Long Delay

Well as I'm sure you have noticed, there was a bit of a delay in my posting over the last month. For the time being, let's just pretend October didn't happen. To make up for my slow posting, I have finally started uploading pictures to the internet. Here is the link to see them:


http://www.flickr.com/photos/mickeyboxell/


I hope this gives you a taste of my time so far in the Netherlands. I will try to get back on track with posting  so it occurs more frequently than in the past month (although just by sharing this, I have already done much better than I did in the whole October).

I started writing this on Sunday (now two Sundays ago), but a series of internet-related set backs and academic distractions, ie. homework, delayed my efforts to finish writing before today. Please read this post with Sunday in mind.

This past week was arguably the least eventful of any so far. My classes remain appealing, and despite their engaging nature, as academics often do, they are becoming routine and uninteresting for outsiders to hear about.

Yesterday was national monument day in the Netherlands, and as such, was the perfect opportunity to finally make our way to Fort Rijnawen. After a leisurely morning we grabbed our cameras and biked out to the countryside towards the fort. Before we left, my roommate and I both shed our jackets because of a shared assumption that the relatively nice weather would hold. Though I would like to be a good storyteller here and reintroduce the shed-jacket component of my tale later: ironically showcasing how our ill-informed decision left us drenched while walking around an old Dutch military installation, in fact it was the right decision and having been stuck with the striking eighty percent humidity in a jacket would have been much worse.

Our tour group was comprised of post-middle age people and a small number of children. Our guide was an eccentric old Dutchman wearing a period-appropriate jacket and hat, who graciously spoke to us in English each time following his narrative in Dutch. Though I frankly feel that the best part of the tour was the guide, the area itself was worth traveling to, and the view to the other side of the canal, to a place where we had stood longing to cross to the other side, was gratifying to say the least. The fort was still in good shape, unsurprising given that it was dated only to 1869, an early age for many European monuments. Despite its young age and the realization that this fort had never actually been used for combat, it still managed to have an interesting and at times sordid past. One example of such ignoble behavior at the fort was the use of its facilities for the execution of the Nazi’s prisoners during World War Two.

Throughout the underground portion of the tour (every building was built into a hillside or had one artificially constructed on top of it), I had fun hiding in pitch-black rooms, making spooky noises to scare the kids. Before I seem like a pariah because of my dark actions (literally and figuratively) the kids on the tour were old enough to actually enjoy the spookiness rather than be scared by it.

Towards the end of the tour we were given a choice of continuing on to the castle or leaving a little bit early. We decided to stay. Our decision was rewarded with the tour of the installation's "Castle", a massive military structure. Hopefully I'll have time to elaborate on this experience at a later date. 

To save time while still expressing some of what I've done over the past two weeks

After the tour we went and played frisbee. It was fun, but by the time we started the sun was making its final descent along with the temperature. Also, since it was the first warm day after a rainy week, the ground was still a bit wet. All in all it was fun, but not of the same level of play as the week before. 

Friday and Saturday of that week comprised Bartenders weekend. This event was a time for Europeans to finally learn how Americans drink by ingesting excessive amounts of alcohol. 

On Saturday evening was a fantastic storm. It started off as dry lightning, which I though was novel, giving not only having rarely seen it in the US, but also because of its magnitude. I walked up the spiral fire escape staircase of our patio to get above the building and see the extent of the lightning. It was an amazing sight: three different sources illuminating the sky, one above the stadium to the south, one above the city to the west, and one above us. Because I was standing on a metal surface high above the ground, I decided for safety reasons to descend from my perch. Though in good literary fashion, I would like to tell you that as soon as I departed, lightning arched to the staircase and cause a brilliant spark, in fact I probably would have been safe to stay up on top of it and continue watching the storm. Fortunately my weariness was proven to be not entirely unfounded when the sky opened up and a rain poured down to us more ferociously than any of frequent and voracious torrents had before. The native Dutch and foreigners alike were astonished by the storm, and many ran out side to experience it first hand. Following a break from bartender's weekend, many participants went outside to have a smoke and relax. A courageous pair from the group decided that it would be a good idea to move the remnants of a very large tree, previously standing next to the dining that had fallen over in the fierce wind, inside of the building next door. Campus security quickly put an end to their escapades and closed down the bar. 

The following day I spent hours in the library reading texts about the philosophy and innovations of the 2nd century Alexandrian scholar, Ptolemy, for a presentation I was scheduled to give that thursday. Aside from the actual execution of that presentation, I cannot think of anything of consequence that occurred that week. 

Saturday I returned to the library with friends to read Tacitus' Germania, but unfortunately the only english translation was an old volume that had to be requested. Instead, I made origami and watched Top Gear in the library while my friends worked. The following day I went back to the library to actually study. Much to my chagrin, my request still had not been processed. This sad fact gave me an excuse to make more pragmatic reading choices and finish up books I was actually assigned. The evening after my Sunday library visit I finally accomplished something I'd been looking forward to for months. I biked with a friend downtown to the Pathe Rembrant bioscoop and sat down for a showing of this summer's masterpiece blockbuster, Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Despite, in true cinematic fashion, digitally editing the hell out of San Francisco to include the Golden Gate Bridge in every wide-angle shot, the movie was fantastic and will hopefully be the start to a new franchise. 

