Movin' In

My phantom roommate never showed up last night so I had a hostel room to myself. Sadly, after all the hospitality shown me by Jeanette and the StayOK staff, I left StayOK and moved into my apartment. It is right next to the Central train station which will be convenient for taking the tram and exploring Europe. The apartment is surprisingly nice. My “bedroom” is more like a closet and may end up being losing its job to the futon that sits in the living room. I have internet access and a television with several channels including CNN and MTV. I will be able to keep up with the RNC to see if McCain can capitalize on the DNC’s lackluster performance. I am also interested in his Vice President. I suppose everyone is since she has no public history. Just in case you were wondering, the Europeans love Obama and don’t understand why we don’t skip the election and name him king. I think that’s how they do it over here.

Betty was gracious enough to meet me again and show me the town. I had already seen most of it but she explained exactly what I had seen. She also taught me how to use the tram. It was like the first time you jump into the water in the spring. You know it is going to be cold but that once you get in everything will be fine yet you sit on the edge of the boat and fret over those first few moments. The tram isn’t really all that hard except you have to know how far you are going before you board. It’s not like every subway in America where you pay two dollars and go as far as you want. You have to pay for how many “zones” you are going to travel and you do so by stamping a long ticket with perforated slips on it. It looks like those labels that you get when you buy dividers for a binder. You know the ones that you put in the plastic tabs so you can mark each section. It looks like that but each one is numbered. This may sound confusing. It is. I am not entirely sure how to use it. Cross your fingers that I don’t end up in Dutch jail tomorrow for improper tram riding.

Tomorrow is my first day at the ICTY. I’m ready to get in a routine. Cheers.

American Betty

I had drinks with American Betty tonight. She was out with her girlfriends who are also Nannies (au pair in expat talk). Mel is from New Zealand and Abbey is from Australia by way of London. All three were gracious hosts. I tried to find the Gator game but it looks like I will have to miss the regular season. No one seems to know where I can find an American bar that plays American football. In fact, while asking around town I got responses like, “are you looking for baseball?” and “no American sports here”. Most of the bartenders do not know what American football is. Abbey says it’s confusing since Europeans call soccer, football and Australian’s call Australian Rules Football, football. She suggested calling “our” football, gridiron. I like it. I’m gonna steal it.

When I got back to the hostel there was a note from my roommate. “Roommate, I will be out quite late tonight but will try to be quiet when I come in. Cheers.” I hope he doesn’t breathe like a gay Darth Vader.

Apartment

I move into my apartment tomorrow so I went looking for it. It is right next to the central train station which will prove useful for trips to Paris and the like. I also walked to my work which is a mile or so away. The Dutch think a mile is an eternity. If you ask where something is located they might say, “Oh, it is far, maybe like ten minutes walk.” I walked from one end of the city to the other in an hour, not knowing where I was going and strolling very slowly. It would take about three weeks to do the same thing in Jacksonville. I’m going to meet with an American friend of a friend for drinks tonight.

Den Haag

The Hague is a different place. It is only 45 minutes from Amsterdam by train but they are quite different in atmosphere. The Hague is a very modern city. Some historic buildings still exist but much of the city is populated with modern buildings and amenities. I am staying at the StayOk hostel. I got into The Hague on a Friday morning an set about finding this hostel because it was recommended by Ronnie’s angel of a wife. It took about an hour to walk from the train station to the hostel because: 1) I didn’t know where I was going and 2) my backpack contains three months worth of stuff. I would later discover that it is about a ten minute walk from the station and that I walked the wrong way but this is the story of my life. StayOk is a network of hostels exclusively in Holland and they are amazing. It only costs 29 Euro a night. After checking in I walked around the town for a bit before calling it a night. Homeboy on the bunk under me was about four hundred pounds and snored like a polar bear. I knew I was in trouble because he breathed like a gay Darth Vader. It took him about thirty minutes (rough estimate) to start snoring but once he did he made up for lost time. I’m pretty sure the bed was shaking. I was too tired (lazy) to get down and wake him so I just endured it for an hour or so. He finally stopped snoring or left and I got some rest. I woke at 7:30 and was thrilled to find that the StayOk had vacancy for one more night. This time I get a room with just one bunk bed for a maximum of one other roommate.

