Starring: Jonathan Muchin, Zac Litvinoff, pizza, The Riddler
22:00: I had hardly eaten all day. It wasn't my fault. I was out of food. The grocery stores were closed, this being Easter Monday and also being Europe; these irreligious, irreverent, irascible (not really) heathens seem to take any excuse not to work here. Although, in their defense, I do the same. There was no food in my room, of course, because I had cleaned out all my non-kosher food items for Pesach (again, not really).
22:05: I realize I'm really hungry. I've eaten 1 package of Easy Mac and some pasta in the last 2 days. Nothing else. I'm even out of cheese.
22:15: I can't take it any more; I go to get a pizza with hallmate Zac. We head to Da Roberto's - I always go to the place with an authentic sounding name. We choose a chicken pizza, order it, pay for it. I'm debating what flavor of ice cream to get. Dolce de leche looks good. Waiting.
22:25: A man runs in (hereafter to be referred to as The Riddler). Dressed in black. He's wearing a face mask. I hear shouting. 'Oh shit,' I think, 'is that a holster on his hip?' He's brandishing a pistol in an entirely too aggressive manner (although any manner is probably over-aggressive). He yells something. The woman behind the counter screams. At this point I begin processing what is happening; thankfully, I don't think he'd even noticed me sitting in the front of the store. He couldn't have had much peripheral vision in his mask.
22:26: The Riddler jumps the counter in one swift move. Actually, a pretty impressive athletic feat as the counter was almost 5 feet high. I look at Zac and we bolt. Sprinting. We turn right out of the pizza place, he continues straight, I take another right. I get far enough away and stop running. Don't want The Riddler to see me running.
22:30: Of course, The Riddler passes me. On a bicycle. Not even a getaway vespa. Apparently, he's old school. Let me repeat, his getaway vehicle was his own bicycle. As far as I know, he has no sidecar accomplice.
22:45: I find Zac. We head back home and call the police. Go back to my room and wait. The cops come, question us for our version of events separately. I sign a written statement. The police tell me that the Dutch government will pay for counseling if I need help getting over this incident. I finally crack and cry on the officer's shoulder about how terrified I was (once again, not really)... In a beautifully acted moment, I choke back tears and deny that I need help (nope)... Actually, I laugh and say that I'd use the session to talk about my issues with small dogs. The cop is not amused. He shakes my hand and leaves.
So much for my earlier statement that the Dutch were self-policing and well behaved. The biggest crime in all of this? I had to eat pasta for the 5th consecutive meal.
The Dutch being unamused by me is not uncommon. A little over a week ago, realizing that I was dangerously close to a mullet (or actually my patented mull-lite, as only the back resembled a mullet), I decided to get a haircut. By the way, this will likely be the least interesting anecdote I've written. Haircuts! So full of drama.
My first mistake was allowing a woman with minimal English to cut my hair. On top of that, I always panic when asked how I want my hair cut. It's bad enough at a restaurant with a big menu where I invariably order something I don't want, but in a barbershop there's not even that menu to reign me in. So I mumble that I want it shorter, maybe 3 cm (eww... centimeters) on the top, a little shorter on the side. She claims to understand my wishes, and then proceeds to cut my hair much shorter than I had asked. Whatever. It will grow back. I try to make small talk, sing along to the songs playing (Karma Chamelion by Culture Club in particular). She is unamused; she doesn't say a word to me until telling me that she's done. I come away with a nice, albeit very short haircut. Luckily, you don't have to tip in Europe.
The Germans were even less amused by me. Or really anything. Where the Dutch are friendly (and English speaking), German people are more stand-offish and less able (or willing) to speak English. They don't view laughing as a social nicety (or maybe they just find me really unfunny).
Regardless, last Wednesday, I went to Berlin with a few friends from my program and to visit my friend Emily Sedbrook (who is studying there for the semester). Germany was a beautiful country. I visited Hamburg and Berlin, did a ton of walking, climbed another church tower, saw the remains of the wall - pics on Facebook. Drank some good beer (I know, I know, it was Passover). Strangely, the cheapest place I found beer was the Pizza Hut in the train station. And good thing it was cheap; the pizza was awful. Berlin has no open container law. In fact, I think it may be the opposite. After midnight, it might be compulsory to carry around alcohol.
