Weekend in London
Friday morning I was all in a rush to get Andy to school so that I could get everything ready for a long weekend in London. Allan was already there for work so all we had to do was hop on a plane and meet him.

After dropping Andy off at his class I waited outside another classroom because I wanted to talk to someone. As I was standing there waiting for her it felt like one boot heel was shorter than the other. Thinking that the heel sole had come off I looked down. That wasn’t the problem. I had on one black boot with a round toe and a stacked heel and one brown boot with a wedge heel and a pointy toe. What a great beginning of the day! Rather than trying to hide it I pointed it out to everyone standing around and gave a little smile and shrug.

Fueled with three cups of coffee I rushed around to the gym, showered and did some housework. I looked up at the clock and it was already time to pick Andy up! But I couldn’t find my car keys. Go figure. I always keep an extra set in my bag so I just used those.

There was a Chinese group in front of me checking in. Evidently the Chinese have no idea how to wait in line. The flight was pretty uneventful until the landing. As we approached London City airport a storm front was rolling in. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a white knuckle landing before. A lady behind us would scream, ‘Oh!’ Every time we’d hit one of those little stomach lurking air pockets. When leaving the airport I slung my handbag over my shoulder and it fell to the floor. The strap had broken. Oh goodie! I get to go shopping for a new one!

It poured rain as Andy and I made out way to the Shell building outside Waterloo station. I kept calling Allan on my mobile but I didn’t see hide nor hair of the distinctive yellow scallop shell logo. Finally Al just came and we walked to the hotel. The walk would have been stunning if it hadn’t been raining so hard or if we were properly dressed for wet weather.

We made a brief stop and then turned around to catch a taxi to our friend’s house. They have a little boy so Andy had a friend to play with. We caught up over pizza and some very nice red wine. The boys hit it off immediately.

We stayed over night with our friends. In the morning we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of bagels with cream cheese, washed down with gallons of lovely hot tea.

Saturday found us at the London Dungeon. Andy adores Halloween and all things ghoulish. I wonder what the plague victims would think of their misery being turned into a tourist attraction? The first exhibits were cheesy/funny but the end is a bit of a downer with gory details of Jack the Ripper and Sweeney Todd. The actors at each station really liked to pick on some mouthy boys standing in the front. Thank goodness our little jewel was not among them.

I burnt my tongue on some ‘white’ (with milk) tea and then…

We walked to the giant Ferris wheel (the “Eye”) built to celebrate the turn of the century. The lines were very long but Andy insisted. Everything seemed mind boggling expensive. So while Al & Andy waited patiently I went to look for an ATM. I found one but the software ‘hung’ and kept my card. I called the phone number on the machine with my mobile and the lady said it would time out after 5-20 minutes and I’d get my card back. Let me tell you that was a tense wait!

We had plenty of time so we made out way over to Waterloo station where Andy devoured and entire McMenu. Notice I didn’t say a Happy Meal. He ate an entire adult meal which didn’t leave much for mom & dad to pick at.

It was a beautiful clear day and the people watching was terrific! I saw staggeringly attractive people and fantastically unattractive people. I thought, ‘thank goodness the skinny jean fad is NOT catching on.’ Finally, at dusk we boarded our capsule to get a bird’s eye view of London. For about half an hour we were transported in a transparent ‘bean’ up where we could see much of the city.

We stopped at St. Martin in the Field for an afternoon tea. When I got to the counter I forgot the word ‘scone’ and asked for one of those biscuity things. How embarrassing. I had my heart set on afternoon tea but the meal looked wonderful, especially the dessert of apple crumble with custard. Maybe later.

The Lion King started at 7:30. You know I didn’t have any fear of heights in the Eye but the steep seating in the theater was a bit daunting.

The music was wonderful and the animal costumes were so creative and unusual. There was a lady narrator with an incredibly big voice. Andy started to fade after the intermission but the colorful costumes and African music kept him engaged until the end.

The next morning we found an old haunt from some of our previous trips- The Stockpot where we ate an inexpensive and filling breakfast. There were a bunch of men behind us who kept ordering heaping plates of food. When we got up to leave I saw that they were street workers. I guess it’s okay. They’ll definitely work it off!

Our friends said Andy could join their son in Sunday morning soccer practice. As it was a sunny and clear morning we all enjoyed getting out in the park for a bit. Church bells were pealing as the boys started their warm up. The adults made their way over to the café for some coffee and tea.

After practice we found a local restaurant for brunch. I couldn’t pass up the apple strudel with custard. Then we rode the bus to Hamley’s toy store. I think Hamley’s on a Sunday not too long before Christmas is a bit like banging your head against a wall. It feels really good when you stop. It was very crowded but they boys did get to point out some things they wouldn’t mind Santa bringing them.

We parted from our friends after a stroll down Carnaby street. Al took us to the airport. I couldn’t bring myself to pay £3.20 for a magazine. Everything went smoothly until we were back in Holland. Andy did ask if he could got to soccer practice in London every weekend. They were working on the train lines between the airport and where we live so we had to take a detour train to get home. Not fun when you have baggage and a sleepy/tired child.

