Yes you heard that right. I hate marathon training.

I hate the demands of running 4x a week even (and especially) when you’re not in the mood. I hate the long distance runs after more than 21 kilometers. I especially hate interval trainings. Oh god how they kill me.

It gets tiring to wake up at 5:30 in the morning to stack up on mileage particularly when it’s freaking -4 degrees outside with freezing rain. Or running against a wind of 50km/hr (believe it can last for days in Holland). I don’t weigh more than 55 kilos. The wind can literally blow me away.

I hate the sound of my GPS watch when running. Or the information that it gives me. I feel like being forced to speed up and when I am tired, I loath my watch. I hate waiting for it to find a signal before I can speed of. I hate the feel of my socks soaked up in the rain or my clothes clinging heavy on my body during downpours. I hate seeing my running clothes hanging in my bathroom all the time. And that I have to wash them twice a week or I’ll ran out. I also hate that they are so damn expensive.

And did I tell you that I cannot drink wine when I am training? I hate that very much too.

Marathon training is hard work, really, really hard work. And I hate it.

But I love running. That’s the only thing I care about in a marathon training. I can count 13 reasons why and there’s probably a hundred more than that. Way more than the reasons why I hate marathon training.

I love running and I like pushing myself to the edge despite how much I hate the training.

I am on week #3 of my marathon training. Technically it’s week #6 but I stopped for a month due to a holiday and flu. I don’t know if the first three weeks still counts but I decided to begin again. So now I only have 15 weeks to train. I’m not sure it is enough. At the rate I am going (3x/week) I am not even sure I can finish.

Unlike in the Rotterdam Marathon, I’m not looking to score a personal record. Whether I finish in 4’45 or 6 hours, it won’t really matter. I just really want to do a marathon again because I promised myself I’d run one every year.

I am doing the Torshavn Marathon in the Faroe Islands this June. So I guess I have to make peace, once again, with my marathon training. That’s how much I love running.

P.S. This is not a rant post. Just a blog post I thought when I was doing my long distance run last weekend. See, running fills my head with blog content too.

“Let’s bath in the river,” I urged my nephews and niece while we were about to turn back home from accompanying my husband buying his 3-in-1 coffee fix at the sari-sari store.

“Let’s race,” said the oldest. So Binbin, Bargas, the shy Nicole and I ran with all the speed we could muster, stomping on puddles in the dirt road created by the endless monsoon rain.

Being the most skinny and the lightest, Binbin was ahead of us, myself trailing behind side by side with Nicole and Bargas, who is slightly chubby, was way behind us.

“Wait for meeeee. Ateeee!!! Why are you all leaving me behind?” cried Bargas.

Even though it’s been raining a lot, the river water was very shallow, unlike last year when I visited this place together with my aunt. The rocks were covered in green, slimy moss  up to the deepest part of the river. But we didn’t care. The 12-year old and the 10-year old jumped right in while the 31-year old struggled with the sharp and slippery stones under her feet. Young Nicole did not want to get her beautiful, long dress wet but it started raining hard so she decided to dip her toes in the shallowest part anyway.

The water was cold and there wasn’t anyone around. So we shrieked and shouted and played to our heart’s content. I helped the boys climbed up a fallen tree so that we could all plunge to the water, imitating the Dragon Ball Z supernova move. We used the slimy, mossy rocks and rapids to carry us down the lower part of the river, pretended to be sharks in the deeper waters, caught trapped shrimps, splashed water to each other and teased Bargas that we will abandon him until he was on the verge of crying. Nicole couldn’t resist the fun so she followed us, soaking herself and her beautiful dress as well. I taught the kids how to produce an echo and we shouted their parents names, laughing while the sound bounced on the rocks and got carried by the wind.

We could have played in the river the whole afternoon, oblivious to the rain, the cold and time. But the old people came passing by. They waved at us so we thought that we were being summoned home.

Binbin climbed at the back of the tricyle, behind the driver, Bargas and I jumped behind the sidecar and Nicole seated herself inside. We were all merrily laughing at Bargas for stripping off. But we were also concerned that other kids would laugh at him if they see him naked. So as a solution, I covered him with a pink umbrella until we can get to the driveway.

By the time we got back, everybody was already preparing to leave our short reunion. Everyone saw him ran to the house naked with a pink umbrella. Needless to say, we all went home laughing.

On the flight home to the Philippines, I watched the film adaptation of my favourite book, The Little Prince. Between sobs and tears and mucus running down my face, I wrote these quotes on my journal:

“I’m not so sure I want to grow up anymore,” said the little girl.
“Growing up is not the problem, forgetting is,” answered the eccentric pilot.

