German Christmas Markets

I honestly never heard of German Christmas markets until I moved to the Netherlands but apparently they’re pretty famous. Living so close to the border, we decided to visit the nearest Christmas market to see what all the fuss was about.  We boarded the only bus heading to the town of Kleve and made the 45 minute trip across the border to the Christmas Market. We arrived just after sunset which made the lights in the park really sparkle.

Within minutes of walking into the park we insulted one of the German vendors. Gearoid and I have been looking for scented candles to make the house smell “like Christmas,” ( surprisingly this was Gearoid’s idea). The vendor had candles but we quickly saw that they were for just for decoration. When I stated this aloud- forgetting that just because we were in a foreign country doesn’t mean that people don’t understand English- the burly German man bristled at my implication that his candles were less than adequate. I explained that they were beautiful but we were looking for scented candles. Gearoid added, “you know with a smell.” The response was an angry “I know what scented means!” Luckily another shopper came by saving us from making another faux pas and from buying candles we weren’t interested in.

We quickly moved on and examined each and every one of the 25 stalls. Most were crafts that although were nice to look at were not actually something we would purchase. There was homemade soap, wooden carvings, beaded jewelry, knitwear, and more. A stage with a nativity scene was set up and a tall skinny Sinterklaas was being ogled by small children. Smells of warm fried food and spiced wine filled the cold air. People balanced giant worsts (German sausages) on tiny pieces of bread. Then we were done. We had only been there for 15 minutes. Maybe Gearoid and I look at things too quickly but mostly it was just a small Christmas market.

We looped ourselves around again (avoiding the vendor we inadvertently insulted) and treated ourselves to some gluhwein (spiced mulled wine) while standing under a portable heater. We picked a good time for libations because a schlager *singer took the stage and sang to us while some children and Sinterklaas pantomimed something behind him. After our wine we each got a cone of fresh cinnamon roasted nuts and headed to the city center to explore Kleve. It only took 25 minutes to visit the Christmas market but the next bus to Nijmegen wasn’t for another 2 hours.

Window display in Kleve

Kleve's church tower

This is a statue of a woman and children trying to prevent her husband from being taken by a swan. He was the Swan Knight.

Downtown Kleve

The next weekend, a colleague of Gearoid’s invited me to another Christmas market in Kleve. I debated going until I found out it was in a castle! About a 10 minute ride outside of the Kleve city center is what is known as Swan Castle. We took the same bus as the week before from Nijmegen to Kleve and then met a German friend. She gave us a more knowledgeable tour of Kleve than the self-tour Gearoid and I had done the week before. Our tour of Kleve was a little longer than expected and we had to run to the coach that was taking people from the city center to the castle.

The Christmas market at the castle was a much better cultural experience than the one that took place in a park in Kleve. There were over 90 stalls and a much better food selection.  There was also what felt like thousands of people. You could hardly move without bumping into someone and it was near impossible to get close to some of the stalls to see what wares were being sold. The actual market took place in a big ring around the castle. Our plan was to do the ring, visit the castle, and then sample some of the amazing food. When we first walked into the market we were treated to the smell of fresh crepes being made and saw these giant German dumpling-like things smothered in white sauce. It was very difficult to hold out but we didn’t want to fill up and see something more delicious along the way.

Those lights are the vendors' stalls in the gardens surrounding the castle.

When we actually got close enough to the stalls we were able to admire the beautiful crafts, paper goods, artwork, knitwear, and more. We were also able to be shocked by the prices. After admiring a purse and then seeing the price tag of over 100 Euros I was reminded that I would just be a spectator at this event. I did end up purchasing a bag of dried apples. The vendor had a good marketing strategy of selling them in clear bags. For over an hour before we even got to his stall, I saw all of these people with bags of red and yellow crispy dried apples. I wanted some by the time I got to his stall. We meandered, nibbled on a couple of treats, and waited patiently while we made our own separate purchases. By the time we got to the castle I noticed that it was closing and we wouldn’t be able to go inside.

There is a tiny orchard-like part in the garden and the tiny trees were festooned with lights.

I love the silhouette of the statue in front of the castle

These lights were surrounded by fire pits that served as heaters while you drank gluhwein. Unfortunately, you had to tiptoe through mud to get to the warmth.

These were heaters as well surrounded by an artist's very interesting garden art.