Peeosk

The Dutch do many things better than us. My first impression of Holland was the airport in Amsterdam. They have a toilet seat cleaner/disinfectant dispenser above the toilet. In The Hague I saw a kiosk with four walls that meet in the middle. You just walk up to the kiosk, pull out your junk and urinate in a hole. Why do we not have these in America?

One thing they do not do well is tell jokes. It’s not as if something is lost in translation because they all learn English by watching American films and most of them speak the language very well. The train ticket attendant pointed behind me and said, “Look at them in the queue.” He was right. There were in fact people standing in line to get tickets. Apparently this is an abnormal sight to a Dutch train ticket guy.

Amsterdam is an interesting place. It is smaller than I thought. Its winding canals and carefree attitude are indeed charming but, as with many tourist hot spots, the number of visitors can wear on you a little. I was fortunate to find a place called “Café Zool”. I would later learn that it is recommended in the Let’s Go to Western Europe guide.

I never got the names of the Americans who were sitting outside of the café. I underestimated the man. He seemed timid and uninteresting. His wife was the interesting one, Irish and vibrant. As I opened them up I learned that he was far from boring. Dude is a cartoonist/musician/dental prosthetic technician at Creighton University which is apparently in Omaha. I’ve never been to Omaha but I just met Nebraskans in Amsterdam.

I was hesitant to talk to this couple because while I knew they were American, I did not want to interrupt them. They seemed to be self absorbed, much the way Jami and I can be at a bar. She looked younger than him. He would later say that he is 60 and I would put her at about 50. The three of us talked for about 45 minutes before we engaged another American sitting to my right. She is from Tarpon Springs and now works as a “law enforcement liaison” at the U.S. embassy in Bulgaria. Surprisingly, she does not know Cuyler. They were all interesting people and are appropriately pictured to the right.

Café Zool’s proprietor is a man named, Ronnie. He and his wife run the bar which offers free wifi and some ridiculous number of tequilas and absinthe. I had a Belgian beer that was 11% alcohol. You could actually taste the alcohol, much like drinking whiskey. I drank it like a glass of wine. It took about an hour to finish a beer. Ronnie gave me an education in all things Amsterdam. Ronnie is everything I could have wanted from the Dutch. He is friendly, well traveled, and obsessed with football. He and his wife (whose name escapes me but I think is, Laura) eloped to Vegas. She is a flight attendant. While visiting L.A. she got the idea that it would be nice if they got married in Vegas. She called Ronnie and he agreed, in Dutch.

Ronnie gave me my first taste of absinthe. He is a connoisseur. I tried the one with some marijuana in it. I didn’t hallucinate or start laughing at everything he said. It just gave me a really good buzz. Of course this could have been due to the 11% beer I was drinking but either way I was having a good time. I stayed there until late and walked back to my hostel. Amsterdam is not dangerous at night. I expected drunk hooligans to be running around everywhere, having sex with prostitutes and smoking drugs. That wasn’t the case. I felt perfectly safe at all times.

Amsterdam

I just saw a Dutch tv ad for ringtones. We have them in America featuring 50 cent or Lil Wayne. The difference is that this ad featured a skeleton head saying "Silence! Silence! I kill you!" in a middle eastern accent. Other than that blatant insensitivity for the tragedies of 9/11, Holland is wonderful. Details to follow.

Camelot

Are you serious, Democrat Party? A tribute to Ted Kennedy featuring John Kerry? This convention highlights why the Democrats will lose the election in a huge way. Obama will lose this election not because he is inexperienced, not because he is indecisive, not because he is a socialist, he will lose because his political machine is completely out of touch with the American public. Put policy differences aside. The Democrats should win this election by a landslide. The war in Iraq is unpopular, the economy is in the tank, oil prices are through the roof. How can they mess up this election? They can mess it up by doing the exact opposite of what the textbook requires. I watch this convention in amazement.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

I took my first trip to a New York City movie theater tonight to see Vicky Cristina Barcelona. My ticket cost $12 but my small Coke only cost $3.50. There is probably some kind of New York movie concession control law that prevents the cost of a Mr. Goodbar from getting too high. The movie was wonderful. Penelope (pronounced Pee-ne-lope) was outstanding as Javier Bardem's crazy ex wife and Woody Allen delivered another hilarious script. Go see it (that part about Penelope is not true but should be).