Maybe that’s why I keep on going home. I don’t ever want to forget the most beautiful part of my life, my childhood.

It was seven years ago when we met for the second time. I vividly remember how beautiful you were in that winter afternoon of January. The first snow had just fallen and you were covered in immaculate whiteness. I was so happy with your lovely welcome. Despite making my life a hell before allowing me to come here to settle (remember we hired a lawyer so you’ll let me in), I thought we finally hit it off that day. I must admit though, it took a while before I got used to your way of life.

Remember that first time we saw each other in the summer of 2008? I thought you’d remain like that all the time, warm, pretty, accommodating, full of opportunities. Remember how I had this part time job digging soil and pulling grass so that I could buy a cellphone for my sister? I thought that was really fun and I won’t mind doing that when I come back just so I won’t be dependent on my husband. I thought it’ll be easy to find a job once I’ve settled down. I didn’t know that you have a gloomy and cold side. And that finding a job here takes more skills than digging soil and pulling weeds.

But it was ok.

I have learned how to appreciate the changing seasons. I even became poetic about spring.

I learned how to entertain the way your people does. You know circle parties.

And you taught me the value of patience. I worked for €1 a day for an Indian lady for several months so that I could have a real working experience, which is apparently a big thing for you. You want people to have jobs. After all, you were kind enough to foot the bill so I could learn your language. I thought that was really a cool compromise. I think I even impressed you when I passed my language exams in flying colours in just one year. And when I got a real job (you know contract, loonheffing, and all) after half a year. Work I did and I paid my taxes. I know that’s  very important to you, the most important thing for you.

You gradually showed your true self. You weren’t as accommodating as I thought you were, particularly your doctors. They really aren’t compassionate, are they? One of them even told me off, telling me that “it’s different how we do things here in the Netherlands” while my request was completely valid. But huisarts are only part of this whole health saga in your country. The bigger drama is the health insurance. Remember how they charged me triple one time?

Oh and don’t forget how you try to squeeze our bank accounts dry whenever you send your municipality and water taxes. Sometimes I think you’re unforgiving when it comes to these taxes. There’s just no escaping it.

But I forgive you for that because it means you aren’t perfect. You still need to sort out your systems.

It didn’t take long before you adopted me as your own. After only three years (the longest three years of my life), you gave me the same rights as your own children in the form of a shiny, new passport, in a rather emotional allegiance ceremony at the municipal hall.

I remember feeling like a newborn and a traitor at the same time. You didn’t allow me to keep my Filipino citizenship so I had to abandon the nationality of the country I was born to. But that’s alright. Again, I know you like compromises.

My new passport indeed saved me from a lot of immigration headaches.

I’m still confused nowadays whether I should say “Dutch” or “Filipino” whenever someone asks me about my nationality. My first answer is still Filipino although I am getting used to saying Dutch more and more. I hope you don’t mind.

I wanted to impress you even more so I even took driving lessons to allow me to become more independent. It didn’t go as easy as I planned. It only proved that you’re more difficult in giving away driver’s license than Dutch passport. In the end I thought, I’m helping you earn enough to provide for all of us immigrants that you are taking under your arm. It does costs billions to teach us how to live the way you wanted us to.

I think by now we’re passed the seven year itch. You don’t irritate me as much anymore with your weather mood swings, ever increasing health insurance fee and still uncaring doctors and expensive dentists. If anything, I’ve become more and more Dutch in terms of frankness and complaining. I feel freer to tell people what I think, even to Filipinos who are usually more sensitive with the truth. And you should hear how passionate I complain about some of your stupid regulations.

With the way things are going right now, I think we would be together for a really long time. Although I still surprise myself whenever I utter the words “I love this country”, I am saying it more often lately.

Your overly organized systems bore me to death sometimes but I like it better than the chaos of my former home. Besides whenever I am craving for that chaos, I just cross the border to our neighbour Belgium. Such a shame that she still has better food but your Rotterdam is catching up very quickly. In the last seven years, I’ve witnessed so many changes in this city and so far I am enjoying what I am seeing.

Well this sentiment is getting very long. I know you don’t like cheesy love letters like this. I should avoid this too much display of emotions because the modest Zeeuws (my parents inlaw especially) would frown upon this sort of PDA. I just want to thank you for the first seven years of our life together. You opened up the world for me.

We initially wanted to stay at Inntel Hotel in Rotterdam to watch the fireworks at the Erasmus Bridge and toast our 8th year anniversary. But in the end, we decided against it because the room that we got was more than €200/night with no view of the Maas River. Besides we’re not really party goers. So why not go somewhere more peaceful instead, where we won’t be bothered by the noise of New Year’s Eve. So we booked an old favourite for a weekend getaway in Gelderland and drove to Putten on Thursday afternoon, on the last day of 2015.

