Posting has been light around here due to the hectic holiday season and it's about to get lighter still. I'll be returning to the US for two weeks, and I don't expect I'll have much to report on Dutch culture while I'm there. I do hope to find some time to do some language practice, though. The past week or so I've felt as though I'm finally starting to get a grip on some simple conversational Dutch. Hopefully I don't lose all of my hard won progress whilst in my native country.
I guess what I'm saying is, if anyone in Florida wants to get together and spreekt Nederlands met me let me know.
In the meantime, have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Turnover
As the year draws to a close there are a lot of changes happening in the community. Several people in the 'Opstaap' program are moving on. Some are leaving us entirely, for various reasons. Others will still be around, but are moving to more independent housing outside the main house as they continue the process of figuring out their lives. We wish them all the best.
Meanwhile, there are new people coming in. It's funny how people find us. Some of course come in through approved, official channels - they are referred to us by the government or some sort of program or shelter - but it seems that fairly often they just stumble across us. They come in through the window rather than the door, you might say.
A recent example: one night Marco and I were in the kitchen watching a movie on TV when one of the doctors from the Kruispost, the medical clinic in the basement, knocked on the door. She had in tow a patient - a mother with a young boy. While treating the mother for a fever the doctor discovered that the two of them didn't have a place to stay for the night. So she brought them around.
They stayed for a couple of nights while arrangements were made for them and then they left (the mother completely recovered, by the way). And now, a week or two later, they're back to stay for a while! So you can see the way things tend to work around here.
Also in the realm of the unplanned - the sudden turnover around here. There's no rule, as far as I know, that everybody has to be out by the end of the year. That's just the way it has worked out. Hopefully folks are moving on to bigger and better things, getting their lives back together and charting a new course for themselves. And new folks will come in through the doors and windows to replace them.
In the meantime, things are a little bit quieter around here.
On a purely meditative note: it occurred to me yesterday that living in different countries is a really good way to observe the different forms that grace can take. I've experienced faith related work in China, in Haiti, and now in Amsterdam. And it seems as though in each place they experience grace differently.
In China, the grace they need is freedom. Freedom from political oppression and millennia old traditions that have bound that people in servitude. In Haiti, the grace they need is the day-to-day necessities of survival. And here in the Red Light District, a different kind of grace again. A grace to overcome addictions and troubled pasts and all the baggage that life in the modern world can saddle us with.
In each place I've seen radically different people with radically different needs. In spite of this, I believe that the same grace covers all of them. If it looks different from place to place and person to person, that's just because we in our human limitations can only perceive a small part of it at a time.
What a great motivation to travel, though! If we stay at home in our own comfortable spaces we might never get to see all these many other faces of grace. We might think that God worked the same way, every time, for every person. And that would be a tragedy, because my experience of him is that he is so much bigger than that!
Grace is bigger than we are. It's not defined by our limited perspectives. It's wildly different from person to person and from nation to nation. And you can't truly begin to understand that without experiencing it for yourself.
Meanwhile, there are new people coming in. It's funny how people find us. Some of course come in through approved, official channels - they are referred to us by the government or some sort of program or shelter - but it seems that fairly often they just stumble across us. They come in through the window rather than the door, you might say.
A recent example: one night Marco and I were in the kitchen watching a movie on TV when one of the doctors from the Kruispost, the medical clinic in the basement, knocked on the door. She had in tow a patient - a mother with a young boy. While treating the mother for a fever the doctor discovered that the two of them didn't have a place to stay for the night. So she brought them around.
They stayed for a couple of nights while arrangements were made for them and then they left (the mother completely recovered, by the way). And now, a week or two later, they're back to stay for a while! So you can see the way things tend to work around here.
Also in the realm of the unplanned - the sudden turnover around here. There's no rule, as far as I know, that everybody has to be out by the end of the year. That's just the way it has worked out. Hopefully folks are moving on to bigger and better things, getting their lives back together and charting a new course for themselves. And new folks will come in through the doors and windows to replace them.
In the meantime, things are a little bit quieter around here.
On a purely meditative note: it occurred to me yesterday that living in different countries is a really good way to observe the different forms that grace can take. I've experienced faith related work in China, in Haiti, and now in Amsterdam. And it seems as though in each place they experience grace differently.
In China, the grace they need is freedom. Freedom from political oppression and millennia old traditions that have bound that people in servitude. In Haiti, the grace they need is the day-to-day necessities of survival. And here in the Red Light District, a different kind of grace again. A grace to overcome addictions and troubled pasts and all the baggage that life in the modern world can saddle us with.
In each place I've seen radically different people with radically different needs. In spite of this, I believe that the same grace covers all of them. If it looks different from place to place and person to person, that's just because we in our human limitations can only perceive a small part of it at a time.
What a great motivation to travel, though! If we stay at home in our own comfortable spaces we might never get to see all these many other faces of grace. We might think that God worked the same way, every time, for every person. And that would be a tragedy, because my experience of him is that he is so much bigger than that!
Grace is bigger than we are. It's not defined by our limited perspectives. It's wildly different from person to person and from nation to nation. And you can't truly begin to understand that without experiencing it for yourself.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Introducing
I would be remiss if I didn't introduce you to a very important member of the community. A German psychology student currently residing at the house, he was a volunteer last year and lived at the Mission House and this year is very much a part of Oudezijds. He enjoys soccer, is good with children and speaks Dutch and English fluently.
None of these things is what makes him special.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the real Franz Ferdinand.
Yes, that's actually his name. Franz Ferdinand. Like the Archduke. And the band.
