Saturday 29 March 2014

IKEA: Sweden's Most Dangerous Export

IKEA is fairly familiar to us all. A beacon of blue and yellow on the edges of retail parks that draws in the Saturday crowds. Low price, ready to assemble furniture that is stylishly simple - what's not to like? Would you believe IKEA was founded by Swedish Ingvar Kamprad at 17 years old in 1943? Remarkable.

The owners of where I'm currently living are enamoured with IKEA, as everything in the house from bathroom to kitchen to bedroom is from there. Not to upset the theme I decided to go have a look. I needed a chair and possibly a stool as well. Nothing grand, nothing expensive, just functional. Easy, right?

The Groningen IKEA is only about twenty minutes walking from where I live, so on this sunny Saturday, I decided to go out in search of chairs and stools. I've been to IKEA in Sweden once before and was very impressed (and overwhelmed), but only just to have a look. It is quite a different thing when you're actually in search of something.

The layout of IKEAs are in a long, rambling sort of one way path (what I like to think of as "The Long Wander" but the Swedes call "The Long Natural Way"). You can dump your kids at the Småland play area and then continue up to show floor. It begins with simple examples of how your living room could look, with chic sofas and throw pillows. As you wander further in, it moves to kitchens, bathrooms, offices, bedrooms and so on...each section full of show models. You begin to think, this would be perfect for my house! at every step.

And here is where it becomes Dangerous. No, no I didn't get lost (they provide maps as you go - brilliant!). I went in for a chair and stool as previously mentioned, and I left, almost two hours later, having completely designed in my mind my future house for my future family with three kids, a dog and two cats. Yep, from the bedding and curtains to the wood floor, chandeliers, kitchen counter tops...even the garden furniture...the perfect desk and filing system, the best bedroom set, the towels and hangers...

It was the most splendid fun. I did finally get out alive with my chair and stool. It's all "self serve" - you must jot down the item number on a piece of IKEA paper with an IKEA pencil (provided every few metres for your convenience) and then go to the long rows of ceiling high shelves at the end of the Long Wander to find your bit of furniture. It's less of a retail store and more a long sequence of showrooms. There is even a restaurant where you can recoup after the showroom extravaganza, and a food hall where you can buy Swedish meatballs and Lingonberry jam. 

The stool is only slightly wobbly...
The fun doesn't stop there, however. I trudged home with the bits of furniture under my arms (only garnering a few strange looks), clambered up the Stairs of Death, and arrived breathless and perspiring from the spring sun and exertion. But before I could congratulate myself on my new purchases, I had to put the ruddy things together...the prices are low for a reason - you've got to do all the work! Armed with only a Swiss Army knife I realised I was going to need some help. I knocked up number 14 and asked the cute boys there if I could borrow a screwdriver and wrench. 

Thus armed with tools, I began Stage Two of the IKEA adventure. I am currently sprawled on my IKEA sofa, admiring my handiwork. The stool wobbles only slightly and the chair is stable enough. Feeling rather exhausted, I'm resolved not to move unless absolutely necessary. The rest of my planning for the future IKEA infused house will have to wait...



Thursday 27 March 2014

Travelling Solo: A Retreat from all but Yourself

It's sunny here in Groningen. Sunny, warm, and expected to stay that way all the way through next week. I think we can safely say, "Spring is here!" The city seems to take on a new buzz as the weather changes towards spring - happy faces and bright outfits - which only makes me the happier and brighter too.

It was on this slight euphoria of sunshine! that I have been sat contemplating the solo lifestyle. Not just travel, but living alone and generally being alone. I. Love. It. I know it isn't for everyone, but I seem to thrive being on my own. I'm never bored and I get to do what I want to do all the time. It's like having every childhood dream come true: I can eat peanut butter from the jar, run up and down the stairs as I please, and go to bed past a 'decent' hour. For the most part being an adult is overwhelming (there is that word, responsibility, that keeps coming up), but it can also be really, jolly good fun. Travelling on my own, for example...

