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Queen’s Day 101

April 30 is Queen’s Day in the Netherlands, the biggest holiday of the year. This year’s Queen’s Day was extra special: it’s the last one in this generation, as Queen Beatrix abdicated in favor of her son Willem-Alexander, who was crowned King in Amsterdam yesterday.

Starting next year, Queen’s Day becomes King’s Day, and will move from the 30th to the 26th of April. Though the dates might change, the festivities never will. If you ever find yourself in Amsterdam on Queen’s—er, King’s Day, here’s how to celebrate it like a local.

1) Score a bargain.

Love pawing through strangers’ rubbish? You’ll love Queen’s Day. Amsterdam becomes one big flea market, with residents cleaning out attics and staking out places on the pavement days in advance. Find the biggest square or most central thoroughfare in your neighborhood—for us, it was Haarlemmerdijk, which was mobbed—and pack a shopping bag.

Most of the sellers are little kids, so be warned: they will use the cute factor to their advantage. But don’t be afraid to haggle! Even if you don’t score any deals, walking around and exploring the city-wide flea market is the best way to soak up the party atmosphere.

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3 Comments
Posted on May 1, 2013
Category: Life in Amsterdam · Labels: Amsterdam, baby, babywearing, first, Queen's Day

A walk in Westerpark

After three weeks of being bound to hospital and house, Tala and I took our first walk in the park this weekend. It was chaos getting mommy and baby dressed and ready to go (do daddies ever have this problem?), but what a feeling when we finally made it out the front door!

Being from a land where babies go out in cotton tops and diapers, I need to get used to dressing Tala for cold weather. Tying on her little knit hat made me terrified that I would accidentally choke her. The fact that she hates being dressed up (a child of mine that hates clothes? This cannot be!) didn’t make it easier. But once she was bundled up in her bassinet, she was totally fine and slept, as the saying goes, like a baby.

It was a sunny spring weekend and I was glad to finally be out and about. This is how long I’ve been away from the Philippines, a notoriously walking-averse nation: I now fantasize about and enjoy going on walks.

We are so lucky to live close to Westerpark, one of Amsterdam’s biggest city parks. Within the park is the Westergasfabriek, a former gasworks that dates back to 1885. After it closed in 1967, the beautiful brick buildings in the complex were given over to creative workspaces, festivals and events.

There’s always something going on here, and I love that energy.

Westerpark is also dotted with public art, which made our walk even more fun.

And look! Regular, non-pregnancy clothes! Although I did wear this dress from Bleach Catastrophe during my last trimester. I still need to edit my closet and see what outfits are both nursing-friendly and more forgiving to my post-partum silhouette.

I was so excited to be out in the sun with Marlon and Tala that I ended up pushing myself a little more than I should. By the time we got back home, I could hardly walk, and I was in serious pain for the rest of the evening. It’s easy to forget what happened to me, and I constantly have to remind myself to be more patient with myself and my body. But I’m so glad I had this sunny Saturday at the park with my family. Here’s to many more to come!

11 Comments
Posted on April 8, 2013
Category: Life in Amsterdam · Labels: Amsterdam, first, Tala, Westerpark

First trimester: Scan me twice

I was lucky enough to have an ultra-normal first trimester: no strange cravings, no debilitating morning sickness or vomiting (apparently another genetic blessing from my mom), no moody hormonal outbursts. The only thing that was unusual was that a) I slept through most of my first trimester, and b) I got to have two ultrasound scans, right within two weeks of each other.

I had my first scan at 8 weeks, which I posted here. When I called my midwives’ practice to set another appointment, they were surprised that I hadn’t been told to come back at 10 weeks. Then they insisted that I had to come back for another one, because the baby was now the proper size to get an accurate measurement (and a fixed due date).

This was all last minute, the day we left for Budapest. I had a lot of freelance work to finish up, and Marlon couldn’t get away from the office. I was thoroughly annoyed, but I went anyway—alone.

During the first ultrasound, the baby looked like this.

“Those are the legs, arms, feet and head,” pointed out the rather perfunctory ob-gyne on duty. (Okay, we were late, so he had a right to be a bit short with us.)

“Hmmm,” I muttered, squinting hard.

“And now the baby is moving,” he said, when the little mango-shaped blob gave a little wriggle.

“Oh. Wow,” I coughed, a little more enthusiastically.

