Over the years I've had the privilege of traveling to Europe for work several times a year, and each trip I seem to pick up a little piece of my host country's culture that stays with me fondly. I found a new appreciation for the Celtic art styles in Norway, discovered that I actually like Herring while in Denmark, elevated my pallet for Trappist Ales in Belgium, was rendered speechless by the Crown Jewels in England, and of course became an even greater fan of my beloved "fromage" in France.

I've spent more time in The Netherlands than any other country in Europe, and it's a place I've always felt at home. I know my family origins, and I'm fairly certain that I'm not from Holland, but could the ancestry books be wrong? I adore tulips, would live in a windmill if I could, I consider crossing the four lanes of pedestrian + bicycle + tram + car traffic a sport, love shoes, live for pomme frites, wear scarves all year long, could eat seafood everyday, and am one of the few people in the world who think that the language is pretty. But, no, I'm assured that I'm from German and Spanish decent.

This morning I went to get in my car to drive to work and had an overwhelming urge to ride my bicycle instead...so I did. I happily pedaled the two mile journey to work with the wind in my hair and a smile on my face. I rang my bell to signal my approach to the children walking to school, waved to the crossing guards, and smiled at the construction workers. I was engulfed in a strange sense of peace and freedom--what a way to start a morning! All this time I've made fun of "The Dutchies" for their selection of transportation, but could I be a long-lost Netherlander?

If I start bringing in bitterballen for lunch I may need to start questioning my parents.