After a nice late-morning walk in the woods with Beau (my canine friend) and Carole (my godmother), Carole and I ventured into Haarlem, the closest city, and wandered around for a few hours. I was quiet and trying desperately to think of something to say, so Carole wouldn't think I was miserable or a terrible person, but I failed. I was hollow. In retrospect, I'm pretty sure I was functioning on a level just a notch above sleep-walking.
Around 1:30, we got a cup of coffee/hot chocolate (I had the latter) and discussed the iPhone we'd just activated for me while I'm here in the NL. And by discussed, I mean that we talked a little bit, but mostly we looked at various (Dutch) magazines and occasionally commented on them to each other. Sleep-drinking.
We had to drink fast, though, because I was set to go on a tour of the Ten Boom house, a place where some large number of Jews stayed during their escape from Nazi control--something akin to the underground railroad houses that existed during slavery in the US. The first portion of the tour was the back story. Everyone on the tour--except me, of course--had read the book that Corrie ten Boom had written, "The Hiding Place," and so many of them already knew the story. I, on the other hand, had no idea. I tell you this to explain the vested interest I had in listening to the story. Plus, there was life or death at stake for the people in the story. Still, twenty minutes in, I was literally holding my eyes open with my fingers as we sat and listened. Between the dark, cool room and the tour guide's soothing voice, I was struggling to continue sleep-listening and was falling into straight-up sleep mode. I was being rude--there were only 7 other people on the tour, and I was sitting directly in front of the guide--but I couldn't help it! I rubbed my eyes. I shifted positions. I blinked constantly to keep my eyes from rolling back into my head, but they just kept rolling and blurring! I just kept thinking, what happens if I DO fall asleep? And what happens if I have to keep up this almost-unconscious state for the next hour of the tour? What happens to Corrie, Betsy, and their dad? Well, I found out the answer to the first pretty soon thereafter when I jerked back awake after what I suppose was a split-second of sleep. That little jerk kept me awake for a little while, but luckily we got to the end of the story soon enough, and we began to wander the small house on foot.
So, the story. Or at least what I was awake for, and I'll keep it short. The ten Boom family helped--if I heard correctly--hundreds of Jews take refuge for a period of time in a small, hidden room in their house, that you accessed through the bottom of a cabinet. Eventually, they got ratted out by a neighbor, but the police only found the extra ration cards they'd hidden in a baseboard. So, the ten Booms were taken away to a concentration camp, but the Jews that were hidden at the time (six of them in this tiny, tiny room!) were released by a couple of good police officers who already knew they were in the house. The dad and older sister died in the concentration camp. Corrie, the youngest, lived and spent the rest of her life working to repair the brokenness the war had created in Europe and across the world.
I was much more animated after the tour (maybe power napping is a real thing?), but nonetheless, Carole made me take a 30-minute nap when we got home. I felt much better afterwards, but I think it probably hurt in the long run. I have never been an effective napper.
We ate dinner with her husband, Michiel, and then walked through Heemstede, their town, to get some air, let the dog out, and hustle her in-laws for some tiramisu at their nearby Italian restaurant. Best. Tiramisu. Ever. Also, really good mint tea. And really nice people. (I probably should've mentioned the people first. Man, I am on a roll with the rudeness.)
The succeeding hours were spent in front of a computer screen, trying to figure out the details of the iPhone: how does it work? why do I have less credit than was paid for? why is there no back button on an iPhone? why doesn't this website have a translator, dammit? I managed to mostly answer the first question for myself, and I used Google Chrome for the last, but the other two are still mysteries. Nonetheless, I finally set up my internet, SMS text, and phone.* Score one for communication.
By this point, it was 11pm. I was proud of myself for staying up so late. Hell yeah. I'm practically a Dutch person now.
Of course, what I didn't realize then was that the nap, the tiramisu, and multiple hours staring at a bright screen in a dark room would keep me awake a lot later than that. Here's to hoping I don't nod off again today.
*Wnt 2 txt me? I downloaded Viber and What's App. Check me out, yo: 31 06 18 72 03 51. But don't actually call me the regular way--that would cost a fortune.
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