Yesterday, after the end of my History of Humanities and Liberal Arts class, I went with my Art History class to the Catharijneconvent, the top museum for Christianity in the Netherlands. I saw some catholic and protestant stuff, it was cool, and I definitely didn't almost fall asleep listening to the never-ending monotonous tone of the guide. In all seriousness, it was a very well put together museum containing truly amazing artifacts. 

Following the end of our tour and a brief sojourn to buy a sandwich, I briefly returned to my unit before biking to Olympos for a marathon volleyball session. Though I say marathon partly seriously, given that it was the placement round in which we had six consecutive games, in all actuality, there were many breaks in the five-hour period and the games ended after a time limit was reached rather than by score. We played poorly at some times and well at others and at the end of the day had gone 4-2. It should have been 5-1. 

Good morning and good night. 

The First Week and Weekend

This past week was my first one to be full of classes since our Dutch Language and Culture class ended in mid-August. I started off the semester with Political Science: State of the Art, a class about comparative politics taught by an engaging Turkish woman. Though I was initially apprehensive about it, having never taken a political science class in college, I warmed up to the idea of it after a discussion about dissatisfaction with political systems in our home countries. I won't elaborate too much on this, but the simple question spiraled into a revealing discussion about disappointment with the Dutch coalition system, an influx of conservative Russian Jewish people into Israel after the fall of the Soviet Union-and how they primarily vote along ethnic lines, and more political and cultural distinctions previously unknown to me (and I would assume, to most people). Another enticing part of the class was that, despite its size, I was the only Student from the U.S. in it (a rare occurrence and something especially great given the multicultural orientation of the class. 


After my first class ended, I walked over to my second, and only other, class of the day, art history. The class had slightly fewer students in it than its predecessor had, which was remarkable given the incredibly small size of classes to begin with. As a brief aside, classes here are capped at twenty-eight with absolutely no wiggle-room, the whole school, around seven hundred people, is smaller than some of the large introduction-level courses at UCSB. Meanwhile back at the ranch, my art history class, taught by a Serbian woman with more raw feminine enthusiasm than I have ever seen anyone muster before (I would explain this further, but frankly I have no idea how to articulate a proper description of this teacher) turned out to be a perfect choice for me to take. The class focuses on a wide array of art styles and periods whilst weaving in a historical narrative along the way. The teacher is writing her dissertation on Dutch 17th century masterworks, one of my favorite types of painting, and plans to share her specific knowledge of this later in the course. Finally, there are even components of the class where instead of reading a text, hearing a lecture, or watching a slideshow, we actually get to practice painting ourselves and also will travel to the museums in which the works of art we study are housed. 


Though art history class ended sooner than I would have liked, a surprise given the grueling hour-and-forty-five minute length, I was happy that my first day of college in the Netherlands was over and that I could once again relax. 


The following day I had only one class, the History of Liberal Arts and Sciences. As my only history class this semester I was very excited to take it and do something I excel at. When I got to class and my teacher, an older Dutch gentleman began to speak I was greeted with the gut-wrenching remark that every student enthusiastic about a class dreads hearing, "I was just assigned to teach this class last week after the original teacher fell ill, and haven't had time to really prepare." Not only was this statement itself demoralizing, but the tempo of and timbre of his calculated style of speech was close to coma inducing. He then began to say that as a philosophy teacher rather than a history teacher, this class would be more about the context and development of educational concepts rather than the specific history behind them... Needless to say I died a little inside after hearing this. Finally, the teacher twisted the knife protruding from my chest when he revealed his nature as a Luddite and asked us to handwrite everything. Frankly I'm fine with handwriting and my script is so legible that it often gets described as girly or mechanical, but in an academic setting, the digital storage of notes and the subsequent ability to search specific words or dates at the click of a button is something completely impossible with an analogue medium. 


The only other event of consequence on Tuesday was the information meeting about volleyball try-outs the next day. 


The following day I had the last of my first class meetings, World Religions. A Dutch man who was raised in Indonesia taught the class. Because of his writings about Indonesian religious tradition, he was blacklisted by president Suharto and couldn't return to Indonesia until the military dictatorship ended in 1998. In contrast to my alleged history class, World Religions has a major history component, and seems like it will be both fun and enlightening. 


Hours after class ended I went to volleyball try-outs. Unfortunately for me and the other involved, the try-outs were timed to perfectly eclipse dinner so towards the end I was starving. This was made even worse when I decided to stay past the end of practice to continue playing and when I got back and played basketball for another hour. Despite the fun I had, not eating before or after a lot of athletics, with the added bonus of compounded days of moderate sleep deprivation left me in a pretty rough state. 