The first thing I did was tuck my zombie child into bed, then I unloaded the car and tried to wind down myself.

More pictures

It was inevitable.

Last week Andy' school had a special session on road safety. The police came to school and explained the rules. And they had some fun.

Phantoms in the Brain

by

V.S. Ramachandran MD, PHD & Sandra Blakeslee

book review.

I found this book fascinating. Ramachandran is a neurologist who studies people with damaged brains to discover how healthy brains work.

Much of this book is taken up with the persistence of body image. He writes mostly of it in terms of phantom limbs but also with stroke victims who lose the use of something on one side of their body.

It appears that our brains are constantly trying to make things, stories and ourselves ‘whole’. And it’s not above using subterfuge for this. Freud names the following devices:

Denial, Repression, Reaction formation, Rationalization, Humor, Projection

These can be useful ways for our brains to value wholeness over the truth.

The book talks about patients with damage to the right parietal lobe which results in neglect of the left side.

Neglect stories are very popular with medical students. Oliver Sacks tells the strange tale of a woman who, like many left hemineglect patients, ate food only from the right side of her plate. But she knew what was up and realized that if she wanted all her dinner, she had to shift her head, so as to see the food on the left. But given her general indifference to the left and reluctance even to look to the left she adopted a comically ingenious solution. She rolled her wheelchair in a huge circle to the right, traveling 340 degrees or so until finally her eyes would fall on the uneaten food. That consumed, she’d make another rotation, to eat the remaining half of the food on her plate, and so on, round and round, until it was gone. It never occurred to her that she could just turn left—for her—the left simply didn’t exist.

Ramachandran mentions a way to strip one of ones delusions, albeit sometimes only temporarily.

There are people who deny that they are paralyzed. Ramachandran wondered if the truth about their disability was buried somewhere in their brains.

The experiments we discussed earlier suggest that a denial patient is not just trying to save face; the denial is anchored deep in her psyche. But doe this imply that the information about her paralysis is locked away somewhere—repressed? Or does it imply that the information doesn’t exist anywhere in her brain? The latter view seems unlikely. If the knowledge doesn’t exist, why does the patient say things like “I tied my shoelaces with both my hands” or “I can’t wait to get back to two-fisted beer drinking”? And why evasive remarks like “I’m not ambidextrous”? Comments like these imply that “somebody” in there knows she is paralyzed, but that the information is not available to the conscious mind. If so, is there some way to access that forbidden knowledge?

To find out we took advantage of an ingenious experiment preformed in 1987 by an Italian neurologist, Eduardo Bisiach, on a patient with neglect and denial. Bisiach took a syringe filled with ice-cold water and irrigated the patient’s left ear canal—a procedure that tests vestibular nerve function. Within a few seconds the patient’s eyes started to move vigorously in a process called nystagmus. The cold water sets up a convection current in the ear canals, thereby fooling the brain into thinking the head is moving and into making involuntary correctional eye movements that we call nystagmus. When Bisiach then asked the denial patient whether she could use her arms, she calmly replied that she had no use of her left arm! Amazingly, the cold water irrigation of the left ear had brought about a complete (though temporary) remission from the anosognosia.**

I also started wondering about anorexia nervosa. These patients have disturbances in appetite but are also delusional about their body image—claiming actually to “see” that they are fat when looking into a mirror, even though they are grotesquely thin. Is the disorder of appetite (linked to feeding and satiety centers in the hypothalamus) primarily, or does the body image distortion cause the appetite problem?

We know that certain parts of the limbic system such as the insular cortex are connected to the hypothalamic “appetite” centers and also to parts of the parietal lobes concerned with body image. Is it conceivable that how much you eat over a long period of time, your intellectual beliefs about whether you are too fat or thin, your perception of your body image and your appetite are all more closely linked in your brain that you realize—so that a distortion of one of the these systems can lead to a pervasive disturbance in the others as well?

People have become increasingly inpatient with Western medicine’s sterility and lack of compassion, and this would explain the current resurgence of “alternative medicine”. But unfortunately, even though the remedies touted by new Age gurus have a ring of plausibility, they are rarely subjected to rigorous tests. We have no idea which ones (if any) work and which ones do not, although even the hardened skeptic would agree that there is probably something interesting going on. If we are to make any headway, we need to test these claims carefully and explore the brain mechanisms that underlie such effects. …Until we have clear answers, to these questions, Western medicine and alternative medicine will always remain parallel enterprises with no point of contact between them.

So with all this evidence starting them in the face, why do practitioners of Western medicine continue to ignore the many striking examples of direct links between mind and body?

To understand why, it helps to have a feel for how scientific knowledge progresses. Most of the day-to-day progress of science depends on simply adding another brick to the great edifice—a rather humdrum activity that the late historian Thomas Kuhn called “normal science”. This corpus of knowledge, incorporated a number of widely accepted beliefs, is, in each instance, called a “paradigm.” Year after year new observations come along and are assimilated into an existing standard model. Most scientists are bricklayers, not architects; they are happy simply adding another stone to the cathedral.

