Occasionally, my funny little mind conjures crazy thoughts which eventually manifest in the form of a cartoon.
Here is one of those crazy cartoons.
To be continued.
Barb the French Bean
My personal life has gone through a significant change within the past week: I am no longer living in Sablé-sur-Sarthe.
I have said good-bye to this:
|The Neigh-bors had a kid|
|The Saint Julien Cathedral is Le Mans' shining architectural glory|
|Le Mans, home of the 24 Hours of Le Mans|
|"Homestyle," mon oeil.|
Those who are fortunate enough to lead blissful lives of never having to encounter French documentation are probably unaware that any paperwork procedure over here requires a growing pile of photocopies, passport-sized photographs, several envelopes, stamps, blood, urine and stool samples, digital eye scans, swearing over your first-born child (with multiple passport-sized photos of said child), even, on occasion, selling your soul to the Devil. All of this documentation will take a minimum of six to eight weeks to process, if not longer.
After my down-on-visiting-museums luck in Den Haag and Delft, I decided that my third day of visiting the Netherlands would consist of something a little bit closer to Amsterdam while being miles apart from what the city is known. I made plans to see the Zaanse Schans in the morning and then pay a visit to Volendam in the afternoon. (I have to thank my former high school English and French teacher for inspiring me to go to Volendam, and it was with my research that I was able to come across the famous Zaanse Schans.)
|The only word you really need to know in Dutch.|
|If I'm not mistaken, these are packaging that once held chocolate letters, which are eaten around Sinterklaas-time. Pictured on the white chocolate box is Sinterklaas himself. And for those of you wondering who the funky black dude on the milk chocolate box is, his name is Zwarte Piet and he's one of many of Sinterklaas's soot-covered busy helpers. (GO HERE and HERE to understand.)|
|Verkade built its reputation for having women working on the lines, hence the feminine jumpsuits.|
|Klompen en fietsen. How much more Dutch can it get?|
|I quite liked this painting simply because of the juxtaposition of having traditional windmills with a backdrop of billowing industrial smokestacks. It's not something I see every day in art.|
|Be careful when working around factory machines, kiddos.|
|Just look at that untamed Dutch wilderness.|
|For some reason, this dried mud reminded me of the turf I saw in Connemara|
|And cookie moulds and cutters|
|I adore the architecture here.|
|"Kaas" is another useful Dutch word to know.|
|I tried a very nice bacon and asparagus cheese. It sounds so wrong, but it was so right.|
|Only in the Netherlands have I been able to see a thatched windmill...|
|...That had its own mini-windmill. (Cue the Xzibit "Yo dawg" joke.)|
|Windmill with a billowing smokestack backdrop? Now, where have I seen this before..?|
|Nijntje really isn't doing a good job at hiding.|
|"Koffie" is definitely worth knowing, too.|
|Score: 4.5 to 1.5. Drats!|
|If you squint at just the right angle, you can pretend they are still alive. Go on. Try it.|
|I normally don't take pictures of other people's back yards, but I couldn't resist. This one had roaming chickens.|
|I really do like how pimpin' Dutch bikes are.|
|The breath of life has a different meaning for me.|
|They don't. (Yes, I genuinely thought this telephone tower was a windmill. That's how drugged up I was on Benadryll.)|