Skating on the Canals

After three weeks of opportunity, we finally borrowed some skates yesterday and headed out on the ice with Dutch friends.

Seemed as if the entire population of The Netherlands had the same idea. Turned out to be the last day of good skating.

Latest word is that the last good freeze was actually 12 years ago. Maybe we'll get another chance 12 years from now to learn more than just how to slip, slide and fall on our bums.

Of course, while we're frolicking on the ice, it's easy to forget what millions of families in Eastern and Central Europe are experiencing, given the Russia-Ukraine dispute that's limiting the flow of natural gas westward. Hard to imagine what it'd be like to be in Bulgaria or Slovakia or Serbia, cooped up in an apartment without heat, trying to care for an elderly parent or infant.

A good reminder that we've got a lot to be thankful for...

Let It Ice, Let It Ice, Let It Ice

Today's the day. The day that temperatures are forecast to break out of the cold snap that's held The Netherlands in its sub-zero (Celsius) grip for the past 3 weeks, almost every night and day.

The last time the Dutch experienced a deep freeze of this length and magnitude, according to friends here, was about 10 years ago.

Sporting goods shops, normally accustomed to supplying skates to only users of skating rinks, are practically sold out. Everyone and their mother has taken skating on the canals, which are covered with a foot-thick block of ice.

Last year, apparently there was one day on which the canals froze enough to support skating (while we were vacationing in the States). This year, news reports herald the advent of a New Generation of Skaters. Kids who've been able to simply walk a couple blocks to the nearest neighborhood canal, pop on their skates and jump-start their ice hockey or speed skating career.

The impact on moods has been palpable. Accustomed to dreary overcast winters not unlike those of the Pacific Northwest, the Dutch have long endured December through March with a perpetual Seasonal Affective Disorder. But this winter has been different so far. Cold yet sunny days have lifted the national disposition. Hours of outdoor skating have heightened the already high level of physical exercise.

Today, we take the kids out again onto the ice with some friends. The notoriously unreliable weather forecast hints that today will be the last day of the current icy period, followed tomorrow by moderation and Tuesday by rain.

Soon enough, we'll be back to normal - the mostly cloudy, soggy dimness with occasional "sunbreaks" that we know and love.

Dutchlish

"Daddy," Sophie said in her best I'm-complaining-but-really-deserve-your-sympathy voice, "Ben is laughing me out."

Ben started giggling.

"Laughing you out?" I replied. "What do you mean?"

Somewhat involuntarily, Sophie joined in the giggling.

"Making fun of," interjected Josy with a smile. Hysterical giggling ensued. Over the next five minutes, Ben and Sophie each traded a flurry of tongue-in-cheek accusations that the other was "laughing me out."

Such is the world of Dutchlish. Or Engutch. That linguistic netherregion where predominantly English speaking children living in Holland become so familiar and comfortable speaking Dutch that their spoken English starts to exhibit hybrid vocabulary and Dutch sentence structure.

After 2 1/2 years of living over here, Dutch has now become Ben and Sophie's default language. But it makes sense. They speak Dutch every day in class at school and after school with friends. More and more, they've taken to playing in Dutch together at home. What a concept.

For Christmas, Sophie's big present was not what we would call a "scooter." Sure, it looks like a scooter. It rides like a scooter. It even says "scooter" on it. But it's a "step." And she can't get enough of layering up in full body armor and helmet (see photo) to go around the block on her "step." "I wanna go ride my step," she says.

Their less frequent use of English comes with a downside, too, of course. Words that were once second-nature are fading from memory and sometimes hard to recall at all. The other evening at dinner, Sophie politely asked - mostly in English - for a "mess" (knife).

A couple nights ago, when looking at the outdoor thermometer, I asked Sophie where the needle was pointing. "Between dertig and veertig," (30 and 40) she answered.

Just this morning, when setting up their Ikea kids' table for breakfast in a pretend kids' house quadrant of the living room, Ben declared that in this zone we'd have to converse with them "in onse taal" (in our language). Their language? Egads.

Once we move back to the States, the one Dutchism most likely to earn them a double-take from other American kids will be their tendency to say "I also," when meaning "me too." Ready for ice cream, guys? "Yeah, me!" one will say. "I also!" the other chimes in.

The upside of all this, though, is their incredible fluency in Dutch. Living here, in many ways, has been like free language training for them. Many Dutch adults they meet comment on how truly Dutch the two of them sound. With real Amsterdam accents.

Hopefully, all this bi-lingual living will help open doors for them down the road. Or perhaps activate language learning synapses that will enable them to pick up other, more commonly spoken languages.

And if one starts to learn Spanish or Chinese, the other may just try to keep pace. I can already hear the choruses of "I also!"