October 31st is not a particularly special day in Amsterdam. Any of the individuals or clubs who would have been otherwise inclined to do something Halloweenish already got it out of their systems over the weekend, it seems. Even so, Halloween is just not that big of a deal here; it's more of an Anglo / American kind of thing. Honestly, I don't miss this particular holiday from my homeland all that much.

But I did notice some street cleaners at work this morning -- using witches' brooms.

It's not that Amsterdam's streetcleaners got these particular brooms out especially for this day of the year, though. It's simply what they use to do their work: long, brown, medium-stiff willow branches, bundled up at the end of a regular broom handle. They've always looked like "witches' brooms" to me, but I guess they're just the kind of tool that works best with getting leaves and cigarette butts and little pieces of litter out from the crevices in cobblestone streets and sidewalks. Or maybe they just like to do things the old way, here in the "Old World." In any event, these witches' brooms / streetcleaners' brooms are a fun little cultural artifact, from my vantage point.

On the other hand, I don't know what to think about the medieval sword that made its way into my kids' school this morning.

The sword was brought in to be a part of a costume -- but for a book report, not for Halloween. Elliot and two of his classmates were doing a presentation about a book called "De Grijze Jager" (which means "the Gray Hunter," though it is actually a translation of an English-language book called "The Ranger's Apprentice"), and they decided to dress up in medieval costume to make things more interesting. They wore hoods and capes. Elliot fashioned himself a crude bow and arrow from sticks and rubber bands. But Elliot's friend Gaitano brought a genuine, Medieval-style, large, heavy, steel sword. He carried it to school in a large hockey bag. And no one in the school seemed to think anything of it. There were no concerns about terrorism or school violence or anything like that (which is just as well since the sword certainly wasn't intended for any of those kinds of purposes). Still, to me a sword in school seemed like a recipe for injury, given the class that it was being introduced to a room full of 9- and 10-year-olds. I didn't know if I should say anything about it or not. The sword didn't seem to raise any eyebrows (at least not in the time that I was there at the school, dropping my kids off). So I just wrote it off as another cultural curiosity...

Still I wonder how I really should deal with things like this. After nine years of dealing with cross-cultural tensions, you'd think I'd have situations like this figured out. But I don't know. What's cultural, and what's common sense? What's funny, and what's fearful? I certainly don't know. It's just everyday life in Amsterdam.

I've recently made some changes in my electronic communications, primarily motivated by a desire to update the way that I synchronize my calendar, contacts, and e-mail across multiple electronic devices. The upshot is that I'm basically adding another e-mail address to my ever-expanding electronic identity.

Marci rolled her eyes when she noticed the changes that I was making (it was a three-day process to get everything set up the way I wanted). She was baffled by the addition of a fifth active e-mail account, when she barely manages to make full use of her one e-mail account. And to be honest, I can completely understand her bewilderment. If Microsoft would have played nice and let me do everything that I wanted to do through its services, I would have gladly processed everything through my Microsoft (Hotmail) account. But because of a few quirks in their system -- or because of my own ineptitude in figuring out their system -- I opted to update my system through Google, who offers a more comprehensive and more flexible package.

It wasn't anything personal. It wasn't a pledge of allegiance to any new corporate empire. It was just a practical decision -- like picking up a passport for a country in which I already function as a de facto citizen and resident. Fortunately in today's electronic environment, I don't have to renounce my citizenship in any of the other on-line "countries." I just get to pick up another passport, like some kind of diplomat or secret CIA agent.

So what does this mean for all my friends and family who want to keep in touch with me, electronically? Absolutely nothing.

The marvel of modern technology is that no one has to update his or her address book unless they want to. Ultimately, it really doesn't matter which of my multiple e-mail addresses is used. I think of it like an elaborate stacking of funnels, and I've got it set up so they all funnel into the same location in the end anyway. A person could send an e-mail to my Hotmail address (which is the account that I've had the longest, going all the way back to 1995 at BGSU), or to my Gmail address (which is relatively new), or to my Amsterdam50 address, or my GCM address, or to the e-mail associated with my personal website -- and they will all reach me simultaneously through my Gmail account. Pretty slick, huh? At least I hope it's pretty slick.