The second ultrasound appointment was a world of difference. Whatever irritation I felt at having to come back for another scan completely disappeared when I saw this.

My baby’s parts didn’t have to be pointed out to me, and I could see them clearly for myself: the head (with a tiny nose and chin!), torso, bottom, legs, even a shadow of a hand near his mouth.

Then suddenly that little hand shot out, like a punch, and two tiny legs straightened and stretched out, flash-quick. In my mind I went heng! heng! which is the sound my muay thai trainers back in Singapore made with their punches and kicks. Silly, I know.

This is going to sound dumb, but that was the first time I started to believe that there really was a baby inside me. The fog of unreality was still there, but it was lifting.

And not only was there a baby inside me, it was growing. Our little mango had grown from 21.3mm (less than one inch) to 46.3mm (about two inches). It doesn’t seem like much, but to actually double in size in just two weeks is a huge difference! And I’m glad I had the chance to see that difference for myself.

I realized how stupid I was for being annoyed about that second appointment. Any opportunity to see my baby, to know that she’s still inside me, healthy and growing, could never be an inconvenience. This mommy-to-be still has a lot to learn.

3 Comments
Posted on September 13, 2012
Category: Pregnancy · Labels: baby, first, pregnancy

Budapest the beautiful

I haven’t played the tag-along wife in quite a while. When Marlon was required to travel to Budapest on business, I leapt at the chance to reassume a long-neglected role. Although readjusting to traveling by myself was a little lonely, I had no regrets. Because easily, Budapest is one of the most beautiful capital cities I’ve ever been to.

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3 Comments
Posted on August 30, 2012
Category: Wanderlust · Labels: Budapest, Europe, first, Hungary, travel

Nine weeks

When Marlon and I moved to Amsterdam, we knew that we wanted this to be the place where the next chapter in our lives would unfold. And now that it’s really happening, I can hardly believe it.

Say hello to our little mango, the nine week-old adventurer who has already traveled to Iceland (without us knowing it!), the baby who will come into the world in March 2013, and the reason why Marlon and I are so, so happy.

At this point, our baby is not really a mango… more like a grape, actually. But when we saw her for the first time during the first ultrasound last week, she (and I’m just going to use “he” and “she” interchangeably here, I don’t really like “it”) already had discernible legs, arms, a head, an umbilical cord, and a beating heart—a whole, entire person in less than an inch.

And when she moved… suddenly she wasn’t an idea, a plan, or a picture on a screen anymore, but a real living miracle inside my body. It’s simply amazing. I still have difficulty wrapping my head around it sometimes.

More to come soon, including how I’ve been feeling, what it’s like to be pregnant in the Netherlands, and a veritable buffet of yummy comfort food care of my amazing husband. There’s much to share, but don’t worry… this blog isn’t going to turn into a pregnancy diary overnight. Life goes on… but it just got a whole lot better.

This post is part of the August Post of the Month Club over at Life on Planet Baby!

27 Comments
Posted on August 15, 2012
Category: Pregnancy · Labels: baby, first, happiness, pregnancy

Iceland: Fun with glaciers (Part 1)

A little over 11 percent of Iceland is covered by glaciers, and it’s impossible to miss them. Sticking their tongues out at us from various vantage points on the Ring road (they really are called glacier tongues, by the way), glaciers beckoned with the promise of fun, adventure and great photos.

It was my first time to ever see a glacier, so I could hardly resist its call. As I soon discovered, there are many fun things you can do with glaciers in Iceland, such as:

1) Walk on a glacier. As a decidedly non-athletic person of a nationality that hates walking, this to me is the pinnacle of all the things I could conceivably do involving a glacier. Skaftafell, the gateway to the Vatnajökull National Park, seemed like the perfect place to give glacier walking a try. Vatnajökull is the largest glacier outside of the polar regions, but that wasn’t very relevant to me; I mean, I wasn’t about to walk the entire thing. Instead, Marlon and I signed up for a 2.5-hour easy glacier hike with Glacier Guides—a 1-2 out of 5 on the difficulty scale, which seemed just about my speed.

For 6,900 ISK (47.50 EUR or 58 USD), Glacier Guides outfitted us with an ice pick, hiking shoes (because mine were not very sensible)…

… and crampons, metal contraptions that you step into and strap onto your feet for traction on the ice.

