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Don’t you love the view of this house? And you know what?
It get’s even better. 2 houses Down the road live a couple from our church. And their son is Joas’ best friend.
How great would it be if…..
This house seems ideal.
It’s in the estate next to us. The boys could still go to school by bike. The estate has a swimming pool and tennis courts which you can use if your part of the estate- association.
The house inside is lovely. Although much smaller than the house we live in right now.
And we have the pleasure of seeing it even before it’s on the market, back in April, last year.
The garden is the same size we have right now but is situated on the main road from Gouvieux to Chantilly. The noise from the cars is all day long. But back in April the price for the house is high. Almost at the top end of our budget.
And the house doesn’t have the guest rooms we’d so like to have.
But it’s next to our friends.
Even though the price has come down almost 100 000. 00 euro’s since, every time we stand in front of the house and hear the noise, we step back into our car and say: “No, this house is not for us!”
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 Plop!
An add pops up on the immobilier site.
A house with a GREAT garden in Gouvieux.
Again the pictures are not everything and the address is unknown.
And so the phonecall to the estate agent is made again.
Later that week we meet in front of the house. The house is on Rue or Route de Lamorlaye.
Although it’s a fairly busy road the owners of the house say it never bothers them. The house is: weird!
It’s been built in 3 different stages in over the last 70 years. Starting in the year 1942. The house is entered via a small, glass conservatory. After that you step immediately into the old living room space. With a fireplace.
This is the centre room in the house. All the other rooms are entered via this room.
On the left 2 bedrooms and a bathroom. Straight across a very small French kitchen. And to the right the new living room built in 1952.
The new living room has, all the way to the right side of the house in the right corner, the stairs to the first floor.
The first floor is even weirder. The mezzanine is big with windows. The ‘room’ after that has NO windows and leads to a VERY BIG room all the way to the left side of the house. And there’s a bathroom with an electric toilet.
Basically the upstairs has just one bedroom.
The sous sol (basement) is big but the ceilings are low. Mark has to bend a little.
And the sous sol can only be reached through the outside of the house. And the only place where the washing machine can go is in the sous sol.
I just can’t see myself walking outside with a basket of laundry to open the sous sol with the key to reach my washing machine. And then…. I know so many washes will be done and after that forgotten because I just don’t pass the washing machine and see that it’s ready. We think about it.
We even go back for a second viewing on Thanks Giving Day.
But in the end we feel the house just wouldn’t work for us.
And so we leave it again….. |
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| Januari 2012 |
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Her jaw drops.
Her face turns pale…
It can be good as we’ve just put an offer in for her house.
 The days are still nice when we start to look at the next house.
We’ve seen the house many times on the internet. But it just didn’t speak to us.
And so… we left it.
As the prices the estate agents earn by selling a house are ridiculously high, about 40% of the houses are sold privately.
A search- watcher makes sure we see the ads that are interesting for us on that site. One afternoon the ad for a 6 bedroom house in Gouvieux pops up. The description ticks all the boxes we’d like to find in a house and so we phone the owner. After he told us the directions we realise we’re going to view the house we definitely didn’t want to see. But… we can’t get out now so we’re going to view the house.
The rain pours down when we arrive at, what might be, our new house.
The elderly couple that opens the door speaks quite good English and with a bit of French from our side it works really well.
While Mark checks all the window on wood rot and the electric and waterpoints in the house, I figure out that the couple have already bought their new house in the southern part of France. To be nearer to their kids and grandkids. Nearer in this case means about 1,5 hours away.
Later that afternoon we’re quite enthusiastic. We actually like the house. Although lots of work needs to be done. The bathrooms (3 of them), kitchen en toilets are all about 30 years old. The fabric on the walls doesn’t seem to attract us. But the house could work for us. It has 2 bedrooms and a bathroom downstairs. Great for all the 168 visitors we had over the last 2,5 years in France.  | | I'm just saying.... who thinks a picture like this will sell the house? |
 The downside is that we feel crowded (I know we are spoiled). Although it’s a house sans vie sa vie (without people being able to see in our house or in our garden from the other houses around us) we can see all the houses from our house and our garden. Not quite the freedom look we have at the moment.
But it could work.
The other downside is that the house doesn’t have a basement. But it has a garage with a loft so enough space to store things. We do miss a back-door. The only door that leads into the garden is through, what would be, our guest room.
After a second viewing, with the boys and Mark’s parents, we decide to put in an offer. As this house is for sale without an estate- agent this happens around the coffee table in the house.
But
Her jaw drops.
Her face turns pale.
It seems like we almost gave her a heart attack.
Yes, we did came in low, but we didn’t want to play all our cards immediately.
