Just Keep Smiling -- AKA The Day from Hell

Yesterday for the first time in a long while, my father, mother, brother and I all had a day off and nothing planned. So we decided it would be fun to drive to Amsterdam and do some shopping, go out for dinner and see the special Christmas Lights all over the city.

You've read the title...

The day started off wrong. I woke up with a horrible pain in my right foot, so bad that I could hardly stand on it. I'd had this pain before a couple of weeks back and already resolved to go to the doctor once she was back from her Christmas holiday. To be honest, I hadn't expected it to come back so soon. I got ready and the pain subsided, so I thought I would be alright and we set out to Amsterdam.

Only... we had quite some trouble getting out of the house. We probably went back upstairs and back inside three or four times until we finally made it to the car. That was when we realized we had forgotten our navigation system and my brother had to hurry back inside to get it. Once we had everything and were good to go--we saw the tank was nearly empty. 


Looking back, we should probably have taken all this as a sign.

Our next bout of bad luck came when we reached the Ajax stadium where we always use the park & rail service. There was a line. With dread we realized that there was a Christmas circus in town, which probably explained all the traffic. We only hoped there wasn't a match on. 

When we finally reached the front of the line we were informed that the park and rail was closed today (it is NEVER closed!) and handed a leaflet with the orders to keep driving and try one of the other P&R's. 

We drove a while until we could find a spot to actually look at the leaflet. Which, of course, was in Spanish--very helpful. None of us speak Spanish but we could still read the map and made our way to the next P&R. We couldn't find it. After driving in circles and following crazy directions on our nav system, in between other confused drivers, we finally realized that the P&R didn't exist anymore. 

Getting frustrated, but trying to laugh everything off as something you'd find funny later, we started for the nearest P&R one that I had been to recently, so which should technically still be there.

Of course, so did everyone else.

There was a line. There were no spaces. It was already past two in the afternoon. 

We don't give up easily though, so we made our way to IKEA, knowing that they always have plenty of (free) parking spaces. IKEA, naturally, had a huge sale and it was incredibly busy. By some sort of mercy from a higher power, we found a spot and made our way to the nearest metro station.

Which is when I found out that, really, I wasn't fine and that I couldn't actually walk on my right foot anymore. Still, I didn't want to be the one ruin our day (aside from, you know, luck, fate and several bored lesser deities at least). So we made our way slowly to the train and bought our tickets.

Everything seemed to be a little better and we were actually on our way to the city centre of Amsterdam. What could possibly go wrong now?

We left the metro-train and just before it left, my mother realized that one of the footrests of her wheelchair was missing. My brother jumped back in the train to look for it, but it wasn't here. He jumped out just in time and the train left.

Guess where it was? 

That's right, on the train tracks. It had somehow magically managed to wriggle it's way free and fall through a gap that by rights shouldn't even be big enough for it to fall through. 

My brother then sprinted after a man with a yellow vest, already leaving the platform. He called in one of his colleagues who then waited with us, while we all waited for the rescue team.

Meanwhile about seven trains passed and each time we kept praying that the momentum of the trains wouldn't move the footrest and they wouldn't de-rail or something. 

The rescue team finally came, utterly amused and had to STOP TRAFFIC for us so that one of them could hop down and get the footrest. We thanked them and could finally go up above ground. I honestly wondered whether this wasn't all a sign that something horrible was about to happen if we set foot in Amsterdam. Maybe fate was actually trying to save our lives.

We still went, being the no-nonsense Dutch we are, and found our way to Dam Square. We were certain the worst was behind us and our luck would turn.

We went down Kalverstraat, which is the Amsterdam equivalent of Oxford Street, meaning it's a whooooole lot smaller and less interesting, but still the main shopping street. It was already late and we had about two and a half hours of shopping time left if we still wanted to eat at a relatively normal time.

We were about twenty meters in when suddenly there was a wall of people in front of us and a wall of people formed behind us and within seconds we were completely sandwiched in a huge body of people. Nobody moved. 

Now I study in Amsterdam and I walk through the Kalverstraat all the time. I've been there in Summer when it's filled to the brim with tourists. I have been there at Koninginnedag when there isn't a spot of non-orange left and you are just swept away with the crowd (search for Queensday or Koninginnedag Amsterdam on google and you'll see) and this has never, NEVER, happened to me before.

We were stuck. Instead of being logical and each taking one side of the road, our side didn't leave room for their side to pass, and the same thing was happening over to their side. SO NOBODY MOVED. and we couldn't even go back anymore. We were stuck.

