Buzzkiller

Summer is here and the time is right for dancing in the street.

That's what you'd think anyway. However, due to extremely high temperatures little dancing is hapening in Amsterdam these days. Neither is a whole lot else; the majority of us are spending our days sweating, complaining about the heat and begging for rain. Occasionally our prayers come through, but unfortunately the Allmighty forgot to lower the temperatures (women, sigh) so the rain simply turnes to a steam-like substance.

The heat had some terrible side effects. A big walking event that usually lasts four days (aptly named "Four Dayer") in and around the Dutch city of Nijmegen was cancelled after 2 people died and 300 needed medical attention in some way after only day one. The event is walked by something like 70.000 people (or more... or less.... my research is so good on this blog) and the bottleneck of the day ended up being a several mile long dike that was completely shade-less. A reporter later on asked the mayor if the event shouldn't have been cancelled halfway through the day, but he seemed to not quite get that evecuating 70.000 people would take more time than letting them walk it out (you will be happy to know an official inquiry is held on how this event was organized).

Other events, such as a four day biking ride through Drenthe, have also been cancelled (there goes my tv watching schedule for the week!) while a six day beach walking tour will continue as scheduled. Since beaches notoriously have little shade I suspect a possible repeat of the Four Dayer disaster. (On a side note; although it's horrible for the families of the two people who passed away last week, anybody who goes walking for 7 hours with 35 degrees celcius in the open sun is mentally unstable in my humble opinion). But trust me when I say that all that is not the biggest problem this summer.

What really bugs me are the f-ing musquitos.

I think they were there last year, but I can't imagine there were as many as this year. Either that, or this is the first year that the Musquito Travel Guide mentioned the wonderful and laid-back atmosphere of my bedroom, where there are not only beautiful walls to stand up against, but also free drinks from a guy who sleeps in his underwear (too much info?).

Whatever may be the case, the past few weeks I have spent my nights in bed trying frantically to sleep despite the heat. And pretty much every night, just when I'm about to doze off I hear a "Mzzzzzzz" sound going around my head. At first I try to ignore it, thinking "Oh well, it's only a bit of itching", but then the "Mzzzzz"-ing gets louder, and louder, untill it gets so loud that I'm convinced the mosquito is actually sitting inside my ear screaming his Mzzzzzing sound as if he's a fan at a Metallica concert.

And so I jump out of bed, turn on the light, wait for my vision to come and start hunting for the little black spots on the wall that I can hit. Which is not easy since I have killed a lot of mosquitos lately and my walls begin to look like the first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan for insects. When I finally do find the little bastard, the trick is to kill it before it can fly off. If I succeed I can then sleep peacefully, but if it flies away, the result is a minute long chase of my trying to grab it somewhere in midair.

So... my biggest fear this summer?

That the neighbors across from me can look into my place and see me run around in my underwear moving in very mysterious ways and shouting "Die! Die you [expletive deleted]". It just can't look pretty.

Catch my dissease

I'm realizing more and more that I just can't leave this country alone can I? This idea already entered my head a few years ago when I was in Italy for two weeks and on my return discovered that a 60 year old hairy man hosting a house make-over show was suddenly in the center of a sex scandal. It was one of these moment where you stand in front of your TV and all you can say is "QUE??".

This year I left for two weeks and when I returned the government had collapsed. When I left Israel had started peace talks with the Palistinians again and now its practically war. In June all buildings in Amsterdam seemed moderately safe and now an appartment building in the west of Amsterdam has been evacuated because it might be unstable and could practically collapse at any moment.

I can handle all of that because it barely concerns me in everyday life but now something else has been added to it; the Veterans Dissease (TA!DA!DA!DAAAAH!). So far one person has died (a senior citizen, old people can get it the easiest) and in total 24 have been diagnosed with it, in just one week.

I believe the English name is probably different from how the Dutch call it (which is... The Veterans Dissease ( TA! DA! DA! DAAAAAH!)) but I believe it comes down to the following; if water is polluted with some kind of buglike thing (which is the technical term, trust me) it can transcend this dissease through the air. For that to happen the water needs to be transported through the above mentioned air in tiny drops, either as steam or... as... other versions of tiny drops of water.