The late hour shocked my friend. She informed me that we had to be back in Kleve by 7:08 to get the bus home. The next bus after that wasn’t until after 9PM meaning we wouldn’t get home until after 10. Our German friend informed us that the next coach from the castle left for Kleve at 6:05. The one after that didn’t leave until 6:45. It was 6PM. So we ran. We slipped in mud and went through blocked off gates. At one point we crouched and hid behind a police vehicle so we wouldn’t be caught by the adjacent police for being somewhere we weren’t allowed to be in the first place. We missed the 6:05. We got on the 6:45 bus and anxiously thrummed our fingers on the seat fronts while a mother let her toddler wobble slowly by himself up the bus steps and at scheduled bus stops that took ages while elderly people made their way carefully off the bus. We considered the alternative if we missed the earlier bus- hitchhiking. My friend and I looked nervously at each other and I remembered horror films in which hitchhikers were always brutalized by the kind drivers who picked them up. Most of these movies took place in Germany. My friend said she doubted our fighting off abilities and I told her that after seeing how we ran today that I doubted our running away abilities. We gritted our teeth and silently urged the driver to drive faster.

Lucky for bad habits- the bus driver of the early bus was smoking a cigarette when the coach pulled into the station. We breathed a sigh of relief, said goodbye to our German friend, and bee lined to the bus. We took another deep breath and I remembered that I didn’t get to try the giant German dumpling thing. I was too relieved to care though and no dumpling is worth the imaginary horrors I envisioned while potentially hitchhiking.

*Schlager is honestly one of Gearoid’s favorite things about living here. There is a special TV channel dedicated to German schlager and most nights before going to bed, Gearoid watches it for a chuckle.  Maybe it’s all the men with mullets and colorful sweaters staring longingly at the mountains in the distance while singing in German that cracks him up. Whatever it is I find his amusement and constant interruptions to turn it to the Schlager channel amusing myself (and borderline annoying).

Oh, Christmas Tree

This was seriously one of my favorite Christmas songs before I was old enough to know that better songs existed. It still has a special place in my bank of holiday memories though. Included with this song in my memory bank is the presence of an actual Christmas tree. On December 6^th, after all of the Sinterklaas business, Christmas trees go on sale in the Netherlands. We purchased our own this past weekend.

Several logistical factors had to be taken into account before we made our purchase. One factor was our lack of a car. In the States, we would take a trip to the countryside to cut down our own or visit a local stand to buy a tree. Either choice required a car. Gearoid quickly decided (and I begrudgingly agreed) that we were not skilled enough on the bikes to transport a tree.  Although I have (coincidentally) befriended many people who own cars, I felt uncomfortable asking for help with this task. We also considered signing up for green wheels program in which we could rent a car by the hour but decided that would add undue costs to our tree purchase. So we decided that the tree had to come from someplace where Gearoid (and not me- more on that later) could easily carry it home.

We had two options- the local grocery store or the garden/flower shack that was two blocks from our house. The grocery story had cheap 15 euro trees but they were at least a foot shorter than me. I understand that part of living in a small country is conserving household space with smaller furniture, ingenious shelving, and apparently table top Christmas trees. I, however, wanted a big tree like I would have had in the States. A tree that was at least as tall as me if not taller. Our second option was the flower shack which had a very limited option of Christmas trees. However, after Gearoid convinced me again that we were not skilled enough on the bikes to transport a tree we made our way two blocks down the way and perused the freshly unloaded Danish Christmas trees at the flower shack.

Unlike our other Christmas tree purchases in which we would find a tree but then walk around for another 45 minutes to make sure we found the perfect tree, we chose the first tree we saw. It was taller than me, had the kind of needles that were soft enough not to stab your fingertips, and was sufficiently full. Plus, there was only one other option. I really wish I had my camera with me on the walk home. It was quite hilarious to turn around and see just the top of Gearoid’s head and a grasping hand.

We made it home and did the usual battle with the tree stand, vacuumed copious amounts of needles, and rearranged furniture. When the tree made it into the actual house and was sitting prettily in the corner, we realized why Dutch people buy smaller trees. It’s because their living space is smaller. We now had a beautiful tree that took up approximately 25% of the living room space. We had to remove a table and push the couch and armchairs asymmetrically into corners to accommodate the green pine branches stretching across the living room. The other issue is we had to turn off the heat source in the living room because the only place we could put the tree (for spatial and electrical reasons) was flush against the radiator.

