Month: September 2012

Ejo #34- TEEC: Day 11 (Getting Some Culture In Amsterdam)

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Remember when the Dutch were a major economic and political power, colonising land all over the place?? No?? Well, maybe because it happened around 400 years ago. And you weren’t born yet. But the country certainly did go through a golden ago of world domination. And as a happy consequence of that, there was a lot of art being produced at the time. Art that is now housed in the Rijksmuseum, right here in Amsterdam. Art that we went to look, and marvel, at today in an uncharacteristic burst of cultural curiosity. Here are some of my favourites*.

Cultured art appreciators of all shapes and sizes

A really amazing and beautiful study in moonlit landscapes. Masterfully painted.

Yep, they even had a Warhol. This one of The Netherlands’ Queen Beatrix, one of only four reigning monarchs “done” by Warhol.

A very distinctive Dutch style of portrait. It was my favourite of this style – even more so than the hugely popular Vermeers. I just love the way the light plays and reflects off the young girl’s face.

* The Night Watch by Rembrandt was certainly impressive but still doesn’t count as a “favourite” so doesn’t merit a photo on this post. Also, I accidentally deleted a photo of a fully functioning violin made of porcelain, and prettily painted in the Delft style. It was really good.

Ejo #34 – TEEC: Day 10 (Getting My Hair Cut In Amsterdam)

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I have difficult hair. Hairdressers the world over have attempted (mostly in vain) to tame my awkwardly kinky tresses. I feel like I’ve had a bad hair day for most of the last five years. Now, I know that in the ultimate scheme of things what your hair looks like shouldn’t really be that important. I know that. But for me, it is. It’s somehow all wrapped up with how I feel about myself and, as you can imagine, a five year bad hair day can create some pretty deep existential turmoil.

In the four years we’ve lived in Dubai I’ve had five hair cuts. Not a great track record. And the time between each hatchet job has been progressively longer as it takes me longer to recover from each one (aesthetically and emotionally). The last time I got my hair cut in Dubai was in November 2011, after which I vowed to NEVER get my hair cut in that city again. Never ever. I am still growing out the stupidly preposterous layers that (the appropriately named) Shadi cut from my crowning glory last year. And it’ll be another year, I’m guessing, before all evidence of it is gone. Before my head stops looking like a toadstool (yes, it’s been that bad – I very simply never leave the house without styling it into some semblance of human hair).

So you can imagine my trepidation when (after a LOT of research) I booked an appointment at Lysandro Cicilia hair salon. And I normally wouldn’t take the risk but my last trim was six months ago and it’s been looking a bit scraggly. Plus all the lovely girls here have gorgeous hair so I figured it was worth a try. Raúl was fab fab fab! He made me feel like he really knew what I was talking about and then stuck to the plan. And while I’m reserving full judgement for tomorrow morning (after I’ve washed and dried it myself), I can honestly say it’s the first time in many, many years I’ve walked out of a salon actually happy (or at the very least not bursting into tears)!

BEFORE

AFTER

Ejo #34 – TEEC: Day 9 (The Weather In Amsterdam)

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I would like to posit that human nature doesn’t allow us to remain happy with anything for too long. We may still appreciate it and even still enjoy it from time to time but we can never recapture the thrill and excitement of our first experience of it. Imagine a land of fluffy unicorns jumping over colorful rainbows. I have a feeling that the initial glee of that situation would wear off pretty quickly. Even a life where money literally fell from trees would, after a while (sure, I agree it would be a long while), become kind of tedious. And even a city where the sun shines 360 days of the year can kind of get on your nerves after four years of it.

So, my point (yes, I do have one) is that I am at a stage of my life where I love (and long for) the rain. But sure, I see how that can make me sound ungrateful. Who the hell turns up their nose at constant sunshine??

But, let me point out that Dubai’s sun, whilst constant and abundant, is hardly the sun of fairytales and poetry. It’s a burning, mean, wickedly hot sun and it travels through high humidity, smog, dust and airborne sand to get to you. It is not the sunshine which dapples through trees, nor the sun you can taste in a late harvest semillion. It is not the sun that caresses your skin, dousing you in Vitamin D and keeping depression at bay. Nor is it the sun which makes you want to frolic barefoot and do cartwheels in the grass. It’s the kind of sun which sends us scurrying indoors, to avoid it as if we were vampires. REALLY!!!

So, today I woke up happy. I woke up to the gentle patter of raindrops on my forehead (we’d left the window open for some fresh air – another valuable commodity that I cherish on trips abroad). And then later, just for good measure, we got some of that nice dappling sunshine too. Totally spoilt!!!

Gorgeous, soul-affirming rain outside our window.