Don't think too much about your answer.

Just go with your gut feeling: What name would you give to the color above? Or to the grid of variations in color here below?

To me, the color swatches above seem yellow. But that might just be me. Or it might just be Americans. I'd be especially curious to know what Dutch people think of these colors -- if they would also naturally trend towards "yellow" or possibly more towards "orange."

All of these colors are lifted from photographs of traffic lights, both in the United States and in the Netherlands. I used Photoshop to select a sampling of color from the brightest, most intense part of photograph featuring a traffic light with the middle segment of the signal illuminated, and that's how I generated the swatches above.

So the reason I ask the question about identifying this color is that I'm intrigued by the cultural differences on this particular point. Americans talk about this part of the traffic light as being the "yellow light," whereas Dutch people (or my American children, raised here in the Netherlands) talk about the same segment as being the "orange light" (oranje licht).

Honestly, I don't think of it as a question of accuracy but rather of perception. I just think it's interesting that the two cultures see it two different ways. It's true for a lot of different elements of culture, not just the color of traffic lights.

So what color would you say it is? Yellow? Orange? Or something else entirely?

Garrison Keillor once articulated the Midwestern attitude towards traveling in a pretty accurate and effective way. In speaking of his fictional home in Lake Wobegon, he said, "People take a dim view of extravagance in Lake Wobegon, and to travel someplace where you do not have relatives to stay over with is frowned on by most. You can travel off someplace for your niece's wedding or your aunt's funeral, but just to higgeldy-piggeldy go off to some foreign country just to see it, I mean, that's what you subsribe to the National Geographic for."

My Midwestern mindset has been modified through the years of living in Europe, still there's a part of me that somewhat struggles with the seeming extravagance of international travel. But fortunately our family was recently able to take a trip to England, while faithfully adhering to the old Midwestern values of visiting friends (and Midwestern friends, no less!) along the way. From our days at Bowling Green State University, Marci and I have been able to maintain contact with friends who now live in both London and in Sheffield. So when the kids' Fall Break came along this year, we rather spontaneously decided to travel to England... and it ended up being a great experience.

We saw some great historical sites (typical for England).

We enjoyed some great weather (unusual for England).

And we appreciated the opportunity to interact with some great people, who bridged the best that both England and Ohio have to offer.

Some of our family's favorite experiences were the ferry from Hoek van Holland to Harwich and an unexpected opportunity to go punting on the Cam in Cambridge...

But really, each of the experiences we had -- including disappointments, like missing the evening choral performance at King's College in Cambridge by just 30 seconds -- were memorable in their own way. The only thing that truly disappointed me was that I never really got to hear anyone say, "Tally-ho," or "Bally-hoo" or "Cherrio."

As much fun as we had on our trip, it was also the exciting, exhausting sort of vacation -- not so much the restful, refreshing sort. So it's also nice to be back in Amsterdam now. But we'll always have fond memories of England.

(In case you'd like to see more pictures from our time in England, there are more posted in the Family Pictures section of our website.)

Our family has been visiting the Olmenhorst Orchard for several years now. In September or October, we take a trip out to the countryside near Lisserbroek, and we pick a few bags of apples. And we take a lot of pictures in the process. It's a fun, folksy, fall thing to do. But it also serves as an interesting measuring stick for our kids' growth and development. Looking at pictures of them doing the same activity at the same location at the same time of the year, from year to year, it's really clear to see how they've changed through the years.

Here are a couple of pictures from earlier today (in 2011):

But look at how different those kids are from just two years previously, in 2009:

Or from 2008:

Or from 2006:

Or from 2005:

Crazy how time flies, isn't it? Crazy... and kind of beautiful, too.

It doesn't seem to be a junk-yard. It doesn't seem to be an art installation. It's just a mountain of bicycles in an area of the neighborhood that's otherwise full of new building projects. I don't know what it is... except that it's interesting.

