Caliban - Opinion and Righteous Anger

Well, it's been all go over at Macdonald Acres.

Our big move happens next Friday and we're still in the thick of packing up our belongings. Jack, Sarah's brother, arrived this afternoon and will be staying with us for a couple of days. It's nice to have a visitor again.

My theoretical last day of employment with Google came and went, but not without event. Senior staff with four years of experience working for the company are something of a rarity and cannot, by definition, be hired afresh, so I have been made a generous offer to remain with the company even after our transatlantic move.

After some surprisingly easy negotiations, the upshot is as follows. I will leave Google Inc. (the American company) and receive the offer of a transfer to Google BV (the Dutch company). The new salary I have been offered is generous by Dutch standards and the small number of unvested shares I have outstanding would continue to vest at the same rate as now.

Since I honestly don't know how I will feel about the prospect of full-time employment three months from now (after all, I've spent the last year thinking that I would take on the role of full-time father and travel around Europe with Sarah), I'm going to take a three month unpaid sabbatical from now until early November.

At the end of this sabbatical, I will either accept the transfer to Google Netherlands or simply thank them for their kind offer and choose a new path in life.

If I do choose to work for Google Netherlands, it doesn't actually mean that I'd be working for the Dutch company in an organisational sense; it merely means that I'd be on the Dutch payroll and enjoy the benefits afforded workers in The Netherlands. I'd still work for Operations, doing much the same work as I do now. My boss might change to be someone closer to home, probably in Ireland, but that would be about the only concrete change from my current circumstances.

I'm not yet sure whether I'd work from the Google office in Amsterdam or simply toil from home. It would depend how much of a distraction having Sarah and Eloïse around turned out to be. Furthermore, having colleagues in an office forces one to be sociable, so that's another aspect I might enjoy. On the other hand, the Amsterdam office is really only a sales office and I don't want to become the de facto Windows helpdesk bitch (which is virtually impossible, anyway, as I know very little about Windows desktops these days).

Anyway, this is all just so much musing and theory at the present time. Right now, it's hard to imagine continuing to work full-time for anyone, even Google, after our move. I mean, Google's a fantastic company to work for, but how can any job be so much fun that it's more attractive than all of the other things one could be doing with one's time? A great job is still just a job, right? It can surely never be more fun than biking through the Ardennes, sipping coffee in a Parisian café, glacier-walking in Iceland, snorkeling in Hawaii, trekking to Machu Picchu in Peru, visiting the hill tribes of Thailand and Vietnam, listening to street musicians in Cuba, riding a horse in Mongolia, ascending the mountains of Pakistan and Nepal, or immersing oneself in the culture of Iran and Syria.

We'll see how I feel three months from now. At the very least, this new development means I will now remain an (unpaid) employee of Google until at least November.

I've put up new photos of Eloïse from weeks eleven and twelve. These will probably be the last photos for a while, as the movers turn up next Wednesday to pick up our stuff. We then fly out of here on Friday and will have no Net access for a while, unless someone in our neighbourhood happens to have an open wireless access point (fingers crossed).

We're now mostly packed and ready for the movers to arrive in the morning.

It's somehow always quite saddening and a little bit distressing to see the place you'd once called home in utter disarray. We gave our couch away this evening, along with our television. Our beloved TiVo is packed away and will probably be given away tomorrow. Never again will we watch its 70+ episodes of Globe Trekker, but we were, at least, smart enough to transfer them all onto DVD+RW last week. Watching those in Europe will bring back sweet memories of our TV time here. They even formed the inspiration for our honeymoon through South-East Asia.

As I surveyed what was once our living room this evening, I must admit I shed a tear. Yes, the place was dingy; yes, the carpet was stained and ugly; yes, the neighbourhood was shitty concrete and devoid of character; but at the same time, it was home; our home, Eloïse 's home. She was born here, upstairs, in the bedroom. For that reason alone, 49 Showers Drive will always be a little bit special to me.

Tomorrow, we begin a two night stay in a hotel in Palo Alto. On Friday, we leave the US for good on flight KL606. Saturday, we arrive at our new home in Amsterdam.

It's going to be a wacky few days.

I've no idea what our network access is going to be like over the next few days, so if I post no updates, you'll understand why.

The movers came on Wednesday and took all of our belongings with them in a large shipping container, which will be loaded onto a ship within the next few days and then make its way to Amsterdam.

