Rearranging the Furniture

On my blog as I do in my home, classroom or other spaces in my life, I need to change things up a bit and rearrange. Sui generis probably sums up a lot of things in this world, but it seems to fit the impression of myself and my designs on the future.

Arthur's Seat

We had a wonderful Saturday. At about 1:30pm, all of the students, the faculty and their families made our way on the busses to Edinburgh to walk up Arthur’s Seat. We disembarked at Hunter Square, near the Tron, and headed down High Street like a mother duck and her ducklings—44 us in all. Once we reached the base, near the Holyrood Palace, we began the 60 minute walk to the peak. It was a warm but blustery day. The steepness surprised a few, but everyone made it to the crags, which is a little under the half way point. Some decided to make there way down, at this point, seeing how much further the peak was. About 30 of us, however, braved the winds and climbed and hiked our way to the top. The view of course was magnificent. However, it was the fierce wind that made the accomplishment so exhilarating. We could hardly stand at the peak of the inactive volcano! It was a mighty struggle—one that laid the foundations of great memories. Our trek back down, on the north side, provided a gentler time than the ascent. We passed the abbey ruins and said hello to some swans sunning themselves before we made it back to our staring point.

Tim and I headed back to Dalkeith only to clean up, change and head back into Edinburgh to meet Henry and Ann at the Opal Lounge on George Street. They invited us out to join them for dinner. We ran into Richard and some of the faculty, Carmen, Bart and Dan. We shared some inappropriate humour (mostly because that is Richard, and Dan is Native American) and a drink, and then we parted, as we were off to dinner. The Mexican food was great—just the right amount of spice; it was enough to make up for the poor service anyway. Before Henry drove us back to Dalkeith, we stopped at the Dome, an old bank and a marvellously decorated old building, for a drink. It was a little posh, which is why you go there. We ended our night at Sams, where, all but a few of the students were doing there best at singing karaoke and getting to know the locals. And program begins.

Surrogate Mothers

The New York Times had good piece on gay couples and surrogate mothers this week. (NY Times Article) It discussed how more and more surrogates are helping out gay couples, and for a variety of reasons, many prefer gay couples to straight ones; that sentiment is primarily based on the residue of emotional trauma usually suffered by an infertile couple, wearing off on the surrogate.

Hopefully it is a sign that there is wider support for gays/lesbians than the homophobic majorities of the 18 states who voted to ban gay marriage. I read this story on the heels of reading another article from CNN. “Representatives of the nation's top psychiatric group approved a statement…urging legal recognition of gay marriage”, following the American Psychological Association’s move to do the same last year.

In looking back over my blog, I have noticed a large number of negative stories and my remarks. I look forward to more positive stories, like these two, to reflect on.

To a Friend

Randy's a great friend whom I love dearly.

I miss being able to steal a beer on a Thursday night, no matter how late it is.

He humours me over IM when I need to chat (read: whine/bitch/laugh)

I can't wait to live in the same state again.

I know that I'll be able to hang out with him and the rest of freaks soon enough.

Thanks for always being there.

When Scottish Dolphins Attack

The craziest show is on right now discussing Dolphins off the coast of Scotland killing porpoises! It's tragic? I wonder if it is in the Book of Revelations. I better go the pub and drink, it could be my last night. And it's quiz night with a whole new summer faculty.

For History on Bottlenose Dolphins

Letter to my Students

The first graduation of Rogers High School is taking place this week. The seniors are having a breakfast today, and I'm a little sad I cannot be there. I've written a letter to be read to them in my absence today.

Congratulations Graduates!

I wish I could be here in person to congratulate you, give hugs and tell you personally how proud I am of each one of you. But, alas, I am living in Scotland and unable to make the journey home. I did request to share a few thoughts with you by letter, to help celebrate and honour your magnificent accomplishment.

For most, if not all of you, Today is one of the most important days of your lives. Earning a diploma is a rite of passage; a passport to your dreams. As someone who “stamped” your passport, figuratively speaking, I would like to humbly stamp it one more time today with a few words of advice.

