Amsterdam with a toddler

With all trips I've planned or just dreamt about recently, to moderately large towns, I start at the New York Times. They have a travel section called "36 Hours in _____" and I just Google that with the name of the city. This tends to give me a good overview of some things to try, and I usually find at least one restaurant recommendation or the like to try out. The toddler in our lives means I tend to skip all of their suggestions for after 6pm, but I like having one recommended thing to start with. This time, it was a restaurant called Pancakes Amsterdam! I think that it was actually called something different in the 2007 article from the NYT, but we found it and it was perfect.

It is in a charming area called the "9 streets", full of cute little boutique shops that furnished me with a beautiful pair of earrings and 2 dresses, too. Tiny place, lots of traffic, so we had to go down the street, found some coffee (that gift from the Northern European gods is discussed below), and came back 40 minutes later. They have crepe type pancakes, American style one, and all sorts of yumminess in between. We had one with bacon, leek and cheese, and one with coconut milk, bananas and coconut shavings.



That's Baby A happily decimating the bacon one. She then went on to pick the coconut shavings of the sweet one, which shows you how much her father loves her, given that he's likely to do the same. Very baby friendly, complete with IKEA plastic utensils, plastic baby eating tarps, and some kid books. The waiter kept cooing at Baby A, too. We liked it so much, that she and I went back there the day we were on our own before flying home.


Speaking of the coffee we went to get while waiting to have pancakes...There is the toddler, having a great time trying to catch pidgeons outside the best coffee I've had in years at the Dutch chain Coffee Company. This was actually our second Coffee Company visit, the next day, but the coffee happiness was pretty constant at all 3 shops we went to. The shops are all in bold colors and the place might look too corporate at first, but these lattes could hold a spoon upright while the espresso shots slowly dissolve it.



So, most important things (food and coffee) covered, next I'll touch on accomodations. A lot of the B&B's in the city were booked, or had a 2-night minimum. The hotels were wither really pricey or had so-so reviews on Trip Advisor (another site I rely on very heavily for planning trips. I spend a lot of time looking at the reviews). So my other new favorite travel site, AirBnB came to the rescue. I love this site. It is full of individuals renting out a room or whole apartment/house they own. Usually cheaper than a hotel. And the best part, as far as traveling with a kid, you can find a place with a living room space (for a little person to stretch her legs and unwind after hours in the stroller) and a kitchen. Some even have a washer/dryer in the unit! We stayed at one in Chicago over the holidays and loved it. The one in Amsterdam, from Mia, was also great. I was looking for a place in the Leidseplein area of Amsterdam after reading a review that it was surrounded by great little streets and shops, etc. Loved the place. There was a grocery store around the corner (also great for travel with kids, and the sort of thing people tell you about on their AirBnB listing), as well as a tram stop from the train station. So, try out AirBnB - I stick to listings that have gotten at least a few reviews and are good reviews. I stay away from listings (just like with TripAdvisor) that have mention of crazy landlords who flip out. For me, no amount of great reviews can buffer the potential of an unstable personality. Even more so when I'm traveling with my kid.



Ok. Those were the basics of a good trip. I just happen to love the architecture and vibe of Amsterdam, too. And just to be extra confusing, let me put the first part last. When we got out of the train station and I knew from Mia's text message (ooh, having a local cell phone, with a working Google Maps is really really really nice - I have a horrible sense of direction, and I like it better than pulling out a huge map that screams "tourist!" At least in Northern Europe I can fake it sometimes. Especially in tall-person Netherlands.) to grab the 1, 2 or 5 tram. I went into the tourist office across the street from the train station and bought a map (just because I don't like using them doesn't mean I won't), a TimeOut Amsterdam magazine in English full of food suggestions (I like food. Can you tell? Like, a lot. And I like finding restaurant gems even more), a transport card for trams and buses, and tickets for the following day to the Van Gogh museum. All before heading to our place for the night.





