Accidents happen...

Tonight while cooking, I heard a loud noise. Like something breaking, real broken.

I looked out the window and saw a girl lying on the pavement, oranges, vegetables and a scooter scattered in six parts.

After staring for a while, I realised what happend. A good ol´ traffic accident. Nothing strange. However I found it my duty to investigate (see my previous post with fascination with medical detectives!).

After speaking to the girl and the "apparent" guilty boy on the scooter, I produced my last band-aid and cotton wool with tape as emergency measures.

Back in my apartment I mulled over the thought of checking to see if everything (especially the girl) was okay.

I decided to take out the trash.

The girl was gone, but in the dark alley next to my house I found two boys desperately trying to fix a scooter in the dark.

It made me wonder:

Where is the police?

When are they coming to fix the sign?

PS. I know the pic is out of focus... It adds to the dramatic effect!

My mind

I have adopted a true Dutch way of thinking. Not everyone will agree, but my thinking has changed so much since I have been living here.

I have learned to switch off lights as I go – my father would be proud. I remember big printed signs on the back of the garage door in our home saying “Switch the light off!”. However it never got through to me. And at the enlightening age of 30, and also after receiving an electricity bill of 650 euros, I get it.

Crime has always been an interest of mine. Which is strange, because I am such a scaredy cat, and not fond of bullet holes or blood. I had a Forensic Detectives phase, which lead to Medical Detectives, and eventually for the mass market, CSI Miami, New York and Las Vegas! I devoured it. That has since passed, but still the interest for true crime remains. When a new book came on the market here, Woensdag Gehaktdag (meaning Wednesday, Minceday) about a guy who was suspected of mincing his wife in a meat mince machine, I was on the case! I watched the interview, looked for the book online and was determined to buy it. Then social responsibility (a fairly new feeling for me) stepped in. After having lost everything to drinking and gambling and sitting many years in prison for the admitted murder of his wife (though not with a mincer), this guy has got no money. And no job. And I will literally be paying him a salary when I buy the book. (I am not even doing him a favour with a link to his name). Up to this day, my curiosity has never gotten the better of me, and I remain faithful to my new belief of not helping criminals.

The same thought-pattern followed when I saw the new O.J Simpson book on the shelf. Fondly remembering watching the trail on TV way past my bedtime with my father, I reached out for the hardcover. And retreated.

It may sound pretentious, I know, but I do find it refreshing to think about things now that has never crossed my mind.

In the same spirit, I have read this book. What is the What by Dave Eggers.

I do my washing on 30 degrees instead of 60. I try to print only when necessary at home. I am still not succeeding in that at work. I recycle. Glass with glass. Paper with paper. I take the tram and the train– partly due to not having a parking permit, but I do feel like I am earning 5 extra points in the climate debate.

I guess living so closely with each other in this miniscule country must have taught the Dutch something about tolerance and being responsible.

And I am a patient student.

Free time

Having to entertain myself quite a lot while Jaco is away, I have become a big youtube fan.
Not only does it provide unlimited entertainment until 2am on a Monday morning, it also is amazing to see what other people do in their free time.

I have picked some current favourites:

Margarita Pracatan

Margarita Pracatan is a Cuban novelty singer, who found success in the 1990s when Clive James had her perform live on his TV show on numerous occasions. Radio DJ Martin Kelner also played her frequently on his BBC Night Network and BBC Radio 2 programmes.
According to her website, Clive James discovered her Manhattan Public Access program and invited her to the UK to appear on his show. He sweet-talked her into believing he was serious, and she signed up. Not once on the show did he make it overt that he knew what he was doing, but his introductions to her end-of-show performances contained a tiny amount of teasing irony.
- Wikipedia

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8iZ0AIEWH8

Also with Liza Minelli watching...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hpkP2mb4SA&feature=related


Check also her other videos amongst others Mamma Mia from Abba!
I can see her walking through Heathrow with a feather boa dragging the keyboard through security!


