It is early evening in Amsterdam, approaching six o'clock. I was supposed to meet Jeff and Melissa at our hotel at 5, but I didn't make the train I had planned on and so I am running late. I step off the tram in Rembrandt's Plein, about three blocks from the hotel, and head up the street. It is narrow, and the traffic noise is the jangle of bicycles on cobblestones and the "cling, cling!" of passing cyclers. The air is thick with mist, but not too cold. I am glad that, just before I left my house this morning, I repacked out of my suitcase and into Mark's large backpack so it is easy for me to slip through the city streets. Maybe the next street will be Prinzengracht. Dusk is falling, and the bridges over the canals are lined with lights. Maybe the next street will be Prinzengracht. Or maybe the next one? I've gone too far. I turn to go back to Rembrandt's Plein to reorient myself. But now I've gone too far again, or gone the wrong way -- I should have come to Rembrandt's Plein by now. I look at my draft-quality printed snippet of a Google map; it's not zoomed in enough to give me all the street names, and I can't find myself on it. I know Jeff and Melissa are waiting for me at the hotel and I hope they aren't worried, but I am inexplicably charmed by the quiet rows of brick houses, the lights reflected on each canal. A tram station: I stop to look at the map posted here and compare it to my map, now beginning to wilt in the moist evening. I begin to have a general sense of my location, but it takes a few times of walking around the gangly intersection to read enough street names to figure out what direction I want to go from here. Suddenly the street names are matching what I have on my map, and the sense of vertigo, of fantasy diminishes. It is 6:45; I am turning onto Prinzengracht. There is the Prinzenhof Hotel, a narrow door at the top of a set of stairs so narrow they barely leave a footprint on the sidewalk. A sign says to please check in at the cafe on the corner. The cafe is full of bodies and noise, and I am about ready to barge in with my oversized backpack when I see Jeff coming around the corner. He lights up; we hug; he calls Melissa, who was on her way to a grocery store across the street to get some dinner. We buy a picnic dinner together, take the tram to Anne Frank's house, come back to our hotel where I sleep like a log.
In front of our hotel the next morning
On the tram in Amsterdam
Maastricht may not be much of a tourist destination, but did you know there is a visiting almost-professor teaching there right now? I visited two of his classes on British Lit; I arrived during "Paradise Lost" and was fascinated by the book and his lectures. I tried to keep up with the reading so I could be aware of what was going on in class, but it was hard when I was sharing a book with the professor and he kept snitching it to work on his lesson plans. The class hours were crammed full of insights, comparisons, opinions, discussions. I took notes and found much to feed not only my mind but my soul.
I also liked seeing Jeff and Melissa's open door towards the students; someone was always stopping by to print something, or get advice on what to do with a sick roommate, or say hi. Monday night was game night; the students were eager to get out their favorite, Ticket to Ride.
Tuesday day trip to Brussels
(think waffles -- with a heap of real whipped cream and warm chocolate sauce
chocolates -- we bought some for friends and broke into a bit ourselves on the train on the way home
french fries -- which we ate with our dinner, in a little cafe where we were happy both to be eating and also to be out of the rain)
A friend from small group, Natascha, met me at the train station and drove me to the airport. She works in Düsseldorf, and although we didn't have a lot of time together, we shared a cup of coffee and a good chat and I was glad it worked out for us to meet.
Saturday at the Haussers we set out on a small expedition. Bernhard drove us over a narrow winding mountain road to a little village tucked into the Schwabian Alps; from there we walked along quiet country roads overlooking villages Zillhausen and Streichen and piercing through tidy German forests.
Melanie and I were given tickets to go see the Messiah in Balingen on Sunday afternoon; she had never heard of it but thought the idea of singing the Scriptures was a great one. The text had been translated into German, but from what I know of the original and of German I was able to piece it together. We sat on the wooden pew in the old stone church and the familiar music, the incredible, sorrowful, triumphant message washed over us. We left delighted, blessed.
Our main activity during the week (other than enjoying Joshua and keeping him occupied) was cavorting in the kitchen. Lentils and sausages with spätzle and kale, Thai coconut chicken curry, sesame salmon salad, apple waffles, grilled fish with roasted potatoes and ginger carrots. To supplement, we also visited a couple of local bakeries and brought home a sampling for Kaffeetrinken (that great German mid-afternoon tradition). When we found out that Jeff and Melissa were coming to visit me in Berlin, Melanie suggested that we revive one of our old traditions and make cinnamon rolls together -- some for her to take to a gathering on Thursday afternoon and some for me to take back to Berlin to share with the Mortons and Jeff and Melissa.
I heard enough German to realize that even with the great sense of progress I have been enjoying, there is still much I do not understand. I found that I know quite a few friends from the Hausser's church after all my visits there, and I enjoyed being able to exchange a few simple sentences with many. But it is also frustrating to be bound to such a low level of communication. I suddenly appreciate very much fluency with the English language, the ability to understand nuances of meaning when others are speaking and to be an artist with the language myself. I also appreciate God's ability to understand what I mean even when I myself do not fully know my heart. It is good to be understood. Bernhard and Melanie were gracious to start many conversations with me in slow, easy German and then switch to English when the German became too difficult.
Snowy walk on Tuesday (the snow had all melted weeks ago, but it returned on Sunday morning)
A sweet little friend
Yesterday, in cold and sunny Berlin with Jeff and Melissa, I started the free walking tour for the fourth time. Halfway through I broke off and sat in a cozy cafe with a hot chocolate and my book while Jeff and Melissa finished the tour -- it was too cold, and I was tired after my busy travels, and it was, after all, my fourth time on the tour. (Why am I not giving these tours now?) We met again and after some deliberation (and the discovery that the Reichstag dome is closed to walk-in visitors since the terrorist threats this winter), we took the S-Bahn to Charlottenburg and went to the top of the Funkturm (radio tower). A hazy horizon blurred the view, but the sweet light of the setting sun charmed the sprawling city.
The Funkturm
This morning I sat at the kitchen table in my pjs and fleece, sunshine blazing in through the tall windows and striking the tulips in their square glass vase. Lilah sat behind me making a "pink tail" with my hair (derived from "pig tail"). "Oh, you are going to be so beautiful!" she told me. Claire sat on my lap, wanting me to do "This little piggy" just one more time and then squirreling away to join Lilah at her hair dressing task. I missed this family, and after seeing many new things, walking many miles, riding on planes and trains and buses and more, I was exactly in the mood to sit in the sunshine in the kitchen with nothing to do and dear ones who wanted nothing but just to be with me. Jeff and Melissa are seeing my old friend the Pergamon Museum this morning; plans for the afternoon are TBD. The Morton family went out to a Kindercafe for lunch and a morning frolic; I am glad for the chance to have a quiet moment and tell a little of my story.
How grand to hear of your adventures. Looking forward to having some with you soon!
ReplyDeleteHow good to hear from you! You make it sound like so much fun to be there. I am especially glad that Jeff and Melissa were able to be there too.
ReplyDeleteI think that Maastricht sounds like an exciting tourist place--especially with the almost professor there with you!