We weren't quite as ready as we'd thought and so had quite a lot of packing to do on the day of the move itself. Once the move was over, we also had to spend quite a lot of time getting our last few belongings into bags, ready to take onto the plane. We also had to clean up around the house, in preparation for the next tenant.

All of this work meant that we didn't actually leave the old house until just before 18:00, at which time we drove to Palo Alto and checked into a hotel for two nights.

We spent that evening with Matt, Randie and their four lovely children, the most recent addition to whom resembles a four month old sumo wrestler.

Today was much more relaxed. I had to pop into Google to send a fax, then Sarah and I ran a last few errands: new trousers for me, dummies (pacifiers in American) for Wiesje for take-off and landing, and a quick visit to Stanford Shopping Mall to return a few items, followed by one last milkshake at the Creamery.

We had dinner at the hotel tonight, and how pleasant it was not to have to either drive or walk somewhere. Geoff turned up later in the evening for coffee, cookies and some lively discussion.

In a few hours, we'll close our bags, load the car and make our way to San Francisco airport. Twenty-four hours from now, we'll have embarked on the next exciting chapter of our life and be living in Amsterdam. It's hard to believe this day has finally come.

Although it's returning home for me, it's still a daunting prospect. How much will Amsterdam and The Netherlands have changed? How much have I changed? How will Sarah experience living in this new country? How easy will the adjustment to a completely new lifestyle and environment be?

The coming months will provide answers to these questions. Success is not assured, but we have every reason to be optimistic. It would be foolhardy, however, to ignore the fact that a large effort will be required on our part to readjust and help each other settle in. Plus we have a new daughter who needs a lot of love from us.

Sarah and I are very excited to find out what the future holds for us. We're reinventing our lives and it's going to be fascinating to see where the combination of our efforts and happenstance carry us.

And now to bed.

I'll keep this short, as we're around at a friend's house, using her computer.

As you can surmise, we made it to Amsterdam intact and are now living in a rented house. However, we're quite unhappy with it and are considering moving elsewhere.

For one thing, most of the nice furnishings that attracted us to the house in the first place have been removed since our friends viewed the property, so that which we signed for is not that which we received. I'm very angry about this, but accommodation doesn't grow on trees here, so I'm not yet sure what the solution will be. In the meantime, we have no comfortable furniture, no tables and a crappy old television that can't even do Teletext.

Since arriving, we've accomplished a few of the bureaucratic tasks through which we must wade, but Sarah's residence permit is going to take longer than I'd thought, because extra time is needed to verify our marriage certificate (yes, even though it has an apostille attached).

I've got a new mobile phone. If you want to call us, ring my old mobile number and you'll get my voice mail message, informing you of the new number.

We were supposed to have a new house phone as of last Friday, but it's not working and no-one works at the weekend. Hopefully, this problem will be fixed early in the coming week.

DSL is going to take a little longer. I received a letter from the KPN, informing me that I can expect to wait 20 business days for our new DSL connection to be delivered. Bah! I might try to see if I can cancel the order and get cable Internet instead, because that would probably have a shorter delivery time.

The culture shock is surprisingly significant. Things feel (and are) very crowded and neither of us is used to this (any more). Places are not baby-friendly (lots of smoke), the weather is horribly humid and the pace of life is snail-like. It takes an infuriatingly long time to get anything done, partially because no-one whose job is to provide service is in any hurry to do so.

As you can see, I'm complaining already. It feels as if we have a mountain to climb in terms of the number of tasks we must accomplish to establish something approaching a normal life here. At the moment, things feel very alien -- even to me -- and we're struggling quite hard just to stay in good spirits.

It's clearly going to take a while to get on our feet and feel settled here, perhaps a lot longer than we'd considered. Time will tell.

Given the lack of Internet connection, communication from our side is going to be sparse for the next four weeks. Don't expect blog entries or replies to e-mail during this period.

Life without modern technology is hard; really bloody hard.

I had not accurately assessed how dependent we would be on the Internet after our move from California to Amsterdam. It seems that, these days, everyone requires you to fill in forms on-line, be able to send and receive e-mail, manage your account with them via the Web, etc., etc. I knew that we would need an Internet account before very long, of course, but I had no idea that life would come to a virtual standstill without Net connectivity.

