K-dag

Queens day = Koninginnendag

Tomorrow, 30 April. 

Celebrating the birthday of Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands, whose birthday is actually in February, but due to the shit weather during that time of the year, has remained as celebrated on the birthday of her mother, Queen Juliana, who has since passed.

The eve before K-dag is a big party night, and the actual day is HUGE in Amsterdam. It's the only day where people are allowed to freely sell their old goods on the street ( Garage sales here are not really done) the canals are full of boats and party people, and 800,000 people flock to Amsterdam and it becomes the party capital of the Netherlands. 

Dutchies get dressed up in orange because it's the royal family's surname. The Royal Oranje's.

There are 3 rules to Queen's day (so I've been told):

1. Make sure you have enough to drink

2. Be close to a toilet all day

3. Know where your friends are

I just got back from the supermarket where Heineken was on sale (3 six packs for the price of 2), and I also bought a crate of Grolsch. 

Excuse me while I get changed into my orange attire and get my dutch on...

Lekker weer, yeehar

Today the weather was SO nice, I sang as I rode my bicycle. How very "Sound of Music" of me.

It was phenomenal. Absolutely phenomenal.

Cycling was an absolute joy.

I cycled around the East side, and later settled myself by the side of a canal, and ate my lunch, basking in the sunshine and REAL warmth, watching the boats pass by. I went vintage clothes shopping, and trawled the second hand markets.




This city is so different when it's sunny. It's so alive, and... happy. The real difference between the seasons is so evident, not just temperature wise, but temperment wise as well.

I'm about to dash off to a place called "Chocolate bar" in De Pijp, to meet a girl from New Zealand, who I met through a "meet up" group a few weeks ago. She's got some friends over from London, and it's a perfect night for a drink.

A game so complex, an unofficial manual was written: part two

My now old flatmate (moved into new apartment last week! New pics to come!) sent me this link yesterday.

Weirdly enough, it talks about most of the nationalities that I talked about it in this post.

Just call me "Rani: Love anthropologist, specialising in European dating culture".

Stupidity prevails

Sometimes I think I'm doing really well with the dutch language. That is, until a native screws up their face when they're listening to me, and says, 'Wat?!'

Considering I'm not doing formal lessons here, i'm quite proud of myself. The dutch are a little bit, peculiar, and, particular about their mother tongue. You can read more about it here, from another expat's point of view. ( which i completely concur with. )

They make it impossible to practice and are very good at shutting you down, if they hear a slight accent. Hence, self esteem can plummet, and having been indirectly mocked for putting yourself out of your comfort zone, you don't feel the need to keep trying. It's largely all about ego. They think that they're language is so complex, that only the creme de la creme of intellectuals can possibly get it. 'So don't bother trying, basically', is the message they send when they switch to english, or correct your dutch with a smirk on their face. 'We can speak better english, than your sorry attempt at dutch, it would be easier for all involved if we all just did this verbal transaction in english. Because, we're pretty smart.'

But, I persist, even indulging in a little self congratulatory smugness when I walk away from a successful conversation. (admittedly, "successful" defined as, "I got what I needed out of that transaction without any blank stares or visible laughter from the other person".)

"They thought I was native! Ha! Take that you cheese head! I'll master your language yet!'

Then I was getting ready to get off my train from work the other day. There are two buttons to the left of the train door, you need to push one, to open the doors as they aren't automatic. I just punched both of them, not really thinking, nor did I pay much attention to the writing above them. People around me stared at me as I was punching between the two of them, annoyed that nothing was happening, somewhat thinking, "I'm local, I can do this, at least they don't think I am a tourist that thinks that these doors open automatically."

Then the guy behind me pushed one of the buttons and seconds later, the doors hissed open. I looked over to him and he smiled at me, as if to say "There you go, honey, that's the way it's done." (Shock! A smile?! He couldn't have been dutch!) and then with a "clang", they settled into position and commuters piled off the rail carriage, sweeping me along with them, but not before I read the words above the buttons and the diagrams that sat underneath them.

"Openen" (diagram of doors parting)
"Gesloten" (diagram of doors shutting)

What a shut down.

Dit boek heeft honderden pagina's...

So dear reader, hang on tight, because I have no idea where I am currently sitting in this story of "Rani in the land of cheese, dijks, and bicycles".