The next step in our Christmas tree adventure was to get lights. All of the lights we brought with us in our giant Tupperware of decorations were American lights and wouldn’t fit the European sockets.  We made the journey via bus to the local shopping center and fought the crowds to get two boxes with a total of 280 lights. We thought we would have extra to string around the living room but upon adorning the tree with the lights, we discovered that we thought wrong. Our 280 lights were stretched to the max and barely covered the entire tree. They were also a little dull and couldn’t at all be described as twinkling. We thought that our ornaments and garland would brighten up the tree but sadly, we thought wrong again.  After much discussion and debate with Mr. OCD- I mean, Gearoid- we agreed to string some American lights over the decorations and garland (his argument was that the lights had to go on first and I was unwilling to undecorate in order to redecorate)and use one of our transformers to make the lights work.

The end result is a somewhat twinkling tree which although not as bright as we’re used to is still comforting with our familiar ornaments. I try to be positive and instead of thinking of my living room as cramped and cold with a dimly lit tree, think of it rather as cozy and gezellig with a real and delicious smelling tree.

Oh, and there was the burning itchy red rash. I am sadly allergic to Christmas (pine) trees. One year, many years ago, the Christmas tree fell on me and the result was a skin reaction. Since then, I’ve been careful with real trees by handling them sparingly and washing up quickly after touching them. I decided to test the theory to see if I actually was allergic and wasn’t so careful when handling the tree this year. A few hours later while I was relaxing after a day of decorating adventures the burning began. I shared my itchy experience with my grandma who shared her own story with me. Apparently when I was really little she had to take me to the doctor after a weird rash appeared on the side of my face. The doctor asked what I had been doing and apparently my answer was hugging trees. So I’m allergic and the advice by many is to get an artificial tree. The truth though is that the risk of rash is worth the incredible coziness of real tree.

This picture doesn't do it justice. Sandwiching the tree into the corner are the couch and a couple of armchairs.

Stockings hung with care over the turned off heating unit.

Sint and Piet

The night of December 5^th was Sinterklaas night. Dutch people all around the country got together so children could open their presents from “Sinterklaas” and adults could share with each other well-thought out gifts. I say “well-thought out” because the Dutch put a lot of work into the homemade packaging and the tongue-in-cheek poems that accompany the gifts. An example of the packaging might be a person who likes desserts receiving a gift that is in a box that looks like a cak.  Gearoid and I weren’t actively avoiding this night or the tradition that surrounds Sinterklaas (also referred to as Sint)- I mean we went to see his arrival almost a month ago- but we didn’t make plans to celebrate this Dutch holiday. Just as Thanksgiving was an ordinary Thursday to Dutch people, Sinterklaas avond (night) was an ordinary Monday night to us.

Except, the Dutch people in our lives didn’t want it to be an ordinary night and we ended up inadvertently part of the celebration. Since Sinterklaas arrived weeks ago, we’ve noticed the decorations, the abundance of Zwarte Piet (Sint’s helpers) children’s television shows, and the delicious variety of speculaas sold at the grocery store. However, the immediate days before Sinterklaas avond became filled with events, news stories on how busy stores were, and an abundance of kruidenoten (ginger cookies). We couldn’t help being sucked into active participation of this holiday.

Last Wednesday, I attended a children’s event with a friend who wanted some assistance with her 3 children. I was told Sinterklaas would be there. I assumed it would be like when you visit Santa in the mall and you sit on his lap and express what you want for Christmas and then head off on your merry way. I was completely wrong. We went to the local garden center (the same one that hosted Ladies’ night) and were herded by some Zwarte Piets into a barn/chapel that was constructed especially for the event. (Although I’m still not an advocate of black face I am also not actively voicing my opposition to it. I do have to say though,  that up close the shocking blue eyes in black face and under synthetic jheri-curls were pretty startling.) After being herded in, the doors were closed and friendlily (?) blocked by the garden center employees. The lights went off and then back on in an assortment of colors while the Zwarte Piets danced to hip-hop themed Sinterklaas music. I was now surrounded by the various cries of fear and excitement of children as the Zwarte Piets entertained us Soul Train style. After that performance, we were treated to a puppet show (which I’m happy to say I understood most of) while the Zwarte Piets threw tiny cookies at the children. After an eternity (really it was only 45 minutes) and much anticipation, Sinterklaas made an appearance of 5 minutes. We were then herded out of the barn and funneled through the entire store (which lacked the magical enchantment it held during Ladies’ night. Possibly, because it was daylight and I wasn’t drinking mulled wine although I desperately needed it after what I had just been through) towards the far off exits. I was only with my friend, her children, and 100 more children for about 3 hours but vowed to live a childless life afterwards on the phone to a gleeful Gearoid (unfortunately for him this only lasted the afternoon as the next day I got excited about a friend’s daughter’s pregnancy).

