In the movies.

Very excited about this -- the website for a short film I shot a few weeks ago!

www.tmdfilms.com/the8thinning

Check it out for production stills and behind-the-scenes photos. They'll have a trailer up there soon, too. The film itself should premiere in January or February if all goes well.

If you have time, check out the websites for the other four films in Twelve Monkeys Dancing Films' Monkey Tales Project. I'm excited to see them all.

Moving as a hobby.

The sublet on my delightful and large Constitution Ave. apartment was up on the last day of May. I started looking for a new home in March and was down to the wire two weeks before I had to move.

There's a long story involved here, and it's boring to me nowadays, so suffice it to say that there was a place I wanted to move and I found out I could move in there three days before I had to be out of my first Fort Collins home.

I moved in on a Saturday. Another long story short, I moved out on Sunday amidst a lot of crying on my part. Seriously. I was a pansy.

But you would have been, too. It was not pretty. But it's done. And I have my new little (temporary) home close to work, very cheap, one roommate, one giant pile of stuff in the middle of my bedroom floor. My stuff, mind you. But I have no where to put it at the moment.

And it's making me restless. I'm already packed. Maybe I should just....move?

Action.

The life has been non-stop. Which is non-stop good.

Since January?

Worked.

Started teaching my own yoga and athletic training classes at The Gym. Still teaching at The Other Gym.

Painted for two shows at local theatres and was asked to charge their latest (I turned it down due to time constraints).

Several auditions in Denver which led to several acting gigs, some paid, some not. For the next two weekends you'll find me in the Mile High City shooting a student film about a female assassin (that's me). The weekend after that we're shooting a promotional segment for a horror film, which you'll be able to watch on youtube. This summer I'll play a chica named Melanie in a short film. I. Am. Excited.

Played some tennis.

Took some salsa dancing lessons.

Modeled for an uber-talented photographer in Greeley.

Joined a volleyball league (1-1 so far).

Went skiing. (I'm not even kidding.)

Right now, I'm attempting to find a new place to live (my sublet is up on May 31) and balancing all the crazy fun stuff without doing too much damage to my paychecks (the downside of the flexible schedule) and without neglecting my new friends.

Summer's comin'. I don't know what that means.

They threatened me with benefits.

My job at The Gym, as we'll call it (as opposed to my job at The Other Gym), has expanded greatly. I got on board as a fitness and yoga instructor -- actually, not even that. A fitness and yoga SUB until the expansion got done, when I was to get my own classes. I bullied my way into working with the kids program. Then I was subbing in the gallery (the BAR) and before long I had my own gallery shift. I started doing weight room orientations this week. Rumors started to fly that the owner wanted to get me on full time.

That chance came a few days ago.

The XRKade opened last week. For those who don't know, the XRKade is FANTASTIC. It's the first of its kind in Colorado, and one of the first 20 in the country. It's interactive video games: Playstation racing and snowboarding -- but you have to pedal the bike to make your car go faster, or shift your weight right and left on a board to make your snowboarding self navigate down the hills. There are also Dance Dance Revolution pads and other neat-o games designed to get kids and adults alike MOVING. I think it's brilliance, and the club members love it.

Well, the fitness director has been running it, but he has his hands full with so much stuff that the XRKade has not been living up to its potential, which is huge. They needed someone to be in charge of the XRKade programming.

And that someone is now me. XRKade Director. Folks, I'm the head of my own department. I have a staff. I could have opted for a salary instead of an hourly wage (but did not). And the biggie: I SET MY OWN SCHEDULE. Plus, I still get to teach yoga classes, which will be starting in another month or so.

There's much work to be done. It would have been one thing to be running it from the beginning, but player habits have already formed, a standard has already been set, so now I have to go about undoing all of that. But it should keep me busy for a while. Very exciting.

This looks to me suspiciously like normal life. I'm skeptical. But I did make it well-known that my demands include extended periods of unpaid leave.

The Highlights

Despite my come-and-go resistance to being here, there are a lot of good things happening.

1. Work. I love teaching at both gyms, and they so love me back at the one place that they work really hard to get me hours working with the kids, pouring beer (BEER! AT THE GYM!), and showing people around the weight room. I might even piece together a 40-hour work week.

2. Painting. There are some lovely little theatres here, and I'm volunteering at one right now. The guy I work with is super-talented, and he's got a couple of projects on the line that he has asked me to help him with. Yes, please.

3. Acting? What the hell. I found a guy who did new headshots for me for free, since he's building his portfolio. I've got an audition in Denver on the 26th. I love it because nothing's riding on it. No part? I'm no worse off than I am right now. Part? BONUS LAND!

4. Good people. They're all over the place, and I'm lucky enough to call some of them my almost-friends.

5. Hair. I had it dyed darker. Love it.

Notes on traffic.

1. People drive really fast.

2. There are more speedbumps than Starbucks, which is really saying something. In explanation, I can only say, "see #1."

3. The roads are pretty crappy, I25 included. Cracks, bumps, you name it.

4. The lights are loooooong. The first light I get to on my way to either workplace is obscenely long, and I'm consistantly the only car I can see from horizon to horizon.