Turned out to be a great thing. I went to get take-out from a delicious Thai restaurant that was reviewed that month, for dinner that night in the apartment. We didn't have to bother with change for the trams. And best of all, the next day when we were trying to visit the Van Gogh museum quickly enough (in an hour, pick a few rooms and not try to see the whole thing) to get Baby A down for her noon nap, we went straight in without waiting in line to buy tickets. Fabulous. The museum itself was pretty roomy, even with a crowd so Baby A wandered and pushed her stroller while we took turns seeing the paintings in a room. She even practiced her new hands-folded-across-chest art critic pose once, which got a bunch of smiles. And the restaurant there had a decent selection of food for lunch for us. Sorry, no photos allowed in the museum, so none here.


And there you have it. Amsterdam with a toddler. In 24 hours, even. Oh, last thing, trains run to and from the airport every 15 minutes or so, many Dutch speak fantastic English, and M's bag got stolen on the train into Amsterdam a few days later, from the above-head luggage rack so although it is a charming town, it isn't crime free.

I had it coming

Remember yesterday, when I couldn't say enough good things about Amsterdam? I mean, I even forgot about the cupcakes which were just one more selling point for me. Well, on his way to the airport to come home, M's work bag got stolen. Gah!

Phone, wallet, USB stick with last few presentations and passport were all in his jacket, thank heaven. But a new book for Baby A, the house keys, the mailbox key, and his work notebook were all in there. And we're talking professional job, complete with distractor guy spilling coins on the ground while someone else must have grabbed the bag from the luggage rack and gotten off in Amsterdam. Jerks.

So yes, I'm a bit cooler on Amsterdam, but not much. I mean, that is something that could happen in Chicago, Toronto, New York for sure, half of Europe at least. My mind went more to thoughts of why Switzerland isn't like that and what is the social cost of such safety. I mean, here if you lose this kind of thing, you get it back. Cash intact. Granted, not if it is stolen. But so far we've had many things returned to us that have lost their way. But there is still something about the society that doesn't feel as warm in connection with this phenomenon of things always being returned. Maybe the phenomena is due to fear of repercussions. That would make things less warm and fuzzy. People being nice to you so they don't get in trouble. Japan felt a bit like that, too. Safe. Very safe. At the cost of what, though? Meaning, is the safety worth whatever the cost is? Or would I rather live somewhere where my big city radar needs to be turned up a bit, but that is more vibrant perhaps?

Anyway, there it is. A stolen bag and a dog with an itchy skin condition upon our return home. Those pancakes sure were good, though. I'll leave the 24 hours in Amsterdam for tomorrow. I need to go call the rental company to report the stolen keys, and we're low on clean clothes, too.

Amazing coffee, and pancake restaurants everywhere

If the Dutch language doesn't have die/der/das articles, I'm moving. M and Baby A and I were in the Netherlands this weekend. What a charming place. And seriously, the coffee I got, in a low, round bowl, had all the makings of a Cambridge, Mass, Porter Square latte. I think M might have drunk 3 double shot drinks in one day just to try to fill up that amazing-coffee-shaped-hole in his heart.

Amsterdam found its way into my heart in under an hour. The old buildings, the people, the non-Swiss chewing gum stains, the pancakes. These people respect the pancake in all its glory - we had one with bacon, leeks and cheese, and another with coconut and bananas. Baby A made sure to get as much of the coconut one as her father would let her have.

Bicycles everywhere. We even got to rent one in Leiden where we were visiting friends and go around the extremely flat town on two wheels. A was quite happy sitting in the little baby seat on the front handlebars, complete with her own handles to hold.

The weather was good, for this time of year, I guess. But the fact that it was a damp cold, about 5 degrees colder than Zurich and I'm still gushing about the place means I must have really liked it.

It was my first solo flight with Baby A, and we did okay. She was with me the whole day, hung in there like a trooper in her stroller, and while she had a 15 minute screaming, pre-nap episode in the plane, I survived it. No glasses broken, and she finally stopped kicking and flailing, took her binky back, and passed out in my arms.