I so missed my calling in the field of natural science.

Anyhoo, this means that all steam rooms, fountains and cooling towers in the city are in theory deadly weapons of waterdropification (again, technical term) meaning I have to avoid those. Also, it means that every time I sneeze I am afraid that I will have to start making up that funeral song list (see way back).

It's not easy being me.

Calcio

Last wednesday I was in Bologna watching the last thirty minutes of the half finale of the world football championship between Germany and Italy on a big square (not surprisingly the Italian name for the square therefore was "big square") in the center of the city. The crowd existed of Italians from all walks of life: members of all age groups were present (although the famous Bolognese Centennials With Heart Conditions group wisely remained at home) to enjoy what could be Italy's way into the final.

And I was there too. Being Dutch and not a big football fan at first I felt like I was present at a birthday party where I knew only the birthee (it's a word, trust me) and was present while a lot of urgent family matters were discussed. There wasn't just tension in the air, the entire match was loudly commented on by everybody present. Every move the Italians or Germans or the referee made was either applauded (Si! Vai! Bene!) or condemned (No! Sei Pazzo! Bastardo!). This in itself is not unique: my father (a big football fan) tends to talk to the referee and the man doing the commentary - despite me explaining time after time that TV is not a two-way medium. These Italians however, were far more enthusiastic.

Before the game I had been in doubt who I wanted to win. The Dutch by definition dislike the Germans (nothing personal, the Belgiums hate us) and they tend to win in the last minute which the rest of the world finds terribly unfair unless their team does it. On the other hand, Italians (despite the fact that I love them to death) get terribly annoying when their team wins something.

I still wasn't sure while standing in that crowd. It was still 0-0 when we arrived and, although I was hanging towards supporting Italy, I couldn't help but shake off this mean idea in the back of my mind:

It would be so much fun to see this crowd in pain.

I know it's childish, and I'm not proud, but I couldn't help it. It just would have been so interesting to feel the dissapointment, to hear to shouting and the screaming. Also, it would have enabled me to pick up quite a few Italian cursewords that might come in hand later.

Thankfully my Italian loving side took over quickly (leaving my dark side in the back of my skull hoping for a car crash to happen) and soon I "Vaaaaaai!"-ed along as Italian as I could. Which - granted - isn't very Italian but darn it I tried. In between I videotaped the crowds reactions, but sadly I forgot to turn the camera on when the two goals were made at the end of the extra time but the total joy that everybody (including me) felt when the Italians finally scored was unforgettable.

As was the honking, screaming and shouting that continued until 4 in the morning. God knows how long they'll party after tonight. Eitherhoo: Congrats Italy!

Traveling Band

I'm about to embark on an epic journey. Which, in normal people's language, comes down to me going to Bologna for a week and a half. This means that (1) I'm going to be sweating my ass off for 11 days, (2) that I will be majorly dissapointed - yet again - in the quality of Italian record stores specifically due to the lack of Zucchero-stuff-I-don't-already-own they won't have in stock and (3) I won't be blogging in that period (it also means I can work up new frustrations with traveling, planes, trains, politics - not really related but it just happens - and Italian guys, to write about later).

And it means that before leave monday I need to go through both my To Pack and my To Do list. The To Do list includes everything that has to be done for the world not to go to damnation (obviously with 'the world' I mean my life specifically, if I'd care for the world I'd recycle) in the time I will not be in the country. This list contains such timeless classics as "buy shoes", "buy clothes", "e-mail professor" and "find place to live in Zeeland" and, perhaps excluding the last one, should be no problem.

The To Pack list is a lot more important. It is important because it needs to be done right or else I'll spent the first four days of my vacation thinking "I know I forgot to pack something!" the fifth day finally realizing which item I've forgotten and the last six days thinking "Why the hell did I forget [insert item]???". Even if it is a totally meaningless thing, I'd still be left feeling the trip would have been so much memorable if I hadn't forgotten my toothbrush.

