Christmas Movie Favourties

Mine (in order of importance)

1. White Christmas (Bing Crosby etc...)

2. How the Grinch Stole Christmas (original cartoon version)

3. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever (with Loretta Switt from MASH)

4. Any of the older Disney Christmas short cartoons including the classic Mickey's Christmas Carol

Josh's

1. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

Until we have seen our favourites, it just doesn't seem like Christmas has begun!! There is something so cozy about snuggling on the sofa, watching something familiar and comforting...reminding us of good times and childhood Christmases.

Duggars Anonymous

I admit it. I am obsessed with the show, 18 and Counting. I want to quit my job, move to the country (although I wouldn't choose Arkansas) and have lots and lots of babies. I am reminded of a Melanie Doane song, Happy Homemaker. "Barefoot and pregnant never looked so good, we're all dying to take our shoes off." I can't help it. When I am not watching the show I am much more logical about having a 'quiver-full' but as soon as Michelle Duggar opens her mouth, I just want to drown in this 21st century reality version of Little House on the Prairie. Wholesome as apple pie, as warm and comforting as wrapping yourself in a quilt (that you stitched yourself, of course) and sweet as a lifetime's supply of Rocky Mountain Fudge...give. me. more. You can mock, if you must, but I think there are others out there like me. Don't feel shame. Give in to your closet Duggar. Take a deep breath and dive right on in to that saccharine dream. Aaaaaaah...I'm there.

Thank you Raffi

Today school ended at 12:00. The excitement was palpable. I even got a few giggles when I shook their hands at the end of the day and said, "I fish you a hairy kiss moose" (thank you Raffi).

Be kind...rewind.

My little girl is 2.

Is there any more to say?

How bittersweet the "growing up" is.

I want to pause my life and rewind to remember every moment.

At THIS moment I can hear them giggling in the beanbag. Max is reading her a story.

Isla is pointing to the pictures and telling Max what the things are.

Next week, I will want to rewind to this moment right here.

Snow tunnels + pink cheeks!

Snow.

Is there anything better?

Snow does for me what sun does for normal people.

I don't know why Isla's head is in her doll pram...but she stayed there for quite a while.
Saturday morning snuggles on the sofa. Bliss.

Who Stole Christmas? or Being Grown Up Sucks!

Last Christmas I went back to Canada. I wanted it to be so much more than it was. I wanted it to be a wonderful combination of the best of my childhood Christmas memories and the new ones I was making with my own children but alas, it just wasn't.

The Christmas season has always filled me with delight. Take snow, for example. Is there anything more beautiful than clean, white snow? It makes the world look perfect. Everything sparkles, everything is magical, everything is special. I relish every twinkling light, every strand of garland, every homemade gaudy ornament from my childhood, every Christmas song on the radio, EVERYTHING. I'm also a girl who likes to keep family traditions. Perhaps because I grew up largely without an extended family near me. I adhere strictly to the routine we fell into and balk at the idea of doing anything differently.

But, last year WAS different. Everything was different. With my Dad gone there was an emptiness that I was certainly expecting but there was also the harsh reality that the magic depended on me. It wasn't going to "just happen". All that sparkly specialness was now my responsibility and it lost some of its appeal. I realised that the Christmas feeling I was missing didn't "just happen", it took a family over 30 years to create it and hold it close and give it reverence. A family that is no longer whole. A huge part of us is missing and therefore, there is a large, gaping hole in Christmas. Don't get me wrong. I still like the magic and it's not that I'm not up to it, I just don't like being the grown up sometimes...especially at Christmas. I WILL make it special for my family. We will find our own way and have our own traditions. We will surround ourselves with friends and family and have good times together. But it won't be the same. Christmas will never be the same and I am mourning the loss of it. That sounds so melodramatic but the truth often does. I am now waiting, with baited breath for that 'feeling'. Maybe last year was a fluke. Maybe last year's melancholy was just because it was my first Christmas back in Canada since Dad died.

The snow is here now. There is a thick blanket of it on the ground and it is falling in big, heavy flakes. I can see the twinkly lights from our Christmas tree sparkling out of the corner of my eye and I realise that I have butterflies in my stomach. Perhaps the spirit of Christmas will find me this year. I hope so.

If I could be someone else...

If I could be someone else it would be a combination of Nigella Lawson, Bree VandeKamp, Oprah Winfrey and Caroline Ingalls (from L H on the P). Just think, I would be a dream in the kitchen, my house would be spotless, I could sew and be really practical AND have enough money not to worry about anything.