Postillion Hotel Amersfoort Veluwemeer
We’ve stayed at Postillion Hotel four years ago. I remember being crazy about the location and the food. This time was a little different. I booked a much cheaper room (at €60/night), which looked dated and had no bath. The food was also less impressive, the wine disappointing and the cocktail that the barman tried to mix for me, disgusting. But the wellness area is as relaxing as before. We enjoyed the Turkish steam bath and  sauna all to ourselves for 1.5 hours for only €15 extra. Not bad for the first day of 2016.

One of my favourite lobbies especially that sofa those kids are occupying.

We dressed up a bit for New Year’s Eve dinner. Here’s a lobby shot with Jimmy Choo boots, Saloni Lodha skirt and a vintage top from my cousin.

The hotel was full of guests and dogs, all escaping the New Year’s Eve fireworks and parties. Robin and I dressed up a bit but we felt out of place in the restaurant during dinner. It would have looked liked a regular weekend except that the hotel was decked in holiday ornaments.

We dined-in  both evenings. The more affordable season’s menu costing €27 was more delicious that the more expensive options on the regular menu. The same was true for the wines. Our palate were more entertained by the Salento than the Rioja, by the duck (above) than by the wild boar and fried chicken.

During dinner, we finished a bottle of Rioja while still having a bottle of champagne waiting for us in the room. Of course the improper order of drinking did not discourage us to finish the champage. Which resulted to…you guess it. Drunkness and a very bad hangover the next day. I was already asleep by 9:000PM and missed the all important countdown on TV.

After a late breakfast the next day, I went back to bed to nurse my hangover while Robin watched TV (I think he miss having one) and later on inspected the hotel’s terrain while I was dozing off. I managed to haul myself out of bed at noon. It was the first cold day of the winter season and a thick mist enveloped the whole of Gelderland that morning. The mist gave a mystical feel to the surroundings, particularly the yacht haven and the lake. I took the chance to practice my photography “skills”. These photographs were taken around the hotel’s property.

The man in the mist.

Ghost boats.

Robin took this photo of me at the end of the jetty.

Harderwijk
After the short photography session, we drove to the Hanseatic city of Harderwijk. Vischpoort, the 14th-century gate was a few meters away from a very large parking complex outside the Dolfinarium so we conveniently parked there. Since it was January 1, parking was free and there’s hardly anyone going about the city square.

Everything was closed. The small city square was so quiet except for a group of kids playing hide and seek. Their shrieks and laughters bounce off the old walls, filling the square with a childish glee. It felt like Christmas morning rather than the first day of the year.

A few meter’s away from the Vischpoort gate is this tree line. There’s a cute boy who smiled for my camera. Can you see him?

The Haven van Harderwijk with the windmill called De Hoop in the background.

Vischpoort, the 14th-century city gate.

Part of the old city wall.

Typical Dutch houses in the city square. Most of these are still residential houses and have not been turned into a store, a restaurant or an office space like in Amsterdam.

Do you spot the children playing hide and seek?

A two-hour walk around the town made us hungry and the only place open was a kebab eatery. So our first lunch of 2016 was these cholesterol-laden Turkish meals.

The infamous broodje doner and kapsalon. If you ever visit the Netherlands, especially Rotterdam, don’t ever leave without eating these. Warning – both meals packs up up to 2000 calories per order.

We tried looking for Landgoed Schovenhorst, the old forest we visited in 2012 but it was difficult to drive in thick mist. So at 3:30PM we drove back to the hotel. We’ve scheduled a sauna session at 4:30PM so we had at least 30 minutes to watch TV and look at the photos we took that day. And of course there’s nothing more fulfilling after a sauna session than a huge meal of duck and wild pate. This time however, with only a glass of wine.

Amersfoort
We started Saturday morning with a cold and rainy 10km run at Strandboulevard, a long bicycle path the starts from our hotel and goes all the way to Harderwijk. Unfortunately it was still very dark so we could not enjoy the scenery provided by the beach. But it was an exhilarating run nonetheless, the first long distance run we’ve had since a month ago when I decided to have a break from running. Followed by a warm shower and a full brunch, it was a nice way to begin the day.

However the day intended to be rainy and dark and our plan of exploring the forests was quickly abolished. At check out, we got a tip from the receptionist to visit Kunsthal Kade in Amersfoort. It wasn’t open until 12 noon so we killed time drinking coffee at the very hip Kunsthal Kade cafe.