One of Laura's friends from Switzerland came to visit her, and arrived tonight. I came to visit after work, and we sat in her apartment drinking and talking for a while. I looked out her window and noticed that the dusk light had made an obvious attraction of the outline of a series of dutch townhouses opposite her building.

I mused something or rather outloud about the pretty buildings.

"I know! It's like I don't even see this city anymore, now that I live here. I am here, but I just don't see it!" Laura proclaimed.

I agreed.

Every time I climb a set of stairs that are on a 25 degree angle, everytime I look at a wave of cyclists making their way somewhere as I stand at a tram stop, everytime I walk over a canal bridge, everytime I hear dutch conversation, everytime I see beer in the supermarket, everytime I read an outdoor billboard, the awe of it is no longer there.

The dutch landscape has become the backdrop to my every day life.

I am unsure if my time here is going to be a thesis, a novella, or a thick and heavy memoir. I have no idea how long I am going to be here. I can make plans to move on, concoct daydreams and blueprints to where I will be this time next year, but in essence, it may well be that I will still be here. And the stories, will (hopefully) just keep getting more random.

Incentive to buy

In my research for health insurance (my travel insurance isn't valid after June) I stumbled across this special plan for "youngsters", which inlcudes 50 free condoms PER ANNUM if you sign up to this health insurance plan.

A dutch community service announcement

Be nicer to each other. No, seriously. This is what they are saying. Watch the video.

My tax money is being spent on government initiative campaigns telling the dutch to be nicer to each other.

What. The. Fuck.

Seriously.

Words escape me.

Ah-maaaaaazing dinner

I just had the most amazing dinner with my auntie in Amsterdam's Old South.

She wanted to take a trip down memory lane because she used to live and work there, once upon a time, as an intern at a law firm, about 25 years ago.

We went to her old stomping ground, and along the walk of the high street, she she spotted a restaurant and said " That's where we are having dinner tonight." No old ties to it or anything, just saw it and clicked that she wanted to eat there.

Anyway, there were no menus (much to my embarrassment when I asked for one.) Only a wine list. The waitress explained that the menu was the same thing for everyone, all the time.

First course was a green salad with walnuts and mustard dressing. Second course was your choice of pan seared sole with french fries or medium rare entrecote with french fries. (Hello - it's Holland: french fries are another food group, not just a fast food thing.)

Then as you were almost finished that course you get another round of the same thing.

"Did she just say, you get another round of the second course???" I thought. Not wanting to make a fool of myself again, I just knodded and smiled, waiting for the magic to be brought to my table.

Oh my god. And magic it was. Paired with my organic sauvignon blanc from some blessed place in France, I was, literally, speechless.

And did I have seconds? Errrr....no brainer.

"I'll have more of EVERYTHING!" I almost declared loudly and triumphantly when the waiter brought more entrocote and sole to the table , asking if we would like more. But I resisted and politely murmured "Yes, that would be lovely, dank je wel."

Everything melted in my mouth. I have no idea what sort of sauce came with the entrecote, but it was green and could have been a salsa verde, but I believe it was green butter. Not garlic and parsley butter. Just butter. Disguised as a sauce.

And to top it off, I shared dessert with my aunt. A massive portion of île flottante (floating island), which I had never had before.

The website is fantastic and actually speaks volumes about the whole dining experience. Make sure you watch the flash slideshow of the pictures. It's like reliving a short trip to heaven. (select "diashow" on the homepage)

www.entrecote-et-les-dames.nl

Selfish ways

I feel like I have been a bit self indulgent in this blog. And lazy.

I haven't really taken any photos ( as people keep reminding me) of my life and surrounds here.

In fact, I have been piggy backing off other people's ( visitors) photos and taking them off facebook and putting them on my blog. Not only is that complete and utter laziness, but it is also outright plagarism (but because these people are acquintances/friends, I am hoping that they will turn a blind eye to my digital theiving ways).

It also really defeats much of the point of this blog because this blog is about my travels through my eyes.

So my promise to myself, is to start taking some more photos. And learn how to use my camera properly. And upload the results here. And get the film from my lomo camera developed. I've had that camera since my travels in July last year and it's had the same roll of film in it.

Since the weather is nicer, I will be getting out tomorrow for a long stroll/cycle and hope to have some awesome photos to upload on here soon.