The perfect woman.

Smile.

Questions

Max asks me a lot about God.

"Where is heaven?"

"Who is God, exactly?"

"How did he make people?"

"Why can't we talk to people after they go to heaven?"

"What is a person's spirit?"

"How can it be inside you but we can't see it?"

"What if I have to go to heaven first and you and Daddy and Isla don't get to go yet? I don't want to be alone there. Will they let you come with me?"

He doesn't dance around the tough questions. He is so honest and direct that I feel he was sent here to teach me. He makes me examine my own beliefs through his eyes. He doesn't accept 'easy' answers and frankly, he deserves more than that from me. He makes me think harder and dig deep. He is helping me along my journey and I am ever grateful that he is here, a little hand I can hold. I only hope that I can be as honest and direct with my answers. I feel that his spiritual education is my most important job and I want to do it really, really well.

All Hallows Eve

Tonight the air is crisp and you can smell winter coming. The moon is not full but it is almost full so the sky is lit up and you can see the clouds shining like blue shadows. They don't celebrate Halloween here in Switzerland and that's not really a problem for me. Someone always organizes a little party or some trick or treating. Sometimes we go and sometimes we don't. As Holidays go, I don't love Halloween but for some reason, I find it special when I see my kids doing something that I did when I was little. I do have many fond memories of October 31st from when I was growing up. My favourite memory is the feeling I got when I was out on my own AT NIGHT. The world looks so different at night and even now, as an adult, I forget to go out and enjoy the stillness and the wonder of the night.

Rainbows and Chips

"Ireland is where strange tales begin
and happy endings are possible."

-Charles Haughey

To be sure, to be sure 'tis grand in Ireland;-)

We just got back from our Autumn break, which we spent near Dingle, County Kerry, Ireland.

Things that are true about Ireland:

1. It is really, really green.

2. The weather changes constantly.

3. The Guiness flows like water.

4. There are rainbows EVERY day...(we never found the pot of gold;-)

5. They have chips (fries) with everything, even pasta and/or potatoes.

Things that are annoying about Ireland:

1. They still have many, many sinks that have 2 taps so in order to get warm water, you must turn on the hot tap AND the cold tap and then run your hands under the cold water (filling up your palms) and then quickly run them through the hot water to make warm water in your hands. Alternatively, you can put the plug in the sink and mix your water there but when washing your face, it soon gets filled up with soapy water and you are then rinsing your face with soapy water which defeats the purpose of cleaning your face in the first place!

2. I found the sweater of my dreams at the woolen mill but there wasn't a single one in my size.

3. They have chips (fries) with everything!!!!!! Enough already. If I see another fry...

Things that are amazing about Ireland:

1. The air is so fresh and clean that it smells sweet.

2. The scenery is so breathtaking that your heart aches to look at it.

3. The scones are delicious.

Things I wasn't expecting about Ireland:

1. It is really expensive.

Will I go back? Definitely. I didn't get to Cork or Killarney. Must do Christmas in Killarney! (with all of the folks at home, naturally;-)

I leave you today with an Irish blessing that although common, is nonetheless heartfelt.

May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Stones and Memories

So here it is again, October 12th. Two years ago today my wonderful, clever, funny, gentle, loving Dad passed away. How do I even begin to mark this day? How could I possibly do anything that would somehow signify the importance of him in my life. The truth is that I can't. Nothing I do will ever seem enough. And so, I will just be sad. I will let my day be filled with memories. I will laugh and I will cry. I don't know what else to do other than stand here and feel it, down to my very soul, the absence of him. He was a storyteller and a dreamer and I loved him so much.

Stones

"Touch a stone and you'll find a story,"

The storyteller said.

"The hopes and dreams of lives long past,

The chronicles of the dead."

"They leave behind a whisper

Scarce heard but to those who try.

Quiet your mind, open your heart

You'll hear them, by and by."

"Let rest your hand on the cold granite wall,

Your fingers brush the grave.

The stones stand strong, as we all fall down,

bearing Witness, history saved."

"As you drift past the stones on your journey,

Will you linger or carry on?

For only those who consider

Will hear the voice that is gone."

"Touch a stone and you'll find my story,"

The storyteller said.