The reason I'm going off on this slight tangent is that I read an blog article last night about No Guilt Solo Travel. I had never even thought about this concept that others might see your decision to travel alone as a negative thing. It quite obviously started me thinking. The blog outlines six points which I'd like to share:
1) Travel solo to free others from guilt, 2) Travel solo for more happiness, 3) Travel solo to rejuvenate, 4) Travel solo to avoid frustrating others, 5) Travel solo as a gift to others, and finally 6) Travel solo because the guilt is unnecessary.

You might be thinking, "yes, but I've got a partner and two kids, I can't just hop on a plane to Bora Bora..." and I would agree - family is important and must be a priority. However, what I think the point really is is that we shouldn't feel guilty for wanting to run off to Bora Bora for a week on our own.
I especially like point number five: Travel solo as a gift to others. I had never considered this before. The joy that I get from travelling solo and the exciting experiences I have is something I can bring home to share. How can brimming over with happiness and feeling rejuvenated not be good for those around you?

Solo travel has become much easier since travel in general has become less of a hassle (security at airports aside...). It is fair to say that if you are in a group of friends or with family you won't all want to do the same things; some people (though I can't fathom why) hate museums, so there will have to be some give and take (point 4). Others might not even want to travel, and would rather you did, in fact, go on your own (point 1).

For me, travelling is a way to rejuvenate and find an inner peace (points 2 and 3). I am always happy to be travelling because of the sheer beauty of it. I don't mean scenery; I mean the beauty of travel as an action. Is it not lovely to take trains, buses, tuk tuks, boats, or camels to your destination - isn't that part of the fun? Travel has become easy, but thank goodness it hasn't lost its beauty and magic in doing so.

The Netherlands, as we know, is a small country - by train you can get across it in three hours. The last few weekends I've been to-ing and fro-ing back and forth across the country on trains and boats, and I realised how much I love the serenity of watching the world go by. For a few hours I can sit and watch the scenery change or see people getting on and off at platforms (people watching is a splendid past time of The Traveller), or even just read my book in peace. We are so busy in our day to day lives and often distracted by computers, that to just have a few hours to oneself to think or to read is a blessing.

Travelling on your own is a wonderful experience: you become self reliant, you learn so much about yourself in the process, you get to be your own person, you become a wizard at taking 'selfies', and generally you have an enjoyable time. You get to do all those things you want to do. I can't say enough positive things about it. I would implore you to try it at least once, even if it is just taking a train to another city or driving to see a rock formation in the desert. You can retreat from the world and finally be with yourself. And I hope you will find, as I do, how fantastic an experience it truly is.

Monday 17 March 2014

Boekenweek: A week of literary abandon in Nederland

Anyone who knows me realises I love books. I even put off using a Kindle until recently. I couldn't bear the thought of not having a book with real pages. It was rather pig headed of me, I realise, since an ebook (like Kindles and such) are really just the MP3 players of the book world. And being an avid traveller makes it ideal. (There, I've said it...)

I was concerned about not having access to enough books in English when I moved to the Netherlands. I couldn't just nip down to Oxfam to find a book on the cheap whenever the mood struck. Then I thought perhaps libraries might be the answer, as people in the Netherlands are incredibly bilingual and put the rest of us to shame. But one must join a library for a fee here, so that was temporarily put on hold too. And in the bookshops I noticed the English books are terribly overpriced (import tax?). At least I wasn't spending a fortune on books. I began to fear my literary life here in the Netherlands was going to be rather dull.

However, I've since been busy with a Dutch course and someone rather sensible (my mother, most likely) pointed out that reading helps with many aspects of learning a language. I'd been making headway with children's books, which is all well and good, but I would prefer to sink my teeth in to something. So, it was with determination last week that I went down to the bookshop.

March 8-16 was Boekenweek (Bookweek) here in the Netherlands. There are other places that have such events, but I must say I was quite impressed. The whole country seemed to get behind it: there were literary programs on television, interviews with Dutch authors, author visits/talks at bookshops, as well as events in libraries and schools. Best of all: if you spent 12.50 Euros on a book, you got a novella for free. (Which, in the Netherlands, is pretty incredible. Nothing is ever for free here.) And before you think, "oh, if it's free it's probably rubbish," - No! In fact, the novella this year was by a popular Dutch author, Tommy Wieringa (even I knew his name) and I've been plodding along and enjoying it immensely. Finally! I can sink my teeth into a real grown up book: in Dutch! And I don't feel nearly as intimidated because it is a novella. I only have to despair for 150 pages....

