Where to begin? It has been a year. January has been dragging along, this turn to fascism and authoritarian regime in the US is depressing. Although now I know how it happened that the Nazis came into power.

The common people are powerless against the powerful and the rest of the common people who support and cheer them on. You can’t do anything against Chad and Jane who salivate at the despair of others and think the orange man and Elon Musk are the best thing since sliced bread. Worst of all you can’t do anything about ignorance, about the ones who don’t vote or focus on a single issue and don’t see the whole picture.

In all the constant stream of bad news, although I must say I’m limiting mine a bit. I don’t read every news article, but enough to stay on top of things. You know me, I believe in being an informed citizen. I abhor complete ignorance. In all of this negative stream, this social media post was tragically comforting:

The Nordic countries show they stand together and show it in the most personal down to Earth way in contrast to the oligarchy bacchanal at Mar a Lago. Greenland is not for sale or for taking. On January 29, finally, the EU called for a ‘Europe first’ policy. Took them damn long enough to wake up and smell the coffee.

Grey days for days

Climate change also means weeks without sun, waking up with mist and going to bed with mist.

Last week I had a doctor’s appointment at another hospital, a far away one. Some scheduling conflicts and me not taking action. Long story short, I had to use my one free day in the week to go to bum-hole suburbia and then walk 20 minutes to the hospital. Which is a regional one, which means small, old, and depressing. Not that hospitals are fun places. But I like mine with large glass windows and lots of people.

Went all the way there for a 10-minute appointment where I was told I would have to go through some exams which would require a night or two at the hospital. At least they’ll give me a light sedation, those are always fun.

Our memories they can be inviting

Walking back the 20 minutes to take the tram back to civilization I remembered going to church when I was a kid. My grandma was a devout Catholic and many times she made me go with her on a Sunday morning at 7. My grandpa would drop us off because one he was a Protestant and did not go to Catholic church and two because he did not do church of any kind. His church was his fully equipped workshop where he spent his retirement years fixing things.

I did not like going to church. That one hour seemed endless as a kid and I was just performing: sit, kneel, stand, sit kneel, stand, shake hands, Amen.

But now? What would I give some days to be sitting there in the church pew with my grandma, the ventilators on the walls zooming along, the smell of incense, the droning of prayers, the priest preaching in broken Papiamento with a heavy accent. The bell: dinggg dinggg dingggg. Santo santo bo ta.

It has become a safe space in my mind to retreat to.

The world in black and white

It has been so grey that not even with the mist I was able to shoot nice photos. I got up extra early one morning to do a round in the city before going to the bakery for fresh bread. But it was just grey and more grey.

Even so, a group of us went to Amsterdam on a Saturday morning, to the NDSM shipyard in Amsterdam for a photowalk.

The only reason the power of Jesus compelled me to get out of bed at 7 in the morning on a cold and rainy Saturday to take the 9 am train was the doctor's visit on Tuesday. It’s always a harsh reminder that I should take advantage of being able to do things like this. Food was also a motivator. You must not forget that even after 8 hours of sleep I never wake up energized, one of the complicacy of being chronically ill.

Seriously tho, do healthy people wake up energized at 7 am on a grey rainy Saturday morning?

Saturday was mildly fun tho, took the train, than took the ferry, walked around for 3 hours. Then we had tea/coffee/hot chocolate to warm up. I took the ferry back, then took the tram into the city. Because once a foodie always a foodie. I went to Stacks Deli. I have been wanting to go for some time, but last time I was in Amsterdam, also on a too early morning to give a lecture at the university, they were closed.

But I finally made it there. For a cider donuts, the best BLT sandwich I had and a bottle of hot sauce. I hauled it all back to eat in the warm comfort of my home.

Where are you from?

Over twenty years here I still get asked where I am from. Two times in the past 7 days. I know it’s mostly showing interest when they hear my accent. But on some days I am not in the mood to explain that I moved here to attend college, things happened, never left and so forth. I’m preparing a story for the next time I’m asked, I’m still fine-tuning it.

‘I was born in the 80s in Urk (a small fisher town in the bible belt), my father was a shrimp fisher. He’d go out on the boat every day except Sunday when it was God’s day of rest. He would take me along many times to teach me the craft of shrimp fishing. Then during the great storm of November 2000, papa never returned from the seas. There was no more boat for me to continue the family tradition of shrimp fishing, so I moved to the city to study. And here I still am, living and working in the big city. Still dreaming of shrimp, the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. Dey's uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that's about it.’

It’s wild inside my head.

Seen and read

The first weekend of the year Apple TV was free for everyone. I took advantage and binge-watched both seasons of ’Shrinking’ a comedy-drama about three therapist and their lives. That show is so good. Never did I think that one of Harrison Ford’s best roles would be a curmudgeon therapist with a tiny heart. The show mostly deals with grief, it’s deep but damn funny.

Mention worthy book I read this month is More Days at the Morisaki Bookshop. Book two in the series. I was gifted this copy, bought in an independent bookshop in London. I like little details like that.

Same as the first book it is slow-paced, but it’s still engaging. I did not expect to be crying about it. The sad part got me. If you need a good cry this will do. If you like contemporary fiction, read these. I also like that it is Japanese fiction, which gives you an insight into Japanese culture.

Not me looking at plane tickets to go to Tokyo.

I wrote on my website about my theatre experience recently. I was invited to go to a theatre play, The Seagull by Anton Chekhov done in sign language and captions. It was a fantastic night and I also learned there is a theatre a stone's throw from my apartment, I always thought there was only an art house cinema there.

Till next… -Darice