Like Riding A Bike
Anyone who knows me well knows that I get a bit squeamish around birthdays. It's odd, considering that 90% of the time I'm trying to be the center of attention, that on the one day I can be the star I choose to hide. I have no issues with getting older - I know 26 is still a pup. But I find it weird to invite everyone out to celebrate me; my coming into the world. Luckily my friends don't share the sentiment and as a result I was invited to spend the weekend with my best friend Alanna in the Netherlands (her home for the past 18 months). I can honestly say it was the best 72 hours I've spent in Europe since my arrival. Except for that month I as wined and dined in Paris a few summers ago, it may have been my best time in Europe ever. Alanna doesn't put out quite like my French boyfriend did, but the girl fills almost every other need a best friend could ask for.
I feel quite home at airports, having spent a lot of time in them since, oh, say...birth. We Chadens like to travel, and going to college across the country (and then across an ocean) made for many an hour in the Admiral's Club. Airports are sort of like neutral ground - they all have similar cafes, duty-free shops, newsstands with every journal imaginable, and even the same smell. And it was also pretty awesome that, since I was traveling within the EU, I didn't need to deal with passport control. When I arrived in Amsterdam it was cold and rainy (I realized I'd grossly misjudged the weather and, therefore, my wardrobe choices). I managed to find my way to the train and got to Alanna and Fergus' lovely apartment in one piece. 18 months ago when they first moved there from Australia and poor Alanna was still jetlagged and had seen about 10 apartments, I swooped in to take advantage of the fact that she was now in the northern hemisphere. We spent a day looking at places and I helped her choose this one. It was great to see all of the parts of them that had now been incorporated - art from Australia, vases from France, Dutch dishes, Moroccan rugs, Indonesian tables. Needless to say, it made my West Elm sofa look paltry in comparison.
Fergus and I cracked open a bottle of Aussie wine and caught up a bit before Alanna came home from work. When she finally arrived, soaked and shivering from her bike ride, I immediately felt at home. There is a casual-friendliness about her manner. She has a way of making you feel like you've known her for 10 years. In my case it's been close to 13, so you could imagine my elation. To be honest, the moment I saw her I felt like crying. I'd forgotten how much I missed my good friends (you know who you are), and I crave that interpersonal connection on such a visceral level. She dove right into things, complaining about work a bit and then dishing on Erin's wedding, showing me photos and relaying stories that put me right there in Mystic, CT, two weeks ago. Corinne - apparently you make an excellent hotel roommate. And you're a kickass dancer (which we already knew).
When we retired for bed it was about 50 degrees in my guestroom 'suite' but somehow I drifted off into the coziest, most contented sleep I've had since I was home. When I woke up the next morning I was officially 26. I didn't feel any different - I still don't. I showered and pulled on my jeans before waking up my friend, who promptly revised our birthday plan due to the disobedient weather. She presented me with a birthday card and then three beautiful postcards, hinting at the day's activities. Something fashionable. Something gourmet. Something to pamper ourselves. Sadly the last would have to wait due to our late start (she wanted to take me to an art deco bath house), but I didn't mind when I found out my parents had given me a spa gift certificate for here in Rome. Besides, Alanna and I could have been stuck in a cave somewhere and it still would've been the best birthday in years.
I should state how I've spent the past few birthdays - always with one other person, and only one other person. Last year I planned dinner for 8 people in the private room at Blue Ribbon Bakery, cancelling at the last minute. Instead I forced (well, probably not forced) Regan to join me for a lowkey dinner. After she left I voluntarily opened my presents alone. And cried. 25 was a rough year for me, as some of you know. Maybe it was the whole 'holy-shit-i'm-really-not-a-kid-anymore' sentiment that comes with a quarter century. Maybe it was the fact that I hated my job and was on the cusp of a bout of serious depression. Maybe it was because for my 24th birthday I'd had a wonderful dinner with my then-boyfriend and I was disappointed that I wasn't currently dating someone. And even then, on that 24th birthday, I got the impression my date was doing me a favor by being there. So really, 26 had to be a good birthday - I was overdue. And I feel the same way about the whole year.