Anyway, that was remedied today, when our do-it-yourself ADSL kit arrived in the post. The KPN had said in a letter that we received last Saturday that it could take up to four business weeks, but it actually took only a couple of days for the package to arrive. The postman had been trying to deliver the package for the last couple of days, but we haven't been at home, so today I collected it myself from the post office on the Singel.

I had to visit a hardware shop to buy a set of screwdrivers in order to remove the wood panelling behind our front door, which is home to the house's telephone cabling, cable TV wiring and other crud. That's where I had to connect the DSL modem and stow the related wiring.

Anyway, we're now up and running via XS4ALL (my ISP for more than 10 years already) with 3200 kbps downstream and 768 kbps up: very respectable. That's about three times the downstream bandwidth I had in Mountain View and twice the upstream. This package costs €60 per month. For another €20, we could have 8 Mbit downstream, but that seems excessive, even by my spoilt Silicon Valley standards. Maybe we'll get that one when we buy our own house!

Interestingly, the KPN had warned me that we may be too far from the central office (CO) to be able to get stable DSL service here, but that must surely be a mistake, as we're in the centre of the city and my initial tests indicate that we're getting close to the maximum of the bandwidth reserved for us.

Our land-line has obviously also been connected. An engineer came here on Tuesday to fix that for us, so we now have a fixed phone, a mobile phone and DSL. All that remains on the communication front is to get Sarah a mobile phone and we'll be as reachable as we were back in California.

Anyway, it's time to catch up on e-mail and all of the other things that have been happening unbeknownst to us whilst we were reduced to unwilling techno-trogladites.

I'll post more on our adventures here, both good and bad, over the next few days.

What do tobacco companies and military recruiters have in common? Not much, you say.

Well, take another look. It seems that cynical and devious marketing plays a significant role in the agenda of both branches of, er, industry. Come to think of it, both can end up killing you, too.

In an effort to cure me of any misplaced homesickness I might be harbouring for the US, my good friend Geoff sent me this article, which shines the spotlight on the techniques used by American military recruiters to bait and hook the young and vulnerable of America for use as cannon fodder.

Geoff's strategy worked. Whilst I might, indeed, be missing my friends and the Californian climate, I could never feel at home in a country that cynically exploits its youth like this. Consequently, I am feeling less of a hypocrite since our return to Europe and am glad that Sarah and I will be raising our daughter here.

In case you're curious to know what we've been up to since our move, here's a rundown of the last couple of weeks. I kept a small journal for the first few days of our life here, so the recollections from that period will be good. For the last few days, however, I'll have to dredge up events from my memory.

12th and 13th August

Wiesje cried for about five minutes on board the plane. Other passengers commented on how well she had done. On Thursday, Sarah and I had bought her a dummy to suck on during take-off and landing, and this turned out to work very well.

Joost and Helma picked us up from the airport and brought us home with our six checked-in bags and multiple items of hand luggage.

When we arrived at our new home, the landlord and his wife were still cleaning the place and hauling away rubbish. After they had shown us around the place, we were left to our own devices. Tired, but hyped up on nervous energy, we went out for a short walk in the afternoon, paying a quick visit to the local Albert Heijn to purchase some groceries.

In the evening, we grabbed a quick dinner at an outside table of a Thai restaurant across the road. When Wiesje became tired and started to cry, some old folks at the table behind us started to criticise our parenting skills, thinking that I couldn't understand Dutch. They thought she was too cold in her sling. I considered pointing out that our daughter was jetlagged, not cold, and that they should take more care when they talk about people who are within earshot, but I didn't want our first day back to be marred by an exchange of harsh words. As it happened, the experience marred the day, anyway.

All in all, it was an inauspicious start to our new life back in The Netherlands. No tears of joy, no inner feeling of contentment; no sense at all of having returned to my true home. Did I get it wrong? Am I American inside now? I started to wonder.

I can't finish talking about the 12th without taking a moment to thank Geoff, who ensured that I got to the airport on time with the remainder of our many, many bags.

14th August

The calm before the storm. Not much can be done today, so we decide to take it easy and just amble around town.

A good jet lag strategy on Saturday means that Sarah and I awake at 09:30 Sunday morning and are over the problem in one fell swoop. Eloïse will take a litle longer to adjust, however.

We grab breakfast at Café Nielsen (a spot discovered by Geoff and me last year) and are immediately irritated by the acrid smell of cigarette smoke wafting our way from somewhere. Yes, we're definitely back in The Netherlands.

