May the Olympic Force Be With You! - And I mean ALL of you.

We are a family of sports lovers - no doubt about it. 
Olympic years have a little extra glow, in this house. The television (not a thing which has an extremely important place in my life) suddenly becomes a permanent light source, for it is on all the time.

Not being able to ski, or rodel, or speedskate, or curl myself, I watch the athletes with baited breath, hoping that they will have a great day and that they will put down the performance of their lifetime.

And obviously I hope that my fellow Dutchmen will do well. We have the potential winners of a couple of gold medals, so...I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for Sven and Irene and the rest of them.

My dear Reader, the introduction of this blog is now at an end.

What follows is the main argument. And therefor I am now warning you, gently, that if you are of the Putin-persuasion, it isn't safe to continue reading!

Peace, my friend.

I believe in equality. People, all people, you people, were created equal. 

Religion is simply this: a belief created by people to give them something to hold on to, to believe in.

I believe in people. Am I a Humanist then? Perhaps. I don't like dogma. I don't like someone telling others what to believe and what not. (Am I biting my own tail here? Yes, I am. But it is for a reason. And no, I'm NOT telling you what to believe and what not. I'm trying to make a point)

Human rights cannot be ignored.

What irks me, is that the little mistake of one snowflake not opening during the opening ceremony last night, gets more attention than the direct hint in the opening speech of IOC chairman Mr. Bach that the Olympic Games are intended for ALL people. 

I will not tell the Russian people what to believe in. I will not tell them how to live their lives, who to vote for, or how to love. Who am I? I am nobody.

But I wish that all Russians would have the freedom to decide for themselves who, and how to love.

It's love, what it comes down to, in the end. 

I wish you a lovely time watching the Olympics!

Abafazi : go to this show if you want an uplifting evening!

Going to the theatre is one of the joys of my life. Especially when it is musical theatre.
Ever since I went to the Shaffy Theater in Amsterdam when I was 17, I was hooked. And I still go as often as I can manage, now that I am deep into my 5th decade, and approaching the 6th.

African music has a special place in my heart, since my Mum brought home an lp of Ipitombi from Johannesburg in the 70's. I 'borrowed' this, and have played it again and again and again. So, whenever there's a show with African music near Rotterdam, I go.
I saw Umoja in the Luxor Theatre, and the African Mamas in the New Luxor (twice), and numerous smaller productions. And now this one: Abafazi, meaning 'women' in Zulu, I'm told.

The energy these women display! I would be dead within 10 minutes if I had to dance, drum and sing at the same time. And they keep this up for 2 hours!
And another observation: we Dutch females can learn a thing or two about feeling at home in your own body. Some of the Abafazi artists are 'big' to put it mildly. But they shine, and dazzle, and are gorgeous.

So...they have an extensive playlist and a FB page, so you have absolutely NO excuse to not go to one of their shows. 
Enjoy it!

The Great Flood of 1953 - why we Dutchies have a healthy respect for water.

February 1953 is ages ago, yes. But the thought that the large body of water on our doorsteps isn't only our recreation ground or our living (if you are a sailor or a fisherman), but can be bloody menacing, is never far away in our parts.

The topmost two photos were taken in 1953, not very far from my home on the island of Voorne, as the crow flies. The bottom one was taken in 1993, more to the south.

What they have in common is water flooding the land unexpectedly, resulting in loss of life and economic disaster.

The first well documented flood is Saint Elisabeth's Flood in 1492. It swallowed almost the entire province of what is now called Zeeland (Sealand), with a massive loss of life. The motto of Zeeland is 'Luctor et Emergo' ; how well chosen!

Friends of ours, over on the next island of Goeree-OverFlakkee, have great respect as well as fear of the water that flooded their villages in 1953. They were able to flee to the scarce higher ground in their village, a dyke just above the waterline, thus staying alive. And, like real islanders, they don't like to talk about this period. 

But I know that they are always wary of storms, especially in February, when there are storm surges. And I must admit, living in a bowl more than 4 m. below sea level, I always keep an eye out for the weather forecast and a keen ear for how storms behave.

Years ago, when we were still living in our old house, and had only a dog and a cat to care for, I was relaxing on the couch, reading, when my old friend Freya jumped up on the couch with me and whined. I scolded her, but she wouldn't budge. Then I realised her paws were wet, so I looked down, only to see that there was 10 cm of water on my floors.

And only this Summer, in a freak downpour which seemed to go on forever, I saw the water level of my pond rise and rise, until the water streamed into the garden and nearly came into the house.

The cause wasn't so much the rain (which was heavy), but the fact that there are too many houses, and that the water cannot drain away anymore, and the drains cannot cope, and the land (heavy clay over here) becomes waterlogged.

We have two things to worry about: the danger from the sea ( 2 km from my house) and the danger from the big rivers. The sea we have 'tamed', by our Delta Works, massive dams and storm ramps. The rivers are less easily governed. Many of the river dykes are old, and not well kept. In 1993 the flooding came from the rivers. 

Why do you live there? People do ask this, and it is a good question. I think it is the same question you can ask someone who lives on the fertile slope of a volcano. 

Why DO we live here? Because we were born here. Because our families are here. Because our work is here. Because gathering up our entire lives and moving somewhere else (where?), is too much of an effort.

Nevertheless. Whenever there is a storm brewing, and a flood warning, I ask myself the same question.

A little compassion goes a long way...Why people need to recover tenderness.

A little song, sang by Simon Oak

Good morning to you, on this first day of February.
I am in a sad mood, and I'll tell you why.
I opened my FB, to browse the comments of my FB friends along with my first cup of coffee of the day, and what do I see?