"Remember my words and I will live on,

For soon I too will be dead."

by Lesley Armstrong

Lebkuchen vs Gingerbread

Josh came home from his annual Oktoberfest boy's weekend on Monday and he brought these fun Lebkuchen necklaces for the kids. They were so happy to have a treat BUT I'm going to let you in on a little secret. What nobody tells you is that Lebkuchen is absolutely, undeniably AWFUL. It looks like gingerbread, it smells like gingerbread but it does not taste like gingerbread. I believe it is an international joke played by German speaking countries. Kind of a ..."let's see if we can get all the foreigners to eat this..." sort of a thing. Trust me, stick with gingerbread. You'll thank me.

A lesson I wasn't expecting...

Today I was quickly checking my emails and felt that 'all too familiar' pang of guilt. I could, after all, check my email when Isla has her nap. I turned around in my computer chair to go and 'actively' parent and stopped dead in my tracks. The two of them were quietly playing with lego, building towers together. I watched, transfixed by the loveliness of their play. "Here Isla, you can have this one." "Say please." "Peeeeeeeze". "Good girl". "OK, now say Thank You". (Isla signed thank you). They then got involved in their own things and played separately for a while. They were having such a productive time and didn't even notice I was there. It was like being a fly on the wall...an interesting perspective. I didn't want to move or make noise in case I interrupted their play. All too quickly, it was over and Isla came up to me with blankie and binky in hand, bang on 1 o'clock for her nap. Although I know, of course, not to sit and watch their little lives go by without getting involved, it was a good reminder for me that my kids can have their own space sometimes and, in fact, need it. Lx

A Beautiful Thing

While I was making lunch today, I paused and cocked my head to listen to a strange sound in my house. Silence. I cautiously peeked around bearing in mind my friend Lynne's sage advice: "beware a prolonged silence for you will surely find naughtiness."

Isla was on the sofa, "reading" a magazine and Max was sprawled on the kitchen floor playing Memory. The radio played quietly in the background and it was just a lovely, peaceful moment. I drew as much as I could from it as I knew it wouldn't last but it was a beautiful thing.

Procrastination

There are things I really want to do, that are completely within my reach, that I just haven't done yet. Why is that? I consider myself a 'grab the bull by the horns' kind of girl normally.

Example: I really want to learn how to sew. My neighbor is a seamstress, the cost of a sewing machine is within my reach and my Mum is only a Skype call away if I need help. I dream about making Isla little dresses and whipping up my own curtains...surely this is within my reach. Why don't I just do it?????

Example 2: Running. Since Dad died I have talked about running. I decided that I wanted to see what he loved about, perhaps feel connected to him in some way while training. I have gone out a few times and been really proud of myself BUT I'm not training properly. Why is that?

What is wrong with me? This is a serious case of life passing me by.

Gotta go live.

Lx

Home

Home. Where is home? Some say that it is where the heart is. I suppose this is true, in that you feel at home when surrounded by people who you love and who love you back. A better question might be, where do I belong? This is a much more complicated question for me to answer. I am sure the easy answer is home. I belong at home, we all belong at home. However, where do I think home is? Is home a house? Is home a country? Is home a state of mind?

Take my house. It is not my dream house but it holds my dreams in it, if that makes sense. My children are growing up here. My view keeps me dreaming of the next adventure. It is not too big and not too small but, is a house a home? Do I belong here, in this apartment, in this small village in Switzerland.

Take my country. I am a first generation Canadian. My parents chose to move to Canada for adventure and opportunity and decided to stay for the standard of living (and other political reasons that I will not go into at this time). So, am I Canadian? Am I Scottish? Am I a Scottish-Canadian? And just what is that exactly? I suppose since there is no real visual clue that I am of a different cultural background, it seems a point not worth bringing up. If I was able to be categorized by my visual appearance (pasty white skin aside:-) I think perhaps I would feel more comfortable with a hyphenated description of myself. Also, when coming from a country like Canada, there are so many people with so many different cultural backgrounds, I wonder if we need to label ourselves at all. Isn't it enough to just BE Canadian? Many people would kill to be born and brought up where I was. Canada is an amazing country yet I spent my whole life wishing that I lived somewhere else. Like so many people whose parents immigrated, the home country was stuff of legend, romantic songs and many a melancholy evening (just add a wee dram of whiskey and watch the eyes glaze over and wait for the poetry to begin). I grew up with a very romantic (probably inaccurate) image and yet it remains with me to this day. I wonder if I belong there. I wonder if I will live there one day and it will feel like going home.

Take my state of mind, if you dare;-) Is home wherever I want it to be? Can I belong where I choose to? Is it all in my mind, this FEELING of belonging...this longing?