Today is one of the most important days of your lives. But, what’s more, and what I would like you to remember, is that Today is thee most important day of your life. Today potentially starts, continues and/or ends everything we do in life. It is a powerful concept to grasp, but it is worth the effort to understand it. Life is what you make it, one day at a time. I encourage you to use your ‘todays’ to shape your life by considering three simple ideas: Make life fun. Make life meaningful. Make life yours.

The older I get, the more I realize that, in my childhood and adolescence and threw my twenties, I worried too much about things I shouldn’t. I was overly concerned about things I couldn’t control, with material things or with my self-image; it left me blind to much of life; it devalued my ability to shape my future and the things I could control; it prohibited the actualization of my gifts becoming talents, of strangers becoming friends and my curiosity becoming knowledge.

Growing up, it was always my opinion, that—

• I had to grow up with less stuff than other kids.
• I had a family that wasn’t as “normal” as other families.
• I had to endure more teasing from class mates than others did.
• I had to struggle to figure out who was I more than other people.
• I had to work harder than others to get what I wanted.
• Therefore, I was apt to have less fun, less of a chance of making a difference, and less chance of doing what I wanted to do.
  

Hindsight has shown me that these statements were not true. I tell you this today, hopefully to bring you to that realization sooner that I got there. The lessons I learned whilst trying to figure out that these perceptions were not true—looking outward for answers instead of looking inward, taught me that I make life what it is; life or other people’s views of my life, doesn’t make me.

My childhood and adolescence served as a context for my future. At times it was quite challenging: dealing with loss, fear, emotional grief and physical pain. At times it was rewarding: friendships, nurturing mentors, celebrations and coming of age. What’s vital to keep in mind is that it is all in the past. Take the lessons and the good things from the past and leave the bad. I cried and grew from adverse situations as much as I laughed and learned from favourable ones. Furthermore, I learned how much I needed both to be who I am today.

I see the present as just that, a gift. In order to honour how special that gift is, I need to do something special with that gift, each day. So, I prioritize my days based on what I value—the solitude of a good book, the companionship of talking with a friend, the ambition of working long hours on a teaching career I love dearly, or the recognition I receive when I see the smiling faces of people whose lives I’ve touched. And as I get older, I appreciate the importance of having a balance of each of these.

I look into my future and I realize more everyday that the choices I make today impact the opportunities I will have tomorrow. One day at a time, I make many choices tiny and great that lead me into the future that I want. So, each day, in small ways and great ones, I choose to make it fun, I make it meaningful, and I make it mine.

The author Elbert Hubbard once said, “A school should not be a preparation for life. A school should be life.” School has been your life for almost 15 years. You have learned a great deal about life and tools you will need to get along. Friendships have emerged, providing great joy and, at times, sorrow. Yearbooks have been filled with fun and funny memories. Exams have been taken; you were all surely hardened by the ebb and flow of test-taking angst and relief. This was school. This was your life. The lessons, the knowledge gained in and out of the classroom, have provided you the context of who you are; the substance to continue your journey. You are about to embark on a new path; you will start a new school and continue life as an adult. So please, with all your passions, creativity, wit and energy, take every today and make life fun, make it meaningful and make it what you want it to be, because you can.

Congratulations and all the best,

Mr. Johnson

Capturing the Stories of Week

I sent an email out to some friends about some current events of the week. I thought I would provide a bit of perspective when I look back on my time in the UK and a good entry into the blog as well.


