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I'm home, cheesburgers, steak, and freedom of expression abound. Did you know it is illegal to give a Nazi salute in Holland? I have never and likely will never execute such a gesture but should be able to if I so desire. In New York I have the right to give a Nazi salute and then get my ass handed to me by the two hundred people who saw it. It is good to be home.
I noticed the difference immediately. At JFK International Airport I saw black people, Spanish people, fat people wearing dirty sweatpants, and Mexicans. It was amazing. At least five languages were heard within the first ten minutes, none of them Dutch. What I underestimated was the reverse culture shock. New York is, well, New York. It's the Big Apple, the streets are slammed at 2:30 in the afternoon, tourists and locals vying for position and relevance in the flow of traffic. I didn't notice it coming from Jacksonville to New York but Gotham is a dimension away from The Hague. The contrast is instructive. It highlights the "good" and the "bad", for lack of better words. I will miss bike travel, the people I met, the bar culture, and the pace of life. I will not miss the food, the Dutch, or the weather.
This is where I should probably talk about how much fun I had and what an incredible experience it was, etc. But, I think that is universally understood. You've read the blog. You know how much fun I had in Holland and throughout Europe. No, this is not some kind of farewell post. I am going to continue the blog if only for my own therapy and vanity. Thank you all for reading. Your comments helped me combat homesickness and keep my focus on the big picture.
Cheers.
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Velvet Hammer Celebrates The Velvet Revolution
Czechoslovakia split into the Czech Republic and Slovakia during 1989. Communism fell and the two republics peacefully split in what is now referred to as the Velvet Revolution, so named because its leaders were inspired by the band the Velvet Underground and the peaceful way in which it split. Monday, the 17th of November, was the anniversary of this historic sea change. I was honored to be able to experience the celebration. As a child of the end of the cold war, I still think communism is an evil ethos. People tend to have short memories and the ideals of communism are creeping back into the world’s collective consciousness. We should be mindful of the pain, suffering, and death caused by communism in its various forms. Society is doomed when the collective good becomes more important than the individual. Feel free to tear apart that statement if you wish, it is intentionally vague and subject to interpretation.
Jon had to do some work so I went on my own walking tour of revolutionary sites. My knee was throbbing from the mysterious injury suffered on day one but I wasn’t about to let that keep me from relishing history. I walked along Prague’s main thoroughfare to visit the Memorial to the Victims of Communism as well as a couple of other sites where Vaclav Havel, inspired by among other things, the band the Velvet Underground, hosted public discussions on the dangers and evils of communism. Havel would be elected the first President of post communism Czech Republic. During my journey I happened upon a demonstration. The protestors were holding signs with the word, “radar”, enclosed in a circle with a line through it. I noticed that another, much smaller, group was holding American flags in the background. Just to confirm my suspicion, I asked one of the flag holders what was happening. He explained that the radar people were protesting against the proposed missile defense shield that President Bush has been advocating. The guys with the flags were all for it. I don’t know enough about it to make an intelligent comment. A guy with a guitar took the stage and started singing about Meestah Bush. That’s all I could make out, Meestah Bush. I don’t think the Europeans believe us. Their like, yeah right, sure you had elections, we know Premier Bush is king for life. Two Bulgarians told me that McCain would have been George Bush’s puppet much like Medvedev is to Putin in Russia. That’s what the media tells them. This may be shocking but I set them straight.
That night, we had drinks at a cellar bar called, U Sudu, one of the coolest bars I have ever patronized. We drank some Czech wine that was cheap and surprisingly good. I would put it up against many of the moderately priced California reds I have tasted. After solving the world’s problems, Jon and I went home. Thankfully, Jon had to get up and work the next day so we left relatively early. I could have stayed there all night. The place was that charming. Unfortunately, the Czech wine was good enough that Jon left his backpack containing his computer at the bar. We had to walk back to the bar because we just missed the tram and another wouldn’t be there for another thirty minutes. My knee wailed the entire trip. On the way back to his flat we caught a tram. This was bittersweet. You know how I always say that Americans get a bad rap abroad? Four American girls rode the tram with us and put on a clinic of how to be annoying and disrespectful in someone else’s country. The Czech people are pretty reserved. They aren’t noisy or flashy. These girls were the opposite.
Girl from New York:
“Like, you guys, like I don’t know if this is like the right tram!”
All four, including the girl who posed the question, trying to talk at once:
“Yeah, like, I don’t, like, yeah, no, like, wait, yeah, this is it, yeah, omg, yeah”
Girl from New Jersey, to me:
“Do you know where this tram like going?”
“No, I’m not really sure, Jon?”
Jon, annoyed, “No”
“Where are y’all from,” I asked.
