Some more notes on today

My not-so-Catalan-as-the-recipe-told-me-to-take-sausages are being fried now, and together with a genuine gesnipperde ui this creates a true aroma of home (yes, H&L!).

somewhat later...

I've just had a delicious dinner (like every day, really, which surprises me just as well as it does (some of) you: I can now justifiedly say that, albeit temporarily, I have been lifted from the status of Dining Hall Sucker); and dicovered how to make ordinary Tesco's bread taste like Kroepoek! (I'll give you the recipe if you like.)

There are still moments, just like in France, at which I apparently cannot realise I Am Actually Here. Followed by a moment of But Yes; Look: I Am Actually Here. Yesterday, for example, I watched a British sitcom. It was all rather wonderful and English and so on and so forth. After the broadcast came the familiar disappointment of finding yourself still in the Netherlands, in spite of the fact you can receive the BBC. Once again I thought: I really ought to go there myself some time... But wait a moment: I am already there, I mean here!
I assume you all know the feeling (except those who see nothing mythical in Abroad).

Back to today. Looking for an entrance to St Stephen's Church I stumbled upon something odd. It was two girls, sitting on a bench and chattering away. Now what's so odd about that? Well, it wasn't the fact that they were chattering: it was the way they did it: they did it in some language that was definitely not English. I stood still and listened. It did sound vaguely familiar. From deep down in me, something escaped to the surface: in fact, this was a language that was even more familiar to me than English, even though I had long ceased to speak it. Let me think for one more moment... of course, that was it: Dutch! I lingered for a moment to think whether I should approach them, because, in the end, we had something In Common. But immediately I knew it was a silly idea, because there was nothing to say, and, by the way, I didn't even feel like speaking Dutch, especially to perfect strangers. And so I entered St Stephen's Church. I had encountered my first two Dutchers.

On my way back through the park I decided to take a short-cut over a rather steep path. Not only was it rather steep, but rain and moss had made it a bit slippery. Actually, it was quite slippery. I was just pondering over the question whether I should walk a little slower when suddenly I sat right down on the ground, legs stretched in front of me, a rather surprised expression on my face. I sleighed on for some more feet, got up and wiped the soil from my red hands. Only my head got quite a blow through my spine, and is still pounding.

Anyway:
I'm off to choir!

Camera Obscura

Today is an eventful - and happy - day. And it isn't even over yet.

Nothing spectacular happened actually, but in some way many small things are giving me a feeling of both content and curiosity or wonder, or, combining these things: I am satisfied because I can find an interest in my life, by which I by no means want to say that my life is in any way remarkable, but merely that I personally have not ceased to wonder - on days like these.

You probably know the kind of day that many things have to be done, but that seems strangely empty once it's over, leaving you with many unfinished tasks and a feeling of exhaustion that will not be cured by sleep because there will be no sleep for the first hour or so to come, because, first, your feeling of stress has to be conquered. Yesterday was such a day. Let's not talk about it.

Today started with a lecture by Kate Fisher, about whom I will undoubtedly write more later on, in which she nicely summarised various interesting things I had read or seen elsewhere. This is the kind of lecture you would want at 9 in the morning.

Then I stopped on the hill leading to my room to take an absolutely stunning picture of the building I had just had class in, and of the hills and trees surrounding it.

Thursday Laundry day. After almost three weeks I thought it time to discover Cornwall House's laundry facilities. I stuffed everything in grandmother's trunk - including some fine Tesco's omni-purpose washing powder - and headed for the porter's lodge. First, I made an extensive study of the dryer tumblers' manual. Fortunately I had to ask some girl what the different thermometer pictos meant, or I would not have found out I could also use the machines opposite instead - at least if I wanted the soap I was about to add to have any effect. Now please don't let this add to your already quite strong image of Clumsy Anna: there really wasn't any clear sign of the respective functions of the different machines!
The washing machines carried the same lack of temperature designations as the tumblers did, and of speed choice, and of washing program. So I "inserted" my sheets, made sure the door was "shut firmly", and fed the machine one coin of 50, one of 20 and one of 10p - all at the same time, or it would refuse to do anything for me (assured me another girl). Then the manual advised me to press "start" - only no such button was to be found, only one marked "emergency stop", which I preferred to leave alone. However, my worries were ungrounded, as the machine put itself into motion without any of my help: a true wasautomatiek!

In the meantime I collected a fourth and fifth parcel from my favourite porter (I met about four of them by now) - next to a Waters, a Butler and a Nye I now also am the proud owner of a Foucault and a Culler (I regret I haven't taken any Ex Libris' with me). In short: I love new books, especially when they are sent to me. When can I expect any "brown papered packages" from the Netherlands? The rest of the time I spent listening to this kindergarten's merry sounds coming from the neat rows of playpens with their laughing and tumbling contents... and rereading Rosenwein's Short history of the Middle Ages.

Next on the program was finding a place to dry my sheets and towels, having lunch (today I had some delicious goat cheese with honey and thyme - not too bad a place, England, is it, m&d?) and reading some more Rosenwein and Bill Bryson, who describes his encounters with British culture as he travels round the island - now and in the decades before, when he first set foot on it (he is An American). Some parts of it I recognise, some make me want to see more of England than I am able now (but hey: I still have a master's and a PhD to go!), and some do neither as these places do not any longer exist: they are plain nostalgic.

Off for Boots! I could finally collect my pictures of Amsterdam and of the first week here. After three weeks of immigrant consumer's experience I was prepered for the worst. The queue was bad indeed (why can't English shopkeepers just hire enough staff?), but I've accustomed myself to carrying a book with me whenever I have to make any purchases. Anyway: the price was a dashing 3.99 instead of the 15 pounds I was prepared to pay (especially after the shop assistent's frown last week when I told her it concerned black and white film).

This night, the Great Rains have stopped. Since Sunday's morning walk it seemed as if England, too, had finally entered autumn. But no. One of Exeter's parks, up hill, is even more radical in its refusal of cold: fresh green leaves and roses everywhere, as if I had really entered the Queen's eternal-summer Croquet Ground. So, as the rains have stopped again, I decided to extent my stay in the city somewhat. Although, as said, I was completely stressed out yesterday, I now was in the kind of mood in which I am able to say to myself that such things as seminars and deadlines actually do not matter. So I took a walk over some archaeological findings, the marketplace (where I found some local farmer's pastries. Did I already mention the world of difference between British and Dutch cake(s)?), St. Stephen's Church&Bow (those visiting me will see!), and the above-mentioned Northernhay Gardens, and finally sat down in a warm and bright sun to have a look at the pictures I have waited for so long (almost as long as you have been waiting for this sentence to stop). The fact is, you should know, that up until now, among the dozens of pictures of friends and family in my room, one important picture was missing.

So here I am, sitting at my desk, with an overwhelming eight handsome men to choose from...