I knew this was going to be an issue, but now that I'm a father, I realise I had underestimated how much it would now offend me. In terms of public smoking policy, this place is in the dark ages and will continue to piss me off until smoking is banned from catering establishments.

Later in the day, we start to look into getting a fixed phone, a mobile phone and ADSL. I do the paperwork for a home phone at the Primafoon shop and try to sign up to have my 10 year old XS4ALL dial-in subscription converted to an ADSL one, but alas, my address is still listed as the one I lived at back in 1999 and the woman helping me is worried that this will throw a spanner in the works of the order.

XS4ALL's customer service is closed, so I have to wait until Monday to fix the problem.

15th August

We head down to the Dienst Persoonsgevens early in the morning to get a residence permit for Sarah. It turns out that all we can do for now is take away some forms to fill in. Things have changed a lot since I first arrived here as a foreigner in 1991.

I then attempt to register myself and Eloïse on the Amsterdam population register, which opens the next can of worms. My surname is listed in my passport as MAC DONALD (it's common to use a space in Mc and Mac names in official documents), but Eloïse 's birth certificate and passport both give her surname as Macdonald. What? But that's the same name, you say? Not here, it isn't. Those names may as well be Smith and Jones, because as far as the bureaucrats are concerned, they're as different as chalk and cheese.

So, Eloïse and I officially have different surnames under Dutch law and I was cautioned by the woman at the population register that I can expect questions and hassle somewhere down the line when Eloïse goes to school. Bureaucratic hassle? Me? Surely not! Tell me something fucking new.

Even better, because Sarah and I were married abroad (in the US), the Dienst Persoonsgegevens must ask the Immigratie- en Naturalisatiedienst (the Dutch Immigration and Naturalisation Service) for permission to register the marriage in The Netherlands. Even though we had an apostille attached to the document, they apparently still need to do this. I suppose they wouldn't even take it into consideration if it didn't have an apostille.

As a result, my marriage status under Dutch law is ongehuwd (unmarried). I'm single again!

I signed up for a mobile telephone today. A two year contract and KPN 42 subscription bring the cost of a Nokia Communicator 9500 down to €249, a deal that proves irresistible.

What a nice phone! It kicks the arse of my Sony Ericsson P910i, although its e-mail application isn't quite as easy to operate. The two year contract also removes the service sign-up fee and gives me a 50% discount on the first ten months of my subscription.

At least we now have a phone and can start to communicate with the world again. We were feeling very cut off until now, even though it's only been a few days since we arrived. There's already a growing list of people and places we need to call in order to arrange our lives.

16th August

I called the energy company today and signed up for gas and electric to the house. At least we won't get cut off now.

The estate agent also turned up today to do a walkthrough of the house, read the gas and electric meters and note down the inventory. Since we were left with little furniture, the inventory didn't take long. I took advantage of the opportunity to list some urgent complaints. Although I received nods of agreement, I know that nothing concrete will come of it. They've received their commission and that'll be that; not that that'll stop me from trying.

We then walked to the town hall, where I renewed my driving licence. I had tried to do this two years ago, but ran into insurmountable obstacles when it became apparent that I was no longer registered on the Amsterdam population register.

Anyway, this time it worked, and I got to use the photos that I had had taken two years ago for this very purpose, so I look both handsome and youthful on my new document. Believe that and you'll believe anything.

Since I was at the town hall, anyway, I had them produce an uittreksel (proof of residence document) for Eloïse and myself, as this will be needed to support Sarah's application for a residence permit.

My so-called unmarried status now comes back to haunt me, as Eloïse is listed as an illegitimate child (or the slightly better Dutch kind buiten gezinsvorming).

Over at the Postbank, I enquire about opening a bank account for Sarah, but, of course, it's impossible without her being on the population register. She's also missing a social security number, which is apparently a new requirement since 2001, but also something she can't get until she is granted a residence permit.

Attempting to buy a bike turns into a fiasco, as the miserable, sour-faced prick of a shop owner refuses to adjust the rear brake and gears on a second-hand bike that I take for a test-drive. He informs me that the bike is perfectly good as it is and disputes that there is anything wrong with the gears. I suggest that he just examine the bike to make sure, whereupon he informs me that he doesn't care to and sets the bike aside, before giving me the thousand yard stare. I ask him if he's actually interested in selling the bike and he responds in the negative, so I walk out of the shop in disgust.

