Email exchange

Thursday 11 August 11:30 am
From: LadyGrey@workemail.com
To: DutchMaleFlatmate@gmail.com

I would like to have some friends over for a little get together in the living room/kitchen - 4-5 people? Is this ok? noone will stay the night, just drinking and possibly dancing.



Thursday 11 August 11:34 am
From: DutchMaleFlatmate@gmail.com
To: LadyGrey@workemail.com

Dancing? In the living room / kitchen? Wow. :)
Ok for me. I'll be at home friday/saturday. Out on sunday, back late afternoon.


Thursday 11 August 11:45 am
From: LadyGrey@workemail.com
To: DutchMaleFlatmate@gmail.com

Swing dancing!! We are getting dressed up... will you be home Saturday night? Want to join? Anyway, I am going to put on some hapjes and move the couch and play music from the 1940s.

KIJK MAAR!!

Watch from 2:38

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0BHxhUnokU


Thursday 11 August 12:04 am
From: DutchMaleFlatmate@gmail.com
To: LadyGrey@workemail.com

I think you should quit drinkin alcohol during working hours...


:)

The kids are hard core

My apartment. 8:30pm, Friday night

Sounds of dull thudding basslines are emanating from the little park across the road which is behind a primary school. Momentary pause of thudding followed by chants of "One- Two - Three" in dutch and a thousand pre-pubescent girly voices scream in enthusiasm after the count of three.

Me: How old do those girls sound? Like 12?

Flatmate: Yeah, it sounds like a kiddy party.

After the screaming dies down, thumping bass continues into fast paced house track, then gets manipulated by an invisible DJ and wound right down into a reggae track with an MC rapping over the slow groove.

It sounds, to be frank, highly charged with sexual connotations.

Me: The 12 year olds are listening to reggae here?

Flatmate's girlfriend: Only in Amsterdam..!*

* I'm guessing she meant that in the rest of the Netherlands, the 12 year olds are not as "urban" per se, and would be listening to more wholesome, conservative things... for example; dutch pop like De Toppers.

Jesus. Am I getting old? Making the call on what 12 year olds should and should not be listening to? I mean, I was listening to Britney Spears (speaking of sexually explicit) when I was about 16... and R n B songs that were screaming hoochie mama this, and mo fo that when I was about 12.

Shit. I am getting old.

Miss Communication

I've been having this really odd week, where people are talking to me - in english - and I have no idea what they are trying to say to me.

It seems everyone is trying to tell me something. Colleagues, bosses, boys, shopkeepers; Critical information is flowing and I am on receiving end. But I'm just not getting it.

I'm watching their body language, listening to the words coming out of their mouths, asking them to repeat themselves- everything to try and understand what the mercury is going on, but it's like the antenna's broken and I can't seem to unscramble the white noise and process it into intelligible meaning.

What do you people want? What am I supposed to do? How do you want me to react?

For someone who is a born communicator, this is highly frustrating.

The things that keep us apart, keep me alive

Dear home,

I miss your bustling,Chinese restaurants where I know exactly what to order and what to not make the mistake of even glancing at, on the menu. I miss giving the exceptionally tall waiter called Raymond a chin check, as I wait in line to get a table, and the msg laced food that usually sails past me as my stomach growls.

I miss your delicious, and insanely cheap Vietnamese restaurants that reminded me of being a kid and eating out with my dad, as a special treat. The shiny grilled pork balls, silky and partially translucent cold rolls with thin green stems of chives that stick out, and the gourmet spread of other fried and grilled delights that I usually share with people that are family by blood or otherwise.

I miss your balmy summer nights in January.

I miss the glossy weekend magazines, bundled with the Saturday edition of the high brow national paper, allowing me to immerse my mind into the topical feature articles of the week, and capping the read off nicely with national real estate porn.

I miss hearing your endearing and lovely accents on the other side of the phone whenever I call a bank, insurance company or doctors office.

I miss your fashion: bright funky prints, flowing dresses, inexpensive and well made accessories and a fabric scope that extends beyond jersey and leather.

I miss your boys with short haircuts.

I miss your 10pm clear skies with hundreds of stars, that with a squint of the eyes, turn into thousands of stars, the further out of the city limits I drive.

I miss your wide roads that take me through familiar inner suburbs, winding hills and stomach churning dips and pristine natural landscapes.

I miss your takeaway gelati that comes box wrapped in bright, lolly coloured paper, making evening sweet treats feel like a celebration, not just a superfluous indulgence. And brunch - a whole meal that doesn't exist where I am.

