Counting Sheep can help.
... Make sure you've got sound enabled for the full effect.
Sunday, September 28, 2003
Party People
Another fun evening last night. I have now been here six months and although it's taken some time to get started, my social life is definitely blooming.
I went to a birthday party in the City. Met some great people and it was in a lovely apartment - I am getting very jealous about the places some people manage to acquire at minimum cost compared to my disappointing attempts at finding a bargain. Amsterdam is pretty pricey and places tend to get snapped up, so I have some very lucky friends!
A few large glasses of wine into the evening I ended up salsa dancing with a slightly odd guy from Essex, participating in a three-woman cabaret act that involved lip-synching to 'It's Raining Men' (using hairbrushes as microphones), having an in-depth conversation with a Dutch midwife about the colour of afterbirth (she compared it to the soy sauce we were dipping our spring rolls in) and finally cycling all the way back to Zaandam at 4am. The journey took me around an hour (not easy on my rusty bike with a slightly flat tyre) and involved a journey on a ferry (occupied solely by me and three slightly worse-for-wear Dutch teenagers who danced around the ferry to the sound of their car stereo). Another highly-entertaining confirmation that Dutch men and Dancing is an uneasy combination.
When I finally got back to Zaandam I checked the seat of my trousers for saddle damage. This has become a necessity since I wore two large holes in my best trousers one evening on a similar journey. I just hope that the damage occurred on the return journey otherwise I must have spent the whole evening showing off my pants to the Dutch. Good job we're in Amsterdam where these things are probably considered to be normal.
I went to a birthday party in the City. Met some great people and it was in a lovely apartment - I am getting very jealous about the places some people manage to acquire at minimum cost compared to my disappointing attempts at finding a bargain. Amsterdam is pretty pricey and places tend to get snapped up, so I have some very lucky friends!
A few large glasses of wine into the evening I ended up salsa dancing with a slightly odd guy from Essex, participating in a three-woman cabaret act that involved lip-synching to 'It's Raining Men' (using hairbrushes as microphones), having an in-depth conversation with a Dutch midwife about the colour of afterbirth (she compared it to the soy sauce we were dipping our spring rolls in) and finally cycling all the way back to Zaandam at 4am. The journey took me around an hour (not easy on my rusty bike with a slightly flat tyre) and involved a journey on a ferry (occupied solely by me and three slightly worse-for-wear Dutch teenagers who danced around the ferry to the sound of their car stereo). Another highly-entertaining confirmation that Dutch men and Dancing is an uneasy combination.
When I finally got back to Zaandam I checked the seat of my trousers for saddle damage. This has become a necessity since I wore two large holes in my best trousers one evening on a similar journey. I just hope that the damage occurred on the return journey otherwise I must have spent the whole evening showing off my pants to the Dutch. Good job we're in Amsterdam where these things are probably considered to be normal.
Saturday, September 27, 2003
Goedemorgen!
Ahh... Saturday morning is here at last. The sun is shining, I've managed to doze my way back into credit in my Sleep Deprivation Account and I've become Happy in Holland again.
It's been one of those weeks where I hit the sack after midnight and woke up at 5.30am far too often. I started to think that it was normal to walk into doorframes and drink four cappuccinos an hour. At least this week I've managed to avoid my special 'early morning absence-of-brain' trick of going to the ATM at the station, asking for money, leaving it in the machine, getting on the train. I'm sure there are a few commuters in Zaandam who have benefited in the past by the lucky jackpot payouts provided courtesy of Lucy and her sleep-deprived brain.
It's been one of those weeks where I hit the sack after midnight and woke up at 5.30am far too often. I started to think that it was normal to walk into doorframes and drink four cappuccinos an hour. At least this week I've managed to avoid my special 'early morning absence-of-brain' trick of going to the ATM at the station, asking for money, leaving it in the machine, getting on the train. I'm sure there are a few commuters in Zaandam who have benefited in the past by the lucky jackpot payouts provided courtesy of Lucy and her sleep-deprived brain.
