Mini Update

I am that dumb American girl. I blew out the hotel electricity. ALREADY.

I had been calculating time differences for the past week and was feelin' pretty great about my plan to combat jetlag... until I woke up this morning, rolled over and looked at my phone. 3:00am Holland time. I was wide awake but I rolled over, shut my eyes tight and willed myself back to sleep. An hour later and I was still counting sheep. So I got up and decided a leisurely morning full of time to spare wouldn't be the worst thing. I read up on power converters, transformers and my curling iron settings and popped it in the outlet feeling all accomplished when it quickly started heating as usual. So at 4 in the morning, I sat comfortably in bed, watching a little tv and curling my hair. 10 minutes later there was a loud pop and I was suddenly sitting in the dark.

I, of course, made it a way bigger deal than it was in my head before walking full of shame to the front desk. The receptionist was completely lovely about it, saying it was not a big deal at all and my lights would be on again in no time.


To Holland, to the lovely desk girl, to this hotel: I will get this down and will stop being such a nuisance very soon. I promise.






Ps. Does this mean I probably shouldn't try again...? Only half of my head is curled! Haha

Hallo, Holland

Hi there lovelies!

Welcome to my little corner of the interwebs! I can’t promise I’ll keep up with some sort of crazy reliable bloggin’ schedule but I’ll do my best to keep you wonderful people updated on this bad boy! Also, just a little preface: be on the lookout for plenty of fun little shoutouts throughout.  If I really like you, you’ll probably see your own name here and there. Hope you ladies and gents are as excited as I am!

And with that… let’s get down to business!

I spent the last week in New York, visiting a certain small fallop favorite of mine. Arrived Tuesday night and hugged her nonstop until this morning! Thursday I ventured into the subway (if you know me well, you know that I mildly hate that hole in the ground) and made it to M&C Saatchi perfectly in one piece. I am so proud of that little Mard. Her work is so wonderful: no more low ceilings and terrifying cubicles, no more scary cold Office Space style workplace. Its big and open and airy and her coworkers seem wonderful. They took a wine break (wine 5:05 shoutout!) and ran around the office shooting each other with nerf guns. My dearest Mard, this makes me feel so much better about your sanity than that cube infested last place! From there we met a couple old coworkers at some shwanky, hard to get reservations, shmancy chef New York restaurant. Guys, our twelve-course tasting menu dinner was unfathomably expensive and full of some of the nastiest digs I have ever laid eyes (and lips) on. WD~50: you were a such a magical experience and I am so happy I got the opportunity to hang with you and all your molecular gastronomy, but bone marrow, foie gras and squab? Common. Can I just get, like, a cheeseburger? However, the waiter dudes were completely lovely, the last smores dessert served was absolutely delish and I could indulge in that palate cleanser all day everyday. I also became pretty great friends with the cocktail menu (I’ll admit… a little too good of friends, haha), but woohoo!  NYC evening for the books!

Saturday that little Mard and I went on a fun little journey around the city. We ran into The Strand (third floor is super great!), a few random boutiques and Warby Parker. Hispters galore in that place and I scored some funky new glasses! We also hit up the Papaya King and snacked on hot dogs and papaya juice that makes me fall in love.

Sunday was our little date day. We tried to go to tea but the restaurant was horrifying so we found ourselves at an adorable little crepe place instead. The savory was wonderful and the sweet was holy yum! We walked to the water and later went to see a movie. Lovely day! That night, Mard fed me pizza straight from the heavens. YUM. Mardie-cakes was also lovely enough to work from home Monday morning so that she could help me repack my suitcases, be a superhero in case any last minute disasters arose (as they ALWAYS seem to in my life) and simmer me down a little. What a lovely! We packed, we laughed, we snuggled. She left for work, and I hoisted my two suitcases down her five flights of stairs.

                                                                                                                                                                   

INTERRUPTION: Up until now I was typing away on this little blog entry in the Newark Liberty Airport when suddenly a beautiful Dutch girl sat down across from me. She was chattin’ away in super fast-paced, ecstatic, wonderfully lovely Dutch to her Momma and I, in turn, shut my tunes off and replaced it with her incomprehensible conversation ear candy. Immediately after she hung up the phone she very politely asked if I could look something up on my laptop for her. AND GET THIS: Queen Beatrix had literally just announced her resignation and Holland will soon pass the crown to a Dutch King for the first time in basically forevs (and not to come again anytime soon, for this King has three daughters). And I know that doesn’t sound like the most insane news to all you Americans with your severe lack of royal family, but let me tell you… it is the most insane freakin’ news. And so began my first dip into the pool of Dutch hospitality and my first wonderfully charming Dutchie friendship (can you tell I have a serious girlcrush on her?) But more on that later. I obviously put a stop in this silly blogging thing in order to live a little and am now sitting in a café (not to be confused with those infamous Amsterdam coffeeshops, you rookies) in the Schiphol Airport taking my sweet time to get my bearings (once again, I am overly prepared and have numerous hours to kill, woohoo!) Just a little clarifying of the time and space aspect! But anyway…

                                                                                                                                                                    

So I left off sitting in the walk in of Mard’s apartment building, keeping out of the snow/rain/sleet, periodically peaking for a Super Shuttle.  I then get a phone call: my super shuttle has arrived. I walk outside and all I see is a nondescript black SUV and a plump little man walking towards me with his arms out for my luggage. Ummmmmm? My mind is insanity. Wait... is this the shuttle or is this really just the sketchy black danger van that it seems? Would it be inappropriate to get on the phone, before I enter, in front of this driver, and ask whether or not I am about to meet my doom before I jump headfirst into it? I’m freakin out… so naturally, I hop right in, haha. Things are weird: the driver looks confused by his GPS route, he sort of chuckles and answers, “no one else, just you” when I ask how many other people he is picking up, and I’m breathin’ in a strong mixture of cig smoke and cologne. I’m sitting in the back, alone, frantically texting Mard detailed descriptions of the van, the interior, the driver… anything I can think of that, should it come to it, would enable the NYPD to save me from my kidnapping, or at least avenge my murder.

