Imperfection is beauty

Sunday, 27 November 2016

Sugar and spice, and all things nice

As an adult, I don’t do much regarding Sinterklaas. Other than eating way too many chocolate covered pepernoten, that is. As a little girl, I loved it though. For me, Sinterklaas meant getting up at the break of dawn and sneaking down the stairs with my little brother to see what we got in our shoes. It meant a cosy evening with my grandmother, parents, brother and a whole lot of presents. These are some of my sweetest and loveliest memories growing up. It also meant getting to eat a bunch of sugary, chocolaty deliciousness. None of this, not for one second, had anything to do with the way Sinterklaas’ helper looked like. For me it was a time of the year when I felt loved the most and that was in no way whatsoever dependent on the looks of Zwarte Piet.

When I was little, I believed that Zwarte Piet was black because he climbed down chimneys for a living. Later (although I’m afraid it took me way longer than I care to admit) it dawned on me that chimneys don’t make you look that black. Sure, I haven’t spent much, if any, time hanging out in them myself, so my realisation isn’t based on any empirical research… it’s just common sense. I’m pretty sure chimneys aren’t able to make hair curly, add gold earrings and apply red lipstick either. When I looked at Zwarte Piet objectively, I realized how weird he looked. Not to mention all the connections to slavery, blackface and plain old racism (just listen to some of the old Sinterklaas-songs). It made me feel uncomfortable.

What makes me feel even more uncomfortable is how this little country of mine has acted in responds to people simply addressing the fact that Zwarte Piet’s looks offends and hurts them. These feelings are valid. And one group of people can’t tell another group of people that they shouldn’t feel the way they feel.

I’d like to think, as many people I imagine, that I’m not ordinary. However, I’m pretty sure my childhood memories of our Sinterklaas celebrations are quite ordinary. For children Sinterklaas is about time with family, presents, hot chocolate and all sorts of candy. It isn’t about the way Zwarte Piet does or doesn’t look. So why not change his looks? Who will this hurt? The way I see it, the only people this will affect negatively are those selling black facial paint and red lipstick.

Monday, 18 July 2016

My month in Bali and the Gili Islands

Bali - Munduk

It's been a little over two years (June 2014) since I spent a month in Bali and the Gili Islands. By myself. But I still think about it often. It was an incredible adventure! Liberating, scary, thrilling and beautiful.

Bali - near Ubud - Tegalalang Rice Terrace

The morning I left felt strange and surreal. I had to get up at un ungodly hour. I got ready, strapped on my backpack (I was so proud thinking it didn't weigh that much... boy was I wrong!) and left my apartment. It was just getting light out and the streets were empty and quiet. By then I was living alone for about 2,5 years. During that time I've never really felt lonely, but I did in that moment. I'd never travelled by myself before and although I usually like doing things by myself, walking alone in my silent neighbourhood that morning with my gigantic backpack (on my way to the tram, to get to the train station, to get to the airport...), I wondered whether I'd made a mistake. Turns out I didn't!

Bali - Ulundanu Beratan Temple

Bali - Ubud - The Monkey Forest (Don't go! The monkeys will bite!)

The only things I'd booked beforehand were my plane tickets and a hotel room for the first two nights. After travelling for over 20 hours, I was exhausted, caught a cold on the plane and pretty much melted as soon as I stepped out of the airport (so hot!). I'd read the right taxi to take and I was so excited to find one right away. Turns out all the taxis look alike and it's pretty difficult to distinguish the right ones. Like a real tourist, I was ripped off majorly! I forgot all about it though once I was in my hotel room... a shower and bed never made me so happy! After sleeping for what must have been about 15 hours, I went out to explore (and to find food). Those first two nights I stayed in Kuta. Even though I hadn't booked any other hotels, I had a rough idea of the route I wanted to travel. After Kuta, up to Ubud, into the mountains and the tiny village of Munduk, then to the north shore (Anturan), off to the Gili Islands, then travelling around Lombok, back to Bali, staying in Padangbai and Sanur before going back to Kuta and then home.