On another topic, you all might think that I have had something of a one track mind, since all I can keep talking about here and on facebook is the sun.

Let me tell you, the sun is VERY important here. I can't stop ranting and raving about it - the lack of it, the abundance of it, the way it makes me feel when I feel it, see it, or rather when I don't see it or feel it. But after having some tea and banana bread the other night with Pia on the houseboat, she revealed that sometimes she feels like a bit of a nutcase because she can't stop talking about it either sometimes, in her blog or on facebook. I no longer feel like a retard.

It's worthy of it's own post really, but allow me to explain a few key learnings from my time living here.

- Just because the sun is out and it's bright, DOES NOT mean that it is warm.
- When the sun is out and there is a skerrit of warmth in the atmosphere, haul your ass to the nearest grassy knoll with a picnic blanket and enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.
- If you are sitting in the office, and the sun is shining, take a long walk outside for lunch.
- Appreciate the sun. Always. In all ways.
- The sun = life and happiness. Brilliant colour, wide smiles, and open hearts are all evident when it is apparent.

Having said this, the sun has been taunting Amsterdam for the last couple of weeks, and over the last few days, the city has been blessed with continuous sunshine. I can't help but feel (and hope) that Spring is finally here, and I think the whole cliche about new beginnings is actually in effect for me.

New home, new focus on an old hobby, new perspective on things , new activities and new friends.

Back in the saddle again

I got my bike fixed finally, after coming home in the new year and realising that it had a puncture.

I haven't bothered fixing it for the last 3 months since the weather has been atrocious, and I am not THAT eager to assimilate or integrate or whatever that I feel the need to cycle in rain, hail and wind.

My bike cost me 20EU (ok, it wasn't quite a "legitimate" sale), but it cost me 35EU to get my bike lock oiled (it took me half an hour to unlock my bike from the tree that it has been chained to all winter), seat taken down, stand screw tightened, wheel cover straightened, tyre replaced, and new wheel, and handle bars tightened. In fairness, I only paid for the materials, and not the labour, because... the guy that fixed my bike was from Adelaide. Yep. Fairview Park born and bred! Instant connection, thus, he threw in a few favours for me.

Very nice guy called Daniel who has been living here for 6 years.

I got my bike fixed out of necessity, because I want to start cycling around in the sun instead of taking the tram everywhere and walking, because I realised over the Easter weekend that it takes twice as long to get anywhere on tram because the trams are always stuck in traffic and go through the centre of town, whereas ducking around on my bike is a lot faster.

It was a beautiful sunny and warm day, and I was happy to be cycling around again. I actually missed cycling. It felt liberating to have the sun on my face, and the breeze in my hair, and I was wearing sunglasses!!

Not asking for much...

I've been house sitting for Laura since she's in spain with her family for easter. She lives in the west so it's been a good chance to get to know the trams to and from work to get to and from my new place.

I've noticed more expats live in this area so i hear a lot more english conversations, and I like to listen. And I judge people by the types of things they converse about on public transport. Always have. Always will. You can't have a conversation on a quiet bus or tram or train and expect people not to listen... And therefore judge you from the snapshot they get of your personality/life from the time they spend with you in such close quarters.

Today i got on the tram, and I heard an Australian girl and an American guy talking. I don't hear a lot of Australian accents a lot on my side of town, so I was particularly curious.

I think they were colleagues on their way to some sort of get together. And I think he was keen on her. They were having a very casual, friendly conversation until he said ' so, when are you coming to the east side?' he asked ( i presumed that's where he lives) 'come over for dinner sometime' he threw in casually.
'what will you cook?' she asked slyly.
'what do you want?' he threw back, with a hint of seduction.
She paused and thought for a while.
'Lobster.' she finally declared seriously.
There was a brief silence. I think he was a bit shocked. I almost looked over to stare at her in disbelief. I studied him carefully. He was looking at her, searching her face to see if she was serious.
'Like a whole lobster?' he asked slowly.
'Yeah, i really miss it, I last had it when I went home for christmas' she said.
If she picked up on his puzzled vibe, she wasn't showing it.
'uh, ok. I'll see what i can do.'

that's when i had to get off the tram, and i was slightly annoyed i missed out on the rest of the flirtation.
I bet it didn't carry on for too much longer after that.

Wow-Did someone say "high maintenance"?