I'd forgotten how tragically poor Dutch service can be. I mean, this prick is so apathetic, that it doesn't even disturb him to have lost the sale. He'd rather not sell it than go to the slightest trouble for a genuinely interested customer. The bike's frame was the right size, too, so I really would have bought it from him. Ah yes, the entrepreneurial spirit is dead and buried in The Netherlands!

19th August

Joost and Helma pick us up in their boat near the Europarking car park and we head to the river IJ for SAIL 2005. We meet some of their friends and do our first socialising in Amsterdam. It feels good to have a normal experience and what could be more Amsterdams than taking to the city's many waterways and greeting the tall ships as they fare in.

Eloïse gets fussy after just a couple of hours, so we have to leave the others. Joost sets us off by the Haarlemmerdijk and we scale the canal wall to street level.

For the rest of the afternoon, we go baby shopping in the Bosboom Toussaintstraat and the Genestetstraat. We come away with a bouncy chair and a bath tub.

18th August

We went down to the Pijp neighbourhood today to have breakfast at Bagels & Beans, an old haunt. There are now several of these trendy bagel places all over town, but this was the first.

We then went to Baby Anco and bought a plastic insert for the bath tub we bought yesterday, so that Eloïse can sit upright and we no longer have to always keep a hand in contact with her to keep her from sliding under the water. It's strange that baby bath tubs here contain no contouring to keep the baby in place, but there you go; it's another of those little things that you notice when you travel between western countries.

Baby Anco was the shop from where we ordered our Bugaboo Cameleon all those months ago, when we had it shipped to California. I was surprised to discover that the staff still knew my name.

Then, it was over to the UPC shop to sign up for cable television, before we get cut off. I thought the price to be reconnected would be worth avoiding, but it turns out that we have to pay €35 in connection costs even if there's nothing to connect, because nothing has been disconnected. Oh well.

At some point, we'll go out and look for a digital television to replace the piece of shite we have now. Then we can subscribe to digital television and double the number of channels we receive for just €10 extra per month.

Finally, we ended up at the Fietsfabriek (translation: Bike Factory), where I went against my better judgement and bought a new bike (as opposed to a rickety old second-hand one) for use in the city. It was expensive, but it was so nice to take a test ride on, that I was sold. We also discussed options for transporting babies, so we now have a few ideas of what to do when it comes to transporting Eloïse across town. For that, we'll most likely purchase a bakfiets, which is a bike with a large, low-lying trough between the tiny front wheel and the steering.

I still haven't been down to the American Consulate to return my greencard. Both Sarah and I are experiencing some degree of culture shock and difficulty in adjusting to our new surroundings. The crowded streets; the plumes of cigarette smoke every-fucking-where; the total lack of things, people and places familiar to us after the last few years together; the sheer knowledge that this is our life now, that we're not going back and that we really do have to start from scratch again and build something out of nothing.

It's not to be underestimated, although it does perhaps have to be experienced first-hand for one to have any idea what I'm talking about. I think things are probably exacerbated for me by the fact that I have lived here before. It almost feels as if I'm nostalgically trying to recapture something that's no longer here. That's funny, because you'd think the aspect of familiarity would make it easier, but it doesn't.

Maybe I'm just getting old and I've reached the point that I just don't have the energy to build up a new life from scratch the way I have before. I suppose I thought that I would simply be resuming the life I had back at the turn of the millennium, but that's not the case. Too much water has flowed under the bridge since then.

Returning here turns out not to be a hell of a lot different to moving here for the very first time, albeit that I still know how most things work and I can speak the language. In all other ways, the culture feels immediately unfamiliar and will require some time to become reaccustomed to.

On the other hand, the American culture felt quite strange in some ways the entire time I was there, yet comfortably familiar in other ways after a few years spent immersed in it.

I think we just need time. After all, it hasn't even been a whole week yet. I shouldn't try to walk before I can crawl.

19th August

The phone should have been connected today, but there's a problem. An engineer called back in the afternoon to say it should be working now, but no such luck. It'll be some time next week before someone can come out to look at it and hopefully fix it.

20th August

A letter from the KPN arrives, informing us that our ADSL order may take up to four weeks to deliver. It also informs us that we may be too far from the CO, anyway. What?!? We're in the centre of the city.