Ironically, after extensive training in Western medicine and more than fifteen years of research on neurological patients and visual illusions, I have come to realize that there is much truth to the view—that the notion of a single unified self “inhabiting” the brain may indeed be an illusion. …(as has long been emphasized by Eastern mystical traditions like Hinduism and Zen Buddhism). Once you realize that far from being a spectator, you are in fact part of the eternal ebb and flow of events in the cosmos, this realization is very liberating.

** anosognosia-the inability to perceive that one side of one’s own body is paralyzed

Summer vacation.

DH came home early after damaging the boat. Nothing serious. But that meant he was around for the first week of summer vacation. DS (dear son) spent the first week of the holiday in sailing camp with his two friends. It was hot! hot! hot! So they were allowed to swim after sailing lessons. We are very proud!

End of school year go cart race:

Every year, Andy's school ends the year with a go cart race. Andy and his friend Jesse decide to bulld a rocket ship for the theme, transportation (movement?) Here is Jesse and Andy posing before the race. Notice the pony keg on the back of the 'rocket ship':


Just Andy. Notice the quick and dirty spaceman costume made from tin foil:

The race is on! It is timed. They are wearing skiing helmets covered with more...tin foil!


Oh no! Andy steers them into a bail of hay! Jesse is the power pushing the vehicle:

Thursday 20^th July, 2006.

Andy had decided to enter his school’s annual year end go cart race with a friend named Jesse. Luckily, that friend had a toy tractor to use as a cart. With the help of Jesse’s father the boys decided to build a rocket for the theme of transportation.

Andy and Jesse colored some cardboard to attach to the sides of their vehicle. Jesse’s father fashioned a ‘rocket’ out of two old buckets that he found at the dump. He tied two pony kegs on the back as ‘oxygen’ tanks. Jesse’s mother covered two t-shirt with aluminum foil. I covered two skiing helmets with foil.

About +/- 70 vehicles lined up the afternoon of the race. There was a preponderance of KLM planes. There were lots of Boings and one piper cub. It was an unseasonably hot day. The school had arranged to have ice cream distributed about every 45 minutes to cool the kids off. And some of the older kids were armed with plant misters to spray the crowd.

I felt itchy and antsy at the start. Where was Mary rose Hullman? Who was gonna say, ‘gentlemen start your engines?’ I’m a hopeless Hoosier.

Andy and Jesse lined up at the start line. They were number two. The carts didn’t race against each other- just the clock. Jesse pushed while Andy steered- right into one of the bales of hay lining the track!

We loaned the foil covered helmets to some other boy. Their cart was also a rocket and they wanted to dress the part as much as possible.

A break was held between the running of the older and younger kids. A dance troop performed. One little girl in the front was truly amazing, she didn’t seem to be aware of how hot it was.

Once all the little kids were done I noticed that the older student’s carts were much sleeker. I think they were build for speed. Not so with the younger group. There was a bride and groom cart. And a fairy cart. Actually there were lots of fairy carts. One fairy cart threw handfuls of rose petals as she navigated the turns. Not fast but certainly with style.

Like I said a there were many, many KLM planes. This allowed the child to wear their dad’s pilot cap and coat. Alarmingly many of the ‘aircraft’ fell apart shortly after crossing the start line.

Also among the field was a quite impressive array of carts done up as boats. One had sails made from obsolete sailing charts, very clever recycling.

Jesse and Andy didn’t have the fasted time, they were second which earned them an honorable mention.

Lunch at Luden'sMy mission if I chose to accept it was to spend one of my €25 gift certificates for a lunch at Luden’s restaurant & Brasserie in Utrecht. I was up for the challenge after getting a good report from my thyroid doctor earlier that same morning.

First of all there is no secret. No French Paradox. No convoluted reason French (or European for that matter) women don’t get fat. They simply eat non-retarded portions of real food. Myself, I ever despair of mastering moderation.

The special salad for the day was smoked salmon with a lemon crème fraiche. I ordered that with a glass of Bourgogne Pinot Noir.

I settled in with my generous glass of red wine and one of the complimentary magazines. This wine in a round full-bodies red. Rich and smooth. You could get delightfully lost in the complicated flavor of this wine like you could get lost in the stax at the library. (gonna send that one in to the Bulwer-Lytton competition).

My salad came and it was the usual high Luden quality. I was a bit puzzled by the cashew nuts. I’m thinking walnuts might have been better. But you’ve got to let a chef experiment sometimes, no? It seemed to be goat cheese day I noticed. Everyone else in the brasserie appeared to have ordered either a goat cheese salad or a sandwich.

I polished off most of the yummy dark bread with the real salted butter and then ordered a cognac with a cappuccino. Too late I realized I still had enough on my gift certificate to order the luxury cognac. Anyway the one I got was excellent. I love the way cognac coats your tongue with fire. Like a roaring aromatic wood fire. Turkish brandy is like a gas fire. French cognac is like the heat of passion, desire, eureka! and serendipity. (more Bulwer-Lytton fodder). I enjoyed it.