Where all the Sinterklaas "fun" took place on that bright and sunny Wednesday afternoon

Zwarte Piets

Sinterklaas himself

The next day, Gearoid was subjected to his own torture. His football practice was held early so there could be a Sinterklaas presentation at the football club afterwards. Apparently the presentation of an hour and half (to Gearoid it felt like 6 hours), included dancing Zwarte Piets who shushed any conversation not involving Sinterklaas and many long speechs by Sinterklaas to several of the best players. Unfortunately, Gearoid sat too far from the exit and was prevented from sneaking out. He came home after eleven PM exhausted and bored. His torture continued as his Dutch instructor assigned homework that involved writing a rhyming poem in Dutch about a classmate. Gearoid was given information about a Polish researcher who in his spare time enjoyed reading, hiking, climbing, and collecting knives (?!). We spent a good chunk of Sunday trying to find Dutch rhyming words and crafting them into a coherent poem that included Sinterklaas and this Polish guy’s hobbies. We were proud of our efforts but apparently they weren’t understood and the chocolate P Gearoid gave as a gift (P for Poland!) was not fully appreciated.

On the day of Sinterklaas avond, my landlady invited me over for tea and a cultural explanation. She filled in some of the gaps that existed between what other people had told me about this cultural event. My landlady gave me a more thorough explanation about how the poems that accompany the gift are usually nice but with a little bit of truth/meanness in them. My landlord gave the example of how he might write me a poem about how Sint and Piet may suggest that I should clean my windows. A gift of a squeegee and window cleaner might accompany the poem. (I took this as an obvious hint that I should clean my windows in the near future). My landlady then asked if I had seen Sint on the roof yet. I told her no and he probably wouldn’t come (I was casually referring to how we’re not celebrating this Dutch event and instead would celebrate the actual Christmas) and was informed by her that today would be last night to see him because the next day Sinterklaas was returning to Spain. Oh, well. Maybe next year.

But “he” did come and he scared the hell out of me. I knew my landlady was hosting a Sinterklaas avond for some friends of hers (I got the lowdown during tea) and I heard the festivities happening down below. I was minding my own business, doing some Dutch on the computer when I heard something being thrown and a loud knock on my door. I screamed, jumped, and despite the viewings of many scary movies went outside to investigate what had scared me. On my front stoop were several wrapped packages, gold chocolate coins, and a sprinkling of pepernoten (the same spiced cookies the Zwarte Piets throw at children).

Our Sinterklaas avond loot- several poems (I even tried to write one), many chocolate letters, kruidenoten, a magnetic football man (from Gearoid's fellow student), and some adorable owl ornaments. For not celebrating, we did pretty well. 

When Gearoid came home, I showed him the evidence of Sinterklaas and he shared with me how Sinterklaas (i.e. his fellow student) had treated him well too. Despite, our lack of effort we were treated very nicely on Sinterklaas avond by Sint and Piet (a.k.a. generous and friendly Dutch people).

A poem from Sint and Piet (a.k.a. our landlords) translated by Natasha and Google Translate. It is better (and it rhymes) in Dutch but still amusing in either language.

Sint and Pete ride on the roof of the Groenestraat.
And Sint sits majestically on his horse
Peter peeks through the bedroom window and sees
Gearoid sleep again while Natasha grieves
In the room he sees her again alone with the TV
And that brings him the next idea
A piece of integration in beautiful paper
Cultural Experiences are also fun
Harvest Fruit Parade in Tiel, or ladies night in Malden
All are distractions that please Natasha 
So today a traditional experience
Knocking on the door and packages on the sidewalk
And a sermon that's how Sint does.
Sint points an admonishing finger at you
Gearoid, think more of your dear woman
 A beautiful young athletic guy
and Sint has heard you're also very intelligent!
Must understand that such a young woman would like more
Than to look at your sleeping back and buttocks
Go play a game at night and decorate your home
Put together the tree and sit together in front of the tube
Lots of time together- Sint thinks is a good idea,
And so he brought for you a letter Gearoid
Then next year he wants to see a difference
Then you will get a "man" score of a 10!

Thanksgiving

*When the term “home” is used in this entry it refers to America and not the house I currently reside in.

