2010

Amsterdam canal in winter
Originally uploaded by Gypsy Saskia

I yelled at the tele, fists clenched, and shed a tear when Sven Kramer missed Gold due to a miscommunication with his coach. I felt even more sorry for Kemkers than I did for Kramer. For the WC final I bought an excruciatingly expensive ticket to the Dam. In complete silence I watched the last few minutes in Cafe Tapmarin. It took some time before my colleagues stopped commenting on De Jong's talent for karate. And the Ashes? Don't get me started.... Not a great year for sports, 2010.

Hours were spent on twitter and news websites, trying to keep up to date with the world of politics. British elections, followed by Dutch elections (and don't forget the Australian). A slightly trolleyed Simon Schama on the BBC, a massive applause for Femke Halsema on politiek24.nl. An unusual coalition cabinet here, an unusual minority cabinet in Holland. The Christian Democrats and UK Labour congresses I watched on Twitter and the BBC streaming, both from my bed in Langkawi, Malaysia. Fascinated by the changes in the political landscapes.

Alexander (Lee) McQueens death shocked me. So young, so talented. Mulisch' death came as less of a surprise, especially after an overeager Dutch ceefax journo released the news way before it was meant to be shared with the world. Hanses Dijkstal and Van Mierlo, Miep Gies, Jan Blokker, Leslie Nielsen. The world lost a lot of special people.

And then there were Wikileaks, the miners, The Engagement, the iPad. Things that dominated the news for part of 2010. And of course the ash cloud of the vulcano with the name I cannot pronounce. The fecker was responsible for me not seeing my bro for a whole year, as we were supposed to meet in Holland that week and only he made it. Haiti, Aung San Suu Kyi, bad and good news throughout the year.

When my LinkedIn travel stat told me I'd visited nine countries this year, I figured it must be a mistake. But it wasn't. I made about 17 trips in 2010, only 3 of which were for work. The joys of living in Britain, tickets are relatively cheap and choice is plenty. I visited friends in Vienna, Melbourne, Singapore and Barcelona. Made several trips to the Dam and discovered Malaysia.

Also, 2010 was the year I decided to return back to Holland in 2011, for at least 2 years. The picture at the top of this piece is to remind myself that Amsterdam isn't so bad. That said, it's been a difficult choice. If work weren't a factor, I'd stay here but as things are...the best job for me in the near future will be in the Dam.

And finally, I turned into a bit of a shopaholic this year. I buy less but better stuff and spend hours online scavenging for it on sites such as mywardrobe.com, netaporter.com and theoutnet.com. All of a sudden my wardrobe contains Vivienne Westwood, Nicole Farhi, Missoni, Jil Sander and Marc Jacobs. The northener in me makes sure to buy these things in the sale, but still...I have definitely been Londified.

But the most important? 2010 was another year without deaths and illnesses, with the exception of one of my bosses. He has leukemia and is constantly in my mind. It's a blessing to not have lost anyone dear, to be healthy and know that the people that matter most are too. And that made 2010 a great year. No trips or handbags could ever compensate for that.

Sas the scarecrow

If I am not going anywhere after the gym, I tend to walk home in my gym clothes and a cardi, thongs on my feet. My shower at home is much more comfy then the gym ones and I like the cool down a walk gives me. Today, I'd forgotten my cardi. And my thongs. So I ended up walking home looking like a scarecrow. Although on first glance, one might have thought I was wearing fancy shorts with a jacket, a closer look would have told a bypasser I was wearing running shorts with my high heeled cloggs and my linen jacket. Match that with a red face from the exercise, and a wet-cat-look from the rain that was coming down and I am sure I looked awfully attractive. I surely got quite a few stares. Thank god I didn't bump into any colleagues or clients. Although the moral victory would have been mine, as at least I had been to the gym!