With the change from the meal I bought a berry smoothie to have on the train home.

Thanks for the gift certificate. The good news is that I still have another one!

It was a dark and stormy afternoon...

for Andy's last and 3rd and last 7th birthday party. The first had been on the day with mom & dad, the second on a weekend with the neighbors. This one was with seven of his friends from school.

The invitations were designed (by me with a line drawn castle on the front) & redesigned by Andy with a scary ghost on the front, signed sealed and delivered. Delivered by hand, by me, by bike on a very pretty day.

I quizzed some other mom’s about the castle tour Andy wanted for his party. Allan did some digging and found out the details.

One of the other moms’ took up a collection so they could buy a group gift. Toys are expensive here so that way he could get one nice big toy instead of lots of little not-so-nice toys.

Allan wanted me to buy a cake so that there wouldn’t be any last minute hassle.

True to my nature I procrastinated until the last minute. Somehow I managed to find the most expensive bakery around. There was no time to comparison shop so I just bit my lip and paid the bill. The cake would sport an obscene amount of marzipan, a castle and a ghost.

Thank god for hidden pictures at Highlights.com. I printed off ten for the boys to work on as they arrived.

Allan led the boys in a game of dodge ball while I got the cake and candles (actually sparklers) ready. Let’s back up here. Earlier that same morning Allan had taken Andy out to buy A dodge ball. I had struck out earlier at the local toy store. When I asked for a special dodge ball I got ‘that look’. The look I get a lot. The look I should be used to getting after being an expat for so many years. Someone described it as being looked at like live lizards are crawling out of your mouth. Or like you have two heads. So the boys set out to buy a (1, one) ball. A few hours later they returned with two balls, a swimming pool, ladder & cover for the pool and some candy to add to the goodie bags. (You don’t want to know how much this party cost!).

The timing was perfect. The first of the seven sparklers on the cake spluttered out as we finished singing. The boys downed their cake, went to the bathroom and then loaded up in the cars. After liberating one boy who had locked himself in the upstairs bathroom, Allan almost sped off without one boy who had lingered a little too long in the toilet.

Two boys asked to ride shotgun. Which is illegal by the way until you’re twelve, or 135 centimeters tall or weigh at least 35 kilos.

It was a short drive but I still got, “are we there yet?” I believe the finer points of football were debated in the back seat during the trip.

I made a wrong turn trying to find a parking spot. Which made us late. A half hour late for the tour. Which was one hour not a half hour. Which made us an hour late to the restaurant. Allan took the little boys on the tour while I went to warn the restaurant that we would be late.

I noticed the same blisters on one little boy’s legs that Andy had. They had played together on Monday. Hmm.

Note: the previous Friday I was in line behind a man at the local amusement park waiting to buy ice cream. The man had bought the large group of children their chosen frozen treat when a lady came up and reamed him a new one. It turns out (unbeknownst to the poor man) that the group was an official birthday party which includes (read: cheapest) ice cream. The lady would not let up. The children stood around expressionless eating their already opened popsicles. I don’t know about you but I just don’t think it’s worth going ballistic over €5.

Pancakes for 8, make that 10.

Only one boy spilled his drink.

For about five minutes it was very pleasant to sit there with 8 seven year olds. My son has nice friends. While we waited I doled out the not yet completes Hidden Pictures to finish. Left to their own devises little boys will pour a substantial amount of powdered sugar on a pancake.

One fell on the way out and scraped his knee. He collapsed on the cobblestones working the slight injury for all it was worth. Allan actually PICKED HIM UP and carried the fifty pound fakir to the ice cream shop. Great lesson there. Goldbricking will get you your chocolate ice cream first! Must remember that.

Allan had a look like a deer caught in the headlights when I told him that he would have to take half of the little boys home. My car was very quiet as the boys still worked on their Hidden Pictures.

Once home Andy set up his Hot Wheels V drop. Which I will admit is quite cool. Allan invited The Best Neighbors In The World over to finish the cake. Which was an agreeable way to end the day. With a little help from Google we decided that Andy’s blisters were very much poison ivy like. So I treated him with a baking soda bath and some anti-histamine cream.

(you are welcome to leave a comment. If you post as anonymous just put your name in the text)

Swim Diploma "B"

Andy earned his "B" swim diploma. The pool where he takes his lessons is 38 years old and will be torn down this summer. For the last few years a new replacement pool has been being built next door. He will being lessons for his "C" diploma there next fall.

In order to earn a "B" diploma, he had to;

With clothes on:

Jump in the pool, tread water for 30 seconds, swim 25 meters crawl, swim underneath a float, turn then swim 25 meters back stroke and climb out of the pool.

In just his swim trunks:

Dive head first into the water, swim 6 meters underwater, swim through an underwater hole, swim 75 meters crawl, sink 3 times feet first to the bottom and then swim 75 meters back stroke.