I have to admit, I was kind of sad being in the Netherlands on Thanksgiving. While everyone I know and love in the States was travelling or cozy with their families, it was just a Thursday here. I asked Gearoid to play hooky and stay home with me to watch Christmas movies but being Irish and a responsible workaholic I was denied. I stayed in my pajamas longer than usual just as I would have if I was at home. If I was at home I would be at my mom’s house having slept in the spare room on the super squeaky bed. I would have run the Turkey Trot with her, my aunt, and my brother. I would have made pies- in an oven that works. I would have called my grandparents and thought about my other set of parents who were on their almost annual Thanksgiving cruise. I would have watched snippets of the parade, read while football was watched by others, and tried to avoid totally addictive reality tv marathons. I would have eaten too much, felt like I was going to die because I was so full, and then got a piece of pie with extra Cool Whip despite my lack of stomach space. I would have fallen asleep feeling disgusted but comforted by the fact that tomorrow would be another day off and I would be with my family.  I would have had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

It’s funny that I was so nostalgic for a holiday that revolves around a giant cooked bird. As a vegetarian, I don’t eat the traditional Turkey Day turkey. I do enjoy pie though. And of course, being with my family. Despite all of my travels, it was only my second Thanksgiving out of the country. The first time I missed Thankgiving, I was in Sierra Leone. I remember being sad then too and pretended to be sick so I didn’t have to work that day. I spent the day moping before I made a massive pot of mashed potatoes on our coal pot. We ended up having a lovely meal hosted by some American nuns who managed to make a real pumpkin pie. I felt much better (and disgustingly full) after having the traditional glutinous meal.

Being Thanksgiving, I really wanted to be in America. I wanted to say Happy Thanksgiving to people. I decided sitting at home and moping made me too sad though (this was also confirmed my mom who I cried like a baby to on Skype) so I decided to ride my bike and mope in Dutch class. I only felt slightly better.

Despite my moping all day, I did get some Thanksgiving. We had made arrangements with an American colleague of Gearoid’s to have Thanksgiving at her house. It was wonderful. I got to say Happy Thanksgiving and had a wonderful meal with great people.  Those of us who had experienced true American Thanksgivings gave insight to the others of what happens, what’s expected, and how full you should be at the end of the meal. My job was to provide dessert and I was happily successful. You’ve all read about my baking mishaps here in the Netherlands but with patience, love, and extensive research and forethought I was able to make an apple crisp and (drum roll please) pumpkin pie cupcakes (which only required the following: hunting for fresh pumpkins, peeling/boiling/mashing/pureeing fresh pumpkin, making test run cupcakes, etc.) * With a dollop of whipped cream, the pumpkin pie cupcakes tasted delicious (and the extras made a perfect breakfast treat the next morning). We left full, happy, and regretful about how full we were. It was a wonderful Thanksgiving substitute.

The turkey breast came after I took the picture. 

The food wasn't all American. We also had some delicious German red cabbage and chestnut dressing.

Scrumptious success!

Despite baking for over 2 hours and having the burnt bit scraped off, the apples were not completely tender. The delicious flavor made up for it though.

Don't be fooled by the tiny plate. I had seconds of dessert.

*I have discovered that I can successfully make cupcakes in my convection-micro-oven combination if I place the cupcakes just right, add 4 minutes to the baking time, and silently pray.

Ladies' Night

Last Wednesday had a promising start. The only appointment I had was with my language buddy, I had already done Thursday’s Dutch homework, and it was a clear and beautiful day. I planned to use my free day (despite being unemployed I usually keep busy during the week) to catch up on things that I had been too busy or too lazy to do such as finishing my book club book, planting tulip bulbs, writing a blog entry, and baking cupcakes. Someone had lent us a tiny portable oven that I was going to practice with to see if I could make a decent Thanksgiving dessert. All went well except for the cupcakes. Long story short the oven short circuited not only my apartment but four other apartments as well. So on a brisk fall day with the sun setting shortly after 5PM, we were without electricity and all that requires it (i.e. internet, heat, lights, etc) for two hours. When the lights came on, being determined as I am (or stubborn as Gearoid insists) I tried the oven again and 3 minutes later, I blacked out our apartments yet again. Finally, realizing this oven and my kitchen outlets were not compatible I decided to try the cupcakes in my disappointing convection-micro-oven combination. Unfortunately, it decided to almost catch on fire and smoke filled my kitchen. I had a mini breakdown, put the uncooked cake batter in my fridge and settled on my couch to pout. Minutes later, my landlord came up to request I try not to make anymore blackout inducing cupcakes because their house was cold enough after having had no heat for two hours. While he was in my kitchen, I also had to explain about the smell of smoke and its cause. He kindly asked me to sit on my couch for the rest of the night and not cause any more trouble.