I'm coming back at some stage. But not yet. I'm not done yet. I don't know why. I'm just not.

Suburban Saturday Morning Soundtrack

I just realised that I haven't woken up to the sound of a lawnmower or weed whacker on a weekend in about a year and how Australian that noise is.

So much space and land makes for gardens and garden maintenance that can be hell to a young person's ears when in a fragile state before a berocca and bowl of cereal come Saturday mid morning.

You can take the American out of America but....

Tuesday 1st June, 9.38am, Boss' office

Me:... So, we need to rename one of our characters in the promotional video, because we've given him a scandanavian name, and the actor is clearly english, with a full on english accent. I quite like the name Sam, but his name is Sam and I think that it will be hard for him to get into character if he shares the same name as his character.

Boss: Yes, good point, but I think that it needs to remain a casual name, not like Alistair or anything like that.

Me: Well, I was thinking, maybe Max? or Tom? Not too european, not too western?

Boss: Mmmm... yeah... maybe. I know, how about, "Chuck"?

Me: You can't be serious?

Boss: Huh? What's wrong with that?

Me: No one in their right mind, outside of the United States would give their son such an unfortunate name. It actually means "vomit" in Australia.

Boss: What?!? Why? It's a good name!

Me: Do you honestly believe that?! Wow. You are just American to the core, aren't you?

Kudos to me

Tuesday 11th May, 19:03pm

I find myself at the beginning of a 15-20 minute cycling journey on Laura's mountain bike, in 6 degree weather, with the wind blowing a gale, and fat, blobby rain hammering my whole body, as I try to get from my house in the West to a restaurant in the North.

I have been advised that it has no sign, no buses get there, nor trams, and it is is only distinguishable by it's admirable architecture, as it is built on stilts over the River Ij.

I am wearing a little black dress, stockings and high heels, a scarf and my paddington bear coat.

I am also, running very late for this four course dinner with a bunch of strangers, that was supposed to commence at 7pm.

If I'm not giving it everything I've got to put myself out there in this city and make it work, I don't know what you would call this.

Did you hear the one about the Dutch and the Belgians?

I went out with my flatmate and his girlfriend, and another one of his friend's on Friday night.

I thought it was quite appropriate really since the weather was just so splendid. For the last week, Mother Nature just spontaneously decided to forgo any more continuous bouts of sunshine, and just went back to being.....well, normal actually. As always, continuous precipitation makes for such great atmosphere, so it was a great night for a few beverages. Yep, there's nothing I love more than getting out and about on a drizzly, damp night. Walking, cycling. It's a joy. It makes for an even better start to the weekend.

We met at his girlfriend's house, in the East.

Totally different side of town. Sometimes I can't believe how different the areas in Amsterdam are. Such a small city but so diverse. A couple of well known bars out there (Studio K is one we stopped past but it was sort of dead, so we moved on to Hotel Arena.), but I never really spent much time there, even though I lived a short stone's throw from there previously.

After a few drinks, we thought we would check out the night scene in the East side. It made me remember why I don't go clubbing.

I went to, nee, I PAID entry to attend a...(wait for it)...(cringe)....90's night. A European nineties night at that. I feel like I should divulge how much the entry fee was, but I feel doing so would actually make you choke in laughter, and that wouldn't be fair. What was I thinking? .... No, really. What, may I ask you, was I thinking?!

You know the songs;

"Sing Alleluia."
"Boom shake shake shake the room."
"Angels"

...

Then... the Euro dance trash onslaught. Sweet Lord, What was I thinking?

You know what was also great? Being so small to Dutch people, that when you get an over enthusiastic bunch of giant dutch dudes dancing (read: jumping around and sort of moving their arms simultaneously) right next to you, they don't even see you. And you get knocked about a bit. Love that.

But it wasn't all bad. I love a bit of people watching and it was good to get to know my flatmate and meet people in his life.

However, the pinnacle of the night was when I overheard this little slice of cultural insight out in the courtyard:

Dutch chick:.. so you know the thing about the Dutch and the Belgians, right?
Dude of unknown origin, but not European, I think: No, no, tell me!
Dutch chick: Well, Dutch people joke that Belgians are dumb, and the Belgians joke that the Dutch are tight with money.
Dude: really?
Dutch chick:Yes, because the Belgians speak dutch with a sort of farmer's accent, and the Dutch are the inspiration for that saying "Going dutch" to split the bill.