We wanted to have room left for negotiation and did have a certain about in our heads that we would be willing to pay for the house. But the offer is not good enough.
And the couple decides that they don’t want to consider it.
And then…
We change our minds.
After living in our dream house we are well aware that a house is much more than just a building. We don’t want to settle for a ‘it will do house’. We would like to find our second dream house. Let’s wait and see what the Lord will do…
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When you’re in the files of estate-agents it’s hard to get out.
A nice man, with a big mustache, calls us to show us another property.
He’s very enthusiastic about the house and he’s totally right. 
We love the house from the outside.
It’s close to the villagecentre. But it’s again above our budget and even with negotiation we are not sure we want to buy at that price.
This estate-agent makes us wear shoe-socks around our shoes to keep the house clean.
It’s the first French house that we see which is clean and proper on the inside. Everything is painted lovely. Not to our taste but it is impeccable, as the estate agent says. The sous-sol (the cellar but covering the whole underneath of the house) is great with an extra room.
The out-side though… is very small. So small that when the boys with jump on the trampoline and fall of… the would fall straight in our table.
Yes, it’s nice. But again not for us… In our best French we try to tell the man that he did a good job finding the house for us. But that we feel the garden is too small.
He grumbles and asks us what we want! Because the other house he had shown us the garden was too big. So… what do we want… We smile and say that surely there must be something in between 2500 m2 and 300m2. We haven’t heard back from him since… |
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It’s been months now, since we’ve seriously started looking for a house. Our landlords have, very kindly, agreed on a year extension on our contract but it’s time to look And so we are looking!
It’s been many years since we’ve owned a house. And we’ve never owned one abroad.
It’s kind of playing a game without really knowing the rules. And that makes it hard and sometimes unexpected.
We miss (for the Dutch readers) FUNDA. It’s a site where you can find all of the houses that are for sale in Holland on. It makes life very easy.Dutch estate agents make great pictures of the houses. Descriptions and sizes are all measured and shown. No surprises when you view a house.
But here, things work very differently.
For one, the house prices for the same house are different with every estate agent. And so are the photos.
Maybe this has to be 1 b, cause I forgot to tell that a property owner can put his house for sale with as many estate agents as he likes.
The estate- agents don’t have the key for the house and the property owner is mostly there while we’re viewing. Thank God for the Dutch language to commend.
 Photos of the houses are not very clear. And many times pictures are missing. Bathrooms and kitchens are very often not shown and that makes it quite difficult to get a good idea of a house. The other thing is that the name of the road is not shown in the add.
Most of the time we just know the town we’re going to view a house in, nothing else. It makes it all very complicated for foreigners like us.
But we have to find a house…. And so we’re bravely doing our job.  The top- end of the budget makes we’re seeing this house. After spending hours on google-maps to see where it was situated we decided to phone the estate agent. And made an appointment to have a viewing. This as somewhere back in October.
The house was situated on a busy road without any neighbors. The 2500 square meter garden contained 8 fruit trees and about 1500 square meter vegetable garden. The house had just 4 bedrooms but 5 (yes it’s not a typing error) garages. But because of the top end of the budget we wouldn’t have the money to convert one of them into a very much needed guest area. The inside of the house just didn't appeal too us. Maybe it was because of the blue and yellow rooms and the conservatory I just never seem to like.
And… One of the garages contained a cool-room…. With 2 death, hanging, pheasants.
No…. this was not the house for us!
So the story needs to be continued.
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I know it has been ages…. And I’m sorry.
Life just passes by without too much to write about.
Christmas and New Year passed by in the company of lovely family and friends.
It was the first time we stayed in France.
It was our first art- exhibition ever but we enjoyed it both very much. And then….
There’s not much left to say for today.
But: Did you know the Dutch are very complicated?
We live not in Dutchland (like somebody said to me once) but the Netherlands. Although most foreigners call our country Holland. But then we speak Dutch and we our nationality is Dutch. It makes it hard to explain, cause we don’t even understand why.
And then:
Did you know there is a American expression that says: “Let’s go Dutch”
It means you both pay for your own meal…
Quite funny!
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I haven't written this post but saw it on the internet. And as we are driven off to the Netherlands too tomorrow to celebrate Sinterklaas I thougt you might like to know what we are doing :) Well kind of... because of course only the Dutch will really understand....
No. 36: Sinterklaas You’ve seen the imagery all over town: that old dude with white hair and the big pointed red hat. You know those pesky black-faced fellas he hangs out with. The ones who’ve whipped pepernoten at your head. You’ve joined in the heated Zwarte Piet debate. And you’ve eaten your chocolate initial at work. BUT what really is the deal with this whole Sinterklaas thing? Basically, all you need to know is that Sinterklaas is the most beloved of all Dutch holidays and traditions. And one, Dutch people are fiercely proud of. Don’t you dare go messing about with this very gezellig affair! Check out our handy guide below to help you survive the madness.