My last thought for this post is of my own children. Will they be in this same position years from now? Will they feel at home here in Switzerland? Will they yearn for Canada as I do (rightly or wrongly) for Scotland? Will they truly be global nomads, citizens of the world or will they be ships without anchors?

Far Away

" I don't know if you can see
The changes that have come over me
In these last few days I've been afraid
That I might drift away
So I've been telling old stories, singing songs
That make me think about where I came from
And that's the reason why I seem
So far away today"

Above is the first verse of a beautiful song by Dougie MacLean called Caledonia.

It fills me up and leaves me empty, all at the same time.

I have been 'far away' lately and quite lost in thought. There seem to be two of me. I am at the same time happy and sad, hopeful and despairing, sure and unsure, faithful and faithless, focused and adrift.

Do other people live like this after losing someone special? I suppose I can never go back to my blissfully ignorant existence, virtually untouched by loss. Too bad. It was a happy place and I was a happy person. My conscious mind knew of death and it's inevitability for us all yet I never felt the agony of the physical loss of someone, nor seriously considered the tortuous questions of the afterlife. I thought I had it all figured out. One either requires a great deal of faith, or a particular gift for compartmentalizing the big questions and setting them aside, in order to keep going. Before my Dad's death I was so very sure of so many things. I am struggling now to be sure and long for the certainty I once felt. Gone is my innocent, child-like faith and I mourn that, almost as much as I mourn him.

BUT...

I am not hopeless. I anticipate clarity. I search for truth. I am in the valley looking at the mountains I must climb and they are not insurmountable, rather formidable. Courage. Just breathe. If I seek I will find.

The Good Ol' Days again

When we came to Switzerland 7 years ago, we were introduced to Nikki and Stuart, a couple who had made the big move just a few months before we did. They took us under their wing and showed us the do's and don'ts of living here. The four of us slipped into an easy friendship that felt so comfortable, I like to think of it as "friends at first sight". The Good Ol' Days were good. Mah jong, beer, fondue, mah jong, port, fondue, mah jong, champagne, you get the idea... After having their first son in 2005, they decided to move back to the UK. I knew that we would always be friends but it was a time that I shall describe simply as 'sad'. Since they left there has been a Byfield shaped hole in my life.

We spent a Christmas with them and they spent spring break with us and then, fast forward to summer 2009...joy and bliss the Byfield family came to visit us! If not for the four children running about around us, it would be as though time had stood still. The only difference is that we are now better looking, smarter and much, much funnier. The three weeks flew by and, although we are left with lots of fun memories, I am more sure now than ever that life is definitely BWB (better with Byfields:-)

When they are here I revisit old doubts about why I am here, so far away from my family. Am I doing the right thing? It feels right to me. I wake up feeling that I am in the right place but life is not all about feelings. SHOULD I be somewhere else? Have I got obligations and responsibilities that I have pushed aside? Did Mum and Dad think these thoughts each year they stayed in Canada? When, if ever, does a foreign country feel like home? Is home where you grew up, where your family is originally from or where you choose to live? Am I Canadian, Scottish or both? Does it even matter? If we stay for ages, will my children feel like they belong somewhere? Can, and should, you ever go back? Where is 'back'?

My head spins with these questions that plague me from time to time. I take small comfort in the knowledge that if my Dad were still alive, he would like where I am and what I am doing. It would bring him joy.

Living here brings me joy but it brings me sadness too. If I had to be a flavour of ice cream, I think I would be bittersweet. Bittersweet is the flavour of my life.

It is like being a parent. With each new stage of my naughties lives, I mourn the stage they have left behind. I rejoice each milestone but inside I am crying. Crazy, I know. Similarly, with each adventure I have here in Switzerland, I think about what I am missing at home. I know you can't have it all and I know too that the grass is NEVER greener but still...I am always, always wondering.

Camping in the Lauterbrunnen Valley, Switzerland

Ever since I began living in Switzerland, I have wanted to visit the Lauterbrunnen Valley. It has been circled in my guidebook for 7 years. This year, I realized the dream! We just got back from 3 days camping in the Valley. It was very very beautiful and was better than I could ever have imagined.