Sunday, September 21, 2003
Dam Tot Dam Loop
Just back from the Amsterdam to Zaandam race. I did the ten miles in 1 hr and 35 mins.
It's hardly in the realms of elite athletics, but I'm pretty chuffed as people were dropping like flies in the heat - you don't expect it to be 26 degrees in late-September and most of the route was shade-less. I could feel the afternoon sun beating down on my skull, but tried to put it out of my mind and just kept on running.
It was a great experience and I'm so glad I did it. Amsterdam was full of runners before the race - 28,000 fit bodies all wandering around. I think half of them were in the queue for the ladies infront of me (two tiny portaloos didn't quite meet the demand). Once the race got started the wait was worth it. I loved the first few kilometers and was getting shivers of excitement running down my spine as I got caught up in the atmosphere. As we ran through the big underwater tunnel behind Centraal Station the runners were all clapping their hands and cheering and I had to stop myself from breaking into a sprint with all the adrenaline pumping. I was glad I decided to pace myself when I got beyond the 12 km mark - things were feeling much tougher and I had to grit my teeth, settle into a rhythm and ignore the heat.
It was the Dutch spectators that really made it a special afternoon. Some families had put tables outside of their houses and were giving out drinks. Others had set up hosepipes to provide a welcome cool-down. One old couple had dragged their speakers out into the front garden and were bashing upturned washing up bowls and washboards with wooden spoons along to the rhythm of the music. There was also music provided by brass bands (one band were all wearing clogs!), drummers and military bands.
It was so nice running as part of my work team. We all met in the hospitality tent afterwards and there was a lovely feeling of camaraderie. Plus free beer!!
Am probably insane, but I'm now thinking about the Amsterdam Half Marathon in October.
It's hardly in the realms of elite athletics, but I'm pretty chuffed as people were dropping like flies in the heat - you don't expect it to be 26 degrees in late-September and most of the route was shade-less. I could feel the afternoon sun beating down on my skull, but tried to put it out of my mind and just kept on running.
It was a great experience and I'm so glad I did it. Amsterdam was full of runners before the race - 28,000 fit bodies all wandering around. I think half of them were in the queue for the ladies infront of me (two tiny portaloos didn't quite meet the demand). Once the race got started the wait was worth it. I loved the first few kilometers and was getting shivers of excitement running down my spine as I got caught up in the atmosphere. As we ran through the big underwater tunnel behind Centraal Station the runners were all clapping their hands and cheering and I had to stop myself from breaking into a sprint with all the adrenaline pumping. I was glad I decided to pace myself when I got beyond the 12 km mark - things were feeling much tougher and I had to grit my teeth, settle into a rhythm and ignore the heat.
It was the Dutch spectators that really made it a special afternoon. Some families had put tables outside of their houses and were giving out drinks. Others had set up hosepipes to provide a welcome cool-down. One old couple had dragged their speakers out into the front garden and were bashing upturned washing up bowls and washboards with wooden spoons along to the rhythm of the music. There was also music provided by brass bands (one band were all wearing clogs!), drummers and military bands.
It was so nice running as part of my work team. We all met in the hospitality tent afterwards and there was a lovely feeling of camaraderie. Plus free beer!!
Am probably insane, but I'm now thinking about the Amsterdam Half Marathon in October.
Alternative Evening
Last night was one of those evenings when you really feel like you're in Amsterdam. Parties like that just don't happen in England. I felt like I was crashing someone else's life (if only for a couple of hours) and had a lovely time.