The rest of the week was more of the same: class, relax, eat, and sleep. Thankfully I only have one class to round off the week on Fridays, but this results in three classes on Thursday, which isn't my idea of fun. 


Though the week was quite blasé, Friday afternoon and the whole of Saturday were both filled with the best weather I've seen throughout my time here. The sky was a brilliant blue with negligible spots of white dotting the periphery. The best part was that not only was the weather beautiful to look at, but it delivered some actual heat to those waiting below. Though Friday's class meant that I couldn't fully capitalize on all of the sun that was offered, I more than made up for it on Saturday by getting up early and going with a couple of friends to read and play Frisbee at the nearby Wilhelmina park. When we arrived to the park, we were one of only a handful of groups taking early advantage of the dewy meadow in the middle of the park. This wasn't the case for long. Throughout the two hours we tossed the Frisbee, two hours during which I became completely drenched it sweat (I know this may not seem like the most pertinent comment, but I have so rarely sweat in this country that you'll have to believe me that it is), people crept further and further into the field until it was more than three quarters full. Unfortunately for us, during the quick break we took to rest up and dry off from the intense Frisbee-ing, three separate groups of voetbal (soccer) players filled the gap of the field we left open and effectively killed our game. Despite accepting this loss as a reason to take a break, within the hour we were back to business and borrowed a soccer ball to kick around ourselves. Thankfully for me, after a reasonable amount of time the group tired of the degenerate foot sport and returned to Frisbee, a sport that utilizes the opposable thumbs evolution worked so hard to provide us with.


Following another bout of tossing the disc we parted ways and I went back to my unit to finally get some reading done. Unfortunately for me, but fortunately for the Gods of procrastination, the sun was still out by the time I returned, and for hours after, so my valiant efforts of studiousness were less successful than I would like to admit.


Being college, this past week was also filled with social drama that people seem to do their best to provoke. The details are too many to delve into at this time, but the culmination was a lecture from twelve until two o’clock this morning about how it’s wrong for me to not drink. Let me just share how much of a blast that was for me to experience.


And on a final note, I would really appreciate if they celebrated Labor Day here too and I had a three-day weekend to spend traveling.

Intro Week

This past week, including today, has been the introduction week for all of the new UCU students. On the first day we were split up into 'families,' groups of ten new students lead by three second or third year 'mothers' and 'fathers.' Though some of the activities, especially the frequent speeches by university staff members have been about as fun and engaging as falling face first onto a cactus, others have ranging from peculiar to genuinely fun. In regards to those latter activities, the second day was comprised of a number of group sports and culminated with a tennis-themed party. The group sports themselves were a mixed-bag. Ultimate frisbee was an enjoyable team-building sport, aside from the frustration of so many European kids who had never even seen a frisbee let alone thrown one. Basketball was another 'fun' sport to play: many of the participants had never played the sport and ran around without dribbling (the refereeing was a little lax to accomodate this type of people), others got overly aggressive because of the lack of strict rule-enforcement and starting checking and throwing elbows. On top of all of that, it was drizzling the whole time we played and the ball accrued a very respectable coat of mud. Aside from these inconveniences, it was still gratifying to finally play basketball again.

The evening before, each team created flags: a painted piece of fabric symbolizing the group. My group, group eight, had chosen the theme of 'Super 8' and painted a number eight with a cape and beams of light filled with the flag of each nationality represented by our group. Though for the time being we had enjoyed our flag immensely, little did we know it was going to be part of an activity that could only be described as pure evil. The flag game had no rules; or at least the leaders of the event had done such an abysmal job of conveying them, that nobody knew what they were. The goal was simple: possess as many flags of other groups as possible, and the only known rule was to keep the flag visible at all times. The complex part of the event was that it could occur at any time of day and getting the flags always devolved into a tug-of-war match relying on brute-strength and the compartmentalization of that part of your psyche that allows you to participate in civil society.

Needless to say, this activity resulted in innumerable cuts, scratches, and bruises, sore arms and legs, and even a dislocated kneecap. It was really, really fun stuff. 

Some of the other activities that day including the 'hump race,' an activity utilizing a giant inflatable red rod that your team had to sit on and bounce through an obstacle course, a relay course on a bouncy house that although ordinarily easy, was next to impossible because of how wet it had become, and also a bike race where the rider had to race to a cone and back with a flat of beer in one hand. It is important to note that for hydration there was a stand of free beer available throughout the day.

Following our marathon sports day, on Wednesday we took everything much easier. We took things so much easier, in fact, that I really cannot recall anything of interest until the night time. As soon as the light outside indicated dusk was approaching, everyone went to their rooms to change into bar-appropriate attire. Our family biked down to the city center and began a night of bar-hopping or pub-crawling as it is better-known in Europe. After traveling to six different bars and clubs, eating french fries, and getting extremely hydrated, we went to a club on the canal. The club, along with almost every canal-level establishment, was built by hobbits. The entrances were all curved, and the ceiling short. The number of people crammed into the tiny rooms was astounding and led to a hot and uncomfortable time. 