We arrived on Thursday afternoon and set up camp. The sky was grey but the people in the campsite were confident the sun would shine Friday and Saturday. (I have learned that Swiss people are NEVER wrong about the weather!) Now, my Canadian friends need to understand that European camping and Canadian camping are two very very different things. Canadian camping is really roughing it. You are out in the middle of nowhere with a fire and an outhouse (if you're lucky), you have to tie up your food, or hide it in your car so that the animals aren't attracted to camp and you spend your evenings around the fire, laughing and telling stories until the wee hours. European camping, on the other hand is (sadly) more civilized. The campgrounds are right next to the roads and towns. There is a shop, restaurant, bathroom, laundry room and sink room on site. There is a quiet time (from 10pm - 7am) that you must adhere to and there is absolutely no threat of wild animals anywhere! I must admit that the older I get, the happier I am that there are proper toilets and a room to wash my dishes in. The thing I don't like is the 'no fire' rule. What is camping without sitting around a cozy fire? Sadly lacking.

The Pros and Cons of European Camping:

Pro: The scenery and its accessibility and real (clean) toilets.

Con: No campfires allowed and it is all a bit too easy;-)

Friday morning seemed to arrive very, very early. I forgot how early kids get up when camping. The sky was blue and the views were amazing. We had breakfast and set off on a walk down the valley towards Tremmelbach falls. It is a UNESCO World Natural Heritage site and was incredible! 10 glacier-waterfalls inside the mountain that you get to by tunnel elevator. It is now the only glacier-waterfalls in Europe that you can visit that are inside the mountain. The water has carved beautiful shapes in the rocks and Josh and I loved it. Max spent the whole time with his hands over his ears, saying it was too loud.

Saturday was Swiss National Day. We got an early start and took the gondola up to the car free village of Murren. From the gondola station, we took a mountain train along the ridge to the village. From there, we hiked down to Gimmelwald. At Gimmelwald, we took another gondola down a very steep section and then a bus back to Lauterbrunnen. It was a small circular route but perfect with small children. That night there were fireworks which lit up the surrounding rock walls and the echo was fantastic!

We'll definitely go back as there is so so so much more to do in this beautiful valley.

Lx

This Glorious Morning

Aldous Huxley wrote, "My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing." Although I don't agree entirely, I can certainly see where his father was coming from. Hiking the mountains of Switzerland, for me, is a very special spiritual experience but, sometimes, as I walk down towards home, what I felt absolutely sure of at the summit becomes unclear. Up there I am a part of something bigger than me. Down here I am me again: same doubts, fears and worries. Sigh.

As I looked out of the window this morning, this is the view that greeted me. Honestly, I am overwhelmed every single day by the beauty of my world. It makes my heart sing to be where the grass and trees are green and the snow capped mountains rise up and stand tall.

As I write this, the river rushes by and cow bells jangle in the distance but it is not perfect; cars rush by too and the construction next door of the flats being built can be deafening. At the moment, I choose not to hear those things...I am feasting with my eyes on beauty and I'm going to get my fill.

I have been inspired today by what others have written and so I will leave this post in the same way. A wish for us all: "May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds." - Edward Abbey

Amsterdam: Last Day

By now I had passed enough pancake houses that I was ready to have one of my own. Dutch pancakes are heaven on a plate. They are like crepes except the things you have with them are baked in, rather than folded up inside. I had an apple one and the best cup of tea I had had in 5 days. I was practically shaking with happiness...

We then wandered for a bit, soaking up our last of the Amsterdam atmosphere and then we headed to 'Ton Fun'. It is a children's soft play area built in an abandoned underpass under the city center. You can hear and see the cars and trams passing overhead and the whole place is set up with a car theme. They kept the original road that ran through the tunnel and built on either side of it. The kids can use little scooter things to race up and down the road. Max was a bit anxious as it was a loud place but Isla was Little Miss Independent and didn't stop once the whole time. She cried when we left and kept making the sign for 'more' and saying "mo mo mo".

We made our way to the train station and headed for the airport and the short flight back home to Switzerland.

We'll definitely go back to Holland again...we want MORE!

Amsterdam: Day 4

We spent day 4 at the Artis Zoo, in the center of the city. It is a very old, very pretty zoo set amid lush gardens in the center of town. The animals were surprisingly close and some were separated from the wary tourist by only rocks or water, rather than a big fence (with a few exceptions of course). This was a bit off-putting at first as it seemed like the monkeys and giraffes could just walk out of their enclosures but that didn't happen on our visit;-) I do however, have great visions of the naughtiness the animals must get up to when the zoo is closed at night. Without proper fences to keep them in, they probably all get together and party.

There was a great reptile house, an insectarium, an aquarium, a butterfly exhibit and many, many other animals. Isla was fascinated! She was exhausted by the time we headed home and actually fell asleep on the front of the bike! Honestly, my kids will sleep through anything;-) (pic included)

The only disappointment was the food. Sadly, we forgot our picnic lunch and had to eat zoo cafeteria food. Blah.

