Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel
and kiss the ground.
As you know, my husband Bernardus is from The Netherlands. So I live in Amsterdam for part of the year.
There are lots of differences between Americans and the Dutch, most of which I discover by breaking unwritten rules of culture that you learn only by violating them. Hard as I try, I can’t stop ordering Diet Coke instead of wine or beer with dinner, despite the knowing smiles and the inevitable comment whispered under someone’s breath, as if telling a very personal secret: “She’s American.”
For the record, the Dutch don’t actually wear those little wooden clogs they sell to tourists. They do have windmills, ...