See beneath the beautiful

He asked me: ‘why are we always looking for the perfect person, while we will never find them, while we will have to settle for less?’ I asked him: ‘does that bother you, knowing that you are going to end up with someone who isn’t perfect?’ He said it did not bother him, but as I looked into his eyes I saw a different answer. His eyes told a different story than his mouth, and at that moment I was the only one able to hear that second story, the untold. I wanted to tell him that we do not need someone perfect, but all we need is someone that treats us as if we are. I knew that this sounded too much as a line from a Nicholas Sparks novel, and not enough as the truth so I kept my mouth shut and nodded while I rested my head on his shoulders. Without saying a word I thought about how I wanted him to be that person for me, how I wanted him to know me in my purest and most selfless forms. And I know that there will always be flaws, errors and tiny mistakes, but the true goal is to find a person who looks beyond your beautiful and who actually appreciates your inside and every bit of it. Right there and right then, I felt like I had found that person, it was him.

Some people can make you feel that way, as if you were perfect. It will be the man who takes your breath away, but gives you a whole lot more back for it. It will be the man who is not afraid to show you his weakness, his struggles, his pain and more important, even: his love for you. You need to give that man a chance though, because too often we do not recognize him at first. He built the walls around him, but it is up to you to break those down, brick by brick until you know him as well as you know yourself.

For a moment I thought I had found him. My guy. The guy I needed. Even though in the end it did not turn out the way I had wanted it too, that small moment gave me some kind of hope. It is a feeling I like to recall: that moment when it finally seemed like my jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces had been put together into a coherent whole. I know now that I do not have to search in order to find, that I do not need to reach out in order to get help, but most of all: that I do not have to ask in order to get an answer to my questions.

Midnight chatter

Picture this: a winter night, along with hail and temperatures way below zero. After a party he asked her to sit with him for a little while, even though it was 4 a.m; it did not matter to him. As he saw her hesitant smile he added: ‘it is just hanging out, nothing else’. Somehow his words reassured her and made her say yes. He told her he was taking her to one of his favorite places in the city, where he often sat to think. Along the banks of the river, they sat on a bench, their teeth clattering from the cold, but it was okay. He offered her his headphones to at least keep her ears warm, an adorable and thoughtful gesture coming from this big, tough guy who turned out to be so kind once you got to know him.

After chatting for a while, he asked her a question. The exact words she could not remember, but the answer he was expecting was one she could not even provide that easily. He had asked her to define herself, as a person. Such a seemingly simple question got her mind working over-hours and left her wondering if she was supposed to know this. Was she expected to have her answer ready just like that? True, she never had any trouble answering any other questions quick, whitty and smart, but this was different.
She sat there for some time, thinking. Meanwhile a boat passed by, making waves in the water, turning the river into somewhat of an ocean for just a little while. Finally, she explained to him who she had been, who she could be and who people thought she was.
Silently she was hoping that he did not notice that the true answer to his question had never come.

A while ago

Silently falling, the last leaves from the trees. Autumn has done its job, now it is time for the winter, in all its dashing white glory, to arrive in this country. This country where everyone complains about the cold in the winter, the heat in the summer and the rain in spring and fall. This is the land of the indecisive people that never seem to quite wrap their minds around how to behave out in the open. Skirts and tops that are way too revealing, or double jumpers and long underwear that make people sweat in public, everything is possible here.

In this world of seemingly available possibilities though, I am stuck. Stuck because I do not know where to go next. Where else will I be able to find a home as warm and comforting as I have right now, right here? It will be an absolute challenge to find something quite like this. But is that even what I want? Something similar? Similar things will bring similar problems and similar bores. To be honest, I do not think I can handle this kind of boredom again. Of course, it will also bring similar joys. However, maybe it is the point to find joy in other things, in other situations, where I am not yet used to everything. It will be challenging, it will be hard at times, and it will be disappointing at times, I am fairly certain of that. Finding happiness in a new surrounding and in a new setting will give me a more fulfilled feeling, a feeling of an actual achievement even. At least, that is what I hope.

And then, after a while, there will be the day that I return to this country and all of a sudden I will see how small my world had been before I left. It will probably strike me how simple life had been thus far, in this country where people are brutally honest about strangers, but painfully silent about people they know. Where and when I will start this new experience is something that is hard to say. I will have to arrange it, though; I cannot just let it come, because it simply will not just come. Cautious planning and careful thinking will get me there, but most important of all: my motivation. My motivation will get me wherever I want to go.