Yes, wittingly or unwittingly, his parents certainly set him up for success in life. Who knows what doors of opportunity will swing open to his famous name?
'Ferdinand', as he sometimes goes by when he feels like avoiding the limelight, would like it to be known that his favorite band is actually Interpol.
None of these things is what makes him special.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the real Franz Ferdinand.
Yes, that's actually his name. Franz Ferdinand. Like the Archduke. And the band.
Yes, wittingly or unwittingly, his parents certainly set him up for success in life. Who knows what doors of opportunity will swing open to his famous name?
'Ferdinand', as he sometimes goes by when he feels like avoiding the limelight, would like it to be known that his favorite band is actually Interpol.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Seasons Greetings from The Netherlands, or A Very Politically Incorrect Christmas
Well, Holland is certainly not escaping the early winter that's settling on the rest of the world. It's been hovering around zero on the Celsius for weeks now, and we've seen snow most weekends (although, alas, not enough to do anything with). But that's okay, really, because there's been plenty of holiday cheer to spread around. First there was St. Martin's Day, and now Sinterklaas! Or 'Sint' as he's generally known.
Now, before we go on we need to have a nice, mature discussion about Black Pete. Zwarte Piet is very much a part of the Sinterklaas experience here in the Netherlands. There's actually a bunch of Petes (the exact number has never been determined) and they help St. Nicholas with the messy business of distributing presents to all the deserving kinderen and bagging and carting away the bad ones (yes really!). And they have a couple weeks to do it. It really makes more sense then one fat guy on Christmas Eve, if you think about it!
Oh but of course there's the fact that Black Pete is, well, uh... black.
One story you'll hear a lot is that he got that way from climbing down chimneys. Fine, but that doesn't really explain the big red lips, the large ears often seen in illustrations, the short curly hair, or his general resemblance to a character from a minstrel show. You know what I'm saying?
Every so often I have to stop and giggle and say "This would be so Not Okay in America." Be that as it may, Pete is a generally embraced part of the festivities here, and even the African immigrants here in the community seem not to mind.
So, bearing in mind these key cultural differences, we proceed.
Sint doesn't sneak into town by the dead of night. He arrives by boat on a bright November morning and disembarks before throngs of screaming children. Then he rides a white horse to Dam Square, pictured above in celebratory expectation of this event.
The Petes have formed a live band belting out thumping pop renditions of popular Sinterklaas standbys. One thing you quickly learn about The Petes: they can do anything.
And then, the moment everyone's been waiting for: The former Bishop of Turkey, riding on a white horse!
Don't be fooled by his kindly appearance - he still packs bad kids up in sacks and hauls them off to Spain.
Another black man who can't catch a break. Sorry Darth, everyone's here to see Sint today!I'll stop soon, really, I will.
Here in the community we get in on the fun, too. Anne and Jorine dressed up as Petes to visit the local kindergarten. Yes, Petes can be a bit feminine. Sort of a "Don't Ask Don't Tell" thing.
Jorine's got the bag. Uh oh!
Anne looking jaunty.
Dressing up as Pete is apparently good for one's ego. Everybody says hi and you get to make fun of total strangers.
It's good times, or so I'm told.
Now 5 December is Sint's official last night in town. That night all the hopeful little ones leave a shoe out (probably a wooden one in days of yore) in hopes that some helpful Pete will stuff a present or two into it. Thank God for iPods, yeah?
Here at Oudezijds 100, we have our own visit from Sint and Pete - a gift exchange. Everyone is given a name and then you go out and spend no more than €5 on a gift. For €5 it's going to be a pretty lame gift, but in a Dutch gift exchange the gift isn't really the point. It's all about how you wrap it.
The expectation is that a Dutch present, at minimum, will liberally misrepresent its actual contents. If you're lazy, you might just wrap it twice, but the creative gift giver may incorporate such things false bottoms, empty boxes and misleading shapes into their packages. A poem is then affixed, signed "Sint and Pete" (in a Dutch gift exchange the onus is on the receiver to uncover their 'benefactor'), and the deal is done.
Poor Anne received a screwdriver and a wrapped wooden box, which was fastened with dozens of wood screws, at least three cm in length, that had to be laboriously unscrewed for a half hour. I don't even know what she got.
My favorite 'surprise' though... well, I'll save that for later.
Anyway, we all gathered in the kapitaalzaal and, armed with lots of hot chocolate and pepernoten, awaited the arrival of Sint and Pete.
They came!
Ferdinand proves that grown up kids can get gifts too.
The spread.
But yeah, my favorite gift of the day? Well, it had to be this one:
Well, I don't see how whatever was in the box could be anything but a letdown after the Jesus Action Figure! Ah, well.
That's all the time we have for today kids, but if you're craving more Dutch mirth and merriment, you need to hear David Sedaris' reading his essay on Sinterklaas, entitled "Six to Eight Black Men." It's absolutely hysterical, and it's here, here and here.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Translations
I thought I would post some representative selections from 100 Praatjes, the community's bi-weekly newsletter. These are rough translations done with the aid of BabelFish and then cleaned up with some Anglicized embellishments, so bear with me.
Ahem.
Anne dressed up as Black Pete for a trip to the local kindergarten!
Yours truly was one of the lucky ones to fall under the influence of the dread stomach virus, so I apologize for the dearth of posting around here. Plus, it's just been stinkin' busy.
Poor Meta, who was teased above so mercilessly about unpacking, is actually my own personal Angel of Dutch. She's been a professional Dutch/English translator for a long time, with a comprehensive mastery of both languages. We discovered we enjoy talking about language with each other, and she offered to give me some Dutch lessons!
