So Caroline and I flew Virgin and really had no complaints as far as the flight went (professional crew, and even the food was somewhat decent), but when you’re cooped up with fellow humans for 10 hours, I think it’s really rude to turn the cabin into your own personal fart zone.
It was also really upsetting for the Edwina with the red psycho hair in front of us to steal Caroline’s blanket when she took a bathroom break (no Caroline had not been farting). As a result, Caroline hardly slept a wink and in Manchester where we changed flights, the flight to Schiphol was delayed because it was windy in the Netherlands (isn’t it like always?). We rented a nice car and we were marveling at the quality of the roads– this happens when your own country is becoming a Banana Republic and doesn’t care about potholes anymore. It seems a particular Californian problem btw.
In The Hague, we’re staying with my sis and Caroline was crashing during dinner– I stayed up too long, talking but then I haven’t talked to Ellen and Pieter and Olivier in years, so hey, it’s all good and no one was farting. The delicioso meal and fab cheeses after dinner did give off a scent but that’s the good kind, although my dad always used to crack that certain runny French cheeses smell like a nun, coming by on a bicycle… Also, if the wine were really good, he’d say it was like an angel took a little pee on your tongue. Yes, the Dutch, so earthy…
I woke up at 4 AM and checking my phone, I noticed I needed to do some work, so three hours later, I tried to sleep some more but wasn’t very successful.
This morning Caroline and I walked through the city center of The Hague– zombie-like though not too out of it to notice how men stare at Caroline, up and down, in a sexual, lascivious sort of way– gross. I feel like stepping in, staring back at them or saying (like my grandmother used to say): “Is she wearing something that might be yours?”
Or maybe I should just lift my rear and fart at them.
Yes, I left Holland as a young woman, and now I’m fifty & fat and returning with a grown-up daughter– it’s a different world for sure…
The flowers, on the other hand, are still out of this world: