Amsterdam.

Beer for breakfast

 While I was in Africa, Husbando and I discussed going away for a few days when I got back.  Much debate followed.  He mentioned Tromso, I fancied Snowdonia then Husbando countered with Amsterdam.  Amsterdam came with the added appeal of a book market on Fridays so that he could possibly do some business.  So flights and a hotel were booked, a guide book was bought (and swiftly misplaced) and we sat back and waited.

We'd booked to stay for 2 nights, but we aimed to make the most of our time by arriving early and leaving late.  This meant a 2.30am alarm call so that we could make a 6am flight and arrived at Schiphol at about 8am.  After checking in at the Amsterdam Hilton (that's right the one where John and Yoko stayed in bed for a week - you can stay in their room and even book it for wedding ceremonies) and grabbing a quick breakfast in the Executive Lounge we hit the internet and booked our first trip - because a tour round a brewery is what everyone needs at 9.30am on a Wednesday morning.  

Now I have to admit that I somehow always thought that Heineken was a German beer.  I have no idea why I thought that, but it may have had something to do with their advertising campaigns in the 1980s.  I was happy to be educated and to get to drink beer on the stunning roof terrace overlooking Amsterdam.  One of the things we could just about spy, and had passed on our way to the brewery, was a major engineering project - in need of more city centre parking they have decided to drain part of one of the canals and build a 2 story carpark underneath it before replacing the water.

The first afternoon saw us traipsing around the Rijksmuseum - Husbando loved it, I thought it was OK, but then I am the sort of philistine who wanders around the National Portrait Gallery trying to work out which modern day celebrities the portraits most closely resemble.  In the evening we split up.  Husbando took himself off to the casino and I went to the Anne Frank House.  I am probably the only person on the planet who hasn't read the diary, and there were bits of her story of which I was unaware.  I had no idea that her father had survived, and I was totally poleaxed by the site of the pencil marks on the wall indicating how the girls had grown.  We have those same marks on the door to our kitchen.

Almond Blossom 

Thursday saw two mad English people pounding the streets in the 1928 Olympic Village and around the Olympic stadium.  We discovered that the Amsterdam Marathon starts and finishes in the Olympic stadium - so that one might be on the cards for next year.  After that, it was on to the Van Gogh museum.  We'd pre-booked our tickets so avoiding a HUGE queue.  I am always blown away by his paintings and this was no exception, but we also learnt so much more about his life.  I can't recommend this place highly enough.

After all this culture we needed more alcohol.  The House of Bols had been recommended - so off we went.  Now I thought that Bols only made that disgusting Advocat that used to appear every Christmas - but they make a whole range of vividly coloured liqueurs as well as genever and gin which makes for some interesting cocktails!  

Begijnhof

Friday was spent meeting friends who have moved to Amsterdam and mooching around the Spui Book Market.  I will admit that I found this less than exciting (the book bit not the meeting friends bit - who doesn't like beers in the sunshine at 10am in the morning?)  and took myself off the the Begijnhof - these houses around a tranquil garden were built as a sactuary for the Begijntjes, a Catholic sisterhood who lived like nuns, although they took no monastic vows.  I sat and read my book and wrote some postcards.  

The rest of our time was spent wandering around, popping in and out of shops and cafes and just enjoying the beautiful architecture.  Even the modern building seem to have a really strong design element and the glimpses we saw into people's homes seemed to show a love of books and art.  Amsterdam feels like the real world only a little bit nicer!  There is plenty that we didn't get to do, but that's find - it means we'll have to go back!  

View from our hotel window

"I know a game that will change your life" (A final Tanzania related post - I think)

These were the portentous words of Al, our expedition leader, one warm afternoon when we were twiddling our thumbs in camp at Monduli Juu.  We were well into our second bottle of Stoney Tangawizi by this point and even the sugar rush provided by a drink that really deserves a blog entry of its own couldn't lift the torpor we were feeling after yet another broken night of sleep and another morning of trekking in the heat.

I looked over the edge of my book and decided to leave Al and SW to play their silly games.....

You start with a couple of bottle caps each.  Put them a flat surface - the boys improvised with a large book - with the picture side down, as shown in the first photograph.  Put them a couple of inches apart.  Exact measurements don't really matter.  From this point on they can only be moved with your thumb(*).  You can only touch your own bottle cap and you can only touch it once on each turn - no sneaky double tapping is allowed!





The aim is to flip your bottle cap so that it lands on top of your opponent's bottle cap with the picture side uppermost.   Any overlap, with the the pretty side of your cap showing is a win and means that you have won that round and so take possession of both bottle caps.  Play continues until one player has no more bottle caps left.  You can start with any number of bottle caps - but three each seems to make for a good game.

 If your bottle cap goes off the edge of the table (or other improvised playing surface) then you have lost your turn and forfeit your bottle cap to your opponent.

If you flip your bottle cap so it lands on your opponents cap as shown in this photo then you have lost your turn and forfeit your bottle cap to your opponent.

 If you flip and miss your opponents cap and end up with bottle caps that look like this then you have lost and forfeit your bottle cap to your opponent.










It takes a while to master the knack of flipping the cap but as I watched Al & SW play against each other it was noticeable that they were drawing a small crowd of boys who were watching avidly.  In the absence of smartphones the game spread like wildfire through the group.  Whenever we had a few boys, a few bottle caps, a few minutes to spare and a flat(ish) surface a game would be started.  It is a great way to pass a few minutes and does get quite competitive.

Since returning home, I've taught it to my family, in fact Husbando and I spent 10 minutes playing it this evening while waiting for our curry to be served.  He's got the hang of flipping at last and we are pretty evenly matched now.  I love the low tech nature of this game, easy to play anywhere with minimal resources... and it is surprisingly addictive!

* If you are playing against a small child then you can let them use a finger rather than their thumb.

It seems that I like being told what to do after all!

I posted a couple of day ago that I needed to learn to love running again.  For the last few years I've followed the same pattern.  Rest day on Monday, shortish runs on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, rest day on Friday, parkrun on Saturday and then a long run on Sunday.  The only variation would be the length of my Sunday run.  Sometimes I'd do a trail run with friends of an evening, and occasionally I'd do some form of speed work (normally called 'keeping up with Husbando') but there was no real thought that went into what I did.   So maybe what I needed to do was look at what I was doing and do something different.

I'd noticed a couple of friends posting about 'TrainAsOne' workouts they had done so hit the internet to find out what it was all about.  Basically it is a program that analyses your activity and gives you a workout plan for your next run.    I signed up, linked it to my Strava account and waited to see what it would tell me to do.

My first run had two incredibly slow segments (I couldn't manage to run that slowly even going up hill) and then the instruction was to 'run 2 miles QUICK!' followed by more very slow running.  I thought it all looked a bit odd, but did it anyway.  And you know what?  I 'ran' without stopping for 30 minutes for the first time in ages.  Day 2 was similar, although the middle section called for me to run as far as I could in 6 minutes.  Yet again, it didn't feel difficult, but I completed it.  And I was quietly smug that I had run further than the programme suggested I would in the time available.

Today, after the small matter of collecting my daughter's A'level results, spending the morning at school with my students getting their A'level results and a nice pub lunch with my colleagues, I was looking forward to getting home and going for a run.  I was actually looking forward to going for a run!  I was, according to the email that had arrived in my inbox, due to do an 'Economy Run.'  This is defined as 'a run at a steady pace designed to maximise the improvement in your running economy (calories consumed per kilometre) The majority of your running is at a slow comfortable pace, where you run at an economical speed, consuming a relatively small number of calories per distance travelled. For most people this is a pace at which you can hold a conversation.'  And the detailed instructions asked me to run really slowly for 5 mins and then 37 mins at a steady (but slow) speed.  I struggled to run as slowly as requested, but it was nice to have a run where I was consciously trying to run slower rather than striving to run faster!  I probably ran a fair bit faster than I should have done - but I swear a could have maintained a conversation - as I covered just over 4 miles rather than the just over 3 miles the programme suggested.   Again, I ran without stopping for an entire 42 minutes.

I think a few things are going on here.  I've handed over the responsibility for deciding what I do to someone else, someone who I can't argue with because it is a computer algorithm.  I know I could ignore the suggested run advice - but what's the point in that?   I'm not worrying about how fast I am running for the majority of the time.  The short bursts of effort are achievable, I finish the runs feeling as though I have accomplished something.

So it appears that running and I were only on a break, we are not heading for a long separation.  I've even entered a couple of races.... A six hour challenge with On The Whistle in September and a night time half marathon with White Star Running.  I have no idea what distance I will run in the On The Whistle run as it is only a month away, but there are still places available if you want to come along and run with me!

I need to fall in love again.

Have you been reading my blog for a while?  It is probably quite obvious that I like running.  I've planned my holidays around races and some would say that I am quite obsessed with running.  I've made so many friends through running and have been evangelical in extolling the virtues of running in general and parkrun in particular.

But, in the last couple of weeks I haven't been feeling the love.  My trip to Tanzania was something that I had looked forward to and planned towards for almost two years.  While far from being a holiday it was an epic adventure.  I'm left feeling a little bit flat now.  I am well used to the 'post marathon blues' that tend to hit on the Wednesday after a weekend marathon, this is similar but on a somewhat larger scale!

The post marathon blues can be cured by an extra slice of cake or glass of wine (or possibly both!) an internet connection and a quick browse of the races available.  15 minutes with a credit card means that the next race is booked and there is something to aim for... which is just as well given that cake and wine have been consumed!  The post expedition blues call for something more exciting.  Given that no one else in my family thinks that camping and walking up mountains is remotely enjoyable - Husbando is not known as the 'five star canary' without good cause - I will have to wait for the next chance to jump on an aeroplane with a group of teenagers!

Normally, when I feel glum, I put on my trainers and head out for a run.  Now running when we were in Africa was not really an option.  I had a couple of runs along the beach - about half a mile out and back because that is where I was stopped by security.  Out and back running, even on the edge of the Indian Ocean at sunrise, is dull!  It just wasn't safe to run in most of the places we stayed.  So, despite walking miles and gaining much altitude, I did virtually no running.  I didn't really run for four and a half weeks!

On the 'plane on the way home I commented to SW that I was really looking forward to running again.  The day after we got back I pulled on my running shorts and headed on out and up the hill outside our house.  Oh my word, what was going on?  I could barely make it a quarter of a mile before having to stop.  I persevered - completing a very slow 3 mile run with lots of stopping and swearing.  I began to dread going out for a run.  What was going on?

It has taken me over two weeks to realise that expecting to take a month's break from running and then to expect to be able to run as fast as I had before was unrealistic.  I ran a chatty parkrun with a friend on Saturday, she had a marathon the next day, so was happy to bimble around with me.  33 minutes for a 5k is never going to set the world on fire, but it was the first time I had run 5k without stopping since June!

Sunday saw me up in London as Husbando had a book fair.  We leave home just after 5am which means that, once he's unloaded the car, I'm free to go for a run.  The weather was beautiful.  I set off with no real goal in mind other than enjoying myself.   I would run when I wanted to, stop if I felt like it, walk if I need to.  At one point I was running along the Embankment while a Polish walk racing athlete (I think he was one of the Blocki brothers) was training.  No prizes for guessing who was moving faster!

But, something was different.  Despite the fact that I was running slower than a race walker (!) - it took me an hour and a quarter to run about 7.5 miles - I was enjoying it.  The aches and pains (dodgy piriformis) were not hugely in evidence.  I wasn't really thinking about the fact that I was 'running' (one of the benefits of London being so flat), I was just enjoying being out in my home town in the sunshine, without the place being crammed with tourists.

So, I need to take it easy and ease back into running.  I haven't got any races planned until The Royal Parks Half in October.  I ran that race in 1hr 43mins a couple of years ago.  I doubt I will ever beat that time, even if I trained for it.  As is is, I'll try to remember that running is fun and concentrate on that rather than on pace and times.

