I know. I've been remiss. I've neglected my blog for far too long, but there wasn't too much to say lately. Weeeelll... I could tell you that I learned to play darts properly while M and I were in Zeeland and found it to be REALLY fun. I see a rich future ahead of me hanging out with old men in dingey bars. Maybe we'll smoke cigars and kill our livers with whiskey. And really, I can't think of a better retirement. Or maybe I could tell you that on a walk the other night I saw a house decorated for Halloween and I had to squelch a sudden urge to ring their doorbell and thank them -- and then ask for a cup of cider and some pumpkin soup. (which are two other things that say "Fall" to me...) If you don't know much about me, know this: I am OBSESSED with pumpkin. Can't get enough of the stuff. Love it in pie, love it in muffins, love it in frozen yogurt (I'm not kidding. We have that in my hometown.) I love it any way, shape or form. And if you've lately had a pumpkin beer, don't tell me about it. It would break my heart. I miss it so. But mostly I've come a-runnin' back to this space to share the biggest news I've had in awhile. Today, I began the inburgeringscursus. (Doesn't that word just roll right off your tongue?) In other words (namely English ones) I started the government sponsored (and required for all foreigners outside the EU) Dutch language and culture class. My reaction to the first day? Mweh. It was okay. I didn't hate it and I didn't love it. After the teacher instructed us which lessons to do and left the room, there were a few "kids" in the class that got rowdy. Oh my. Did I just use the word "rowdy." Apparently, this class is going to devolve me to my 13 year old self when those annoying boys in class just wouldn't stop drumming on their desks -- stop drumming on your desk!!! -- while I was studiously hunched over my social studies book learning about the Croatan. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croatan) But, luckily, I was quickly adopted by a group of girls, who seem like they actually want to learn Dutch, and we left the room to find a quieter study space. (And, of course, I promptly told the teacher some of the other students were acting up and disturbing us.)(not really)What I find really amazing is that when you live away from your own country, you tend to fall in with people from all over the world who are in the same situation as you. And in your home country, it's quite possible that you'd never get to know someone from that place. Here are the nationalities of the women I met today: Brazilian, Japanese, Peruvian, Polish, Russian, and Romanian. And meeting these women also drove home how lucky I am that English is my mother tongue. There are so many people out there that learn our language. Imagine it: you can go almost anywhere in the world and find someone to talk with in the language you express yourself best in. I bet there are some Finnish or Javanese people out there who would love to travel and always have their first language to rely on. But most of all... this burning question... a question I've pondered for the past year (me, American girl living with a Dutch man) ... a question I've discussed with (many) other foreign women I've met here in Holland (and there are LOTS of us) ... a question we'd never dare ask a Dutch woman (those women we foreigner girls seem to almost outnumber) ... this question lingered in my mind all day (when I met all these additional foreign girls):
Why don't Dutch men marry their own women? Hmmmmm?