Jo comes around in the morning with a T-shirt present for Eloïse . I seize the opportunity to bitch and moan about all that has gone wrong so far.

21st August

Jo has invited us over for lunch at her place. We walk across town to her house and take advantage of the ability to use her computer. I post a maudlin blog entry, triggering a telephone pep talk from the in-laws. In fact, I was glad to get it, as it was sorely needed at the time.

22nd August

I finally summon the courage to go down to the American Consulate and hand back my green card. Even getting into the building proves to require some determination.

Once inside, the Consul General herself comes out in person to inform me of the gravity of what I am doing. Wow, this is really it. If I do this, I have no right to live or work in the US any more, a country that was my home from home until just ten days ago.

I hadn't expected it to be this hard, but I find myself experiencing real difficulty in cutting the ties. What if Sarah doesn't like The Netherlands and wants to return home. All kinds of only half-rational nightmare scenarios flash through my mind and I find myself terrified at the prospect of being cut off from my wife and daughter.

Somewhere in my body, I find an optimistic bone and fill in the forms. My green card is confiscated and a rubber stamp is entered into my passport, indicating that form I-407 has been completed and handed in.

No more green card. I'm no longer a US permanent resident and have no rights to live or work there. My old life is now irretrievable without starting over again. Our new life here had better work out now; that's all I can say.

While I'm busy at the Consulate, Sarah signs up for a Dutch course at the Volksuniversiteit. That's the same place where I took many Dutch courses in the early nineties. If the quality hasn't slipped, she'll be gaining fluency in no time.

A KPN engineer calls to tell us he will come out in the morning to look at our phone problem.

23rd August

The KPN engineer arrives and fixes our phone issue. It turns out that the house's exchange was no longer connected behind one of the wood panels near the door. I had no idea there was even anything behind them. Great! We now have a fixed phone.

By this point, I'm desperate for an Internet connection and to be able to print out some documents, so I decide to bike down to Google Benelux at the World Trade Centre. Once there, I introduce myself and explain that I'm on a sabbatical, but I need a place to sit and some connectivity. Everyone is very friendly and nice. Working here could be fun, if I were so inclined.

Getting back on-line is almost a rush. I take care of some paperwork for health insurance and the sale of stock. Because I'm no longer a US permanent resident, I can now claim dual tax status for this year. This means I can now sell my Google stock without incurring US capital gains tax.

Wishing to unburden myself of something that's been on my mind for a year now, I call my broker and have him sell all of my stock. I no longer own a single share of GOOG. That's something else I no longer have to think about.

24th August

It's back to Google, because I didn't get all of my paperwork finished yesterday.

25th August

Our ADSL kit arrives. Hurray! Hurray! We can live an almost normal life again.

We visit our first estate agent, recommended to us by a Dutch banker. He's going to set up some house viewings for us next week.

26th August

Our first house viewings will be next Wednesday. That will be exciting.

We walk over to the buildings of the Volksuniversiteit, where we pay for Sarah's upcoming Dutch course.

The Uitmarkt begins. This is a weekend of free concerts and other cultural events, put on by the various cultural establishments of Amsterdam in an effort to promote the appreciation of and participation in such endeavours. Friday night turns out to have little to offer us. Oh well; there are two more days to go. The events take place on the Museumplein, the Leidseplein and in the Vondelpark.

27th August

Sarah and I start the day by flooding our shower. After that, we head down to the Museumplein to catch a 30 minute concert by Wibi Soerjadi. Damn; that bloke can really get a tune out of a piano.

Afterwards, we get some passport photos made of Sarah's fizzog, which we'll need for all of her official paperwork, which we still haven't submitted. We'll be doing that next week.

Then, we meet up with friends Bonnie and Felix and spend the afternoon chatting away at an Irish pub on the Max Euweplein. Once again, this social occasion goes some way to making us feel at home here in a society that still feels very novel, for all of its pleasant familiarity. Amongst other things, we discuss the many changes in Dutch society over the last few years and contrast Dutch and American life.

Well, unless you count taking Caltrain to San Francisco, that is. That's just a commuter train, though.

Yesterday, Sarah, Eloïse and I took the train to Nijmegen to spend the afternoon with Jules and Linda. Eloïse behaved herself on the way, so we enjoyed the journey, which took about 70 minutes.