I love a good little friendly competition between neighbouring countries.

Bike Flat #2

I am pissed off. I just spent money about one month ago getting that bike fixed.
I need to learn how to fix a flat tyre.

Remembrance Day and Apeldoorn syndrome

Since I can't read dutch that well (and admittedly, don't go out of my way to peer at news headlines) or understand the "heel snel" newsreaders on tv ( admittedly, I don't go out of my way to watch the daily 8pm news here either... yes, 8pm news.) I usually have no idea what's going on in The Netherlands.

A double edged sword really. Ignorance really can be bliss.

So, imagine my surprise when I walked into the office yesterday and my colleague told me that there was a big drama on Tuesday night, in Dam square ( the main central square) infront of the war memorial monument, during the ceremony where the Royal family commemorate the Dutch war heros.

"There was a ceremony on Tuesday night? How can I live in this city and not know these things?"

Thinking, thinking, thinking....

Where was I? Oh yes, on the tram home past Dam square wondering why there was a lot of security surrounding it. Duh.

May 4th is the Dutch remembrance day, and May 5th is Liberation day.

On the Tuesday night before Liberation day, the dutch do their 2 minutes silence (double the respect the Australians give their war heroes?) and Queen Beatrix lays a wreath in Dam Square.

During the 2 minutes silence, a "drunken tramp" (using the Media's words) started screaming because he couldn't find his bike (?!) , startling the crowd, making someone drop a suitcase, and making a crowd fence barrier fall, which the crowd confused with the sound of gunshots and consequently causing a mass stampede of chaos. Another version claims the drunk man was talking on his phone and when someone told him to shut up, he started screaming, and the suitcase fell, and someone called out "Bomb, Bomb!"

Since the public asassination of Theo van Gogh, the film maker and Vincent's grandson, and also since there was an attempted attack on the Dutch Royal family at last year's Queen's day celebrations in the town of Appeldorn, there has been an underlying air of hypersensitivity at public events here, it seems.

The instinct to panic at large scale public events where the Royal family are present has been deemed as "Appeldorn syndrome".

Watch the events that unfolded below. And I had no idea that this all happened. Until 48 hours later.

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.

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.

Febo-licious - a post for Ade

Fly yourself to Amsterdam
Canals, bicycles and rain
Carrying your groceries against the wind
can be a freaking pain
When things get tough like that
Don't try and be a hero
Seek refuge amongst the oil and fries
and tuck into some FEBO

( Dedicated to Ade. xxx)

FEBO -

Made of the words "Ferdinand Bolstraat"

The first ever FEBO was on Ferdinand Bolstraat, a hip street in a hip Amsterdam suburb called De Pijp. Now a snackbar franchise claiming to be the "de lekkerste" - the most delicious.

Deep fried snacks in cubicles, with a vending machine system, where coins go in the slot, and you are free to open the door to select your somewhat lukewarm, soggy, deep fried snack, or chicken burger.

Ugh. It just sounds wrong. So so wrong. It also looks wrong.

When my cousin Ade came to town I had to take her there, to cure her fascination. It was my first and last time.

The irony? I have stayed away from that place for over 8 months, and I still got fat here.

The only thing I love about the place is that it is SO Amsterdam, and I love watching people seek refuge and pop in, from all races, ages, socio econonic classes, when it's raining and stand there munching their croquets, and fries, chatting while waiting for the rain to stop.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FEBO

Where is the love?

I sat opposite a dutch lady on the train to work last Friday, and she smiled at me as I took my seat.

I was a little bit taken aback. It occurred to me instantly that I haven't received a smile from a stranger in a long time. I almost felt like I didn't know what to do.

Sometimes it's lonely here. This feeling can be amplified because I don't always get what's going around me because of the language barrier. Sure, everyone can speak english to me, but when dutch is flying thick and fast around me, I get frustrated at myself because I don't understand, and I get a heavy craving for comprehension.

When someone mistakes me for a dutch person (yeah, it doesn't happen often, but it sometimes does), and speaks to me in dutch, and I don't understand (and can't feign comprehension) I feel embarrassed that I don't understand, and can't reply, and almost always go into apologetic mode, with the stock standard line "Spreken engels?". And in my experience, most Amsterdammers will just repeat what they just said in english, and then their attitude almost becomes a bit dismissive and that's where the interaction stops, like their's no point in carrying on the conversation.

With respect to the language, I can pick up the gist of conversations through cues in body language, and tone of voice, and other non verbal clues, but for example when a train announcement is made in dutch, it would be really nice to know what's going on without having to ask someone around me to translate.