Yesterday we were treated to a city tour and fox-hunt, a Dutch activity similar to a scavenger hunt, but with people and clues instead of objects (I actually created a game similar to this while working at SFBC away camp). The fox-hunt began with a brief introduction from our 'grandparents,' those individuals with even more authority than our parents, who locked the gate to the school behind us and stated that the only way back in was to finish the hunt. Before they were finished speaking, something that would literally NEVER happen in an American school, and by that I really do mean NEVER - this isn't even like school-sponsored drinking never, but like NEVER, NEVER, happened. Our grandparent was distracted momentarily by a car driving by and blasting its horn. Three masked figures came out of the vehicle with guns and started yelling about an anarchist revolution before tying up and throwing our grandparent into the back seat. The lead anarchist then revealed that the only way to get our grandparent back was to complete the obstacle course. He returned to his car blasting the siren on his loud speaker, and sped off, followed closely by a school security car. I was dumbfounded. When the masked people first debarked the vehicle I desperately tried to fathom what I was seeing. My first instinct recalled what had happened in Oslo last month, but at the same time the event seemed to contrived. Regardless of my feelings, I kept reflecting on the fact that if an American College or university would have pulled that stunt, people would have sued the school for psychological trauma, neighbors would have called the police, and the actors portraying the anarchists would have probably been shot to death because of the realism of their weapons. With this in mind, I started the fox hunt.

I will spare you the boring details of the hunt because, as so much of its point was to familiarize the new students with a town I've been living in, and exploring every part of, for the last two weeks, I was a little bored and reluctant to have to walk everywhere when I had a perfectly sound bike to use. The two main highlights for me were the actors portraying a pimp and prostitute, another sight usually not affiliated with school-sponsored activities, and Tivoli. When we reached the city-center, we were greeted by a pimp, and his 'bitch.' Both actors, especially the pimp, played their parts quite well and were not too much fun to be around. Our task at this point of the hunt was to get the phone numbers of two people on the street. To accomplish this, the pimp picked on of the girls of the group, made her his 'bitch,' and walked around with her to get phone numbers. Though this activity was off-putting, it didn't leave me with as much dismay as going by Tivoli. One of our activities required us to go to an antique store and buy something for one euro and fifty cents to please our kidnappers. Next door was Tivoli, the biggest club in the area and the location of the next concert of a band I really like, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. Finding out about the concert so late I didn't have time to get tickets...

In the evening we had a brief break and then got ready for the 'White Party.' Contrary to popular belief, and to the racist attitudes of the Dutch, non-white people were allowed in as well. Before the party, I went with some of my friends to their's and another groups 'mixer' where we played drinking games. The first game used a children's game called 'stunt pilot,' where players used small paddles to keep a plane up in the air with a goal of protecting their chickens. The drinking component occurred whenever one of your chickens died. Though I did a poor job of describing it just now, it really was quite intricately made and fascinating to watch. The second game was called 'what the fuck' and was a more explicit of some of the games I used to play at Y-camp. In the end, the games were both quite fun and very useful for learning names. The only difficulty arose when I had to convince a room full of European kids that I actually was drinking while playing these game, and ended up repeated spilling beer on myself.

Done with finals

Testing here is not very much fun. We have only taken our classes here for 8 days or fewer in some cases and it's not easy acclimating to a new academic system. Regardless of this, thankfully they are over for the time being and I can spend a stress-free weekend traveling.

Sorry for the delay

I know it has been a while since I last posted and that is because I have been swamped with work and activities. This week someone new, a Canadian Dutchman named Bjorn, moved onto our floor. He is very interesting, well-spoken, informed, and good to talk with. Today we went to Delft to visit the center of water management. After being treated to a two-hour lecture about water, we went to the Nieuwe Kierk of Delft where the royal Oranje family has been buried since King Willem's death in 1564. The piazza, and I describe it as such because it was so evocative of an italian plaza, was amazing. I really enjoyed the portion of the city I saw.

Following our time in Delft, we went to the nearby kinderdijk where we finally got to see some windmills. The area was fairly stark, but the windmills were a welcome sight and actually quite prevalent in the part of the country in which we found ourselves.

Today was fun and I hope tomorrow's finals go well.

The weekend

Saturday I went to Amsterdam. Sunday I went to Rotterdam. This evening is the first time the sky has been clear enough for me to see the moon since I arrived. It is very bright and very full. Since the same side of the moon always faces the Earth, even though you may be hours away, we always see the same thing.

The rest of the day

Given the events of the late-afternoon, this morning almost seems as if it occurred yesterday. In my experience time actually moves faster here. I wake up early, go into the city for class, wander, and by the time I return it is already late. If you don't believe me then why is it almost Zaterdag, excuse me that's the Dutch slipping in, Saturday in the Netherlands while it is still Friday morning in the US?