Pub’s Ending ‘Happy Hours’ http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/4571989.stm

Malcolm X – Potential Gay Activist?
http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1486997,00.html

Mom says it the school's fault!! Whatever!!! Stupid should hurt.
Desperate Midwives http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/4572219.stm

Okay, so, we (the gays) have gone from Mentally Ill to Mentally Competent and cared for...there’s some progress we can be happy for!
Psychiatrics on gays
http://edition.cnn.com/2005/HEALTH/05/23/gay.marriage.ap/index.html

First Day of School -- images that, even though I teach older students, made me miss my classroom!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/shared/spl/hi/picture_gallery/05/in_pictures_nikon_picture_editor_awards/html/1.stm

Turning up the thermostat to Hell

The start of the new week during Jamie’s visit was a day of rest; Monday’s are good for little else. We did tour the house, finally, considering Jamie had been here 2 days already. We also toured the Duke’s Country Park on a two-hour walk. After a long weekend, some jet lag and a big meal, we resigned to watching the ‘The Jacket’ with Adrian Brody and called it a night.

We met up on Tuesday at Starbucks for a short bit in the early afternoon. I finally dropped up my financial aid stuff to the University—show me the money! I should hear back in a couple weeks, so hopefully by the 25/26 May I’ll have word on my aid package. Tim joined Jamie and I at the Blue Moon for dinner. Wade and Patty, who were in town from Alnwick for a comedy show. And outside of a few verbal faux pas’s, (let’s see, there is a straight man, 2 queers and a lesbian, and at anyone one time, somebody said SOMEthing that could be deemed inappropriate). After dinner we joined some Scottish friends, Neil and Stuart, at the Street. We hadn’t seen them in a few months, and they opened with a story about their recent trip to Miami Beach. Apparently, after drinking a bottle of gin on the plane ride over, with no sleep, made their way to what appeared to be a low key bar, and had some drinks. Now, these guys thought it would be fun to wear their kilts out, so they ran back to their hotel, changed, and returned to the bar. Upon their return, they discovered it was more than one bar! Turns out, the other half of the bar was quite a hopping gay club—naturally, they fielded a great deal of attention, 2 Scots in kilts at a gay bar-- but after Stuart took too long to return from the toilet (because he met up with a new mutual friend from the evening and was chatting and a bit lost) a ‘row’ ensued. This led to them going back to the hotel. Their room was fairly close to the reception desk, and they received one or two or three calls to be quiet. Well, it was quite early in the morning, and the police were called and knocked on the door to find them, still too loud, still in kilts. The police were apparently quite rude and swore at the two of them. Stuart was very upset by this, but the police didn’t seem to care. To solve the matter, they made Neil get a different room, in a different hotel! Wow. But, it obviously worked itself out and we all had a good laugh about it. It was off to CC’s to meet back up with Wade and Patty, and too many drinks and dance songs to count later, we made our way back to Dalkeith.

Our bike trip to the North Sea took us through the Duke’s Park and passed the village of White Craig into the city of Musselburgh. The trip is an easy one to make. You just have to follow the stone wall of the estate or the River Esk, and you will eventually arrive. It was a warm day, but not warm enough to leave the jumper at home. We took pictures of us with Arthur’s Seat in the background and then sat and read our books for a wee bit.
John and Mary joined us on Thursday for our overnight trip to Alnwick. We took both our wee cars and stopped at Craster along the way for lunch and pint at the Jolly Fisherman. The views and feel of this little village are stunning and always remind me of my first trip to the UK 3 years ago, because it was one of the first places that I had visited. It always provides me a bit of displaced nostalgia when I visit. Tim drove us all to an overlook of the moors and we shared a couple bottles of wine. The haze of the midday was blowing off and providing a crisp view of Northumberland—pastures, sheep, rolling hills and tiny hamlets as far as the eye could see.
We joined up with Wade and Patty for dinner at Benvenido’s. It was a bit sad, because we found out that the restaurant is closing, permanently, and our meal that night would be our last at the quaint establishment. We patronized a hotel—one that has a replica of the dining room of the Titanic’s sister ship, the Olympic--called the White Swan. Or, White Dragon, White Mouse, White Horse, White Rose or even the White Rat—all names Jamie came up with; because for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the name of place we were in! Oh Jamie, he’s so pretty.