I can't even describe how helpful this has been. I knew that lessons would be very much preferable to the slow, haphazard way I was picking up the language, but I didn't realize how lost in the forest I was until she appeared between the trees holding a lantern. I've also acquired some more professional learning materials through the generosity of the Mission House, and so I now feel that there's some real direction to my study.
That said, some days progress feels slow! And while I certainly no so much more than when I first arrived here, the truth is that it often seems I'm simply becoming more aware of my total ignorance about this language!
Don't get me wrong, the similarities to English are there. Old English, that is! For any given Dutch word, there seems to be about a 50% chance that you can find its analog in some Engels word that has fallen out of favor since Shakespeare's day. Some words are almost identical: op means 'up', huis means 'house', vader means 'father'. Still more are easily recognizable once you figure out the pronunciation: uit looks quite alien, but in reality it's pronounced identically to 'out', which is what it means.
But, as I said, more words still are just old. For instance, vast means fixed. Doesn't sound like English, huh? But wait. In Nederlands a 'v' sounds a lot like an 'f'. So you can pronounce it 'fast'. Have you ever heard of 'making something fast'? That's an old way of saying, yes, to fix in place. Another example I've noticed is jongen, a word for 'boy'. 'J' in Dutch gets the 'y' treatment, so this winds up sounding a lot like 'young'un', an old-fashioned word if ever there was one.
I could go on, but I'll spare you.
The trick is that Dutch grammar is just as old as its vocabulary and so it can be very Yoda-like.
To give you an idea I've played the traditional auto-translation game with a paragraph of text. I put it through Babelfish in English to Dutch, then translated the resulting Dutch to English. Here's what I got:
If one ignores the garbled word choices (Babel Fish seems to have trouble reading its own writing) you'll note that some weird things are happening with the verbs and the word order. Dutch grammar is very particular about where you put things, but at the same time it's less straightforward than English's subject-verb-whatever structure.
Sigh. Well, they do say it's easier than German*.
I'm by no means conversational in the language, although depending on the subject matter I might be able to get an idea of what's being spoken about. I've also stumbled my way through a couple halting conversations with a three-year-old girl. Specifically, I told her that I eat little girls. At least, I hope that's what I told her. She giggled.
* The Germans I've spoken to deny this.
Ahem.
- A stomach virus or flu has spread throughout the Father House. This just in! You're in good hands!
- Veronica, Charmala and Favourleen are moving soon to #87 across the street.
- Br. Luc stole a mouse from Magi the cat. He quickly put it outside.
- Meta has only three boxes left to unpack in her new flat!
- The Florentinus family has a new puppy, Simson.
- Jorine and Anne have a secret career playing Black Petes.
- Zr. Rosaliene and Br. Sjoerd are expecting a baby! The future little brother or sister of Muriel will be born in May if things go according to plan.
- The engine of Eric Jan's boat was fished from the canal by the fire department, in exchange for three apple pies.
- Do you want to try out the Tom-Toms? Br. Sjoerd is looking for help!
Anne dressed up as Black Pete for a trip to the local kindergarten!Yours truly was one of the lucky ones to fall under the influence of the dread stomach virus, so I apologize for the dearth of posting around here. Plus, it's just been stinkin' busy.
Poor Meta, who was teased above so mercilessly about unpacking, is actually my own personal Angel of Dutch. She's been a professional Dutch/English translator for a long time, with a comprehensive mastery of both languages. We discovered we enjoy talking about language with each other, and she offered to give me some Dutch lessons!
I can't even describe how helpful this has been. I knew that lessons would be very much preferable to the slow, haphazard way I was picking up the language, but I didn't realize how lost in the forest I was until she appeared between the trees holding a lantern. I've also acquired some more professional learning materials through the generosity of the Mission House, and so I now feel that there's some real direction to my study.
That said, some days progress feels slow! And while I certainly no so much more than when I first arrived here, the truth is that it often seems I'm simply becoming more aware of my total ignorance about this language!
Don't get me wrong, the similarities to English are there. Old English, that is! For any given Dutch word, there seems to be about a 50% chance that you can find its analog in some Engels word that has fallen out of favor since Shakespeare's day. Some words are almost identical: op means 'up', huis means 'house', vader means 'father'. Still more are easily recognizable once you figure out the pronunciation: uit looks quite alien, but in reality it's pronounced identically to 'out', which is what it means.
But, as I said, more words still are just old. For instance, vast means fixed. Doesn't sound like English, huh? But wait. In Nederlands a 'v' sounds a lot like an 'f'. So you can pronounce it 'fast'. Have you ever heard of 'making something fast'? That's an old way of saying, yes, to fix in place. Another example I've noticed is jongen, a word for 'boy'. 'J' in Dutch gets the 'y' treatment, so this winds up sounding a lot like 'young'un', an old-fashioned word if ever there was one.
I could go on, but I'll spare you.
The trick is that Dutch grammar is just as old as its vocabulary and so it can be very Yoda-like.
To give you an idea I've played the traditional auto-translation game with a paragraph of text. I put it through Babelfish in English to Dutch, then translated the resulting Dutch to English. Here's what I got:
Last night I did the bread run. I road to the bakery on my bike and picked up a bag of the day's left over bread. Then I pedaled home across the canals with a bag of bread balanced carefully on the rear of my bike. I felt very European!
