Placelessness

Well, dear world, here we are again. I feel almost obliged to tell you exactly what has happened since I last wrote, although I'm not sure I will because I'm not sure it's entirely necessary.

Since arriving in this country I have built up an immense multi-coloured shield of all kinds of strong, patient and gentle. My kids are just that, my kids...and they shouldn't be. It's one of the biggest and deepest challenges I think I've faced in a very long time if not ever.
The intense gratification and warmth in the bubble of unconditional love of children but the hardest anguish yet- I'm not theirs and they aren't mine and they shouldn't be in the situation where they feel like this. It is as hard for them as it is for me but they aren't yet emotionally equipped to deal with it and sometimes I wonder whether even I am.

It is becoming a force against my morale staying here, but magnet to my heart.

Everybody needs a family and the world is as small as you make it.

The Plan

I think they're plotting something.
They may or may not be trying to take over the universe.
Bear with me, I'll elaborate.

Every morning, I put a piece of fruit and something to drink and a cereal bar into a little lunch box and into their backpacks. Today was like every morning, except when I went to retrieve F's bag from its hook, it was surprisingly heavy, for an empty lunchbox. They don't need anything in school when they're 7 or 9- no books no nothing, just a snack. The bag just makes them feel ever so slightly cool.

Anyway, i found a small surprise inside her backpack:

I asked her briefly about the contents of her backpack as she brushed her teeth. She smirked at me. I didn't even know 7 year olds could smirk.
Here we have:
A slingshot, which only just fitted in her bag.
An opera CD of Pinocchio
Some binoculars
A massive calculator
A roll of sellotape
A key
A plastic, golden trophy
A keyring with a bat on it (that J decided he'd steal as he waled out the door to school)
A small wooden box that looks like a baby's toy, when actually it has two holes and a small mirror inside so that you can see around corners.
Two ravaged tennis balls.

They have a plan.
It's scaring me.

Well...

Today's another day, I suppose, but tying the dog up in a blanket is still not cool, guys. Not cool at all. Maybe a tiny bit funny, but poor Guusjie was crying and wailing for ages until you let me leave the bathroom and wipe all the bubbles off my face. Poor, poor little creature.

The sea makes everything better.

Last weekend I made a two hour train trip to Den Haag to see some friends when it should have only taken an hour. We drank wine. And lots of beer. And then we couldn't ride our bikes anymore and we laughed and we laughed at the stupidity of it all because it was raining so hard and the sane people were indoors and then we howled to the moon. (Even though we couldn't see it)

Then we woke up, drowsy, hungry, ill. So I said let's go to the sea and and so we cycled to the beach and stood barefoot in the sea. We drank the wind and it ate away all the yuck we felt refreshed. Clean, pure and barefoot, we drank tea in hut on the beach.

Then I came back and worked and it was hugely miserable until my OWN violin arrived in the post! Along with a small selection of books and little things from around my room that my mama could find. I love her. I miss her.
And then F decided she wanted to learn how to play the piano which was actually quite successful- more successful than the violin, lets just say- and she can actually play a C major scale with the right fingers! And she sometimes growls at the same time!
Although it does get slightly tedious when she plays it over and over and over and over.
I'll have to think about something else to teach her.
All suggestions welcome!

Last Thursday I met with all the other au pairs in the area. We drank beer and laughed at eachothers shame. None of us speak dutch, none of us meant to come here, we are all home sick. So we stick together.
Especially on Wednesday mornings when breakfast in the HEMA supermarket is 1euro before 10am.

I met a really cool Irish au pair called Nina at a breakfast. We decided we were both from the UK so we need to be best friends. It's entirely very convenient that we have huge amounts in common and we'd have been friends anyway. we wandered around Amsterdam that day, lost and carefree. Remarking how goddamn WEIRD everything is.

Then I stayed on the train to Hilversum when she got off in Naarden, where our bikes were. I went to an SGI Holland meeting... It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever done. They were radiant souls and so so warm and open to me- we chanted and  discussed hardships and their relationships to us! It was magic and then we hugged and went home and i'll write more later because Nina is upset and I'm running to albertheijn to get some ben and jerry hugs.
Peace!

Tantrums and nosebleeds.

Ok, take back everything I said in the last blog. Not all of it, but most of it.

The house is made of light. Only light. Nothing else. It's a showhome. Sentimental at times, but rarely. You can see yourself in the floor.
No, I'm for real.

The dogs are my friends. They're good people. Laid back, snuffling, they know what they want in life. Did I tell you Guusje and Higgins are like best friends in the world? They say hi every day like they haven't seen each other in years. And then they walk side-by-side, proud. Or they jump on eachother and play. Dogs speak the same language as me. We get along. Except when Tinkle actually peed on top of Higgins today. Not cool, guys.

Ok, the kids aren't entirely bad. They're sweet, they're just highly strung and temperamental. Oh, and manipulative. They ask for cake in dutch, i say no. Especially not half an hour before dinner. They ask for cake in English with 'please may i' stuck on the front... They learn quickly, let's just say.

Whereas F says 'ouch' when I brush her hair and it hurts, J says 'oh dear!' or 'oh no!' Which is hugely endearing. Especially because it sounds sort of like 'owdeea!' or 'ownow!' and is an immensely redeeming quality in J. His little sister is somewhat more mature than he is, though, in so many ways!