Here is a list of Monasteries, Abbeys, and Convents scattered throughout the Netherlands, all of which offer short-term accommodations for people seeking silence and spiritual solitude. If you know of any other places that could be added to this list, please let me know by posting a comment to the Facebook version of this content or by sending an e-mail to eric [at] ericasp [dot] com:

Monasteries in Gelderland:

Abdij Koningsoord
Johannahoeveweg 79
6816 VG Arnhem

• Telephone.: 026-4464886
• E-mail: via website at http://www.koningsoord.org/nl/05_co_reageren.htm
• Website: http://www.koningsoord.org/
• Cost: €40 per day (+ €7.50 to rent linens)
• Guests are invited to participate in the regular monastic rhythms (though seemingly not required to do so); an environment of rest and relative silence is encouraged; accommodations are more modern-style, with toilet and shower facilities in each room, as well as internet connectivity

Monasteries in Limburg:

St. Benedictusburg Vaals
Mamelis 39
6295 NA Lemiers (close to Vaals)

• Telephone: 043-306-1353 (11:00 – 12:00, 14:30 – 16:00, & 18:00 – 18:30)
• E-mail: abdij@benedictusberg.nl
• Website: http://www.benedictusberg.nl/
• Cost: €30 per day
• Guests (men only) are encouraged to participate in the regular monastic rhythms

Cisterciënzerabdij 'Lilbosch'
Pepinusbrug 6
6102 RJ  Echt

• Telephone: 047-548-1253 (10:00 – 11:00, 14:00 – 16:00, & 19:00 – 20:00)
• E-mail: No e-mail contact indicated
• Website: http://www.monasteria.org/Nederlands/Abdij%20Lilbosch.htm
• Cost: €18 per day (including linens)
• Guests are welcome to participate in the prayer services (though seemingly not required to do so); an environment of silence and simplicity is encouraged; the abbey’s working farm is also open for guests, and bicycles are also available to use at no extra cost

Priorij Nazareth – Oude Munt Tegelen
Van Wevelickhovenstraat 1
5931 KS Tegelen

• Telephone: 077–373-1572
• E-mail: priorij.nazareth@oudemunt.nl
• Website: http://www.oudemunt.nl/
• Cost: €30 per day (+ €6 to rent bed linens + €2.50 to rent towels)
• Guests are expected to contribute to an environment of rest and relative silence, but there doesn’t seem to be any further expectations as far as participation in the regular monastic rhythms

Monasteries in Noord Brabant:

St. Benedictusabdij De Achelse Kluis
5556 VE Valkenswaard

• Telephone: 040-206-9196 (Mon., Tues., Thurs., Fri. between 14:00 and 16:00)
• E-mail: gastenhuis@achelsekluis.org
• Website: http://www.achelsekluis.org
• Cost: €28 per day (+ €6 to rent linens)
• Guests are asked to deliberately commit themselves to silence, group prayer, and (Christian) spiritual introspection

Abdij van Berne
Abdijstraat 49
5473 AD Heeswijk-Dinther

• Telephone: 041-329-9299 (Mon. – Fri., 14:00 – 16:00)
• E-mail: gastenbroeder@abdijvanberne.nl
• Website: http://abdijvanberne.nl/
• Cost: Not indicated on the abbey’s website
• Guests are expected to participate in the regular monastic rhythms of three worship/prayer services per day

St.Josephsberg
Clarastraat 2
5366 AK Megen

• Telephone: 041-246-2314
• E-mail: zusters.megen@clarissen.nl
• Website: www.clarissen.nl
• Cost: €25 per day (no mention of linen service)
• Guests are permitted to attend the prayer services (but not necessarily expected to do so); in general, an environment of rest and relative silence is encouraged.

