Den Haag prt.I (from a purely observational, non-bias stand point)

There are two attractive male species that inhabit Den Haag.

Specimen 1: late 70's Revivalists

These long-haired radicals sport sunglasses on cloudy days and bright, reflective shirts when it's sunny. This particular breed has also been known to wear pants so tight, they put Mick Jagger to shame.
American Example: Metro Station



Specimen 2: Euro Boy

Meticulously groomed male figures whose images, from billboards to bus stop advertisements, are everywhere. Button-up shirts and argyle sweaters are found accompanied by fitted, god sent, dress pants in which every assless man and on-looking female is thankful for.
American Example: The Jonas Brothers or "Chuck Bass" of Gossip Girls


As of late, I'm prefering the Revivalists- they're less intimitating and more.. um..available? <- (a.k.a not gay). Though to be completely frank with you, I haven't actually interacted with either breed of male... But I have spoken many times with my gentlman neighbors! Unfortunately, I have made absolutely no progress with them either. Yes they are quite dashing and there are plenty of young ladies that have gone out with married, 90 year old men- so it's nothing that hasn't been done. But for the life of me, I can't get passed the false teeth. Call me shallow, but a girl has to draw the line somwhere.
For me, it's 60.

Which brings me to my next subject! Chez moi! My house! My place of residence! During the first week in which we arrived, my mom had a habit of looking out the window. From our window you can see people, dogs, cars, bicycles, and all that's happening outside of our apartment complex. On about Saturday, she says to me "I can't look outside the window anymore."

Me: Why? Does it make you think about Alaska too much? ( I was worried she was getting homesick)

Mom: Mmm.. no. When I first started looking, I only saw older people. After a couple of days, all I saw were old people. So I said to myself "Do we live in the senior citizen complex?". I walked with Ruby yesterday and we met some neighbors. They're all senior citizens! I feel so old. It makes me depressed to see all of them. I like old people, but I don't want to be old. Look at my face Kimmia, all of these wrinkles...

And so and so on. But you catch my drift. This isn't quite the cabana party abode I was hoping for prior to arrival. It's everything but muscles and youth here. Our across the hall neighbor's name is Louis. He's at least 70 and his wife is 56. Down a floor lives a separated 80 year old by the name of Corey. I could go on, but this blog would become less about the excitement of life and more about my mom's oncoming (or perpetual? we're not sure yet) mid-life crisis. Oh the irony of life. Hopefully I'll have better luck in France. So anyways! Yes! I live in a Senior Citizen Complex! Jealous?

Besides the extreme demographics, the apartment is pretty sweet. My room is of modest size and there is a shower and sink literally in the bedroom. There's also a porch attached to my room that overlooks a small pond and numerous weeping willows. Check it out for yourself:

Here's the seriously awesome Dutch toilet*

and our kitchen

So that's some of my life so far Dutch boys, elderly homes, and toilets. I'll be updating this week again with some more exciting footage and awe-inspiring photos of flowers and shopping...

*If you want to see an insightful film I made on the Dutch toilet, check it out!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wytrja8YXTM