I went to some cool bars, even ended up at a club (shaking my groove thang of course). (Not really). I took the train home on Saturday, spoke with some Cameroonian migrant workers who worked in the South of France. At least, I think that's what they were. My agricultural French isn't that good. My second block of classes have started as of today. I'm in Political Philosophy and Dutch Art History. Hopefully, I won't be overtaxed. I wouldn't want to ruin my reputation.
Some stray observations (thankfully, not bullets) from Europe:
- The Dutch are incredulous that I'm trying to learn their language. The French are incredulous that I'm not fluent in theirs.
- Belgian train conductors don't say everything in both French and Dutch. Rather, they only use the local language of the city the train is stopping in. But they do always announce everything in English.
- I went to a seder last week. I don't really have an observation. I'd just like some props. I had a good time drinking wine and singing in funny voices and trying to read the Haggadah in Dutch. Luckily, Hebrew is the same everywhere. It was weird not being with my family. Biking home a little drunk was more difficult than expected.
- It's starting to get warmer here. Still, the Dutch don't ditch their scarves. They just get lighter ones. Phew. I still have time to get one.
- Whether in Europe or America, I have a really hard time shutting up. So I'll stop writing now. Keep me updated on all of your lives to any of the readers who made it this far.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
My American roots and an update on life
Disclaimer: This post is incredibly long. The first 1100 words or so are me trying to figure out my own psyche by projecting it onto all of you. If that seems either terrifying or redundant, feel free to skip ahead to find out what I've been doing. It'll be obvious where that is. Also, I use a lot of words of which I may or may not know what they mean. Hopefully, it makes sense. Enjoy:
These past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about identity. Being abroad allows me an opportunity to try out different modes of myself, and I'm interested by what stays the same and what I'm willing (maybe even excited) to change. My perspective and experiences are ever-changing; correspondingly, I should change as well. I just don't know how yet.
This first hit me as I was watching the US hockey team play Canada for the gold medal. I care about America as much as the next person, but I'm not much of a homer; I think civic duty can be disentangled from obnoxious patriotism. In light of the rest of the world's view of American, I do my best to stay away from our shared propensity to intense jingoism. Plus, I really don't care about hockey, so I was surprised at how vociferously I was rooting for the American team. I had no stake in the game whatsoever, other than some abstract pride (and the satisfaction of beating Canadians at something they care about exponentially more than I do). Yet, I was on my feet screaming when the US scored an equalizing goal in the final minute, and I was legitimately disappointed when we (should I just say the US team?) lost.
These past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about identity. Being abroad allows me an opportunity to try out different modes of myself, and I'm interested by what stays the same and what I'm willing (maybe even excited) to change. My perspective and experiences are ever-changing; correspondingly, I should change as well. I just don't know how yet.
This first hit me as I was watching the US hockey team play Canada for the gold medal. I care about America as much as the next person, but I'm not much of a homer; I think civic duty can be disentangled from obnoxious patriotism. In light of the rest of the world's view of American, I do my best to stay away from our shared propensity to intense jingoism. Plus, I really don't care about hockey, so I was surprised at how vociferously I was rooting for the American team. I had no stake in the game whatsoever, other than some abstract pride (and the satisfaction of beating Canadians at something they care about exponentially more than I do). Yet, I was on my feet screaming when the US scored an equalizing goal in the final minute, and I was legitimately disappointed when we (should I just say the US team?) lost.
And this reaction puzzled me. I should preface by saying that I'm likely overanalyzing. In truth, I'm a competitive person who loves sports, and I got drawn into this specific game. Still, cheering for America almost seems antithetical (or at least hypocritical) to my stated goals of studying abroad. I wanted to experience life outside of purely American confines, but found myself being more ardently American. A plausible explanation is that I simply miss home and enjoyed the manufactured camaraderie of being American. There is definitely some validity in that. But to me, it was more of a question of what I'm missing and what I'm willing to give up.
This dilemma was even more present when I attended a US-Dutch international soccer game. This time I had more of a rooting interest (being a fan of soccer), was at the game, and felt a distinct minority in the stadium. I was surrounded immediately by Americans - mainly other people on my program -, but at least 90% of the stadium was wearing bright orange (the Dutch national color). Part of me wanted desperately for the American side to win, but I equally wanted to not care. My competitiveness and "fandom" made this difficult; I couldn't not cheer for the American side*. But I felt that if there were ever any time for me to see a game like this objectively, to just take in the experience, it would be this semester. Maybe, I could drop the American-ness from my identity, or at least some of it.
