Dinner and a National Record

 

Sometime last week my two younger brothers and I decided to meet up for dinner. With all of us being quite busy and very broke, we settled on something no-fuss. Then, through the grapevine, I heard about an attempt to set the record for the longest vegetarian table. Not only was it going to be in Amsterdam, where we had already agreed to meet, it was on the exact day of our meeting as well. Also, it was free. Even though we are all very much the meat eating kind of people, that settled it.

We decided that if the food would not be to our taste, we would just go somewhere else and have a steak. We needn’t have worried. At the Amsterdam Museumplein, right behind the famous Iamsterdam sign, an enormous amount of tables had been set up. Covering every tabletop were bowls and platters and more bowls filled with delicious looking food. And those were just the cold dishes.

The main courses were veggie shawarma and a vegetable dish that reminded me somewhat of ratatouille. Then there were three different salads to sample: a quinoa, a beet, and a carrot salad. All wonderful, though the quinoa one was definitely my favourite. Also on the table were a thick humus, and garlic sauce. I didn’t have the sauce though, none of the other dishes needed it in the slightest.

  

You can check out the recipes (in Dutch) here, just scroll down to the end of the page.

  

All in all it was a very good experience. I’m not saying I’m renouncing all meat from this day forward -not saying that at all- but I do think this dinner made me realize that eating vegetarian does not just mean eating the same stuff as always, while omitting the meat. Which is of course exactly what it, in my mind, did constitute. If you look for me closely, you might even find me in the supermarket sometime, checking out those weird looking meat replacements. Might.

As you can see, even my middle brother approved of the food. And he is the kind of guy that will very happily be living on large buckets of KFC for weeks at a time, maybe spicing things up with a small side of McDonald’s every now and then. A couple of beers later, an hour or so after our dinner, all he had was one little burger. The smallest one the fast food place offered. Trust me, that is really saying something.

Into the woods

Just as you have cat people versus dog people, I believe you can also make the distinction between sea people and forest people. I myself am a dog kind of girl as well as a forest person. Truth be told, cats frighten me somewhat, and though I like to go to the sea every now and then, the forest feels like home.

A few days ago I went back to my hometown to attend the birthday of one of my cousins. I took the opportunity to take a long hike through the forests of my youth. The forest is relatively small and you'll never fully lose sight of civilization, but it's beautiful nonetheless.



The place is actually still owned by a true count, who has quite a strong say in whatever happens in the adjacent city.  As a lover of history and tradition this is something that really speaks to my more romantic side. Not too many a place can boast things like this.

Summer in Holland never counts a lot of sun hours, and the day of my little hiking trip saw strong winds and moody grey clouds. The perfect wheather for a walk. I might be prejudiced though, fall has always been my favourite season. I guess the storm winds are in my heart as well.

Just looking, listening, smelling and walking, on and on. I could never see myself sitting in the lotus position, chanting weird words in order to reach some higher mental place (not only is sitting in the lotus position just physically impossible for me, I'm also very much unable to let go when feeling like an idiot), but when I come back from one of these kind of trips, however short they might be, I feel rested and relaxed, free, and as if anything is possible. I guess everyone has his own kind of meditation, and walking is mine.

I read somewhere that apparently loads of writers like to take long hikes, the rythm of walking being perfect for creating new stories or poems. I don't know if walking really is a thing amongst writers, but I can certainly imagine it to be so. Every step you take clears your head a bit more, making space for new thoughts to arrive.
The only thing needed for true perfection now, is a way to get rid of the mosquitos that only needed a few hours to turn my body into a lumpy, itching mess. You know, a way that does not involve destabilizing the entire ecosystem and the eventual but very certain death of all life on earth.