Dead man's float, float on his back, swim 10 meters breast stroke, and swim 10 meters on his back.

30 seconds treading water with arms & legs, 30 seconds treading water with just the legs

The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd (book review)

What a disappointing book after ‘The Secret Life of Bees’. I found the opening theme of dismemberment to be tired very tired. It’s been done before in ‘I know this much is true’ and ‘Where the heart is.’

If Jesse found Brother Thomas so attractive because of:

“My falling in love with him had everything to do with his monkness, his loyalty to what lay deep within him, the self-containment of his solitude, that desire to be transformed.”

Huh? If he was so devoted to god, what the heck was he doing fooling around with a married woman?

There were some nice phrases though. I chuckled at this one is about a shrine fashioned from an upturned bathtub sunk half into the earth:

“The first time I saw the tub, I told Mother that all those tears Mary’s statues reportedly cried were because of the extreme tackiness of her devotees.”

It was pretty clear that Brother Thomas had come to the monastery to flee the pains of everyday life not to run into the open arms of god.

“I have come here not to find answers,” he’d written in his notebook that first year, “but to find a way to live in a world without any.”

Okay that’s cool. But you don’t have to run away and join a monastery for that, a few minutes of Buddhist meditation could get you the same.

“Sometimes just being honest is just being stupid.”

Jesse blamed her husband for making her feel stale. I think that’s lame. She had an obligation to herself to nurture her own uniqueness. We all do.

This whole idea that infatuation can somehow compete with years of marriage really irked me. Maybe it’s human nature to run away from problems but to build a good marriage you stay and work though the hard times. This builds a relationship that I doubt any fleeting lust could breach.

And no, I didn’t like ‘The Bridges of Madison County’ either.

Old Stuff

So I added some of my old travel logs to the archives.

Phuket
Chaing Mai
Petchabun (Buddhist monk ordination):
Ko Samui
Songkran
Pregnancy diaries

The first day of Andy's school vacation was rainy. Today it's better and should improve as the week continues. Al's arranged to have the kitchen and living room painted this week so am busy moving stuff around to make room for the painter.

This blog was intended as a place to archive my writing somewhere off my hardrive. Stuff keeps going missing and I just wanted an online backup.

Queen's day turned out to be cold, wet and rainy. So there weren't that many pictures. I got caught in a hailstorm coming back on my bicycle.

Here's a picture of Andy wearing the hat he got in Judo class. It advertises the sports school where the classes are. Orange is the color of the Dutch Royal family, hence the the hue.

Between rain showers the neighborhood held games for children. A couple of ponies were brought in this year for the kids to ride. The usual; stringing funyums on licorice whips, football goal kicking, face painting and blind taste tests were among the assorted games.

Outlander by Diana Galbaldon

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Adjectives escape me but just let me say that I found the outlandish premise, plot, language and characters entertaining. I suppose if you had to put it in a genre, maybe bodice ripper would be apropos. There’s some wonderful story telling here with a delightful sense of humor.

“He didn’t’ speak further, but relaxed a bit under my hands when he realized that it wasn’t going to hurt. I felt an odd sense of intimacy with this young Scottish stranger, due in part, I thought to the dreadful story he had just told me, and in part to our long ride through the dark, pressed together in drowsy silence. I had not slept with many men other than my husband, but I had noticed before that to sleep, actually sleep with someone did give this sense of intimacy, as though your dreams had flowed out of you to mingle with his and fold you both in a blanket of unconscious knowing. A throwback of some kind, I thought. In older, more primitive times (like these? Asked another part of my mind), it was an act of trust to sleep in the presence of another person. If the trust was mutual, simple sleep could bring you closer together than the joining of bodies.”

“I leaned back on my elbows and basked in the warming spring sun. There was a curious peace in this day, a sense of things working quietly in their proper courses, nothing minding the upsets and turmoils of human concerns. Perhaps it was the peace that one always finds outdoors, far enough away from building and clatter. Maybe it was the result of gardening, that quiet sense of pleasure in touching growing things, the satisfaction of helping them thrive. Perhaps just the relief of finally having found work to do, rather than rattling around the castle feeling out of place, conspicuous as an inkblot on parchment.”

I loved the banter between the two main characters. Their relationship rang true. With a feisty heroine like Claire and a romantic hero like Jamie there were a lot of sparks flying. I was troubled by the adultery though.

And could somebody explain to me how Claire roused Jamie in the end? That part I just didn’t understand.

Book Review

SO during our skiing holiday I was locked in a room with only one book. It was Stephen Covey's The 7 habits of Highly Effective People. Once again I am probably the last person on the planet to have read this popular book.

"natural laws cannot be broken. It is impossible for us to break the law. We can only break outselves against the law.'"

How many times have I seen this with fitness and nutrition? People trying to coerce their body into doing something it is incapable of. So much better to work with you body's natural laws to coax it into doing what you want it to, to the best of it's ability. I also got two more of his books. After reading 'First things first', I keep asking myself, 'am I trading doing something good for doing something better?'