Last night did I the bread course. I gone taken to bakery on my bicycle and a pocket of day's leave concerning bread. Then pedaled I house concerning the canals with a pocket bread carefully balanced on the after part of my bicycle. I felt very European!
If one ignores the garbled word choices (Babel Fish seems to have trouble reading its own writing) you'll note that some weird things are happening with the verbs and the word order. Dutch grammar is very particular about where you put things, but at the same time it's less straightforward than English's subject-verb-whatever structure.
Sigh. Well, they do say it's easier than German*.
I'm by no means conversational in the language, although depending on the subject matter I might be able to get an idea of what's being spoken about. I've also stumbled my way through a couple halting conversations with a three-year-old girl. Specifically, I told her that I eat little girls. At least, I hope that's what I told her. She giggled.
* The Germans I've spoken to deny this.
Friday, November 28, 2008
On the Oddity of Dutch Surnames
Via Mental_floss:
I don't know if anyone in the community has such an inspired achternaam. I'll have to ask around.
I do know that my last name, while rather common and dull in the US, is considered to be quite posh here. In Dutch the name is rendered as Brujin and indeed that is the name of one of the families here. Indeed, they seem to have taken me to heart as a long lost cousin.
When Napoleon seized the Netherlands in 1810, he demanded that all Dutchmen take last names, just as the French had done decades prior. Problem was, the Dutch had lived full and happy lives with single names, so they took absurd surnames in a show of spirited defiance. These included Naaktgeboren (born naked), Spring int Veld (jump in the field), and Piest (pisses). Unfortunately for their descendants, Napoleon’s last-name trend stuck, and all of these remain perfectly normal Dutch names today.Hahah nice! In fact, though, this is not the first time I'd heard this story. A blogger named Steve Den Beste told a similar story about his name a few years back:
A lot of people ask me about my surname. There's an interesting story behind it.The point being that names are serious business. Even if you're Dutch.
It doesn't go back very far, actually. Because there's no aristocracy in the US, people like to pretend that they're descended from the nobility in Europe. (In actual practice, for most of them if they actually had an honest crest at all, it would bear the bar sinister!)
Not me. My ancestry is Dutch (Frisian) and I come from a long line of farmers and pirates. My ancestry is strictly common, and historically the commoners in Frisia didn't have surnames. Only the nobles had surnames; the rest of us were named things like "Johann with the twisted lip" or "Blue-eyed Hans".
Until, that is, the French invaded the place and ran it during the Napoleonic wars for about 7 years. Now Napoleon was really big on taxing the provinces so he could keep the taxes back in France low. The countries he conquered all had to pony up bigtime to pay him for the privilege of having been conquered by him. So the French called everyone in the Netherlands in and required them to pick surnames, I assume so that an accurate census could be made, so that they could tax the place better.
Well! Surnames for commoners! What a stupid idea! And it's these silly French invaders making us do this. They've got all the guns, but they can't make us take it seriously, now can they?
So a bunch of the people made up facetious or otherwise strange names. What they didn't expect was that after the war, when the French were kicked back out again, that the Dutch government would keep those names for everyone.
There are a number of people living in the Netherlands whose surname is Poepjes, which translated into English means "little pieces of shit".
My paternal ancestor was also a smartass, but at least he had better taste. My surname means "The Best" in not only Dutch but also in several Scandanavian languages which are in the Germanic group.
I kind of like the idea of being descended from a smartass.
I don't know if anyone in the community has such an inspired achternaam. I'll have to ask around.
I do know that my last name, while rather common and dull in the US, is considered to be quite posh here. In Dutch the name is rendered as Brujin and indeed that is the name of one of the families here. Indeed, they seem to have taken me to heart as a long lost cousin.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Fall
Sinterklaas's arrival is nearly upon us, but we've already had a holiday with a distinctly Dutch flavor: St. Martin's Day.
Now from what I understand, St. Martin's Day is not celebrated equally in every part of the country. It's kind of a protestant thing, and so the southern parts of the Netherlands where Catholicism predominates doesn't really get into it. But it cosmopolitan Amsterdam it is definitely celebrated.
The first and most exciting part of the evening (to those of us who aren't kinderen) is pannekoeken. That's Nederlands for 'pancakes', in case you hadn't picked up on that.
Plates heaped with pancakes were brought to the table. The Dutch way to eat pancakes is to cover them in powdered sugar, jelly, or stroop (A sort of thick syrup. It's not exactly maple syrup, and it's not exactly NOT maple syrup. Either way it's yummy.). Then you roll them up and eat them with a fork.
Some pannekoeken may also have cheese or ham baked into them. Both are delicious. The whole affair is basically one big salute to culinary hedonism.
I was somewhat bemused when they served dessert.
I didn't participate in the next part of the festivities, but I did snap some pictures. The kinderen parade through the streets with lanterns and go door to door asking for candy. The kids may also dress up in costume. Yeah, it's kind of like Halloween, but who stole what from who depends on who you ask. I will note that the Wikipedia page says nothing about 'dressing up'.
In this neighborhood the kids don't actually go door to door. But OZ 100 is big enough that they make several stops at the main house alone. The adults escort them to friendly doors in the neighborhood.
The end result is candy. In case someone hadn't had enough sugar that evening!
The lanterns are mostly constructed by the kinderen with a generous portion of help from grown-ups. They buy little lights hanging from sticks that you put inside.
That was Tuesday. Today is a cold, gray day, but that didn't stop Anne and I from exercising our Museum Cards. Today we went to the Jewish Museum, which we got into for FREE NINETY-NINE. Sweet. But on the way I thought I would snap some shots of the buurt (e.g. the neighborhood).
