Like Harlem

When I think of Harlem in New York, the pictures of neighbors sitting on their stoops is what comes to mind. This happens in my neighborhood. Because the houses are on a small brick road that abuts the water of a small harbor, every house has chairs or benches in front. [you might remember last year someone lifted my chair] and so it was Sunday, four sets of neighbors shared a glass on the stoop. As cars went by, those that knew the neighbors, stopped, rolled down their windows to say hello. Those that didn’t tried to zoom by which was accompanied by much comment. The passing dog walkers smiled, the tourists looked shyly and the gathering finally broke up when the evening sun set and the air turned cold.

The Actual First Hours of Returning…

Or Truth Be Told.

Morning arrival: 4:58 am. Sunday, NO trains run at 5:30 on a Sunday.
Take a taxi to here? ‘m too ‘Dutch’ for that, [translation = frugal]
I didn’t have luggage, only a small carryon as I use ‘send my bag’ service. There are some things they won’t allow you to ship, so those you schlep.
None of the airport services were available except, bless-their-corporate-heart, Starbucks; the only service available at Schiphol. Even the folks that work the customs inspection were absent.
Eventually the train does arrive but work is being carried ‘somewhere’ on the rail line, so, in addition to the train one leg of the trip was on a NS bus – another good reason not to have luggage. That was a 45 minute ride. This bus dropped us all off at the final station to catch the last half hour of the train ride.
Finally home, just another five minute walk from the train station.
Arrived at the house, which had been occupied by the owner over the summer.
Unlocked and opened the door- new lock — as the owner had finally changed it after 10 years of renters and keys on the old lock. The new one worked flawlessly.

As a lovely gesture, the owner left a garden bouquet on the glass dining table.
However, many days had passed since she put flowers to water and the odor of stagnation, was, you can imagine.
Set everything down that I was carrying, opened the back door to facilitate a fresh air breeze, opened the front door carrying the offending stems, walked outside, crossed the brick road to deposit the offending bouquet in the berm

And then you hear it!

That sudden, solid, singularly recognizable sound.  
The door shutting and locking you out.

Of course I had hidden a spare key in the plants prior to leaving. But that was for the OLD/other lock

There I stood. Tired, rather raw, and completely shut out!!

The tale has a wonderful end; the short version: how to meet your neighbors on an early morning on a Sunday.

After considering what it would cost to break the small window pain of antique glass and deciding not to, the early morning dog walkers were my first line of attack .
Accosted a couple of male dog walkers, guess I’m too old for the damn-sel in distress not one of them could help. One reminded me it was Sunday and of course no lock smith was available. Wouldn’t you know, it was the sole woman dog walker who came to my aid. We walked together along side her two chocolate labs, to her boat to retrieve her flower arranging roll of wire to see if we could use it, like one would use a coat hanger.
Soon, two other neighbors joined in; one who was observing all this from the other side of the harbor while sitting on his boat. [Don’t know if he heard my initial reaction!]
A grand time was had by all!  Much laughing and clucking and being neighborly- there are some funny little offshoot stories.
But at last, the door was open with wire from the woman dog walker, with the aid of a hand-held a mirror through the door’s mail slot by a neighbor who has until now been distant and unfriendly.
The actual work done was accomplished by the handsome man from the boat.
The wire pulled the lock open.
The rest of the day i carried a key in my pocket,
All this time the neighbors cat was winding his way through my legs because no one had fed him shrimp in the three months I’d been gone and he was desperate for some.
It was a chaos.

There is a Dutch saying: Better to have a good neighbor than a distant friend.
In the afternoon, a neighbor on whose door bell I had pulled, plied me with coffee and said they didn’t answer my bell-pulling because they thought it was the Jehovah Witness folks.

That evening another invited me for a glass said it had been a long day?
Now two days later, a key is buried outside…
I think I’m going to sow more along the berm…

We’ve Solved It!

The hacking days are behind! To bring you up-to-date I have been in the US since June and what a trip it is. My car was safely in storage and now liberated. It and I have been on the road. Have seen a multitude of friends and thoroughly enjoyed every moment. At present I am in Upstate New York. It does feel like old stomping grounds. It is beautiful. I will be in the States for another month…

Time Out

The hacking continues. This is discouraging. Please disregard any further obscure writings and if you look at the name of the author you will see it is not me. Hopefully it will soon be resolved. Be apprised that I know and am sorry for any confusion. This is my first tribulation in 9 years of blogging….

Beyond Her Job Title

The Dutch language newsstand is crammed with niche magazines. They are expensive. One day I asked a seller, ‘Who buys them all’, and he assured me business is thriving. It made me think about a magazine from decades ago that covered everything: celebrities, art, theatre, style and ended with spreads of expensive real estate. I asked the seller if he remembered the name. He did not. As days went on, I asked other, older Dutch folk and everyone rather looked at me strangely. At the bus.train stop on Sunday i asked strangers. Next, I began to ask foreigners who had lived in Holland. They remembered the magazine, but not the name. Now it was an obsession; I had to know. Looking on line, discovered the original publisher had been absorbed into a newer publishing house. A telephone campaign took form. Following my fifth try, I landed with a telephone receptionist who volunteered to pass me along to a colleague. The colleague, who said she was ‘Diana’, volunteered to ask yet another colleague, I could call back in a few hours? Five hours later I called again, and Diana put me through. Lieke listened to my description, conferred off phone and came back and said ?Avenue?. Yes, yes that it is. Diana had gone way beyond her job title of telephone receptionist. I telephoned her again, told her how she had been so unusual in this day and age to go out of her way. She was touched. I asked if her boss/manager was available, and may I speak with her? Diana transferred my call. I spoke with her supervisor: what customer service this employee had given, how gracious, helpful and beyond the call of duty she had gone. She deserves to be watched for bigger and better job positions. To my surprise the b/m agreed, we exchanged a few additional niceties and hung up. Subsequently shared the magazine name with others who were now having sleepless nights unable to remember. Diana made the day for a lot of folks.