“like Houston, like Long Island, like New Jersey, and Atlanta….like”
“How do you like Prague?”
“We like love it, we’re studying abroad, we party like EVERY night.”
“Have you learned any Czech?”
Girl from New Jersey:
“I can speak Dobry Den (good day in Czech).”
Jon had to do some work so I went on my own walking tour of revolutionary sites. My knee was throbbing from the mysterious injury suffered on day one but I wasn’t about to let that keep me from relishing history. I walked along Prague’s main thoroughfare to visit the Memorial to the Victims of Communism as well as a couple of other sites where Vaclav Havel, inspired by among other things, the band the Velvet Underground, hosted public discussions on the dangers and evils of communism. Havel would be elected the first President of post communism Czech Republic. During my journey I happened upon a demonstration. The protestors were holding signs with the word, “radar”, enclosed in a circle with a line through it. I noticed that another, much smaller, group was holding American flags in the background. Just to confirm my suspicion, I asked one of the flag holders what was happening. He explained that the radar people were protesting against the proposed missile defense shield that President Bush has been advocating. The guys with the flags were all for it. I don’t know enough about it to make an intelligent comment. A guy with a guitar took the stage and started singing about Meestah Bush. That’s all I could make out, Meestah Bush. I don’t think the Europeans believe us. Their like, yeah right, sure you had elections, we know Premier Bush is king for life. Two Bulgarians told me that McCain would have been George Bush’s puppet much like Medvedev is to Putin in Russia. That’s what the media tells them. This may be shocking but I set them straight.
That night, we had drinks at a cellar bar called, U Sudu, one of the coolest bars I have ever patronized. We drank some Czech wine that was cheap and surprisingly good. I would put it up against many of the moderately priced California reds I have tasted. After solving the world’s problems, Jon and I went home. Thankfully, Jon had to get up and work the next day so we left relatively early. I could have stayed there all night. The place was that charming. Unfortunately, the Czech wine was good enough that Jon left his backpack containing his computer at the bar. We had to walk back to the bar because we just missed the tram and another wouldn’t be there for another thirty minutes. My knee wailed the entire trip. On the way back to his flat we caught a tram. This was bittersweet. You know how I always say that Americans get a bad rap abroad? Four American girls rode the tram with us and put on a clinic of how to be annoying and disrespectful in someone else’s country. The Czech people are pretty reserved. They aren’t noisy or flashy. These girls were the opposite.
Girl from New York:
“Like, you guys, like I don’t know if this is like the right tram!”
All four, including the girl who posed the question, trying to talk at once:
“Yeah, like, I don’t, like, yeah, no, like, wait, yeah, this is it, yeah, omg, yeah”
Girl from New Jersey, to me:
“Do you know where this tram like going?”
“No, I’m not really sure, Jon?”
Jon, annoyed, “No”
“Where are y’all from,” I asked.
“like Houston, like Long Island, like New Jersey, and Atlanta….like”
“How do you like Prague?”
“We like love it, we’re studying abroad, we party like EVERY night.”
“Have you learned any Czech?”
Girl from New Jersey:
“I can speak Dobry Den (good day in Czech).”
Monday, November 10, 2008
Contest
I need some encouragement. I am looking for someone to cheer me up about Premier Obama. You don't have to convince me that he's going to be a good President, just provide a coherent argument outlining how he is not going to drive us into a second Great Depression followed by dictatorship followed by the apocalypse. That's all. First prize is a pack of peanut M & M's. Second prize, a pat on the butt. Third prize, a high five.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Super Troopers
Add Neosporin to your list of things that are not available in the Netherlands. I asked the pharmacist for some, she wasn’t familiar so I showed her the names of the ingredients. She looked at me like I had asked her, “Where do you keep your heroin? I’ve been tootin’ blow all weekend and need something to settle my nerves.” She offered vitamin B12 but I didn’t buy it. Neosporin is going to be added to my Holland survival kit-list that Travis is so graciously bringing.
Speaking of Travis, I saw someone get pulled over on their bike the other day. I was riding home from work Wednesday night with my brand new street legal lights when I noticed a tall man on a bike wielding an air traffic control baton. The closer I got, the more apparent it became that this man was in fact a bicycle fuzz who had a Dutchman in his clutches. The exchange looked much like the typical American traffic stop. The bike fuzz was chastising the young man while he looked up and nodded, occasionally asking questions to feign interest. The Law handed him a ticket and started the arduous process of refolding his ticket book and putting his pen back in the front jacket pocket. I immediately pictured a scenario from my forthcoming road trip to Germany. If you have never seen Super Troopers, stop reading and Google, “Super Troopers, German Couple Scene”. Warning: Some mild sexual content.
I can see us getting pulled over on the autobahn. A German patrolman comes to each side of the car and asks us whether we know how fast we are going.