I find it depressing that these books expounding boyscout virtues had to be written at all. Don't people already know this stuff?

WHITE SPACE

For the third year in a row we went skiing with our neighbors. We returned to the Austrian Alps during spring break. My husband, Allan, who was between jobs had traveled to Austria two weeks earlier. My son, Andy and I would take the overnight train to Saltzburg where my husband would pick us up. I was looking forward to the week of intensive Dutch.

FRIDAY 17^th February

The taxi I ordered the night before for 6:10 arrived in the a.m. instead of the p.m. I told him he was 12 hours early. Normally I would have a neighbor drive me to the train station but they were all already on their way to skiing.

I was antsy watching the traffic jam grow and grow. It’s basically a mass exodus to Germany-Austria-Switzerland-Italy for skiing during the school spring break. During the winter, with no leaves on the trees I have a view from our upstairs windows of one of the main arteries out of Amsterdam. It looked like a parking lot. I kept hearing sirens. To pass the time I decided to treat my new granite kitchen countertop with an impregnating solution. It stank like solvent. My son became nauseous from the smell.

At 4 o’clock I decided against taking Andy across town to his judo lesson. I wasn’t sure I could get back. The traffic was THAT bad. It’s possible to take a short cut from the highway through our village so I expected it would be a slow nightmare to make my way across town. I was tense enough expecting the train ride from hell without this extra added headache. There is a direct train but it had to be booked a year in advance. I would have to change trains 4 (four!) times during the night to get Salzberg.

When the taxi didn’t arrive by 6:15 p.m. I started calling the taxi company in a panic. The line was busy, busy, busy! So were all the other taxi company’s phone lines! Oh dear! I had lied and said my train was at 6:30 when really it was at 6:55 but still! A taxi finally did arrive at about 6:35. The driver apologized immediately for being late and then told me it would be impossible to get to the nearest train station. Due to the signals being out of order all the roads to the train station we blocked by the arms that come down over the road.

Luckily I had the entire train route printed out with me so we decided to try to catch the train at the first stop. The driver didn’t know if the signals were or weren’t working there either and speculated on how far he would have to take me to make the train. I thought, ‘I wonder what outrageous amount this will cost me? ‘When he saw how many stops we would have to make he said, ‘Oh honey! Why didn’t you fly? I could get you to the airport easily and you’d be there in two hours.’ Sheesh!

With the help of this taxi driver we did make the train with almost no time to spare. Allan and I exchanged some rather terse text messages. Andy and I had to sit in a smoking section for a few hours. Next to us was an over tanned looking women. She was listening to Madonna on her cd player so loud that I could recognize the song. I still don’t know how anybody could enjoy such bland music. Something made me look closer and I thought, ‘katoy’. I didn’t have to pinch Andy to wake him up at midnight to board our last train. I had brought blankets and one pillow case to help us get comfortable in the couchette sleeping chairs. It wasn’t too hard to get Andy to sleep but then I realized I should have brought two pillow cases. Duh! I unzipped the hood from my jacket, stuffed it into the string bag I had brought to carry the blankets in and tried to get in a position where I could sleep. I woke with a terrible lower backache and a strange pattern on my face. I attributed my headache to nicotine withdrawal.

SATURDAY, February 18th

Allan met us on the platform. We drove about an hour to his hotel where I took some Advil and crashed for a few sweet hours. I think it is so amazing that I can be in so much pain that I’m afraid that I won’t die and one Advil and a twenty minute nap later I feel fine again. I tried to eat some of the cold cuts at breakfast to get my protein in. But there is something very icky and ‘liverish’ about Austrian pork. My husband doesn’t do ‘leisurely’ it’s always, Go! Go! Go! So we put on our skiing things and made our way to the Asitz lift. I’ve found that if I put three socks on; two on my left foot and only one on my right that makes my ski boots fit properly. I truly regret at this point not buying those new ski pants at Christmas. But the price took my breath away. So I just don my size 14 clown pants. I can’t even pretend that they are snowboarding pants they are just too huge.

I skied as gracefully as an albatross. I felt like Jimmy Hoffa complete with concrete galoshes- all the time burping icky pork. This was NOT what I’d been taking three years of lessons for. We enjoyed a nice lunch sitting outside in the sun. For a time we couldn’t find Andy at the end of the day. He’d followed Allan down on the last run but when Al turned around, Andy wasn’t there. After a short frantic search we found him playing in the snow.

I was so disappointed in myself. I could not turn. At the end of the day we traded my skies for some that were slightly shorter. Hopefully that would do the trick.

My shins were sore from the vain attempts at turns. I tried to take a shower. But everyone else in the village tried to take a shower at the same time. Which over taxed the local water pressure. So nobody got any water at that time. Since I’m naked anyway I pose a bit and admire my ‘fed’ state in the mirror. [a fed state is when your muscles are full of carbohydrates and also therefore water]. Nice.