We took in the hike and sights of St. Abb’s before returning to Dalkeith the next day. A quiet evening at Sam’s allowed for us to wake up early on Saturday to head out to London for the weekend. With bags on backs and books in hand—Catch 22 for me and Snow for Jamie—we caught the 930am train to London. We arrived at the Kings Cross station and quickly made our way to the tube and eventually the Black Friar terminal. Our hostel was just a block or 2 away. We were fortunate to be staying to so close to the magnificent St. Paul’s Cathedral. However, that also meant we were staying in The City, or financial district, which meant no businesses were open on the weekends—pubs, restaurants or coffee shops!!! Not good. It just meant more walking for us, which was okay too.

We took in many sights just walking along the Thames: Westminster, Piccadily Circus, Big Ben, The Eye of London, Trafalgar Square—what was Trafalgar’s first name? Oh, that’s right, it was a battle. [We’re both pretty!] The bus tour provided us a view of Buckhingham Palace, the London Bridge, the Waterloo Bridge, the walking £40 million Millennium Bridge and lots of history. We did manage to see the show “Stomp” at the Vaudeville Theatre on The Strand. It was amazing! It was a kiosk that we saw a T-Shirt “No one knows I’m a lesbian” that we almost bought for Jamie. It could work—all the gays in the “core group” want Jamie to be gay, and this way he could still like girls ! Anywho, I think it’s a good idea. That T-shirt is still hanging on that rack, at that kiosk on The Long Acre. Our Chinese meal in Chinatown consisted of chicken clubs at the 38 bar—okay, so we were in Chinatown—we were just so hungry (and impatient). We wanted food, and beer. After some Fosters and Kronneberg 1662, it was on the way home and Jamie and I decided that, not only are we “going to hell”, as in, say/do something inappropriate and “yeah, I’m going to hell for that”, god has just started turning up the thermostat, little clicks at a time. Our dinner conversation alone notched up the temperature of hell quite a few degrees. But it was probably the later comments, which were probably spurred by the fact that Jamie was putting AMERICAN pennies into the phone booth change return trays for the homeless (and, lets’ face it, not so homeless and just greedy) folks who walk by and check every phone booth they see, when, upon seeing someone sleeping on the streets, I said, “Wouldn’t it be funny, to wake that person up and scream, ‘Get up! Get up! You’re late for work!’”

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.

May brings a good Friend

Jamie arrived in London on Saturday, 7 May. The train had him into Waverly Station, Edinburgh, at quarter past five in the afternoon. It was his first trip to the UK, and I was excited to share our new home and some of what we’ve learned with one of my best friends.
The first night gave Jamie is inaugural look at Edinburgh’s evening life. We at a little tappas place off of Princes Street and made our way back to the Coach and Horses for a few pints. The crowd seemed a bit rough and, perhaps because of the smoking atmosphere and dimly lit rooms, or perhaps because Scots age quicker, we had great difficulty determining the age of many of the people in the place.

I started Sunday off with a run. New life is springing up everywhere in the park. Jamie slept in until 3pm, okay, maybe just noon, jet lag taking its hold, and then we headed to Edinburgh for a tour of the Royal Mile. We climbed to each end, stared at the stone structures that mark the end of the most regal mile in Scotland, and settled in at Deacon Brodies for a pint and a to set a bit. Damien Rice was playing; we stayed long enough for six songs. Because we had dinner plans at Henry and Anne’s, Jamie and I caught the bus home and met Tim and Brent and made our way to our host’s wee little home in southwestern Edinburgh. Henry and Anne always seem to outdo themselves every time we go over there. The lamb (steak for me, b/c Henry knows I hate lamb), the roasted potatoes, mash and veg were excellent! The meal was introduced by a delectable prawn, mixed green leaf and mushroom salad and of course concluded, with a tasty strawberry pancake and ice cream sweet. Our conversation moved back and forth from politics and culture to movies and current events. It was a warm and well spent night. It was Jamie’s 30th Birthday as well, and I hope he remembers his very Scottish birthday for a long time.