5. Canada geese. Everywhere. It is not in your best interest to hit them.

The Coloradoan Life

So far, so good. So little. Moved in Tuesday. Went grocery shopping Wednesday. Yesterday....not really sure. And in between there have been a lot of phone calls and emails trying to get someone to fix the light above our sink and figure out how to go about teaching private yoga lessons and put together the painting portfolio I should have been putting together all along.

This is where I am. And that is okay. For now. I know myself well enough to know that some part of me must want to be here, otherwise I just wouldn't be. And some part of me must not want to be in South America right now, or else you could visit Santiago for the new year.

I do, however, need to find another job. You just can't teach enough hours of fitness in a day to make it work. At least until the private yoga lessons get going, but who knows how that will go.

I'm thinking of a Christmas party. Busy next Friday?

Making a move.

After two years of non-stop excitement on the ever-hot adventure trail, I'm moving to Fort Collins, CO.

Looking back over the last couple of weeks, I'm not really sure how this came about. The notion popped up nearly a year ago, and I beat it down with other, cooler notions of South America and cruise ships. But it persisted, despite my annoyance with it.

And somehow, here I am. I visited earlier this week (my first real trip to the place) and came away with two jobs. Everyone who speaks of Fort Collins does so fondly. I'm calling it temporary for now -- I'm subletting an apartment until the end of May. If I like being in one spot and having access to my entire closet all the time, I might stay. But the world is so big and beautiful -- seems a shame to settle in one corner already.

I'm a little moody about it right now. We'll talk later.

The Long-Awaited Organized Thoughts

It's hard to talk about India without getting into a discussion that lasts for hours, maybe days. It's most interesting when there is direct feedback from other people. So I don't know how writing about it will go.

There are two things: India and yoga. So, India. I didn't get to see much of the country, but what I can tell you is that it took 9 hours to drive a couple hundred kilometers from Delhi to Rishikesh. Traffic is wild and includes cars, trucks, buses, tractors, motorcycles, bicycles, horse-drawn wagons, pedestrians, and cows. If you blow your nose in Delhi, you will turn the kleenex black. The people near Rishikesh were happy and friendly. The kids loved to have their picture taken and loved to ask you for chocolate.

Rishikesh is a yogic community, so there is a lot going on that deals with that and spirituality.

Which leads us to "So, yoga."

There is so much to yoga that the average westerner doesn't realize. And we covered the beginnings of much of that. There's still so far to go, of course, but it's a start. I could talk your ear off about the yamas and niyamas, metta meditation, chakras and energy, ayurveda and the constitutions, and of course reincarnation -- but at best, you might get confused and at worst, you might get angry. Sometime, when we're hanging out over a bottle of wine (except not wine, because that's not a yogic thing to do to your body), I'll get into these things and more. For now, here are some pretty pictures, in no particular order:


With my teacher after the graduation ceremony.


Natarajasana.

At breakfast after the naming ceremony with Naomi and Jessica -- er, Mukta and Ujaisa.

During the naming ceremony where we were given our spiritual names.

The Ganges.

My first attempt at jal neti, a cleansing technique.

Getting on the bus in Haridwar.

Making wishes and sending them afloat on the Ganga.

On graduation day with some fellow classmates, Amy and Marta.

Monkey! Danger!

Explains itself, huh?

Shiva statue at the arti.

Tuk-tuk (a taxi -- they pack them with people). We had to get out of it so it could make it up the hill.

Waterfall.

Locals near our ashram.

Om, India.

I'm back in my country again, after an eight-hour car ride, a six-hour wait in the airport, and a 15-hour flight.

There is so much to share. A book's worth, at least. And my thoughts aren't yet organized enough for that.

So for now, the basics: I completed the yoga course, so I'm a certified yoga teacher. I learned so much, perhaps more than I even expected to learn. I'm eager to put this to work.

India is quite a time. I enjoyed it, and would like to return at some point to see more of the country and eat more of the food.

Off and running....to India.

On Saturday, my darlings Adam and Regina go married, one year to the day after getting engaged. If ever two should be one, it is them.

By noon tomorrow I'll be on my way to Chicago. From there it's a mere 14-hour direct flight to Delhi. Half-way around the world. Off I go. Tomorrow. Noon.

Then you won't hear much from me until November 12. I'll be immersed in the world of the yogi for 5.5 days per week, and hopefully doing something other than swimming in the Ganges during the other 1.5 days.

Wish me luck.

Mail Call

It has arrived. After three tense weeks of wondering (and two days of not being able to get a person on the phone at the consulate) my visa to INDIA has landed safely in my mailbox.

On October 9, I will take a 14-hour flight to Indira Gandhi International Airport to begin my month of studying yoga in India.

These last weeks have been busy with preparations. I've done the required reading. I'm immune to a handful of diseases, some I'd never even heard of before they injected me with them. I have a prescription to prevent malaria and bottles of high-powered insect repellant. Ready? Not even close. But I'm working on it.

