My first really sunny day in Rotterdam and a burger review

Since we moved to Rotterdam just over 2 months ago, it has been cold and windy. Every time I've gone out and the sun has been shining, I've been lulled into a false sense of security.

I've not been stupid, mind. I know that in March, bare arms or legs are a bad idea in the Northern Hemisphere. I mean that I've gone out without a hat or gloves, or occasionally thought that a flash of bare ankle might be a good idea. 

In London, this would be fine. It's unnaturally warm there, so going out in the middle of winter and showing flesh other than the face is do-able. Even if it's chilly, unless you are waiting for hours at Clapham Junction or another frigid Network Rail station (Balham, anyone?) you're going to be ok. You can pop into a cafe if your ankles get really cold. 

Sometimes I've looked askance at the American bloggers I like reading. They post these great photos of snowy New York/ Washington/ Michigan somewhere and about January they start moaning about how bored they are with the cold. At that point, I think to myself 'Oh give over!'. For someone used to the relatively light temperature swings of the southern UK, the thought of temperature extremes is quite exciting. 

However, Rotterdam - while not offering me snow in abundance - is proving to be a tricky place. It's typically a couple of degrees lower than London on any given day, but much windier and colder somehow. I have seen people bundled up as though we were in New York in double digit negative numbers (Celsius) and after a couple of months, (yes I am quite slow to catch on) I realise why. It's just chuffing chilly here. 

So over the past week or so, as it's been warming up, I've really been enjoying it. We went on a walk in the dunes last week which was both sunny and windy. And today has been like early summer. We walked in Het Park and had to take off our coats. I had bare legs. Then I began to think I should have worn short sleeves. I took photos of the tall ships lines up along the riverside for a race, and of W in front of the most lovely magnolia tree. 

Burger review: Hamburger

Following on from my considerations on flat whites in London, I decided to review burger bars in Rotterdam, as we eat there. Yesterday we went to Hamburger on Witte de Withstraat. I had a skinny burger with cheese and W had a triple cheeseburger with fries. 

Let's start with the fries - of course I pinched some. Stolen fries don't count, everyone knows that. They were just so good, dark golden and crispy. I think they may have been double fried. 

The burger was also great - if a little on the small side. Very juicy and well formed, with good processed cheese on top. It came with a pleasant salad instead of the bun, and the price was reduced by one euro, which is unusual! 

W's looked good - but he is not able to say why. He says 'it was a good burger, with nice cheese. And I liked it'.

Hamburger is a nice little bar on the first floor above another restaurant. It has a wide range of beers, including my favourite Brew Dog Dead Pony, although we had wine on this occasion. The decor is mostly in the hallway and on the stairs, and it is kind of psychedelic. 

I think I'm going to rather the following 5 attributes - and by skinnification, I mean: how successfully have they made a burger low carb? 

Service: 9/10

Decor/ Atmosphere: 8/10 (nice decor, menus a little grubby.)

Burger: 8/10

Fries: 10/10

Skinnification: 8/10

Musings on moving to the Netherlands

The tail end of 2015 and the beginning of 2016 have required focus and project management of my life in a way I didn't think was possible. The reason? W and I decided to 1) do IVF again; 2) move to Rotterdam; 3) rent my London flat; and 4) get married.

Getting married and IVF deserve posts of their own, and renting the flat was time consuming and mostly boring, but moving to Rotterdam - that deserves some musing over!

Rotterdam is W's city. It's where he was living when we met and he grew up fairly nearby. He has always wanted to go back. He hated the smell and the people of London. It's true that en masse, Londoners are a bit much. It's hard to feel a sense of community with over 7 million other people.

I've always said I would be willing to move - hey that statement is even in my old 'About me' section! Now that I'm out of debt and in a place with my job where I can move to another country but still work back in London, it seemed like the perfect time to do it. So we made our decision in November, in December W finally left the job he had also hated, and we began to pack.

Looking back, my London flat had a surprising amount of storage! I always felt that it was a fairly poky place, though I had done my best with it. But when you think that I had the attic above with nearly as much floorspace as the flat itself, you realise that I was pretty lucky. Our new flat (at least for the next 6 months) is spacious, but folks, there is So. Little. Storage. Space. It feels particularly hard as I spent so much time getting rid of stuff as we packed - I must have junked 20 or so boxes of books, clothes and things!

I am taking this as a challenge to live with fewer clothes. I'm not quite doing a 30 for 30 [LINK], but I have pared down my wardrobe to the clothes and shoes I love and really wear, and that will fit in the space we have. In a slightly masochistic way, I am enjoying this, and it is making it very easy to pack for work. It helps that I am flying with a carry on every week and that I seem to be going through a black and neutrals phase.

Unpacking is the hardest bit. We ended up with about 130 boxes and things coming over, and of these a large number are books that will go into storage when we find somewhere. But there are so many boxes still to go through, and a number of important things missing:

• my hair straighteners
• my good hairdryer (i.e. not a travel hairdryer)
• the European flex for the Bose Soundtouch (this thing is amazing BTW)

I don't understand how my careful packing still led to these things disappearing for nearly 3 weeks now?

I see moving country as being like repotting a plant. It can be done without too much trauma, but it takes care and nurturing. You need to separate the roots out to ensure that they can grow freely in the new soil (this is the uncluttering bit). You need to repot carefully in the right pot and the right soil. And you need to water carefully. You probably don't want to repot too regularly, you want the plant to adjust to the new pot and grow new roots. 

Not being unpacked leaves me feeling somewhat anxious. It's hard to relax when almost every view has a pile of boxes in it. And I know that once we are unpacked the real challenge begins. I want to grow roots in Rotterdam, cause I need to make friends here and find the places that I had in London: running with ParkRun, a gym where I can do heavy weights, a Pilates place. Maybe some favourite places to eat and shop. So it's back to the boxes. Who knows, maybe I'll find the hairdryer.