My dad has arrived in the Netherlands! After a very long, but probably the best day I've had in Holland in awhile, on Monday, I woke up early to catch a train to Schipol to meet my dad at the airport. I arrived around 9:15 and met my uncle at the gate. We waited for what seemed like hours (but was actually only about 40 minutes) and finally, my dad appeared through the sliding doors I arrived in 3 1/2 months ago.
We arrived back in Kubaard around 12:30, just in time for a typical farm dinner: meatballs, potatoes, and yoghurt. After that, we drove around, saw some friends of my dad's, and then headed back for a light meal, a few drinks, and bed. We were wiped-- from traveling... and the previous night's activities.
Upon my dad's arrival, he mentioned going to the Keukenhof. Even though I had already gone with my host parents, visiting it again didn't sound too bad to me either. What other SPICE students can say they went to the Keukenhof with both their host dad and their biological dad? I bet I'm the first, and we all know how much I love being number one. So, Wednesday after lunch (dinner, whatever you want to call it), we headed to the Keukenhof. Naturally, I slept the entire car ride there, but it was much needed: this time I had to be the tour guide. Unfortunately a lot of the flowers were already cut off, but it was still a beautiful day. After that, I took another power nap in the car as we headed back towards Friesland and found a restaurant to eat at.
Thursday brought a lot of wonderful things-- bad weather and the flu. I woke up that morning feeling horrible but didn't want it to ruin the time with my dad. So, since I had a little homework to do anyways, I let him and my uncle go visit the non-English speaking friends while I rested up a bit and finished an assignment or two. Then we went off to Topenhuizen to meet up with one of my dad's cousins-- luckily this portion of the family speaks some English. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening visiting with him and his family. Because of the poor weather, we weren't able to do the thing I was most excited for: a hot air balloon ride! I guess it's OK though. I don't really want to know what the flu would feel like from one of those anyways.
Friday I went with my dad to the town of Epe where he was once a policeman. We stopped by a few friends of his from his police days and then he showed me around a bit-- where he lived, where he worked, and so on. We then found the same Indonesian place we ate at 6 years ago when we were in the Netherlands. After thoroughly stuffing ourselves with loempias, bami, nasi, chicken soup, and ice cream, we headed back to Zwolle where we would split ways for a few days. When we arrived back in Zwolle, my two dads met at long last! We spent the rest of the evening with a few of my host brothers, my host parents, and another very tasty and equally large meal. From there, my dad took me to the train station and I picked up my bike and headed home, just in time to meet my host brother and a herd of his friends getting ready to go out for the night. Naturally I joined them: how can I say no to such a group of young Dutchmen?
Saturday was Liberation Day-- the biggest celebration in the Netherlands and Zwolle was the place to be. The city was packed with beer drinking, snack eating, music loving, proud Dutch folks. We began our afternoon at some of the Dutch students' house and then made our way to the big festival in the park across from the GH with a few of the Americans. Here's the thing about festivals like this: you show up with 10 people and you leave with 2, never to find the other 8 again because your phones/i-devices don't work, since every human is packed into one location trying to find their other 8 persons as well. So, after a few free beers (because I'm a good citizen and picked up over 20 cups from the ground), some fries, and a nice rain and beer shower, Katrina and I headed back to the house. There we met up with the group for awhile, and then I headed back into the festival with some of the Dutch guys....never to find the Americans again (until about 12:30am at the Flying Horse). As much fun as those sort of festivals are, I never want to be separated from friends like that again, especially knowing that I missed out on a goodbye or two. Lucky me, these are the goodbyes that don't actually count because I'll see them in 3 months again at school. Regardless, it was a fun day and an experience I'll never forget.
Sunday I attended church with my host family, had coffee, packed up my belongings (almost for good), and was picked up in the afternoon by my dad. Bittersweet, being separated again from Zwolle, because I know the next time I return, it will be the last. As much as I love having my dad here, I knew I would kind of feel bittersweet about it as well. There's so much he wants to see and do and I want to do it all with him, but leaving Zwolle, even for a few days now, breaks my heart. It's the place I call home, and for the first time in a long time, it's a home I'm not ready to leave. But alas, my sunset in paradise is still on the setting side. Perhaps it will rise again someday, but for now, I'll just keep embracing the good times I have left here and enjoy the company I've been blessed to share it with.
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