Working Girl

To eat the time between now and take-off (October 9, remember), I took a job at the Hotel Alex Johnson as -- get this -- a bellboy. Er, bellperson? Bellgirl? Bellhop is what they usually come out with, but my time log says, "bellperson," which I think is really funny.

It's quite a time. I enjoy it for the most part -- lots of people to see, lots of luggage to haul, lots of brass to polish. The guests seem to enjoy my presence, as well, as it is unusual to meet a female bellhop. "Do you lift weights?" "Don't hurt yourself." "Did you grow up on a farm?" "Will you come wash my windows?"

I also get to do the valet parking, which has led to numerous quietly experienced adventures that I will keep to myself. I consider it an opportunity to test drive a lot of vehicles. My favorites thus far?

1. Lexus
2. Kia Spectra
3. XTerra
4. Highlander
5. Hummer

Just kidding on number 5. I drove one today, but we can't call that a favorite. I couldn't see a thing -- I probably ran over half the city just driving it down the block.

As for the quickly approaching October 9? I'm still waiting to get the visa. I'll keep you posted.

A Tourist in my Homeland, and Rumblings of the Future

Bas and Rik left last Saturday after a fun-filled week of horseback riding, mountain carvings, museums, a rodeo, hiking, and every traditional mid-western food I could think of.

Ruud stayed on, and will be here until Tuesday. We've kept busy near and far with Devils Tower, Storybook Island, Reptile Gardens, and more hiking.

Unfortunately, I don't think I've been the easiest person to live with these past few weeks. I was rather grumpy, because of all the things I could think to do with the next few months, none of them were striking me as THE thing. I was restless.

But then. One day. It came to me. And now, two days later, I've put the wheels in motion. It'll only keep me busy for about a month or so, and there are a few things that have to come through before it's a definite, but it's looking good. I'll tell you more as things come together. For now, just know that by October 9, I'll be out of the country.

The "where I'm from" home.

I got back to the Hills region after a delightful week-long journey that started in Las Vegas.

I rode to Vegas with my roommate Diana and stayed at her house for a night while I waited for the Dutch boys to catch up. They got there the next day, and we stayed at the Circus Circus until I caught a flight to Denver and they began their drive through Bryce, Zion, and the Grand Canyon.

So these days have been tourist days. Mt. Rushmore, Crazy Horse, the winery. A day at the ranch -- shooting, riding, roping. Mammoth Site, Evans Plunge, Custer State Park, the Playhouse. Hiking Harney Peak. Shopping at WalMart. You know. Everything a foreigner should experience.

And we've had some fun. Bas and Rik are leaving already on Saturday; Ruud will be here another week.

And then? Your guess is as good as mine. I have been browsing some job listings in Bahrain, Singapore, Chile, and Fort Collins.

One DAY?

There have been some good moments these last few weeks.

I taught a class last week we call Cardio Queens. It involves a lot of drills, running, stadium stairs -- intense, not for pansies. One day, I led them in ins and outs (jog one minute, pace 45 seconds, sprint 15 seconds) for 15 minutes. I had two girls complete the entire thing running. "Great job!" I said. "We covered about a mile and a half."

"What?" one said. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"I haven't run a mile in four years."

Not only that, we did another 15-minute running workout, which she completed without stopping. She went on to run -- RUN -- the 5K that weekend...in under 30 minutes.

She came up to me the day afterward. "It's because of class! I didn't know I could push myself that hard."

I LOVE this job.

And I leave it after tomorrow.

One week? One week!

I'm approaching the beginning of my last week at work. After a killer workout schedule this week (1: Strength training. 2: Kickboxing MWF, sprints on the track THS. 3: Free, but they have indoor volleyball this week, so I've been playing along and spiking like a champ. 4: Glutes and abs -- meaning lots of stadium stairs. Add in a late night after a trip to Pageant of the Masters on Wednesday, and...), I'm dragging like you wouldn't believe. Next week, however, my final week, I'm teaching pilates, yoga, and glutes and abs. So hopefully, after having this Sunday off, I'll be able to recover.

Last Saturday I made my very own yoga DVD -- the perfect combination of my two favorite things. Today we took pictures for the cover. It will be sent out to camp participants throughout the year.

And last Sunday, I journeyed back up to Santa Monica with Aunt Cathy for one more visit with Aunt Dolores. We made tentative birthday plans, in case I can swing a trip out here in November.

Tonight I'm hitting the baseball game with Uncle Omar and Aunt Cathy. Will Bonds break Hank Aaron's record tonight? Stay tuned.

My beautiful friend Anja (you might remember Anja because I stayed at her apartment in Slovenia last January) is here in San Diego! HERE IN SAN DIEGO! I can't wait to see her. Hopefully this weekend.

Also this weekend, I'm hoping to catch up with my two lovely LA friends before I leave this part of the country.

Or will I? It has been suggested that I leave my resume with the head honchos in case an office job for the camp opens up this fall. Um.

This small world.

Yes, I'm the only counselor here from South Dakota, but there is a camper from Sioux Falls.