We went by bike to what looked like an old boathouse or warehouse by the docks. It is apparently part of the Amsterdam 'squat scene' and is run by a group of artists (although is now under threat of closure - an expensive housing development or something). You have to understand that I am a little vague on the details of the evening, despite being the only person in the room not drinking or smoking (I have a big race to run this afternoon!). The reason for this is that the Dutch guy who was there with me provided the commentary and his English was slightly patchy (by Dutch standards) plus there was this amazing drumming going on that made hearing what he said difficult. Perhaps some things got lost in the translation, or perhaps it really was as bizarre as he explained. The theme of the evening was 'a woman losing her virginity' (see what I mean?). The room was decorated with a 12ft high white hoop that had several big white balloons attached to it. These balloons had been filled with confetti and every now and again one of the dancers would burst one, showering everyone in red petals. The Dutch guy is studying a four year course in Alternative Healing and some Russian Shamanists who had come to his college to do a workshop had invited him to the party. I guess it's a Shamanist thing (she says, trying to sound like she knows) but there was some pretty amazing dancing going on. The Dutch guy was trying to educate me about Astral Karate and the finer points of Mirrorology (am still none the wiser), but I just wanted to sit and soak up the ambiance.
Maybe it was the marijuana smoke that was hanging thick in the air and I was getting passively high, but I was enchanted by these people.
We went by bike to what looked like an old boathouse or warehouse by the docks. It is apparently part of the Amsterdam 'squat scene' and is run by a group of artists (although is now under threat of closure - an expensive housing development or something). You have to understand that I am a little vague on the details of the evening, despite being the only person in the room not drinking or smoking (I have a big race to run this afternoon!). The reason for this is that the Dutch guy who was there with me provided the commentary and his English was slightly patchy (by Dutch standards) plus there was this amazing drumming going on that made hearing what he said difficult. Perhaps some things got lost in the translation, or perhaps it really was as bizarre as he explained. The theme of the evening was 'a woman losing her virginity' (see what I mean?). The room was decorated with a 12ft high white hoop that had several big white balloons attached to it. These balloons had been filled with confetti and every now and again one of the dancers would burst one, showering everyone in red petals. The Dutch guy is studying a four year course in Alternative Healing and some Russian Shamanists who had come to his college to do a workshop had invited him to the party. I guess it's a Shamanist thing (she says, trying to sound like she knows) but there was some pretty amazing dancing going on. The Dutch guy was trying to educate me about Astral Karate and the finer points of Mirrorology (am still none the wiser), but I just wanted to sit and soak up the ambiance.
Maybe it was the marijuana smoke that was hanging thick in the air and I was getting passively high, but I was enchanted by these people.
Thursday, September 18, 2003
Blog Fodder Galore
Watch this space over the next few days folks. There's going to be quite a bit going on that I reckon will make good blog fodder.
First there's a Speed Dating event tomorrow night. Say no more. Expat geeks galore? What do you reckon?
Then I'm meeting a strange Dutchman friend-of-a-friend who wants to take me to an 'alternative party' on Saturday night. I'm not sure what makes the alternative party 'alternative' here in Amsterdam, but I guess I'm going to find out. I'm hoping it has nothing to do with leather or wife-swapping.
Then there's the Dam Tot Dam on Sunday (if I survive the 'alternative party').
As I say, watch this space.
The massage is going well! My little cash tin is filling up and suddenly I find myself fully booked until a week monday. Not bad for three days work. At this rate I'll be able to afford to rent a nice new apartment in Amsterdam soon. The only downside is that I feel like I'm absorbing the entire company's tension into my own body.
First there's a Speed Dating event tomorrow night. Say no more. Expat geeks galore? What do you reckon?
Then I'm meeting a strange Dutchman friend-of-a-friend who wants to take me to an 'alternative party' on Saturday night. I'm not sure what makes the alternative party 'alternative' here in Amsterdam, but I guess I'm going to find out. I'm hoping it has nothing to do with leather or wife-swapping.
Then there's the Dam Tot Dam on Sunday (if I survive the 'alternative party').
As I say, watch this space.
