The Spanish Girls

They are leaving tomorrow, on the same flight to Madrid. They are all amazing people and I am glad I got to know them this semester. The new band RaCa (Raquel and Carla) gave us splendidly horrible vocal renditions of Ave Maria at parties. The next day they'd sit around nursing their hangovers and saying "I don't know why the neighbors complain! They should be lucky they get to hear us for free. Maybe they want the CD." When Ted was here he asked me if I thought it was healthy to have that much fun. I'm not sure. They found a Christian song on the internet about a man who is in love with Laura, but he is waiting for marriage to have sex. Dinner often inexplicably devolved into clapping and singing that song. They would do the strangest things together, like go travel to a commune to look at the hippies, or go jump in a canal. When one of their friends moved into a new place, they would all go over together bringing cookies to see the new place. Carla would often be dancing at a club and suddenly go, "Hey, what happened! We need Shakira." And then she would go find the DJ to explain the problem. She is going to throw her bike in a canal tonight because she can't bear to think about someone else riding it around after she's gone. Ana's boyfriend, Will, was their pet. They all loved him but pretended not to. They all rolled their eyes at his fart jokes and mowhawks when he was here and cried when he left. I'm not looking forward to saying goodbye to them tomorrow morning.

I had dinner with Michael last night, one of my oldest friends. We were friends in third grade in Riyadh. Our international childhoods have had very different effects on us. He's addicted to travelling and I just want to settle down for once. Funny how things work out like that. I had lunch with Tante Ans today and discovered that we share a love of foreign grammar. I hope the other half-Dutch student at school, Colin, is around this summer. I'm looking forward to putting on some orange and sitting in front of a tv with some "hapjes" and watching the WK.

Because my window is open

Does anyone know the difference between "omdat" and "want?" Don't they both mean "because?" Also, there is a woman who hangs out on a patio under my window most of the time speaking something that sounds like Tagalog. Her life must be really funny because (omdat/want?) she's constantly laughing. Her laugh sounds exactly like the laugh of that garden party guest in Jaques Tati's "Mon Oncle." It's unnerving. The soundtrack of my life this week has been my own cough, her laugh, and the wind rustling the new leaves on the trees. 

Tulips

I think tulips are a very Dutch flower. Somehow, the fact that tulips grow in Holland seems very appropriate to me. Tulips are very no-nonsense flowers. They're beautiful, but they are not silly flowers. I think they're even masculine as far as flowers go. Holland is similarly an amazingly beautiful place, but it is also very to-the-point and dispenses with superfluous niceties. I know that there's about a million varieties of tulips and some of them are ridiculous, but the kinds you see growing in the fields generally have a plain, clean stalk with a single-colored bell-shaped flower. I think they're super. I also think the way they grow is very Dutch. Neat little squares in fields, properly tended, but they're so bright I can't even capture the color with my camera. They're very sensibly and logically laid out, but they're flowers! With no function other than beauty. Dutch furniture, houses, and housewares are also very geometric with bright colors. It warms my heart to see traditional Dutch farmers in wooden shoes and overalls carefully tending their crop of really good-looking flowers. Mom doesn't think that farmers who grow red tulips feel any more manly than farmers who grow white or purple tulips but I don't believe her. I think if I were a farmer with a field of intense red tulips I'd feel so superior to my neighbor farmers with their pansy little girly purple fields.

I think the word "meld" should be introduced into English. I don't think there's a translation, and it works perfectly. I told mom we didn't need to meld at the reception if we were just staying for five minutes and she knew exactly what I meant. I'm all about melding.

Things people do on bikes, part 3

A few days ago I saw a man riding a bike while carrying a very large, wicker arm chair. Today I saw a guy sitting cross-legged on a skateboard, while holding onto and being pulled by his friend's bike.