*Excellent usage of double-negative, if I do say so myself.
Which brings me to what I'm willing to give up by being here.
*Excellent usage of double-negative, if I do say so myself.
Which brings me to what I'm willing to give up by being here.
I don't know how much of my identity (or at least self-identity) is intrinsically tied to being American. Case in point: In Europe, I realize I want to dress better. This is not that odd, except that at home I pride myself on not caring how I look (or at least presenting myself that way). I don't want to dress better to fit in - I don't particularly stick out by wearing jeans and a hoodie every day. I just want to see how a simple change in appearance could change my understanding of things. And this doesn't jibe with my pre-defined, if somewhat amorphous, image of myself (I realize that is a pretty contrived sentence). How important is how I dress to my identity? I realize it would be an entirely superficial change, but what if I came home and dressed completely differently? Would I feel out of place at home? Would I feel less American? Why do I keep using rhetorical questions when I know they're a silly and useless literary device? Coming home, I might feel compelled to return to my old ways - even if I liked dressing better - this time to better fit in. And I don't know if losing this part of my identity, even in this minuscule, superficial way, is the goal or the fear of this semester. I don't know how I want being abroad to change me.
This is not the existential crisis I'm making it out to be. I'm not completely adrift in the world. I have a good idea of who I am and what I care about. I know I miss people at home. This point was brought home rather sharply when my girlfriend Michelle came to visit last week. We had a great time, and I love it here, but I do sincerely miss the people in my life. I'm willing to temporarily part from them, but I can't drop people. They're my tie.
However, I think that precisely because I get restless wherever I am, I never develop such a strong tie to a place. I try to love everywhere I go, everywhere I live, take it all in. So I'm a little confused that my American-ness is surfacing so strongly. I find myself caring more about the ideology of America than ever before. I'm an "other" here. When a group of Americans are being loud in public, they're exhibiting a nasty American trait. When a group of Europeans are being loud in public, they're simply being loud.
There's a lot of baggage associated with being American. Some of it, maybe most of it, derives from American arrogance. We call ourselves the greatest country in the world, and we mean it (most of the time). For a long time, I've questioned that basic premise, especially as America kept slipping in world standing. At what point would the US no longer be the greatest country in the world? And how does one quantify that? It's the same problem I'm having with my own identity. I sincerely love life in Europe. I see things that are better in Holland and things that are worse, but I think that it's ultimately pointless to view being abroad in that paradigm. Who cares who's best? I just want to learn all I can, have all the fun I can, and come home with a new perspective on life at home.
Thanks for enduring this, if you made it through. Now onto the fun stuff...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay. For those of you who didn't read my rambling, I'll just tell you how I've been lately. Once again, there's been a huge gap between my last post and this one. Part of it is that the above section has been in revision for about a week, and I still feel as if it has no conclusion. Still, I probably should try to do a better job of posting. Plus, a lot's happened.
A quick summary: I attended the US-Dutch soccer game in Amsterdam, wherein Landon Donovan ripped out my heart and promptly sloppily passed it out of bounds. Michelle came to visit me, making me feel like the luckiest fella in the land. I turned 21, which while fun and with Michelle, was rendered mildly anticlimactic by the whole "being in Europe" thing. It was redeemed because I got to spend it in Amsterdam with Michelle*. It is currently exam week, so you can probably blame my procrastination for the length of this post.
*Hurray for passive voice!
I'm still attending Dutch classes for another week. At University Maastricht, there are two 7-week blocks in which we take two classes, so my first block is just about wrapping up. In Dutch class, we finally learned imperative phrases; I say finally because I really enjoy being able to tell people what to do. I also learned how to say "asshole" in Dutch (klootzak). Oddly enough, those two skills work in conjunction quite nicely. I can also order in restaurants, tell a doctor that I'm sick, or give directions to the post office. However, in actual fact I do none of these things because everyone (EVERYONE!) speaks English here. Learning Dutch just feels so worth it. Since I'm currently putting off studying for my final in my European State History class, I'll refrain from talking too much about it.
I haven't been exploring Europe much lately, aside from my weekend trip to Amsterdam, so I've been exploring the city of Maastricht. The city is full of public art, so lately I've taken to wandering around and photographing it. Some of these pictures are on Facebook, in case anyone would like to peruse them. If you don't have access to my Facebook, let me know and I'll send a link along. I've not been a visually artistic person in a long time (since about kindergarten), but I've discovered that I really like photography. I also like exploring, either by myself or accompanied, so this habit will likely continue.