Dinner was ‘chicken helper’ with ice cream for dessert. Andy- the quintessential picky eater ‘wasn’t hungry’ but managed to eat all his ice cream and most of mine. I like the food where we stay. It’s simple, and plentiful. I am so not into pretense.

Andy lost a tooth. He’d had a loose one for some time and was very happy to have it out. He left it under his pillow for the ‘little mouse’ to exchange for cold hard cash. He normally gets a Euro per tooth but since we were on holiday he rated 4 (four!) Euros. He really grilled me in the morning about how can a mouse carry that many coins?

[serve the people: be a cannibal]

SUNDAY, February 19^th

Are we having fun yet? I was so tired from using the too long, too heavy skis the day before that I didn’t really do any better today. It was quite cold at the bottom of the mountain in the morning. But as we went up in the gondola we came out on top of the mist into a beautiful sunny day. We took one of our favorite routes, the Viehoven route that is 7.5 kilometers long. It’s a fairly easy blue that isn’t usually very crowded. Right turns and side slipping were a breeze- not so on my left. I dared to go as fast as I could as long as there was no one in front of me. At one point the group had stopped to let the slower ones catch up. I turned and saw Andy sitting in the middle of the slope. He must have fallen on a patch of ice I noticed there. Petra, our neighbor skied by him and told him to get out of the middle of the path.

Petra was a bit miffed at her youngest daughter, Nina. Nina loves to ski right behind you and Petra found this irritating. Nina HAD fallen twice already that day and wasn’t too happy about it. Petra joked about going to Aruba next year instead of skiing.

I saw Nina hit a bump in the same spot where Andy had fallen. She leaned backwards, which is wrong! Wrong! Wrong! And then did a cartwheel out of her skis. Our kingdom above the clouds was shattered. We could easily hear her 150 feet down the hill. Nina has umm, quite a piercing voice.

Allan was bringing up the rear and he stopped to help Nina. He encountered a full frontal refusal, which is not unusual for a seven year old of course. So Nina’s father, Ben walked back up to her. It just about killed him. He vowed to give up cigarettes. We decided to call the rescue squad, just in case she really was hurt. I guess you could call her, ‘the little girl who cried, ‘torn cross ligament.’’ Ben rode down on the back of the snow mobile while Petra skied behind them.

We went on to a restaurant a little way further where Petra called from the bottom warning us that it was quite slushy and unpleasant at the bottom.

It’s. Not. Fun. To. Ski. In. Slush. You can’t go. You can’t stop. You can’t turn. It’s awful. And tiring. I got to practice my side slipping. A lot.

The reason the Viehoven run is usually not crowded is because there is no lift at the bottom. You have to take a bus. Petra called from the hospital to tell us that Nina hadn’t broken or torn anything. She was to take a day off and then could try to ski again in two day. A very big articulated bus took us to the Schonenlieten lift. It’s kinda like you hear how Japanese commuter trains are. There are attendants at the bottom to help push as many people as possible into the gondola cars. We got shoved into one where a lady was holding a very scared, quivering small dog in her arms.

The group split up between the beginners and the more fool hardy i.e. the children and Paul, another adult in our group. Al, Ingrid and I waited and waited at the appointed meeting place when finally Paul’s wife, Ingrid called him on her mobile phone. He’s gone the wrong way and had to bring the children up on a T-bar lift. That couldn’t have been fun for him.

I fell and fell and fell the rest of the day. In the morning the freshly groomed snow is rather smooth but by the end of the day after everybody has skied over it the slops get lumpy. Unfortunately my years of lesson on an artificial slope did not teach me anything about what to do in different snow conditions.

I decided I’d had enough skiing for the day and to take the gondola down Asitz Mountain instead of skiing.

I had had to pack our things two weeks in advance so Allan could bring them with him. That way I wouldn’t have too much to carry on the train. It was a brash act of optimism for me to pack my size 4 Gap low rise flare jeans to wear in the evening to dinner. Thank goodness for lycra spandex! I know now what toothpaste feels like before it squishes out of the tube.

MONDAY, February 20^th

Allan went with boys. He had one walkie-talkie and I had the other. I stayed in the hotel to leisurely drink coffee with the girls and Ben. I wanted a quiet morning after the first two intensive days of not really skiing as well as I expected I could.

After a truly horrendous wait at the bottom of the gondola we decide to go against the crowd. The day proceeded in an extremely relaxed pace. I didn’t ski much. But I did ski well. I thought, ‘No power in the ‘verse can touch me! With the shorter skis, I could turn. Now that I was rested I could perform somewhat better.

I turned on my walkie-talkie and tried to set the channel. After ten minutes of pushing different buttons I gave up and handed the radio to Sascha, a 10 year old in our group. I swear she pushed one button and viola! The radio was set to the right channel.

I enjoyed skiing until around 2:45 in the afternoon when we lost the light. You could no longer make out the contours of the snow. It truly was flying blind. Snow blind. Quite scary. I decided it would be foolhardy to continue.

[Why don’t you ever see Christian flavored lion food?]