Abdij Koningshoeven
Eindhovenseweg 3
5056 RP Berkel-Enschot

• Telephone: 013-540-8508
• Email: info@koningshoeven.nl
• Website: http://www.koningshoeven.nl/nl/ (well-developed and well-maintained)
• Cost: €45 per day (linen service is not available)
• Guests are welcome to participate in a limited scope of the regular monastic rhythms (though it seems that they are more tolerated than expected)

Onze Lieve Vrouwe Abdij
Zandheuvel 90
4901 HX Oosterhout

• Telephone: 016-245-3296 (10.30 – 12:00, 14:30 – 16:30, & 18:00 – 18:30)
• Telephone (for reservations): 016-245-5079 (11:00 – 12:00)
• E-mail: info@olvabdijoosterhout.nl (for information, not reservations)
• Website: http://olvabdijoosterhout.nl/
• Cost: €27.50 per day
• Guests are invited to participate in the regular monastic rhythms (though seemingly not required); the guest accommodations are closed on Mondays

Sint Paulus Abdij
Hoogstraat 80
4901 PK Oosterhout

• Telephone: 016-245-1991
• E-mail: via website at http://www.paulusabdij.nl
• Website: http://www.paulusabdij.nl/
• Cost: €32 - €40 per day (+ €6 to rent linens)
• Guests are welcome to participate in prayer services (but not necessarily expected to do so)

Monasteries in Noord Holland:

Sint Adelbert Abdij
Abdijlaan nr. 26
1935 BH Egmond-Binnen

• Telephone: 072-5061415
• E-mail: gastenpater.adelbertabdij@xs4all.nl
• Website: http://www.abdijvanegmond.nl
• Cost: €40 per day (includes linens)
• Guests are encouraged to participate in prayer services throughout the day, and are also expected to help with cleaning, dishes, etc.

Sint Liobaklooster
Herenweg 85
1935 AH  Egmond Binnen

• Telephone: 072-506 13 88
• E-mail: gastenverblijf@liobaklooster.nl
• Website: http://www.liobaklooster.nl/
• Cost: €50 per day (+ €5 to rent linens)
• Guests are expected to participate in the regular monastic rhythms; an environment of rest and relative silence is encouraged at all times

Monasteries in Overijssel:

Abdij Sion
Vulikerweg 6
7431 PJ  Diepenveen

• Telephone: 057-053-139
• E-mail: info@abdijsion.nl
• Website: http://www.abdijsion.nl/
• Cost: €25 per day (no linen service provided)
• Guests are expected (though not required) to participate in the regular monastic rhythms; an environment of rest and relative silence is encouraged at all times (no televisions, radios, or newspapers)

I'm hoping (and planning) to take a few days next month to enjoy a personal retreat. I know some people who deliberately seek out spiritual solitude, for one week out of every year -- but because of my life circumstances (married with young children, serving as the sole pastor for a relatively small church) I'm just going for three days, and something more along the lines of every three years. Someday I would love to develop a discipline of doing this more regularly and for a more extended period of time, but for now I'm excited at the prospect of three days away on a personal retreat! So now I'm in the preparation phase. And specifically, I'm looking to find a place where I can do a lot of reading, praying, walking, journaling, and just generally seeking God...

But where? That's the real question.

It's recently occurred to me that a lot of what I'm looking for is basically a short-term monastic experience. Yes, there are still several monastic communities (monasteries, convents, abbeys, monk, nuns, etc.) living and functioning here in the Netherlands; and yes, many of them still encourage short-term visitors, in the tradition of Saint Benedict. So I think I might finally be ready to overcome an old aversion to monasteries, dating back to the earliest days of our family living in Europe, when we learned that an old friend had been using monasteries as a meeting point for him and his mistress -- effectively allowing himself to maintain the guise of a pious pastor, even while cheating on his wife and paving the way for an untimely exit from ministry in Amsterdam. Subconsciously, I learned to avoid monasteries in the same way that I avoid brothels. But now I realize how ridiculous it can be to allow such an association to remain unchallenged in my mind. Particularly when it comes to trying to find a location for a personal retreat...

