Instagram is a nice way to keep in touch with people that you wouldn’t see or hear from without Instagram. It seems to have become a medium for older people. Now a whole generation already grew up thinking: “Huh? Was there ever no Instagram? My gran has been on it all her life, as far as I know.”
Everyone over 30 is on Facebook; the young people on Instagram or TikTok
So are we. If you want to let the world know or have something to sell, you’re on Facebook; you have something to show, you’re on Instagram; if you’re bored, you go to TikTok; if you are looking for a job, click on LinkedIn. There are guests who contact us via Messenger, asking if anything is available. They can sometimes wait for days for an answer, because Messenger doesn’t sit well with me. Don’t know why. Maybe because it’s meta-smart.
I get on Facebook twice a week, actually. On Saturday. To post the blog. And on Sundays to share it in groups. Then I also look at Messenger, but they often send notifications about old messages, so I’m not very fanatical.
Too bad for Emmely, because she had posted a message on Instagram to announce her arrival
“Are we still here? And are they welcome? And was it okay for them to come by then-and-then?”
Fortunate that Emmely didn’t care that she didn’t get an answer, because last week a young woman suddenly stood in front of my kitchen door who I immediately recognized as herself: “Look at that? Emmely!” Emmely was a volunteer during the time we were still building up. There were donkeys that needed daily care, rooms and houses that needed to be cleaned. This was done by a group of about 4 to 8 volunteers.
“Oh, you remember who I am,” she said, somewhat surprised, “how nice… we’re on holiday, and I thought I should show the guys the Termas, I had such a good time here!” (Always great to hear.) The guys, that’s a group from high school. Friends then, and always remained friends.
It’s quite a group, and they regularly go out or on holiday together, but this time the three of them were free for a holiday in Portugal.
Nice, a group of about ten people, who even moved back to Deventer because the others were also moving back to Deventer, and that suddenly made Deventer a lot nicer! Studying in Groningen or Amsterdam* is great, but it is even more great if you can simply return to your source afterwards.
“I’m married,” she says, when we sit at the large table with a large glass of sparkling water. “So I now have a double name,” she laughs. “And my husband too, that’s possible now, you can add each other’s names.” “Wow, that’s good,” I say, “that’s a bit like the portuguese way. Here you can have a maximum of four surnames: one from your mother, one from your father, and possibly two from your grandparents.”
“But where is your husband?” I ask, while casually looking at the young man next to me, who immediately starts shaking his head no. “No, no, it’s not me, I’m innocent!” he shouts, and Emmely joins in: “No, the cold side is not allowed to come on one of our trips. Only the friends from school are allowed to go on excursions and holidays.” Her friend sputters: “School teacher! Excursions …!”
“Yes, I am a school teacher,” Emmely explains, “I teach Dutch to refugee children. I now have a class of Ukrainians. Sometimes difficult. They all understand each other, but me not yet. They sometimes are talking to each other and I don’t know what it’s about.” Both of her high school friends immediately chime in with: “But you’re a born teacher, so that’s going really well!”
We sit and chat like this for a while until they have to move on again. It’s their last day, back home tomorrow. Once they’re gone and I’m walking through the bathhouse, smiling a bit nostalgically, I suddenly remember that I completely forgot to take a photo, to ask if they want to be in the blog, that I don’t know at all how I can contact Emmely to ask that …
although … wait … Instagram!
It works. Apparently Messenger sits well with Emmely, because I get an answer very quickly. It even comes with a few photos. It’s a pity that I’m such an idiot that I can’t find them after a few days. That whole Meta-Messenger-messaging thing is way too smart for me.
Contact in real life is so much simpler.
- Amsterdam is well-known of course. Groningen maybe – university city in the north. We don’t expect you to know Deventer, a snug little town in the east part of the Netherlands. But now you know.
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We moved here in 2000 from Rotterdam, Holland to the Termas-da-Azenha, Portugal.
A big step, especially with two small children.
We are busy to rebuild one of portugals cultural heirlooms: Termas-da-Azenha, an old spa which has been turned into several holiday houses, rooms and a campsite.
You’ll find mosaics and paintings everywhere.
Since 2018 we call ourselves the first B&B&B in the world – Bed & Breakfast & Bathrobes. You can buy a home-made unique bathrobe/housecoat with us.
Each week a little blog about what is happening around us. An easy read. A few minutes in another world. A little about what it going on in Portugal. If you plan your holiday to Portugal, it might be a nice preparation
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