Approximately 30 minutes later, my landlady called and invited me to a Ladies’ Night because her husband said I seemed a little depressed. I jumped at the chance to leave my cursed kitchen and in their words they “saved Gearoid from me.” It was true. He would have had to endure my frustrations and tears. He was a little baffled when he pulled up on his bike and I was leaving (after taking a 20 from his wallet) with no answers to his questions on when, where, and why. In the long run, me leaving the house for the night was good for my sanity and Gearoid’s overall well-being. He was able to enjoy a guilt free night of sci-fi television, whiskey, and surreptitious finger swipes of chocolate cake batter without me sobbing that I hate this place because nothing (i.e. the oven) works here. (Me- Don’t eat the cake batter. Him- Are you sure? Later that night: Me- Did you eat any cake batter? Him- Only where my finger accidently fell in.)

I eagerly got into the car with my landlady and her daughter whom I regularly visit for English/Dutch conversations. We headed to Ladies’ Night. In the States Ladies’ Night usually implies free entrance to a night club with discount drinks. In the Netherlands, these events take place at an assortment of locations that provide ladies with some type of discount. The ladies’ night we attended took place at a giant garden center. You know- where you can buy gardening supplies. We drove into the very crowded parking lot and then walked to the end of a very long line that ended almost outside of the parking lot. I was amazed by the crowds and the excitement. It was contagious. I was really excited for this virgin experience. I asked what the night would entail and why were there so many people here. The answer was a joke about the extent Dutch people will go to get free stuff. What kind of free stuff? All kinds of free stuff and discounts as well. So, I had voluntarily gone to an event where I was freezing in a parking lot waiting for a goody bag of random stuff. Well, it was this or sulk about my unbaked cake batter.

While travelling to the end of the line, I saw a sign that said Jan Smit would be there. I had the audacity to ask in a crowd of Dutch ladies who Jan Smit was. “What?! You don’t know who Jan Smit is? What’s wrong with you? How long have you been here? You must know who Jan Smit is,” were some of the responses I received.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jan_Smit_(singer). While I was being lectured about my lack of knowledge of Dutch pop culture and the romances of Jan Smit, we were being entertained by fire breathers, fire jugglers, and bag pipe players. Eventually we made our way to the red carpet (yes, an actual red carpet) welcoming us into the garden center. We were given very cute reusable shopping bags to collect all of our freebies in and then given a lei by a very charming drag queen. After a picture with a Jan Smit lookalike (apparently the real Jan Smit was on his honeymoon) we were gently herded along a route through the garden center.

Unfortunately, my lack of knowledge of how to use the flash on my camera phone and bad timing prohibited quality pictures of the outside entertainment and the insane crowd of women. 

It was quite magical and enchanting. I’m not being sarcastic when I say that. Honestly. The garden center had become Christmas Central. We were treated to candy and warm mulled wine while we looked at dozens of Christmas decoration displays. We took a picture in front of a chalet display with a  very handsome man in lieder hose (on the right man, it’s actually quite attractive). We had more mulled wine. A choir singing English Christmas carols entertained us while we looked at light displays, ornaments, and avoided the mad group of women fighting over some half priced winter boots. My favorite display included a giant carousel that was decorated with those tiny villages that people recreate in their houses for the holidays.  We had more mulled wine-ok, only I had more. It’s quite tasty and I quickly learned that it only take 3 tiny glasses to be effective.

During a tea/coffee break (if you’re ever in the Netherlands, you haven’t had a true Dutch experience unless a tea/coffee break is included), we were given strawberry basil ice cream. Over 3 hours later after having walked the red carpet, we were in the checkout line being entertained by a DJ while we waited to pay for our purchases and collect our goody bags. We were all exhausted and overwhelmed by the experience and drove home quietly. Upon arriving home, I thanked my landlady for inviting me and treating me to a true cultural experience. The Dutch really love free and discounted stuff and I quite enjoyed the Ladies’ Night!

My free loot!

I quite enjoyed the singular Riccola cough drop, dog food sample, and one panty liner. Just kidding we all know I guzzled the wine, devoured the cookies, and inhaled the chips. The rest of it is still sitting in the goody bag in my spare room.

*After a careful cleaning, my combo-micro-oven was able to produce adequate cupcakes with the cursed chocolate batter.