So I'm looking into visiting a monastery, and I'm discovering that monks and nuns aren't always the best webmasters. The information on monasteries in the Netherlands is widely scattered and largely inaccessible. So I'm working on developing a list, which I will eventually publish here on this website, for future reference, and I wonder if there's anyone else out there who might be able to give me some leads to monasteries that I might have overlooked. Have you ever been to a monastery? If so, which one(s)? What separates a good monastic experience from a poor one? What kinds of things might I need to know in preparing for a spiritual retreat in such an environment? Any personal tips or e-mails or Facebook comments would be greatly appreciated.

The autumn seems determined to make a grand entrance, here in the Netherlands, particularly in the form of highly volatile weather patterns. A fifteen-minute bicycle ride starts out with blue skies, cycles through heavy winds and rainfall, and then back to blue skies again by the end of the ride. It can be crazy and unpredictable... But it can also be breathtakingly beautiful. I've probably seen five or six rainbows in the past few days. But the dramatically-illuminated clouds are probably my favorite.

I fear that sooner or later, it must happen to all Asp children. They've all inherited my genetically-inferior sinuses. So today was the day of reckoning for our Olivia: having an operation to remove her adenoids (neusamandelen) and have tubes put in her ears.

As odd as it sounds, Marci and I were really happy for our little girl to go "under the knife." Cold and flu season is bearing down on us quickly -- which can be an extremely challenging time of the year, as the poor drainage in her ears and sinuses often leaves her functionally deaf (like her brother before her). So we really considered it a blessing that the doctors would recommend this course of action and get her scheduled for surgery so quickly. Fortunately, Olivia herself also had a great attitude about the whole thing.

So when Olivia woke up this morning, it was the same as any other morning for the past few years. But by 9:00 she was in surgery. By 10:00 she was in the recovery room. By 11:00 we were on our way out of the hospital. And by the end of the afternoon, Olivia was playing and prancing normally! And the results of the surgery have been surprisingly immediate. When I was vacuuming the living room rug this evening, Olivia had to put her hands over her ears because the sound was so uncomfortably loud (whereas she had never previously been particularly bothered by the noise).

So we're glad that Olivia could have her operation this morning. And we're even more glad that it's all over and done with, now.

For whatever reason, I've run into a number of different people from the city of Hamburg (Germany) over the last few weeks. And for whatever reason, I've found the conversation drifting towards the subject of hamburgers.

My eventual question is juvenile and foolish, but I ask it anyway: "What hamburgers are like in Hamburg?"

"Huh?" is their response. Their tone acknowledges that indeed the question is foolish, absurd.

"You know," I continue, "Frankfurt has its frankfurters. Vienna, or Wien, has its weiners. And Hamburg has its hamburgers, right? Isn't that kind of a German-language thing: giving the city's official meat product the city's name, with an -er suffix?"

"Umm..." they hesitate.

"So, you know, how do hamburgers taste in Hamburg?"

Their answer is pretty disappointing: "The same as everywhere else."

Although Wikipedia suggests that the hamburger may indeed have its roots in Hamburg, it seems that most Hamburgers (the people) don't think of hamburgers (the food) as a local product. When I ask them why it's got the name "Hamburg" in it, they reply that it doesn't have the word "Hamburg" in it. Rather, in their way of thinking, it has the word "ham" in it.

"But that's silly," I say. "There's no ham in a hamburger."

"Well... hamburgers probably used to be made with ham, and they've only recently switched to beef. You know, it's the same way that you Americans add the word 'burger' toother food items, whenever you stick it in between two pieces of bread to create a sort of sandwich. You certainly don't think that cheeseburgers come from Cheseburg, do you?"

I have to smile and laugh at this line of reasoning. But I explain, "No, no, that's just an odd American thing when it comes to food names of any sort. You just change one part of the word, so that it reminds you of a certain similar food item -- but it's really just messing around with the language, more than each segment of the word having an intrinsic meaning."

This, of course, confuses the Hamburgers (people) every time. "What do you mean?" they say. Or "Can you give me another example of this?"