Catholic Guilt Meets Middle Child: Formula for Worry

So, I don't have a lot of obligations with the summer group coming to Dalkeith House in a few weeks, which means that I will scamper around for several weeks figuring out how to structure my days so that I feel “productive”. Damn that Catholic guilt. Does it ever go away? I am going to try my best get as much reading done for school this fall. The summer reading list should be out soon, and I have already purchased a few of the textbooks. In addition, if the paper work ever ends, I will be supply teaching. I started the process to become a substitute teacher in December with a phone call inquiry. My first letter and application went out on 4 January. Well, after several agencies, 4 different reference letters, LOTS of waiting for people to process the multi-page documents ranging from my qualifications to my medical history, I am STILL waiting for word back. Oh, and I so naively thought that I might be teaching as early as the last week in February… 'Oh No' (said like Phoebe) Ryan, silly Ryan.

Well, in the mean time, I’ve been reading up about Edinburgh University and came across some stats and information about what a great school and reputation it has. This reputation may be why I am continually selling myself short, as so many friends have told me I am doing, about my ability (or, by my judgement, lack of ability) to be successful in such a rigorous program at such a prestigious research university.

Looking over the history and information, I found out that the University of Edinburgh was founded in 1583. I'll be attending a school that is 422 years old! It is ranked as one of the UK’s leading universities and has recently been rated as number 1 for research in Scotland.
From their website:
Scotland’s leading research University
The outstanding quality of research expertise amongst the University’s 2,500 staff is clearly reflected in the 2002 Research Assessment Exercise, where 9 Edinburgh Departments were rated 5* - the highest accolade denoting international excellence in all areas of activity - placing the University 5th in the UK for 5* ratings (after Oxford, Cambridge, Imperial College and University College London). An additional 19 were rated 5.
Edinburgh is also one of the most popular Universities in the UK. Demand is high for courses at the University, reflected in the fact that in 2001 Edinburgh had the 6th highest average A-Level score from successful candidates.
The ‘Times Newspaper Good University Guide 2001-2’ also ranked the University as Number 1 in Scotland for research and 8th in the UK from over 100 universities.

So, yeah, I am getting pretty excited and nervous. Not only does my Catholic Guilt keep me feeling less than accomplished each and every day I am not working as hard as I can, my Middle Of Five Children ‘perfectionistic’ psyche doesn’t allow me to do anything but the best, sacrificing any number of things to get there… hmmmm, yeah, good combo.

Here’s to a “productive” and “perfect” summer. No pressure, no pressure.

Okay, maybe it's no to Marriage in Amsterdam, but just REALLY good friends

Our new friend Krzysztof replied to me recently about the marriage process for gays in Amsterdam. It doesn't look good for us Americans, unless we actually move or study there, but then again, we expected as much.

It was interesting nevertheless, and I thought it may be of interest to others as well.

Thank you for the e-mail. The day after the round trip I realizedI had been quite stupid not to ask for your address as I discussed the marriage matter with Bart, my husband. He actually thought you can get married but without any chance for the document to be legalised in the USA. I wanted to check it out, but waited for a notice from Scotland in order to have a recipient's address.
Today, I did a smallresearch and shortened your way throughout the jungle of Dutch rules and regulations. Here is what I found:-The lady in the Civil Service Dept. of my city district was very friendly, but said you can not get married because none of you a) neither is a Dutch citizen b) nor has a residence permit c) nor figures on any citizens list of any community in The Netherands (bevolkingsregister).-This is what I heared from the very helpful lady at theMinistry of Foreign Affairs, the less friendly one at the international deskof the city council of The Hague and from the totally incompetent guy from the Ministry of Justice. The latter however sent me to the instution I knew I would end up sooner or later.-The Immigration and Naturalization Service (IND: Immigratie- en Naturalisatiedienst) which is one of the most severe and worst functioning institutions of this country. So I called them, pretty biassed, and to my big surprise not only the lady was friendly, but also helpful. To my question in which way you could get a residence permit (verblijfsvergunning) she responded that you need to have a residence goal. Those goals can be:1) paid work (arbeid in loondienst) 2) study at a recognised univerity or hogeschool (like auniversity but not scientific) 3) medical treatment 4) setting up your own enterprise 5) exchangeand some others which mattered less.

