It’s been almost a year since I’ve moved here, and the blending of countries and cultures (identities, perhaps?) is in full swing. I read Dutch newspapers, I watch Dutch news, but the rest of me is immersed in Americana. Well, except on Saturday mornings.
As I’ve told you, Saturday mornings are for garage sales. We find everything there a house could want, and then some other things. Wooden shoes for example, or Delft Blue ornaments. The two things tourists eagerly take from the Netherlands to the United States to have something Dutch in their home (some say Mrs Missouri went a little overboard bringing a complete Dutchman in her home). The other morning we found a little wooden shoe at an estate sale, which read ‘In een huwelijk mag men kijven, maar de liefde moet blijven’ (I can’t translate this without cringing, but it basically means ‘You can fight within a marriage, but love has to stay’; it doesn’t make more sense in the original, nor is it more inspiring). I am amazed at the little crumbs of Holland that I find in unexpected places; I’ll take them as signs that I am dearly missed.