The weather has also gotten a lot nicer, which significantly increases my motivation to go exploring. And even exercising (because I don't really want to be morbidly obese, but I'm not about to stop drinking beer especially now that I'm 21). I even went out and played tennis with my roommate today. Actually, played is a bit of an overstatement. More like, I swung a frying pan-shaped object at a yellow spherical object and hoped that said fuzzy sphere would land near where I was aiming. Still, it was nice to get outside.
Being abroad is an awesome experience (despite my earlier rambling). The looming prospect of finals can't put a damper on my mood today - the weather is definitely helping. I'm feeling pretty groovy today. I might even shave later. Life is becoming more and more normal but fun as always. Hopefully, I'll keep exploring and it'll keep getting better.
However, I think that precisely because I get restless wherever I am, I never develop such a strong tie to a place. I try to love everywhere I go, everywhere I live, take it all in. So I'm a little confused that my American-ness is surfacing so strongly. I find myself caring more about the ideology of America than ever before. I'm an "other" here. When a group of Americans are being loud in public, they're exhibiting a nasty American trait. When a group of Europeans are being loud in public, they're simply being loud.
There's a lot of baggage associated with being American. Some of it, maybe most of it, derives from American arrogance. We call ourselves the greatest country in the world, and we mean it (most of the time). For a long time, I've questioned that basic premise, especially as America kept slipping in world standing. At what point would the US no longer be the greatest country in the world? And how does one quantify that? It's the same problem I'm having with my own identity. I sincerely love life in Europe. I see things that are better in Holland and things that are worse, but I think that it's ultimately pointless to view being abroad in that paradigm. Who cares who's best? I just want to learn all I can, have all the fun I can, and come home with a new perspective on life at home.
Thanks for enduring this, if you made it through. Now onto the fun stuff...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay. For those of you who didn't read my rambling, I'll just tell you how I've been lately. Once again, there's been a huge gap between my last post and this one. Part of it is that the above section has been in revision for about a week, and I still feel as if it has no conclusion. Still, I probably should try to do a better job of posting. Plus, a lot's happened.
A quick summary: I attended the US-Dutch soccer game in Amsterdam, wherein Landon Donovan ripped out my heart and promptly sloppily passed it out of bounds. Michelle came to visit me, making me feel like the luckiest fella in the land. I turned 21, which while fun and with Michelle, was rendered mildly anticlimactic by the whole "being in Europe" thing. It was redeemed because I got to spend it in Amsterdam with Michelle*. It is currently exam week, so you can probably blame my procrastination for the length of this post.
*Hurray for passive voice!
I'm still attending Dutch classes for another week. At University Maastricht, there are two 7-week blocks in which we take two classes, so my first block is just about wrapping up. In Dutch class, we finally learned imperative phrases; I say finally because I really enjoy being able to tell people what to do. I also learned how to say "asshole" in Dutch (klootzak). Oddly enough, those two skills work in conjunction quite nicely. I can also order in restaurants, tell a doctor that I'm sick, or give directions to the post office. However, in actual fact I do none of these things because everyone (EVERYONE!) speaks English here. Learning Dutch just feels so worth it. Since I'm currently putting off studying for my final in my European State History class, I'll refrain from talking too much about it.
I haven't been exploring Europe much lately, aside from my weekend trip to Amsterdam, so I've been exploring the city of Maastricht. The city is full of public art, so lately I've taken to wandering around and photographing it. Some of these pictures are on Facebook, in case anyone would like to peruse them. If you don't have access to my Facebook, let me know and I'll send a link along. I've not been a visually artistic person in a long time (since about kindergarten), but I've discovered that I really like photography. I also like exploring, either by myself or accompanied, so this habit will likely continue.
The weather has also gotten a lot nicer, which significantly increases my motivation to go exploring. And even exercising (because I don't really want to be morbidly obese, but I'm not about to stop drinking beer especially now that I'm 21). I even went out and played tennis with my roommate today. Actually, played is a bit of an overstatement. More like, I swung a frying pan-shaped object at a yellow spherical object and hoped that said fuzzy sphere would land near where I was aiming. Still, it was nice to get outside.