I think there are instances where I am baited into a false sense of integration here because everyone can speak english, and will obligingly do so, and because it's still a "western society", I haven't experienced that many culture shocks because it's not like I am living in China or India with a lot of foreign customs to learn.

But one thing I really notice besides the language thing, is the cultural difference in personal "warmth" and "openness".

One thing that I always used to read in travel memoirs/articles, or hear people say when they found out I was Indonesian, was that Indonesian people are really friendly. I hear that a lot about people from most South East Asian countries, like Thailand, Vietnam, and Cambodia etc. Having just come back from Indonesia, I really noticed it. In shops in Jakarta, shop assistants went out of their way for us, and genuinely smiled all the time, thanked us for our custom.

I even remember road tripping with my mum, and going out into the villages in the rural areas of Java, and we stopped a villager from our car for directions, and the lady was really nice, bubbly, happy, gave us directions and invited us to her house for a snack and a drink to revitalise us for our journey home. Mum made the point, "It's just how it is out here. They are so trusting and kind. She doesn't even know us, and she's offering us what little she has to make sure we will be ok."

In Australia, I just remember that it wasn't that strange to just exchange a random, innocent, smile with a stranger or a shopkeeper, even if you were just walking down the street. In fact, looking back, I think I was a "smile sharer" from way back, not really giving much thought to just breaking out into a smile.

But I have definitely noticed that it's not really done here much. Ditto for chit chat and small talk. God forbid you break out into conversation with someone while you're on public transport, or answer your phone.

Sometimes I get on the train and it can feel almost... hostile. It's quiet on carriages, and it almost feels like everyone has a major wall up. Even if you happen to catch eyes with someone, the most you will get is a fleeting glare.

Before I sat down on the train last Friday, I was walking down the carriage aisle, looking for a seat. There was one girl with her feet up on the seat opposite her, and as I paused momentarily to consider sitting here, she didn't move at all. She didn't look particularly bad ass or anything, just uninterested in being inconvenienced. When that lady smiled at me as I sat down, I gave her a shy smile back, and I realised that it felt really nice to be acknowledged in a friendly way, and I missed that a lot. Especially when you have a perpetually niggling feeling that you don't really, truly belong somewhere.

I'm not saying as a generalisation that dutch people have cold, cold hearts, or are rude, and aloof. Not saying that at all. I'm merely saying that in my experience in living here, comparatively to the two cultures I know the best, Australian and Indonesian, social interaction and interactive norms here in the Netherlands are a lot more reserved. And I have come to really miss the warmth of Australia and Indonesia - both physically, and emotionally.

It's really a big goal for me to learn more dutch because I really believe that making the effort to learn the language will almost be like a key to getting to know people and getting past the walls.

"Don't work - it's snowing"

Official Dutch Rail website says:

Samenvatting

Door de weersomstandigheden is er maandag 21 december en dinsdag 22 december zeer beperkt tot geen treinverkeer mogelijk.

Advies: Maak, indien mogelijk, op deze dagen geen gebruik van de trein.

Excuses voor het ongemak."


Translation?
"By the circumstances Monday 21 December and Tuesday 22 December have been very restricted to no train travel possible. Recommendation: Use, if possible, on these days none of the train. Excuses for the inconvenience."

SOUNDS GOOD TO ME!!!!! So, where was I.... aaaah yes.... Christmas Shopping, and maybe lunch and some photo taking around the city... kiddding....

;)

" Hi, it's Lady Grey, first time snow witness, long time dreamer of snow..."

I have so much to say, so much to say!!!

Many, many exciting things that have been happening but the most important thing...

SNOW SNOW SNOW!!!!!

This new white powdery substance (insert obvious Class A contraband illicit substance reference here) in my life deserves it's own post really, so here it is!

This stuff has changed my life... yes, a drastic statement I know.. but, I will list in order of importance why it's so important to me.

1. My dreams just keep getting fulfilled here, every single day.. I had NEVER seen snow before in my life, and now I am constantly surrounded in it. I used to have dreams about feeling snow, frolicking in snow, holding snow, crunching my feet through snow, and now fortunately, and unfortunately, I do it every day! It's just another way that this town keeps proving to me that you can seriously live in a dream like reality.

2.I haven't felt my feet through 2 layers of socks and a pair of boots, in about 3 days. This is the flipside of living ankle deep in snow.

