Introducing The Black Goose

Yes, she is the one.
Isn't she lovely?

The Black Goose is the only Dutch I love.
I swear.

We understand each other in a perfect way. There's no need of many words between us. And something like this doesn't happen that often.

Wherever I go, she comes with me. Wherever she wants to go, I take her. We rode among sandy dunes and in the Dutch woods. We walked hand in handle staring at the North Sea getting closer.

It was not love at a first sight like for Bianca the fiancée I have left in Bologna, but soon she became as important as her.

It is true that I used to date Ravenna Banger for a couple of months here in Utrecht, but we broke up. Well, actually she broke up. Stress happens.

And then I found her, The Black Goose.
She has everything I desire.
She is elegant but modest. Faithful but with a strong personality. Calm but adventurous.
In other words, The Black Goose is fascinating and desirable.

What is going to happen to our relationship in the very next weeks?
I don't know.

She will not follow me back home.

I would like to believe in a world in which mutual love and precious feelings can cross mountains or even oceans lasting for a long time, but lately my romanticism rhymes with scepticism.

Let's ride.
Typical Dutch.

Anna Paulowna

It's going to be our first date. Just me and her.
We decided to meet in a small train station between Alkmaar and Den Helder. Although we are not supposed to know so much about each other, I’ve heard many things about her.
Anna Paulowna. The famous Anna Paulowna. My Anna Paulowna, I hope.

I think about her constantly.
I wonder what took her to this remote corner of the Netherlands.
Rural Noord Holland does not look like a worldly place.
Yet she moved here a long time ago.

From my window I can see a milky veil of fog covering a flat, dull countryside. Former wet land. Black spotted Frisian cows stand peacefully along the railway line, flapping their ears and their tails as waving the passing train.

I left Alkmaar a half an hour ago. If I am not wrong just a few minutes separate me from Anna Paulowna. She should be near. She might be near. She must be near. I have to be patient.

According to geography, we are getting closer to the sea. Yet, the landscape does not have anything to do with a marine one. Where are the seagulls? Where are the wrecked boats? Where are the fishermen? Just green fields for miles. And a blanket of haze.
Apparently there used to be tulips here. But now their colours are gone. And all that remains are a few purple and yellow spots of sick-looking irises.

Anna Paulowna! Why did not I meet you in Saint Petersburg, Jalta or even in Roulettenburg when I know you were flirting with that gambler named Fyodor?
Well, it doesn't matter.

I remember having a similar date with Maria Ellend, a petite Austrian I met between Vienna and Bratislava. We attended to a party hosted by local firemen in the courtyard of a picturesque inn. There were liters of radler beer, spicy sausages and a band was playing while we were sitting under the grapevine. Needless to say that I fell in love with Maria Ellend.

That story is over.

Now my feelings are all for Anna Paulowna, the one I am going to meet.
Here we are. The train is reaching the tiny station. Just a few meters between us...
Finally I can see her waiting for me.
She is standing on the platform wearing an amazing blue dress.

ANNA PAULOWNA

The station placard cries.
Once. Twice.
Once. Twice.

But the train does not stop.
And she fades away.

Kiss From a Rose (quoting Seal)

Alles is Liefde
All is Love

The title of our short trip at the discovery of the V-Day in the Lowlands comes from a recent Dutch movie. You can find its dvd everywhere while here. Do you want it? I can buy it for you. Just tell me. Shipping for free! Anyway, I have to confess I don't know that much about this movie. I just know that the plot keywords chosen by IMDb.com are "folklore", "runaway groom", "gay love" and "brother sister relationship". For Dutchness sake!

However, even in these gray gay Lowlands today is Valentijnsdag.
Dutch lovers are cycling romantically holding their hands and causing many incidents in the fietspaden (bicycle routes). Yet nobody cares. What is an injured ankle or a broken knee compared to the power of love? That's what They think. Their supermarkets sell awful heartshaped boxes of aardbeien (strawberries). National radios like Arrow Classic Rock and Caz! (Italian readers, please don't laugh!) broadcast Dromen zijn bedrog (Dreams are an illusion) by Marco Borsato*.
The blackbirds on the still naked trees tweet the same song. Welcome to The Netherlands. They love each other. You'll love Them.

*The local old pop hero. A kind of national miaowing monument with a sexy Italian name (I guess, for Them) Imagine a mix of Bryan Adams and Eros Ramazzotti with curly cinder-blond hair.

Are you lonesome today? Don't be depressed. Don't sing Eleanor Rigby too much.
Listen. Do like me. Take your chance to make practice with your non-existent Dutch language mispronouncing Valentijnsdag loudly in front of a large size mirror. It's very easy. Follow me.
Faaaalendddinnssdahhhhhhg. Done? I haven't heard you. Mispronounce it louder! Come on!
Faaaal - Yeah!
Endddinnss - Go on!
Dahhrhhhg - Such a great Ahhrhhg sound you made! It was perfect. So lovely Dutch. So apparently impolite. I'm very proud of you. But stop strangling yourselves right now.

The Zutons - Why won't you give me your love