The massage is going well! My little cash tin is filling up and suddenly I find myself fully booked until a week monday. Not bad for three days work. At this rate I'll be able to afford to rent a nice new apartment in Amsterdam soon. The only downside is that I feel like I'm absorbing the entire company's tension into my own body.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Word of the Day
defenestrate \dee-FEN-uh-strayt\, transitive verb:
To throw out of a window.
I get a new word emailed to me every day. I particularly like today's and have decided to throw it casually into a conversation tomorrow. I may have to actually perform a blatant act of defenestration in order to have an excuse to use the word, but I promise to check first for unsuspecting passers by (I work on the sixth floor).
To throw out of a window.
I get a new word emailed to me every day. I particularly like today's and have decided to throw it casually into a conversation tomorrow. I may have to actually perform a blatant act of defenestration in order to have an excuse to use the word, but I promise to check first for unsuspecting passers by (I work on the sixth floor).
Public transport sucks
My journey home from work tonight...
1. Miss metro by 30 seconds
2. Wait for another metro
3. Get on this metro but get chucked off en route because it decides to terminate three stops up
4. Wait for another metro
5. Get on this metro and get to Centraal Station
6. Miss a train by 30 seconds
7. Hang around wasting time in the CD shop, eventually go to Albert Heijn to buy a bread roll (starving by now)
8. Wait while the assistant decides that the bread roll needs a price sticker.
9. Wait while the assistant calls someone over to examine the sticker-less bread roll
10. Wait while the assistants argue over which sticker should go on the bread roll
11. Wait while they finally agree upon a price and pay (the twenty or so people in the queue behind me are now tutting)
12. Run to train
13. Miss train by 30 seconds
14. Wait for another train and finally get on one.
15. Get off train and go to collect bike from the bike storage place
16. Manage to impale myself on bike handles as removing bike from rack. Get bruised ribs
17. Cycle home.
18. Spend ten minutes trying to get my key to work in the lock (new lock, new key, Max fitted it so doesn't work)
19. Finally opened door
20. Fell over step with bike. Bashed shin.
Glad to be home!
1. Miss metro by 30 seconds
2. Wait for another metro
3. Get on this metro but get chucked off en route because it decides to terminate three stops up
4. Wait for another metro
5. Get on this metro and get to Centraal Station
6. Miss a train by 30 seconds
7. Hang around wasting time in the CD shop, eventually go to Albert Heijn to buy a bread roll (starving by now)
8. Wait while the assistant decides that the bread roll needs a price sticker.
9. Wait while the assistant calls someone over to examine the sticker-less bread roll
10. Wait while the assistants argue over which sticker should go on the bread roll
11. Wait while they finally agree upon a price and pay (the twenty or so people in the queue behind me are now tutting)
12. Run to train
13. Miss train by 30 seconds
14. Wait for another train and finally get on one.
15. Get off train and go to collect bike from the bike storage place
16. Manage to impale myself on bike handles as removing bike from rack. Get bruised ribs
17. Cycle home.
18. Spend ten minutes trying to get my key to work in the lock (new lock, new key, Max fitted it so doesn't work)
19. Finally opened door
20. Fell over step with bike. Bashed shin.
Glad to be home!
Monday, September 15, 2003
Birthday Girl
Happy Birthday to my amazing-running-artistic-slightly mad-wheelchair pushing-yoga practising-lovely mum...
Here she is cultivating the 'Amsterdam' look during a recent visit
Here she is cultivating the 'Amsterdam' look during a recent visit
There and back again
I'm back in the Netherlands after a lovely week in Cornwall.
I've been sampling some delicious Rick Stein seafood, falling off surfboards, appreciating the 'aesthetic qualities' of the Cornish surf instructors in their wetsuits, feeling the sand between my toes and the sun on my face, drinking too much, eating too much, running a bit, photographing sunrises, enjoying the fantastic scenery, and generally having a blissful time.