I also think we found just enough cool things to do in Amsterdam to make it a really packed but successful visit with a toddler. So tomorrow I'm going to take a page from how the New York Times does their "36 hours in...." travel series, which I always check for a new city I'm going to, and do one for 24 hours, with toddler, in Amsterdam. Pancakes, strong coffee, Van Gogh, and Miffy included.

The orange trench coat wants to go somewhere

I've been lusting after bright (not light) orange clothing items online for the last few months. There was this J Crew coat that I stalked for a while, watching the price go down, then realizing the quantities in my size had just done the same. Oops. It was a great coat and I'm sure I would have been an overall happier person wearing it instead of my mainstay black coat.

Just like I was sure about the orange H&M sweater today that I didn't buy, and the orange H&M trench coat that I did. There sure are a lot of orange coats that I'm not sure I'd be happier in on Etsy, too. Now the weather has to actually get a bit warmer so it can be a grey, rainy but not so cold day and I can brighten it up in my orange trench coat.

I am also frantically emailing all manor of B&B's and vacation rentals for an upcoming trip. I put this part off a bit too long, and there is not a lot left now. Although, yet again, AirBnB.com seems to have come through again. They list rooms, apartments and houses for rent all over the world. We stayed in one in Chicago that was perfect - a one bedroom loft apartment with a washer dryer and baby bed available. Free street parking. Close to museums and shopping. Great person doing the renting. Large cities have a lot of options on AirBnB, smaller cities, not so many. But with a toddler, it is nice to have more floor space, a fridge, a stove, etc.

But back to the coat that will make me happier (as well as prettier, more interesting, and way cooler). It really needs to warm up now, because I'm stuck being boring, bland, and tragically unhip right now. Ok, I'm mostly joking. But I do judge myself pretty harshly on a daily basis about things like this. I see those happier, better woman on the tram, bus, coffee shop, everywhere but in the mirror. And it isn't just about learning to feel good enough intrinsically anymore (although this should be the main goal). It is about teaching my daughter the same. I mean, she's absolutely adorable (and, conversely, can be a screaming demon) no matter what she's wearing. I love her just the same. And my husband. And my friends. Family. Pretty much everyone gets this pass from me but me.

That's not true. I can be brutal to women on trams and buses. In my head. But (have I written about this before?) I notice so many little details. Now, the step that follows, where I then connect those details to the person's worth, that's the part I'm trying to change. Because I'll always notice a lot. But it doesn't have to turn into America's Next Top Model in my brain.

The trench coat is very quiet at this moment. But I've promised her that even if I do find some hidden spring of confidence, she'll still be going out to see the sights soon. I mean, she's bright orange after all.

I'd rather not spend $5000 on your painting, thanks.

I've been spending time on Etsy, lately. The website where people sell all sorts of handmade stuff. Great website, lots of things I've put in my "favorites" file, but only a few things I've ever bought. Anyway, this site is HUGE. Full of all sorts of great (and horrible) stuff. And pretty hard for me to navigate some things.

Like jewelry. How do you manage to do a web search on this site for "not ugly, tacky jewelry, and not stuff I won't like" ? There is a lot of chaff to get through for a few bits of wheat. I recently bought a great necklace from this seller.
But her crochet stuff is listed smack dab in the middle of a lot of boring crocheted jewelry. I can't even remember how I found her. I certainly didn't go in there with "crochet" and "necklace" in my list of search terms.

There are so many little gems of shops on Etsy, but it takes a lot of time to find them. Like this one with animal silhouette pictures and handmade stuffed animals. How cute is that?

And then there is the artwork. Original artwork. Thousands of pieces of oil paintings alone. Just for fun I ordered them from most to least expensive. Let's just say the $100,000 pieces are not encouraging. And that at almost every price, the naked woman's body art is....meh. And then at the $200 range, where I could seriously consider a purchase, again, some horrible stuff, and some cute things. One woman does a still life painting every day - I read about her in some magazine and accidentally stumbled on her page on Etsy.