Regardless, or as our former president would say, irregardless of my conceptions of time, this morning I went on a field trip, or the college equivalent of one, to Lombok, a Turkish and Moroccan town (or district, I'm not quite sure how areas are classified here in every case) in Utrecht. Though we were warned both directly and indirectly in lecture when we learned about the view of Geertz Wilder's "Freedom Party" towards immigrant and especially Muslims, that the neighborhood could be dangerous, we all loved it. Between classes early today, we biked to the other side of Utrecht Centraal, the location of Lombok, parked our bikes, and walked around. The area was full of shops with inexpensive and fresh fruit and interesting foods representing the local ethnicities. We each picked up fruit, and later stopped for a Turkish pizza; pizza being a word that obviously wasn't translated very well from Turkish. Despite the unfamiliar taste, the "pizza" was quite good and fueled me for the rest of our trip down the Lombok main street. Unfortunately, the street didn't continue as long as those in downtown Utrecht do, and we ended up turning around at a draw bridge marking the end of town.

Contrary to our expectations, and the pejorative rhetoric of the Freedom Party, Lombok was an enjoyable community that, thanks to its fresh fruits, good restaurants and bakeries, and, arguably most importantly, its inexpensive pricing, we will be frequently returning to.

Exploring

Today I rode out to the UU campus with a couple of friends. Since they were both staying there, we didn't remain at the campus long, but rather went to look for the old military installations left over from both world wars. After biking along a path with trees and a large river on one side and rolling pastures filled with cows, sheep, and the occasional rabbit on the other side, we finally found the first of the forts. The concrete bunkers we found were nestled into the side of knolls facing the river. they were awesome in and of themselves, but after parking our bikes and exploring further, we realized they were there to guard a much larger fort on the island at the center of the river. We chained our bikes to a bench nearby and walked through a gate to the path leading around the river.

As we walked around, the fort on the island became clearer and our preeminent goal became to reach it. Despite our goal, we were still stopped on our journey by a multitude of other fascinating items such as the remnants of old military trenches and a cottage made entirely of concrete. Eventually we saw the bridge to the island and on our way to it were stopped by fence and a rope delineating the paddock of a flock of sheep. Defeated, we turned around and after successfully summiting the concrete cottage, headed back to our bikes. Before long we ran into an elderly Dutch couple and inquired about the fort. They were incredibly helpful, explaining that the fort was open for a limited time now, but a tour needed to be charted to get over to it. They also shared with us some the history of the area, something hard to come by given that every sign was in Dutch. The small bunkers in the area were actually built by the Nazis during the occupation of the Netherlands and they used them to protect the World-War-One-era fort that they controlled. As soon as this information was imparted we were besieged by a deluge of sheep who had followed us away from their pen. Thankfully the amount of sheep excrement on the ground, something that before had made it much more slippery to climb onto the cottage, relieved my fear that we had just started a mass sheep exodus. Despite that fear being alleviated, I was still wary of the large flock of sheep descending on our position. The elderly couple promptly walked on, but unfortunately for us the sheep were blocking the exit.

Thanks to my goat-wrangling skills acquired helping John at Nueva, I quickly took care of the goat's wooly cousins and the exit was clear. Before leaving, however, I made sure to pet all of the baby sheep; one white, one brown, and one black, and we made fast friends much to the chagrin of their parents.

After mounting our bikes, we again took-off. Passing pastures of cows juxtaposed with bunkers resting in the center of their grazing land was quite a sight. Along the same road, we passed a farmhouse with a large number of families on the property. I quickly stopped and dismounted my bike to read the sign and promptly remembered that I don't Dutch. After that sobering realization we continued on our way back.

Our final stop was something found only in my greatest dreams. De pannenkoekenhuis, just saying this word brings a tear to my eye. Out in the middle of the forest and countryside we had found a big-red pancake house, that judging by the large amount of automobiles present (an odd sight in a country of mostly bikers) was immensely popular. Upon further inspection we realized that this was the same restaurant recommended to us privately by our instructor Jaap after class on the first day. The old-styled thatch roof adorning the building and its river-adjacent location made me feel like someone in a Tolkien novel, while the stunning playground made my friend Charles remark, "I know I'm 21, but that is a really cool slide." Unfortunately as it was getting late and none of us had money, we turned around and left the pannenkoekenhuis for another day.

While biking back to school we came upon another flock that I hadn't expected. What could only be described as a murder of hot-air balloons, a sight I can't recall ever seeing in person, sailed over the tree lines of the nearby fields, giving a fitting ending to an eventful day.

Night Kayaking

Tonight I went on a fantastic kayaking trip along the Utrecht canals. It was amazing seeing the city from such a different perspective, and seeing how interconnected the canals are throughout the Netherlands. Since the trip was coordinated through the great UU summer program rather than through UCEAP program, we went along with a number of foreign students from throughout the world. Along the trip I made friends with a Flemish student and his Portuguese rowing partner. The only drawback of the trip aside from its late culmination was getting another full set of clothes, literally every article of clothing I had on, soaking wet for the second time in a day. Meeting new people and going kayaking was a great way to spend a Thursday night.

