The Netherlands-8/22/04 to 10/14/10

10/9/04- Your weekly wndmill and tulip update

Yesterday I ate a waffle out of a vending machine. It tasted exactly like I expected a waffle out of a vending machine to taste. I just realized that I haven’t updated in over a week- I don’t usually like to go that long because of my persistent fear that if I don’t keep those in my life constantly entertained they will cease to love me. Please love me. I promise I’ll be funny. Please… So here’s some purposeless blathering just for the sake of having something to say. Next week is midterm week here at UCU. Of course, they don’t come right out and call it midterms; so at first, when my professors began simultaneously assigning papers and exams, I thought they had all suddenly become raging assholes bent on making me miserable. But no, it’s nothing personal- just midterms. My parents are coming to visit next week. The only child syndrome knows no bounds. They have disguised the intentions of their trip by combining it with a visit to London and Belgium This way it appears as if they are simply passing through the country, and oh, while we’re in the neighborhood we figured we might as well stop by…Actually I shouldn’t mock them for wanting to see me (especially since I was only moments ago begging for love from the semi-anonymous blog-reading community). I do miss my family and I’m looking forward to showing them around Utrecht and taking them to Amsterdam (because hookers and drugs should be a part of every family vacation- oh yeah, and Van Gogh too). I watched the second debate this morning. I thought it was another clear victory for Kerry (so very lanky, so very presidential), but I will grant that President Bush did sound better in this debate than in the first one. I think this is primarily because of the format of the debate- he was able to use his folksy/personable persona more effectively in the town hall style debate than in the formal Lincoln-Douglas style (or whatever you call it). But all in all, it is still Kerry who is benefiting most from these debates. They give him a chance to defend himself against claims of wishy-washyness and also to show that he has a personality. Plus, his attacks against the various misdeeds of the President do, if nothing else, establish a sort of reasonable doubt regarding Bush’s success as president. I think this could prove very influential among undecided voters…but then, I’m a left-wing nut-job who would vehemently support anything (animal, vegetable, or mineral) that was opposing Bush in this election, so please recognize that the perspective of my commentary may be just a tad skewed. Today I apologized to a Vietnamese student (you know what for). He was both amused and appreciative. Ok, that’s all you need to know for this week…now can I have a hug?