Hit the ground running today - back at work and started my sports massage treatments. First customer was the Man with the Biggest Back in the World. This guy should be in the Guiness Book of Records, I'm not kidding. Felt the need to lie down afterwards.
Hope he doesn't read this....
I've been sampling some delicious Rick Stein seafood, falling off surfboards, appreciating the 'aesthetic qualities' of the Cornish surf instructors in their wetsuits, feeling the sand between my toes and the sun on my face, drinking too much, eating too much, running a bit, photographing sunrises, enjoying the fantastic scenery, and generally having a blissful time.
Hit the ground running today - back at work and started my sports massage treatments. First customer was the Man with the Biggest Back in the World. This guy should be in the Guiness Book of Records, I'm not kidding. Felt the need to lie down afterwards.
Hope he doesn't read this....
Sunday, September 07, 2003
Art Appreciation
I was travelling back from Gatwick on friday evening on a good-old British train (which was taking hours). I was sharing the carriage with a group of three teenage boys. They had invented a game which involved projecting Monster Munches across the aisle with a rolled up porn magazine. This made them all laugh like Beavis and Butthead. Once this game became boring, one of them grabbed a newspaper that had been left and decided he was going to do the crossword. The following conversation went something like this:
Boy 1: French artist?
Boy 2: Erm..... Leonardo Di Caprio?
Boy 3: No you ****, it's Leonardo Da Vinci
Boy 1: But it says here it's got five letters.
Boy 2: Er.... Dildo?
Good to see that the British educational system continues to improve.
Boy 1: French artist?
Boy 2: Erm..... Leonardo Di Caprio?
Boy 3: No you ****, it's Leonardo Da Vinci
Boy 1: But it says here it's got five letters.
Boy 2: Er.... Dildo?
Good to see that the British educational system continues to improve.
Baboons Noses in Amsterdam
Am in Portsmouth en route to Cornwall. Stopped in at my mum's and she gave me the following extract from the British papers. Another confirmation of the weirdness of Amsterdam...
Macabre Find in a Suitcase
Up to 20,000 baboon noses were found in a suitcase at Amsterdam's Schipol Airport.
They are believed to have been abandoned by a traveller from Nigeria who was en route to America and feared being caught with the grisly cargo.
The noses were probably intended to be eaten or used as traditional medicines, said Dutch customs officials.
Yes, I know this sounds like something out of Monty Python, but I promise it has been faithfully reproduced. Poor baboons...
Macabre Find in a Suitcase
Up to 20,000 baboon noses were found in a suitcase at Amsterdam's Schipol Airport.
They are believed to have been abandoned by a traveller from Nigeria who was en route to America and feared being caught with the grisly cargo.
The noses were probably intended to be eaten or used as traditional medicines, said Dutch customs officials.
Yes, I know this sounds like something out of Monty Python, but I promise it has been faithfully reproduced. Poor baboons...
Thursday, September 04, 2003
A different kind of surfing
I'm off on my holidays for a week tomorrow, so you won't see any postings from me for a few days.
I'm flying back to the UK for a bit of a chill-out time in Cornwall. Will be donning a wetsuit and trying not to look too foolish on a surfboard, making the most of the varied terrain for some last-minute Dam tot Dam training (the cloggies just don't do hills and I'm not sure my lungs will cope with any these days) and to stuff my face with pasties, chips and the odd cream tea to counteract all my good work. Sounds heavenly!
I'm flying back to the UK for a bit of a chill-out time in Cornwall. Will be donning a wetsuit and trying not to look too foolish on a surfboard, making the most of the varied terrain for some last-minute Dam tot Dam training (the cloggies just don't do hills and I'm not sure my lungs will cope with any these days) and to stuff my face with pasties, chips and the odd cream tea to counteract all my good work. Sounds heavenly!
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Milk Box
They let invalid carriage drivers use cycle paths here, but some of these vehicles are the strangest things. It's a weird feeling being tailed by an old lady driving a cross between a horsebox and a milk cart.
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