At the other end, we were met by Jules, who drove us back to their house where we met their five week old daughter, Bloem, for the first time. She was so tiny, but I suppose that Eloïse must have been about that size a couple of months ago. It's hard to believe now.

The people in Jules' street just happened to be having a neighbourhood party that afternoon. They were setting up when we arrived. The party had a theme: German. Consequently, everyone was dressing up as a German stereotype (e.g. lots of horrific Bavarian costumes) and speaking German to each other.

I'd already been feeling like a foreigner since returning to The Netherlands, but this spectacle really took the biscuit and made me feel as if I had no clothes on. Nijmegen is 5km from the German border. I couldn't help but wonder if, 5km over the border on the German side, a bunch of Germans were dressing up and pretending to be Dutch people. Somehow, I couldn't imagine it.

Anyway, we spent a nice afternoon chatting and, eventually, I started to feel more at home amongst the fake Germans. To be fair, they were very friendly and welcoming, offering us food and drink. The feeling of complete alienation that I experienced is all my issue, not theirs. I must be getting old or something. Am I really becoming less adaptable over time?

In the early evening, we took the train back to Amsterdam, whereupon Eloïse decided that the day had now gone on too long, an opinion she gave ample voice to, screaming at the top of her lungs and sending the entire carriage of passengers diving into their bags in search of sanctuary within the world of their iPod.

The bawling and yelling must have lasted 45 minutes or more, as she started somewhere in the neighbourhood of Ede and didn't stop until the train reached Amsterdam. Sarah and I walked home with Eloïse in the sling, arriving in a state of mental exhaustion. It's very hard to have your baby screaming as if she's being murdered in a crowded space from which you cannot escape. I was surprised at just how much stress this caused me.

Somewhat later than anticipated, we finally handed in the paperwork today for Sarah's application for a residence permit.

We took tram 2 down to the Johan Huizingalaan and first had to combat the ongelooflijke lul on the front desk to obtain a number for the waiting room. I wanted to see someone to ensure that we had completed the application to a satisfactory degree, but this dick told me to simply deposit it in the letter-box downstairs. I told him that I had a question regarding contradictory information, to which he replied that I should not hand in contradictory documentation. That's the kind of smart-arse answer you get from people in these positions of petty power over here.

The strategy here is to force the unwilling, unhelpful uncivil servant down the path of least resistance under penalty of lots of hassle. Since he essentially hates his job and doesn't like to help people, he's also lazy and will do anything to get rid of the people he's supposed to be helping. This usually means fobbing them off with bad information, but if you simply refuse to go away, his strategy fails. Instead, you tell him what you want from him and make it clear you're not going anywhere until your wish has been satisfied. Egregiously lazy, the civil servant will then make the neural connections required to realise that the easiest way to get you out of his face is simply to give you what you want and send you on your way. Consequently, we were given a number and allowed inside.

Why does everything bureaucratic have to feel like running a marathon over hot coals?

My advice to anyone reading this: don't ever move abroad, apply for a passport in a foreign country, have a child in a foreign country, get married in a foreign country, marry a foreigner, or bring a foreign spouse to your country. Unless, of course, you want all the hassle that goes with these things. Few of us ever makes these choices consciously, of course.

Anyway, we finally got to see someone and then handed in Sarah's application, minus the proof of registration of our marriage (since they won't register the marriage without permission from the immigration service, which is pending) and minus the proof of my income. Since I'm not working, I have no income. It's that simple. On the other hand, we have ample funds to live, so I'm hoping this will be taken into account. Hopefully, someone somewhere is more concerned with the intent of the requirement to demonstrate regular income, and less hell-bent on enforcing the letter of the forms. After all, who really cares whether there are regular deposits to your account, just so long as there is plenty of money in it and you won't be a burden on the state?

Well, we'll see where the ship strands, as we say here.

Every time I write an entry here of late, I freak out my mother-in-law, who worries that we're not going to be happy here and have burned all of our bridges back to the US.

For that reason, I thought I should explicitly state some of the positives. Here goes.

Well, first of all, there's the food. It's so nice to be in a country that has bakeries again. Even Vroom & Dreesman has a great bakery these days. Then, there's the supermarket. The local Albert Heijn is a small concern, but it still has boterkoekjes, gangmakers, gevulde koeken, stroopwafels, kwark, vla and other favourites. Plus, let's not forget: bread. Yes, we can once again enjoy the gastronomic delight of tasty bread.