Tough life of a teenager

Oh how confusing the life of a teenager can be at times.
You want to drink, but you do not want the hangover the day after. Man, those are some serious decisions to be made. You may decide not to drink at all and still have a nice evening, but certainly it would be more spectacular, embarrassing, shocking and hilarious when you got drunk. The day after however will also be shocking, it will be shocking how horrible you look and how horrible you feel...
Another dilemma is that you want to eat the entire chocolate bar, bowl of M&M's, and jar of Ben & Jerry's, but you absolutely do not want to be a chubby kid. Because everybody knows: chubby kids are well... chubby. And that is not a positive thing. Of course there are boys that dig them lovehandles and stuff, but generally speaking you better be average sized to get yourself a decent boyfriend! Also, you want to watch the latest episode of Gossip Girl, but you do not want to have to wait a whole more week for the next one. This really is a painful dilemma. The best thing about waiting is that you can spend one entire Sunday afternoon a month watching episodes of your favorite series, preferably accompanied by a chocholate bar and a bowl of M&M's but yeah, we have addressed that issue before...
People always talk about the children in Africa being so poor and having such a tough time. But honestly, they do not even have decisions to make, so doesn't that make us, Western teenagers much more miserable? The African kids should feel sorry for us Oh the tough life of us teenagers... (and no, I am not being serious, it is called sarcasm! I can proudly say I speak sarcasm fluently)

A girl can dream, right?

Someday I will have a kitchen like this. Someday when me and my husband have moved to the British countryside with our three adorable children, that is. In the weekends we will have both our families over for luxury dinners and lazy brunches. All the cousins will play together in our backyard, playing hide and seek; chasing one another through our orchard while secretly eating all the berries and apples, because that is what kids do. There will be pillow fights and running around the house, up and down the stairs. The adults will be angry, telling the children to stop acting so foolish and just calm down and go to bed, but in our hearts we admire them for their energy and hearing their loud laughs makes us proud.

In the winter we will spend long cozy evenings not in front of the telly, but in front of the fireplace while looking at each other over our steaming cups of tea. I probably spent all of the afternoon in the kitchen with my children, baking a delicious pie for us to enjoy after our supper. And then when all is said and done, the sun has set and the children are off to bed, my husband and I will silently sit next to each other, his arms wrapped around me, counting ourselves lucky to have such a blessed life. We will realise that it could have been different, it could have been so different. My husband and I will make breakfast for our precious little children before taking them to school and go our separate ways to work. The daily rituals are always the same, but never will they be a bore. It will be our days, our lives, our little universe.

When spring finally comes after a long, cold winter, we will redecorate our house to let the fresh air in. Our children will stand against the wall and carefully measure how much they have grown over the winter and draw a new line above the old one. They will be disappointed because they want to be bigger, they want to be stronger and they want to be older. All I want is for them is to stop growing, to stay this way for just another couple of years so that I can enjoy it for just a little longer. My husband will tell me how gorgeous I look when I am sitting on a little bench in the garden, reading a book that I have read so many times already. He will kiss me on my forehead and go for a long walk with our children. When they come back we will all sit around the big and robust wooden table that my husband built with his friends. The children will raise their voices because they have so many adventures to share with me. How the youngest one tried to climb a tree and how the two siblings helped him getting out again when he had climbed too high and got scared. How their dad just stood there watching them because they had convinced them they were strong enough to solve the problem by themselves, and they were right. They had grown up.

Nederlanders op vakantie

Het blijft een heel interessant fenomeen: Nederlanders op vakantie.
Wij als Nederlanders zijn misschien nog wel het meest herkenbare volk in het buitenland.

In het buitenland is alles duur, dus wat doen Nederlanders? Juist, we nemen lekker overal onze eigen lunch mee naartoe, bij voorkeur een 'Franse' baguette van de campingwinkel, besmeerd met de meegebrachte pindakaas of hagelslag. Of nog erger: pindakaas én hagelslag! Zie je ergens op een picknickplek (een bankje) een gezinnetje zitten met broodjes, terwijl daarnaast een heerlijk eetcafé/bistro/restaurant zit? Het zijn Nederlanders.

Een stel van middelbare leeftijd, loopt gezellig met een DIRK-supermarkttas over de camping. De vrouw heeft waarschijnlijk een gebloemd jurkje aan van de V&D, de H&M, of de C&A, want Nederlanders zijn gek op grote commerciele modeketens. De man gaat gekleed in een zwembroek met polo, uitgezocht door z'n vrouw. Beiden zijn eerder rood dan bruin gekleurd door de zon, want ze willen natuurlijk vooral genieten van de zon aan het water. Al deze kenmerken schreeuwen: WIJ ZIJN NEDERLANDERS!!!