Skin OD

After my last project, I got the feedback that I was very lifestyly (yes, I know that is not a word) and too much of a fashionista (the latter says everything about the person who said it and very little about me). Fair enough. Had said person told me while I was still on the project, I would have worn a suit a bit more. As it were, I was wearing 3/4 black trousers and red patent heels on a regular basis.

What I wasn't wearing, were short skirts and low cut tops. Each to their own, but I don't think it's particularly suitable in an office environment. Clearly, many of the female staff of a London company I visited this week, think differently. Half of them could have gone clubbing straight from work. F*ck me heels, cleavage, short dresses, the works. Only the sparkles were missing. It does make me wonder....if I get hugely distracted by staring into someone's cleavage during a meeting, how must the men that were present have felt? Surely 3/4 black trousers and red patent heels would have been less distractive?

Wrong park, right dress

So, there were daffodils. Quite a few of them. Yellow and white. And deckchairs, so I read in the sun for a while. I didn't quite get though why Zoe thought the daffodils in St James Park were so great. Only upon leaving the park, I'd realised I'd gone to Green Park.... To the left of Buckingham Palace, where I should've gone to the right for St James Park. I'd only been there once before, and hadn't noticed. So St James Park's daffodils are still on my to do list.

As Green Park is close to Oxford Street, I decided to pop into Boots and House of Fraser. The Karen Millen dress I'd had my eyes on for weeks was still there, so I tried it on and it fitted like a glove. I must by now own 15 dresses or whatever. Way more than in, say, the previous 20 years of my live all together. Dresses rock.

Spring? I am ready!

Tired body

My body is tired today. Not so strange, looking back at all the exercise I did this week. Steps class on Tuesday, 3k run on Thursday, 700m swim on Friday, pilates on Saturday and aerobics this morning. My ribcage and abs are so tight it ain't funny. A sixpack must be developing underneath the excess kilos. It's great to see my body changing and getting stronger. I know I had two options when I came to London: live a really healthy lifestyle with loads of sports and limited calories, or do the full-on expat thing and drink and party like mad. So far, I am glad I chose the former. Not only is it healthier and does my body look better, it also saves me a hell of a lot of money, that goes straight into my clothing budget. To the extent that I just bought a Nicole Farhi alpaca (lama-like animal) wool cardi. Elena can rest assured though. No new shoes since I last saw you!

A/W

Autumn/winter. Buzzword in the clothing sections of the papers and magazines. And I laaaaaaaaaave A/W 08 daaaaahlins. Pussybows, checks and loads and loads of cardies. And in an attempt to do my bit for the UK economy, I went slightly nuts in French Connection today. A blue pussybow check shirt (two hits in one go), a very soft grey cardy with gorgeous buttons and a dark grey pussybow cotton dress. Just above the knee, but very suitable for work with leggings and heels (bearing in mind that my standards are still well below those of your average City girl). And the best thing: the dress is a size 38. Not that I've gone skinny all of a sudden, but the sizes at French Connection are very friendly for the mind. A nice thing when you're one a weightloss mission.

Back to the Dam

One of my oldest friends, Erik, is getting hitched tomorrow in Amsterdam. So I have booked my flights, packed my suitcase and am off to City Airport in a bit. A suitcase for only two nights may seem a bit extravagant, but it is a proper wedding. With hats and all that. No hat for me tho, as apparently hat season is done with after Ascott and forking out £200 at Selfridges seemed a bit excessive. But two dresses, a clutch for the day and a small bag for the night and two pairs of heels take a bit of space. I don't think I will ever have looked so stylish. From the pedicured feet to the clutch, it is so not me! Or so not the old me, I should say. The new London-me likes stiletto's, girly dresses and nicely painted toenails. The old me is still there, of course. The girl boarding the plain will be wearing brown havaianas on her feet, clear nail polish on her finger nails as a DIY-colour-paint is still asking for trouble, and a simple top on a shabby pair of jeans. No make up, her in a messy bun. I will save all my not-so-effortless styliness for tomorrow!