3. The weather in this town constantly reminds me that no matter how many layers I put on, or however prepared Iconvince myself I am for the weather, I am actually never really prepared for the weather. The first morning of snow on Thursday, it fell so softly and romantically in delicate flakes, and I felt oh so chic in my winter coat, finally being able to justify why I look like an Icelandic sheep as Laura would say. Then last night, I went out with my friend Karl, and it was absolutely PELTING down, in what I can only imagine are blizzard like proportions, in heavy balls... My woolly winter coat was pretty much soaked in snow when I got home, and I realised that I don't have a single water proof item that would be remotely warm enough to wear outside.

4. This town is SO BEAUTIFUL under snow... I think I said this on my facebook status, but I LIVE IN A POSTCARD. I feel so lucky to have travelled a lot more recently, and to have seen different cities and be able to say this statement with some sort of reference in my head, because may i be so brash and bold to say ..." HELLO WORLD - I LIVE IN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CITY ON THIS PLANET!!! "

And just to prove it, please see below:









Keizersgracht, one of the most beautiful and exclusive canals to live on in Amsterdam. It's been compared to the "Upper East Side" of Amsterdam - not that I really know what that truly means, having never been to NY, but I can imagine.

I want to do this one day with my 3 kids!! The thing at the front is called a Bakfiets, and that's how dutch mummies and daddys kart their kids around the city, no joke. It's so cute to see two kids sitting in a Bakfiets nattering away to each other. When it rains, parents put a plastic cover of the top of the kart and it looks like a capsule, and the kids just sit there talking to themselves while their mum or dad just cycles them around!!! Too cute!

Photos courtesy of www.iamsterdam.com

Have yet to cycle in the snow - I think its ridiculous idea, when I have a public transport card. I value my bones in tact way too much.

Ok, so here is a ridiculous story about the trains and the trams and the snow. This morning when I went to go to work, I was waiting for a tram for 25 minutes in the snow. I am currently living on the houseboat ( yes, yes, yes! How exciting, I know, but more on that later!) and it's on a very central canal, and 3 minutes up the street, there is a tram stop, that takes me to Centraal station, and about 4 trams could take me there, to date I have never had to wait more than 2 minutes.

Last night, Karl said as we were waiting for my tram home in a blizzard, "You think it's bad now, wait til the trams don't even run because of some snow related delay." I freaked out, because I realised the look on his face wasn't one of jest. If there are no trams and you can't cycle ( because you are too chicken shit or too sensible) then you are walking everywhere.

Anyway, so I was freaking out a little bit, because my toes were numb and I thought about being late (again) for work, and then finally one came. It was soooo full.

Then I get to Centraal station, and I look at the train announcement board and realise that every 1 in 7 trains is actually running. And Centraal station is looking particularly sparse. But my train happens to be running. Damn.

Then I get to the office, and it is dead. You can hear a pin drop, as I step outside the elevator. And it's 9.15 am, when everyone is usually milling around getting coffee, talking about their weekends etc. I ask my dutch colleague Sarah what is happening and she said that the Dutch government told people to stay home today via the news, because they expected half the trains to be in gridlock or cancelled, and probably not running at all in the evening. Niiiiice. Only problem is I don't watch the dutch news, or listen to the radio, so a sucker like me couldn't have known.

"By government decree, I pronouce tomorrow SNOW DAY... stay home citizens of Amsterdam, and just hang out..."

How can a country in Europe be brought to it's knees because of snow? Because they're not used to it is how... this year will be the first White Christmas ( defined as snow on the 25th of December AND 26th of December) since 1981. This sort of snow fall doesn't happen usually until mid-late January.

One of my bosses didn't make it - working from home, she said.... nice for some - and half my floor wasn't in.

My flatmate's facebook status this morning was slightly hilarious. It was nice to know she thought the same things as me, albeit on the other side of town, however her morning sounded more shit than mine.

"Huh. A 1/2 hr walk to Central Station (no trams running) to discover there were no trains going to Utrecht. And then a 1/2 hour walk home again. I'd never imagined a country could get its public transportation so de-railed by 1.5 inches of snow."

Another one of my coworkers told me this morning that his train was running but it was late because they couldn't find an engineer to run the train. Hah hah hahahhaha. Trains and the Netherlands. Funny. In a country the size of Tasmania, where cities/towns are mere half hour train rides away (really just suburbs), intercity rail travel is definitely an interesting experience.

