Sisterchicks in Wooden Shoes! Read Online Free PDF

say it all in the right order.”
    “What if all you want is a simple cup of coffee?”
    “Then you have to ask for ‘drip.’”
    “It’s an entire coffee subculture, isn’t it?” Noelle said. “We have those fancy coffee chains here, but I rarely go to them. The last time I did, I was with my girls, and they did the ordering for me. Sounds like that was a good thing. I would have been lost on my own. Ordering will be much simpler here.”
    We stepped into a warm, small space that had the feel of a bakery because of the limited yet tempting assortment of treats inside the display case. An older couple sitting at the table in the corner stared at us. I glanced at them a second time and got the feeling they weren’t staring in a creepy way but rather in a bored way, as if we were the best entertainment available on a dull afternoon. Why sit home and watch television when you can walk to the local and watch people?
    Noelle greeted the woman in the white smock behind the counter and ordered for us.
    “Would you like to share a
gebak
, or would you like your own?” Noelle pointed to what looked like a flat apple tart on a plate inside the display case.
    “I could eat a whole piece. It looks good.”
    “It
is goot
,” the woman behind the counter said in stiff English.
    “I’m sure it is. Tank you.”
    I meant to say “thank you,” but hearing her
goot
instead of
good
prompted me to respond with “tank you.”
    Noelle gave me a quick glance as if to be sure I wasn’t making fun of the woman’s accent. I wasn’t, but my face warmed, and I quickly stepped to the side while Noelle paid.
    The people in the corner still were watching us. I hoped I wouldn’t do anything to cause a scene. At the same time, I felt as if I should do a little tap dance or finger-puppet show before sitting down.
    Opting to ignore the couple, I sat with my back to them. Noelle placed a small ceramic cup of dark, steaming coffee in front of me. The apple gebak was served on a plate with a fork balanced on the side. I took one bite of the dense fruit pastry and made an
mmm
sound.
    “Lekker? “Noelle asked.
    “Is that what it’s called? Lekker? Is that Dutch for ‘cake’?”
    “No,
lekker
is the word for ‘delicious.’ If it’s really good, you go like this.” She opened her hand and put her flat palm to the side of her thick, blond hair. “You say, ‘Lekker,’ and then you do this.” She waved her hand slightly as if fluffing up her hairdo.
    “What does that mean?”
    “That you like it. It tastes delicious.”
    “But why are you waving to your ear?”
    Noelle grinned. “That is what it looks like, isn’t it? I hadn’t thought of it that way before. I have no idea why we do it or what it means, but if you like something that’s tasty, that’s what the Dutch do.”
    I gave it a try, waving my open palm in front of my ear. Noelle nodded her approval. “My first lesson in Dutch nuances. Keep them coming.” I took a small sip of the hot coffee and swallowed it quickly. The strong taste prompted me to cough.
    “Are you okay?”
    “I hate to admit this, but I think I’ve turned into a coffee snob. Not even a coffee snob. I’m a latte snob. This tastes really strong to me.”
    “Oh, right! The five-percent milk.”
    “Two percent.”
    “I’ll get some milk for you.” Noelle went to the counter and returned with a small pitcher.
    As I lightened up my coffee, I said, “I hadn’t realized it until now, but I barely recognize the real stuff anymore.”
    “It’s all right. You don’t have to change over to the Dutch way of doing things simply because you arrived an hour ago.” She winked. “We’ll give you a week.”
    I laughed. “A week is all I have.”
    My statement stuck in my throat as soon as I said it. It was as if I had spoken a self-fulfilling prophecy. After this week I didn’t know what kind of life or schedule I would have. Would I be able to drink coffee if the doctor put me on a restricted