Our Icelandic guide Jon (which must be the most common name in Iceland) took us in this big yellow bus…

… to a point where we started a 20-minute hike over sandy, shifting and rocky terrain towards the Faljökull glacier. I felt like such a wuss, because I fell several times during the hike, not to mention huffed and puffed so hard on my short legs that I felt like I was going to die. This was really not a good look, especially when everyone else seemed to be taking to this terrain like young mountain goats.

The only thing that kept me going was how embarrassing it would be to bow out of the glacier walk… before the glacier walk actually started! It later turned out that there was a very good reason I struggled with this hike, which I will share later on.

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6 Comments
Posted on August 2, 2012
Category: Wanderlust · Labels: Europe, first, Iceland, travel

Fashion first: the one-piece jumpsuit

They say 30 is when you shed the insecurities of your 20s and become more confident and comfortable in your own skin. One way I’m finding that to be true is in my own personal style. Though I was much thinner years ago, I was too self-conscious to be adventurous. I secretly nursed many fashion fantasies; I would admire a piece of clothing in a store or magazine, try to picture myself in it, then tell myself I couldn’t possibly look half as good as other women would look in it. Then I would walk away.

The one-piece jumpsuit, or onesie, was one of these fashion fantasies. I always thought they looked fun and playful, but nothing I could actually wear. That changed when I spotted a cobalt blue jumpsuit in Zara that I thought would be perfect for a tall, blond, blue-eyed friend. When she didn’t bite, I found myself trying it on… and to my surprise, liking how it looked on me.

I chose to debut my one-piece jumpsuit in Venice. It was the perfect location for a personal fashion first—and to feel like, as Jason said, a 70s movie villainess. Like I had just arrived in Venice via private seaplane. Like I should have been slinking around with a crystal champagne flute, ivory cigarette holder, and entourage of assistants.

You know what they say about wearing something and owning it? I owned it all right, but not the way you’d think. It was more like wearing the jumpsuit made me feel like I owned… everything.

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51 Comments
Posted on June 5, 2012
Category: Personal Style, Wanderlust · Labels: Europe, fashion, first, Italy, travel, Venice

Antwerp by day, Antwerp by night

Marlon and I recently had a weekend visit from his cousin Yeho, who lives in Heidelberg, Germany. At her behest (and with her car), we drove down to Antwerp for the day. I’ve always wanted to go, and the car was the catalyst for me to finally overcome my inertia. Clocking in at just 2.5 hours, it’s a really easy drive. Yes, Belgium is the new Batangas.

We left at around noon and arrived in the center of town in time for a late lunch, and started the drive back a little after dinnertime. Having two meals in Antwerp was of paramount importance, since Belgium smacks the Netherlands to the ground in terms of cuisine.

For me, a visit to Belgium is not complete without a large pot of mussels, a Belgian beer, and a fantastic dessert—usually a dame blanche (“white lady”), a childhood favorite of mine and the Belgian equivalent of a hot fudge sundae. Some say it’s a Catholic vs Protestant thing, while others ascribe it to proximity to France, but whatever the reason is, I am gobsmacked by how meals can be so radically different just across the border!

In between meals, we strolled, shopped and saw a few sights. With only a few hours at our disposal, we barely scratched the surface. Luckily, we were parked right in the center of town, so leaving the car in the afternoon and returning to it at in the evening gave us the opportunity to see some of Antwerp’s iconic buildings in two distinct lights.

The Cathedral of Our Lady was closed, so we missed out on some of Peter Paul Rubens’ most famous works housed within. We did get nice day vs night views of this impressive Gothic structure…

… as well Grote Markt, or Old Market Square. It was a smaller-scale version of Brussels’ Grand Place, with similar gabled guild houses. A big difference is in what it’s called; I didn’t see any signs pointing to a Grand Place here. Being so close to the Netherlands, Dutch is more widely spoken in Antwerp than French; our smattering of Nederlands actually helped us get around and read menus. Here’s the Grote Markt by day…

… and by night. If the perpetual rain is good for anything, it’s for making cobblestones gleam.

On one side of the Grote Markt is the Stadhuis, or City Hall. Again, by day…

… and by night.

