Day 60 of my return to the U.S. (but who's counting?)

This enforced being-at-home business -- I have to find out how people cope, since it's getting to me. Housewives do it for decades. People employed at home thrive on it. A strict routine is the only solution, I know, and I haven't established one, seeming to "go with the flow". Since the flow is going nowhere these days, I will create a structure. Recent retirees, such as my "esteemed former boss", a long-time corporate law partner, struggle with retirement, and I now know why. Routines are there for a reason. "The flow" is one thing, but one's daily structure is quite another. I've always been one to buck "the flow", and I now understand why that's counter-productive, but need to have more structure.

My Holland chapter is nearly tidied up (a few last bills to pay), and feels (reluctantly) like very ancient history. However, my re-entry to Washington, D.C. hasn't really started, and I've been here already two months!

I attended a beautiful Advent "Lessons & Carols" service last night, at a church where I sang in the 1980s. The music was so lovely and in the dark church (for half the service; then lightened and candle-lit) was a balm to the encroaching dark days of winter, though the weather here is still balmy, nearly in December!

Next on the list is to prepare a CV for the U.S. government's thousands of jobs and to learn how to navigate all the different departments' web sites. That's today's work, along with addressing Christmas cards.

Off to work!

Settling in (reluctantly)

It makes no sense at all. Here, in Washington, D.C., the same resume/CV is getting interviews and calls for appointments. I'm the same person that I was in Holland. The economy is drastically worse here than there. I'm not complaining, certainly. I'm thrilled to think that I'll likely soon have a job, after three months of fruitless applications in Holland. I have a small network within law, and that is helping. The only difference I can think of is that here it's illegal to ask one's age, and as a citizen, I'm legal to work here. There, they can and do ask age. One's age is linked to salary levels. Being a non-EU citizen, from the start, any employer would have to pay me more than a younger employee and also pay for a work permit (a few hundred Euros). So, that's employment. I have one telephone interview this week and another 'get-acquainted' chat and an invitation to audition for a singing job, so this is great progress and some testament to both the legal staffers' network and also to the singer's network.

I know that I sound ungrateful, and that's not it. It's just culture shock. One can't have it all, and I've had a choice made for me, and just have to deal with it. I do miss speaking Dutch, though! And having fresh, CHEAP flowers each week. And paying almost nothing for a beer. And riding my bike everywhere.

Right: this is boring and not productive. I'll stop.

Rushing, roaring cars; new planet?

Well ...

I knew it would be different. On the one hand, I am an American. I was born, raised, mostly educated and mostly have lived in the U.S. Having now lived for just over three years in Holland and having travelled a little around there, a little more in the UK and a little more in Lebanon and to Greece and Barcelona, it is not logical for me to miss my adopted country. I had issues with it (working there was a pain; most of the weather was pretty bad), but I miss it horribly.

The noise (lack of it there, the inundation of it here) is the biggest shocker. A close second is the mad dashing around here (Washington, D.C.). In Leiden, at least, the only rushing one sees (and that only occasionally) is bikes. In 10 minutes I could be anywhere in Leiden that I needed to be, by bike. Here in Washington, it would be truly life-threatening to ride a bike most places, and this is not due to crime, but to the car traffic. I miss biking horribly. When I have my own place, I will get a bike and make due with some riding. Washington being hilly is another issue, but that's well down the list.

Then, there's food: its cost and its freshness. One of those three-packs of bell peppers (red, yellow and green: the stop light) was priced at the nearest Safeway here at $4.99. In Leiden, at the corner Aldi, the same thing was under one Euro. At the Saturday market, it was well under one Euro -- FIVE times the price. And the tomatoes! My hothouse "Tasty Tom" tomatoes were so delicious,12 months of the year. Granted, that their price varied a bit through the winter months, but they were superb. Here, even the organic ones I bought have little taste. I haven't bought meat yet, but produce is a LOT pricier here and has a fraction of the taste. America desperately needs to move quickly in the direction of slow food, which will reduce the cost and improve the quality dramatically. I realize that I now sound like a rabid environmentalist, but it's so simple, and one feels so much better! Garbage in, garbage in how one feels.

I've only been back a week, so am trying hard not to complain, but the clash in cultures is strong. Food here is laughably expensive. We all need to eat! The stores have lots of food. Somebody is making a huge profit.