I don't get claustrophobic that easily, but after a while (especially when they started pushing) I couldn't breathe. I held on to my brother but we had already lost our parents somewhere in the throng. Slowly we inched forward. After about twenty-freaking-minutes of trying to move forwards we reached a point where there was a small side-street where half of hte people was trying to get into, and the other half was still trying to go forward.

Not fun.

We finally broke free and from one moment to the next we could move again and the whole problem was gone. For us. Not for the poor suckers still stuck behind us.  

We laughed it off, me reminding the "horrible thing" I had thought would happen. If someone started to really panic in that mass of people, hysteria could have easily broken out and people could have gotten seriously injured.

Fortunately we were OK and most people seemed more annoyed and bewildered than panicked. So we hurried on, my foot by now so bad I was more limping than walking.

Then, as crown on the cherry, we finally reached a store my mother has wanted to go to for ages and... of course.... it was closed.

We still managed to visit some bookstores though and see a few of the lights. By now I felt so tired and sore that I really wanted to go home so we made our slow way back down (fast lifts, apparently are science-fiction in public transport and large department-stores).

Here our luck finally turned. By rights we shouldn't have caught our Metro-train which was already on the platform when my mother and brother were still waiting for the lift. But it left late for some reason and we still managed to board it. Then we made our slow way to IKEA, just in time before the kitchen would close, ate delicious if slightly cold meatballs with fries and finally went back home. 

Right now my legs are sore, my foot still aches ... but yesterday surely was a day to remember and something to laugh about: The day luck was against us. 

I hope you all had a lovely week.

Keep Writing,

Noortje 

Fearless

Yesterday, After a gruesome semester and a horrible week filled with finals, I was meeting up with some friends for some well deserved pizza & drinks.  

Due to circumstances I had to wait for more than half an hour at "het Leidseplein" in Amsterdam. I had been there many times before (our favourite pizza restaurant is there as are all the best places to go to concerts) but only passed through the square to wherever I was going at the moment.

While I waited I saw this:

Street musicians. 

I was there long enough to witness two sets of bands. First two men who sang beautiful songs with just two guitars. Then a whole band of guys with their instruments (see the pic).

People stopped. They stopped their busy lives and stood there listening to the music, watching the men perform. Some of them even sat down to enjoy the show. At the end of every song there was applause and CD"s were bought. 

And I couldn't help but wonder how they could be so brave and notice the similarities with writing--sending it to a publisher in particular.

You see writing is like learning how to play an instrument. It takes time, it will most likely suck at the beginning and only slightly resemble some of your favourite books.

Then, if you are serious about writing, after lots of practice, there comes a point where you must make a decision. Am I going to show this to people? 

 

And then comes the inevitable fear: Is it good enough? Will anyone ever like this? Can I make it as a writer? What was I thinking!?!?!?!?!

When the second band came on they seemed nervous, unsure. They were awkwardly tuning or trying out their instrument, looking no one in the eye and people got up and left. Until one of the musicians of the first band urged them on. 

It is the same fear. People could walk away. You could be playing for no one. They could even laugh at you or make fun of you.

Just like you might get a nasty rejection letter. Or someone you showed it to might ask if you're serious, you call this a novel? 

 

But it was good. You could tell that they were enjoying themselves so we stopped and listened. 

It's the same with writing. Believe in yourself, be passionate, have fun. Love your story and chances are others will love it too. Just play that first note, get over your fear. Start playing! 

And as always:

Keep Writing!

Xx Noortje 

Update & Lots of Writers

Midterms are finally over!!

I was a bit worried this time but I've managed to pass all my exams so far ^^
Sorry I haven't been able to post much in a while! I have been doing a lot of fun things that I probably could have blogged about but I never seem to find the time ^.^"

 

This morning I felt pretty sick so I decided to take it slow for a day and do absolutely nothing except for reading, writing and watching movies that I've already watched about 20 times before. 

So a few weeks ago THE John Green came to Amsterdam for a quick visit. I've been a Nerdfighter for a long time (for anyone who doesn't know the vlogbrother's go to YouTube now! :D) and I absolutely adored John's new novel The Fault in Our Stars. I really recommend it to you guys :)

So I immediately signed up to meet him and had an amazing time sitting in some sort of cellar like room (which apparently was some sort of club) that was located UNDER a bridge. Like... it was basically inside the bridge somehow... I think? It was very strange and directly behind my university building. Imagine that. Just when you think you start to know your little area of Amsterdam you find yourself talking to your idol under a bridge. 