Study seemed to me to be the easiest one, so I asked for the conditions. Those are: 1) it has to be a recognised institution of education 2) you must be accepted and present a proof of inscription 3) and a passport 4) it must be a full time study 5) you have to prove in an official document you're not a dangerfor society 6) and you must prove to have enough money on your accountThe only positive thing is that being USA citizens at least youdon't need a visa. However, the moment one of you would be inpossession of a residence permit both of you need another wheelbarrow ofdocuments (a legalized document of birth is one of them).

I'll give you the address of the IND and the place in theirwebsite you can find it all: www.ind.nl choose English, choose residence wizard, choose I want to come to The Netherlands, fill in the form (more than 3 months probably) and choose study click left on conditions. This site will give you more possibilities to come here than those I have quoted above. As for the marriage itself, this is step three after getting here and obtaining a res. permit. A marriage is to be arranged according to Dutch regulations. The formulas proclaiming you married for the Dutch law will most probably be pronounced in Dutch, therefore. As you know, the document won't be valid in the USA. I hope to have helped you on your way a bit. If you have any questions, you can also call me home on: +31-20-######. I can guide you through the university labyrinth if you want to take thatway. I did an English spoken MA, too. Now, I'm going to prepare dinner for Bart, so I have to leave you. Say hello to Tim. Groetjes, Krzysztof

May Flowers

Jamie and I spent much of yesterday morning recovering--sleep, food, movies from Tuesday night's fun. After lunch we biked out to the North Sea to the city of Musselburgh. The weather has been just brilliant these past few days and today's is much the same. The wind got a bit chilly to sit too long and read the books that we brought, so we made our way back to Dalkeith. Two losses at chess and a sound thumping at Risk told me never to play Jamie in games again. Okay, maybe I will, but I'll stick to cards.


We depart for Alnwick to see our friend Wade, the city and the castle today. Our overnight trip should provide enough time to take in the sights and enjoy the beautiful little English city. The Duke, with some money from the royal family, has been working on re-doing the Alnwick Castle Gardens for the past three years, and we can expect to see some amazing flowers and landscaping. We're hoping to do some hiking the following day at St. Abb's Head on our return trip.

Everything's Changing

"There is nothing permanent except change."
-- Heraclitus

This is a little quote I sent along with a wee note to the students back in the US. The past ten days have been full of commotion and emotion. Eighty-three students taking finals, doing presentations, starting and finishing major research papers within the same 24 hour time period, cleaning and packing, crying and laughing, drinking to excess and staying up all night long in one house over a short period of time has been overwhelming to say the least.

We sent the students off, after a loud and dance-filled party the night before, on Friday morning. The party, once again at the Rugby club on the end of High Street, really got started when Eric Prydz “Call on Me” prompted a critical mass to flood the dance floor with the ‘rave dance craze’ that has infected the students. Many have certainly developed an appreciation for techno music. Outside of a wee bit of embarrassment from my kilt being hiked up for all on the dance floor to see—by the International Studies Admin visiting from Wisconsin, mind you!—I danced and celebrated right along with the students and had a fantastically emotional evening. Two pubs, a short walk and at least 25 sets of crying eyes later, we were back in the palace and the students would have their last night. They were off at 7:00am to catch their flight to Iceland, and ultimately to Minneapolis.

In the midst of all of this, a major election occurred. On 5/5/5, Tony Blair was re-elected as Labour took the majority of the seats in Parliament over the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats. Labour lost over 60 seats (and ended up with 356), the Tories gained 30 (for a total of 197) while the Lib Dem’s had their best showing since 1929, gaining 11 seats for a total of 62 seats. The big issues were Iraq, immigration and healthcare. Presumably, because the economy was doing as well as it is, Iraq lost Labour a boat load of seats but not enough to lose power. The parties were indistinguishable on the issue of immigration (both overtly racist and closed-minded, in my opinion). Couple those two issues alone, and surely one can see why the Lib Dem’s did do as well as they did. Healthcare is one of those complex issues with no quick solutions, so I think it was essentially a push for all parties involved on how to reduce waiting lists and improve quality. Four more years of Labour, but not four more years of Tony Blair, I think.