We arrived in Amsterdam 50 minutes after boarding the train in Den Haag and emerged to a rainy, windy, tourist-packed city. Alanna made her way quickly and ably through the crowds to a small falafel stand. Knowing how much I miss my NY street vendors (and any ethnic food that is NOT Italian), she treated me to a hearty helping of falafel with all the tahini and toppings a girl could ask for. The falafel had serious flavor, far surpassing any little balls of what tastes like bland matzoh-meal you get half the time at home. Not only could you actually taste the chickpeas, there was an ample dosing of parsley and coriander. They must have been fried in seriously hot oil because the inside remained soft and moist while the outside was a toasty, crispy, rich golden brown. Four balls were stuffed into a particularly dense, bready pita - slightly too bready for my taste - and then we were handed the little packages to dress at our leisure. I topped mine with tahini, some tomatoes and onions, pickles, and then, just so I could pick at it, a spoonful of North African carrot salad. The carrots had sweetened with their thorough roasting but the heavy shake of cumin and coriander, salt and pepper, gave them flavor other than 'cooked carrot' (something my sister hates, with good reason). We sat next to the bar so we could keep adding more tahini (or yogurt sauce, or hot sauce) with every bite. We left stuffed and smiling and ready to fight the elements, which came in handy as we made our way to the Neiuwe Kirke (sp?) for a special exhibit.
With Part 1 of Operation Allie's Birthday a success, we entered the New Church and were transported to my idea of heaven - a fashion exhibit put on by the Rijkmuseum. We spent 2 hours admiring everything from children's corsets to funeral robes, wedding gowns, wigs, and then some fabulous 40s bathing suits. Every section of the show began with a video montage on a large flatscreen TV. Clips from Amadeus, Sex & The City, videos of the Dutch royal family, and one of my favorite movies, Barry Lyndon, depicted fashions spanning the decades. And it was informative, too. Did you know that brides used to wear black to their weddings? It was a sign of wealth if you could afford the dye to darken your cloth, and a testament to the dowry offered by the bride's father.
After that I was lead to an out-of-the-way pastry house. As we pranced through the canals and streets I took full scope of the buildings around me and reminisced a bit about the architecture and history of New York. It's amazing how much of the Dutch influence is still evident. We ducked into this old, wood-paneled, comfortable and bright shop with just 5 small tables. Everyone in the place was speaking Dutch and at the front we selected our pastries with care - Alanna had a passion-fruit and raspberry cake topped with green tea mousse (and a small piece of chocolate which after further inspection - me eating it - we determined was only for decoration. whoops.). I opted for a small, more traditional tartlet filled with tahitian vanilla and passion fruit pastry cream, topped with fresh raspberries and sugared almonds. Alanna blew me away with her language skills and ordered the pastries for us with a pot of tea and we settled in. We had an amazing talk about the inmportance of friendship, what our own friendship means to each other, and the meaning of life. Okay, that last part is a lie but we definitely touched on some important subjects.
We strolled down the main shopping road in order to regain our appetites (notice how all of the activities are really just time-fillers between meals?) and tried a few things on without much success. After a quick aperitif and makeup application we found a cab and headed towards dinner. Having listened closely (she always does) to my request for ethnic food, Alanna had made reservations at a Japanese restaurant which was not only rated the best dining in Amsterdam and one of the top restaurants in all of the Netherlands, but also had a Michelin star. Look, I could go on for hours about this meal, but I will spare you the details. I'll list a few highlights of the 8-course tasting menu: champagne with cherry-blossom liqueur,, fried lobster, fresh chrysanthemums, melt-in-your-mouth mackerel sashimi, three kinds of raw tuna, authentic gummy green-tea and red-bean desserts. The dessert plate was even inscribed with 'Happy Birthday' in Dutch in chocolate sauce. The staff gathered to sing and clap, which after a bottle of wine and enough food to feed a small Japanese village - for a week - made for a very surreal experience. Did I mention we were there for almost 4 hours?
In order to help things settle we strolled all the way back to the train station in the damp evening air. We did the obligatory route through the red light district which still reminds me, though I've seen it now 3 times, of Disney's It's A Small World on acid. Really - what says Amsterdam other than wooden shoes, braided blondes, and tulips like legalized prostitution? It was a bit like being in Epcot Center but fascinating to go with Alanna, who always has information on the subject.
When we got home we had to ride our bikes back to her house from the Den Haag train station which made me feel truly Dutchie. I'd been nervous Friday morning when I mounted her rusty turqoise bike that made the trek all the was from Australia, not having ridden a bike in years. Some of you may remember a certain incident at USC that involved me, a cell phone, and a parked car. Honestly, that pared car came out of nowhere. But no, I was proficient and confident and found it quite exhilirating. It was sort of a metaphor for the entire weekend, really. Reconnecting with an old friend who knows me better than I know myself, rehashing old memories, laughing heartily and remembering what it is that makes me laugh. Getting back on that bike. My time in Rome has been peppered with fears and doubts and challenges and sometimes you focus so much on making things work that you don't let things happen organically. This was a healthy dose of letting go.
