Snow...

It was snowing heavily this morning, and I love it. Love it.
I wish I don't have this infection so I can enjoy the snow even more.

Mission: hot chocolate

As the temperature drops and the rain starts to fall, it's time to talk about hot chocolate. Hot, creamy, delicious, sweet, dark chocolate liquid.

I love chocolate drink. Cold or hot. White or dark chocolate. With or without whipped cream. With or without marshmallows.

But it was only last Monday I was introduced to Italian hot chocolate that was so thick you have to spoon it. Reminiscent of a cup of hot chocolate custard, it was made from Cameo's Ciobar mixed with milk. And I L.O.V.E every single drop of it. (D, you ruined me for life! ;))

As I couldn't find any Italian shop selling Ciobar in NL, now I have a mission to recreate the same experience without using Ciobar. So far I found several recipes using egg yolk(s) and/or using cornstarch that I can try. This will be an interesting winter...

Orgasm for Peace

Want to join an anti-war movement with a twist?
On this winter solstice day (Dec. 22th) GlobalOrgasm for Peace, a brain child of Donna Sheehan and Paul Reffell, is urging people all over the world to have orgasm on that day while focusing on world peace. You can do it anywhere you like, at anytime you want, with as much privacy as you choose.

According to their site:

The goal is to add so much concentrated and high-energy positive input into the energy field of the Earth that it will reduce the current dangerous levels of aggression and violence throughout the world.

Make love. Period.

Home is where the heart is

I remember having a conversation with one of my aunts at my parents (then) new house during one of my vacations. She asked about how I feel about being at home.

'Home? I miss home' I replied
'But you are home' she interjected
'My home is in NL, this is my parents', not mine.'

It was a weird vacation. There I was at my parents' and I had homesick. I missed my home. My (then 7077 miles away) tiny place in a tiny land. Until that point I'd never had a thought to call Holland home. Before, I had this love hate relationship with Holland. With its gloomy weather: it is grey most of the time, too windy and too much rain. Its flat topography: mount St. Peter is only 300 meter high (yeah, I know!), I live in a place 7 meter below the sea-level yet price of seafood is high. Its foods: raw herring (yum), drop(yuke), bitterballen(hmm), patat met or patat oorlog (lekker!), and milk produce (hmmm), to name a few. Its people with their sobering take on things and their way of gezelligheid. And of course its liberalism and Dutch tolerance.

I guess Holland grew on me. It wasn't love at the first sight like it was with Barcelona. Holland snuck up on me while I wasn't looking.

I know some would see me as a snob, calling Holland as my home. I don’t care, it is just how I see and feel it at this moment. It is home where I can do what ever I want, when I want it, with who ever I want to do it with. It is home where I can safely be myself and by myself. It's home in the sense that it's the only place I've been for the longest stretch in my life.

Growing up I moved from place to place, the longest one being 6 years in a row in one small town. I remember feeling envious when a friend of mine told me about him living in the same flat for 22 years. His home. How I wish I had that luxury. The closest thing I have is living up here for more than one third of my life. So sue me for being snob.

Indonesia represents my roots, my upbringing, my carefree youth and my early education. While Holland is the country where I (mis)spent my adulthood, where I fell in and out of love(s), where I lost and found myself.

I still am Indonesian, with Indonesian passport. Yet I feel out of touch with Indonesia. I have no clue who’s who in Indonesian politics, or entertainment industry for that matter. I have no clue how much things cost in Rupiah, except for the price of a kilo of baby corn is Rp. 12000 in Jakarta as my mom mentioned it the other day.

However, when I am up here in Holland I feel nostalgia for Indonesia. Its foods. Its climate. And, oh, the fact that we have maids. Yes, I am spoilt that way. I really miss having maid when I am sick and have to take care of myself, when my RSI acting up and I have to do household chores. Yes, you can get sick from eating at kakilima's. Yes, 35 degrees is now to hot for me to function properly and I can't stand airco so I'd be damned. And yes, sometimes having maids suck. Despite all, I'm still longing for Indonesia that I knew of. The one that I left behind.

Maybe I am just doomed to long for Indonesia when I am in Holland and to long for Holland when I am in Indonesia and yet never truly, completely feel at home at neither places.

Tell me, how many homes is one allowed to have?

How could...

... a pharmacist tell her customer to get her (acute) diarrhea medication the next day?