10/1/04- Bush uses the “F” word repeatedly, fails to grasp meaning

Last night (or rather, very early this morning) I joined Dutch and American students in the UCU college bar to watch the first of this month’s debates between Senator Kerry and President Bush. The debate began at 9:00pm EST, which means that it was 3:00am in The Netherlands when the candidates took their podiums, but despite the early hour, the bar was packed. I can only name a handful of people in California who would be willing to stay up for this event when they had class at 8:45 the next day. An yet here, half a world away was a room packed full of students with a compelling interest in an election in which they can’t participate for the leader of a country of which they are not citizens. Upon witnessing this spectacle, I was impressed, both by the political awareness of my fellow students, but also in the weight which the election must carry to attract such enthusiastic international attention. Namely, the hope that Bush will be ousted and that Kerry will be able fix the gross errors of the previous administration. This message came through quite clearly when, as Bush took the podium at the beginning of the debate, the bar erupted in a chorus of boos, groans, and shouts of “sucks!” and “fuck you!” As the debate progressed, the kids in the bar remained vocal, cheering for the statements they liked, booing those they disapproved of. Most appreciated comment of the evening: Kerry’s referenced a quote by de Gaulle about the value of the word of the president of the U.S. and then asked if the president’s word still held that power today. Least appreciated comment: Bush’s explanation for not joining the international criminal court in The Hague…for obvious reasons, this did not please the Dutch students (they’re rather proud to have their country as home to UN courts). I’d like to take a moment to briefly address the content of the debate, or rather, one element of the debate that I found particularly unnerving: The rhetoric of President Bush; namely his use of the word “freedom.” Through the course of the debate, President Bush used this word with such frequency that I began to think that boxes of it were on sale for half-off at Walmart. He spoke of bringing freedom to the Iraqi people, of maintaining freedom at home in the U.S., and of securing freedom for all of the oppressed and downtrodden across the globe. I noticed through out the course of the evening that he tended to use the term freedom most frequently to contrast something that he is fighting against, ie. Instead of chaos in Iraq, freedom. Instead of terror in Afghanistan, freedom. Instead of fear in America, freedom. And so on. What I wish to know is what exactly is the meaning of freedom that Bush intends for us to take from this frequently usage. Is it the freedom of speech, of religion, of press that is guaranteed by the 1st article of the US constitution and so often associated with the basic concept of freedom? Or is it freedom from political oppression, freedom to vote in democratic elections and choose one’s own government? Is it economic freedom, freedom to buy, sell, and trade without restriction, freedom to employ whom you choose and work when you want? Is it freedom from tyranny, freedom from persecution? Or is it freedom from fear of physical harm, freedom from poverty, freedom from hunger? There are many different kinds of freedom. It is a complex notion that has been debated by philosophers and political theorists for centuries. Furthermore, not all people desire the same kinds of freedom, and what may constitute freedom for one person can be construed as a restriction of freedom of another. So I have to wonder just what Bush means when he throws the term around so…freely. My best guess it that when President Bush says “freedom,” what he is referring to is a concept of freedom that is generally associated with that of American democracy, and when we says that he will spread and promote freedom, what this may most closely translate to is, we will spread and promote the American ideal. However, this is just a guess. I guess my major concern is that President Bush may not possess a full understanding of the complexity of this term, and as a result, may not be at all capable of establishing or maintaining any form of freedom for anyone. Furthermore, I feel that it is important to note that, regardless of which notion(s) of freedom President Bush may be ascribing to, his pledge to bring freedom to others (specifically Afghanistan and Iraq) is inherently flawed. This is because you simply cannot “bring” freedom to others. Freedom is something that must be gained by those who seek it, for if a group is to truly be free, in any sense of the word, they must define for themselves what that freedom is and under what terms it can exist. To impose freedom on others is an inherently contradictory concept. For, if freedom is dictated from the outside, then it cannot possibly be called freedom. So, be it political freedom, economic freedom, freedom of expression, freedom of religion, freedom from fear, and so and so forth, it must be the job of those who seek freedom to establish freedom for themselves, and while it may be possible for others to help to build the conditions for that freedom to develop, freedom cannot be given. In this way (as well as numerous others), President Bush’s claim that he will spread freedom throughout the world rings hollow, as nothing more than a catchy slogan.

9/24/04- Thought from The Hague

Point of correction: The Peace Palace is not actually where Milosevic is being tried. That would be at the UN court of somethingorother. The Peace Palace is also a UN court, but it’s a court of arbitration (actually two separate courts), rather than a war crimes tribunal. The court was founded in 1899 at the insistence of Czar Nicholas II (interesting, considering how quickly things went south for him…) and construction of the actual building was completed in 1913 (again, interesting, in respect to the mass failure of arbitration that would occur just a year later). So long story short, no, I did not get to poke Milosevic with a stick. (flag outside of the Peace Palace on a gray day in The Hague) Also while in The Hague, I got to sit in on a session of Dutch Parliament. It was all the excitement of watching C-SPAN, but in a language I couldn’t understand. Whoever thought government could be so thrilling? (Parliament Building) Located right across the canal from the Dutch Parliament building is the American embassy. But not for long. The embassy is in the process of being relocated to a new building on the outskirts of The Hague. The reason: were there to be an attack on the U.S. embassy at its current location, many institutions crucial to the Dutch government would also be in jeopardy due to their close proximity to the embassy. So it’s being moved to a less central location. And in this way, it is clear that we are winning the war on terror. Making the world safer for Americans and our allies at home and abroad. Yes, I feel safer already (The U.S. embassy @ current location. Fencing for security + police at all points of entrance and on patrole in front of the building at all times)

9/21/04- This is why no one wants to play with you.

