Back into the rhythm

And then that day comes.
The day when the alarm clock rings again at a quarter past six. The day when the lunchbox once more sits filled on the kitchen counter, as if it had never lost its purpose.

Outside, the fresh Dutch morning air hangs sharp and clean, sliding into your lungs as we walk toward the car and the motorcycle. Jeroen rides off through the rain toward Hilversum, while I stay closer to home and drive my car toward Veenendaal.

On the highway there’s a long traffic jam, a grey ribbon of motionless cars that instantly reminds you that you are truly back in the Netherlands. Luckily, I still remember the small back roads and eventually pull into the parking lot well on time.

The moment I open the door of the practice, the familiar scent of disinfectant greets me. It’s the kind of smell I inhaled daily for years, a smell that almost feels like coming home. A spontaneous smile appears on my face. My treatment room is already completely prepared, neatly arranged by the assistant. Luxury, I think. A luxury I had almost forgotten.

I walk upstairs to change, put on my uniform again as if it had never been gone, and when I return downstairs I log in on the computer. A little later I call my first client from the waiting room. We exchange a few warm and familiar words before starting the treatment.

And there it is: the sound that is so familiar to me, the airflow machine, the small beeps of the equipment, the rhythm of removing tartar. Within two minutes, it feels as if I never left. My hands naturally find their way along molars, edges and tiny corners. The shapes are familiar, the movements automatic. It almost feels as if my body is happy to do this again. As if it recognizes something deeply stored.

At the end of the treatment I see that radiant smile. The real, relieved smile of someone who can step back into the world feeling fresh again. And I feel proud. Not because of something big, but because of something small and valuable: a beautiful start to the day.

Before you know it, your first client becomes your first workweek. A week in which I try to remember as much as possible: all the routines, all the systems, all the little tricks that keep a practice running smoothly. Mostly with the quiet hope that nobody notices a new colleague walking around. A temporary colleague perhaps, but one who wants to give her very best.

My body needed those first two days to adjust to the Dutch pace. The long days, the constant rhythm without the pauses of sailing life. But it adjusted. Of course it did.

And as I step into my car again after a week, I think only one thing:
I’m back. Not forever, but completely.

Jeroen back at Hanno

or Jeroen it was much the same. The big difference with the past is that he no longer drives his own van to work. Every morning he first gets on the motorcycle for a one-hour ride to Hilversum. There he picks up the company van and then drives on to his clients.

Clients he often still knows from before we left to go sailing. Some addresses have barely changed. And although there is little time during a workday to properly catch up, there is always a moment during the coffee break to laugh and exchange a few stories.

Despite the cold he rides his motorcycle almost every day. Not because it is so comfortable, but because it’s just a bit faster through the traffic. And traffic… we have certainly been reacquainted with that in the Netherlands.

When he comes home in the evening, dinner is usually already waiting. Sometimes Hanneke has cooked, sometimes I have, and he can simply sit down and join us. Thursday evenings are often reserved for friends. He drops by, stays for a bite to eat, and later returns home with stories from the past.

Just like me, his body also had to adjust again during that first week. Different muscles, different movements. After a few days we both had sore muscles in places we had almost forgotten existed.

A short trip to Spain

Jeroen’s parents spend four to five months each year in Spain. This year they were planning to return to the Netherlands at the beginning of March. But since Jeroen had not seen his parents in person for more than two and a half years, we decided waiting really wasn’t an option.

So he booked a small five-day trip to Spain.

No work for a moment. No appointments, no full agenda. Just being together. Giving a hug that should have happened years ago. Sitting at the kitchen table with coffee, telling stories, laughing about old memories, and slowly catching up on everything that has happened over the past years.

Because no matter how often you call or video call, nothing replaces the moment when you truly see each other again. Walking together, sharing a meal, simply sitting next to each other and knowing the distance has disappeared for a while.

For Jeroen it was exactly what he needed. A moment back with his parents, back to that familiar feeling of home. And for his parents it was just as special to finally hold their son in their arms again.

Christmas holiday’s

We usually celebrate the holidays just a little differently than most people.

Christmas itself is often already busy enough for everyone, so our big family celebration usually takes place a little earlier. Together with the families of my brother and sister, which have grown quite large with partners and children, we gather at someone’s home. Sometimes at my brother’s place, sometimes at my sister’s. Who hosts that year doesn’t really matter, as long as we can all sit around the table together again.

It has become a tradition everyone looks forward to.

Everyone brings gifts, and of course each gift comes with a poem. Some poems are sweet, others a little teasing, and every now and then there’s one that makes the whole room burst into laughter. The presents are opened one by one while everyone watches curiously. Sometimes there’s loud laughter over a perfectly chosen gift, sometimes someone has to explain what it actually is.

After that we sit down for sushi. Plates full of rolls, chopsticks passing from hand to hand, while people talk, laugh and catch up all at once. The house fills with voices, stories, and that wonderful chaotic warmth that appears when everyone has something to say. These are the kinds of evenings that always seem to pass far too quickly.

Christmas Day itself we celebrated with Teunis’ family. Since last year we have joined their family tradition, and it feels incredibly warm. It’s the kind of family where the door opens immediately and you feel welcome right away. Within minutes you are part of the conversations, the jokes and the stories, as if you had been there for years.

It’s cheerful, lively and full of laughter. Exactly the way Christmas should be.

And while we sit there, I realize again how special it is to experience these moments with family again after such a long time at sea.

The practice

My new workplace suits me surprisingly well.