Though I didn't go into great detail, the kayaking trip was a very eventful experience. Here are a few more details missed in my first post:

At times we brought together a number of kayaks and formed a large raft on which we could more easily meet people from other countries. Throughout the trip I had a nice banter with the student from Belgium, reminding him of a lack of coherent government in his country, and asking about his love for waffles. My rowing partner (who for the record was awful) and I had a sort of competition with to Spanish students to see who could reach each stage the most quickly. As there was a boat occupied by one girl from Hong and another from Taiwan, both of whom repeatedly crashed, our victory in our contests with the Spanish usually resulted from finally passing the crashing boat. Also on the trip I watched people at a bar play snooker: a game which frankly is so boring it should never have been created. Kayaking was also a great way to see not only the restaurants on the water, but also into the fascinating homes of those who live on the canal-level as well.

Rain

On my way back from class today I stopped to get a sandwich. While I waiting in line I noticed a few small drops of rain, something not unusual to see here. I asked for my sandwich to be bagged in plastic and then headed back to my dorm. Within seconds, not even minutes, the sky opened up and began pouring while I rode back on my bike. I've biked in rain before, so I wasn't particularly worried about a crash, but I'm both unused to so many other bikers going in a multitude of directions around me, and unfamiliar with how cobble stone and brick (the materials other than asphalt that almost all streets here are comprised of) behave when wet. In the end I made it back safely by biking very carefully across the variety of surfaces on my ride, but not without reprisals. My extra time spent riding safely while rain whipped my face and made it difficult to see left me soaked through my jeans to my boxers. It rains pretty hard here.

Putting the "L" in DCL

Today was our first day of the language and seminar classes part of our summer course. Starting off the morning with a language intensive was fun, but a bit taxing. The Dutch language is similar to english, but some of the sounds are a lot more guttural and difficult to emulate. Despite the Dutch and english alphabets being identical, the pronunciations of most letters is almost unrecognizably different from what I'm used to. Though my first taste of Dutch was a bit disheartening, my writing and listening homework wasn't as hard as expected.

Following our language class, we had Pr. Maurits for a seminar about Dutch politics. The political system here is remarkably different from the US, utilizing a similar form of representative constitutional democracy, but with a coalition form of government rather than a two-party system. To add to the differences, the popular "freedom party" is a exclusionary anti-immigrant, anti-muslim party similar to the populists in the US at the turn of the 20th century. There also happens to be a party whose platform is exclusively about animal rights.

After a short break full of manneken pis (literally "little man pee" after the Belgian statue) a delicious Dutch French fry chain, we returned to class for our second seminar. The topic was Dutch ethics, and the lecture discussed the legality of euthanasia, abortion, and prostitution, especially focusing on drugs. As is turns out, even soft drugs are illegal in the Netherlands, but due to Dutch pragmatism, victimless crimes, such as marijuana ingestion, aren't policed. Instead, the Dutch prefer to regulate marijuana through the use of "coffee houses" to prevent exposure to hard drugs and limit the radius of potential harm from the soft ones. The lecture was one of the best I've ever heard.

When the lecture came to a close, we were once again given a small break during which I finally bought a bicycle. I cannot tell you how great it feels to ride a bike again. Though my time with my new friend was cut short because of the need to return to the final part of the days course work, watching the Dutch movie, Simon, the movie turned out to be worth the time apart from my bike.

With another successful day in the books, I'm looking forward to a nice rest before it starts all over again.

Word to the wise

There are about nineteen different drinks here with the name melk (Dutch for milk) on the label. The actual substance of these drinks varies from ordinary varieties of whole, low-fat, and skim milk to yogurt drinks and something with a thick pudding-like consistency (which is actually quite good). Though a carefully read label can reveal quite a lot about a drink, be warned because taking an unexpected swig of yogurt-drink can leave you reeling from the taste and on your way to the nearest waste basket.

There are cats everywhere

Well this may be a bit of an overstatement, but since I've been here, my friends and I have noticed a number of cats around the city including one particular rascal who enjoys sleeping on top of parked cars. During breakfast yesterday, the cat was sleeping on one car when we came in and on an entirely different car across the street when we left.

Posting is becoming difficult

With so much to do each day it's becoming difficult to find the time for long-winded posts. Here's a brief recap of today... I woke up at a reasonable hour because today was my first day of Dutch Culture and Language class. After getting dressed I went to our suite's lounge and boiled water on our hotplate for the oatmeal and tea that I had bought the day before. I'll spare you the details of class. However, outside of our classrooms, which for the record made a far too economical use of space, today was very productive. I now have a Dutch phone (the number for which is +31 0686156565) and a Dutch bank account at ING. We wrapped up the day with a summer school dinner at a Dutch pancake house. If you're wondering about dutch pancakes, apparently some are prepared just as in the US, but from what I experienced, they are between a swedish pancake, a dutch baby, and a crepe with tastes ranging from sweet to savory.

