21 August 2009

And then the pizza was in the freezer

Turn on the oven. Take pizza out of box and out of plastic. Open door, put pizza in, close door. 

18 August 2009

Impa is starting to know this conversation really well

...Are you serious?
- Yeah. 
Have you got a boyfriend you're moving in with over there?
- No, I haven't. Why?
Were you offered a job there? 
- No.
But why are you moving, then?
- Why not? I've lived in Utrecht for 16 years. I want to move on, now. And over there, the air is clean. Less noise. More light. 
More light? 
- Yeah, that's something I feel inside. 
I see.
-Yeah.
Right. 
- Yeah.
(...)
- Its a very cool city. I came from there originally, that undoubtedly has something to do with it. 
But where are you going to live? 
- I'm buying a house there, at the moment. 
And what kind of work are you going to do? 
- What I've been doing for years, now. Working for myself. Making translations, text. Illustrations.  
Yes, ofcourse. 
- Yes.
I say. Thats pretty cool, that you're doing that. 
- Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it. 
And brave, too.
- I think so too, actually. 
Wow.
-Yeah.
Blimey.
- Yeah. 
Well, good luck, then. 
-Thank you. 
We'll miss you.
- Thanks to all of you, too. It's been great.
Wow.  
-Yeah. 
I say.
-Yeah. 

16 August 2009

Impa goes vroom

I was on the back of the bike wearing a helmet and thick leathers. It vibrated through my hands and in between my legs straight into my body. The wind from riding drove the day's heat away and I could imagine how he must be feeling, right in front of me, his hands on the handlebars and his head empty. I waved at sheep, for that is what I do. I saw donkeys and birds of prey. The landscape rolled by and I was slap bang in the middle of it. 

It's hard, strong and hot and yet a motorbike makes your hart light and your head quiet. I looked at the land and in my helmet heard someone sigh happily. 
On the dike along the Waal river I got an icelolly. 

Vroom.

13 August 2009

What Impa wanted to ask Him

Dear God. Moving house is really expensive. I'm glad I just heard the financing for my new house has been approved, so at least that's been taken care of. House hunting itself took quite a lot of time and time is money, as You know, and then I haven't even mentioned the added costs for moving, decorating and furnishing. Not that I'll totally splash out or anything, just wallpaint and curtains and stuff. Not that that's a problem because I'm very good at taking care of myself and I'm really looking forward to it, but I still wanted to ask for something. It's the Iittala Satumetsä mug. I held it in the shop yesterday and it's perfect. I'm totally smitten by it. (If you click on the image you get to see it a little better.) Dear God, I'm glad I asked. I hope it works out. I have to run now, because I have to be at the notary's. Thank you ever so much, Impa.

12 August 2009

Impa says goodbye (1)

How do you say goodbye to a city? Maybe by realising that you don't choose your local pub but that one day it suddenly earns the lable because of all the time you've been spending there all those years. By being aware that every street, every corner, every park and every tree houses a memory. By knowing which spots can hardly be replaced. By remembering well what living there was like.

Someone said they felt anonymous among people, but recognised by the city. 'I know these streets and they know me. I'm allowed to walk them.' 

But I'm not saying goodbye, really. I gratefully leave those 16 years in Utrecht for what they are. Me leaving to breathe, eat, live, sleep, work and love somewhere else doesn't change anything about the city or my time here and all the memories attached. For even if I'd stay, that past would remain unchanged. And the city itself will still be at hand. Arms remain spread for me here and beds made. 

If I'll actually miss the city remains to be seen. That I love it is a fact. 
It was good.

Splendid.

9 August 2009

Impa drives her sweetheart to the horizon

... and he takes pictures that she loves.

7 August 2009

Impa tweaks lying down

Three glorious, long, sunny, slow, contented days. That's how long this year's summer holiday lasted. Last year, I adopted the holy resolution-and-mending-of-my-ways not to abstain from the sweet balm to the soul of Vlieland for more than three months in a row, which turned out to be a good combination with this year's Glorious Three-day Holiday. 

It was rather crowded on Vlieland, but you can't blame all those other people. It's a comforting thought that at least in October or February I have the Wadden Sea wind all to myself. And crowded though it was, it was also blue, blue, blue, with a daily plunge into the North Sea. Sea gulls turn out to be able to coo, jellyfish swarm. The bottles of beer were cool. We had mussel meals. A packet of holiday cigarettes. A picknick at sunset. There were Vlieland friends. A brisk bit of cycling. Live music. 

But most of all: lying down. I've really tweaked the art of lying down on Vlieland this time. I haven't reached pure perfection yet, but I'll just keep coming back to practice. For the time being, especially lying on air beds came along by leaps and bounds. Lying on the grass, on the beach and in the dunes have improved considerably too, but lying in tents especially is much to my satisfaction.

I took my new love on my Glorious Three-day Holiday and can proudly assure you that he passed  the test. He loves vlieland, it loves him and he's welcome back.  

So we can work on lying in tents some more.