Recently in Trip to America Category

I think I am finally getting used to the idea of my oldest kids being where they are. They are in good hands and they will be having the times of their lives, I believe.

Proof they are having a great time in America.

We have been back in Holland now for two days, but still it is difficult indeed to shake off this aggravating thing called jetlag. What is jetlag anyway? Basically, jetlag is caused by crossing over multiple timezones in a short period of time. While your biological clock is based on a certain timeframe, by quickly shifting to another timeframe, the human body takes time to acclimate. While you are in California where it is six in the afternoon (dinner time), your inner clock still set to Dutch time may be telling you that it is three in the morning (REM time). It is time to eat a pile of Mexican food but your body is telling you that it is time to sleep.

You feel tired and cannot concentrate, have dry eyes and throat, and easily become irritated and/or irrational. In addition, it is hard to sleep becuase your periods of slumber are short and light, and you suffer broken sleep because you are either waking up all the time, or too early. All in all, not much fun.

So the four of us were all wide awake last night and could not sleep. In a way it was kind of funny. The two parents and two kids hanging around with all the lights on at two in the morning, reading and talking to pass the time. In a way, it was almost like a slumber party, and the fact that the vacation memories were still fresh in our minds made us feel in a good mood despite the discomforts. Fortunately I did not have to go to work in the morning. I slept until noon, believe it or not.

For more information about jetlag click here.

Well we have finally made it back to the real world of Gouda after having a truly wonderful vacation. What can I say except that the three weeks went by really really fast. The first week was gradual, the second week a bit faster, and the last week just flew by everyone without warning. Everyone was just fantastic and we really appreciate their hospitality. A vacation is by definition finite in time, otherwise it would not be a vacation at all. Kind of like how beauty does not last forever either and that is how its essence can be truly appreciated. If life was one big vacation then would there be room left over for something like a vacation? Not really. It is hard to say good-bye to everyone because I will miss them very much. But the great part I should not forget is the fact that I was blessed with the opportunity to see the rest of my family and relatives and take part in the celebration of being together. I have one day to recover from the jet-lag and re-acclimate myself, before deciding what to do with the rest of my life. Going to have to find out what is really happening and what I have to choose the proper path to follow.

For some strange reason, my kids do not like watermelon. They had it for the very first time while in America on vacation, and (with a slight though politely repressed grimace on their faces) they said it tasted kind of funny. Unusual and not edible. I guess as Dutch kids who grew up in a faraway country where there is no such thing as watermelon, they had never had the opportunity to develop an appreciation for this fine form of gigantic fruit. By never having tasted it, the buds on their youthful tongues had never developed any specialized nerve endings near enough to the surface. Feel like a nice juicy piece of watermelon? No thanks. On the very last day of our stay, my sisters and their husbands and us drove down south near Solomon's Island to have a nice going away picnic. The barbecue was fantastic. Afterwords we had juicy pieces of watermelon, but me and my sisters were the only ones who could really appreciate the great taste. There's nothing better to cap off a filling barbecue on a hot and sultry afternoon next to the water.

One finds it hard to believe that a mere twenty minute drive outside the very densely populated Washington D.C. area brings one to a beautiful countryside of undulating country hills in the peaceful state of Maryland. This was a pleasant surprise for us on our way south on highway 301 to my sister Kathleen's place, which is a fine abode almost in the middle of nowhere but close enough to Annapolis and other medium sized towns. Calvert County is the place to be if you really want to get a feel for the American way of life. So much green vegetation and tall trees swaying in the slight breeze, the sun shining across the tops and casting an array of shadows here and there. If it were not for the telephone poles and the occasional gas station here and there, you might think that you were back in the colonial days. Some of those houses look like mansions, and many small wooden grocery stores along the road seem to verge on mystical wooden cabins dating back from the previous century. We are having a fun time and the time is passing by quickly. In just three days it will be time to head on back to the real world of Gouda. Bummer, but that's life. A vacation is by definition a fleeting moment, so we must absorb as much as possible before we return. The kids are now calling for me to finish up on the computer, as we are ready to go to some world famous water park nearby. This is the water hole where the rednecks go to spend there free time, so we should fit into the crowd perfectly and mingle with no problems. Nothing like having a nice cool dip to escape the sultry heat and humid air. Boy is it sure hot, hotter than hot. This evening Bailey (Kathleen's husband) has promised to treat us to one of his famous barbecues. I cannot wait to sink my teeth into the nice big steak and corn on the cob. Every evening we have dinner together on the wooden porch outside, enjoying the food and talking about anything that comes to mind.