Everything you need to know about Sinterklaas: Q: Where does this old dude and his black-faced friends come from?
A: Sinterklaas is said to have originated from St. Nicolaus, the Bishop of Mira, who lived in Turkey in the 3rd century. According to the legend, he saved the town from starvation, revived a couple of dead children, and offered gifts of dowries to poor girls so they didn’t have to become prostitues. Hence, a pretty saintly dude. Q: How does he get to the lowlands?
A: Nowadays, he sails in from Spain on a boat in late November and rides about the town on a white horse named Amerigo (don’t ask) with a handful of black-faced friends who throw things at people. Q: Huh? Who are these black guys? Bodyguards? Elves?
A: These friends, Zwarte Piets, are Sint‘s mischievous helpers and they can be seen through town violently whipping hard-stone like cookies (aka: pepernoten) at children and passerby’s. Duck! Q: I don’t get it. Why are their faces painted black?
A: Please. Save yourself the trouble and don’t go asking this question in your Dutch workplace. You won’t make any friends. You can speak your mind here. Q: Wait. Am I allowed to say anything critical about the Sinterklaas tradition?
A: No. Q: Ok…back to the basics then. When is it officially celebrated?
A: Get out your Dutch-people agendas! Although he makes his first appearance mid- November,Sinterklaas doesn’t get into the full swing of things until December 5th. Q: This is the poem and presents stuff right?
A: Yeppers. On the eve of the 5th (pakjesavond) children place their shoes by the fireplace (although hardly any Dutch homes have them), by the radiator (how the heck do the presents get through that?) or by the door (for the brighter Dutch children) and eagerly await their presents.
Q: What do they get?
A: Back in more modest times, presents consisted of mandarin oranges, chocolate letters (the initial of your first name), chocolate coins or marzipan figures. Surprisingly, no Dutch licorice or dairy!Nowadays, full fledged gift giving is in effect with the average Dutch home spending upwards of 130 EUR on presents. Q: Why did my boss write me a sarcastic poem?
A: Adults get into full swing by writing witty poems to poke fun (or publicly chastise) their family or friends and often accompanied by a gift exchange (similar to a “Secret Santa“). The poems are often funny and of course, involve Dutch directness! Q: This whole Sinterklaas dude seems pretty familiar. Are you saying the Dutch invented the North American Santa Claus?
A: Closely related Sinterklaas figures are celebrated in Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Belgium as well as French Flanders. Scandinavian folklore has a “nisse” character who is pretty similar. Santa Claus is thought to be a combination of Sinterklaas and the British Father Christmas. Phew! That should cover the basics! Now go out, eat some pepernoten, speculaas, andkruidnoten, write some poems, buy some presents, paint your face black and join in the fun! Easy enough, eh? 
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Tonight we are experiencing another ‘first’ in our abroad-career.
We’re trying to sell a car.
I think this has been the first car we ever sold.
O, no… how can I forget my lovely rusty English white Volkswagen Golf. The car that gave me freedom!
All the other ones though, were driven until they couldn’t go any further.
Our Peugot 309 broke down during our honeymoon.
Our Fiat Panda on one of the motorways in Holland. (driven by me)
Our Swift on one another motorway, also driven by me.
Coincidently, obviously….
I can’t remember what happened to our English Vauxhall Vectra. Although I do remember I had nothing to do with it…
And then our Vauxhall Astra arrived. Just before Tim was born.
The joys of a station-wagon are immense. Especially if you live abroad.
Hurray for shopping in Holland! The car was always packed full driving back home.
But the teller had miles and miles on it. I think around 190 000 miles. (Does that seem right?)
And so we thought, in the beginning of the year, that it was a good idea to orientate on another car.
The Vectra might break down at a motorway (NOT driven by me…) and we didn’t really wanted to buy another car in just 2 days.
So Mark had a look, compared, had another look, I made a comment that one of the cars looked like a biscuit-tin, Mark had another look. Compared some more. I mentioned again that a red car would be nice. (It’s an inside joke. I would like to be the owner of a red car since we’re married. But Mark always replies very kindly to me that he’s not going to buy a car on the colour. So we never had one yet… Still worth to be mentioned once in a while, at least I think)
Anyway, we’re months down the road when Mark is still comparing. By this time I don’t care if we buy a yellow car with purple spots. So when the right car happens to be at the dealer in Chantilly I want to buy it immediately. It takes 3 more days but after that we are the proud owners of a black Mazda 5. That happened in June. We’re still the proud owners of a Mazda 5 with a bit more scratches than in June. Thoroughly enjoying the car though!