We stayed up late talking and slept until 11 the next day, and then headed to town for an Irish breakfast. I'd told her that as much as I love the coffee ritual here I longed for an all American weekend brunch. The small cafe owned by a Dutch-Irish couple didn't even start serving brekkie until 1pm, so we knew we'd come to the right place. We ended up feasting on sausage, eggs, bacon, black and white pudding, chips (fries), toast, jam, and teas. We then proceeded to sit and talk for another couple of hours. This time I asked for some guidance and direction and advice. What the hell was I doing here? What did I really want out of life? Alanna is like my personal guru in times like these. Always honest, knows me so well, and isn't afraid to tell me the truth. It was just what the doctor ordered - an entree of tough love with a side of thoughtfulness. I won't tell you everything we discussed (come on, some stuff should be kept private) but it was very thought provoking and has helped me sort some things out. Everyone should be so lucky to have a friend like this.
More shopping, followed by moroccan chickpea stew (did I mention she is a great chef? must be the Galati gene), a DVD, girl talk, a game of world-capitals (don't ask) and some apple pastries later we drifted off into dreamland and I slept like a baby. Sunday when I departed I felt sad to be leaving her and our time together. Even though we ate like kings and drank like fishes, I looked better upon returning. My skin was glowing and I was smiling. My mental health had taken a trip to the spa.
I've started morning classes now and am enjoying my new classmates - a Swedish bartender, a Russian linguist, a Brasillian economist, and my friends from last session (my favorite being these 2 German chicks and a Mexican girl from Cancun who didn't have very nice things to say about American spring-breakers. shocker.). While I haven't made an official decision yet, somethine Alanna and I talked about was me leaving Rome in December instead of March. I'm having fun, yes, but I've been transient for most of my adult life. Dare I say I'm ready to be a bit more settled? Own a place, focus on my career. This is a wonderful experience but I miss my friends and my family and my life as much as I did when I arrived. That hasn't dulled at all - if anything it's grown as Rome becomes less new and exciting and I settle into everyday life.
Per Alanna's sage advice, I need to focus on making myself happy. I need to stop expecting external forces to make me complete and content. Was Rome just another quick-fix? Maybe.
But I'm 26 now. I'm a big girl and need to make that decision, and any changes that supercede it, on my own. You can still wish me luck, though.
I feel quite home at airports, having spent a lot of time in them since, oh, say...birth. We Chadens like to travel, and going to college across the country (and then across an ocean) made for many an hour in the Admiral's Club. Airports are sort of like neutral ground - they all have similar cafes, duty-free shops, newsstands with every journal imaginable, and even the same smell. And it was also pretty awesome that, since I was traveling within the EU, I didn't need to deal with passport control. When I arrived in Amsterdam it was cold and rainy (I realized I'd grossly misjudged the weather and, therefore, my wardrobe choices). I managed to find my way to the train and got to Alanna and Fergus' lovely apartment in one piece. 18 months ago when they first moved there from Australia and poor Alanna was still jetlagged and had seen about 10 apartments, I swooped in to take advantage of the fact that she was now in the northern hemisphere. We spent a day looking at places and I helped her choose this one. It was great to see all of the parts of them that had now been incorporated - art from Australia, vases from France, Dutch dishes, Moroccan rugs, Indonesian tables. Needless to say, it made my West Elm sofa look paltry in comparison.
Fergus and I cracked open a bottle of Aussie wine and caught up a bit before Alanna came home from work. When she finally arrived, soaked and shivering from her bike ride, I immediately felt at home. There is a casual-friendliness about her manner. She has a way of making you feel like you've known her for 10 years. In my case it's been close to 13, so you could imagine my elation. To be honest, the moment I saw her I felt like crying. I'd forgotten how much I missed my good friends (you know who you are), and I crave that interpersonal connection on such a visceral level. She dove right into things, complaining about work a bit and then dishing on Erin's wedding, showing me photos and relaying stories that put me right there in Mystic, CT, two weeks ago. Corinne - apparently you make an excellent hotel roommate. And you're a kickass dancer (which we already knew).