TUESDAY, February 26^th

We decided to start really early to avoid the horrible morning crush. The three of us skied all the way to Saalbach. I was never scared. Never tired. Which is quite a major coup for me. I did fall though. Around eleven we stopped for a break where I had cottage cheese strudel swimming in a pool of vanilla sauce. After that much sugar I was raring to go. I love being this fit. There was more slushy snow at the bottom of the mountain.

Serendipity is being the first to come across a freshly groomed slope in the middle of the day. Skiers gather there like birds over a freshly plowed field.

When we got back to the room around 4 I crashed and told Allan to wake me for food.

Runs are rated from easiest to hardest as follows;

Blue

Green

Red- Red runs rawk!

Black

WEDNESDAY, February 27^th.

Stink-a-thon. Remember Allan had been at this for two weeks before we joined him. And without an adequate shower we both were pretty whiffy. The forecast for the day was for colder so I put on my angora long underwear.

We repeated the previous day’s route but this time with the whole group.

I was going great guns when a man sped by me followed by [presumably his] two children. The last one only had eyes for her papa I expect and she didn’t see me as she skied over the tips of my skies. I went down. And was very very angry. Why in the world am I spending a fortune on lessons for my son just to be knocked over by some fool kid who skies once a year behind her idiot father? The group that caused me to fall didn’t even stop. Righteous indignation.

I tried to revive myself with an enormous bowl of spaghetti and then some hot chocolate but again the slushy snow left me extremely tired.

Paul had a thermometer on his ski jacket that read 15 degrees C! At lunch I went into the bathroom and took off my long johns. Today we would avoid the new chair lifts with the heated seats instead of seek them out like we had done previously.

I don’t like moguls. I should have taken today off. Stubborn cuss that I am I still skied halfway down Asitz to get back to the car. I was smart today and took a shower the minute I got back to the hotel. It. Was. Nice.

I didn’t think much today beyond the tips of my skis and the next place to turn. It was white. And slushy in some places. Which meant I couldn’t overcome my inertia to go and once I finally did get going it was like skiing on ball bearings, there was no way to stop my momentum. That’s it. Flow. In the zone.

My knees hate me.

THURSDAY, February 23^rd

It was a foggy cold morning. We ‘borrowed’ a teenage snowboarder to keep Andy company since it was just the three of us again today. I couldn’t see. I wasn’t recovered. I stopped for some fortified fruit juice. Then tried some tea with honey. It seems like I’d developed a case of ‘alpen trots’ from the chili I’d had for lunch the day before. DON’T HAVE THE CHILI FROM THE BERGHUT!.

My body still doesn’t trust what my brain is telling it to do.

FRIDAY, February 24^th

I am appalled that Allan has lived in the Netherlands for 18 years and didn’t know the Dutch word for homesick. It’s cold. But the red runs at the top were nicely groomed in the morning. We do them over and over. Allan takes some video of Andy and me.

We take the viehoven run one last time. Andy takes a rather spectacular fall when he hits a patch of ice, loses a ski and slams into the icy side of the slope. He cries a bit but is revived with some candy.

There is an interminable wait for a table at lunchtime. The last run down all the other skiers seem like nuts to me. There are just too many out of control people out there for my taste so I stop. Allan does one last run while I load the car.

Now it’s time for me to squeeze my fertility goddess hips into my jeans and return home.

After ‘Tiroler Evening’ where we stuff our faces with far too much good food, we left at 3 am and arrived home about 11 hours later. Which gave us plenty of time to span the gamut of songs from Allan’s iPod. I kid you not we listened from yodeling to Hare Krishna music. I now have an unbelievable amount of laundry to do. Bring on spring!

The Trouble with Testosterone by Robert Sapolsky (book review)

Well, I'm a Sapolsky fan now after reading "The Trouble with Testosterone." His style of writing reminds me of Natalie Angiers (The Beauty of the Beastly & Woman, an Intimate Geography)

It's funny that I read it just after 'The Songlines" which has some of man's innate wanderlust as the heart of the story.

As a mother with a young son my heart just ached for male 273 (a baboon)

He was badly mauled and, in a poignant act, crawled for miles to return to his former home troop to die near his mother.

In the chapter 'Circling the Blanket for God' I just had to stop reading periodically to wipe the tears of laughter out of my eyes. He presents the (not new) argument that religion, schizophrenia and OCD are all related.

Put succinctly, it is not usually considered to be a sign of robust mental health to hear voices in burning bushes. Or to report that you've spent the night wrestling with an angel, or that someone who had died has risen and conversed with you.

He has a diagram of Rice Krispy treats and shows how it is innate human nature to want to always leave a straight line on the treats left in the pan. This really tickled me. I’ve always known it as ‘cake straightening’. No one can leave a jagged line of cake in a sheet cake pan. YOU JUST HAVE TO EAT cake until there is a straight line left.

For schizophrenics, it’s not a matter of trees and forests. Instead it’s habitually seeing only the bark.

This guy sure makes science accessible.