And this is Oudezijds 100. Well, I've cut off a bit of the building on the right, but you get the idea. The windows at basement level are for the kitchen, and are a convenient way for passing tourists to stare in in surprise around dinner time.
Jorene and Eric kick back and enjoy the warm morning (which lasted, I believe, for about five minutes).
The window girls don't appreciate being photographed, but they aren't out and about until late morning. These ARE actual windows, although Anne is not an actual window girl.
Waterlooplein! Hosts a thriving market where you can get, among other things, clothes. The prices are quite reasonable, and occasionally you can even talk them down. There are also 'snack stands'. I tried yet another burger at one, but once more I get some sort of wurst between two buns. What's up with that? Well, it was better then the one on Damstraat.
And this is New Market. It's only a block over from the District, but it has much nicer cafes. In spite of being called "New Market," it's a fairly small market and sells only only flowers. That big castle thing in the background was once a weighing house for merchant goods.
A gray day in Amsterdam. It's windy. The leaves lie in drifts along the sidewalk and the trees have skeletal reflections in the canal. But it's still a beautiful city. And sometimes? The sun even comes out.
Now from what I understand, St. Martin's Day is not celebrated equally in every part of the country. It's kind of a protestant thing, and so the southern parts of the Netherlands where Catholicism predominates doesn't really get into it. But it cosmopolitan Amsterdam it is definitely celebrated.
The first and most exciting part of the evening (to those of us who aren't kinderen) is pannekoeken. That's Nederlands for 'pancakes', in case you hadn't picked up on that.
Plates heaped with pancakes were brought to the table. The Dutch way to eat pancakes is to cover them in powdered sugar, jelly, or stroop (A sort of thick syrup. It's not exactly maple syrup, and it's not exactly NOT maple syrup. Either way it's yummy.). Then you roll them up and eat them with a fork.
Some pannekoeken may also have cheese or ham baked into them. Both are delicious. The whole affair is basically one big salute to culinary hedonism.
I was somewhat bemused when they served dessert.
I didn't participate in the next part of the festivities, but I did snap some pictures. The kinderen parade through the streets with lanterns and go door to door asking for candy. The kids may also dress up in costume. Yeah, it's kind of like Halloween, but who stole what from who depends on who you ask. I will note that the Wikipedia page says nothing about 'dressing up'.
In this neighborhood the kids don't actually go door to door. But OZ 100 is big enough that they make several stops at the main house alone. The adults escort them to friendly doors in the neighborhood.
The end result is candy. In case someone hadn't had enough sugar that evening!
The lanterns are mostly constructed by the kinderen with a generous portion of help from grown-ups. They buy little lights hanging from sticks that you put inside.
That was Tuesday. Today is a cold, gray day, but that didn't stop Anne and I from exercising our Museum Cards. Today we went to the Jewish Museum, which we got into for FREE NINETY-NINE. Sweet. But on the way I thought I would snap some shots of the buurt (e.g. the neighborhood).
And this is Oudezijds 100. Well, I've cut off a bit of the building on the right, but you get the idea. The windows at basement level are for the kitchen, and are a convenient way for passing tourists to stare in in surprise around dinner time.
Jorene and Eric kick back and enjoy the warm morning (which lasted, I believe, for about five minutes).
The window girls don't appreciate being photographed, but they aren't out and about until late morning. These ARE actual windows, although Anne is not an actual window girl.
Waterlooplein! Hosts a thriving market where you can get, among other things, clothes. The prices are quite reasonable, and occasionally you can even talk them down. There are also 'snack stands'. I tried yet another burger at one, but once more I get some sort of wurst between two buns. What's up with that? Well, it was better then the one on Damstraat.
And this is New Market. It's only a block over from the District, but it has much nicer cafes. In spite of being called "New Market," it's a fairly small market and sells only only flowers. That big castle thing in the background was once a weighing house for merchant goods.
A gray day in Amsterdam. It's windy. The leaves lie in drifts along the sidewalk and the trees have skeletal reflections in the canal. But it's still a beautiful city. And sometimes? The sun even comes out.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
shaken not fried
If anyone knows where you can get a decent burger in this town, please let me know. I can tell you that it's not the "American Cafe: Meat and Drink" off Damstraat. Total false advertising. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are beverages involved, as well as some sort of meat. It's the 'American' bit that they need to scratch from the record. I don't know what they do to those patties but it doesn't involve any New World techniques, I can assure you.
Well, the vendor just down the street still sells delicious french fries, at least.
Well, the vendor just down the street still sells delicious french fries, at least.
Monday, November 10, 2008
bikes and castles
It's raining now. Back to the usual Autumnal Amsterdam weather. But this weekend we had a couple of glorious days. The sun showed his face and thinks perked up considerably around here. We even took a bike trip!
Saturday we decided that we would bike out to the village of Muiden (pronounced, roughly, Moy-den). So we saddled up our horses and hit the road.
It actually was a great day for riding, but it was quite windy. Well, that's Holland for you.
Our merry crew was comprised of Margreet, Marco, Anne (my counterpart - the other year-long volunteer, this time from Germany) and Hans.
Taking their biking obsession to its natural extreme, the Dutch have built this, the longest bike bridge in Europe, across the Amstel river.
Anne actually snapped most of these shots, so credit where credit is due. Here we are riding along a wide open landscape of hills and water. According to Hans, an authority on local history, most of this land is artificial.
Part of the reason Hans knows the area- that house in the middle used to be his.
But, you want to see castles. Okay!
