call home, not necessarily our homeland or the place we live in, but that mysterious link that sometimes bind us to a place.

My Heimat smells like King peppermint.

SRSLY

I'm learning that I don't have enough time ever to do all the things I want, but that it's OK, really, not to be able to do it all.

I'm learning how to play poker. First poker night today, and I'm equal parts nervous and excited. Which prop should I use to bluff??? A pair of glasses or a baseball cap? After watching some World Poker Tour footage, I'm guessing both.

I'm learning that life with my sister so far away isn't as much fun as when she's around, but then I always kinda knew that.

I'm learning that some movies should be watched late at night, when you can't sleep, because they take all sorts of strange meanings.

I'm learning that it's wonderful dating a 6'2 man, especially when I'm wearing heels and I'm 6'1.

I'm learning that Environmental Law is very interesting.

SRSLY interesting.

Photo credit: X took this a few months ago when the weather wasn't SNOW SNOW SNOW and it cracks me up. We both love stupid LOL Cats and so when we espied this fun fair sign, I just had to ham it up. Also hilarious to me is the fact that I am, as usual, eating some sort of cake.
He sent it to me a few days ago. Thanks, mate!

Scarlet woman

Two years ago, I was a demure brunette. But secretly I yearned to go red.

I've always been fascinated by the mystique of the redhead.

There's Rita Hayworth.

I was so in love with Rita as a child. Her song-and-dance turns in Cover Girl or You never were lovelier fascinated me. In Cover Girl she's shot in Technicolor, and you get to see just how lovely her hair looks, in thick, red curls. She was certainly beautiful, but mostly enthusiastic and energetic. I associated her with freedom and happiness.

Then came my next obsession: Franka Potente in the indie German success Lola Rennt.

Potente plays this punk small-time gangster's girlfriend, and as a twelve-year old the simultaneous discovery of techno music and bright ketchup red hair was overwhelming. I dreamed of being her. She was resourceful, stunning and different. She wasn't afraid to dress differently, the way I was. She was badass.




But I was afraid to go red for a long time. It's not an easy colour to maintain. It gets depressingly pale very fast. It's trying to the complexion. It's noticeable. And most of all, I thought I would have to be a Jessica Rabbit to pull it off. Sex on legs, if you will. I never found myself pretty: sexy was a huge leap.

So it took a great deal of confidence to go red. I started with a slightly more russet tone to my originally brown hair back in May. Then in Germany I went to a seedy hairdresser and he gave me something starker. By this time I was beyond caring what other people thought. I loved the way red made me feel. Like a woman, and not like a girl. I stopped feeling uncomfortable when people complimented me. I started enjoying dressing up, changing sartorial personalities.



Bad picture, of course. My sister helped me refresh my colour yesterday! Good job, J.

I'm proud of being a redhead. I'd like to have Rita's graceful allure, Franka's punk pride, and Jessica's sex appeal, but in the end I'm happy to be my own version of the scarlet woman.

Merry Christmas (Snippets)

There's something magical about Christmas; and I'm not talking about the way my stomach magically expands to fit in all the food it does. You arrive at that point in the year when you're supposed to exude good grace, mellow delight and happiness, effortlessly. Christmas isn't really a choice for most of us. We may sometimes fantasize about skipping everything and just go drink some beers with our friends, but in the end, cultural pressures make us give in. Family tensions always resurface, making us dread the usual tiffs and spats.

But sometimes it just works really well. It's the silliness of wearing paper hats, or the joyful snap of a cracker, or finding out that a gift you chose with love is really appreciated. It's playing with the cousins and laughing at the funny anecdotes and singing Cole Porter with your grandfather.

I was really happy to be with my family and reunited with my sister (who makes a special appearance today).

Hugs from France and happy holidays!

Snippets (walking back home)

I love walking home after a hard day of study. I like how crisp the air is, and the smell of grilled chestnuts sold by street vendors, and the way elegant Parisian women trot briskly in their heels. I go through some of my favorite bits of Paris, and I like noticing the small things, like the way a laundromat has its windows all steamed up, or the new Xmas decorations in the trees.










Next to my house is a candy floss stand. Candy floss happens to be what we call in French my péché mignon(my sweet sin: usually refers to food).Please note that we use the evocative name of "Daddy's beard" (Barbapapa) for this childish confection. Last night I felt very happy and carefree, so I thought I deserved to celebrate a nice walk home with spun sugar.




Before a long, internet-less weekend of hard studying, I wish everyone their favorite péché mignon in the days to come.

Stuff I like doing during autumn

Matching my lipstick to my hair. Or is the reverse?