Being abroad is an awesome experience (despite my earlier rambling). The looming prospect of finals can't put a damper on my mood today - the weather is definitely helping. I'm feeling pretty groovy today. I might even shave later. Life is becoming more and more normal but fun as always. Hopefully, I'll keep exploring and it'll keep getting better.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Carnival and Prague
Hello all,
I haven't written a post in a while, and boy oh boy has a lot happened to me. General Maastrichtian life is swell. For all my griping about sandwich size and scarves, it's been remarkably easy to transition to life here. Everyone speaking English certainly helps.
Starting a week ago Friday, Maastricht became a city of (Rastafarian-esque) red, green, and yellow in honor of Carnival (Mardi Gras). I knew that this took place in South America and definitely in New Orleans, but I was unaware to what extent everyone went to celebrate here. The festival is a bit like scaled down N'awlins Mardi Gras. Everyone is dressed up. The holiday seems to know no age restrictions. There were little kids dancing outside the bars (which all stay open late and jack up their prices) at night, but the people having the best time all had at least 40 years on me. I saw an elderly guy in a wheelchair, dressed as a king (with wheelchair throne in tow), looking as if he was having the time of his life.
Everyone acts, I think, how they would like to act all year. And I don't just mean drunk. They no longer "act normal because normal is crazy enough"; for four days a year, everyone acts crazy. People go to elaborate lengths to create thematic costumes. Many spend all year sewing multi-faceted costumes so they can add a new layer every night leading up to the Tuesday finale. And everyone has a great time. The usually friendly Dutch people are even friendlier. I was pleased to note that they're also louder in public; I first truly felt at home when I passed a group of people drunkenly singing Sweet Caroline. Of course, I joined in.
The festival culminated on Tuesday night with the ceremonial burning of the lady of Carnival. It sounds a little creepy for an entire city to cheer on the burning of an effigy, but... Actually it's kinda creepy. Still, a lot of fun. I dressed up in a shiny, green puffy shirt (think Seinfeld Pirate shirt) and a ram's hat which I named Ram Emmanuel. I was lookin pretty fly. As usual.
This past Wednesday I went to Prague with my roommate Ben, and friendly neighbors Pat and Davis. We somehow managed to stay in a 4-person room at our hostel for only $6 per night each. The bed there was actually more comfortable than my bed in Maastricht. So I might be moving there. If only for the opportunity to chuckle every time I say the word "check." I almost bought a shirt that says Prague: Czech it out, but couldn't find one that fit so, much to the chagrin of Michelle, I bought a Czech soccer jersey. As usual, I look pretty fly in it.
The city of Prague pulls off the double whammy of being cheap and awesome. The city was spared in the major wars, so all the old architecture is still there. It's still weird for me to turn a corner and just run into a castle, and it happens all the time in Europe. The nightlife is also really fun. We went on a pub crawl which took us to 4 bars and ended in the largest club in Europe. I have no idea if the club is actually the largest in Europe, but it says so on their advertisements. I also got a beer in the largest Irish bar in Prague, so maybe their establishments just like boasting. We stayed 4 days and had a great time.
Czeching out of Prague (sorry, I couldn't help myself), I received the handsiest pat-down of my life. In America whomever pats me down is legally obligated to assure me that he's touching any "sensitive" areas with the back of his hand. In Europe, there's no assurance because it's blatantly untrue. I made it through to my gate, and without wasting all my money on absinthe in the duty-free shop. I'm back in Maastricht now, returning to class and normal life. We haven't had any sun in about 2 weeks, but I'm holding out hope. Otherwise, life is pretty consistently great.
I haven't written a post in a while, and boy oh boy has a lot happened to me. General Maastrichtian life is swell. For all my griping about sandwich size and scarves, it's been remarkably easy to transition to life here. Everyone speaking English certainly helps.
Starting a week ago Friday, Maastricht became a city of (Rastafarian-esque) red, green, and yellow in honor of Carnival (Mardi Gras). I knew that this took place in South America and definitely in New Orleans, but I was unaware to what extent everyone went to celebrate here. The festival is a bit like scaled down N'awlins Mardi Gras. Everyone is dressed up. The holiday seems to know no age restrictions. There were little kids dancing outside the bars (which all stay open late and jack up their prices) at night, but the people having the best time all had at least 40 years on me. I saw an elderly guy in a wheelchair, dressed as a king (with wheelchair throne in tow), looking as if he was having the time of his life.