Muiden is named after Muiden Castle, which is one of the largest in the country. The Netherlands actually doesn't have so many castles compared to, say, Germany, but this is a nice, large, picturesque one.
You had to buy tickets. Anne and I both procured Museum Cards, which should allow us discounted access to a lot of local museums in the future. I'm pretty excited about that. In the meantime, Marco and I posed for a photo op.
Marco is German, but grew up a Missionary Kid. He's spent some time in both Americas, and speaks English with a flawless American accent. He also digs some classic American films, so he's got a lot going for him in addition to the beard. If you haven't noticed it already, I've got a link to his blog over there on the right.
Inside the castle you find pretty much everything you'd hope for - a courtyard, a dungeon, suits of armor, and lots and lots and lots of stairs.
You'll also find at least one thing you didn't expect - video games?!?
Yep, there are several interactive video games in the castle. Most of them involve flinging boulders, flaming arrows and swords at wicked castle invaders, rendered to look like figures from medieval tapestries.
But what you really have to hear, and what I sadly cannot produce here, are the sound effects - the 'eeks' and 'ahhs!' as yet another invader is squashed, sliced, or sent hurtling into the moat.
Oh, that reminds me, someone had put shark fins in the moat. The local historical society certainly has a theatrical touch.
We couldn't stay long. Evening comes quickly at this latitude. We clambered back onto our fiets and took what was supposedly a more direct route. We passed through the center of Muiden village as we did so, and I really wish we had paused to snap some photos because it was rather picturesque.
Even so, by the time we found our way back into the outskirts of the city, it was getting pretty dark. The problem was that while all of our bikes had the mandatory lights - few of them worked. Mine, for instance, which I had ridden to a party near Museumplein the night before with a functional headlight, had gone dark and could not be revived.
Technically you can get fined for biking without a light, so we were on the alert for cops. Before very long a passing biker warned Margreet that there were some ahead. We dismounted, but saw no sign of them. We were just about to get back on when we spotted them - walking right toward us! Hans lead us down a sidestreet which lead more or less in the right direction, but they turned the corner and followed us!
At that moment we paused so that Magreet could use her cellphone. As we stood around casually on the darkened street corner, leaning on our bikes, the three police ambled past. They said nothing. They weren't long gone before we were back on our bikes, heading in the correct direction, pedaling for all we were worth.
I'm not sure exactly how far we went, but we put in probably three hours steady biking total, and at good speed too. Maybe about 30 km total?
Not too shabby.
Saturday we decided that we would bike out to the village of Muiden (pronounced, roughly, Moy-den). So we saddled up our horses and hit the road.
It actually was a great day for riding, but it was quite windy. Well, that's Holland for you.
Our merry crew was comprised of Margreet, Marco, Anne (my counterpart - the other year-long volunteer, this time from Germany) and Hans.
Taking their biking obsession to its natural extreme, the Dutch have built this, the longest bike bridge in Europe, across the Amstel river.
Anne actually snapped most of these shots, so credit where credit is due. Here we are riding along a wide open landscape of hills and water. According to Hans, an authority on local history, most of this land is artificial.
Part of the reason Hans knows the area- that house in the middle used to be his.
But, you want to see castles. Okay!
Muiden is named after Muiden Castle, which is one of the largest in the country. The Netherlands actually doesn't have so many castles compared to, say, Germany, but this is a nice, large, picturesque one.
You had to buy tickets. Anne and I both procured Museum Cards, which should allow us discounted access to a lot of local museums in the future. I'm pretty excited about that. In the meantime, Marco and I posed for a photo op.
Marco is German, but grew up a Missionary Kid. He's spent some time in both Americas, and speaks English with a flawless American accent. He also digs some classic American films, so he's got a lot going for him in addition to the beard. If you haven't noticed it already, I've got a link to his blog over there on the right.
Inside the castle you find pretty much everything you'd hope for - a courtyard, a dungeon, suits of armor, and lots and lots and lots of stairs.
You'll also find at least one thing you didn't expect - video games?!?
Yep, there are several interactive video games in the castle. Most of them involve flinging boulders, flaming arrows and swords at wicked castle invaders, rendered to look like figures from medieval tapestries.
But what you really have to hear, and what I sadly cannot produce here, are the sound effects - the 'eeks' and 'ahhs!' as yet another invader is squashed, sliced, or sent hurtling into the moat.
Oh, that reminds me, someone had put shark fins in the moat. The local historical society certainly has a theatrical touch.
We couldn't stay long. Evening comes quickly at this latitude. We clambered back onto our fiets and took what was supposedly a more direct route. We passed through the center of Muiden village as we did so, and I really wish we had paused to snap some photos because it was rather picturesque.
Even so, by the time we found our way back into the outskirts of the city, it was getting pretty dark. The problem was that while all of our bikes had the mandatory lights - few of them worked. Mine, for instance, which I had ridden to a party near Museumplein the night before with a functional headlight, had gone dark and could not be revived.
Technically you can get fined for biking without a light, so we were on the alert for cops. Before very long a passing biker warned Margreet that there were some ahead. We dismounted, but saw no sign of them. We were just about to get back on when we spotted them - walking right toward us! Hans lead us down a sidestreet which lead more or less in the right direction, but they turned the corner and followed us!
At that moment we paused so that Magreet could use her cellphone. As we stood around casually on the darkened street corner, leaning on our bikes, the three police ambled past. They said nothing. They weren't long gone before we were back on our bikes, heading in the correct direction, pedaling for all we were worth.
I'm not sure exactly how far we went, but we put in probably three hours steady biking total, and at good speed too. Maybe about 30 km total?