On another note, apparently 700 people were stranded overnight on makeshift beds at Schipol airport last night. So... I could e spending Christmas Eve/Day at Schipol if my flights are delayed. Fantastic. Sounds great. I think I know why the dutch government pumped so much money into that airport to make it so world class.... pick a bar, any bar... you're here for a long time, not a good time weary travellers....

Bike Maintenance and Shopping Behaviour

I went to the Post Office this morning to pick up a package from Ma (Thanks Ma! xxx)

When I got there, I realised that I would have to haul it back to my apartment somehow... and what was a beautiful Autumn day yesterday (translate: no wind, no rain, spots of sunshine, autumn colours in full bloom) has turned into a wet and windy day... again.

Luckily, next door to the post office, there was a bike shop, and I pleaded with the dude in the shop to sell me an elastic for the back seat of my bike with all the change I could muster (EU 5.70 instead of EU 6.50) He sold it to me, on the condition that I come back to the shop after I get back from London and Berlin, to fix my handlebars that keep sliding off... I promised I would.

Bike maintenance is just such a hassle for me. I barely took care of my cars in Australia, but this bike is doing my freaking head in.

I just bought a rain cover for the seat, which I always have to carry around because in the likely chance that it rains, and my bike seat gets wet, I won't have to sit on a wet bike seat, and because I can't be bothered getting my front light fixed, I bought these little portable lights that i just tie on to the front and back of my bike every night, which is SO annoying. If i get caught with no lights on my bike its a EU 35 fine. Now I need new handlebars, and probably some air in my tires, and I am just about to go shopping for a bell, and some spray paint or flowers to tie to it, because everytime I pass a bike rack that I THINK my bike is in, I can NOT find it for the life of me because there are about 20,000 ( NO FUCKING KIDDING, it's ridiculous) bikes that look like mine, all racked up in a chaotic mess. Add the wind, rain, darkness and usually drunken state that I am in when seeking my bike, and it's just a big ol' shit fight to get home.

But the irony is, the better kitted out and good looking your bike is, the more chances that it will get stolen. So you go to all this effort to personalise your bike, and then some fucker just takes it.

I can't really talk, I suspect the guy that sold me my bike wasn't exactly a legitimate sales person.

In fact, shopping in general can be pain because of the whole "no car" situation, so it's really opportunistic shopping for convenience of carrying little loads in your arms or on your bike. If I happen to be near a chemist or a Hema ( like Big W, but tonnes more awesome and stylish!) I just have to go in and buy stuff I anticipate to be running out of, even if it's the most expensive shop because I just don't want to spend my weekends looking for stuff, and I don't know when the next time will be that I will be near a store like that. If I move house, and am more in the centre, as opposed to the harbour, I think life would be easier, but at the moment, I am just buying things every day to get me through the days...

The dutch haven't really grasped the whole convenience shopping thing yet....like if I want to wrap a present, I have to go to 3 different stores to buy the paper, the stick tape, and the ribbon. The only plaza type place I frequent every day is Centraal Station, and they don't even have a full supermarket, (just 2 x convenience type mini mart things). I would expect a mobile phone store, and also a shoe repair guy there at least!! But nooooo... they just don't get it.

I then went to the bank today to activate my new card (banks are open Saturdays here, Love it!) and then I went to the el cheapo chain store in town (Blokker) to buy some house stuff....because I just got paid!!! Yes!! Yes i did!! Damn it feels good!

The rate of pay was slightly lower than I thought, because I am getting taxed 30% of my wage. 30%... shit. That's high.

Saturday nights plans?
Wallowing. I am feeling a bit low at the moment, the weather is making me a bit flat, and I suddenly feel like my life has plateaued into boredom.

I might have a drink with Irish chef tonight and catch up with him, but otherwise no real plans.

Sunday:
Mobile Phone contract
New handbag
SD card for my camera so that I can finally start taking photos of my house and put them up, and also of my daily life sights!!
Soup?!?

So dutch right now...

This song always gets me. It makes me want to sing.

So overplayed. So feel good.

So hard to understand.

The story of the video is that the good looking Anglo Dutch guy is Jan Smit, an old child star - Holland's male, buff, good looking version Nikki Webster - and he's doing a "collaboration" with Damaru, who is a fairly recent Surinamese Dutch singer/songwriter. But Damaru originally released the song, and it went fairly well, and then Jan Smit got thrown into the mix (hijacked ?) and I guess it topped the charts as his "comeback".

Just in case you were interested. It's not a bunch of old dutch people photographing random people walking down the street. It was a big deal over here I think.