Living in pancakeland:

This one is extra special for me...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UG5gO4nlLRQ


Plain White T´s:

The new Weird Al´Yankowich!!! How I miss him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMqTKA8BxvE

That is all for now, I prefer writing to posting links as you know, but this was too good to leave.

The move

Just like the first home I bought I´ve just suffered a sense of loss when moving into my new house. It is a happy loss, but still. I am yet to determine what I am losing, but it is a strange feeling that coincides with stepping over boxes and viewing all your earthly belongings fitting into a double bedroom or medium sized truck.

I have always been quick to get up and go, and also quick to settle down. In Taiwan I owned a kettle, oven, bed, tv, various books, bamboo plant, scooter etc, and left it all behind at a week's notice. Back in South Africa, it took a while, but I bought another house, wooden floor, car and Lulu, the cat.

I still have the cat.

Living on the Overtoom is challenging. It involves public transport, something which needs some getting used to. Sure, it is a great invention, and in a country like this it works well. But still. Personal space is not overrated.

Currently I am number 81 on the waiting list for a parking permit, and number 1 on the list applied in July 1999. It seems realistic that I will have a Dutch passport before I will have a parking permit for Amsterdam.
I have two huge windows overlooking an extremely busy street.

As a good Amsterdammer, I have a couple of options: 1) Place semi-transparent foil on eye-height on my window so people cannot look in. 2) Be completely exhibitionistic and leave it wide open. 3) Hang heavy velvet curtains and keep it closed at all times (frowned upon, and you'll probably have the police at your door very soon) and lastly, 4) Something in between. I chose for the sober option 4. I have semi-transparent white blinds (that I open when I'm home) that displays silhouettes when the lights are on inside. This makes for excellent entertainment when Pixel (the new Dutch kitty) is sitting in the window sill, and me on the couch. If only I could get that kind of attention sitting in a window sill! (Oh, I could, but that was not my choice of career!)

Integrating has become a hobby for me. Something like knitting, you do it when you have time and you get some therapeutic value from it. It also has a whiff of achievement to it, especially when you start to recognise the celebrities, understand the traffic report and can spot a bad neighbourhood. (The latter still requires some practice.) Other tasks like driving without navigation, memorising the train schedule and understanding bureaucracy are optional extras in my quest.

Getting back to losing things, I have a familiar feeling of "where is my stuff" that I recall from my move to the Netherlands. Waking up with sweaty palms thinking: "Did I leave the Alessi pan in the oven in Hilversum?" or even simpler "Where is the camera charger?" I am sure you are familiar with this thought pattern if you have moved house once in your life, but this feeling is enhanced when you are moving continents, or even a few kilometres in a strange country.

I must admit that I have grown immensely in my ability to accept these kind of things. They are mostly related to earthly possessions. A while ago I slipped on water that Lulu has spilled and grabbed for the nearest thing to break my fall. The drinks trolley. Stacked with all my breakables collected from my travels. I broke: a mug from Villeroy & Boch I bought with my mother in Vienna, a crystal sherry glass I bought in Budapest, two wineglasses that cannot be replaced and two super-cute wine glasses that my father loves. After being thankful that I did not have one cut, I sat on the floor between red, white and sandblasted glass thinking: I can cry or I can get up and watch TV. I chose a good ol´ reality show to cheer me up.

Thinking about it more clearly now, I have not lost anything moving to the Overtoom. I have gained a vibrant shopping street, a walk home from the train, and friendly neighbours that keep on ringing my bell by mistake. I am a city girl now, at last, and for real. A world city.

Even though I still feel a little bit of loss, I am, as they would say in Taiwan, "the happy".

And I still have the Lulu.

Ik snap daar niets van...

Meet a real-life politician in the Netherlands:

Geert Wilders.

Known for his wild statements (in Tolerantville!) to ban the Koran

and stop the "islamisation" of Holland.

Whazzzzup with the hair?

and the nose?