Jamie arrived yesterday. It’s his 30th birthday today, and he’s still in bed as I write this. The jet lag is surely keeping him asleep this long, but I’ll go rattle his cage a bit and get his butt up. He’s celebrating a birthday in Scotland for chrissake, we're getting pissed!

Getting Married in Amsterdam?

Amsterdam is a remarkable city. Our recent trip there in April assured Tim and I that there are many places in the world we could live, but there are a few places where we would very much want to live, and this place was one of them.

Our Wednesday evening travel itinerary had us arriving at the train station in Amsterdam at about 9:30pm. I didn’t think that the delay we endured, trying to locate the #4 Tram, would affect us too much. However, it was actually 10:30pm, considering the Netherlands’s time zone. So, when the Tram stopped at Prinzengracht and Utrechtsestraat, we were elated and very fortunate to find our hotel to be right on the corner; we walked in about two minutes before the attendant shut the doors for the night.

After checking in and securing our cute little basement, street side room, we made our way to Rookies near the Leidesplein district. We relaxed with a pint or two of Heinekin. What seemed like a few minues was acually and hour and they soon closed. There are a variety of cafes, coffee shops, pubs, bars and clubs, and they all have different regulations on what they can serve (coffee, hash, pot, alcohol) and when they can serve it (midnight, 1, 2 or 3am). It was our first night, so we stayed out a bit more and walked into a place called the Surprise Bar. And it was a pleasant surprise. The bartender was extra flirty, and I’m pretty sure he was straight, but just working the clientele, the music was ‘dancy’ and the place was heaving with a good mix of people. We were entertained by the attractive and playful bartenders, and then called it a night. It was a beautiful and peaceful walk home that evening, following the Prizengracht canal back to our hotel.

After breakfasting at our absolute favourite spot, Aroma, near Leidesplein, we spent the better half of Thursday morning planning and reserving our upcoming tours; we rewarded ourselves with a stop at the Van Gogh Museum. It was an impressive place. I think I was most impressed by the layout. The first floor begins the tour with artists that influenced Van Gogh, moves onto his art on the next floor, and then finishes with comparisons between his contemporaries and artists that were influenced by him. I often feel like I don’t appreciate art—the material, psychological or aesthetic value-- the way I should, but I truly felt like I understood the important and the influences before during and after the era which the art we saw depicted.

Café Bern is a tiny little fondue place located in the Niewmarket (New Market), in front of the 15th century Waag, Amsterdam’s oldest surviving gatehouse—built in 1488. We had a seven o’clock reservation and joined a Dutch couple at their table. Even though people are speaking a different language, you know when they are talking about you. This was the case with this couple, but they meant no harm, and I think the gay of the two (because they eventually told us) probably thought we were cute Americans. Oh, is that vain of me to say? We were able to cook our own thinly sliced steak over a burner on a plate with a mustard sauce while we nibble on amazing cheese--we’re in Holland--AMAZING cheese and bread. A nice bottle of red wine completed our dinner delight and a very romantic night.

Before we left Scotland, we made plans to meet two of the students, from Dalkeith House, who were also going to be in Holland, for a pint. Rookies was an easy to find destination. We met Danny and Matt and spent the evening talking about the city, the sights and first impressions of city. A quick trip to the Surprise Bar, because we had to share the quirky little place, and then they left us to check out the Red Light District, because they hadn’t been there yet! It was one of their birthdays, and I can only imagine what kind of 'fun' they got up to...I'll leave it at that.