First thing this morning they were hugely bored and wanted to play at friends' houses. J called Mote (that's how you say his name..) and grabbed his skateboard and headed to put his shoes on. Meanwhile F was ringing round all her friends and nobody was home! Or still asleep, and all she really wanted was to play with J. So she asked him and he said no because he'd already made plans with Mote. And her face, her poor, tiny, but so emotionally mature face!
She's bright blonde and the rims of her eyes and nose and lips are pinkish anyway but I watched her eyes fill up and her nose go pink and she was so restrained about it all until she couldn't breathe properly. She really REALLY just wanted to play with J. It wasn't because he had plans and she didn't, it was because she really loves spending time with him.
And then came the huge tantrums.

They do love eachother, those two. They aren't hugely sentimental about it, but they never fight. My sister and I always fought at that age.

This place is so unnatural. It's beautiful but forced. There are trees and canals and ponds but they're all built and planned. There are no accidental hidaways.
The swans scour and snuffle on the surface of the canals not big enough to sail on, eating the algae. It makes a cuddly noise.

J had a nosebleed. A great big, messy nosebleed everywhere. It wasn't exciting. Not. Nice.
Kinda made me feel lonelier yet in this scheme of lonely events that proceed. Not entirely sure why.

I'm pining for my wonderful love. and he is all I can think about.
Ever.
I need a hug.
I thought I'd miss Wales, but really I miss him more than any of it. Does that make me more his than Welsh?

p.s did I tell you about the violin? and the piano? and the other au pairs?

The Netherlands.

The house is built of light, it drips from everything. It's clean, straight, gentle. The neighbourhood is pretty; all hanging baskets and bicycles and dogs on leads. The kids are beautiful, blonde, sweet. There is a lovely neighbour across the street. It's all such a cliché.
I'm waiting on edge for them all to start screaming and scratching each others eyes out tomorrow when their dad looks after them. Of course this won't happen.

I arrived last night after the most dreadful farewells and the most hysterics I have been in for a very long time and it might as well have ripped my heart out and bled it dry because I seem so lost here. I'm so glad my love can't cry, otherwise I swear I wouldn't have gone. It feels like I cried for weeks. I'm still seriously dehydrated.

It's so flat here. People are so TALL. I'm positively short. My bike has been lowered to the lowest possible height and it's still too high. In Wales I am tall. I keep forgetting this.

I walked F to her playdate this morning with Guusje the dog. She struggles a lot with remembering english words. Like her brother, she loves the ducks. A LOT. And the herons and swans and moorhens. So she stood and watched the heron before it flew to the other side of the canal in the park and we carried on. She picked up a stone and said 'Steen' and gave it to me as a present. I dropped her off and went 'home.' It's still in my pocket. The stone, I mean.

I'm stupidly home sick, in case you haven't noticed. I'm not doing myself any favours here, but my creature comforts are, and that just makes it worse.

After heading into town twice already today, a lady from just across the street came by. She has two dogs: Tinkle and Higgins. It's mostly ironic because my dog's called Pippi and we all know what Pippi means in Dutch. And we all know what Tinkle means in English. Creepy. I get to walk her two dogs for the next week or so because she's going to Venice... She's an artist.
Her son is in College in Norway in the same college my sister wants to go to... but he left his violin behind. Which is convenient because I LEFT MINE BEHIND ARGH. This is the root of such anguish in my soul.

...It could be that or the fact that I just had a skype chat, whilst writing this, with my family and dog and cried uncontrollably. Again.
Moosie.
Not even the tint of something sparkly that someone dropped on this desk cheered me up.

F came and sat with me whilst I played the violin before dinner. Then she went downstairs. And came back up after dinner to give me a small bowl of strawberries that she tripped and dropped all over my floor, then picked up and put back into the bowl and handed to me. I'm eating them anyway because she is beautiful and sweet and I love her already.

But I miss my love. and I miss hugs and his voice and his hand in mine.
Love is so strange. Half of me is missing.

What am I doing?

Dear anyone who has any idea about anything at all,
What on earth am I doing?
yours,
my-flight-leaves-tomorrow-I'm-terrified.

p.s
Who in their right mind creates such a beautifully charmed existence and then just LEAVES?

And I never had to see them again...

Well, this is me. In a nest of hills in Wales, currently- it's raining, of course.
It's not a shame, but today has been hard.
You see.. I've decided to start a blog (obviously) about what it's like to leave the nest and valleys and mountain tops and find myself in the flattest country in Europe: The Netherlands.

Right now, I don't know what to think. Except I think I'm pining for the dreams I used to have about leaving and independance and soaring over this horrible country that tied me down with strings and forcefed me (godforbid) education! But now all those strings have been cut and I am marginally more wise than when those dreams were concieved, and I'm not sure this nest is as uncomfortable as I thought it was. It was a lot easier when I was bitter. My flight's on the 31st of August.

It seems like a long way away..

The only strings that tie me now are heart strings and they will always stay. Which is so so much harder than the superimposed ties..
I am so so in love with such a wonderful, beautiful man. He breaks my heart. Our relationship is such a magic fusion of intense and sometimes crazy kind gentleness and music! We fit. I love him with ALL of my heart

And even when the strings of education are cut, you're left with their shadows and heart strings with the people you shared your life with for seven years. Too many tears shed by beautiful people that were once teachers, but are now friends, and very good ones indeed...

So here I am. Regretting I didn't wake up sooner, regretting digging my heels in as much as I did, regretting that it took until now to love what I do.