The condition of the kitchen in our suite was beginning to bear a striking resemblance to that of the Jewish Co-op. I found this odd, considering that only a few of my suite-mates actually cook with any regularity, one of those is so anal-retentive that she insists on informing me whenever she finds a hair in the shower that she suspects may be mine (I have nicknamed her “the bathroom fascist”, and refer to her as such whenever given the opportunity, provided she isn’t in the room at the time). And yet, the kitchen has been allowed to fall into a sufficiently plague-worthy state. Now, this hasn’t been that big of a deal for me, since I don’t cook, but I must say, I did get pretty pissed off when I opened the refrigerator door this morning and a salad fell on me. Yeah, cleaning vegetables off of the floor and picking lettuce off of my shirt isn’t really the way I like to start off my day. So I decided to address the repulsive kitchen issue in a manner that I felt was most appropriate for my current living situation- the passive-aggressive note, smacking of sarcasm, taped in a highly visible location. Those in academic circles often refer to this innovative technique as “The Klotz method of non-confrontational problem solving”, as pioneered by Joel Klotz during his association with the great social theorists of the 4th floor Morison school of thought. Here’s what my note said: “When I opened the refrigerator this morning a salad fell on me. Sorry to whoever’s salad this was- I was simply not expecting the presence of precariously placed food. Then, when I opened the trashcan to throw the salad away, a family of gnat-like creatures flew out. Not wanting to disrupt their natural habit, I elected not to agitate then further by throwing anything else away. I have also noticed a number of these delightful critters living in the pot of pasta that has been left on the floor. They seem to have established quite the ecological stronghold. So, I was thinking, perhaps we should consider contacting the government and looking into having our kitchen declared a protected natural preserve, that way these creatures could live and breed in peace without the disruption of human intervention as so often happens to vulnerable communities of animals in this modern era. Please let me know what you think of my idea. –Leyna Krow” Yeah, I know, not very nice. But please understand, I had just had a salad dumped on me, and was then assaulted by gnats. So I left this note on the fridge, and went to the DH to get breakfast. When I came back to the suite, no more than an hour later, I found that the kitchen had been cleaned, the trash emptied, and my note removed. There it is folks, just another testament to the power of passive-aggressive non-confrontation. On a less hostile note- I am going on a field trip tomorrow to the The Hague with my Dutch class. I’m excited; I haven’t been on a field trip since humanities class in high school (unless you want to count camping with Intro to Marxism…but I’m not sure if that excursion can be considered a “field trip” due to its general lack of educational content and numerous instances of drug-use). We’ll be going to see a session of the Dutch parliament (because there’s nothing more exciting than watching government in action in a language you can’t understand) and then touring the Peace Palace, home to the world court. I’m going to ask whoever’s in charge if they’ll let me poke Slobodan Milosevic with a stick. I think that would be both viscerally and morally satisfying.

9/17/04- Cross-cultural behavior: a theory of the universality of expression

Hmmm…sitting in front of my computer on a Friday night. I’m so cool, sometimes I just can’t cope. I can’t help but wonder what the long term physical ramifications of sitting in front of a screen for hours upon hours might be…all those rays and beams being shot out at my face; betrayed by the deceptively comforting glow. I’ll probably end up with cancer of the eye-sockets or something to that affect. Someday in the near future, myself and others like me will attend blogger’s support groups to cope with carpel-tunnel, eyestrain, and the debilitating emotional effects of social pariahism (pariahism of course not being a real word). This is funny though (because eye-socket cancer and voluntary social isolation really isn’t): I was having dinner with two Dutch guys, when, from across the dining hall, I heard someone shout, “Penis!” The boys I was sitting with giggled for a moment, then, since we had just been talking about cultural similarities between America and The Netherlands, asked me if we had “The Penis Game” in America. “You know,” said one of my eating companions, “the game where everyone goes around saying ‘penis’ and each person has to say it a little bit louder than the person before them until someone gets too embarrassed to say it any louder.” Oh yeah, right, THAT penis game. I informed him that, yes, we did have that game in America, but it was mostly only popular among 12 year-old boys and generally played in situations where saying “penis” loudly would be inappropriate, whereas, for college students in a dining hall it isn’t a big deal because practically everyone in the room is already talking about penises anyway. The Dutch boys acknowledged this point, and proceeded to inquire if the consequences of losing the penis game were the same in America as they are in The Netherlands, the Dutch consequences being that, when it’s someone’s (let’s call this someone Billy) turn to say “penis” and he (Billy) is too embarrassed to do it, the person who’s turn it is after him is then obligated to shout as loud as possible, “Billy is a flaming homosexual!” I don’t remember there ever being a consequence like that to losing the American version of the penis game, but I certainly think it’s an excellent idea, and I suggest that all junior high school aged boys in the U.S. should adopt this rule post haste. Nothing like adding some terrifically homophobic element to whatever act of perverse humiliation you’re undertaking, especially at such an impressionable age. (Alternate version of the game, played by Dutch kids: one player starts by saying, “I jack off once each day” the next player says, “I jack off twice each day,” then the next, “I jack off three times each day,” and so on, with each player getting louder as they go. When one player loses (we’ll use Billy again, poor kid), the next round begins with, “Billy jacks off once each day,”….and so on and so forth.)

addendum to 9/14/04- takes a lickin'...
Yahrrrr, 'tis a sea-worthy craft.