There is also a woman here who is originally from the Netherlands, but she spent six years living in Rapid City before she moved to wherever she is now...I can't remember where that is.

But better than that. There are two women here from Australia. They were placed in the same room, and when the second one
walked in, she said, "Dani?" And Dani said, "Michelle?" Yep, they went to elementary school together, though Dani was three grades above Michelle. They had lost touch with each other by high school and now, some 15 years later, had no idea they were both going to the same camp for the summer.

And the latest, I got a new girl in this week, also from Australia though she has been living in California for the last couple of years. She sat down at the table and another counselor introduced her to her fellow Australians. Dani said, "You went to (such and such a college, I can't remember), didn't you? I remember your face."

So, the Australians are feeling very much at home. And so am I, for that matter. This job is FANTASTIC.

A Day at the Races

You know I'm not much of a gambling kinda girl. At least not with money. My life, sometimes. But those are different stories.

But yesterday I went to the racetrack with Uncle Omar and had a blast. I was looking forward to it from the get-go, thinking it was something I've never done and it would be a nice, new, probably one-time experience. But I would go again. And again And the fact that I came out of it $0.20 ahead of the game? Well, that's just a bonus.

We also went to the baseball game, where the Phillies wiped the field with the Padres -- and we left before it was over.

Big week coming up. Yoga on the beach on Tuesday, more tennis on Wednesday, on duty in the office Thursday AND Friday -- and my dear friend Ryan coming for a visit on Saturday, followed by a trip to Santa Monica on Sunday to see Aunt Dolores. More on all of that after the fact.

Even the backhand.

Last night I attended the Nike tennis clinic, where I actually learned how to swing a racket. (Which, I've just learned, can be spelled that way, as well as "racquet," which is how I would normally spell it.) I ended up losing the championship round, even though by that time my partner had left and I had joined up with the professional, Herman, a delightful (read: gorgeous) young man from somewhere in Africa.

But it doesn't matter. I'm finally on my tennis way. People with rackets, watch out, because if you play with me, you're probably still going to end up chasing the ball for a while.

Breathing space.

Last night, my director took me and two other yoga instructors to her yoga class on the beach in Coronado.

I don't know where to start.

This was....phenomenal. Melissa, the instructor, was an outstanding teacher, possibly the best I've ever had. There were about 10 of us, men and women, holding poses on beach towels, staring out into the ocean. As we completed our dolphin pose, the real dolphins started hopping in and out of the water, quite close to the shore.

Halfway through the class, as the clouds rolled in, we took the practice into the water and held our tree poses as the waves crashed against our knees.

There are definite challenges to yoga on the sand. Balancing goes to a whole new level. I probably wouldn't recommend it for beginners. Luckily I was wearing sunglasses, or I would have ended up kicking all kinds of sand into my eyes. It's also a little hard on the wrists, as the heel of your hand tends to sink into the sand.

But that's all minor. The class lasted an hour and a half, but I had no sense of the time. It was over before I knew it; all I could think was that I wished she would keep teaching well into the night.

Amazing. I was overwhelmed. Yoga on the beach is certainly among the top ten experiences of my life.

Happy Holiday

I had a delightful Sunday off in which Aunt Cathy picked me up, drove me to her home, and we decided to go Bodies: The Exhibition, which is actually at the mall three miles from where I live. So we drove back and did it.

Amazing. Truly fascinating. If you don't know what Bodies: The Exhibition is, it's actual human remains carefully preserved. There are entire bodies. There are parts of bodies. There are displays that focus on the muscles, others that focus on bones. There are diseased organs and healthy organs. It's amazing. If it next travels to a city near you, don't miss it.

We also stopped by the beach to see the seals. I got splashed when a big wave hit the rocks, so I spent half the morning wet and smelling like seal water.

I had yesterday off, as well. The group went on a field trip to Sea World, and I would have gone, too, except

A) it was my day off and I felt I should do something very much mine.
B) I figured the park would be wildly crowded on July 4.
C) I was still drying out after Sunday's visit with the seals.

So I went shopping with my roommate and bought $15 jeans and a new skirt. Days like that are nice.

"Work"

One full week and we're kicking. I'm going to bed at 9:00 every night because I'm all in. We get up around 5:45 to walk on the beach and watch the surfers. Rough, I know.

It's Saturday, so we only have morning classes, and the afternoon is more or less our own. Tomorrow is my day off. Not sure what that'll bring.

Every now and again I think about what I might like to do after this gig is up. There are many, many options floating around my head. If you have exciting ideas to add to the mix, I'd love to hear about them.

The Other SD

The only reason not to live in San Diego is the high cost of housing. I'm not sure if it will ever make sense to me to pay $1500 a month for a little box when that kind of money could rent me a palace in the midwest. It wouldn't have cost much more than that for me to share the three-bedroom basement apartment that I loved for a year. Of course, the Vermillion beaches and the restaurant scene/nightlife were neither quite as nice as those here.