The bookshops were having a field day!
However, the loveliness doesn't stop there. I went to the bookshop and bought a nice copy of a classic young adult book in Dutch called Oorlogswinter about World War II here in the Netherlands; I got a free book because of this purchase; and inside that free book, was a bookmark which allowed me to travel for FREE anywhere in the Netherlands by train on Sunday, the last day of Boekenweek.

Incredible.

The shops were doing a roaring trade and even young people (who I perhaps unfairly tarnish with the same brush of being glued to their iPhones) were reading in the trains and on benches in parks. There was truly a buzz whipping across the nation. It was a wonderful sight to see on Sunday in the train home: at least 80 percent of the carriage held up the novella and bookmark. We caught each other's eyes and smiled, like we were part of some elite group. Discussions were breaking out all over the place about the novella, how far are you, what do you think of it? and so on.

I have now revised my opinion of my literary journey here in the Netherlands. I clearly underestimated the Dutch on this point. I'm off to plod through another chapter of my FREE novella, Een Mooie Jonge Vrouw. Let's hope I get my verb conjugations right...

To see more about Boekenweek, click here.

Sunday 9 March 2014

Holland's Heatwave

The weather has been so very odd this winter. It is now the beginning of March and the Netherlands is in a sudden heat wave. (And by heat wave, I mean warm for both season and place...) In Amsterdam and other cities in the south, temperatures are up to 19/20C (about 65-68F) today! Here in the north we are about 15/18C (59-64F). I went out at midday to the Grote Markt to soak up the sun. I even had on short sleeves! It was about 15C (about 60F) with a gorgeous, fresh, southerly wind. The streets were quiet, but the outdoor cafes were cramming in chairs into every bit of sun they could, and doing a roaring trade.

Grote Markt "bleachers"
It was lovely to sit and watch the world go by on a quiet Sunday. Families and friends were milling about or having lunch on the wooden "bleachers" in the Grote Markt. Lots of rather young couples with small toddlers. Parents seem to be getting younger and younger (or maybe I'm just getting older...or both...). Dashing, twenty something dads with beards and sunglasses, carrying young sir/madam in a 'Baby Bjorn'. Very cool. I like it. In fact, all the children I saw today were being looked after by the dads. From wee babes to toddling toddlers. Allowing poor mums to finally read a book or eat with both hands free!

The Dutch have this rather interesting (and sometimes annoying) habit of scheduling. If you want to hang out, you had better make sure it was decided about two weeks previously and that is was written in their agenda. It is the most disconcerting thing when you say, "Hey, let's get together soon." "Yes, let's." Out comes the agenda (usually on phones these days)..."How about next week or the end of the month?" Sorry, what?

So, on days like today, I find it very amusing that people take a whole hour out of their day to sit in the sun and people watch or drink a coffee. But I really like it - at least here people know how to enjoy themselves. And not like, "oh isn't this a treat!?" but more in the fashion of, "of course I'm enjoying myself; this is normal." Even the teenagers put away their mobile phones for half a minute!

This was thrown together two days ago for the good weather!
It has been a week of pleasant weather, and during the middle of the week I found it incredible that at two o'clock in the afternoon, people were sitting down enjoying a glass of wine and a bit of sun on a cafe terrace. It makes you wonder if anyone works! But, the Dutch are in fact, extraordinarily hard working. The Netherlands are also in the top five "Happiest Countries." I think the secret lies in their agendas...perhaps they are, in fact, scheduling in free time for themselves to simply enjoy life.   

Time to kick back, have a beer, and enjoy the beautiful, blue sky weather, wouldn't you say?

Tuesday 4 March 2014

This Little Piggy Went to Market...

I managed to pick up some sort of Belgian sniffle on my travels, and was feeling very sorry for myself this morning after a rotten night's sleep. The sun was shining insistently through my skylights, however, drawing me out into the day. Deciding a bit of sun would be just the ticket, I packed my Doctor Who Tardis travel mug with strong tea and set off with my camera. Who says you can't have an adventure on a Tuesday morning?