People keep telling me all the time that I look and act just like my father. "Hey," the keep saying, "that's exactly what your father used to do!" Mostly my family, but I can also see it in the eyes of my relatives and friends, how they react. I do not know what it is, but I have heard this more than a dozen times now. Perhaps it is the way I slurp my instant Nescafe, my loud and grumpy voice, the occasional huffing and puffing sounds, the way I sit reclined next to the swimming pool, certain things I say (eg. "I guess I'll have a bite now to tide me over"), my balding scalp (and how it is peeling badly after getting sun-burned), or whatever. To be honest, I do not like to be compared with someone else, even if it is my father. The fact that he has passed away makes it more sensitive for me, but at the same time I can understand the psychological patterns which family members share when they confirm these so-called similarities. Alright, I am who I am, I am me, no matter what. But that does not change the fact that it was my father who gave me half of my life. Similarities remain no matter what, and it is interesting as well as insightful. Not only for the others but for myself also.

Finally got to see my Dad again for the first time since he passed away. Almost two years ago. I made my way with the family to the Arlington Cemetery where my father's ashes have been placed in one of the impressive structures called a columbarium. There was his niche where they had interred his ashes. Three from the top and three to the right. Three down, three across. The number three. I took my blue Monterey, California cap off in respect, stood in silence for about a minute or so. I felt in the air the mood of the official ceremony which had taken place more than a year ago. Finally I felt the marble surface with the engraved words of his name with my fingertips, asked the kids to do the same, and then I said it was time to go. Just like that.

What struck me on the way out of the columbarium was how humid, arid and dusty everything there was, the surroundings so very white and bright in the awesome sunlight. The hard ground was parched and arid, strands of grass yellow and dying in the sun.

I still miss him alot, but time goes on just the same without him.

While reading on the plane from San Francisco to Washington Dulles, I happened to come across the following passage:

"If you think it is important to know about yourself only because I or some one else has told you it is important, then I am afraid all communication between us comes to an end. But if we agree that it is vital that we understand ourselves completely, then you and I have quite a different relationship, then we can explore together with a happy, careful and intelligent inquiry." - Krishnamurti, Freedom from the Unknown.

I found this passage particularly appropriate in light of the fact that my journey through the this country in which I grew up offers me new insights into the past as well as the present. As long as I am not influenced too much by what I am told to see and feel for the United States, eg. through so-called patriotic sunglasses, religious institutions, touristic elements, or whatever.

Every journey, even those while on vacation, offer insights and open up new dimensions into learning about oneself. Even better so as long as you are not overly influenced by the external pressures to experience events in ways that they were never meant to be.

So we had a safe flight back east over the United States, and we now find ourselves at the stylish home of my sister Martine and her husband Alan. We are having a great time.

For the afternoon we all hopped into the rented mini-van, and I drove us on over to Washington D.C. where we saw all kinds of monuments including the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial, Vietnam Veterans Memorial, as well as the White House and other important historical stuff.

While we were outside walking around the perimeter of the White House, Maarten of course really had to pee badly. Leave it up to a seven year old to pick out the most opportune moment. The security was tight and there were police all over the place, but this was too important. Maarten ran over to some historic tree and urinated on the magnificent trunk over to the right. I hope President Bush does not mind. No one saw us and we were not arrested.

Boy, was it hot and humid.

My other sister Kathleen and her husband will be arriving shortly for a fun good old American style picnic with barbecue. They are stuck in traffic somewhere. It will be great fun when they get here.

Wait. They have arrived, and it is time to go.

As I had promised him for two weeks now, Maarten and I climbed the hill behind the house together. We sat at the peak for ten minutes in silence (at least as silent as is possible with a curious seven year old) contemplating the future next to each other. It was a great view down to the house and over the the hills across the small valley.

I took a nice long stroll with my mother next to the Carmel Beach along Ocean Avenue just being comfortable. Hopefully in my own quiet way I was able to convey to her how very thankful we are to have been able to visit for two weeks.

Finally, and the most symbolically, Thea shaved my head with the very same hair clippers that my mother used to run loose on my father's bald dome before he passed away two years ago. Kind of funny when you think about it.

No matter how difficult it is to depart, we leave with a combination of subtle sadness and regret over compensated by all the lovely memories we have been able to share.