9/14/04- Academics and other learning experiences

I tightened the brakes. I fixed the lights. Then I went for a ride. And Lucky’s chain popped off. Two miles into the local wilderness park. At dusk. Could have been worse; it could have been raining. There could have been bears. Cheap piece of crap. I swear, bikes made prior to 1950 just weren’t built to last. It has occurred to me that, as I maintain this page in order to share my study abroad experience, I’ve been neglecting one very key aspect- the “study” part. That’s right, along with traveling to exotic Dutch cities and humiliating myself in front of exotic Dutch people, I also go to classes from time to time. Classes here at UCU are actually a pretty different experience than classes at Santa Cruz. Because there are only 600 students at this school, the classes are tiny- my largest is only 20 students. Professors encourage debate and discussion, often without moderation, which is nice, but can also be a little stressful and at times infuriating. Case in point- in one of my philosophy classes there are two guys who may be the most pretentious pseudo-intellectuals I have ever had the misfortune of having a class with. They dominate the discussion, constantly citing whichever philosophers they happen to have read last semester, regardless of relevance to the topic at hand. It’s almost impossible to get a word in edgewise, but the professor does little to keep the discussion on track, or reign in these unchecked egos. Bah. But aside from that, classes are interesting, so much so that I’m actually doing almost all of my assigned reading (I don’t know what it’s like at other schools, but at UC Santa Cruz this is a rarity for any student). My history of the 1960s class is particularly excellent. The prof is extremely knowledgeable and it’s about the 60s…come on, how cool is that? My philosophy classes are pretty good to, except that they are really only “philosophy” classes in name. Philosophy of Humanities was renamed “Approaches to the Humanities” in the first session, and the philosophy of emotions and expression class is actually a psychology class (this is the class with the pedantic duo in it). But both are interesting subjects, regardless of their lack of philosphiness, so I don’t mind. As for my Dutch class…if nothing else it is a source of great entertainment. Listening to Californians butcher basic Dutch phrases is both hilarious and tragic (because I’m one of the worst). But the most comedic aspect of this seminar is the professor himself (I mentioned him briefly in a previous entry). When I first got The Netherlands, a number of people asked me if Dutch folks were like Goldmember from Austin Powers 3. And I’d say something to the affect of, “No, not at all. I don’t even know where Mike Myers got the idea for the character. Dutch people don’t act like that or sound like that.” Ok…but my Dutch professor…he does. Not only is his accent Goldmember-like, but so are his facial expressions. I keep expecting him to say, “I’m from Holland, ishn’t dat veird?” and then start eating flakes of his own skin. And whenever I think about this, I have to try real hard to keep from laughing in the middle of class.

9/10/04- Tour d'Utrecht

I bought a bike and named it “Lucky”. Because I’ll be lucky if I’m not killed in a horrible way while riding it. I went with a few other exchange students and bought Lucky from a used bike store under the train station…the place really wasn’t as shady as I expected a store under a train station to be. Still, not wanting to linger, I made my transaction quickly, without bothering to count my change. It was only when I got back to campus that I realized that, for this neglect, I had paid the 10 Euro Stupid American Tax. As for my purchase itself, it’s pretty much the saddest looking bike I’ve ever seen. But, it was the only one at the shop to be had for under 50 Euros that still had treads on the tires and working brakes. Plus, it has a sort of pre-war charm that can’t be denied. Bike is really the way to get around in The Netherlands, particularly in Utrecht. This city is too large to walk, and buses, while always on time and with a number of routes running through the city, are slow and expensive. So it’s pretty much expected that everyone owns a bike. But the traffic patterns here are unfamiliar, and NO ONE, not even small children, wears a helmet. Thus, my inevitable, bike-related death- here’s what I envision will happen: I’ll be riding along, minding my own business, when suddenly, one of the 4 million other Dutch bikers out on the road in Utrecht at any given time will sideswipe me, causing me to swerve wildly into traffic where I’ll be hit by an oncoming truck and be propelled into a nearby canal, puncturing my lung on the spokes of the bike of the last cyclist who was knocked into the canal. Then a windmill will fall on me. Yep, that’s what’s gonna happen alright. On an unrelated note, today, for the first time, I went to the grocery store and managed to conduct my entire transaction without having to say “Sorry, I don’t speak Dutch,” at any point. Ok, I’ll admit it was mostly because the check-out girl didn’t say anything except for the price of the groceries…but still, I feel that this could be a harbinger for my eventual successful assimilation into Dutch culture.