Vismarkt Groningen
Knowing the markets would be up and bustling by this hour, I went straight to the Grote Markt, suddenly ravenous (feeling better, obviously!). There are Belgian waffle stands, fresh fish and patat stands, even a German kurryworst stand, which may seem like an odd thing for ten o'clock in the morning. There is everything imaginable at the markets available for purchase: long, flowing scarves, sheep skins, trousers, slippers, batteries, flowers, some rather dodgy looking make-up, jewellery; at the Vismarkt you can find all sorts of fruits and veg, fresh fish, meats, cheese by the tonne, and what I was after: baked goods.

I had a craving for anything apple and cake-like. (Which I explained in Dutch to the young baker, who I think found the request amusing...) Anyway, for 2 Euros I walked away with a massive Dutch pastry called Appelflap and an apple tart. At the bottom of the Grote Markt is the Tourist Information building. It's one of those horrible, modern design things that I usually can't stand. On one side of the building are what I would describe as wooden bleachers, where you can sit enjoying the sun and people watching. (I saw plenty of red trousers, but had my hands full of pastry and couldn't snap a photo...)

Grote Markt food stalls
 The morning was glorious. The sun was warm and there was mercifully no cold wind like yesterday. Groningen seems to blossom under the sun, streets bustling and people standing about enjoying coffee's and cigarettes. I felt so lucky to be sitting enjoying a spot of morning sunshine, stuffing myself chock full of delicious goodies in a city quickly becoming spring like.

You know spring is on the way when the cafes begin setting out small tables and chairs on the pavement. The place suddenly looks like Paris!


Spring in the Martinikerkhof
 After enjoying myself immensely for nearly an hour, I headed back home (only a five minute walk!) via the Martinikerkhof. It's a sort of courtyard behind the spire and great bulk of the Martini church, full of lovely paths to wander. Here, spring was in evidence through the many flowers. Crocuses, Snowdrops, Daffodils...really pretty. It was very quiet, even on such a beautiful morning.

Next to this garden of sorts, is the Provinciehuis (Province House). Groningen is the capital of the Groningen Province, so all the top brass come here to make decisions. What I later read was that Groningen is only Province in the Netherlands to have used the same building since the 1600s! Inside, apparently, are loads of paintings and beautiful architecture. The oldest part of the building was built in the 15th Century and was used as a Latin School.

It is fairly impressive. They even have their own turret! I get to walk past this building everyday to go in to town, and I love walking under the archway. It reminds me of my old town of Cambridge, and on some days has a very Harry Potter look about it.

Provinciehuis Groningen
 That being said, even though I walk past it everyday, I realised I've missed things. I had my eyes open today, seeing Groningen in a new light. There was a plaque on the wall of the Province House that I've missed consistently for a month.  It said "Thank you Canada", and coming closer I saw there was a message underneath. Translated, it says, "This former State Archive Building was, during heavy fighting on April 18, 1945, surrendered by the German occupiers to the Canadian Army."

Such history on just one street! I'm very glad I took an hour out of my morning to have a wander. Pastries aside, I did actually learn something. Only five minutes from my front door is a teeming city full of a history I'm only just discovering.



Saturday 1 March 2014

A Visit to Flanders Fields

When one hears "Flanders" one often makes the immediate association with the Great War. A young doctor by the name of John McCrae wrote a famous poem called, "In Flanders Fields", which every school child is tasked with reading, and thus poppies, mud, trenches, and Flanders are things that bring to mind the Great War. One hundred years ago, on July 28, 1914, the First World War officially began. One hundred years ago - it really isn't that long ago, is it? I will not pretend that this blog post will not be a sombre one. I found the time I spent around Ieper incredibly moving and very interesting, and would like to share it with you.

One hundred years ago...When these sorts of anniversary's come about lots of commemorative events are set in motion. Currently the BBC is awash with programming about the Great War. I've always been curious about seeing Flanders, wondering what it must look like now after 99 years of rebuilding and modernity have occurred. On my sojourn to Belgium I decided a visit to Ieper (Ypres) was a must. The Front Lines.