I am staying for a bit with my wonderful former (and future) real estate agent, the incredible Lucy. My remaining cat, Miss Dorabella, is coping admirably. She longs to sit outside on the window sill, but the traffic noise would be untenable, so she keeps watch from inside. I guess it will suffice to say that the basic quality of life here could be improved so much with small changes (less traffic in the city, slower food, and some old world ideas in the new world), but it won't happen. As time wears on, I will adjust a bit, but also will work on returning to the old world as soon as I can. It's where I bloom.

10 more days

Good morning, world,

Life is now a continuing checklist, right? I've still got important things to do that have nothing to do with packing, unfortunately.

Last night was fun: I removed over 100 CDs (with jacket notes) and a lot of DVDs from their boxes and inserted them into a book-sized carrier. I've still got over 100 CDs to do, but it saves a HUGE amount of space and weight. Highly recommended. I'll have to figure out the best way to organise them when I have them again (a few months from now; the gypsy life begins the 30th). It likely will be an Excel list, by composer. I'll miss looking at their little boxes, but not miss the amount of space they consume. I did assemble one carrier with my "desert island discs", to take with me.

The movers for the things going to Paris come tomorrow, so that's today's priority. My furniture will then be pared down to a few occasional tables, one small settee and two small lamps. Pretty dramatic, but it also feels good. Clothes have been similarly pared down (which as a female, I count as a major accomplishment).

What superb friends I have. My former neighbor, Dona, who flies with KLM, will take me as her "buddy" next week to Washington and then continue on to Princeton, where her American husband works far too hard. I will have a free flight! Little Dorabella will fly in cargo, but she will do it well. I've been explaining the next adventure to her.

Tuesdays in Leiden start rather slowly. On Mondays most retail is closed, to give their owners a day off after the weekend, so things are a bit sleepy. One gets used to this, but when my BANK also was closed, I was very annoyed. Banks are different.

Another Leiden friend, Louise, who continues to work at my former employer, a global law firm, has volunteered to be my mail/post recipient and scan things to me, a thankless job. We have celebrated the victories and damned the failures of life together for two years now. She speaks flawless British English, the best I've heard here in Holland. She and others here have enriched and expanded my treasure chest of friends. I told Dona last night that the really hard part of this move has nothing to do with furniture or banks or address changes, but with leaving friends here who go through life with me. That I can't have ALL of the people I love with me in one place is very painful. I hate it.

Off to get on with it.

Thanks for listening.

I'm leaving my heart in . . . Leiden, Haarlem, Den Haag, Utrecht, Enkhuizen, Delft, Elburg . . .

I know I'm sounding maudlin, but living in this beautiful country has been like a dream. In Leiden, particularly, virtually every time I step outside, the beauty of it sweeps over me. Streets unchanged in probably 600 years, the Saturday market likely the same. Thousands of people, on bikes, so other than people talking, it's quiet. The Rhine, biforcated when it reaches Leiden, into the "Old" and "New" Rhine as it heads out to empty into the North Sea. Someone's always playing the carillon in the Town Hall, and it echoes all over the inner city. Early on in my 2006 study year, I stopped at the bank (on the high street), and couldn't believe my ears, when I realised that the carilloneur was playing "I feel pretty", from West Side Story!

This afternoon I had a farewell drink and snack with Eva, the Polish marvel who gives great pedicures and advice on the world. We are soul sisters. She thinks that my move is for a reason, that likely I've had enough of Holland, but I haven't.

Tomorrow is another trip to The Hague, to sell a lovely silver service (my grandmother's) that I never use. Does anyone serve coffee and/or tea from large silver pots any more? I never have. I'm really scaling down my possessions and it continues to feel so freeing.

Thursday is my last book club meeting, and we're reading John Updike's "Couples", which I so far intensely DISlike. What a strange writer. I can't fathom why he has been so popular in the U.S. I will really miss discussing books with such a congenial group, though, and will look for a similar outlet in Washington. I will miss most of all Ans, the owner (of The Mayflower Book Shop), who has a superb stock of English-language books, is funny and understands life. There is a wonderful book store in Washington, called "Chapters", and maybe they have a book club, but it's (now) a big store and less personal. Ans's shop is tiny and very cosy.

I see that there is a major and well-organised Scottish country dancing web site, so will somehow get into that. I've wanted to do this since a kid, so it's time.

Right! Off to read Updike, which is work.

Thanks for listening.

Counting down: less than 14 days

It's really happening.