Anyway, the right-hand drive Vauxhall Astra didn’t sell. Much to Mark’s surprise.
And for the MOT (APK in Dutch) there were to many things to be done.
So we wanted to get rid of the car.
I don’t know a lot about cars. If they don’t drive they’re kind of useless in my opinion. But Mark thinks we can sell it for parts.
At the moment we have 4 cars in our drive (it’s a whole other story and one of them is not ours) so after the Vauxhall stood there for about 2 weeks we decided this afternoon that we would put it on the French kind of ebay site.
2 hours later we got a phonecall. The man wants to pick it up at 7.30 pm. We are surprised. But the rest of the evening the phone keeps ringing. Every time we think: “ We should have asked for more”…
Anyway.
7.30 pm is delayed until 8.30 pm.
The man wants to buy a new battery for the car.
By 9.00 we text-message the man that we’re waiting.
It’s pitch dark by this time and Mark has to work at 5 in the morning.
He will be there in a sec.
We know you can always count on the French time wise but at 9.30 we feel it’s getting a bit ridiculous.
Of course our house is hard to find and so on, and so forth, but still…
Mark’s cell-phone keeps ringing with people who are interested.
Finally, at 9.43 the people arrive.
Right now it’s 10.10pm.
I can hear the car doors slam. The deal is made. The car is sold!
We still should have asked for more… and maybe made the appointment later.
Only 6 more hours of sleep left. |
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I’m scared. Gosh, I’m so scared.
I knew in my heart for weeks already that I had to do this. But I waited and waited. And now this was my only change left.
After I sprained my ankle I was told I had to go to physiotherapy
And I did.
When we finally found one, it turned out to be quite close to our house.
I met de physiotherapist, a girl somewhere in here twenties and saw her for 15 sessions.
That means I spook 15x 30 minutes French with her. And although it doesn’t go very quickly we got to know each other a little bit.
But today is my last session.Today is the last time I could mention God or Jesus. Today is the last change I could give her a bible.
Today was the last day I had a chance to speak about God or Jesus.
And I did.
I prayed before the session and He got mentioned. She started to talk about Christmas. And I gladly joined her and mentioned baby Jesus.
Then we talked about ThanksGiving, that we will celebrate tomorrow.
And then, I gave her a French bible.
With little notes inside.
With scripture verses written down and a thank you note on the front page.
I was still scared.
So I wrapped the bible in lovely wrapping paper.
I tied a lovely ribbon around it.
And I told her, she wasn’t allowed to open it until she was at home (Told you I was scared)
But, I did it!
And the rest is up to GOD! Let’s hope it doesn’t involve another sprained ankle |
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I’m learning a language. I’m learning a language from another language that is not my own.
And if I would learn the language from my own language: you would catch me at my worst subject anyway.
I’m learning French.
French grammar.
But I’m learning English grammar too.
Something I can’t remember I ever had before. Yes I know when I have to say: “I’m going to…” or “I will be…”
But I have no idea about the why I’m using that at that moment.
And in Dutch I’m not much better, grammar wise.
So every week, twice a week, I’m going to my French class.
To study the present time, the future time, the passé compose time, the infinitive time and all the other times the French thought were necessary. Getting it explained in English. Hearing words I never heard before. I have no clue when to use what time.
So for the moment I’m still trying.
And I’m getting there.
J’ y arrive.
Some day.
I hope. |
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 It has been a long summer holiday. Full of fun and laughter.
But September has arrived again. And as the leaves in our garden start to turn from a dark green to yellow it’s time for the boys to go back to school. Tim has talked about it all summer long.
I’m going to school in a castle.
They’ve seen it being renovated.
And now it’s ready.
Ready for over a 100 kids to move in.
Joas has gone to year 3 in the English system. CE1 in French.
His teacher is called mr Reagan. The same one as last year. Next to him (not yet in the pictures) is a Dutch girl called Charlotte. Together they have fun speaking their secret language, that all the other kids don’t get.
Every morning Joas walks up the large staircase (sound of music like) to the top-floor where his class is. Tim is one floor down.
He has started Reception. Grand Section in French.
He has a class with just 9 kids. 5 of them are boys.
One of the girls is the sister of Charlotte who is in Joas’ class.
It was fun to hear that the teacher Martina thought the whole Monday Tim and Juliette were twins. Just because they have the same blond hair and both speak Dutch.
They only met that morning. Every morning we get the bikes out to cycle the 1,5 km down our road.
Tim absolutely loves that part.
But he told me that he doesn’t like this school (although he goes with fun and laughter) because they had to do three times travaille (work) J Yes, grand section has arrived for our 5 year old!
