The decor was ‘French’ in a string-of-onions-round-the-neck-’allo-’allo kind of way, but it proved quite effective, I no longer felt I was in Amsterdam.

The menu was chalked on a black board on the wall. It was mostly self-explanatory (if you read French), but the jovial French owner dropped by to explain it all anyway, in lovely Dutch and Franglish even for our mixed company.

A quick glance told me I was never going to find anything on it that would fit my current calorie-limited diet, so to hell with it for once.

I was very tempted by the duck, but I decided to go against my usual choices and picked the Sanglier en Daube (wild boar stew) for my main coarse and three-way Foie Gras en Brioche for a starter.

I’ve had tiny bits of Foie Gras before, but never a complete dish based on it. I’m always tempted as I am very keen of liver of any kind, but generally decide against it out of health or financial reasons.

I could tell after the first few bites that I’m really not used to that kind of fattiness in my food anymore. It’s absolutely gorgeous, but just a bit too much for me now. The Foie Gras came three ways: plain, mousse and a large slice caramelised as if it were a flan. The brioche was soft and fluffy and I used it to spoon the mousse on top. There was a sweetness to the dish that lingered, from the caramelised foie gras and the dressing on the accompanying salad.

The wild boar, the meat covered in a rich dark brown sauce, had a sweet touch too, I found a sizeable piece of pear in the stew. I loved it, it’s great comfort food in these cold wintery days, but I will probably pick something more dainty off the menu next time. Once my system has recovered from the cream, butter and sugar onslaught, that is.

The house wine was good, but after the first few glasses my colleague picked something else from the list that was even better. I can’t remember what it was, but it tasted lovely, rich and syrupy. (I’m told it was ‘Château Sainte-Béatrice’)

We rounded off our dinner sharing a few (rather safe) cheese platters and coffee.

I think the food at Le Petit Latin is old fashioned and that’s a compliment. It’s pretty hard to find well executed classic cooking, and in such a pleasant, relaxed environment too. Best of all is the service. Positively un-Dutch. That too is a compliment.

Le Petit Latin, Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal 306, 1012 RV, Amsterdam

A new job would be a kind of change. I’ve thought about it and have actually ventured out there and tried my luck, but the experience taught me that it’s not all bad where I am at the moment. In fact it’s pretty good. Pretty cool colleagues (although the age difference is starting to smart), smack in the eye of the web/tv/radio digital hurricane, excellent work agreement, ok pay. It’s the commuting that takes it out of me, the crowded trains, the daily loss of 2 hours… Honestly, workers should get paid for their travel time. But even commuting isn’t all bad – it gives me time to read, if I don’t fall asleep before I turn the page.

The ‘monumental’ hinted at my living quarters: I seriously want to renovate the house. And by renovate I mean turn it inside out: move the kitchen, move/build a proper bathroom, extend the bedroom. Problem: it costs serious money, which I don’t have. I would have to look into a loan. And find a builder. And someone to draw the plan. And then live with strangers about the house for weeks. All this scares me, I don’t know where to start.

I’ve thought about going back to school. I’d like to get into university, work on my non-existent academic brain. Since I don’t have the right diploma to go to university, I would have to do what’s called a ‘colloquium doctum’: an extry exam. The course I am interested in is Art History, for which three ‘O level’ exams are required: Dutch, English, and a history test based on one (1!) book. Heh. Fingers, meet nose.

So, getting in wouldn’t be too hard, it’s staying put that poses the problem. I know I couldn’t hack it with a full time job, I simply haven’t got the energy. Also – I’ve got the concentration span of an amoeba, so unless the teacher’s gifted, I zone out.

Still, I’m keen on educating myself about art, so I enquired what the current standard text book is for students of art history. Apparently Janson’s History of Art is it. Amazon had it for 25 euro less than in the shop. I’m stacking up on the Oxford History of Art publications, starting with ‘After modern art 1945-2000′ I also picked up Rudi Fuchs’s ‘Painting in the Netherlands’.

Reading more doesn’t constitute change, but it’ll keep me from worrying about it.

I’m not sure what exactly they’re going on strike for, but I’ll wager it’s mostly about money. Apparently they only make TWICE AS MUCH as their Belgian colleagues and it isn’t enough.

Damnit, if I made 97.000 EURO A YEAR, I wouldn’t have time to lay down work. I’d be too busy SPENDING IT on good (artery clogging) food and an endless array of sexy gadgets.

They must go back to work RIGHT NOW, because I seem to be suffering from a bad case of Dooce-itus.

It is not mostly about money. It is about insurance companies getting way too much power. No more “beroepsgeheim” every temporary employee at the insurance company will have access to your medical history. And about the not being able to provide a reasonable level of care if they have too many patients and only five minutes per appointment.
You cannot compare the Dutch and Belgian salaries, mostly because it is not a salary. Doctors are entrepreneurs, they have a lot of costs an employee does not have. In Belgium a GP does not have to pay an assistant, for example (Belgian GPs do not have assistants).
I understand it sucks for you though. On the other hand: I would not give too much value to a GP’s dietary advice. It is unfortunately my experience that quite a lot of GP’s think they know a lot about nutrition whereas they actually really don’t. Maybe http://www.diabetes-normalsugars.com/ is useful.
Sterkte.
lena – 27 May 2005 – 13:56

Thanks for your explanation.
Caroline (link) – 27 May 2005 – 14:11

1. I met a guy that I sort of liked. This is rare. I have lots of lovely male friends but I hardly ever meet any that I ‘like’ like. I don’t know, I’m picky? The odd thing was this guy didn’t ignore me like guys I ‘like’ like usually do and we spent quite a while talking. Twice. And he started it. And we would have talked longer if his majesty hadn’t interrupted. And, kids, hold on to your hats: I asked for and got his number. I have no idea what I was on.

2. On the tram the other night, the guard winked at me and just pretended to stamp my ticket. A free ride! This is surreal for someone who usually gets very annoyed with tram guards flirting with people who are in front of them, and then is completely ignored or scowled at herself.

Also, at the aftershow the other night, despite doing my best impression of a wallflower, people kept coming up to me to talk to me.

It must be the haircut. At least four colleagues commented on it today as well, which they don’t usually do.

I’ll have to send Monique, who cuts my hair, a Christmas card.

Some get married, others part. It is, will always be, an emotional time. (qt)

More nastiness: we just read a police message on Teletext that gave me and my colleagues a bit of a shock. Someone we work with (in a related company here on Mediapark) went missing a week ago, on her way to work — a route some of us travel daily.

Holland woke up to find the world covered in a 20 cm blanket of snow. I shuffled and slipped and hopped on a metro for a reasonably easy trip to Duivendrecht, only to find the trains indefinitely delayed.

45 minutes later and no sign of normal schedules resuming, mobile contact confirmed most of my colleagues similarly stranded.

Well, here it is. After weeks of ‘does it, does it not dispense the goods’ one of our colleagues has finally coaxed a ‘Verdura’ from the hellish machine.

The verdict: “Hmm, yeah, edible.”