9/5/04- You ever have those days when you really wish you spoke Dutch?

Here’s how it goes. It seems that at every train station, post office, and grocery store in The Netherlands, there are two customer service lines. One line is manned by a young, pleasant-looking woman who switches seamlessly between languages, addressing each customer’s needs and concerns with a smile, even if they are trying to return 5 open cans of sardines with no receipt and the only language they speak is Sanskrit (of course, as Harlan pointed out, Sanskrit is was only a written language and not a spoken one...thank you, Harlan, for spoiling my perfectly good joke with your worldy knowledge). Then, there’s the other line. This line is presided over by an angry, grizzled man with no social skills. If you are unlucky enough to find yourself in this individual’s line, here’s the experience you can expect: In English (the only language you know thanks to the shameful condition of the American public school system), you will cautiously state what you want. Mr. van der Grizzle will make some low, growling sound that you manage to distinguish as “waat?” You will repeat your request, with increased caution. “Waat?” And again. On the third try, Grizzly will respond in perfect, angry English. He will then hustle you through your transaction with such haste that you’d think the building was on fire. God of all things Dutch, why do I keep ending up in the angry grizzled line? (Actually, this has only happened to me twice and every other Dutch person I’ve ever talked to has been at least accommodating, if not friendly. I just felt like doing some Dutch bashing because there’s nothing in my Santa Cruz P.C. ideology that prevents me from shamelessly mocking other cultures as long as those cultures are made up of white people). I went to Rotterdam yesterday. For those of you not familiar with the geography of The Netherlands (and I just took down that handy map too), Rotterdam is south west of Utrecht (it took me about 40 minutes to get there by train, but that was on the slow train). The city was bombed during WWII. When the Nazi's invaded in 1940, they expected to take The Netherlands in a single day, but it wasn't until the 4th day when the German's threatened to begin systematically bombing Dutch cities that The Netherlands surrendered. But by that time, the bombers were already in the air. Rotterdam was practically destroyed, and had to be completely rebuilt. The result is a much more modern, big city atmosphere than any of the other cities in The Netherlands (as most of its architecture is less than 50 years old). I walked around the city for a bit, then went to Boijam Museum. Very cool art museum with a lot of freaky European modern art, plus a number of surrealist and impressionist works and a lot of old Dutch art. Weird coincidence though, when I walked into one of old-Dutch-art rooms, I recognized the girl looking at the Van Gogh. It was Keren. You know, 3rd floor Morison Keren. She’s studying at Leiden (near The Hague) for the semester. Small country, eh? Pictures from Rotterdam: (hallway in Boijman Museum) (park with a canal) (Keren in front of Boijman)

8/30/04- Different country, same complaints.