I've been here a week and a half now, and have had a great time. The first few days were spent with my aunt and uncle. Aunt Cathy and I drove up to see Aunt Delores in Santa Monica. We ate lunch at the Bel Air Hotel, did a quick drive-by of UCLA (beautiful campus), and spent about six hours looking for the Hollywood sign, which we finally found. I dozed off in the backseat as Aunt Cathy said, "Eight miles on the highway and we should see it." I woke up at a gas station across from the Warner Brothers studio to the sound of Aunt Delores saying, "Burbank? We're in BURBANK?" Lots of driving. A wonderful, wonderful day. I'm so happy to have met my Aunt Delores. What a fantastic lady.

I can't say much about work, because I signed an internet agreement saying I wouldn't. But you should know it's lovely thus far. I've been in training for a week; our campers come tomorrow. I'm very excited. I anticipate this to be rewarding beyond measure.

Some of the here, some of the now.

I've been stateside for three months now. Updates?

The play. I had the privilege of acting alongside some of my dear friends in Noel Coward's Hay Fever.

The wedding. My baby brother married Avery on May 19.

The chillin'. I loved hanging out with my Vermillion buddies. Then I got home, organized my room and spent some time in the Hills, hiking and biking and whatnot.

The job. It starts June 18. I'm going to be a fitness instructor at a camp in CA. I am excited, indeed.

Adjustment.

I feel a little silly. Back here. I'm here, and everything was as it was when I left -- it feels like I didn't leave at all. And if it weren't for the physical proof -- the museum ticket stubs, the train schedules, the pictures -- I would have a hard time believing I was actually there.

So now. Do I keep writing this thing or not? It seems that interest has waned, and no wonder -- things are bound to be less exciting now that I'm holed up in snowy Vermillion.

But I'm determined to pick them up again soon. I'm not sure where I'll be going or what I'll be doing in the next few months, but it'll be something fun and maybe even something worth reading about. I'll debate awhile, and probably either keep blogging here, or I'll start a new one. Unless you, reader, are totally disinterested. Then there's not much point.

Where the deer and the antelope play.

After 13 hours in planes and about 10 more hours waiting for planes, I made it back to Rapid City.

I could launch into how weird this feels, but I'll spare you for now, at least until I get my thoughts organized.

On Saturday evening, I cried my way to Tilburg after saying good bye to the family. Ruud and I went out with a bunch of his friends -- because it was Carnaval! I'll get some pictures up in a few days. We had a great time, and rolled home around 3:30 -- pretty early, by Carnaval standards.

On Sunday we went to the parade. It started at 1:00, but it didn't get to our spot on the street until almost 3:00. It was over around 5:00, but the party on the street was just gearing up. There were so many people, young and old alike, drinking and having a great time. There was a DJ right across the street from us, so even though we were outside, we had to yell to be heard during conversations.

On Monday I repacked, trying to guess how heavy my suitcases were. I ended up leaving a lot of stuff behind for Ruud to bring when he visits this summer.

On Tuesday we woke up at 5:30 and drove to the airport in Brussels so Ruud could get back in time for work. And I was off.

And here I am. In America. Weird.

I suppose in the end the thing that makes one like a place is one's affection for the people one knows there.

On Saturday, I said good-bye to my family.

We had a party for me. It was small but perfect -- all the right people where there: Oma and Opa, Cees and Martine and Ties, Rens and Eefje, Lieke, Ruud, Bas, Rik, Willem, and Stefan, Carley (who is back visiting for Carnaval) and of course the kids. Notable absences were Harrie and Toos, who had already left for their vacation, and Lieke's Willem, who was playing in a tennis tournament.

We talked, ate Chinese, indulged in the chocolate fountain. Ed was my first good-bye. Easy enough, because he doesn't know what's going on.

Kate was a toughie. My little Kate, my sweet bear, mijn beste meisje, especially during these last few weeks. She suddenly got really tired, started crying and screaming, and wanted little to do with me at the time -- she was just begging to go to bed. She refused to hug me, even. Tragic. So after Carien put her in bed, I hurried up there, hoping to still catch her awake.

I've spent the last few weeks talking about my leaving, knowing that it would be a difficult concept for her to grasp and remember. But everytime I talked about it, she got quiet and sad, then asked if I was taking a vliegtuig to Amerika.

She was still awake when I got up there, so I went in and sat on her bed. She was still recovering from her crying fit. I told her I just wanted to say good-bye, because I was leaving that night and wouldn't get to see her again for a long time. She started crying and trying to scramble out of bed. "Ik ook mee!" she kept saying: "I'll go, too."

I paused to compose myself before rejoining the party.

Then it was Pete and Carl. I went to read them a story. There was a small fight, which I won't get into, but it resulted in Carl going to his bed and me reading a story only to Pete. He paused me halfway through:

"Are you going to cry when you get home?"

"Ja, schat, I'm pretty sure I will," I said. "I'm going to miss you."

Then, so quiet, so sincere and vulnerable and perfect, he said, "I'm going to miss you, too." And he started crying.