I had to change trains twice to get to Ieper, even though by a car it's only an hour on a main road from Brugge. My second train was late by about five minutes, so I missed my connection and had to wait in a dismal train station in Kortrijk. The rain, mere drizzle when I left Brugge, was now bucketing down, and I had a sudden vision of what our men might have experienced back in 1914. The cold, driving Belgian rain. It was not hard to imagine a poor Tommy (British soldier) standing in the rain in a Greatcoat, waiting to be shipped off to the Front Lines. As it was, I waited an hour for the next train, missing my chance to visit the "In Flanders Field Great War Museum".

This is the Cathedral the town of Ieper rebuilt
By the time I arrived in Ieper, the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. (I always have been lucky with the weather...). I had booked a tour through a small local company, and I was joined by a Swedish family of three who seemed impervious to the cold. Our guide, Jacques, was extremely knowledgeable about the history of the Great War, the battles around Ieper specifically, and had a fantastic stock of stories from veterans that he had met through his work. Having met up at the Grote Markt in Ieper, Jacques said that even though the centre of town looked old, it was in fact only 80-90 years old. It had all been rebuilt after the war because all that had been left was rubble and mud. He showed us a picture of the Cathedral as it had been in 1919 - the town rebuilt it in 8 years. Incredible!

We started at an ADS (Advanced Dressing Station) near an important canal, called "Essex Farm," where Dr John McCrae wrote the aforementioned poem. Our guide pulled out maps and photos, showing us just how close the trenches of the Allies and the Germans were in this particular area (they converged at one point, leaving only 18 metres of No Man's Land (about 60 feet)! Can you believe it? Being an ADS, there was a cemetery attached with about 1200 men, one grave being a boy of 15. He'd lied about his age to join up.

A Flander's field - look at that mud!
We discussed the use of gas; when it was first used, how it was used and so on. Awful. We were in a minivan, driving down country lanes "behind German lines". What is incredible is how flat the area really is. Of course it is now full of farms, fields, small villages and the rest, but one can still see how it might have been. (And the mud is still as sticky!)

Jacques stopped the car and pointed - there in front of us, looming in such a flat landscape, was Passschendaele Ridge. We approached from the "German side" and began to understand the advantage of high ground - even a few metres is enough. We drove along the death trap that had been the Menin Road and through "Hell Fire Corner". Near the top of the ridge is the vast Tyne-Cot cemetery - it is built around German bunkers on the land that the Australian and New Zealand troops captured in 1917 at a terrible cost of lives. Below lies the Ieper Salient (a salient is a term that, in this case, is used to describe the bulge that juts out from the Front Line trenches) which is also vast. Over 35,000 men are buried there, the majority unknown.

Tyne-Cot Cemetery
Jacques, our guide, was very keen to stress the importance of the work that is done to keep up the graves and cemeteries (in which there are hundreds in the area of Ieper alone). 'It means so much to the families when they visit, to know their loved ones are being looked after,' he said. During our tour, listening to him relate the history, the battles, hearing him reel of the numbers, the cemeteries and dugouts and scars of trenches spoke for themselves.

We visited a museum on Hill 62 (as in 62 meters above sea level and therefore a strategic point). They had tons of memorabilia found in the fields by farmers, and things donated by families of soldiers. They also had photos, seen by peering into wooden boxes, of the most ghastly things. Pictures that were not published in any newspaper at the time. The death and destruction was immense. All mud and rubble and boys with gaping holes that left you thinking, "where's the rest of them...?"
Trenches at Hill 62

It was not an easy thing to see; I focused on the facts and figures, putting aside emotion until I could fathom it later. I spent the afternoon with a lump in my throat, freezing, and more than a little overwhelmed. The vastness of it...the massive loss of life...numbers that cannot fully be understood until you see the white stones, row on row on row, going on until the horizon. I made a point to wander through the headstones, reading names and wondering where they were from and who they had been. Boys, 19 and 20 many of them; mother's sons every one.

Perhaps you may be asking is this really "taking a holiday"... but, I find it important to see: history comes alive when one visits places like this, and one can see how it is so much a part of the local people's lives - even still today. The care and respect that is taken in looking after the area is truly remarkable. And even though I went home covered in mud, still freezing, and feeling a bit overwhelmed, I had enjoyed myself immensely because I had learnt a great deal. And not just about history. About ourselves as well. History shapes us, whether we like it or not, and it is only by gaining understanding about our past can we even hope to succeed in the future.