Mousehunt

So I have two very different but loving cats. First there was Lulu, all white, sweet, but not smart. Then Pixel came along - gorgeous, smart but stubborn.





So on Sunday night Lulu and Pixel were obsessed with my Volvo folder I received with my new car. Sitting on it, sniffing it, and generally loving it!

Knowning that something is suspect I lifted the folder... and a shocked little mouse started me right in the eye.

So after a long chase throughout my 90m2 flat, it crawled under the washing machine.

I gave up.

Coming home last night I suspected a half-chewed mouse on the floor or even worse in my bed. Nothing.

So tonight, Pixel starts chasing something behind the printer. Then the couch, then the printer. Under the couch, behind the printer. And on and on.

Not believing that this scenario is repeating itself, I chased with Pixel. Throughout the flat. Again.

It involved the involuntary re-design of the spare bedroom, the unpacking of my winter clothes and dropping a pair of pants in the filthy ditch outside the window.

Still no luck.

Feeling like a scotch, I sat behind my computer again.

And the action behind the printer started again. This time, Pixel managed to catch the poor creature and carried it to... the spare bedroom.

Saving you the same paragraphs as before, 15 minutes later, Pixel had it in her mouth again and I managed to get her to go out the door.

At last. Success.

Now just dealing with my new hand-washing obsession without having even touched something.

Ugghhh...

For the few followers...

Life here is:

• free
• lonely
• awesome
• expensive
• privileged
• mind-altering
• different
• settling in to be life-as-usual
• working hard
• sleeping lots
• enjoying the sun for the first time
• thinking about the past
• thinking about the future
• pulling yourself towards yourself
• did i mention free?
• easy
• challenging

New link

On the right hand side you will find a new link to a band (now) called ForestGreen.
Check it out, listen to the samples and let me know what you think.

Be warned...

"With theft we first phone the ambulance and only then the police. Consider yourself warned!"

Istanbul Instructions

PLEASE READ THE ISTANBUL STORY BOTTOM UP

E.G EPISODE 1 FIRST.

Blue Mosque

Aya Sophia

Istanbul: Episode Three

Not forgetting that Turkey has borders with Iran and Iraq, I was hesitant to walk through the entrance of the hotel with metal detectors and strict security measures.

But for some reason there is a certain sense of calmness about the place.

A serenity that of course cannot be explained and is further mystified by the mosque calls five times a day. Coupled with the ever-audible seagull calls, it is a magical place.

And in the words of Forest Gump, “that’s all I have to say about that.”

Istanbul: Episode 2

Okay, so the initial shock of the room has diminished, and I made peace with the fact that I am going to call Ipek Palas home for the next two nights.

I decided to venture out into the streets as it was after 7 pm and I was starving. Like a good tourist, I thought I would sightsee a little bit and then sit down for a quiet, yet local, dinner.

I think I managed three steps out the front door when I was approached by a fairly handsome, yet extremely slick, Turkish man in a pink shirt and suit. Although being warned by colleagues about the information gathering skills of the Turkish, he knew within 2 sentences that I live in the Netherlands, and continued in such fluent Dutch it made me self-conscious. I will spare you the details, but after a lengthy conversation I was rid of him and managed to buy some mineral water from a shop a block further (he followed me all the way).

Taking a brisk walk around the block cleared my head of the room-incident, the terribly disgusting kiss and the slick-pink-dude.

Being very careful not to get lost, I didn’t venture our too far, and soon found myself in front of the Ipek Palas again, still hungry. (Did I mention that slick-pink-dude tried to sell me a starter from “his” restaurant before I managed to escape?)

Going for the path of least resistance, I crumbled to his charms and sat down at a table literally on the street. Every time a taxi drives past I flinch and move my chair a little bit.