“Well, yes officer, we were goin’ waaay too slow. We don’t have the aw-tow- bahn in ‘Merica,” my friend Jon replies.
“Ja, und maybe zere is zomething you can do vhor me, or perhaps zomething vhor my partner,” says the German trooper.
“Zomething? (I explain this last exchange to Jon) Oh, hell no! Buncha fa..”
Just then, Bulldawg wakes from his nap and asks what’s up. He has been drinking Belgian beers for the last five hours and has no idea we were just pulled over for going too slow. He says something in drunken Magamoll. It turns out that the Magamolls have been speaking German this whole time. It’s not that they mumble when they are drunk, they speak fluent German, that’s why we cannot understand them. Whatever he says works and we avoid spending the night at Dachau.
I promise to update you on our travels as soon as possible including whether or not my hypothesis about Magamoll speak is true but I do not plan on taking my computer to the world’s largest beer festival. I’m sure the hotel will have internet access so I will write a little something and/or have guest writer, Travis, add some of his observations.
I have recruited a group to go to Delft tomorrow. If you are unfamiliar with it, do a quick Google search. William of Orange, the George Washington of the Netherlands, defeated the Spanish from his Delft command center. He is buried in the Nieuwe Kerk (new church) which was completed in 1510. The Oude Kerk was built in the thirteenth century. The town is the birthplace of Delftware and is reportedly gorgeous. We are going to bike there which should be interesting because the guy at the market is sold out of budget wheels and I refuse to pay twice as much at a store; Willie and I are just going to limp along to the next town. Twenty or thirty Euro could buy a one way ticket to France or a nice bottle of wine once I get there.
Please exercise your right to vote. I have posted a poll. Travis and I need to figure out what to do during his second weekend in town.
Go Gators. You never appreciate something so much as when it is unavailable. I love Gator football but have become a fanatic since coming to Holland. I will not be able to watch the game so somebody pick up the cheering slack.
Speaking of Travis, I saw someone get pulled over on their bike the other day. I was riding home from work Wednesday night with my brand new street legal lights when I noticed a tall man on a bike wielding an air traffic control baton. The closer I got, the more apparent it became that this man was in fact a bicycle fuzz who had a Dutchman in his clutches. The exchange looked much like the typical American traffic stop. The bike fuzz was chastising the young man while he looked up and nodded, occasionally asking questions to feign interest. The Law handed him a ticket and started the arduous process of refolding his ticket book and putting his pen back in the front jacket pocket. I immediately pictured a scenario from my forthcoming road trip to Germany. If you have never seen Super Troopers, stop reading and Google, “Super Troopers, German Couple Scene”. Warning: Some mild sexual content.
I can see us getting pulled over on the autobahn. A German patrolman comes to each side of the car and asks us whether we know how fast we are going.
“Well, yes officer, we were goin’ waaay too slow. We don’t have the aw-tow- bahn in ‘Merica,” my friend Jon replies.
“Ja, und maybe zere is zomething you can do vhor me, or perhaps zomething vhor my partner,” says the German trooper.
“Zomething? (I explain this last exchange to Jon) Oh, hell no! Buncha fa..”
Just then, Bulldawg wakes from his nap and asks what’s up. He has been drinking Belgian beers for the last five hours and has no idea we were just pulled over for going too slow. He says something in drunken Magamoll. It turns out that the Magamolls have been speaking German this whole time. It’s not that they mumble when they are drunk, they speak fluent German, that’s why we cannot understand them. Whatever he says works and we avoid spending the night at Dachau.
I promise to update you on our travels as soon as possible including whether or not my hypothesis about Magamoll speak is true but I do not plan on taking my computer to the world’s largest beer festival. I’m sure the hotel will have internet access so I will write a little something and/or have guest writer, Travis, add some of his observations.
I have recruited a group to go to Delft tomorrow. If you are unfamiliar with it, do a quick Google search. William of Orange, the George Washington of the Netherlands, defeated the Spanish from his Delft command center. He is buried in the Nieuwe Kerk (new church) which was completed in 1510. The Oude Kerk was built in the thirteenth century. The town is the birthplace of Delftware and is reportedly gorgeous. We are going to bike there which should be interesting because the guy at the market is sold out of budget wheels and I refuse to pay twice as much at a store; Willie and I are just going to limp along to the next town. Twenty or thirty Euro could buy a one way ticket to France or a nice bottle of wine once I get there.
Please exercise your right to vote. I have posted a poll. Travis and I need to figure out what to do during his second weekend in town.
Go Gators. You never appreciate something so much as when it is unavailable. I love Gator football but have become a fanatic since coming to Holland. I will not be able to watch the game so somebody pick up the cheering slack.
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