Everyone acts, I think, how they would like to act all year. And I don't just mean drunk. They no longer "act normal because normal is crazy enough"; for four days a year, everyone acts crazy. People go to elaborate lengths to create thematic costumes. Many spend all year sewing multi-faceted costumes so they can add a new layer every night leading up to the Tuesday finale. And everyone has a great time. The usually friendly Dutch people are even friendlier. I was pleased to note that they're also louder in public; I first truly felt at home when I passed a group of people drunkenly singing Sweet Caroline. Of course, I joined in.
The festival culminated on Tuesday night with the ceremonial burning of the lady of Carnival. It sounds a little creepy for an entire city to cheer on the burning of an effigy, but... Actually it's kinda creepy. Still, a lot of fun. I dressed up in a shiny, green puffy shirt (think Seinfeld Pirate shirt) and a ram's hat which I named Ram Emmanuel. I was lookin pretty fly. As usual.
This past Wednesday I went to Prague with my roommate Ben, and friendly neighbors Pat and Davis. We somehow managed to stay in a 4-person room at our hostel for only $6 per night each. The bed there was actually more comfortable than my bed in Maastricht. So I might be moving there. If only for the opportunity to chuckle every time I say the word "check." I almost bought a shirt that says Prague: Czech it out, but couldn't find one that fit so, much to the chagrin of Michelle, I bought a Czech soccer jersey. As usual, I look pretty fly in it.
The city of Prague pulls off the double whammy of being cheap and awesome. The city was spared in the major wars, so all the old architecture is still there. It's still weird for me to turn a corner and just run into a castle, and it happens all the time in Europe. The nightlife is also really fun. We went on a pub crawl which took us to 4 bars and ended in the largest club in Europe. I have no idea if the club is actually the largest in Europe, but it says so on their advertisements. I also got a beer in the largest Irish bar in Prague, so maybe their establishments just like boasting. We stayed 4 days and had a great time.
Czeching out of Prague (sorry, I couldn't help myself), I received the handsiest pat-down of my life. In America whomever pats me down is legally obligated to assure me that he's touching any "sensitive" areas with the back of his hand. In Europe, there's no assurance because it's blatantly untrue. I made it through to my gate, and without wasting all my money on absinthe in the duty-free shop. I'm back in Maastricht now, returning to class and normal life. We haven't had any sun in about 2 weeks, but I'm holding out hope. Otherwise, life is pretty consistently great.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Hoi hoi from Maastricht!
As you can tell by my casual (and always classy) usage of Provincial Limburg vernacular, I'm becoming increasingly used to the Dutch way of life. I'm still mildly annoyed by the tiny sandwiches and lack of free water, but there are advantages as well. E.g. - I can now order coffee completely guiltless because there's no free alternative. I also haven't slept in weeks. Trade-offs.
Overall, the Dutch way of life is not that different from the American. While politically more liberal, there is a conservative streak in Dutch culture in everything but government. It's not to Japanese levels, but showing off or showing someone up is considered very rude. No one drives flashy cars; instead they pride themselves on their car's mileage. Doctors proudly live in government housing projects, which expounding the theme of Dutch governmental utility, are much nicer than in America. People just don't accumulate or consume merely for the sake of accumulating or consuming. No one really wants to stand out.
There is an odd dichotomy in Dutch people's willingness to be conspicuous. When someone gets in their way, Dutch people are not shy about letting them know. They are very forward and don't beat around the bush the way Americans might. If you are walking in the bike lane, they will hit you if you don't move. They won't run you down, but simply expect you to get out of the way. I've seen this happen. When their lives are impeded, they will let you know.
Oddly enough, the opposite is true of Dutch drivers. There are numerous roundabouts (rotaries for those of you from New England), yet instead of a mad dash to freedom, pedestrians are always given the right of way. This is even more impressive considering the Dutch are self-policing. I've seen 2 police officers in the entire time I've been in Maastricht, yet there seems to be almost no crime, and everything runs smoothly. The Dutch, I think, let pedestrians cross out of a quest for normalcy. They want pedestrians out of the bike lanes because it is equivalently abnormal. Pedestrians stop traffic because it is.
No one wants to stand out in this culture. When I wrote in an earlier post that I was a fan of the phrase "act normal - normal is crazy enough," I don't think I understood it's full meaning. In my mind, that meant be yourself, open up, enjoy life; and to some extent it does. People here are friendly. They have a good time. They like to make fun of the French (don't we all) and Germans. Yet there is an opposite undercurrent to this saying. The Dutch, for all their liberal laws and leftist governmental policies, just want to be left alone. They want everything to be normal.