- A photo of a badly beaten young man in Stuttgart - his face thrashed, no other word for it, and the appeal by his dad to find who has done this (and ran away).
- A photo of the leg of a horse, completely ripped to shreds, and the appeal of its owner to find the car driver who did this (and didn't stop).
- A photo of two dogs being boiled alive in a tub of boiling water, and the appeal for people to stop these practices (which are allowed in some parts of the world)
- A song (the link is above this post) about a young girl who was abused and died, along with her baby.
- A beautiful little story about a young man who was stopped from killing himself on Waterloo Bridge (London) by a complete stranger (and who, 6 years later, appealed to the public to find his rescuer, and did)

I stopped browsing there and then, and - with my second cup of coffee - thought about a little song I used to play over and over again when I was 17 and living by myself in Amsterdam, totally and utterly alone. It was the kindness of strangers which helped me cope, then. And it is the kindness of strangers which is, in my opinion, the only rescue remedy for this world we live in.

The song goes like this (lyrics by Herman van Veen and translated from Dutch, so cut me some slack):

Ik heb dat tedere gevoel 
voor elke vrouw, voor elke man 
die in volkomen weerloosheid

 een ander mens beminnen kan.

I have that feeling of tenderness
for every woman, for every man
who is with utter defenselessness
able to love another human being

Dat tedere gevoel - Herman van Veen (guitar Harry Sacksioni)

The last example above, a story I got from the BBC, is an example of hope. Sure, there are people in this world who, with no thought for themselves, stop to help another person.

And sure, set off against all the violence in Central Africa, in Syria, in the Ukraine, what is one guy in Stuttgart, or one horse, or a dog?

But I am deeply convinced that ordinary people, you and me, can make a difference in this world we occupy. By showing that tenderness towards all people, and animals, that need our compassion.

So. I'll forgive that blockhead in school who called me a cunt the day before yesterday, and when I see him on Monday, I'll give him another chance. If I can find it in my heart, so can you, I'm certain.

And now you may call me an old silly Hippy, I don't care. The ideals from the sixties and seventies weren't that bad!

Maison & Objet - part 3: the floral displays.

Do you like flowers? I do. But ever since we got our mischievous cat Viggo, it's touch and go for living greenery in our home. He either ignores it (if we're lucky), or he tries to climb it, eat it, dig it over, play with it and generally demolishes it within an hour.
Having no plants or flowers in my house is inconceivable to me, so we've resorted to displaying fakes. The cheaper ones (not in my home) look just like that: cheap fakes. But the more expensive kind are so well made that people visiting us often mistake them for the real thing. Next to my real, cherished, purple Anthurium (which Viggo leaves alone) are fake orchids, and the compliments I receive for them always make me smile.

I fell for this exhibit; very Oriental (which fascinates me), but not a riot of colour - very simple, very peaceful, most Zen. Everything you can see is fake, mostly silk. And gorgeously indistinguishable from the real thing.

This Mimosa is so French to me (although an Australian FB friend informed me it is known as wattle over there and is common as dirt); I adore it as it smells divine and will not grow in my Wetlands. This display was for the benefit of the cups, and the flowers are real. Pretty enough to put as a banner over this blog!

This display is all silk, and totally over the top as far as I'm concerned. It was approx. 1 m. high. But it would look good in the right environment.

Ermm...no comment. (We have a 'thing' for Christmas decorations in our house. It's absolutely harmless and not contagious, don't worry)

:-)

I'll leave you with two of my own little flower displays. We grow the flowers in our own garden, and obviously I can only pick them in Summer. Can you identify them?

See you again soon!

Update on the Public Transport blog - Had quite a scare this afternoon!

Hi folks,

I usually shrug and call it Murphy's Law when my bus leaves just when I come barreling through the Tube gates, but today...

Just missed the bus...But the next one along is a speed liner, so I simply shrugged and took the one 7 minutes later. I was reading my Rudyard Kipling (Kim), when my bus skidded just before turning onto the special bus lane along the Kanaal (channel) door Voorne. So I looked up, and saw that the bus I should have been on was standing just beyond the traffic lights, and people were leaving it, as there was smoke coming out of the back and there appeared to be flames as well.

So what do you do, as a blogger in 2014...With shame I'll admit I started taking photographs.

My bus turned onto the ordinary highway, on the other side of the Kanaal, and as we on board looked out of the windows to the burning bus, at the exact moment we were passing it, it blew. BOOM!!!

My heart was in my mouth, I can tell you.

The third photo was passed on to me by a friend in the next bus behind me.

I am very glad to be able to tell you that, as far as we now know, although the bus burnt out completely, nobody was injured. Hellevoetsluis has 40.000 inhabitants, but it's a village, really. We all know someone who knows someone...if you get my drift.

I feel my guardian Frith has served me well, this afternoon!

Vive la France! - Welcome to my visitors from the home of Marianne!

Maison & Objet - Part 2

A wall full of the most amazing, funny, creative clocks imaginable. We would have liked to take home at least a dozen. But how many clocks does a person need?

At Maison & Objet we saw things we never realised anyone could ever need...

Take these two peacocks, for example. Would you put them on your mantlepiece? They are so over the top kitsch that it becomes stylish.

And this I really liked! It appears to be glass, but actually was rubber, or something like that, it was flexible. Lovely colours, lovely shapes, great invention! It's Italian, by the way. Trust them to make their own Venetian glassware look boring by comparison.

Ah! Someone used my favourite colours! I would love the prints on the wall as well. Perhaps I'll pinch the idea (shhhh! don't tell anyone)

Okay, I'll give you another update soon. It's upstairs to bed for me now, I get up awfully early in the morning.

Bonne nuit!