On the other hand, I don't know where you'd go for a decent milkshake or Mexican food. Bollocks; why can't you have everything in this life?

Walking is another advantage of living in Amsterdam. You can pretty much walk anywhere to reach your destination. You don't need a car, you often don't need a bike, and the same applies to public transport. We can just drop Wiesje into the sling, walk somewhere, do our business and leave again. No farting around with getting her in and out of a car seat. Furthermore, the walk is a pleasant one, too, along canals, narrow alleys and beautiful houses. It's a far cry from traversing the car park of the bloody San Antonio shopping centre.

Television is not to be forgotten, either. BBC1 and BBC2 are back on our screens, plus all of the Dutch and Flemish channels. Lots of news background programmes, interesting documentaries, nature programmes, foreign films and what have you. It's only television, but it's a breath of fresh air after American television. If only we could get HBO, Sundance and IFC as well. And let's not forget AT5, with its pleasingly amateur coverage of all things Amsterdam. AT5, how I have missed thee.

Good mobile phone coverage. Yes, it's another minor point, but I don't hit any dead spots with my new Nokia Communicator 9500. On the other hand, there's no flat rate available for Internet access (you pay per Kb instead) and there are virtually no open WLANs in this city to use to grab my mail over 802.11b. It's amazing to me, but virtually all WLANs in this city are at least trivially secured. In Silicon Valley, you can get WLAN access virtually anywhere.

Culture. There's no much going on here. In the last two weeks alone, we've had SAIL 2005 and the Uitmarkt. Those are pretty unusual, but the city is simply teeming with galleries, museums, buildings of historic interest, cinemas, theatres, concert halls, etc. There are plays and concerts every evening of the week at multiple locations. Not much use to us without a babysitter, but there you go.

The relaxed pace of life. I'm not sure this one should be listed just yet. Essentially, it's a positive, but it can also mask apathy, disinterest, lack of motivation, etc. We've run into some of those factors over the last couple of weeks and it has given me a strong reminder of how it was to work in many a Dutch office, where mediocre performance and poor results are good enough and few people are driven to extraordinary achievement. Yes, a little bit of American has creeped into my soul.

Life is a little easier now than it was a week ago. Things still feel strange, but not as strange as they did. Hopefully, this trend will continue and we'll wake up one day and think, 'Hey, I feel completely at home here (again).' That will be a joyous day.

Well, it's not really her bike, but it's for her, as you'll see.

We bought a second bike today, this time a bakfiets, our second purchase from the Fietsfabriek. A bakfiets is a bike with a large trough or box at the front, traditionally for transporting goods, but these days more fashionably for transporting one's children. It feels a bit long and unwieldy to ride, but Eloïse 's car seat can be belted into the trough, allowing us to carry her all over town.

Even if the bike were to jackknife, the idea is that Wiesje would remain snugly secured in her car seat. That's the theory, anyway. Let's hope it never comes to a field test.

Wiesje also had her first visit to the consultatiebureau today. This is roughly equivalent to visiting a paediatrician in the US, but in the same way that healthy pregnant women in The Netherlands see only a midwife and visit an obstetrician only if referred to one in the event of a complication, young babies see only a district nurse (wijkverpleegkundige), visiting a paediatrician only if a problem is found and a referral is issued.

The nurse didn't agree with our decision not to vaccinate Wiesje against the usual suspect diseases, but we were prepared for that. Happily, though, she didn't try to convince us to change our minds.

We had the opportunity to weigh her, which was a welcome event, as she hadn't been weighed for some time. She tipped the scales at 5820g and measured 60cm. Her head circumference is quite large at 41cm. She gets that from me, I'm afraid; I have a bloody big head.

Anyway, the happy conclusion is that she's growing nicely and is close to the 50th percentile for her age, which is interesting, since this measurement is by Dutch standards. In the US, too, she was close to the 50th percentile and people aren't as tall there. Whatever, the main thing is that there's no cause for concern.

We're going back to the consultatiebureau tomorrow, where Wiesje will visit the doctor. I'm not sure what tests will be done, but all will be revealed in about ten hours. The consultatiebureau gave us this lovely little growth book, which is full of handy information and advice about child development. It also has space to note down what happens at each appointment. There are growth charts, dental charts for marking down the new teeth as they arrive, eye tests, etc. I wish we'd been given one of these back in the US.