Mard to the rescue (as usual)! She calls and apparently they were out of shuttles, so I am being treated to the luxury SUV. Wait a minute, I went with this sketchy super shuttle business because I was too cheap to pay for a cab and too lazy to figure out the subway and now I am joyriding in my own private luxury SUV? Wish someone woulda told me and saved me the ten minutes of extreme anxiety and impending wrinkles, but Yeehaw, I’ll take it! Now I’m all kinds of chill. I’m noticing the leather interior and the little suit my driver is wearing, the smooth jazz bumpin’ and the frozen scenery passing out my window (which is way nicer than expected for that sketchy quarry that is Newark, New Jersey (super shoutout to anyone that recognizes this reference!)). That nast odor is even growing on me. And here comes the fun: my lovely little driver pops in his ipod and suddenly we are swaying along to Ray LaMontagne’s Hold You In My Arms. Why hello there, romantic private luxury bliss (accompanied by trace amounts of holy-awkward)! The rest of the journey was equal parts lovely and just a little off.  But thank you, dearest shuttle driver, for the solid tunes and chic ambiance, the (completely unsolicited and random) advice on middle eastern vs. Dutch hash oil and, most importantly, not kidnapping me when you totally could have.

I get to the airport and despite a few minor hiccups (Terminal B. wait, no… airtram to Terminal C; wait, I am flying Lufthansa operated by United… what does that mean? Where am I going? What freakin’ airline am I even taking? What is happening?; etc.) I get to my gate (a solid three hours before it was scheduled to depart, grab a jumbo jamba juice and settle in.

When in to my life walks previously mentioned angel Dutch girl. She was so unbelievably lovely. She told me all about the Dutch royals and how big of a deal this Queen/King thing really is and how amazing it is that I am currently flying to her wonderful little country just in time to be apart of history in the making. We watch the Queen’s resignation speech on my phone, she translates, and I fall in love. With her, with the (soon-to-be-former) Queen Beatrix, with the language, with every single thing she is telling me. For the rest of our time waiting we exchanged stories about each other and she graciously told me all about her extraordinary home. She gave me her business card, shared her carrots with me, and insisted three separate times that if I am ever homesick, have a question, get lost or need absolutely anything (including just someone to take me to do something fun) to give her a call immediately. Seriously, WHAT A BEAUTY. The greatest of all the shoutouts goes to her: thank you, Lotty, for being the most incredible first Dutchie I could have met.

So at this point I am already head over heels in love with literally everything Holland and I haven’t even left New Jersey yet. And with all that love bouncin’ around inside me, I board my plane and settle in for the six and a half hour flight. I don’t sleep at all, but I’m in the aisle seat with an empty middle seat, the flight attendant man keeps sneakin’ me treats and I get a few solid movies in, including Woody Allen’s To Rome With Love (highly recommend).

And now here I am! Sitting in Schiphol airport, sipping a four-euro cappuccino (which I know is ridiculously overpriced, thanks to my new Dutchie bff), watching the sun come up in the loveliest dreary weather. This airport is insane: like something straight outta the future and is chalk full of stroopwafels and adorable Dutch people smiling and happy to help with any of my crazy questions. Once again, I AM HEAD OVER HEELS and I haven’t even left the airport yet! From here I will (hopefully) be finding the right shuttle to the right hotel, go check in, post this (since I currently don’t have wifi), probably take a hot bath and then sleep for days. Small exaggeration but hopefully for a long time cause jet lag is weird and I enjoy sleep. Tomorrow I will be whisked into a full day of orientation craziness and all the loveliness this Holland place has to offer. Here goes!!!

One final shoutout, to the most amazing momma of all the mommas: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for making this little dream of mine a reality. I appreciate you more than any daughter has ever appreciated her mother. <3

LOVE YOU ALL, MISS YOU ALL!

And wishing you a magical day from Holland!

Ps. Future posts will almost positively never be this long and detailed and wonderful. I will surely not have this much time to on my hands in the future, plus you guys probably don’t care to read numerous pages of my adventurous neurosis (snooze button). So when you are pondering whether to ever look at this blog again or not, please keep in mind the amount of time I had to kill and the fact that I am full of jittery excitement/nervousness and was feeling a little extra sassy ;)

Pss. And last, a short letter to any and all of you lovely readers: feel free to visit me. This marvelous place and I are just a (semi)short plane ride away and we promise to have plenty of stroopwafels and fresh tulips waiting for you.

MWAH!

Free People + Amsterdam

What's that Free Peeps? You're doing a small series on the best of the best in Amsterdam throughout the month? And I am coincidentally packing my bags and moving there in two short weeks? 

HELLS YEAH! YEEHAW! YIPPPPEEEEE!