Just as the bipolar weather here began with heavy rain and ended with sun and blue skies, today was filled with ups and downs, but settled into something very nice.

Goat Cheese

For breakfast today I went with some friends to a small bar/cafe right on the edge of a park. The staff of the cafe was friendly and the atmosphere was fairly relaxed. After looking at the menu for a few minutes, we collectively accepted its content was fairly indiscernable and asked for a little help. However, before doing so, I settled on ordering the item with the best name. I wound up with something unexpected, but fantastic: goat cheese sandwiched between two pieces of toast with a honey dipping sauce. Please, if you haven't already begun to do so, go out and buy the ingredients for this.

Sorry for the brief report, but it's late and I have class in the morning. Until tomorrow.

My Arrival Part 3

As soon as I tracked down a grocery store in which to buy my strippen kaart, and did just that, I went down to catch the number eleven bus. Whilst waiting, I met another student from the summer program I was attending. She was odd. We rode the bus to our summer school office and waited in line together to receive our welcome-packets and instructions. Unfortunately my "friend" and I had to part ways at the bus stop to our dorms because she was going to be attending Universiteit Utrecht rather than Universiteit College Utrecht.

On the bus I met another UCU student who I recognized from our orientation meetings at UCSB. We got to talking and missed our stop, but we talked to the bus driver who thankfully was turning around and had him indicate our stop on the way back. The confusion didn't end on the bus. While it was easy for us to navigate our way down Prins Heindricklaan, the street leading to school, when at school, the vague directions given to us regarding our dorms became a real issue. Both fatigued from our long trips, my compatriot and I walked around campus trying to match the letter-number combination from our notes to a building. Our notes indicated that we would be staying at Campusplein, but unfortunately for us, that was marked on every major building and was the name of the field int he middle of campus. After fifteen minutes of desperation, we finally found another student who indicated that the buildings we were by were academic buildings rather than dormitories. We walked until finding a map to guide us and realized that as most customs in Europe are, our letter-number combination was backwards, and the numbers indicated the numbers of each suite in a particular building, while the letters indicated our room within the suite. With this information in mind, we parted ways towards our respective dorms.

Though the walk to the dorm was quick and painless, getting inside was another layer of confusion. Neither of the two keys on our rather bulky fob opened up the front door, leading me to take another couple of laps around the building looking for an alternate entrance. When none was found, I tried again and discovered that the key fob itself was an electronic key that no one had bothered to tell us about. I went in my suite and opened my door. The room was quite spacious and after choosing my bed and exploring my suite, I finally took the opportunity to lay down.

Following my brief rest and unpacking, I took a shower and prepared myself for the event later in the day: a meet and greet. Soon after my shower, I met my new roommate, a fellow UCSB student who I also recognized from our orientation. After he inadvertently set off our fire alarm by walking out of a clearly-marked fire door, I got ready and left with him very early for our event. We successfully bussed back to the main part of the city and with our spare time went exploring.

We walked around for the better part of an hour, getting flicked off after photographing a traveling puppet show (one that you would have to experience to really get the full effect of), and then headed towards our meet and greet.

Time to go out again, more later...

An Aside

I'll be sure to post more about my arrival and my first day in The Netherlands in the coming days, but I'm frankly finding it hard to make extra time to do so. Our time here is full of exploring the city of Utrecht, and hopefully in the future more of Europe. I just returned from picking up most of my necessities and am utilizing my downtime before our group goes out again later to post this and take a much-needed rest.

My Arrival Part 2

...After a relatively nice flight, on which I continued to face the blood-curdling cries of three babies even after moving away from the first one, I landed at Amsterdam International Airport or, as it is undoubtably written in Dutch: Aaaamstër Däame Inteernaatiönaale Aiirpoorte. Whilst there, I swiftly navigated through customs without showing any special documentation, a surprise given that I'll be living in this giant pancake house of a country through the end of the year. Following customs I went to the baggage claim to obtain my obtrusively heavy suitcase.

Though the wait was long, and the complex Dutch instructions at times disheartening, I eventually found my bag and went to by an enkele reis (train ticket). Unfortunately, as they had done so many times before, another line stood between me and-the train I would need to take to the station where I would buy my ticket to the bus I would ride to the church I would obtain the key I would need to unlock the door, but only after riding the other bus,-to freedom. Needless to say, I wasn't out of the fray yet. While in line and influenced by my mothers erroneous words: "you're bound to meet up with some other students attending UCU the closer you get to the program, I struck up a conversation with a group of travelers around my age. As it so happened, and seems to so often happen, my mother was wrong and the group I spoke to revealed themselves as a group of elitest assholes college students from high-ranking US universities around the country, stopping in Amsterdam before attending a summer program at Cambridge. Bypassing the long lines at self check-out, we went to a teller and each got train tickets. As soon as the teller handed me my ticket, I said my goodbyes and parted ways with the group overhearing, as I left, their discussion about how excited they are to go smoke marijuana and how much they do so in college.