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It has been one of the topics on our minds over the last couple of months.
Our house.
After a talk with our landlords in the beginning of March we thought we couldn’t afford the house. But the never actually said the price they wanted to have for it.
We looked around. Saw a couple of houses. And found out that the small houses in this area are actually, considering everything, far more expensive then the bigger ones.
So we started to doubt again.
Maybe we just had to buy our house.
It’s a good house. With good opportunities. And the only downside we could really think of was that it’s too expensive. Which obviously is an important one. And so we planned a lovely evening with our landlords again.
And we heard there price.
And….
We found out that there is no way we can buy the house. And… We are at peace.
The landlords have been very nice to us. They don’t want to kick us out. Our contract ends in March next year. But if we haven’t found a good house yet we can stay for up to another year.
And that’s a miracle in itself. |
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We still enjoy our house everyday. Although it doesn’t look like we are able to buy it any time soon.
But we can stay here for some more time.
And we plan to enjoy that time to the fullest.
We.
But not our neighbours.
Our neighbours on the left hand side of our house are a little bit strange.
We knew that from the start.
But still We never talked to them.
We hardly know who they are.
They built a concrete wall at the end of their garden next to the road.
When we ring the bell nobody opens the door. But we hear him grumble at the other side of the hedge when our kids ring their bike-bells.
We hear him call nasty words when we cut the hedge with electric cutter or weed the weeds with the electric tool.
We know our landlady arrived at our place an hour after Mark started to build a compost bin next to his fence, because the neighbour phoned her. Mark just says: “He bought a house next to a pre-school. He could have figured out people with young kids would come and live in the houses next to him. And kids make noise. Including ours.
But then there are the complaints.
Anonymous .
But still complaints.
In December we received a note in our letterbox that our dog was constantly walking through the neighbourhood. Our dog was. The neighbour was absolutely right.
We just didn’t have a plan of action yet. First, our dog Leon, escaped only when we’d already left the property. But now he escaped immediately when we opened the front-door.
Zoom.. and he was gone. After much consideration we decided to train Leon with an electric fence around our garden.
Leon learned quickly and doesn’t come near the fence anymore.
In April we mowed the lawn on a sunny Wednesday at the beginning of the afternoon. I think it was between 12 and 1.
We started in the morning and just wanted to finish the job. At 2 o’clock we receive a letter in our letterbox with the restricted times on it when we can mow the lawn in our village. The times were highlighted but the note was, obviously, anonymous. Handy! said Mark, as we had lost the note with the times on it.
I felt like the steam came out of my ears.
And last Wednesday we got another note saying: Vos chiens ne cessent pas d’aboyer
La région était paisible avant votre arrivée
Nous souhaitons qu’elle le demeure It means something like :
Your dogs don’t stop barking.
The area was peaceful before you arrived.
We wished it would have stayed that way. Yes, the reverend and his wife had asked us if we could watch their dog for 5 days.
Ellie, a white Labrador, arrived on Sunday afternoon.
As she is trained to bark when she wants to go inside she barked a lot.
Because we’re used to leaving Leon into the garden until we let him in again.
And so we got into a little fight with her…
And when we were all in the garden Leon and Ellie had a couple of ‘who’s the boss’ fights between each other. And that’s when you have to bark… being a dog.
But still.
I wish the neighbor would just have knocked at our gate and asked us.
Then we could have told him that we were as annoyed with Ellie's behavior as he was. But we also could have told him the great fact that she would leave again at the end of the week.
Just as we could have told him that we were busy figuring out a plan for Leon escaping.
And that we’d just forgotten the time when we were mowing the lawn. I wish it would be as simple as that…. Maybe it’s best if we just move, because our landlord says we just have to learn to live with it…. |
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What would it have been like to walk through the streets and stop at one of the beggars. What would it have been like to say: silver or gold have I not, but such as I have give I you?
If I would say: “ In Jesus name, stand up!” would that happen?
Is my faith that strong? In Him? In the fact that He could work through me?
And so I walk on. Leaving the beggar behind me.
But walking through the streets of Paris, I can’t get him out of my head. It's a dark- skinned man. A long black beard. Heavily supported by his walking stick. With trembling legs.
But what would it have been like if…
There are reasons enough to not go to him. For one my French level is at toddler-stage. I really have no idea how to say: “In Jesus name be healed and stand up” in French.
Would I have to touch him if I dare to say it? What about all the bacterias on his coat?
Where would he have slept last night?
But what would it have been like if…
The man talks in French. His head is bent down. People walk past him. Ignoring him totally. Pretending like they don’t see him. Would it matter if I prayed for him in Dutch, English or French?
Would it matter it the person you prayed for had no idea what you were talking about?