I held him a while, said I'd come back to visit, but it just wasn't enough. So I told him I'd call him next Saturday when they get home from their ski vacation, and I'll ask for him and pretend to be one of his girlfriends from school. That made him laugh. He told me I had to do it in Dutch.

Carl came over, wanting to be read to after all. We finished the book. I tucked Pete in, then went to Carl's room where he was curled up on the bed. He ignored me when I spoke and kept covering his head -- typical for when he's upset. I told him I'd miss him. He didn't say anything. I told him if he ever wanted to send me a message, to just tell the constellations and they would bring it to me the next night. I suggested going through Orion. He spun around immediately.

"Does that work real?"

"We'll have to try it."

Good night. Good-bye.

Then it was good-bye to Rick and Carien -- my bosses, my co-workers, my friends. So many thank yous. So many tears.

As Ruud drove me away, I looked back to the big window where I had sat with the kids many times, teaching Ed how to wave good-bye to whomever was driving away to work -- and there were Rick and Carien, waving good-bye to me.

I couldn't stop crying.

13 Months of Details

THE TRAVELS

Number of countries visited: 15

Longest train ride: 13 hours (Utrecht to Warsaw)

Longest wait in a train station: 7 hours (Warsaw)

Most expensive flight: $751 (Amsterdam to Omaha, NE)

Least expensive flight: 6,00 euros -- 20,00 euros after tax (Glasgow to Amsterdam)

Favorite cities: Zagreb, Dublin, London, Innsbruck

Favorite paintings: The Lion Hunt, Peter Paul Rubens (National Gallery, London), The Execution of Lady Jane Grey, Paul Delaroche (National Gallery, London), For the Road, Jack Yeats (National Gallery, Dublin), La Chasse aux Lions, Eugene Delacroix (Musee d'Orsay, Paris), Origin of the Milky Way, Jacopo Tintoretto (National Gallery, London)

Favorite museums: Torture Museum (Prague), National Gallery (London and Dublin), MUMOK (Vienna)

Favorite chocolate museum: Barcelona

Favorite purchases: photo album (Krakow), boots ('s-Hertogenbosch)

Best vantage points: Artist's Sit (Edinburgh), Alps (Innsbruck)

Best scenery: Alps (Innsbruck), train ride from Budapest to Zagreb

Favorite books read: Lamb, Angela's Ashes, Made in America

Favorite new food: fuejoada

Least favorite new food: pig face

Best eating experience: Poland

Favorite nightlife experience: live reggae and dancing (Dublin)

Best theatrical productions: Phantom of the Opera (London), The Cut (London), Night of the Iguana (London)

Most meaningful experience: Auschwitz

Best castle: Edinburgh

Favorite shopping experience: Great Market (Budapest)

Number of strangers proposing marriage: 7

Number of new shoes (in pairs, flip flips included): 8

Number of visitors from the USA: 6 (Drew, Jack, Joel, Shauna, Megan, Rick's Mom)

Number of strangers' homes I stayed in: 12

Number of times I walked home from Den Bosch instead of waiting for the bus: 9

Second stupidest moment: First of all, there are two kinds of stupid. There's poor judgment stupid, which we're not going to get into. And there's embarrassing stupid. The top embarrassing stupid moment we're also not going to get into. So, the second stupidest moment is when I got fined on the train. It was a short ride from Tilburg to Den Bosch -- about 15 minutes. I had gotten up early, right after Ruud left for work, and was in a hurry to get home and start my day. I wanted to limit the time I would have to wait for the bus, so knowing buses leave around 25 minutes after the hour, I wanted to take a train that would get me there just before then. My best option was the one leaving at quarter till 9:00. I rushed out the door, hurried and bought my ticket, and hopped onboard. I have a discount card, which gives me 40% off the price of domestic tickets....except before 9:00 am. I was in a hurry. So I wasn't thinking about the time in terms of what hour it was, just how many minutes before that hour it was. Sometimes the ticket guys don't check. Today they did. He was in our car minutes after departure. At that point I still hadn't realized I had done anything incorrectly. I handed him my ticket. He said something in Dutch, which I didn't understand, and told him as much. He pointed to the time, and said it's too early. I about fell over. After buying the normally priced ticket (4,20 or something) and paying the fine (35,00), my 2,00-euro, 15 minute trip cost me a total of more than 40,00. The train was stopping in Den Bosch just as the ticket man was giving me my change.

Worst idea: We'd better not get into that, either.

Favorite moments: There are dozens, hundreds, but here are a few. The backyard barbecue in Segovia, fuejoada night in Edinburgh, first day alone in London, wine drinking with Carien in Kirchheim, lip sync contest with the whole family in Kirchheim, the drive to Paris, climbing trees in Hoge Veluwe, Sinterklaas, dancing to reggae in Dublin, Auschwitz, poker with Marcin and Patrick in Warsaw, the cow hunt in Lisbon, dancing in Barcelona, the first time I recognized a painting by Rubens without seeing his name, talking with Kruno and Neven till 5:30 am...