Driving into the city, our curiosities were piqued by this stunning building. It turned out to be the Museum aan de Stroom, or MAS, a museum about the city of Antwerp “and its relationship with the world.” (Iiiiiinteresting.) Built by famous Belgian architects Neutelings Riedijk, Antwerp’s history as an important port city inspired this design of shipping containers stacked in a spiral. We returned in the evening, but the museum was already closed; this definitely warrants a return trip!

Fortunately, the surrounding quayside, Het Eilandje (“The Islet”), was also a good area to end up in, being a former port area with interesting bars and restaurants. It was hard to get into a restaurant without a reservation, but we managed to find a table at a great bar called Het Duvels Genot (literally, “The Duvel Enjoyment”… kind of like the Heineken Experience, I guess).

I’ve learned to expect crappy food when I walk into a bar in Amsterdam, but Belgium thoroughly has a leg up in this area. We had an awesome meal cooked with a variety of beers from the Duvel brewery, with hearty portions and reasonable prices. It was another one of those times where I was so involved with my food, I totally forgot to take pictures. Definitely a good reason (of many!) to make a return trip.

1 Comment
Posted on March 1, 2012
Category: Food & Drink, Wanderlust · Labels: Antwerp, Belgium, Europe, first, food, museums, travel

Schaatsen op de grachten

… or in English, skating on the canals. Yay!

Just as winter doesn’t automatically translate to snow, it also doesn’t necessarily mean ice. In Amsterdam, where winters are relatively milder, ice is a rare thing. There’s too much moisture in the air here (I know, humid pa pala sa lagay na ‘to) and the city is warmer than the countryside. Smaller canals and ponds outside the city freeze faster, but the canals in Amsterdam are a different animal altogether.

So when the mercury (and the snow) began to fall, you could feel excitement rising in the air, prickling and spiking with every degree that dropped below zero. The city was literally abuzz with one question: “Are the canals going to freeze?”

Freeze they did. This has led to my discovery of the one other thing, apart from summer, that creates happiness for the Dutch on a national level. And that is… the ice.

Heading out to the canals was like seeing a Dutch painting come to life. I was particularly reminded of the Hendrick Avercamp winterscape displayed in the Rijksmuseum.

Winter Landscape with Ice Skaters, image via Wikipedia

I’ve also discovered why ice drives the Dutch bonkers. Simply put, ice = skating. In Amsterdam, it means skating with a UNESCO World Heritage Site as your backdrop. The last time the canals were any good for ice skating was 15 years ago; some parts haven’t been skated on since the 1970s. This winter, the city closed some of the locks, or gates, to help the canals freeze over faster.

When Megamall opened its ice skating rink in the 90s, I was there on the very first day. So how could I possibly miss out on this?

Photo courtesy of Michelle

Join me on the ice, after the cut!

I wasn’t the only first-timer on the ice that day. It was also a first for Michelle’s baby girl Maddy, who slept through it all.

Natural ice means having to buy your own skates; nobody rents them out here. Most people own their own skates, and many Dutchies prefer the ones with the extra long blades that are made for speed skating. Mine are the most inexpensive kind I could find—just regular figure skates for girls.

Another difference between real vs. rink ice: big ripples and bumps that throw you way off balance. Also, I learned that ice is thinner (or doesn’t form at all) under the bridges, where it’s warmer.

I was wobbly and tentative, unable to go far without holding on to a friend. But I loved every minute of it.

All I had to do to clear myself of panic was take a deep breath, look up, and see Amsterdam’s historic canal houses and soft glowing sky.

I enjoyed it so much, I had to come back the next day. With a real, palpable fiesta atmosphere pervading the city (especially around the canal belt), a return was simply impossible to resist.

The Dutch bring their culture of gezelligheid (coziness) to the ice, creating an atmosphere of fun, community and warmth (yes, even in the freezing cold!). Everyone was so friendly and happy. You could leave your shoes on the sides and nobody would take them. A guy skated right up to me and my friend and offered to take our photo. People were setting up picnics and parties on the ice…

… and serving hot snacks and drinks from canalside cafes and terraces. Some of the houseboat owners got in on the action and began selling coffee out their windows. And I had a few adorable kids skate up to me and ask if I wanted a cup of tea.

My girlfriends and I skated from one terrace to another, stopping for gossip and gluhwein (hot spiced wine) along the way. My newbie skating legs welcomed the break, and my frozen limbs welcomed the warm wine.