But what would it have been like if…
I didn’t really have anything to lose.
The only thing that could have happened was dirty hands and a non- healed beggar.
He probably would have thought: “What an idiot?!”
And life would have gone on as normal.
But what would it have been like if…
I would have prayed for him.
His walking stick would have fallen on the ground.
If he would have walked straight to the Seine…. (to wash himself :))
If His life would have been changed because of one prayer? Because, the great news really is so big that it can turn somebodies life around.
I just had to let him know…
What would it have been like if…
I’ll never know.
My prayer stayed with me.
My faith stayed in my heart. And the beggar probably still stands there, with his trembling legs. His head bent down. All of that; Just because
I didn’t dare. I didn’t dare trusting HIM. Who’s bigger than anything else.
What would it have been like if… |
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We live in quite an amazing city. With quite a lot to do.
The last couple of weeks have seen a lot of activities in and around the hippodrome.
Big horseraces happened while lots and lots of people cheered the jockeys on. As it was such a great happening, and because we had free tickets, we decided to go.
The big race of the day started at 3 pm.
Well, it’s still France so it was more like 3.30. But anyway…
The big screens showed us the horses with their jockeys on them.
We picked one.
The red one.
For no particular reason.
We just liked the colour of his jacket.
Then the race started. At the other side of the hippodrome ground. Big screens showed the running horses. Closer and closer they came.
But in the 2nd row of the standing crowd we still couldn’t see much.
Our boys had great places on their dad’s and a friends shoulders .
And then it happened.
In a few seconds the red one passed all the other horses.
We cheered and cheered.
And he came 1st.
Dommage! We didn’t take a bet on it….
It started raining.
And really it was just a lot of waiting in between the races. And so we went home. At least we thought we would go home. It proved much harder than we thought. Most of the roads in Chantilly were blocked off by gates and policeman. Every time they signed us that we had to go another way. And we ended up at the other side of Chantilly.
Ok. Full 180 turn at the roundabout.
Back into the main center.
Pff…
We can go right at the traffic light.
But Rue Victor Hugo, the only road that leads to our house is blocked.
Again by policemen and gates…
In my best French I tell him that I really have to go into that road because I live there.
I can see on his face that he has no idea where Chemin des Aigles is.
But he waves that I’m allowed to go in…
Well…. That was an adventure coming home.
We never have had to go through so much trouble before.
But this weekend we stayed at home.
As 25.000 people were attending the feux de Chantilly.
A firework display which is once every two years. It was raining anyway….
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A couple of months ago I told you the story of a women and the little baby in her tummy.
The miracle baby and the contractions that started far too early in the pregnancy.
And the fact that this baby was due on the 1st of June 2011
You can read it here.
God has such humour. The baby was late. Not ridiculously late. But 2 days.
I would like you to meet….Amèlie Sophie Tessyman. Born on the 3rd of June 2011.
She's ALIVE. She's healthy. And she is gorgeous!
And she’s proof of the fact that we have a living God. Who listens to our prayers. And answers!
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Tuesday May 3th
Time to pack our bags.
It’s almost over. 10 Days in Uganda.
And really we’re not done yet.
There so many other things to do… But we just don’t have the time.
It really is time to pack our bags…
The last day is a day of saying goodbye.
Seeing some last things.
Helping with some bits and bobs we know about computers and making a power-point presentation.
The Verboom- kids are again at school.
Our kids keep asking when they will come home.
We pack. We close our bags. We say the things we still wanted to say.
And we just have a lovely day with two families.
Tomorrow will be an early morning. The taxi will pick us up at 6. (well it will be 6.30 in the end. We are still in Africa….)
Some tears are shed the next morning.
The boys say goodbye to eachother.
They know they will see eachother soon again.
In France. At our place!
Just 8 more weeks to wait.
The flight back is fine.
It’s a day flight. So we watch movies, read books and play games.
Joas and Tim can’t wait to see our dog Leon again.
The sun is going under when we arrive back at our home.
The adventure was great….
But in the end it was and always will be: home sweet home! |
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Monday morning May 2nd.
Flying with MAF
The Verboom-kids holiday is over.
Time to go back to school.
But it’s an early morning for us too. Mark, Joas & Tim get up early together with Martijn to drive to Kajansi airport, just outside of Kampala. That is the home base of MAF Uganda and we’re hoping to catch a flight today.
The whole plan was sure until we received a text message yesterday evening that a few people cancelled their booking and, as a result, they were using 1 instead of 2 planes. So, hoping things will work out we head off to the airport.
