Back home

We're back "home", although "home" now is a bit.. diffuse. And it's very warm here. About the same temperature as in Spain, but far more humid. So it's very clammy. We don't like clammy. Clammy is only good for cleaning cloths.

We're quite tired. Travel groggy.

The hotel the night before flying had guests that kept on stomping around till two in the morning, keeping us awake.

I spontaneously had a flashback of the house in Amsterdam where the neighbors on one side had a trampoline in the living room ( " THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! STOMP! ") and a garage door that had to be opened a hundred times every day ( " RRRRRRANG! THUMP! WOING! WOING! ") and closed a hundred times a day ( " ZRRRRNGKLAP! "). Oh, and a guitar that was plucked an hour long, one string only. ( " PLOING! PLOINGG! PLOING! ", etc.) Yes, the same people who, on New Years Eve, put their car in their garage, then went among other people's cars to do fireworks. The trampoline was finally, after we became angry, moved from the living room to the room on the ground floor. As if that is better. Stupid people? Not really. Highly educated. Promoted even, but just nasty bastards.


The neighbors on the other side had a kid that banged the front door ( " THUMP! "), then pounded up the stairs ( " THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! ") (15 steps), then clapped close the door of the living room (" BANG! ' ). These people also had a kitchen counter against the separating concrete wall with kitchen drawers that were not very well braked, so every time a drawer slammed shut it was " KWANK! ." I do not want to leave unmentioned the squeaking shower tap deep into the night, like the piano that they could not play. The stampoline neighbors also had a piano, and were equally non-gifted. ( " Va-der-coPPLOING!" and "farmer-there-is-ZOINGG! "). These guys had two cars on three parking spaces. Fortunately, that street now has paid parking. (Heheheh!) Again: stupid people? Not really. Highly educated, even promoted, but just nasty bastards socially. Still hate them.

Oh, before the latter neighbors there lived another highly educated PhD bastard, who liked it if his little brat was rollerskating on the parquet ( " DRRRRRR! DRRRRRRRR! DRRRRRRR! "), and kept busy an hour with a nice bucket of marbles ("....").

That is why we have moved to a detached house. We remember a viewing of an otherwise very nice semi-detached house in Utrecht where the owner said "you never hear anything from the neighbors, unless she wears heels on the parquet". Oh dear, thank you, but no.

During the flight there were two screaming toddlers who were continuously comforted by their moms, but they just screamed louder and louder. Fortunately, I have in-ear earphones with a soft rubber perfectly sealing cap, and Bobby O.

The cat neighbours have their caravan in front of their house again. (Illegal parking.)

No, indeed we don't love people. That's why we bugger off to a remote part.

No helicopter in three months; here two in one day.

Three months one plane a week, here every 5 minutes from half past 4 for a few hours. (Hate you, KLM and Transavia.)

Three months no motorway, here a constant drone.