The good news is how much stuff is being shed. I will fly back to Washington with one cat (small), one laptop, and one suitcase (large). The balance (a few small tables, a printer and one settee, summer clothes and kitchen stuff, books, CDs and DVDs) goes into storage here until I get a new home. What's great is that I have the time to shed in stages, so that emotions that may permit keeping something in early shedding change and let me get rid of it in subsequent shedding. For the first and surely only time in my life, my possessions won't run me.

Odd things keep coming to mind: ugly money (olive drab vs. lovely colors). How scary bike-riding will be. Missing 3 October (Leiden's liberation from Spain) and its drunken 3-day chaos here will be a huge relief. Seeing my wonderful D.C. friends and former colleagues. Singing again, assuming that I still have a voice. Being able to get a good job without a work permit and not having to declare my age and be discriminated for it. The vast American shopping market. Living in an enormous country -- space! Missing this tiny country, with its well-organised space. Speaking only English. Not stumbling over Dutch, but missing it, too.

Never before have I shed so many tears; they just keep coming, and I never know when. I keep thinking that there aren't any more, and then more come. Oh, well. I guess it's healthy. It is a grief.

Right: it's 14:11, and I have the afternoon to start packing/shedding books, so must seize the chance.

Tot ziens, Nederland

The decision seems to be made. A job isn't forthcoming, so I'm headed back to Washington, D.C. at the end of this month. Wonderful friends have offered housing (including for feline Dorabella; her mother, Alice, developed kidney failure over the summer and I did the right thing, which was heart-rending), and Craigslist offers very tempting jobs, unlike Holland. Truth be told, I won't miss working here, at *all*. It has been so stressful and tiring (long train commutes to two Amsterdam locations). I have done my utmost since July to find something, but all the effort produced only one interview, for a job I didn't want, and which didn't pan out. I'm resolved about the return, but certainly not pleased.

How I will miss the simplest things: beautiful, tranquil views. The market on Saturdays, with virtually free flowers. Biking everywhere. Lunch at the beach, with former neighbor, Dona. Beach pot-luck dinner picnics with her, too. Checking each other's homes when we're away. All manner of things with former Linklaters colleague Louise, who introduced me to the market and has shown me so much of this exquisite small city (pop. 120,000). Rembrandt in The Hague (Mauritshuis) or Amsterdam (Rijksmuseum). Vermeer, and his views still visible here. The gauzy, lovely light. Speaking Dutch and learning daily from my mistakes. Realising that after three years, I'm just beginning to learn this language.

1.25-hour flights to the U.K., with no jet lag. Feeling that I live in Europe, however changed Europe is (and it is). Athens last Christmas with Dr. Betts, meeting his friends there and revisiting Athens (didn't like it). Scotland (right at the top; Orkney islands seen clearly) for a long weekend. Barcelona for Christmas (on a catamaran) two years ago. Meeting people from all corners of the planet here, as normal. Feeling I really live in the world, here. Having my best friend from my study year be a Russian nearly a third my age. Having the great moving company's head tell me it would be okay, and our both knowing what I would lose.

Washington has lots of Rembrandt, but is three hours from a beach. Biking is life-threatening, but I plan to do it. Only one market, and it's enclosed (Eastern market), and up on Capital Hill. Very, very busy people. I've been away for three years, but will it have changed at all, other than to receive Obama with open arms? I rather doubt it. At least, it will have started to cool off, by October. It's the mad rushing around of all those important people that gets to me. It's a magnet for egos spun out of control. In spite of my English friend, Derek, telling me it was a village (we kept running into each other), it is a big city. Not as compared to London (which really *is* a lot of villages), but compared to Leiden, Washington is a giant.

I will have to find my villages, within it: a great small grocery in Woodley Park. Good, small bookstores around the city. Concerts at the Phillips Gallery. A coffee shop that is *not* Starbucks (they burn the coffee). A place to sit and just look. I don't even know where I want to live, but Woodley Park beckons, if I can find a nice apartment that's quiet. There will be singing again. Two out of three former church jobs have new music directors, so there will be fresh life there. The blissful singing with my Welsh conductor is over, since he is in northern Scotland, and not directing choirs.

Back to the land of 24-7 shopping and credit card debt (not for me!). Back to that vast market, though: clothes here are poorly made and not cheap, so I'll be able to replace things that have just worn out, from more than three years ago.

Holland has softened and calmed me. Maybe this is why I'm so loathe to leave it. I like myself so much more, living here. I'm a better person. Yes, I take this all with me, but I'm leaving.