 Annemieke stays in bed as her stomach is not very fond of travelling in small planes… She will be able to follow our progress however as Marieke is doing the flight following today and will be in contact with the pilot over the radio.Unfortunately the aircraft is too heavy loaded for Martijn to come along, but they manage to squeeze us on. Tim is in tears as he doesn’t want to go in the small plane and he wants to go home to mummy, but I insist and drag him into the plane. This is an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
After running all the checks and completing the checklist (including the item “pray”!) we take off with a full aircraft heading towards Moroto, a town in the north-east of Uganda. We’ve been able to get onto the shuttle flight which MAF operates to Northern Uganda a couple of times a week. The flight brings people from mission organizations, aid agencies, pastors and freight to remote places which are otherwise very difficult to reach, especially in the rainy season. There a quite a few airfields the shuttle can fly to in Northern Uganda, but today there are 4 airfields where we need to drop off/pick up pasangers. The route is Kajansi-Moroto-Kotido-Kabong-Pader-Kajansi.  | | You won't be able to find Kabong on here |
Tim stops crying after 20 minutes and I don’t see anything but smiles from him for the rest of the day. It’s fascinating to see this totally different side of aviation. No air traffic control, instrument landing systems, long paved runways and ground personnel to help. The longest flight in 1:25 and the boys are starting to get bored. Luckily I have some games on my phone which keeps them busy. After having overflown Moroto to make sure there is nobody on the strip we land.
A quick toilet stop for us as the pilot unloads the baggage, says goodbye to some passengers leaving us and welcomes new passangers. Next stop is Kotido which is pretty much of the same. Apart from the airstrip there is nothing there. Just a few 4x4s and a group of interested African adults and children await us. Starting the engines is a challenge as the African kids are far too interested and don’t want to stand back. Once the engine comes to life they give themselves a good distance though. As we takeoff I see some goats scurrying away and we’re airborne again, this time for Kabong.  | | No, this is not Club Med! |
Kabong is a so called “C-strip”. That means the pilots need specific training to land there. The runway is actually a straight part of a road which is just wide enough to make a 180 degrees turn on with our Cessna Grand Caravan. Apart from being very narrow the approach can also be very turbulent as there are lots of big rocks in the area. The pilots affectionately call the airstrip “Kaboem” J. The approach is not turbulent today and as we land I notice that the is not really an end to this “runway”, but that the road just gets a bit less wide and that is where the runway ends… One car awaits us at this strip which is really in the middle of nowhere. We don’t even see any African kids looking at this strange machine which flies like a bird. The last stop is Pader. Quite a wide and big strip, but as we approach the runway we see a group of goats not wanting to move off the runway. We make a low pass a couple of meters over their heads and they dash away. As there is hardly any wind we can land in both directions, so we make a 180 degree turn in the air and quickly land the aircraft before the goats decide to return.
Tim really needs to go to the toilet so we dash off to some trees. The big group of African kids breaks out in laughter as Tim pulls down his pants and they get to see a really white bottom…  During the day the kids got to sit up front with the pilot. Touch the controls and ask loads of questions. The biggest treat however was to be able to speak to mummy and Marieke who were back in Kampala listening to the radio. Last flight of a long day I get into the right hand seat of the Caravan and we head back to Kajansi. The kids are ready to give mum a hug climb up into their tree house and play with the Verboom-kids… But what an experience!
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Sunday late- afternoon May 1st
A fruit of the sausage-tree and the dogs.
The boys are absolutely mad about the Verboom-dogs.
One is called Jisca. The other one Lucky.
In Murchison-Falls and really everywhere around Africa you can find these massive tree’s called sausage trees.
The fruit are not eatable for humans although the Africans make among else, beer out of them.
But the guide on the Nile- boat told the kids a story about drunk- elephants.
Apparently the fruits get alcoholic when they grow too long on the tree. But of course the elephants don’t know the difference between the good and the bad onces and so they get a little drunk too.
The thought about drunken dogs brings smiles to the boys’ faces. So they decide to bring one of the fruits back home for the dogs.
They imagine and make fun over it in the car on the way home....
How would Lucky walk? Does a drunken dog still walk straight? Would he fall?
Unfortunately the dogs are not very interested… And so the fruit of the sausage tree ends up in the bin.
And the dogs are still walking straight… |
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Sunday afternoon May 1st
Lions
We didn’t see lions.
3,5 Years ago when we went on a safari in Tanzania we didn’t see them.
And now, we missed them again!
But; thank God for zoo’s.
We’re on our way to Entebbe zoo.
To see the Lions.
Finally.
Entebbe Zoo is small and not cheap.
The entry fees are quite interesting also.
Entry Fees: East African Adults | $3 | East African Children | $2 | Rest of Africa Community | $4 | Foreign Resident Adults | $7 | Foreign Resident Kids | $3 | Foreign Non-Resident Adults | $10 |
**Please note that rates are subject to change depending on the world economic situation I think this would be called discrimination in our world. But anyway….