It cost €10 per persoon and to be honest, we weren’t very impressed with the current expostion called Land Art. But there was this sand box installation where you are allowed to play, take photos and share it on social media. Of course, I couldn’t resist. If you follow me on Instagram, you’d find my video spinning it the sand box. Just thinking about it is making my stomach crunch at this moment. I’ll spare you the torture.

Installations called Reed Moved by Fans by Dutch artist Marinus Boezem (foreground) and Wood Circle by English artist Richard Long.

That’s a cave and everything present on a cave. I forgot to note the name of the artist.

We left the museum after an hour. There weren’t many options on a rainy day but indoor activities so we agreed to watch James Bond’s Spectre afterwards. We still had three hours to kill so we decided to walk around the old city starting from Koppelpoort towards the city centre. The rain was starting to get heavy and I was starting to get crancky. We stop for a glass of rose and some calorie-laden bitter garniture. By the time we left the cafe at 2:30PM, the rain has let up and Amersfoort looked a little lovier in its wet glory. I won’t mind living here.

The medieval gate Koppelpoort.

The city centre of Amersfoort has maintained the old buildings that now houses modern stores.

Want cheese? There are endless little streets to explore.

While walking back to Pathe cinema, we passed by the De Drie Ringen beer brewery and stopped to have another drink. The pub has cozy and warm interior unlike the usual dark pubs that typifies breweries. There was a local gathering going on. There was also erwtensoep (typical Dutch pea soup for winter). Too bad we weren’t invited.

This eye-catching painting on the left gives a tasteful touch to this pub. On the left is our glasses of Drie Ringen dubbel, sweet, malty and just what you need for a rainy winter day.

Spectre was another entertaining and over-the-top James Bond movie. My husband had a certain swag when we left the cinema. With popcorns and cola, it was the perfect way to end a weekend trip. By 7:30PM we were home enjoying a plate of adobo flakes for dinner.

Welcome 2016!

Robin and I have long wished for a ramen house in Rotterdam. Japanese noodle houses are a rarity in the Netherlands, especially from my neck of the woods so we couldn’t give in to any ramen cravings as often as we do with say, Vietnamese banh mi or Thai fish cakes. I even remember braving one rainy evening in Amsterdam just to get my ramen fix at Fou Fow.

During an afternoon out in the city centre last weekend, we agreed to discover more of West Kruiskade and eat in one of the hole in the wall eateries in the area. We wanted to eat first at De Langer Muur but were discouraged by the number of diners so we crossed the street and stumbled upon a tiny place decked with a geisha curtain at the entrance.

“Are you new here?” I immediately quizzed the waiter once we were seated in the Japanese-hut decorated corner by the window. He said they’ve opened in this location in April and they’re the third branch of the SET noodle house from The Hague. The interior is decorated in a typical Japanese minimalist design. No revolving sushi bar nor distracting red lights. Tables and chairs were made of wood and Japanese text dominates the paintings and pictures hanging all over the place.

What we ordered?
Ramen of course. There are not many tepanyaki dishes in the menu so we were not distracted by other choices. Robin went for the house specialty – the Set Volcano ramen while I was already happy with a bowl of pork soya ramen with a cup of hot macha latte.

Robin’s Spicy Volcano set lived up to its name – an explosive bowl of noodle soup that already hurts your nostrils to even inhale it. But the both was really flavourful, I could put a bowl of rice in it alone and have a complete meal. The toppings of beef, corn and seaweed were just as tasty. However the whole portobello mushroom blobbing out of the broth was very unsightly. They could have put chanterelle or enoki instead.

The servings were huge for the price that we paid for it. The volcano set was about €12,95 and the pork soya ramen was €7,95.

My pork soya ramen was also very nice but again, it has that odd-looking mushroom head in it. It just didn’t feel right.

I was tempted to order the the mini cheesecake for dessert because they only cost €2,50. I was even impressed by the plating when it arrived. Such effort for that price and it look great in photos. But it definitely didn’t taste as good as it looked. I could have saved myself €2,50 and a lot of disappointment.

What we think about it?
To expect that it’ll be the same quality as Japan would be too ambitious. It didn’t even come close to the ones served in ramen houses in the Philippines and HongKong. It is good to note that the owner of SET restaurants is Chinese and not Japanese.

But it tasty, it’s good enough to satisfy our cravings for a hot bowl of Japanese soup on a rainy and cold Saturday afternoon. I think it is even better than Fou Fow. And the best thing about is that it’s in 010.

Set Noodle & Hotpot
West-kruiskade 10B
3014AP Rotterdam

P.S. They don’t serve hotpot yet. I hope they never will.