Obama's Mate

Joe Biden was a smart, safe pick for Barack Obama. Even staunchest Obama supporter cannot deny that he has almost zero relevant experience. The last time we elected a young man with almost zero relevant leader of the free world experience we got JFK. "Oh hold on now Ned, Kennedy was a great man and a great President." Sure, JFK was a good President if you don't consider the Bay of Pigs, Vietnam, further expanding the welfare state, and accomplishing almost nothing while in office. JFK is lionized because he was assassinated, not because he did anything worth celebrating. "But he inspired a nation." No, Martin Luther King Jr. inspired a nation. Plus, why should we turn to a politician for inspiration? Look to yourself for inspiration. We are in danger of losing our individual freedoms if we continue to allow the government to take dominion over our personal lives and finances.

I'll stop this digression. Biden has experience. If he doesn't go crazy like he is wont to do, he will add some credibility to a woefully inexperienced candidate.

On a lighter note, Jami and I went to Hogs and Heifers last night. It may or may not be the bar that inspired the movie Coyote Ugly. We both expected a tourist trap but, while it was populated with tourists all of who inevitably became our best friends, it was not all that touristy. The drinks were really cheap by New York standards; five dollar drafts and two dollar PBR's. I leave you with pictures of the world famous Hogs and Heifers.

Saving Money on International Travel

When booking international travel, pay the extra three hundred dollars. You can expect to pay more when booking through an actual airline rather than a discount website but the peace of mind is priceless. No one expects to change their reservation but unforeseen things happen. I expected to leave today but Florida Coastal's financial aid department is apparently run by the same people who run your local DMV so I have no money. My incredible parents have been kind enough to loan me some money to get by but "get by" money is not what I am looking for when traveling to Europe for three months. The problem is that changing a flight booked through an online travel agent such as, ahem, Vayama.com, is next to impossible because they can only change your ticket to one exactly like the one you already had but on a different date. That means they have to find a "negotiated fare", on the same airline, through the same airports, and you have to pay any difference in fare plus two steep fees. Amazingly, I was able to complete the change after several hours on the phone (hold) with Vayama and consequently I am (technically) leaving America next Wednesday (I say technically because I am in New York which is not really America).

Dropkick in Harvard Yard

Boston is white, real white. I saw about twenty black people over two days. Despite its homogeneity (or perhaps because of it) Boston is a wonderful town.

Buck and I left New York on Saturday morning at 9:00 a.m. We rode with a company called, Boltbus which cost 18.75. The bus ride wasn't too bad, took about five hours because of traffic.

We got into Boston at about 2:00 in the afternoon and were due to meet Michael at 4:30. I bought a map of Boston before the trip that outlined the freedom trail, a tour of famous revolutionary sites including John Hancock's grave and the first public schoolhouse. There are around twelve sites and we saw seven or eight of them. I have no pictures of our revolutionary trek because my camera battery was running low and I had to have pictures of Fenway the next day.

We probably could have seen more sites but we made an impromptu, two pub crawl. The first one, Kennedy's, was pretty cool. It is old and charming. The bartender was Irish which would be a recurring theme. Boston is true to many of its stereotypes. There are a lot of Irish people or people of Irish descent. I was wearing my Florida Coastal School of Law t-shirt. There was a guy wearing a Harvard Law shirt in the corner of the bar. I looked at my shirt and frowned while video game failure music played in my head.

The second bar, Hub Pub, was not quite as nice. The bartender was surly and not from Ireland. We only had a beer at each place. Buck is easily distracted and forgot to drink his beer. But, homeboy will recover. He chugged his beer and we left to meet Laker.

The subway is called the "T" and it is clean and efficient. The cars are spacious and you almost never see riff raff. I didn't realize it at the time but we saw around zero poor people. I am told that Boston is segregated which is why you don't see any black people or poor people. We took the "T" to Harvard Square where we met Laker. He showed us around Harvard and then we went to dinner with some of his friends. Linearly, the night looked like this: old Irish pub complete with Irish server, legit BBQ joint with crazy paintings and an underground dining room, rock band session at Laker's buddy Frank's house, and ass scorching karaoke session at a dive bar. The show included back to back duets featuring Laker and me singing Friends in Low Places and You Don't Have to Call Me Darlin'. The Bostonians yawned.