Amsterdam: Day 3

Day 3 began very slowly thanks to a late night with my husband and a bottle of wine. Luckily, the kids treated us with a lie-in....something they have never done before. We decided that we would go to the train station and rent some bikes to tour around on. For those of you who don't know, EVERYONE rides a bike in Amsterdam. They are everywhere! Isla and I got a really cool one, with the baby seat on the front by the handlebars. She loved being able to see and I wasn't thrown off balance by her wiggling around behind me, trying to see! Josh and Max were on a child/adult tandem number which had Max in the front as well. He was a little anxious to start with but was soon ringing the bell and shouting, "Mummy, we're cruisin', are you cruisin'?"

I also included pics of the precarious stairs in our apartment as well as the aforementioned roof terrace. Fun stuff!

(For those of you with a keen eye, you will notice that the little monkey with his tongue stuck out has a swollen face and his eye is almost swollen shut. He has really bad reactions to mosquito bites and came down the stairs the first morning looking like he'd gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson! )

Amsterdam: Day 2

After sleeping in, we took the train to Enkhuisen, about an hour away from Amsterdam. It is a quaint fishing village with a little treasure in it called Sprookjes Wonderland. It is a theme park for the under 8's based on Grimm's fairytales as well as other well know stories. It was perfect for Max and Isla. Nothing was too big, loud or scary. They rode all the wee rides and LOVED walking around the elf village. I highly, highly recommend it! We stayed all afternoon and then walked the 15 minutes back into Enkhuisen and found its main streets were pedestrianized and it was late night shopping! I felt drunk with choice of small boutiques with funky style and realized I should have perhaps been born in Holland;-) We stopped to ask for a restaurant recommendation and were directed to the Grand Cafe. It was in an old, town office building and was, indeed, Grand. We headed back around 6:30 and got the kids to bed at a much more decent hour, just in time for us to kick back on the roof terrace with our glasses of wine. I am now wondering how many Dutch people have actually died by falling down their ridiculously steep staircases after enjoying some wine or 'herbal' supplements on the roof terrace. There must be a statistic somewhere...

Amsterdam: Day 1

We arrived late in Amsterdam and were so knackered that we decided to take a taxi to the rental apartment, rather than the train. It was a top floor apartment in an old, skinny, 5 story house. The stairs got more and more narrow as we hiked up to our floor and by the time we got to our front door, the stairs were mere ladders! Quaint is the word I will choose to describe it, rather than inconvenient or dangerous. While I put the kids to bed, Josh went looking for a store or restaurant that would do take-away and came back bearing noodles and chopsticks. Hooray!

The next day dawned and the sky was blue so we hit the streets to see what we could see. We were up a bit early so the street cleaners were still out tidying up from the night before but I didn't care. I was fascinated by how beautiful everything was! We walked past the main harbor and fancy train station. We strolled through sweet little streets that lined the gently winding canals. I loved how the houses looked like fancy milk cartons, all squished up together and took numerous pictures of the different, ornate rooftops. The houses seem to lean this way and that, sometimes the opposite way from the house next door! It has something to do with Amsterdam being built on a deep layer of sand...the effect is a bit 'diagon-alley'.

I was brought back down from my revelry by an old, fat prostitute in lingerie, knocking on her window from the inside, trying to get my kid's attention to wave at them. Not something you often see at 9:00am on a Thursday morning.

We walked on to the famous flower market. I was not particularly looking forward to seeing it as I imagined it was nothing fabulous but oh how wrong I was. Stall after stall of bulbs and flowers of every colour of the rainbow ran along one side of the canal and shops/cafes were opposite. Isla had fallen asleep at this point so we parked ourselves outside in front of a cafe and watched the world go by.

We attempted to go on a canal cruise twice but both times the sun was too strong and the captain of the boat recommended we come back in the evening as the boat was too hot for children (and probably us too:-) We went for dinner and came back around 7pm, by which time the sky had clouded over nicely and we had a lovely cruise through the city. Max stole Isla's headscarf in order to transform into Captain Max, most feared pirate in Holland....Aaaarggghhh! One point: stay away from the floating Chinese restaurant near the train station. It is mentioned in the tour recording but is a big disappointment. Mediocre food and WAY overpriced. Also, our driver asked for a tip but didn't give the tour. It was a recorded voice, while he drove. I thought that was kind of cheeky...anyone else?