On Christmas Day I went to Peter's mum's for dinner with the rest of the Beerguzzlers. My earlier self-inflicted stress and worry proved to be merely self-inflicted (as always) because they were really nice people. It was a night of merry-making and introduction to a very different Christmas dinner do. Instead of stuffed roast turkey and Christmas log and brussel sprouts like what I anticipated from telly... my first ever European Christmas experience was a... gourmet.
"Christmas dinner in The Netherlands is a bit different from customs in neighbouring countries. One typical Dutch tradition is that of 'gourmet'. This is an evening long event where small groups of people sit together around a gourmet-set and use their own little frying pan to cook and season their own food in very small portions. The host has prepared finely chopped vegetables and different types of meats, fish and prawns/shrimps. Everything is accompanied by different salads, fruits and sauces. The origin of gourmet lies most likely in the former Dutch colony Indonesia." (from Wikipedia)
I'd sift through hundreds of mouth-watering foodie pics and post the best ones up but alas, as my luck with cameras would have it, the camera battery died before dinner started. Fuck. It. Lah.
Backview of the house where Peter grew up in. Was too shy to take pics of the frontal so I sneaked around the backyard, stepped in shit, and took pictures of...
... a homegrown brocolli (hopefully) plant. Much to the amusement of the family, whom I realised too late, could see my every move from the kitchen window.
The garden shed. Although, garden is very wrong a word to call the heee-yooooge piece of land around the house. And everyone's cajoling Peter to build his house on it, much to his aghast. As for me... why not? I can have the biggest mofo-ing kitchen in the world. And summers filled with strawberries around the house where I can just squat and stuff my face. And wave snails about at the faint-hearted. Fun! Let's see if I get my way in this... *rub hands in glee*
Note - Peter's family name translates into "in the beer house" in English.
My first out-of-town sight-seeing trip for the Christmas break - Den Bosch. Well the full name of the town is 's-Hertogenbosch but I'm sure all foreign visitors join me in rejoicing that it's better known for the humanly-pronunciable shorter name.
I haven't hung out much with twins as friends in real life. They're like unicorns. Fascinating and alien with plenty of theories and whispers of telepathy and the likes. I still stare at Jos with the intense interest of a scientist to a rare species of butterfly pinned onto a slide. Hence I try not to look at him too much. The resemblance in gait, laughter and outlook are scaaaary. Doppelganger!
My twin is well, less complex. I think. He's always happy. Click for more Den Bosch pictures while I go pack my bags to go to Jos and Marjanne's for New Year countdown and a game of Scrabble. 