When we retired for bed it was about 50 degrees in my guestroom 'suite' but somehow I drifted off into the coziest, most contented sleep I've had since I was home. When I woke up the next morning I was officially 26. I didn't feel any different - I still don't. I showered and pulled on my jeans before waking up my friend, who promptly revised our birthday plan due to the disobedient weather. She presented me with a birthday card and then three beautiful postcards, hinting at the day's activities. Something fashionable. Something gourmet. Something to pamper ourselves. Sadly the last would have to wait due to our late start (she wanted to take me to an art deco bath house), but I didn't mind when I found out my parents had given me a spa gift certificate for here in Rome. Besides, Alanna and I could have been stuck in a cave somewhere and it still would've been the best birthday in years.
I should state how I've spent the past few birthdays - always with one other person, and only one other person. Last year I planned dinner for 8 people in the private room at Blue Ribbon Bakery, cancelling at the last minute. Instead I forced (well, probably not forced) Regan to join me for a lowkey dinner. After she left I voluntarily opened my presents alone. And cried. 25 was a rough year for me, as some of you know. Maybe it was the whole 'holy-shit-i'm-really-not-a-kid-anymore' sentiment that comes with a quarter century. Maybe it was the fact that I hated my job and was on the cusp of a bout of serious depression. Maybe it was because for my 24th birthday I'd had a wonderful dinner with my then-boyfriend and I was disappointed that I wasn't currently dating someone. And even then, on that 24th birthday, I got the impression my date was doing me a favor by being there. So really, 26 had to be a good birthday - I was overdue. And I feel the same way about the whole year.
We arrived in Amsterdam 50 minutes after boarding the train in Den Haag and emerged to a rainy, windy, tourist-packed city. Alanna made her way quickly and ably through the crowds to a small falafel stand. Knowing how much I miss my NY street vendors (and any ethnic food that is NOT Italian), she treated me to a hearty helping of falafel with all the tahini and toppings a girl could ask for. The falafel had serious flavor, far surpassing any little balls of what tastes like bland matzoh-meal you get half the time at home. Not only could you actually taste the chickpeas, there was an ample dosing of parsley and coriander. They must have been fried in seriously hot oil because the inside remained soft and moist while the outside was a toasty, crispy, rich golden brown. Four balls were stuffed into a particularly dense, bready pita - slightly too bready for my taste - and then we were handed the little packages to dress at our leisure. I topped mine with tahini, some tomatoes and onions, pickles, and then, just so I could pick at it, a spoonful of North African carrot salad. The carrots had sweetened with their thorough roasting but the heavy shake of cumin and coriander, salt and pepper, gave them flavor other than 'cooked carrot' (something my sister hates, with good reason). We sat next to the bar so we could keep adding more tahini (or yogurt sauce, or hot sauce) with every bite. We left stuffed and smiling and ready to fight the elements, which came in handy as we made our way to the Neiuwe Kirke (sp?) for a special exhibit.
With Part 1 of Operation Allie's Birthday a success, we entered the New Church and were transported to my idea of heaven - a fashion exhibit put on by the Rijkmuseum. We spent 2 hours admiring everything from children's corsets to funeral robes, wedding gowns, wigs, and then some fabulous 40s bathing suits. Every section of the show began with a video montage on a large flatscreen TV. Clips from Amadeus, Sex & The City, videos of the Dutch royal family, and one of my favorite movies, Barry Lyndon, depicted fashions spanning the decades. And it was informative, too. Did you know that brides used to wear black to their weddings? It was a sign of wealth if you could afford the dye to darken your cloth, and a testament to the dowry offered by the bride's father.
After that I was lead to an out-of-the-way pastry house. As we pranced through the canals and streets I took full scope of the buildings around me and reminisced a bit about the architecture and history of New York. It's amazing how much of the Dutch influence is still evident. We ducked into this old, wood-paneled, comfortable and bright shop with just 5 small tables. Everyone in the place was speaking Dutch and at the front we selected our pastries with care - Alanna had a passion-fruit and raspberry cake topped with green tea mousse (and a small piece of chocolate which after further inspection - me eating it - we determined was only for decoration. whoops.). I opted for a small, more traditional tartlet filled with tahitian vanilla and passion fruit pastry cream, topped with fresh raspberries and sugared almonds. Alanna blew me away with her language skills and ordered the pastries for us with a pot of tea and we settled in. We had an amazing talk about the inmportance of friendship, what our own friendship means to each other, and the meaning of life. Okay, that last part is a lie but we definitely touched on some important subjects.
