Back in the land of stroopwaffels and eendjes. We're driving back from the mall, where my little brother wanted to look at new cell phones, but ended up not getting one. But we were in the HEMA (which is the closest you get to a Target or Kmart here) and he saw me looking at a tank top, and he snuck behind my back and bought it when I wasn't looking and gave it to me when we got out. He picked out the right size and color and everything. This is clearly why he is my brother: he's a savvy shopper.
In other news, the main radio station here is having an ABBA day. That's right: all ABBA, all day. Gotta love Dutch radio. This is their idea of cool. Also, my stepmom and brother are obsessed with Abercrombie and Fitch. They can't buy it here, but there are second-hand shops that sell Abercrombie. This has been the predominant topic of conversation for the past six hours or so.
Now I am watching my little half sister put my entire childhood to shame by being a badass at field hockey camp. Have I mentioned she sails and plays tennis too? So does my brother. Seriously, what happened to that gene for me? They're both super sporty and fit. I couldn't kick a soccer ball and I am physically unable to learn how to swim. WTF?
I always arrive when Bob and Amber are coming back from camp, and I usually go along to pick them up. The awkward thing is, they always have these ridiculously tall and attractive male counselors and I'm the dumb American who gets lost among the hockey fields. It's awful. I am the biggest dork in Holland. And that's saying something.
Venice tomorrow, though. And now I am going to go drown my awkwardness in Heineken with my stepmom. Awesome.
Tot ziens!
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