I started classes today. My 1960s class looks cool and the professor is supposed to be awesome…my Dutch class on the other hand…. The guy who is teaching my intro to Dutch culture and language class has the worst grasp of the English language of anyone I have met in this country thus far (including the woman who works the checkout line at the grocery store and the bus driver for the #4 line). This is not to say that he can’t communicate, but it just seems odd to me that of all the people in The Netherlands who speak near flawless English, the school would select this man to instruct exchange students. Today he repeatedly told us, “I am going to learn you proper Dutch.” But aside from my concerns that the bus driver may be more qualified to lead this class, I do really really want to learn enough Dutch to be able to buy groceries without resorting to English. So I guess I’ll just have to relax and see what this guy has to learn me. A note about the food: My friends, hell has frozen over and pigs are flying around with such frequency that you’d thing psychedelic mushrooms had been decriminalized (and they have been here in The Netherlands) because I miss the Cowell Dining Hall. Yeah, I’m surprised too, but look, I’ll even say it again and in all capitals for emphasis: I MISS THE COWELL DINING HALL. Sad, huh? Here’s the thing, it’s not that the food here at UCU is of any worse quality than Cowell, but at Cowell at least we had options. Here it’s kind of a “chicken or fish” deal. Plus, the dining hall is tiny, so there’s always a long line. The only thing I hate more than crappy food is having to wait in line to get crappy food. Back at Cowell we had a little saying, and it went something like this: “At least there’s always cereal.” Well here, there isn’t always cereal. The good news? Campus is conveniently located near a veritable plethora of snack huts where French fries are plentiful, cheap and covered in mayonnaise (actually you can chose from a variety of sauces- my favorites: curry or peanut.) Scenes from UCU: (front entrance to campus) (The view from my window- main quad of campus) (my room: Votaire 5-D)

8/29/04- Not so alone in a not so hostile land.

Today is the last day of Orientation Week at UCU, and classes start tomorrow. Here’s what I’m taking: Comparative History: The Case of the Sixties Welkom in Nederland (an introduction to Dutch language and culture) Core Issues in Philosophy (the philosophy of emotion) Philosophy of the Humanities I always look forward to starting new classes, even more so now at new school in a new country. But before I throw my self wholly into my academics (ummm…it could happen), let’s review the drunken fun of orientation week. First of all, for the last four days, I haven’t been alone in my attempts to navigate the world of Dutch student life- Jonny, who has been backpacking through Europe for the previous however many weeks, stopped by Utrecht for a few days to sleep on my couch, insult my Dutch suitemates, and drink free beer. (Jonny and Artur (AKA Anrgy Polish Kid)) Actually, I really enjoyed having Jonny around. It was nice to have someone to hang out with who I didn’t have to worry about making a good first impression on, and even though he really was insulting to my new European acquaintances, after a few days they decided that he was actually quite funny and were sad to see him go. As previously indicated, most of the activities that have taken place in the past week have involved a bit of alcohol. ie, On Wednesday, the school sponsored a pubcrawl for the new students so we could get to know the local bar scene. Free drinks at each bar, lots of fun. Because these European kids have been drinking regularly since they were 4, they have all have an impressively high tolerance for alchohol and can drink gallons each night, then get up the next morning and function as normal human beings. It’s really quite delightful. Went to Amsterdam on Friday with Jonny and another visiting Californian. Amsterdam is a great city, here’s a picture: (gotta love those canals)

8/25/04- Welkom in Nederland.

Now broadcasting from University College Utrecht (henceforth shall be referred to as UCU), a small international college in a quiet neighborhood of the city of Utrecht (in The Netherlands, for those of you who really haven’t been paying attention). It’s kind of hard to describe what it’s like to go to a new school in a different country with people from all over Europe. I mean, there’s a lot to say, and I want to paint an accurate picture for you…I think the best thing I can do is to describe a few of the more choice scene and experiences from the last two days and let you draw your own conclusions. I live on top of the Humanities building in a huge room with tile floors and very little furniture. I am thinking of buying a pair of roller skates and doing laps around it. Last night I watched an angry Polish kid (whom others here have already cleverly nicknamed “Angry Polish Kid”) torch spiders in his dorm with a bottle of axe and a lighter. I met with my academic advisor today, but I couldn’t sit down while I was in her office because there were cats sleeping in both of her chairs. When I asked what their names were, she said they weren’t really her cats. Because the drinking age in the Netherlands is a young-looking 16, drunkenness is a school sponsored event. My room keys came with a bottle opener on the key chain and time for hangovers is scheduled into the orientation week calendar. It was raining when I woke up this morning. Now it’s clearing up. But it will rain some more later. Then clear up again. The Netherlands is a land of tall, lanky, pale people. Of this, I approve wholeheartedly. Everyone here speaks English (some do it even better than I do). Adults speak with a British accent. Students speak with a Californian accent. Thank God for American TV, and the dream that someday, everyone on Earth may sound just like me. Pictures to come soon.

8/22/04- Leaving; on a jet plane.
...And I am going, going, gone.