We strolled down the main shopping road in order to regain our appetites (notice how all of the activities are really just time-fillers between meals?) and tried a few things on without much success. After a quick aperitif and makeup application we found a cab and headed towards dinner. Having listened closely (she always does) to my request for ethnic food, Alanna had made reservations at a Japanese restaurant which was not only rated the best dining in Amsterdam and one of the top restaurants in all of the Netherlands, but also had a Michelin star. Look, I could go on for hours about this meal, but I will spare you the details. I'll list a few highlights of the 8-course tasting menu: champagne with cherry-blossom liqueur,, fried lobster, fresh chrysanthemums, melt-in-your-mouth mackerel sashimi, three kinds of raw tuna, authentic gummy green-tea and red-bean desserts. The dessert plate was even inscribed with 'Happy Birthday' in Dutch in chocolate sauce. The staff gathered to sing and clap, which after a bottle of wine and enough food to feed a small Japanese village - for a week - made for a very surreal experience. Did I mention we were there for almost 4 hours?
In order to help things settle we strolled all the way back to the train station in the damp evening air. We did the obligatory route through the red light district which still reminds me, though I've seen it now 3 times, of Disney's It's A Small World on acid. Really - what says Amsterdam other than wooden shoes, braided blondes, and tulips like legalized prostitution? It was a bit like being in Epcot Center but fascinating to go with Alanna, who always has information on the subject.
When we got home we had to ride our bikes back to her house from the Den Haag train station which made me feel truly Dutchie. I'd been nervous Friday morning when I mounted her rusty turqoise bike that made the trek all the was from Australia, not having ridden a bike in years. Some of you may remember a certain incident at USC that involved me, a cell phone, and a parked car. Honestly, that pared car came out of nowhere. But no, I was proficient and confident and found it quite exhilirating. It was sort of a metaphor for the entire weekend, really. Reconnecting with an old friend who knows me better than I know myself, rehashing old memories, laughing heartily and remembering what it is that makes me laugh. Getting back on that bike. My time in Rome has been peppered with fears and doubts and challenges and sometimes you focus so much on making things work that you don't let things happen organically. This was a healthy dose of letting go.
We stayed up late talking and slept until 11 the next day, and then headed to town for an Irish breakfast. I'd told her that as much as I love the coffee ritual here I longed for an all American weekend brunch. The small cafe owned by a Dutch-Irish couple didn't even start serving brekkie until 1pm, so we knew we'd come to the right place. We ended up feasting on sausage, eggs, bacon, black and white pudding, chips (fries), toast, jam, and teas. We then proceeded to sit and talk for another couple of hours. This time I asked for some guidance and direction and advice. What the hell was I doing here? What did I really want out of life? Alanna is like my personal guru in times like these. Always honest, knows me so well, and isn't afraid to tell me the truth. It was just what the doctor ordered - an entree of tough love with a side of thoughtfulness. I won't tell you everything we discussed (come on, some stuff should be kept private) but it was very thought provoking and has helped me sort some things out. Everyone should be so lucky to have a friend like this.
More shopping, followed by moroccan chickpea stew (did I mention she is a great chef? must be the Galati gene), a DVD, girl talk, a game of world-capitals (don't ask) and some apple pastries later we drifted off into dreamland and I slept like a baby. Sunday when I departed I felt sad to be leaving her and our time together. Even though we ate like kings and drank like fishes, I looked better upon returning. My skin was glowing and I was smiling. My mental health had taken a trip to the spa.
I've started morning classes now and am enjoying my new classmates - a Swedish bartender, a Russian linguist, a Brasillian economist, and my friends from last session (my favorite being these 2 German chicks and a Mexican girl from Cancun who didn't have very nice things to say about American spring-breakers. shocker.). While I haven't made an official decision yet, somethine Alanna and I talked about was me leaving Rome in December instead of March. I'm having fun, yes, but I've been transient for most of my adult life. Dare I say I'm ready to be a bit more settled? Own a place, focus on my career. This is a wonderful experience but I miss my friends and my family and my life as much as I did when I arrived. That hasn't dulled at all - if anything it's grown as Rome becomes less new and exciting and I settle into everyday life.
Per Alanna's sage advice, I need to focus on making myself happy. I need to stop expecting external forces to make me complete and content. Was Rome just another quick-fix? Maybe.
But I'm 26 now. I'm a big girl and need to make that decision, and any changes that supercede it, on my own. You can still wish me luck, though.
posted by Chaden at 1:30 PM
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