THE KIDS

Scariest moments: Pete falling from the tree, Ed falling from his high chair

Angriest moment: Pete spitting at me

Number of times I considered taking the next flight home: 3 (pretty good, considering I was here for 13 months)

Biggest boo-boo: shrinking Carien's clothes in the dryer

Best moments: kids waking me up on my birthday and before they left for California, Carl winning his bike race, the treasure hunt, Christmas Eve, Kate going through a phase where she would run to meet me every time I came up the driveway after a walk or run, Kate begging me to do yoga with her, Ed falling asleep on my chest, long conversations with the older boys about constellations, natural disasters, and cows, the millions of funny things they say, all the rare nights when the boys did as they were told and we had fun getting ready for bed, reading to them, giving them presents...

Number of diapers changed: approximately 4.2 million

Paris!

Our trip to Paris was a success. There was plenty of food and walking. We even managed to shop for an entire day. And Ruud liked it. He really did. He bought a tie and some socks.

Since we have both been to the top of the Eiffel Tower, we opted instead to go to the top of the Arc d'Triomphe, from which the world looks like this:

We also happened to witness a proposal. We went to the Louvre, of course (Mona is looking as lovely as ever) and the Musee d'Orsay, which houses a magnificent collection of works by French artists.
On Monday we left early and stopped in Gent, Belgium for a few hours. We wanted waffles, which were actually sort of hard to come by at this time of year. We wandered until we found the castle near the hostel where I stayed when I was in Gent eight years ago. I have now re-visited all the cities I saw on my first trip to Europe. And just in time.

Drinking and other habits.

My European lifestyle helped me to adopt the following habits, for better or worse.

* Wine.

* Tea.

* Coffee (well, good cappuccino or coffee with milk at a ratio of 1:5, but we're working on it).

My liquid intake is still largely made up of water, but it now also includes those things, which I rarely (and in coffee's case, practically never) included at home. But now probably will.

In addition:

* Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day at lunch. It was born out of necessity, as my other option was meat and cheese every day at lunch, and that I definitely don't like. I've always liked PB&J. I still do. I just don't really want to eat another one for a long, long time.

* Television. Throughout my life, I haven't watched very much. At home before I left, my only real television craving was Reno 911! and the occasional Will & Grace. Indeed, the first two weeks I got here I didn't even turn on the television in my room -- it just never occurred to me to do so. Then, one night, lying there sick and bored out of my mind, I thought, "Ah, television, it will help me learn Dutch." So I turned it on, and found that it was made of approximately 90% English shows. But I kept at it, and gradually grew to love Grey's Anatomy, Law and Order, CSI: New York, America's Next Top Model, and any movie of the week they want to offer up. Luckily, as an actor and continual student of theatre, I get to call such habits "research." I still feel somewhat guilty, though, because it wastes a lot of time. This is one habit that's going to go. Except for maybe Grey's Anatomy.

* Boring workouts. I don't even know how that happened. I just want a gym, for heaven sake. And that I will have, so very soon, and my workouts will be boring no longer.

* Nice dinners. I used to more or less hate restaurants, because I hated to spend a great deal of money on food that was usually just so-so. I would always order soup. I liked it, and it was cheap. Not anymore. I'm really starting to appreciate good food. I admire stylish presentation. I delight in lingering at the table for as long as we want, without having to worry about the waiter trying to rush us out. I also delight in cooking nice dinners. After making pasta about 200 times for picky kids, it feels good to make something that includes actual spices and doesn't involve a noodle.

* Staying in. It's not unusual for a friend to have to talk me into getting out of my pajamas and joining them at the bar, but I would usually do it. Of course, the bar was in walking distance, or I could drive myself if I wasn't planning to drink. Here, if I'm not in Tilburg with Ruud, the bar is several miles away, and the trip home almost always involved a taxi. Plus, we never even went out until 11:00 pm or so. By then, if I'm not going out, I'm in bed. So I grew accustomed to going to bed early, even more so than I used to. Friends, help me.

* Flossing. I'm not sure where that one came from, as I've been anti-floss (it totally disgusts me) for as long as I can remember. But one evening, about two weeks ago, I pulled a strand from the little container and began what I can only call a flossing habit. My dentist will be so proud.

Do you speak English?

In the past year, I have put that sentence into use in the following ways:

Spreekt u engels?

Sprechen sie Englisch?

Czy pan mowi po angielsku?

Govorite li engleski?

Habla ingles?

Fala ingles?

Mlutite anglicky?

Parlez-vous anglais?

Beszel angolul?

Ali govorite angleshko?

These feelings are normal.

The other day I hauled my sheets into the house to wash them. I usually do laundry when I'm home alone and the older kids are at school, so it's entirely possible that Pete has never seen this happen. But the other day, they were all home, and he watched me lug them in.

"Did you pee your bed?" he asked.

For the record, "No."

"Then why you wash that?"

And these are the things I will miss when I go. Which is horribly, painfully soon. Especially for the family, considering they have not yet found my replacement.

They were close just a couple of days ago. Even I had approved of Ali, even though I was jealous of her, and she seemed eager to come. But then we got an email from her in which she explained that she just didn't think the pay was enough for the hours she would be working, and that another family has made her a very tempting offer.