Anyway, it was insightful, funny and brilliant and I gladly spend about an hour cramped up on the horribly uncomfortable cold floor, squeezed in between other teens while I slowly lost all feeling in my legs. After that he signed my copy of his book and was so nice! :3

I've also gone to see the Hunger Games movie (twice so far) of course and have to say that I loved it. It has been about a year since I devoured all three books within a week, so some of the details of the book were a bit hazy, but I still have to say that it was a great movie adaptation.

What else is new... oh right I also started art journaling! I'm not sure if you guys know what that is (I'm not even sure) but as I understand it you just create "art" in any for you want in a note book. My mom started it by using paints and rubber stamps (she sells those) and I decided to do the same but with drawings and paints. So far I'm loving it. To me drawing is a lot like writing. You get to focus on something for a while, creating something whilst completely losing yourself in another world :) 

I might post some pages here someday when I have a few more and if it's not too embarrassing haha (So this picture isn't my journal. Mine is no where near this pretty)

I have more fun things planned next week! I'll be going to the Elf Fantasy Fair--dressed up all steampunky--and will hopefully get to meet Robin Hobb and Christopher Paolini who will both be there! I'm so excited! 

That was my update for now! :) What have you guys been up to?

Keep Writing! 

Xx Noortje 

  

Memories on a Train

 The most astonishing thing happened to me today. I took the train to Amsterdam to meet with a friend for a study session. What happened that morning was quite thought provocative as well and I might talk about it later. But what I am still thinking about now is what happened a few hours ago:

I was sitting at the station, on my way home, waiting for my train to come. I sat down on one of the few benches next to this old couple. At first I hardly noticed them and only listened with half an ear as they talked about the trains and they complained about something. (I'm not sure what but complaints at a train station aren't uncommon). 


They seemed ordinary to me. I didn't wonder what they had been doing or where they were going. I didn't wander anything. Somehow, to a lot of people, older men and women don't really seem to count anymore. By the time I had boarded the train and sat a few chairs away from them, they no longer existed in my mind as I focused on some poems due this week. 


But this woman, whose daughter and her friends were reading their Anne Frank books (having just been to the house in A'dam) started a conversation with the couple, after they had asked about the children's unusual reading choice (they were pretty young). 


I didn't really listen at first until I realized what they were talking about.

The couple was telling the mother about the Netherlands and the war. About all they remembered from the time after the war and what their parents had told them. Even the few fleeting memories they had as small children.  They patiently answered all the questions the girls had about that time and Anna Frank (which they both knew a lot about somehow). 


They started talking about themselves some more and their lives--making me completely abandon my poems. I listened to them intensely, amazed by what I heard.


The old man was relating--with great longing and fondness in his voice--about how he and his wife used to travel. He had gone to Indonesia because he got a good job offer there and his wife had gone with. 


While in Indonesia he and his wife longed to travel more. He laughingly told the mother that their first biggest travel was Thailand (refusing to count Indonesia because it was for work). From then on they travelled all over the world: China, Malaysia, North-America, Mexico, Egypt, all around Europe, and many more countries. 


He explained how most of the times they just took their bags with them everywhere. Most mornings they had no idea where they would sleep at night. They talked about seeing the Incan temples and how they could get close and even climb up to the top. He sighed explaining that now you couldn't get as close anymore. 


I marveled as I heard them both express how much they would love to see those countries again and travel to others such as Japan. They still wished to see more. 


The old man started talking about a museum he had visited in Mexico City. He sounded incredibly exited as he recalled how it was one of the most amazing museums he had ever been too. And how they would tell stories about the artifacts and cultures, so gripping, that he could almost see it for himself, almost believed he was there to see it.


They made notes every day on every journal and still read them together sometimes to remember. The man said "Because it's still there. You just have to remember." The notes help them relive their adventures.


Before they got up to leave at their stop, the woman smiled and exclaimed "You have really lived your lives... Isn't that wonderful?"


... And then to imagine that I sat next them at the station, without giving them a second thought at all.


I'm not sure if this post is making sense, but I just couldn't stop thinking about what I had learned about these people who I'll probably never see again. And how I realized that somehow I always seem to forget that old people were young ones. Still dream and have many amazing memories and have had incredible experiences.


And I wanted to remind you all that inspiration can come from anywhere. I could write a book about this couple. Or add them as characters in my novel. Or write about a girl overhearing them talk about their travels and deciding to go off on her own adventures. Or.... you get the point.


Hope you are all alright and that the muses have smiled upon your writing :) (excuse the cheesiness it is very late)


Keep Writing!

Xx Noortje