Axel was up first with the promise of cooking a chili omelet, a Friday morning ritual. First one, then two, then all of our eggs were bad. We were warned about that in our orientation course, “When the weather gets warm, food spoils very quickly.” Indeed. We had to send our guard out to get fresh eggs since we cannot simply walk down the street to the store. We did have our chili omelet after that.
Aside from an expedition to the supermarket in the afternoon we had a quiet day at home of reading and doing not much of anything until dinner time when Ben and Tara came. It was their last escape from the US compound bubble to our house, for a farewell dinner. They are leaving in two weeks for a new assignment further east. Ben brought his knitting project while Tara took over one of mine and added about 20 rows.
Over dinner we made plans to visit Iran some day, their ancestral home land. They think it is going to get worse there and we should go now, join a tour, from Holland. Apparently even a few Americans are doing this. See Isphahan, Shiraz and then get out of there. After that we are invited to see them in Cambodia and tell our story. This sounds like a good plan.
In the afternoon, while I was cooking a recipe from our Lebanese cookbook (apricots stuffed with spiced rice), the usual afternoon dust storms started, leaving everything inside and outside our house covered with a layer of grit, like fine sandpaper.
Tonight I learned from the French TV station that we watch occasionally to get the news, that Holland is number 4 of the 6 happiest countries in the world (Denmark, Finland and Norway take the first three spots, then Costa Rica and Canada in 6th place). The full report will be published soon and will tell us also the unhappiest place in the world. It’s probably a tie between Somalia, Iraq, and Afghanistan. My Dutchness should be good for something in this country.
Sylvia's Journal 
0 Responses to “Being Dutch”