Now, I am a strong believer in that everything happens for a reason. And it has never been more clearly illustrated to me than everything I have experienced here. If I have not:
- been to the Indian plaza in JHB where every salesperson is your best friend
- almost been ripped off in Belgium by silly French-speaking opportunists
- experienced an authentic African market in Cameroon where you literally need a big black bodyguard, and
- of course spent time in Taiwan, which is way to complicated and un-understandable to explain here,

I would not have survived this evening.

Slick-pink-dude tried every trick in the book. From just bluntly bringing food to the table without you ordering anything, to suggesting a day out tomorrow with other Dutch girls that were sitting at the opposite table (of course only after they have already left, so his story could not be verified). He went on to enquire about a possible boyfriend, and subtly (not!) fishing if I knew any locals. I stepped into a couple of questions, but as with any game, soon got the hang of it.

I had some nice wine, a good dinner, and most importantly, a correct bill at the end!

I was proud.

After paying, and of course leaving a good tip, as he did try his best, he sent me on my way with the customary Dutch three cheek kisses.

Even after all that I have seen in my short life, and my subtle appreciation for different cultures, feeling his day old stubble against my cheek gave me the chills.

Istanbul: Episode 1

I should have known… Ipek Palas (read palace)….

As always, I went for second cheapest. I booked the hotel on the internet, thinking “How bad can it be?”

Actually the story starts at the Conrad Hilton – Istanbul:

After living in style for two nights at this fantastic hotel where staff never walk in front of you, are always there, yet invisible, and 24 hour room service, I left the life of luxury and went on my journey for the “real” Istanbul.

A taxi ride with a doubtful driver (reminding me of the joke: "My grandfather died peacefully in his sleep, unlike his passengers screaming in horror"), I was safely delivered to the Ipek Palas.

Checking in seemed ok, the front office clerk rattled on about guided tours, breakfast on the terrace and other useful (yet confusing) information. I was guided to my room by a very young (what is the legal age for working in Turkey?) boy-man, and as he opened the door…

I experienced a shock that I have last felt when I arrived in Chiang Kai-shek airport in Taiwan. Complete and utter shock. This must be the smallest hotel room in the world. Similar to the Trainspotting bathroom being the filthiest.

Sure, I booked a single, but still.

The bathroom is bigger than the room. One could consider moving the mattress to the spot before the shower; it might create more ambience.

Since the boy-man was still standing in the doorway I calmly requested if they have any other (read bigger!) rooms available. Nodding in understanding, he picked up the internal phone and called the front desk. After rambling on in Turkish, he assured me that I could have a double room for 10 euros per night extra. Fantastic! But, I said, (not hitting my head against the same rock twice), I would like to see it first. Yes, he said, no problem. And left.

Calling loudly after him like a real American tourist, I asked again if I could see the room. Now? Yes, he assured me. And left. Again. Without me.

Completely confused, as I was still startled by the passionate (read wet) kiss he planted on my right hand just before his swift departure, I went downstairs.

Assuming (my fault, I know!) that the front office desk person was on the other side of the mentioned telephone conversation, I asked him if I could see the room.

The answer was clear and in English: The hotel is full. No double or any other rooms available. At any price.

I felt like throwing my hands in the air and shouting “Wo ting bu dong!”

Hey, it worked in Taiwan…

And the friends....sorry Jaco... to follow...

Back from ZA

I am back from South Africa and it was a truly amazing trip.

I will write some more later, but here are some cool pics from my visit.

Progress report

Since I have been here the following has happened:

• The flight I used to take to Douala, Cameroon, crashed. Two MTN employees on board
• I spent a night in hospital due to... well, I am not sure, but I was damn sick
• My friend was mugged at gunpoint in the centre, and his laptop, wallet and my 3G card stolen
• I have not yet managed (since last night) to block the 3G SIM card due to ridiculously poor service from Vodacom.

Oh, and now as I am typing this I am colouring my hair at home, as there is a power failure in the area where I had a hair appointment.

T.I.A!

Hilversum at Night

I got home tonight, and found this...

Me in Keukenhof