Not too shabby.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Amsterdam Questions Answered
I thought I'd tackle a couple of questions that some commentors have posed. The answers aren't short, but they do involve pictures, so stick with me!
First of all, my dad asks whether I've felt acceptance as an American living in Europe.
Well, let's just say that so far I haven't felt it necessary to pose as a Canadian. The Dutch at least don't seem to harbor any special antipathy towards Americans. Actually it never ceases to amaze me how curious people are about American political processes, so the revelation of my nationality usually leads to questions about how I voted, who I think is going to win, and differences between forms of governments (the Dutch have adopted the typical European parliamentary model of government and also have a constitutional monarchy).
If the Dutch harbor any nationalistic antipathies, they seem to be reserved for the Germans and the British. It probably goes without saying that their friendly rivalry with the Germans is a result of that little misunderstanding back in 1940. And the British? Well, since their main contribution to Dutch culture is endless waves of drunken tourists, you can see how even unfailingly affable Nederlanders might get a little annoyed.
Patrick was curious about chapel and I am now in a position to offer up more information on that as well. And I have pictures. So, buckle up!
There is morning and evening chapel every day but Sunday. Attendance is not mandatory, but encouraged. Services are conducted in Dutch unless there are an unusual number of English speakers present. The brothers and sisters and people deeply involved with the community take it in turns to lead the services.
We usually start with a little bit of liturgy, then a hymn is sung. Then there is silent prayer to prepare our hearts for God. After this another song may be sung. There is a reading from a pre-selected passage of the Bible, sometimes prefaced by a short explanation. After this there is usually a moment to meditate on what we have heard. Sometimes the leader will then give a brief message based off the scripture. There is more prayer, and then another, relevant song. Sometimes the prayer may involve more liturgy. At the end we all recite the Lord's Prayer together, a community member blesses us, and then it's time for tea!
OZ 100 is an ecumenical community, which means we don't subscribe particularly to one denomination. Our kapel reflects this. It contains imagery and icons that will be familiar to Catholics, Lutherans, Eastern Orthodox and other sects. And virtually every part of the chapel is mobile, so it can be rearranged to accommodate a number of types of services.
(Incidentally, I apologize in advance for the quality of the pics. I was forced to use the flash to snap shots of the chapel, and it somewhat ruins the quiet, muted atmosphere that it actually has.)
The backdrop you see above is actually movable. The imagery on it will be familiar to Roman Catholics and Orthodox worshipers. In the case of the latter, the frame may be moved in front of our little altar to create a 'holy sanctum'.
Wooden benches line the walls, and there are stools. All are lightweight and can be easily rearranged. For ourselves, we typically sit in a circle around the room and the leader does not occupy a special place unless he or she gets up to read.
Virtually everything in the kapel has some symbolic value. This includes the floor, which spreads outward in concentric rings to include even the outside world. The pink neon lights of Cafe Rosso are right outside the doors, and in the evening service we are vividly reminded of their inclusion by the noise of the people queued up there.
I'm told the item above makes Lutherans feel at home, although it's a bit foreign to me personally.
I was surprised to learn that in addition to providing a lovely ambiance, the little stream and pool at the back of the room can be used as a baptismal. Whether you are into full or partial immersion, there are sections of the "Jordan River" that you can use for your service. The little pool just above the falls is just right for infants, and the large pool is bigger than a bathtub and can comfortably receive adults.
This is a picture of some of our worship materials. "Youth for Christ" is a popular songbook, as is Taizé (not pictured) which contains songs in virtually every language you're likely to encounter in Europe. The folder contains copies of still more songs, as well as liturgy.
Dutch service or not, many of the songs are actually in English, which is nice for me. However, I am seldom familiar with any of them.
The service concluded, we adjourn to the common room for a little gezelligheid. Time fortea coffee!
First of all, my dad asks whether I've felt acceptance as an American living in Europe.
Well, let's just say that so far I haven't felt it necessary to pose as a Canadian. The Dutch at least don't seem to harbor any special antipathy towards Americans. Actually it never ceases to amaze me how curious people are about American political processes, so the revelation of my nationality usually leads to questions about how I voted, who I think is going to win, and differences between forms of governments (the Dutch have adopted the typical European parliamentary model of government and also have a constitutional monarchy).
If the Dutch harbor any nationalistic antipathies, they seem to be reserved for the Germans and the British. It probably goes without saying that their friendly rivalry with the Germans is a result of that little misunderstanding back in 1940. And the British? Well, since their main contribution to Dutch culture is endless waves of drunken tourists, you can see how even unfailingly affable Nederlanders might get a little annoyed.
Patrick was curious about chapel and I am now in a position to offer up more information on that as well. And I have pictures. So, buckle up!
There is morning and evening chapel every day but Sunday. Attendance is not mandatory, but encouraged. Services are conducted in Dutch unless there are an unusual number of English speakers present. The brothers and sisters and people deeply involved with the community take it in turns to lead the services.
We usually start with a little bit of liturgy, then a hymn is sung. Then there is silent prayer to prepare our hearts for God. After this another song may be sung. There is a reading from a pre-selected passage of the Bible, sometimes prefaced by a short explanation. After this there is usually a moment to meditate on what we have heard. Sometimes the leader will then give a brief message based off the scripture. There is more prayer, and then another, relevant song. Sometimes the prayer may involve more liturgy. At the end we all recite the Lord's Prayer together, a community member blesses us, and then it's time for tea!