Nog meer dingen? Nederlanders praten Nederlands, en ja, óók tegen Franse obers praten zij Nederlands. Vinden ze heel grappig, onder het motto: 'Hij praat Frans wat ik niet versta, dus praat ik Nederlands' "HAHAHAHAHA" De bierbuik van de desbetreffende vijftigjarige nederlandse man schudt heftig mee met zijn bulderende lach.
Ook typisch Nederlands. In een restaurant is het namelijk helemaaaal niet erg om hard te praten.... (tip; het is WEL erg, dus ssssssst)

Nederlandse kindjes vallen in het buitenland vooral onder de categorie: schattig.
Meisjes in een roze bikini met ruches, jongens in een zwembroekje en een duikbril om hun nek, maar het meest opvallende: hun blonde haartjes, netjes in een vlechtje, dan wel kuifje. Met hun blauwe ogen laten ze menig italiaan of spanjaard smelten: 'Che bella bambina!'
Ze zijn trouwens ook te herkennen aan hun fietsjes, stepjes of zwembandjes, lekker makkelijk.

Al deze typische Nederlandse dingen zijn misschien iets aangedikt, maar feit is wel dat Nederlanders heel gemakkelijk te herkennen zijn op vakantie in het buitenland. Misschien omdat je ze van verre aan hoort komen, misschien vanwege bovenstaande dingen, of een heel ander 'je ne sais quoi'-iets.

Waarschijnlijk pas ik zelf trouwens ook wel bij dit geschetste beeld, want wij nemen zelf óók wel eens pindakaas mee op vakantie.......

I'm still Dutch

Oké, misschien was ik iets te optimistisch. Het lijkt wel alsof ik in het Engels mijn stukjes zelf minder leuk vind. Misschien is dat ook wel zo, ik ben en blijf een Nederlander!

Niet helemaal waar.
Ik las laatst al mijn oude stukjes terug, maar het enige wat ik zag was een dalende lijn qua optimisme!
Dus vanaf nu, is het optimisme terug, want ik schrijf weer in het Nederlands!

Há, op twitter ben ik fervent volger van de 'Awkward moment when' account. Je raadt het al: allemaal voorbeelden van genante momenten verschijnen op Twitter. Herken je jezelf erin, dan is het natuurlijk de bedoeling dat je het "Retweet", maar dat laat ik meestal achterwege, het is niet voor niets AWKWARD
Toch even een paar voorbeelden:
- "The awkward moment when you go into your wardrobe to find Narnia, but instead end up just being a moron stuck in your wardrobe"
Ja dat is natuurlijk onwijs vervelend. Ik ben 16 maar natuuuurlijk geloof ik nog in de magie van de fantasy-films, dus meteen nadat ik Narnia had gezien, raapte ik al mijn moed bij elkaar en je raadt het al: ik liep de kast in. Nou moet je je even voorstellen dat mijn kast nog niet eens 1 m2 is, dus het was sowieso al krap. Die enorme teleurstelling toen ik bij de achterkant van de kast aankwam, zal ik nooit vergeten. Ik hoopte natuurlijk dat er geen einde aan de kast zou komen, maar dat viel tegen toen ik een bloedneus had: ik had mijn hoofd gestoten...

Oké je merkt het al wel weer. Niet alleen typ ik weer in het Nederlands, mijn verfijnde gevoel voor sarcastische verhaaltjes is ook weer teruggekomen!
Maar dan even zonder grappen. Er worden ook momenten getweet / twitterd waarvan ik denk: 'JA, dat heb ik écht altijd!!'
Bereid je voor op de serieuze voorbeelden, jullie gaan me weer een stukje beter leren kennen:

- "The awkward moment when someone walks in on you singing to yourself."
Oh hoe vaak ik dat al wel niet mee heb gemaakt. En dan precies op de momenten dat ik het liedje eigenlijk niet meer aankan. Denk aan uithalen á la Céline Dion, Beyonce en Glee. Die momenten dus.....
Oh terwijl ik dit typ zing ik trouwens mee met mijn playlist, dus jullie hebben geluk dat er geen audioverbinding is.

- "The awkward moment when you go completely out of your way to avoid someone and then end up running into them anyway"
Deze kent iedereen wel denk ik. Lekker in het zonnetje aan het fietsen, in een chill tempo en ineens zit je achter een slome dikke man. Natuurlijk zou je deze persoon normaliter meteen inhalen, maar je beseft je dat het je leraar is; die ene die je haat. Het is sowieso al awkward om een leraar buiten school tegen te komen, maar om 'm dan ook nog in te moeten halen? Dat gaat te ver. Gelukkig weet je een omweg, gewoon even tussendoor en dan rechts links. En daar staat hij dan weer, voor het stoplicht, z'n dikke buik op zijn benen hangend, met het zweet op zijn rug. 'HÁ, VERA!' 'Ah........ hai meneer......'
Hoe triest... Voor niks die omweg gefietst.

En hoe Awkward is dat allemaal?
Take a look at my awkward face:













Opzich zou ik nog eeuwen door kunnen schrijven over Awkward Moments uit mijn dagelijks leven, maar ik denk dat jullie eerst even moeten wennen aan het feit dat ik überhaupt iets op deze Blog schrijf, dus succes met het verwerken van deze shock!

xliefs,
Vera