It's unfortunate. But the joke's on her -- because whatever family she joins, there's no way her situation will be as good as this one. I want to laugh at her for that, even though I know that a to-be au pair in her position (which I was, just one year ago) can easily make that mistake.

So why am I leaving at all? I just got my schedule for the next two weeks, and I have five days off I didn't expect, as well as the four days I had requested in order to go to Paris. I delighted in that, as I have been delighting in it all year, and toyed around with all the trips I could take during those days if I weren't three weeks away from moving home.

So why am I leaving at all? I love not knowing when I might be rewarded with a break in my work week. I love the flexibility, the ever-changing schedule, the free time. I love not understanding conversations and making half-hearted attempts to learn Dutch. I love bicycles and canals and tulips. I love this family and their extended family and my silly Dutch boyfriend. I love the summer with its long days and casual feel. I love the little grocery store that somehow manages to have everything. I love shopping for shoes. I love to hate the train. I love cheap airlines. I love that working sometimes keeps me moving at 100 miles a minute and sometimes involves watching CSI while the kids all sleep. I love my living space. This is happy. This is ideal. This is familiar, safe, comfortable.

There. That. That's why.

The rest.

There were other things. Like:

* A contemporary art museum in Vienna with some of the best work I've ever seen on the top three floors, and the most disturbing work I've ever seen on the bottom floor.

* Snow in Prague.



* The torture museum in Prague. I know it's gross, but it's fascinating. Let me share. There was a technique called water torture in which the victim was strapped to a board with his/her belly raised up. Then a tube was shoved down the throat as far as it would go and water poured into it until the victim was horribly swollen. Then the torturer would beat on the victim's stomach with a stick. If no confession was obtained, the tube was yanked out of the throat and then reinserted and the process repeated. Most awful? This was considered "light" torture. Therefore, if such a torture did produce a confession, it was entered into court as a confession obtained without the use of torture. "The good ol' days," says Joel.

* Jack and Joel oversleeping and damn near missing their flight back to Amsterdam.

*

* More long walks. More cold weather.

* The Holocaust Memorial in Berlin. It was one of the best memorials I've ever been to because it's something you feel and experience, not just look at. You look at it, and it's a bunch of blocks. You walk through it, and you understand.

* Shopping at the Great Market in Budapest.

* Searching for a particular coffee house in Vienna for a long time on a cold night, finding it, and deciding it wasn't our thing after all. Okay, my thing. It wasn't my thing. That was me. I made us leave.

*

* The House of Terror in Budapest -- a museum that documents the Nazi and Soviet occupations of Hungary.

* Plum dumplings in Ljubljana.

* Watching Eraser Head.

* This dog in Budapest.

The long ride home.

I left Innsbruck on Friday night, having bought my ticket the day before. I had a reservation on the night train -- the lovely, lovely night train, where you close your eyes and wake up at home.

Turns out my train leaving Innsbruck was 30 minutes late -- and I had only 20 minutes between trains in Munich. No problem, said the guys at the info desk. The train manager can call ahead and ask them to wait 10 or 15 minutes.

But then the train was 40 minutes late. Then 50.

The train was freezing, so after about 20 minutes the manager told us we could move to first class because the heat wasn't working. I'd never sat in first class in a train before, and with good reason -- for a lot more money, there aren't many perks aside from a footrest and more leg room.

The train manager did call ahead. But then he came back and said, "The train..." and did a little wave of his arm to indicate "is long gone". Damn it.

So, I got to Munich and found out the next train headed in my direction left at 3:23 am. That's a four-hour wait in the Munich train station. I bought some coffee and hunkered down.

I got on the train, which took me to Duisburg in five hours. Luckily, I boarded a little early and spread my sleeping self out on two seats, so no one sat beside me even though the train got rather full. I didn't sleep much -- it wasn't the most comfortable -- although a laughing train manager did have to poke me in the leg at one point to get my attention.

Waited one hour in Duisburg for the train that would take me to Arnhem, where I could then catch a train for Den Bosch. If I had managed to catch my night train from Munich, not only would I have had a bed, but I also would have not had to stop in Duisburg.

But all's well that ends well, and things were well, aside from my being incredibly tired. And considering that's the most negative experience I had on my three week journey, I'd say that's pretty nice.

The hills are....oh, make it stop.

I arrived in Innsbruck after dark (it was six and a half hours by train from Ljubljana). My host, Phil, suggested we meet the next day at noon and he would let me know whether or not it was a good day to go up the mountain.

I awoke the next day convinced that it was not. It was so foggy that I couldn't even see a mountain. But I met him at noon. And he said, "Today's a perfect day to go up the mountain." Sure, it's foggy down here, but those beasts rise above that, and awaiting me up the hill is a glorious sunny day.

Hard to believe. But I got on the bus. And sure enough, even at the altitude to which the bus took me, it was sunny.



Warm, even. I rode the lift up to almost the top.

The Alps. Ohhhhh, the Alps.