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.