The practice feels young, dynamic and energetic. And honestly, sometimes I have to laugh when I realize I am by far the oldest practitioner there. My colleagues are about fourteen to twenty years younger than me. But that actually makes it fun.

Their young energy, new ideas and fresh perspectives are truly refreshing. It has also been a long time since I worked in a practice with so many colleagues. During the holidays this also means team outings and moments where you get to know each other differently. It quickly makes you feel part of the team.

There is also a funny coincidence.

Luc, the dentist and owner of the practice, and his wife Merel, who is also a dental hygienist, once met each other in a dental practice in Utrecht. And it turns out I once worked as a substitute in that very same practice. Funny how small the dental world sometimes is.

Working together with the dentists Luc, Roos and Roger is incredibly pleasant. Everyone collaborates, thinks along, and there is an open and supportive atmosphere where you can do your work well.

It’s also great working with my fellow hygienists Renate and Merel. And meanwhile I follow the journey of Fleur, the hygienist I am temporarily replacing, through Polarsteps. While I am back in the work rhythm here in the Netherlands, she is traveling through Asia. Somehow that feels very familiar again.

Another thing I notice is how hard everyone works in the practice. The assistants make sure everything is ready, materials are available on time, and the treatment rooms keep running smoothly. From a distance it almost looks effortless, but you can clearly see how much dedication goes into that.

And then of course there is the front desk.

In my opinion perhaps the most difficult place in the entire practice. They are the first point of contact for everyone who walks in or calls. And let’s be honest: people are not always very reasonable when they are in pain or worried. Sometimes expectations come in that simply cannot be met.

Because they are the first to deal with that, their patience is regularly tested. I truly admire that.

I experienced it myself during my very first week. Just as I was about to call my client from the waiting room, someone loudly announced she didn’t want to be treated by me. That kind of reaction can startle you for a moment.

But I understand it too. If you’ve been treated by the same practitioner for years, it can be unsettling when suddenly someone new is standing there.

I calmly guided her to the treatment room and explained the situation. Eventually she did sit in the chair, though somewhat reluctantly. Looking back, it might have been better to offer her another appointment. Because from that moment on you feel that, in that client’s eyes, you simply cannot do anything right anymore. It wasn’t the most pleasant treatment, but fortunately it remained the only experience like that.

The rest of the clients responded positively and enthusiastically. And once again you realize something that is always true: you simply cannot please everyone.

And that’s okay.

In fact, for the first time in a long time I have found a place where I think… I might actually like to keep working here. Quite special for me, because I always said I was certain I would start my own practice again one day.

Evenings full of catching up

Besides work, we try to spend as much time as possible with family and friends.

On average we sit at someone’s table about two evenings a week. With friends, family or acquaintances. Usually we plan this in advance, because with busy schedules spontaneous meetings are not always easy.

Thursdays are sometimes different for Jeroen. Because I work until nine in the evening, he occasionally drops in somewhere spontaneously for coffee or a bite to eat. By the time I come home, he often already has a few stories to share.

When we go out together, there is food, laughter and lots of catching up. About everything that has happened over the past years. About life here in the Netherlands, but of course also about our adventures at sea.

Because although many people follow our journey, it’s different when you can tell the stories together at the table. And usually curiosity quickly turns to the stories that never make it into the blogs.

Sometimes it feels as if we are trying to make up for four months of social backlog.

But honestly, we enjoy it. After such a long time at sea it is wonderful to be among the people you have known for so long.

And while we sit there talking and laughing, we also realize that this is only temporary. Because somewhere, on the other side of the world, our boat is patiently waiting for us.

Meanwhile …… the boat

And of course one big topic keeps running through everything: the boat.

We had hoped the gearbox we brought from Fiji could be replicated here. Unfortunately it turned out to be too complex. The part was simply too specific, and the risk that it would not work perfectly was too great. Since it involves a significant investment, we didn’t want to take that risk. If we do it, we prefer to do it right the first time.

So we made a decision that took a moment to digest.

We decided to order a completely new C-drive conversion from Amel.

The entire C-drive system in our Amel Super Maramu is still made of aluminum. In the late 1990s Amel already redesigned and replaced this system with a stronger version made from a different material. Yet the aluminum system in our boat has held up surprisingly well all these years.

The problem is that Amel no longer has spare parts for this old system. Some components simply no longer exist. The only real solution is therefore to convert the entire system to the newer C-drive used in the Amel 54.

And that means quite a lot.

There will be two new gearboxes, a new Vetus coupling, and new engine mounts will need to be built under our engine. The engine will have to be repositioned slightly so everything will align perfectly again.

Then comes the real precision work: everything must be aligned exactly so the drivetrain can run smoothly and without stress.

For that purpose Gerard, a former colleague of Jeroen, specially made an alignment tool for us. With that tool we will be able to check very precisely in Fiji whether everything is perfectly aligned once the new parts are installed.

When we finally placed the order, Jeroen and I looked at each other for a moment. Without words we knew we had made the right choice. Sometimes you simply have to choose the most reliable solution, even if it is not the easiest one.

It does mean we will have to keep working hard for a while longer.

And now the long waiting begins.

Waiting until everything is produced. Waiting until it is shipped. And above all hoping it arrives safely in Fiji.

Because while we are temporarily part of daily life here in the Netherlands, My Motu is quietly waiting in the hurricane pit of Vuda Marina. Patiently, as if she knows we will return.

But that will still take a few months.

Until the ocean calls us again.