I walked downstairs with my bags and my ticket, waiting for the number three train to Utrecht Centraal. Though my guide and the poster on the wall both indicated the train would arrive promptly at fourteen and forty-four minutes past the hour, every hour, it wasn't until fifty minutes after I arrived that an appropriate train materialized. During my wait, while other trains came and went at their leisure, I kindly and innocuously approached a station conductor for his assistance. He snarled at me with a malice only a dutchman could muster, indicated that this wasn't my train, and walked off. The train ride was brief, and soon left me off at Utrecht Centraal, one step closer to my final destination. As soon as I departed the train, I moved towards the bus section of the terminal and made an effort to procure a strippen kaart (a special bus ticket). I looked around to no avail and went to an information desk for help. The line was once again long, and I was only saved from its engrossing pull by another attendant who came to alleviate the growing number of people. When it came time for him to help me, I immediately clarified whether or not he spoke english, to which he replied: "a little." As soon as I heard this, my heart began to sink. Though he did indicate the proper place for me to buy a strippen kaart, the validity of the alleged "fact" that so many had told me, that seventy percent of Dutch people speak english, began to falter. Seventy percent of people in the Netherlands speak Dutch in the same way that everyone in California is fluent in Spanish: knowing yes/no, hello/goodbye does not constitute fluency, it only gives people a reason to get angry when you don't know their language...

Time to sleep, more tomorrow.

My Arrival Part 1

After 22 hours spent waiting for, and riding in planes, trains, and buses I am finally in my dorm in Utrecht. In regards to the travel, the confusion began even before leaving the US. Human assistance with both baggage and check-in at SFO was almost non-existent: when all was said and done, we wasted more than half-an-hour in both correct and incorrect lines waiting for help. After successfully checking-in, the next hurdle to overcome was a seemingly unsurmountable security line stretching all-the-way back to the bag-check lines I had been in before. After the next epoch of line-waiting had elapsed and I was finally through security, my next issue wouldn't arise until the flight to Chicago.

Having escaped the torment of SFO and realizing that I would not have to face the debacle that is the TSA again in the foreseeable future, my spirits were high. Soon after boarding my Chicago-bound flight I acknowledged a growing pressure in my bladder. When I fly, I prefer either the isle seat for easy access, or the window seat for a nice view; in this case I was at the window. The constant flow of people boarding made made it difficult for me to reach a bathroom before we took off, and my problem was only compounded by the arrival of my seat-mates, two elderly men. I resigned myself to wait until take-off for my much-needed relief. Three hours and forty minutes later I sat praying for a quick taxiing. Both of the gentlemen beside me had fallen asleep after turning off their hearing aids. I rushed off the plane as fast as was socially acceptable and finally found relief. While in Chicago I faced few of the scary realities I encountered while at SFO. My only surprise came when my plane boarded earlier than expected.

After getting seated I was greeted by a young mother and her baby who soon sat down next to me. Curious about how I could physically make it out to the aisle past my car seat prison, I decided that the best course of action would be to simply step onto the baby to reach the proper position to vault myself over the mother. Before I had time to act, a flight attendant came by to inform the woman that imprisoning me was against FAA regulations and the baby was granted a reprieve from her fate at the bottom of my shoe. Thanks to a poor global economy, most of the airplanes seats were unoccupied upon take-off and as soon as the "fasten seatbelt" sign turned off I was able to plant a flag in a whole section of seats and claim them for myself. Thanks to plenty of leg-room and seats to spread out onto, I was able to ignore the paucity of available in-flight entertainment...

My illiterate roommate walked out of a fire door and set of the alarm. It has been around twenty-five minutes and still hasn't ceased ringing so I'm just going to leave. More to report later.

All Packed

I am officially all packed up and ready to go. The process of accumulating everything I'll need for the next semester took over a week and the packing itself took hours, but thankfully I made it through with only the loss of mother's sanity on the way. As soon as United's website decides to allow me to print my boarding pass tomorrow morning my trip will begin and I'll be on my way to Utrecht.

Dutch & Flemish Masterworks exhibition at the Palace of the Legion of Honor

In anticipation of my time in The Netherlands, today I took a trip to the Palace of the Legion of Honor to see a traveling exhibition of Dutch and Flemish artwork. A majority of the pieces, excluding the floral paintings, were so astonishingly realistic that from a distance I frequently mistook them photographs despite being painted more than two centuries prior to the development of the daguerreotype. I am looking forward to seeing more Dutch and Flemish artwork in and around the Benelux area during my time in Europe.

Pictures from home

Pre-Departure

In a little less than three days I will be on my way to Utrecht, The Netherlands, where I will be attending school this following year. At the present, I am finishing up the last details of Pre-Departure in preparation for my trip.