Ironically enough, the only other non-skater in our group was also the only Dutch girl in the group! Sophia (on the left) and I clung to each other for dear life, shrieking and giggling our way down the Prinsengracht. “Of course we can’t skate,” she cried, “we’re intellectuals!”

In contrast, our friend Karyn was a pro on the ice. She took lessons when she was younger and even once shared the ice with the infamous Tonya Harding.

How I would have loved to get an early start, like so many kids I saw on the canals. Pushing a chair around is how you start learning and developing your balance. And I guess bundling up for the ice is how you start developing a sense of winter style.

I never thought I’d hear myself saying it, but I’m almost sad to see an end to the below-zero temperatures. The days were sunny, crisp and bright, and the ice was just… magical. We won’t get that with temperatures above zero; instead it’s a return to Amsterdam’s prevalent gray and gloom.

I’ll miss this sight for sure. So many people—especially friends who have lived in Amsterdam for over a decade—told us how extremely lucky we were to experience during on our first winter here. I don’t know if it will happen again while we’re here, but I will harbor the hope that the ice returns to the Amsterdam canals next winter.

2 Comments
Posted on February 12, 2012
Category: Life in Amsterdam · Labels: Amsterdam, first, friends, skating, winter

Up, up and away

I knew Marlon and I were going to arrive in Goreme past midnight. I also knew that we would have to be picked up at the hotel before dawn. So I knew there was more than a slight chance that I would look back at my 30th birthday pictures and think that I looked like the biggest living eyebag that ever walked this earth. But I knew, more than anything, that I wanted this to be the first thing I did upon turning 30.

So I went for it. My first hot-air balloon flight! And because there are times when even pictures are not enough, I made a video so you could all come along for the ride.

I was stumped for a soundtrack until my wonderful friend Jeline sent me a link to “One Day Like This” by Elbow. It’s awesome to have friends who have great taste in music. Thanks Jeliney!

Oh, and I think it’s so cool that the date of my 30th birthday is printed right on my flight certificate.

Some notes on the flight after the jump:

I have a fear of heights. Observation decks? With glass floors? Hate ‘em. So I was a bit worried about how I would respond to this flight. But hot air balloons are now my favorite way to reach the skies. The takeoff is unbelievably gentle. It helps that you always feel something solid—the basket—under your feet. I didn’t even feel the balloon leaving the ground.

Speaking of heights, I had the misfortune to be riding with the loudest, most annoying woman in the world. She just wouldn’t. Stop. Talking. Everything, and I mean everything she saw triggered a barrage of verbal diarrhea.

“Ohmygodlook, a Ford Everest. I want a Ford Everest, honey I really want one of those. Beth tells me they give great mileage. Ohmygod, a cat. So cute. There are so many cats here. It’s unbelievable. Do you know why there are so many cats here? Ohmygoodlook, the balloons! There are the balloons, honey! Do you see the balloons? They look so scary! Ohmygodwait. Is that fire? Are they on fire? ARE THEY ON FIRE?!?! I don’t want to be inside the one that looks like it’s on fire!” Lady, there is a reason they are called hot air balloons. What do you think creates the hot air?

It got so uncomfortably loud in the van (“Small space! Loud sounds!” is what we used to tell our playgroup toddlers) that even her boyfriend/husband tried to shut her up tactfully by saying, “Wow. I didn’t know you were so talkative in the morning.” She retorted: “I’m only like this when I’m scared.” It was like this all the way until we got into the air.

All 16 of us in the balloon were the most unfortunate recipients of a blow-by-blow commentary on how nervous she was at any given moment. To the pilot: “So, you do know what you’re doing right? Have you been doing this long? I just want to be sure.” Pilot’s semi-sarcastic reply, delivered with a smile: “Oh yes. About two whole weeks.

While up in the clouds: “Down! Let’s go down. Down is good. Down is a great idea.” Lady, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t pay €150 for “down.” We all paid for up.

Here’s the clincher. The pilot attempts to reassure her with a few facts about flying. Her response: “Oh no, I know all about flying. I fly Cessnas. Back home in Arizona I fly planes all the time.” WHUUUT? Then why the heck would you be nervous about—oh, never mind! I’m 30 now, I can’t afford to create any more wrinkles.

For a blissful, soaring hour and a half, this hot air balloon ride made me feel like I was in heaven. Too bad I had to share it with the traveler from hell!