And while I run I will plot my next big adventure...  

Looking back...

Before, after and during our recent trip we heard comments about our 'holiday.'  The trip was many things, but it was not a holiday.  In my former career I got to travel widely and always sought to ring every possible ounce of excitement out of each trip - whether that trip be to South America or Cardiff -  I love travel and adore the chance to try something new.  Four and a half weeks in Tanzania was harder work than any other trip I have ever done.  Being 'on duty' 24/7 is exhausting.  If you are a parent, think back to those early days when you had a baby that didn't sleep through the night.  It was a bit like that - I never felt that I could sleep deeply and the unbroken nights were as rare as rocking horse poo.  And while I probably, on occasion, ignored my own child crying there is no way I could ignore one of my students.

Behaviour, in the main was excellent - but I still have a couple of 'tricky emails' to send to parents.  I'd not looking forward to that.  Most of the boys grew and developed over the 4.5 weeks, but decision making was still painfully slow.  The whole point of the expedition was that they boys take responsibility as much as possible, but this meant that it could take most of a day to organise a hotel, transport and places to eat.

Hmm, places to eat... teenagers don't tend to be the most adventurous souls when it comes to food.  Our food budget was meagre - purposely so in order, in theory, to encourage the students to try local food rather than more expensive western food.  I love food, I would quite happily eat street food at lunch time to allow space in the budget so that we could eat somewhere more exotic in the evening.  The boys were interested in food they could recognise, burgers, fried chicken, pizza... So that whole lovely holiday vibe of lingering over a good meal was not part of our trip.  We were much more likely to be dealing with a vomiting student.  NB One student who has necked 2 bottles of Fanta and a plate of chips in record time can empty a restaurant in record time by vomiting copiously at the table!

All this could drive one to drink... except that this is not an option on a school trip.  School rules state that at all times there must be two members of staff who have not drunk in the last 24 hrs - we had three members of staff, and the organisation running out expedition had a blanket 'no alcohol' policy.  So no relaxing evenings, sitting on the beech with a beer.  No chilled glass of wine with a meal.  I'm not an alcoholic but... Part of me wonders if an opportunity to model 'adults enjoying an alcoholic drink in a responsible manner' was missed.

So no, it wasn't a holiday.  It was hard, hard work.  Amazingly rewarding at times, incredibly frustrating at others, I experienced some of the (literal and metaphorical) highest of highs but also the lowest, bleakest and most lonely times too.  The days when I could not get in touch with home - but wanted to talk to Husbando or my children more than anything else.  The late nights when we stood in the pitch black in a remote bit of field (because it was the only place we could get a phone signal) spending hours on a conference call to discuss our concerns about certain boys and situations.  

Would I go back?  In a heartbeat.  I'd do this type of trip regularly if given half the chance.  The benefit to the boys is immense.  I've had emails from parents saying how much their son has changed, for the better, because of the experience.  I'd love to be able to run this type of trip with children from disadvantaged backgrounds - I have a hunch that they would benefit even more than our relatively privileged pupils.

I was amazed at how much of a circus Kilimanjaro was - I hadn't expected it to be quite so busy, which is naive of me I know. Hopefully my next long expedition with school will be to somewhere equally as exciting but very different.  Outside school, I've got a few ideas about mountains I'd like to climb, which is just as well as my running mojo seems to have deserted me at the moment.

It won't be with SW, which is a shame.  I am still struggling to come to terms with him sacrificing his summit attempt so that I could summit.  It was always going to be a very hard decision - I wanted him to summit as much as I wanted to summit myself, but going down, and choosing to go down rather than tossing a coin, must have been so hard.  I know that the day after he went down was one of the lowest days of the entire trip for me - I can't imagine how tough it must have been for him.  Maybe he realises that, at my great age, time is running out for me to get back to Tanzania!  I'll  miss him next term - work won't be quite the same without him there, but I know that he will be hugely successful and popular in his new school and wish him all the best.