I was in Amsterdam last week and witnessed something that perfectly illustrates this point. I saw a man ticketed - in the middle of the city most known for debauchery in all of Europe - for riding his bike on the sidewalk. He was perhaps 3 blocks from the red light district, where interspersed among numerous pubs and probably any drug anyone could ever want are hundreds of half-naked women trying to solicit sex from passers by. But no crime there - it's normal. It's accepted. Biking on the sidewalk? Not normal.
The city of Amsterdam was beautiful, and I intend to go back. I stayed with a friend from Brandeis, Sarit, and had a great time getting lost and then found throughout the city. I even went to the Anne Frank house in an attempt to do something worthwhile. It was beautiful and somber. Reading Anne's desires to see the trees and breathe fresh air, while actually seeing the tree she was yearning for was pretty powerful. The train ride home was a subdued experience.
In other news, classes are in full swing. I did 200 pages of reading about the formation of the European state today. I'm learning Dutch and even had a conversation with a shopkeeper that lasted for longer than 3 seconds. No progress on the scarf front, but I'm just waiting for one that speaks to me. But then I might freak out because clothes are speaking. I have next week off because it's Carnival (Mardi Gras), which is a huge deal in Maastricht. I'm going to Prague on Wednesday. This post is long and low on jokes. They'll be back next time I promise. I hope everyone is doing well and didn't faint from the length of this post. Be well. I'll check in either from Prague or after getting back.
Overall, the Dutch way of life is not that different from the American. While politically more liberal, there is a conservative streak in Dutch culture in everything but government. It's not to Japanese levels, but showing off or showing someone up is considered very rude. No one drives flashy cars; instead they pride themselves on their car's mileage. Doctors proudly live in government housing projects, which expounding the theme of Dutch governmental utility, are much nicer than in America. People just don't accumulate or consume merely for the sake of accumulating or consuming. No one really wants to stand out.
There is an odd dichotomy in Dutch people's willingness to be conspicuous. When someone gets in their way, Dutch people are not shy about letting them know. They are very forward and don't beat around the bush the way Americans might. If you are walking in the bike lane, they will hit you if you don't move. They won't run you down, but simply expect you to get out of the way. I've seen this happen. When their lives are impeded, they will let you know.
Oddly enough, the opposite is true of Dutch drivers. There are numerous roundabouts (rotaries for those of you from New England), yet instead of a mad dash to freedom, pedestrians are always given the right of way. This is even more impressive considering the Dutch are self-policing. I've seen 2 police officers in the entire time I've been in Maastricht, yet there seems to be almost no crime, and everything runs smoothly. The Dutch, I think, let pedestrians cross out of a quest for normalcy. They want pedestrians out of the bike lanes because it is equivalently abnormal. Pedestrians stop traffic because it is.
No one wants to stand out in this culture. When I wrote in an earlier post that I was a fan of the phrase "act normal - normal is crazy enough," I don't think I understood it's full meaning. In my mind, that meant be yourself, open up, enjoy life; and to some extent it does. People here are friendly. They have a good time. They like to make fun of the French (don't we all) and Germans. Yet there is an opposite undercurrent to this saying. The Dutch, for all their liberal laws and leftist governmental policies, just want to be left alone. They want everything to be normal.
I was in Amsterdam last week and witnessed something that perfectly illustrates this point. I saw a man ticketed - in the middle of the city most known for debauchery in all of Europe - for riding his bike on the sidewalk. He was perhaps 3 blocks from the red light district, where interspersed among numerous pubs and probably any drug anyone could ever want are hundreds of half-naked women trying to solicit sex from passers by. But no crime there - it's normal. It's accepted. Biking on the sidewalk? Not normal.
The city of Amsterdam was beautiful, and I intend to go back. I stayed with a friend from Brandeis, Sarit, and had a great time getting lost and then found throughout the city. I even went to the Anne Frank house in an attempt to do something worthwhile. It was beautiful and somber. Reading Anne's desires to see the trees and breathe fresh air, while actually seeing the tree she was yearning for was pretty powerful. The train ride home was a subdued experience.