Unfortunately we’re in the top end.
The kids run around while the monkeys jumped around them.
The ride on a camel and on a donkey.
We see the amazing ancient-looking bird called Shoebill.
The chimps are hiding.
One of the monkeys escaped out of it’s cage.
The crocodile hardly has any water.
But the bird next to the rhino gets some splashes of the a nearby waterfall.
And the lions are not very awake.
Yes, the zoo in Africa is and interesting experience.
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Sunday morning May 1st
Throwing stones.
After a good night sleep and a nice breakfast we find ourselves on the way to a little village somewhere at the edge of Lake Victoria.
Kampala International Church has there church- weekend.
And we’re going for the Sunday morning service.
It’s amazing to sit and worship next to my best friends. It makes me feel so thankful and rich.
Over the last couple of week al the teaching’s we’ve gone to seem to be about Jesus in the boat. (Luke 11 but also in Matthew 8) That’s quite amazing as we attended services in the Netherlands, in France and now in Uganda.
Maybe God want to show us something?
I love the fact that Jesus went into the boat without telling the disciples where they were going.
They just had to go and trust. I just have to go sometimes.
Jesus went into the boat because he knew 2 people across the lake needed him.
And so He went. Just to heal those two.
From out of those two just one did what Jesus said. “Go and tell everyone”. But from that one the whole area was told about Jesus. So when He came back they all were prepared.
It really isn’t about numbers. ..
The end of the garden reaches Lake Victoria.
The speaker invites us to pray, pick up a stone and throw something that’s burdening us in the lake. Stones are picked- up.
Stones are thrown. And with the stones leaving ship, it leaves more places to invite Jesus in.
It’s always easier in the boat with Him.
I really should try to call for help before I get stuck.
He promised he would help me.
And you. |
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Saturday evening april 30th
Lightning!
The view from the Verboom- house seems to be endless.
Even when the darkness falls the lights are everywhere.
Kampala seems to never be asleep. Not even in the middle of the night.
The kids are in bed. Darkness has fallen once again.
We settle ourselves down with a nice cup of tea on the porch.
Martijn tells us that there are always thunderstorms around this area. With the mountains and lakes surrounding Kampala the air is just right to create them. And so we see the amazing beauty of God’s creation in the sky.
(Obviously it was more impressive sitting on the porch.)
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Almost home on Saturday the 30th of April
Uganda speciality
There not a lot of nice specialities in Uganda. So we didn’t eat a lot of Ugandan food.
But on the way back home one of the street sellers sells a bag of fried grasshoppers.
Martijn says they’re really not that bad.
And so we tried.
And they really weren’t that bad….
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Saturdayevening April 30th
Somewhere in the middle of Kampala.
The girl at the other side of the road.
Our trip to Africa really was to show our boys that there’s more to the world then just Chantilly. With big houses and rich people. With toys piling up in the playroom. And all the kids who go to school. We wanted to show them real life… And we’re so glad the following happened….
It’s the end of the afternoon when we finally, after an almost 10 hour trip with 5 kids in the car, reach Kampala.
It’s busy in town. Paris is busy with cars. But Kampala is too. And probably even more chaotic.
Slowly we drive further. On the right side of the car street sellerss gather. They try to sell all kinds of stuff to Martijn. Brooms, passionfruits, phone credit, world maps…
But Joas’ eye catches the sight of a small child on the other side of the road.
It's not very clear to see if it’s a boy or a girl. But Marieke thinks it’s a girl.
She might be four years old. Her head has been shaved. But even on her black skin we can see the dirt on her.
Her green, almost pyjama looking, have seen better times.
Her eyes catch our car. And we can see the longing in her eyes.
“Look mummy, says Joas, everybody just passes her. “ Nobody really sees her.
The tears are in his eyes.
Fancy people pass her. Ignoring the small hand she’s holding up.
Our eyes look with longing to the little girl.
Marieke warns us that we can’t call her. She might cross the street without paying attention to anything else that’s happening around her. She might be caught by a car.
And so we look. Without being able to do anything.
The tears are running down my cheeks while I try to say something to Joas. Something that gives him hope. “Maybe her mummy is around the corner trying to earn some money I tell him.
But in my heart I know that won’t be the case.
This girl is totally alone. Alone in the world. And while we slowly driving further we hand out a package of biscuits to another lonely girl.
Her eyes are glowing. But I look over my shoulder.
The little girl is still standing at the same spot.
Who knows for how long?
When is she going to disappear into the big city?
I feel sad. Because there is really nothing we can do… |
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