OZ 100 is an ecumenical community, which means we don't subscribe particularly to one denomination. Our kapel reflects this. It contains imagery and icons that will be familiar to Catholics, Lutherans, Eastern Orthodox and other sects. And virtually every part of the chapel is mobile, so it can be rearranged to accommodate a number of types of services.
(Incidentally, I apologize in advance for the quality of the pics. I was forced to use the flash to snap shots of the chapel, and it somewhat ruins the quiet, muted atmosphere that it actually has.)
The backdrop you see above is actually movable. The imagery on it will be familiar to Roman Catholics and Orthodox worshipers. In the case of the latter, the frame may be moved in front of our little altar to create a 'holy sanctum'.
Wooden benches line the walls, and there are stools. All are lightweight and can be easily rearranged. For ourselves, we typically sit in a circle around the room and the leader does not occupy a special place unless he or she gets up to read.
Virtually everything in the kapel has some symbolic value. This includes the floor, which spreads outward in concentric rings to include even the outside world. The pink neon lights of Cafe Rosso are right outside the doors, and in the evening service we are vividly reminded of their inclusion by the noise of the people queued up there.
I'm told the item above makes Lutherans feel at home, although it's a bit foreign to me personally.
I was surprised to learn that in addition to providing a lovely ambiance, the little stream and pool at the back of the room can be used as a baptismal. Whether you are into full or partial immersion, there are sections of the "Jordan River" that you can use for your service. The little pool just above the falls is just right for infants, and the large pool is bigger than a bathtub and can comfortably receive adults.
This is a picture of some of our worship materials. "Youth for Christ" is a popular songbook, as is Taizé (not pictured) which contains songs in virtually every language you're likely to encounter in Europe. The folder contains copies of still more songs, as well as liturgy.
Dutch service or not, many of the songs are actually in English, which is nice for me. However, I am seldom familiar with any of them.
The service concluded, we adjourn to the common room for a little gezelligheid. Time for
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Like Fries With That?
OZ100 owns and operates a farm in Friesland, in the north of the Netherlands. The founders of the community live there, as do others who for whatever reason seek a more peaceful and isolated setting. Friesland is considered by Nederlanders to be quite different from the rest of the country. As a matter of fact they have their own distinct Germanic language.
Alas, I didn't have much opportunity to interact with native Frisians. This weekend was the annual ceremony where the 'inner circle' renew their lifetime vows. Usually it is held in Amsterdam but the people on the farm had asked that we do it there. So we packed up virtually the entire household, stuffed them into minibuses, and ferried them two hours north to the farm.
Well, the weekend was pleasant enough, but rather than go into great detail, I have pictures. Yes, pictures! Worth a thousand words, or so I hope. Well, this camera is only rated for about 750 words per image, but hopefully you'll get the idea.
Part of one of the farmhouses we were staying in. Surrounded on all sides by grass and muddy ditches.
And cows!
Inside our farmhouse is a huge open room with lofts on both sides and small rooms partitioned off beneath the lofts. The inside ceiling, curiously enough, is thatched.
Looking down on the main room from the loft.
The loft where the boys slept. Note the slanted part of the ceiling.
Two Larissas at breakfast. Big Larissa there on the right is from Russia. Little Larissa is the little black girl seated back right, if you can make her out.
More outside pics. This is a view of the 'driveway' to the farmhouse.
More cows! I believe they outnumbered us humans by a healthy margin, but they seemed non-threatening.
This fellow was a bit more threatening. That's why he's kept on a chain.
There's also the cutest little pony you ever laid eyes on. She wandered right up to me while I was trying to get a picture. I felt really bad because immediately after I snapped this the flash sent her bolting.
Assorted Oudezijds children. Oh sure they look cute...
In other news, Brenda is another transplanted English speaker living in the house (she's Canadian, but we won't hold that against her). She's a bit further along in her Dutch than I am, but she's documented some common sources of confusion between our two languages on her blog.
Alas, I didn't have much opportunity to interact with native Frisians. This weekend was the annual ceremony where the 'inner circle' renew their lifetime vows. Usually it is held in Amsterdam but the people on the farm had asked that we do it there. So we packed up virtually the entire household, stuffed them into minibuses, and ferried them two hours north to the farm.
Well, the weekend was pleasant enough, but rather than go into great detail, I have pictures. Yes, pictures! Worth a thousand words, or so I hope. Well, this camera is only rated for about 750 words per image, but hopefully you'll get the idea.
Part of one of the farmhouses we were staying in. Surrounded on all sides by grass and muddy ditches.
And cows!
Inside our farmhouse is a huge open room with lofts on both sides and small rooms partitioned off beneath the lofts. The inside ceiling, curiously enough, is thatched.
Looking down on the main room from the loft.
The loft where the boys slept. Note the slanted part of the ceiling.
Two Larissas at breakfast. Big Larissa there on the right is from Russia. Little Larissa is the little black girl seated back right, if you can make her out.
More outside pics. This is a view of the 'driveway' to the farmhouse.
More cows! I believe they outnumbered us humans by a healthy margin, but they seemed non-threatening.
This fellow was a bit more threatening. That's why he's kept on a chain.
There's also the cutest little pony you ever laid eyes on. She wandered right up to me while I was trying to get a picture. I felt really bad because immediately after I snapped this the flash sent her bolting.
Assorted Oudezijds children. Oh sure they look cute...
In other news, Brenda is another transplanted English speaker living in the house (she's Canadian, but we won't hold that against her). She's a bit further along in her Dutch than I am, but she's documented some common sources of confusion between our two languages on her blog.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)