One of our major hurdles in buying a house in Amsterdam was finding a second bedroom with enough space to accommodate both children (a three bedroom was out given our price range, unless we wanted to live well outside the city). And by that I don’t mean loads of floor space for playing. I just mean fitting in two beds. A lot of the second bedrooms in Amsterdam apartments have enough space for a single bed and maybe a small wardrobe or chest of drawers. We thought about bunk beds, but really felt strongly that since our kids are older and it’s already pushing for them to share a room, they each needed a well-defined space of their own.
Actually, I think this is my favorite room in the house. Is there anything more important when it comes to home decor than an inviting bedroom that is a refuge from the entire world outside? For an introvert with insomniac tendencies, I submit that there is not. So here is mine. Red velvet curtains, crisp linen bedclothes, fuzzy throw blanket, and all. I have been in love with this bedroom since the first night I slept in it, or in fact since I first saw it in my mind’s eye before it even existed.
All the little details are what I love. Like our gorgeous mosaic lamps, which I bought off Etsy from a Turkish seller, along with chandelier #1 for the living room, which you did not meet because it did not survive the journey.
One of the things we’ve been meaning to do since we moved to the Netherlands is go to the Keukenhof, the most iconic tulip garden in a country famous for its tulips.
The Keukenhof is open only from March to May. It tends to be crowded on weekends, and ridiculously crowded on Easter weekend, but by all accounts the tulips were in perfect bloom, so we went for it. And sure enough, the place is spectacular. Usually I’m more of a thousand words type of person, but in this case I think I’ll go ahead and stick with the picture(s). Enjoy!
This may be my favourite room in a house full of rooms I love. Having moved over twenty times since we were married in 2003 (I wish I were exaggerating), Tony and I have come to realise that although we have many things in common, our decorating tastes, although overlapping, are not identical. So when we moved into our new house, we decided that we would each get a room to decorate exactly how we pleased. The other party could serve in an advisory capacity, but the person to whom the room belonged had total autonomy when it came to layout and decor. This arrangement has worked out beautifully. So go ahead and step through that right hand door in the hallway to enter my room.
We have now lived in our darling Amsterdam flat for a whole year, so I guess it’s high time to invite you in for a tour.
In order to fully appreciate our house, it’s good to know some stats about it. For instance, it’s a grand total of 72 square metres (775 square feet). I think of it as both a small flat and a really big tiny house. When it comes to functionality, I’d say it definitely feels more like the latter. Over the years, we have spent a lot of time in IKEA showrooms and cleverly designed little European apartments, marvelling over inventive storage solutions and multi-purpose furniture. Our organisational skills have been tested to their limits in this house, and I think we’ve come through victorious.
Surprisingly enough, I have not been obsessing about the lottery every spare moment since we turned in Axa’s form almost a month ago. There were even some times when I forgot about it completely. However, as the time drew near for the blessed event, I did start to think about it more–several times a day by the final week. I had at least one nightmare where she got placed in a school that wasn’t even on her list. I was at pains not to mention the lottery to Axa (well, at least to not bring it up more than once every couple of days), since I didn’t want her to stress about it. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it myself. I don’t do especially well when significant life events are up in the air (who does?), and finding out where Axa would spend the next six years of her life is a significant event. It reminded me a little of when I was Mormon, and we turned in our mission papers, and then waited for that big white envelope that would tell us where in the world we would be going.
Before I start I just have to say that this is kind of a vulnerable post. It’s a topic that is fracturing my entire self-concept and leaves me feeling very open to criticism. I don’t know why I’m writing it at all, except that I spend so much time thinking about it. So anyway.
A few weeks ago, an article titled Are We Different People in Different Languages? was circulating Facebook amongst various of my international friends. It’s a brilliant article on creative writing and multilingualism, and I recommend it if you’re interested in either of those subjects. But the discussion online was centred mostly on the title of the article. Several of my friends agreed that yes, people had told them their personality changed based on which language they were speaking. Some languages, it seems, brought out people’s funny side, while others made them more assertive or outgoing. Personally, I recall being very flirty in Arabic (a million years ago when I used to still be able to speak Arabic), which was not necessarily the ideal personality emphasis for a young Western woman in the Arab world.
I am usually not the one in this house who goes on business trips. Because they are just not really a thing when you work part-time at a small nonprofit with a small nonprofit budget. While Tony’s business trips do occasionally include some perks for me, usually I’m the one at home single parenting while he’s gone. Which is OK. It’s part of the life I’ve chosen, and I don’t mind too much being home alone with my (increasingly independent) children when Tony travels.
Ever since we bought our new house I’ve been meaning to go down to the city archives and look up our address to see if any old photographs existed of our house. A couple of days ago, somebody told me that the city archives have a website where you can do just that from the comfort of your own home. And I immediately began planning this blog post, in which I go around our neighborhood and take then-and-now photos to match the ones in the archive. So welcome to a trip down memory lane and a glimpse of the Schinkelbuurt of yesterday.
When I did the obligatory unofficial Facebook poll of what to do in London, the two most recommended must-visits were Camden Market and the V&A. Camden Market will, alas, have to wait until a less grey and drizzly day. But as you know, I am always up for another museum, especially if it involves history or the fine arts. Or both, as the V&A does. It is a wonderful museum, and I heartily add my voice to the recommendations next time you are in London.
The 1899 ceremony in which the foundation stone of the museum’s current building was laid turned out to be Queen Victoria’s last public appearance, and it was then that it officially received its name, the Victoria & Albert Museum. It’s a perfect place to explore at random, which we did, although in the end I believe we saw almost the entire museum. The exhibit themes range from time periods (e.g. 1300-1600) to geographical areas (e.g. Korea or the Middle East) to artistic media (e.g. ceramics or glass).