In other news, classes are in full swing. I did 200 pages of reading about the formation of the European state today. I'm learning Dutch and even had a conversation with a shopkeeper that lasted for longer than 3 seconds. No progress on the scarf front, but I'm just waiting for one that speaks to me. But then I might freak out because clothes are speaking. I have next week off because it's Carnival (Mardi Gras), which is a huge deal in Maastricht. I'm going to Prague on Wednesday. This post is long and low on jokes. They'll be back next time I promise. I hope everyone is doing well and didn't faint from the length of this post. Be well. I'll check in either from Prague or after getting back.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Watch out where the huskies go
The Dutch, so good at recycling and social welfare, can't seem to get their act together on one thing: no one picks up after their dogs. Maybe the right wing in America has a point; perhaps this is the real effect of a government that actually helps its people. They expect everything to be done for them. If it means America's going to end up covered in dog poo, then I'd think twice about socialized medicine. And recycling.
Life in Maastricht is beginning to feel normal. I have class a grueling 3 days a week. The Dutch all seem so overworked, and now I see why. The University Maastricht uses Problem Based Learning, essentially discussion sections led by students which are then supplemented by occasional lectures. Since I rarely shut up in class, I really enjoy this newfound freedom. My classes (The European State, Dutch) are interesting and very different from what I've experienced, which is a good thing.
I've begun to settle into routines - going to class, doing my homework, buying beer. Normal is definitely not boring, though. I still manage to get lost roaming the streets, but unlike in America, where city roaming carries an element of danger, Maastricht just has more and more interesting history. I've found buildings dating back over 1000 years, remnants of the old city wall - complete with cannons -, an outdoor art exhibit featuring a life-size dead giraffe, ceramic legs artfully splayed, and a statue of D'artagnan (the fourth musketeer, who apparently did something in Maastricht). The giraffe is probably the weirdest of all, as about 20 feet, ahem, 6 metres away sits a statue of bear with his head in his hands, presumably mourning the giraffe. Not really a fun place to go at night if you're spooked easily. Still, it's better than Milwaukee's statue of the Fonz.
The sun came out yesterday for the first time since I've been here, and I celebrated by playing tennis (with balls possibly as old as the city itself) and desperately trying to get a tan. You know, so I can fit in with all the tan Scandinavians. Actually, they should feel at home. As befits my luck, these past 2 weeks have been the snowiest Maastricht has seen since 1979. No wonder it feels like home already.
I still feel under-dressed everywhere I go. But then I remember that I'm Amuhrican, and I don't care what those Europagans think. Or something like that. I am looking to get a scarf though, but I'll probably stay away from the skinny jeans and pointed shoes.
I'm going to Amsterdam in about an hour. Should be a fun weekend. As always, keep me updated on all of your lives. I like hearing from people.
Life in Maastricht is beginning to feel normal. I have class a grueling 3 days a week. The Dutch all seem so overworked, and now I see why. The University Maastricht uses Problem Based Learning, essentially discussion sections led by students which are then supplemented by occasional lectures. Since I rarely shut up in class, I really enjoy this newfound freedom. My classes (The European State, Dutch) are interesting and very different from what I've experienced, which is a good thing.
I've begun to settle into routines - going to class, doing my homework, buying beer. Normal is definitely not boring, though. I still manage to get lost roaming the streets, but unlike in America, where city roaming carries an element of danger, Maastricht just has more and more interesting history. I've found buildings dating back over 1000 years, remnants of the old city wall - complete with cannons -, an outdoor art exhibit featuring a life-size dead giraffe, ceramic legs artfully splayed, and a statue of D'artagnan (the fourth musketeer, who apparently did something in Maastricht). The giraffe is probably the weirdest of all, as about 20 feet, ahem, 6 metres away sits a statue of bear with his head in his hands, presumably mourning the giraffe. Not really a fun place to go at night if you're spooked easily. Still, it's better than Milwaukee's statue of the Fonz.
The sun came out yesterday for the first time since I've been here, and I celebrated by playing tennis (with balls possibly as old as the city itself) and desperately trying to get a tan. You know, so I can fit in with all the tan Scandinavians. Actually, they should feel at home. As befits my luck, these past 2 weeks have been the snowiest Maastricht has seen since 1979. No wonder it feels like home already.
I still feel under-dressed everywhere I go. But then I remember that I'm Amuhrican, and I don't care what those Europagans think. Or something like that. I am looking to get a scarf though, but I'll probably stay away from the skinny jeans and pointed shoes.
I'm going to Amsterdam in about an hour. Should be a fun weekend. As always, keep me updated on all of your lives. I like hearing from people.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