"OK. How about the word 'popsicle?' You know, juice frozen on a stick? Well, you can buy a popsicle, or a Fudgesicle, or a Creamsicle, or a Dreamsicle -- or you could even go outside in the winter and eat a plain, natural icicle... But you can't just eat a sicle, because there's no such thing."

"Oh..." they say. And the conversation basically ends there. They can't provide me with any special insider information -- as it seems like there really may not be much of a historical connection between the city of Hamburg and the food we call a hamburger, at least not to the extent that it survives in the collective consciousness of the German people. Even the history student from Hamburg with whom I spoke didn't have any extra information.

So I give up and decide to try another line of conversation: "So, do you happen to know where bratwurst comes from in Germany?"

What would it be like if we shared in communion similar to the way we share in a dinner party? What if it was something like a special dinner party to mark the observance of a wedding anniversary, or a birthday, or a farewell to a close friend who's moving away? What if it wasn't just bread and wine, but butter and cheese and hummus and pesto -- or maybe even a whole meal? Is it sacreligious to think of communion in this way? We could be eating bread and appetizers, drinking wine or juice -- just talking about news and weather and pasttimes... And then someone could tap his wine glass with a fork and call the room to order for a brief moment of toasting the honored guest at the dinner party: Jesus. Someone could take a hunk of bread from the basket in the middle of the table, give thanks to God for it, and break it to be passed around the table. We could check to make sure that everyone's glass is full from the bottle on the table, and then the bread could be chased down with a sip of the wine, saying: "We do this in remembrance of Jesus!"

It sounds like such an appealing remembrance to me. Yet in all my experience of Christian worship, communion has always been a very solemn and ceremonious occasion. It's all about contemplation and contrition. We wear serious looks on our faces. We keep silent. We listen to slow songs about Jesus' sacrifice, and then we eat the bread and drink the wine without making eye contact with any of the other believers in the room. It's an intensely private experience, between each person and God.

Of course, I get it on a certain level. Communion is designed to be a moment of remembrance and reflection on the death of our Messiah, our Christ -- and death is generally a pretty solemn thing. Furthermore, the Bible does indeed explicitly state that, "A man ought to examine himself before he eats of the bread and drinks of the cup" (1 Corinthians 11:23-32). Communion is not to be taken flippantly, without any thought abouts its deeper meaning, lest it becomes a religious sham.

Still, does it really have to be solemn, silent, and self-contained?

Wasn't communion originally designed to a communal act of celebration and proclamation? When Jesus first introduced the practice to his disciples, on the eve of his crucifixion, it was in the setting of one of the most beloved Jewish holidays of the year: the Passover Dinner celebration. It was sitting around a table together, sharing food and drink and conversation. Throughout the book of Acts, the followers of Jesus are regularly "breaking bread" in each others' homes -- and the context often makes it difficult to tell if the situation is specifically about observing the Lord's Supper together or enjoying a full meal together (or both). Even when Paul wrote to the Corinthians about self-examination and giving proper recognition to the potent symbolism within communion -- he wasn't dictating absolute solemnity. He was merely seeking to balance out the inequality and excesses of the Corinthians' communion celebrations, which could tend towards gluttony and drunkenness. It seemed like everyone in Corinth understood that communion was supposed to be about fun and fellowship; they just needed to be reminded to not get carried away with themselves and to include the remembrance of Jesus' death within all the feasting. This is how I read the Bible, anyway. To me, it's hard to ignore the fact that communion was designed to be a communal celebration. Wasn't it? Am I missing anything?

My friend Michaël and I were talking about this recently, and ever since I've been feeling inspired to include this moment of remembrance within special church dinners, or Thanksgiving celebrations, or meals at home. With other believers in our house, it could be a moment of mutual reminiscence for a personal acquaintance. Or with non-believers, it could be a moment of proclamation -- perhaps even a potential conversation-starter. I don't know why these thoughts have never really occurred to me before... But I'm realizing more and more that the ways we typically celebrate communion may be more closely tied into medieval power structures (i.e. administering sacraments) than they are to 1st Century Christian practice. And I'm curious to consider the implications of alternative forms of communion.