Friday morning, after what we then decided was maybe one pint too many the previous night, we promptly found some coffee and some bread and cheese snacks at a little bakery on Utrechtsestraat, about half way between our hotel and Dam Square. Our trip to the Keukenhof, which literally means Kitchen Garden, departed via coach from Dam Square. It would be difficult, to say the least, to accurately describe Keukenhof, without over simplifying or devaluing the beauty we observed. There were miles and miles of flowers, tulips, hyacinths, mums and more and literally hundreds of colour and type varieties. I told Tim that after seeing such a wonderment, he would never, ever be satisfied with any future garden of ours. Timely in our trip, we were fortunate to visit the bright and vibrant farm during the peak week of bloom. Magnificent!

We started our evening plans, after a little nap in our hotel, which, by the way, has really grown on us by this point as an ideal place in an ideal location. It is on a beautiful canal full of house boats and right near a park and the quaint Café Marcel. We made our way to Roondvaart canal Tour Company. We had a candlelight and canal tour scheduled for 9pm. We were greeting by a beautiful young man named Krzysztof, who turned out to be our tour guide. He instantly fascinated the entire audience on the boat with his charisma and flawless lingual abilities—he spoke 7 languages fluently—Dutch, English, German, French, Spanish, Swiss and his native Polish.

The tour provided sights of the marvellous city by water, with wine and cheese and music. There was one downside to the evening, and that was having to share our table with two young American students, who were studying abroad in France. They insisted on ripping on the French and making gross generalizations about the culture and people, loudly, as most young Americans are, all while sitting next to a cute little French couple. They were not impressed and Tim and I were embarrassed. Aside from that, the tour was two hours of peaceful history and sights. Krzysztof made his way to each table to visit as much as he could between the history he was providing the 20 member audience. He mentioned that it was his one year anniversary with his husband, Bert, the next day, and that he was excited to have a day off from working. Naturally, I was intrigued to find out more about his marriage; Holland is one of only 3 countries where gays can marry legally. When it was over, I approached Krzysztof and told him I had three questions for him.

One, “May we have our picture with you?” Yes, of course.

Two, “How easy is it to get married?” He said, hmmm, that’s a tough one, let’s go to the next question.

Three, “What language do you dream in?” He said, “When I’m in Poland, I dream in Polish, but here, it’s either Dutch or French.”

His charm was just hypnotic. We really wanted to talk more with this guy! He told us to give him 10 minutes, and that he’d chat with us outside of the boat. After he’d locked up, he brought us to nearby Irish pub and bought us a beer. He described the marriage process, and said that is was easier for him and Bert because Bert is Dutch, and the license and process were not too difficult to manage, but it might be difficult for Americans to attain. He did give us some web sites and information for a gay advocacy group that might be able to help us in the process. Tim and I are really in love with the idea of marrying there—it would be special to have that type of commitment. That led to conversations about inviting people to Europe to attend—would it be possible for some of our friends and family to make it over next summer? We exchanged emails and said our goodbyes. Tim and I, feeling ‘gay’ from the great time and conversation, wondered into our only gay bar of the weekend, a place called Spikers. Great music, a decent ambiance and the din various nationalities chatting each other up made for a good scene. We’d go back, and probably will on our next trip!

Saturday brought yet, another fabulous day of weather. Sunny and warm for the third day in a row, we were told it was a rare luxury. Being the nerd that I am, I wanted to do a self-guided walking tour. We started on Dam Square and proceeded to walk down the streets following the Singel, Keizersgracht, Herengracht, Reguliersgracht, Prinzengracht and Amstel canals. We saw beautiful 17th and 18th century architecture, gables ranging from the simple to the vary ornate—shell motif, dolphin ornament, unadorned and Dutch Renaissance styles, each reflecting the prevailing political, economic or cultural influences of the respective eras. We passed the famous Yum Yum brothel, homes of famous artists and foreign ambassadors—where we learned about a very drunk Peter the Great causing a bit of trouble for the Dutch Mayor (1716). The tour was full of stylistic homes and businesses.

Our trip ended, back in Niewmarket, with some gin and tonics at Café Fonteyn. We relaxed with our journals and the paper and then caught an evening flight back to Edinburgh. The city engulfed us for several days and will remain a favourite of ours forever.