I've moved from general oil paintings to still lifes, in the $100-$200 region. Not sure why, but I think I like the black and dark colors in many of them, with the surprise of orange for a piece of fruit, or sky blue on a bowl. I guess you need to go into Etsy with some pretty specific items in mind, and then it isn't so overwhelming.

(20 minutes later)

Ok, I went back to my still lifes on Etsy, and realized what I need to do. I searched on one type of fruit, I chose the lemon, and there they were. The super realistic, the too dark, the ones I thought were boring, the ugly, the intriguing. It was easy to find ones I liked and see what else the artists did. And it turns out many different artists do this "one painting a day" thing, and there are actually a lot of $35-50 still lifes I like. A lot. How cool.

Crying it out

When we first got the Pupper from the Human Society, we signed her (and, more importantly, us) for an 8 week training class. The head trainer was amazing, equally patient with dogs and their humans. The other trainers helping him liked dogs, but often got short with us humans. And really, the class was meant to train the humans to carry out commanding correctly. This class was a no yelling, no punishment class. All positive reinforcement. The basic principle was very simple and applied to every command:

1. Say (or hand motion) the command;

2. If the dog does nothing, you do nothing;

3. If the dog does what you wanted (perhaps coming by a gentle pull of the leash toward you those first few times), say "Yes!" all excited and happy as soon as the command has been executed and give a cookie.

A few years later, at a dog park in Tucson, the I saw the power of positive reinforcement used for a horrible purpose. A "trainer" was working with a man and his dog just outside the fence of the dog park, having the man yank the dog's choke chain harder and harder each time the dog misunderstood a command to heel while walking. Harder, harder, until I was close to an anxiety attack for the poor animal and the beautiful German Shepherd was cowering and whimpering. It was grotesque. And the "trainer" seemed to be having fun, calling out "yank! yes! yes! harder! good! good job!"

It was the first time I'd had the nerve to say something to someone else about their behavior and I managed some wavering "if you don't want to hurt your dog while training, the Human Society has great classes. This isn't training, this is abuse" the former directed at owner, the latter at "trainer." Of course the "trainer" got pretty upset with me, and I don't know if I got through to the owner. I was shaking, heart pounding.

Only later did I realize the irony of the situation - the dog had learned nothing through punishment and pain. The real results came from the positive reinforcement. The trainer was getting the owner to be more and more violent with his dog by applying the same principles our dog class teacher had - praise and encouragement. You can bet that owner would have walked away had the "trainer" said something like "you idiot, can't you even hold your dog right?" I wish I had realized that at the time.

Just as before, the dark side of positive reinforcement hit me this morning as I was reading a moms' forum about using the Cry It Out method, applied to kids who just kept crying and getting sick with despair. I've mentioned before the one incident where Baby A smacked her mouth on the crib and started bleeding which convinced me that Cry It Out just wasn't going to work for us - it went past my limit. I'd rather have a kid that wakes up more often than a bloody kid. And just like with that dog, I don't think Cry It Out works on all kids, and that it is harmful to keep using it no-matter-what. That can just land certain parents and kids in a traumatic place.

But these books, be they about Crying It Out or other parenting techniques that encourage us parents to do things that make our kids cry, bleed, throw up, get so upset...they are doing the same damn thing. Using positive reinforcement on us the readers, the parents ("Keep at it! Nothing comes easily! It's okay for kids to cry! You're a better parent for doing this!") to get us to do things to our kids that may not be where we wanted to be. That put our relationship with our kids in conflict. That encourage us to stop listening to them, in lieu of listening to some author who does not live in our house with our child.

I know, sometimes we have to say "No" and kids will cry. A lot. But I'm realizing that I want to be a whole lot more skeptical about books and blogs and "experts" who prey on my desire to be a good parent to encourage me to do things that make me uncomfortable.

Somedays you're the windshield...

Like this past weekend, with its gelato and fresh pastas with end of season truffles from a private chef. Latte machiattos from steaming machines.

And sometimes, you're the bug.




I'm spending more of today's time on labeling this blog finally.