Bali - Gitgit Waterfall

Bali - Munduk - The view from my hotel room balcony

Bali - near Munduk - Melanting Waterfall

If I didn't already know it before, I definitively learned now that things rarely turn out the way you plan them. A monkey bite (and the following series of shots on a certain schedule), a lovely old-fashioned fishermen's town that wasn't so lovely anymore, an ATM machine swallowing my credit card and my love affair with the Gili Islands (where I stayed a bit too long so I didn't have time left to travel through Lombok) all made me change my plans. Yes, some of it was scary. Getting bit by a monkey, figuring out a reliable but affordable doctor to go to, arranging my travels around needing a shot every week, convincing people at a bank who don't speak English very well to get my credit card out of that annoying machine asap... scary! But finding out I can do all of that, in a foreign country, by myself... pretty amazing! Okay, yes, I racked up quite the phone bill with a few calls to my parents, but I did figure it all out on my own and it didn't make me love my adventure any less. Perfect isn't everything! And as it turns out, travelling alone is my jam. No compromises. Going where ever I want. Doing whatever I want. No need to consult anyone. Loved it!

Lombok - Gili Meno

Lombok - Gili Meno - The cutest book 'shop'

Lombok - Gili Meno

Monday, 29 April 2013

Collecting stories

A close friend of mine is beautifully pregnant with only about 5 short weeks to go before becoming an awesome momma. With all the baby present buying, placing bets on whether it's going to be a boy or girl, and talk of baby names (and trying to make her feel guilty that she's not letting me in on the secret of the names they've picked out - I'm so incredibly curious!), I have babies on the brain. Personally, I don't want them. I don't see myself as a mom, I don't see myself taking on the massive task of raising kiddos, and I absolutely don't see myself walking around with a gigantic belly (although, I had this weird dream once...). Somehow my biological clock isn't ticking. At all! Every once in a while it bothers me a little. Sometimes it feels like everyone around me is either getting pregnant or talking about wanting to get pregnant and I feel like the odd one out. Why am I different? Why don't I feel the same way? But once those little moments are over, I mostly feel pretty happy with not wanting kids. I get to spend my life however I want. I get to spend all of my money on myself and don't have to spend a boatload of cash on a tiny person who depends on me. My boobs get to stay pretty and not used to feed someone (too much info? I'm sorry, it just makes me happy!). I also don't have to worry about finding the right guy in time. And if there happens to come a time when my uterus is starting to make deafening clock-like sounds after all, I'm okay with having kids a little later in life. I always used to think I'd better change my mind pretty quickly, because I didn't want to be old like my parents. They had their first child (me!) at 31. Which, of course, isn't that old at all! But I was young and annoying and I felt like my parents were ancient. My mom told me once that when she used to pick me up from school, some of the other moms thought she was there for her grandchild. So I felt I needed to have kids before I was 30 or not have them at all. Since then, however, I've come to appreciate my parents for being a little older (nowadays, 31 isn't old at all, but in those days most people started having babies in their twenties). I always like to listen to their stories of times from before I was born. Things they've experienced. People they've known. Heartaches they've been through. Happinesses they've enjoyed. Places they've travelled to. They had time to collect those stories before I (and a little later, my brother) came into their lives. I haven't collected nearly enough stories yet! There is still extremely much I want to see and do in my life. In the first place, obviously, for myself. But if I ever decide I do want children after all, I like the idea of being a little older and having a beautiful collection of stories to tell (and if I never change my mind, which I'm starting to suspect, I'll just annoy all of my friends' kids with my stories!).

Just to be sure:

Of course this little story isn't meant to offend anyone who decided to have kids a little younger than what I'm talking about here. I think you're awesome! And beautiful! And you rock! Perhaps I'm a little late in life with collecting my stories and you've already collected some great stories to tell (I'm jealous!). Perhaps you didn't want to be seen as a grandmother when picking up your kids from school. Anyway, this is just how I feel about my own life and it doesn't reflect one tiny bit how I feel about anyone elses choices and paths in life.