Any and all negative feelings I may have felt¹ upon completing my paper at noon this morning² are gone now: for it is a beautiful sunny unmistakably spring afternoon, the wind is blowing my skirt and hair around, I am seated on a bench in a lovely park, and I am about to start (for the third time) Mrs. Dalloway to read at my leisure. Everything at my leisure for the next two weeks, for I am free. How good a mood am I in? A bird shat in my hair and I thought well, at least it wasn't my face!³

¹ "feelings I may have felt." hmm.
² "noon this morning." hmm.
³ this really happened, but earlier, not there at the park. I did shower as soon as possible - but was strangely not so bothered by it.

I came here to be among people - yet still comfortably disconnected from people. To see, and hear, and experience everything about this beautiful afternoon in communion with all these people - although, no, to be honest, that was not my intention: I came to sit on a park bench in the warm sunlight, and was surprised, somehow, to see that other people had had the same idea. But pleasantly surprised, because I do love sharing these moments with the couple spooning on the grass, the two old men fending off loneliness together, the teenage boys skateboarding (they are not nearly as obnoxious about it as American teenage boys), the girl who chose the same cellphone ringtone as me (groovy blue) - sharing without really interacting.

You have this personal space which, if not breached, leaves you essentially solitary despite the fact that you are in a moderately-crowded public park: I do not know how many square feet comprise this personal space, but I am convinced it is a physical - and mutually-understood - reality. To one's own park bench, at least, I would argue this personal space extends.

How very shocked I was then - though outwardly I appeared perfectly unaffected - when a woman of about 60 approached my bench, leaned her bicycle against it rather jarringly, sat down and simply went on eating her ice cream cone! Truly, not only would I never do such a thing, but I feel pretty certain few Americans would; but more than anything I am shocked that a Dutch woman would when, from everything I have observed and been told, the Dutch are particularly attached to their own privacy and go out of their way not to infringe upon anyone else's. No one will so much as glance as you when they pass on the street in the Netherlands, much less give a friendly half-smile as I am accustomed to doing or utter a generic greeting not unheard-of in a Midwestern suburb; people would rather stand than sit next to a stranger on public transportation; there is no "nice weather we've been having!" chit-chat in line.

So "shocked" is indeed an understatement if I use it to describe my reaction to this woman sitting down on my bench without so much as a "mind if I sit here?" which would certainly proceed such an act if such an act happened at all in the United States - not that I minded because if she went through the formality of asking my permission she would have done so in Dutch, and even if through context I'd have known what she said I'd still have had to ask her to repeat it in English because I would have felt rude simply saying "ja," though really it's rudest of all to keep asking people to speak my language in their country. So thankfully, really, she said nothing; merely sat, ate her ice cream, read some small scrap of paper, and gazed out at nothing.

I didn't really mind of course; why should I mind? It seems out of the ordinary to join a stranger on a park bench even if everyone is there for a sort of company, but it is not offensive, it is not a bother. Still it is a distraction: I tried to read my book and I started thinking: what is she thinking about? what is she thinking about me? certainly she is thinking in Dutch. We could be thinking the exact same things, but with different words. Did she notice I have sharpie all over my legs?¹ Who will leave first? I will leave when I intended whether she stays or goes. But everything I intended, indeed my whole life in some way, has been thrown off course irrevocably by this slight contact with this stranger.

¹ earlier this week I was experimenting with tattoo prototypes. I think I know exactly what I want and where at last - if only I could afford it!

I left at that point - actually after the second-to-last "intended," because I realized I had spiders all over me. I didn't mind the first spider - after all the field work in zoology, I am barely afraid of bugs at all anymore¹ - merely brushed it away, trying not to hurt it. The second spider was in my hair - still all right, because it could have just been the same spider. But the third was without question different; and while I may like spiders just fine individually I have no desire to be a fully-initiated member of an entire society. So I left my lovely park, which was perhaps silly because already I see I brought at least one 8-legged friend home with me. I'm positive they've set up camp in my hair. Still, it's better than bird shit.

¹ "bug" to me does not mean "insect" but rather "any small crawling disgusting critter," so spiders are very definitely bugs; if you want to be technical anyway there is only one order of insects considered "true bugs." So get it right or pay the price.

Passed the statue of Queen Wilhelmina on my way back though: she the grandmother of the current Queen Beatrix and mother of Queen Juliana who just passed away. I can't help but love the fact that for three quarters of a century this country has been "ruled" by women; I find myself strangely disliking the crown prince. But his daughter stands to rule after him. :)

(The quote which follows, as I had no room to properly attribute it, is from my Nation States issue of the day.)