Buck and I felt a little rough the next day but Fenway was calling so we obliged. Fenway is as good as advertised. They have done a fine job of adding seats without compromising its charm. We had standing room only tickets but Josh Beckett got touched for eight runs in just three innings so the Red Sox faithful emptied a few actual chair backs for us. I'm still not much of a Sox fan but you have to appreciate a town that has permanent signs on their subway, sorry "T", warning against taking the E train because it does not stop at the Fenway Park station.

Live at the Apollo

I survived Harlem. I have no pictures of this harrowing experience because I am not Anderson Cooper. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do to survive. I'm not proud of all my actions but I have no regrets. Dom took me to a BBQ place called, Dinosaur, where we devoured half a chicken, potatoes, the best wings I've ever tasted, and a couple of beers, all while dodging bullets. We were nearly carjacked and I'm certain we would have been if we had a car.

The truth is, Harlem isn't that scary, at least the part of Harlem we saw. I did see some ladies yelling through the window because they were not receiving service at the outdoor tables. Apparently, walking inside the restaurant and asking for service was not an option. They had to yell through the window at the bartender. These women have never seen Waiting.

After lunch, we went to a Mexican place for a beer. Dom lives in a largely Latin American area. He gets his hair cut at Miguel's. Miguel tried to give him a chin strap beard and blocked off hairline. Seriously. Nice hair cut though. Then we met his girlfriend, Cat, and we all went to Union Square to have dinner with Jami. Dom took us to a Cuban place in Soho and it was amazing. I had the Cuban sandwich (hugs and kisses for anyone who can tell me what they call it in Cuba) and Jami had pork with crazy delicious toast. Dom brought some fine French wine and I capped off the night with a delightful cup of espresso. I'm just glad to be alive.

Lucero rocks Lady Liberty

Last night we watched Justin Townes Earle (son of the legendary Steve Earle) and Lucero aboard a cruise down the Hudson river, past the Statue of Liberty, into the East River and back. It was nothing short of rad. Justin Townes Earle played a handful of covers including some Woody Guthrie and Bill Monroe songs. Lucero followed with their usual face melting extravaganza. But, the bands were not the only attraction. The cruise went under the Brooklyn Bridge and offered breathtaking views of the Manhattan skyline at night.

Today I went to the Mets game again. Pedro was on the mound and did not disappoint. He went six innings, striking out three and giving up one earned run. The Mets bullpen blew it and the Pirates won 7-5. Disappointing game for "us" but I still love Shea and the Met faithful.

New York Metropolitans

My sojourn to the Netherlands begins with several days in Gotham City. Yesterday included a trip to Shea Stadium. Shea has a terrible reputation. It is usually described as a concrete sore that happens to house baseball games. This characterization is unfair. Sure, Shea is not Yankee Stadium. It has not been around since 1927; Howard Johnson and Keith Hernandez are not Babe Ruth and Joe Dimaggio; the Mets have only one World Championship; I understand why the Mets get so little respect. My trip to Shea may have been atypical but I saw everything that baseball should be about. Shea does not have a roller coaster, American Idol competition, or full service gas station within its walls. There is nothing to do but drink beer, eat hot dogs and watch baseball. And, this is what baseball deserves, especially the level of baseball being played by this incarnation of the New York Metropolitans.

Our "actual" seats were not very good. Our view was obstructed by the above level and the fans around us were fairly tame. We decided to move to the upper deck in the 4th inning. No sooner had we sat down than the only Marlins fan on the planet started waving a Marlins towel and yelling at the Mets faithful. This steroid monkey took exception to the Mets fans incessant jeering and started challenging the entire stadium to a fight. Some Metropolitan started the chant of "ass hole" which prompted 'roid monkey to rip off his shirt and rage. His buddy tried to settle him down but if you are not with 'roid monkey, you are against him. Monkey shoved his buddy and then stomped on his seat causing the Metropolitan fans to mock, "ooh", in unison. Security finally escorted him out and a newly energized upper deck started a wave. As a rule, I do not participate in the wave but these people were having so much fun (and were so likely to take my apathy as hatred for the Mets) that I had to oblige. We all did the wave and then booed the other side of the stadium for not carrying it on.