Minor challenges

I know there are many things you might expect to read about in this blog that I have not yet addressed: Van Gogh, Anne Frank, extraordinarily tall people, tulips, cheese, "coffeeshops" (sorry, if we do sample that side of Amsterdam, you won't read about it here), the beauty of this amazing city, the "Muslim problem", legal prostitution, my attempts to learn Dutch. I do hope to get to many of these topics. But as far as I can tell, the best way to blog -- or at least, for me, the only sustainable way -- is to write about what happens to be on my mind on a given day. And today it's all about struggle.

Don't get me wrong: every time I think about complaining--about ANYTHING--I remember how incredibly lucky I am to be here, and do my best to let it go. Every day here is a gift.

That said, it is not always easy learning to manage family life in a foreign city. For starters, not knowing the language means everything takes twice as long. Again, one can't complain; the Dutch are almost always able and happy -- proud, even -- to speak English with you.

So language is only an issue when it comes to the written word. Such as on the tram, when you are staring at the button on by the door, wondering if the caption beside it says "Press this or the driver will not stop when you want to get off," or "Press this only in an emergency or face prosecution and stiff fines." Or at the supermarket, where I've given up on hauling out my dictionary to read the ingredients and now simply trust my instincts.

But I am still wondering what was in those strange-tasting hamburger patties I bought last week.

It took me a week to learn how to use the clothes washer. I couldn't turn it on, even after taking my laptop into the bathroom so I could type all those instructions into "Google Translate" while perched on the (closed) toilet in front of the darn thing. The handyman had to explain it to me. And I still don't understand the dryer -- everything seems to get about 80% dry and then tumble around intermittently for the next 3 or 4 hours with no further drying. I take it all out and hang it over the stair rail.

Don't even get me started on the phone. Every time I call my voice mail, a pleasant female voice tells me to "toots zeven" for something something and "toots negen" for something else, along with 7 or eight other options, and I give up in frustration. I think I'll just let all the messages pile up until I throw away the phone when we go home. I don't get that many calls, anyway.

Internet banking is a fascinating experience. They give you a little device called an e.dentifier that looks like a calculator. You have to log into the website, then put your bank card into the e.dentifier, which talks to your computer -- the device gives you a code that you type into the computer, which then gives you a code that you have to type into the device. Marvelous, ingenious . . . but WAY more complicated than it needs to be.

I've always had a romantic vision of food-gathering in Europe: the daily visit to the bakery and the butcher and the grocer, the little string bag for your purchases. But this notion was not based on the reality of feeding a voracious family of four. In actuality, while there is indeed a bakery and a cheese store and a nut store (really! a nut store!), I mostly go to the supermarket up the block, because that's the easiest way to find the many things I need like lunchbox supplies and toilet paper. And I have to go there just about every day. The Dutch may be big (very big) but their food comes in very small packages. So we run out quickly.

I ought to be thankful for the compact sizes, as I am a cheapskate who always goes for the bargain size when it's available and would surely injure myself trying to sling it over my shoulder to carry it home. Even without 120-oz laundry soap jugs, I am a lousy judge of what I can comfortably carry and often find myself struggling up the block like an overworked burro. The payoff will come with the warmer weather, when I can show off my newly-defined biceps and deltoids.

As for getting around, I love that I can walk, bike or take the tram everywhere, but the car-free urban lifestyle gets exhausting: I have to plan out each day like a military campaign. Without a car to throw everything into, I need to carry everything I will need for the day: laptop, lunch, maps, snacks, soccer gear (for Zander, not me!), etc. There's also an edge of anxiety that comes with not yet knowing the transit system well enough yet to improvise: if I have errands to do, I search up all my addresses and tram routes on the Internet the night before and carry them around on Post-it notes.

And it's COLD here. Very, very cold and slippery. I went down on an icy patch yesterday, bike and all. My first concern was for the just-repaired laptop I was carrying on my back (fine); my second worry was for my new (used) bike (also fine). Myself, a little bruised. But also fine. Fine, fine, fine.

Really, fine. After all, I'm in Amsterdam!