Granted, things have gotten easier throughout the years. In 2001, when I went on a vacation with friends for the first time we spent weeks e-mailing eachother on who should bring which CD, and once in Italy we spent days looking for a boombox (we found one that was extremly expensive and utter crap). Thankfully, I now have a (also pretty crappy) Mp3 player to help me through that, but unfortunately it runs on batteries. (Ooh! I have to bring batteries with me!)

Books remain a hazzard however as are remembering to bring my mobile phone, the thing that puts power into my mobile phone (which reminds me the position of being my human dictionary is still open, everybody that looks like Orlando Bloom is welcome to apply), my toothpaste, my shampoo, shower gel, flight information, telephone numbers, cash etc.

Anyway, the big "What Will Boris Forget?" game is open from now on, good luck on betting.

Football

I got a text message from my friend Becky yesterday evening about the Football World Cup. The Netherlands was playing and she informed me that she was watching the game with her boyfriend Elvin (the otherwise nice guy who my friends might also know as "The Cuban" (he's actually from Puorto Rico... or Mexico... or Hong Kong or something) or "The Guy Who Shot A Rubber Band At My Face In A Milan Airport" (bitter? I'm not bitter) ) and her grandparents.

I'm not sure about her grandpa, but her grandma is a huge Netherlands fan. I am not one hundred percent sure about how much (if any) Dutch blood she has in her, but despite being an American she is more nationalistic about the Netherlands than anybody I know here. She loves us. She loves our food (love makes blind), she loves our countryside, she loves our music and she loves our football. Becky informed me that she was wearing, and I quote, a "crazy windmill hat in Dutch colors" (not trying to be too specific here, but are there windmill hats in Dutch colors that aren't crazy?). I texted her back saying that if the hat won't make us win, than I don't know what would.

The reply came quickly and read "She laughed and asked why you took your eyes away from the TV!". Which is sort of the problem. The game was on, but at the same time I was watching Der Untergang on my notebook (great combi really). You see, I am not a big football fan. Usually I can get away with that quite easily, all I have to do is start myself up with hooligans, government money being pumped into big football clubs and before you know it the rant automatically moves to anti-gay slogans, too much media attention and "general pathetic behaviour".

But during the World Cup, this is a bit more difficult. Basically, it's considered treason and although there's no death penalty for it (yet), it will make your social life a lot more difficult. During parties, most lunches, or general conversations with family members (I tend to select friends on them not talking about football) football pops up everywhere.

I personally have found a way out of this problem, by using one simple catchphrase that will get you through discussing every football match you did not see:

(ready)

(here it comes)

REFEREE!!!

Say it like something horrible has been done to your cat by the person in question and the other people in the group will knod knowingly and say "God did you see that..... blablablayadayadayada", after that all you have to do is agree wholeheartedly with the man with the biggest beer belly (he knows best, he clearly spends the most time getting drunk while watching other men be active). Use the force wisely my children.

(Oh, and the end score was 2;1 yesterday, all goals were made in the first halve, the Netherlands weren't playing that great and spent most of the second halve defending which - if you ask me - is always a very unwise thing to do. )

On/Off

I appear to have been dumped yesterday night.

Well, technically it wasn't "dumping" because for that to happen you need to be in a relationship, it was more a situation of ripping the unborn foetus of a potential relationship from the save womb that was two dates (three if you count the pre-date, which technically you can't 'cause it's a pre-date) and leaving it on the cold floor, waiting for its little heart to explode (why am I pro-choice again).

Yes, indeed. He wants to be friends.

Actually, I have no right to complain since (1) the guy in question is really nice and its always best to just be open and fair about these things and (2) I once just stopped answering calls and text messages from a guy I did not really like (I panicked! Stop judging me!), but I think we can safely say that when something like this happens to me, it's much sadder by definition.

It's not like I was head-over-heels-LAYLA!-YOU-GOT-ME-ON-MY-KNEES-take-me!-take-me-here-and-now!-YOU'RE-BEAUTIFUL!-YOU'RE-BEAUTIFUL-IT'S-TRUE! in love with him, but the common sense part of my brain figured that any person you can discuss Gilmore Girls with for an entire hour is someone at least worth considering to have a crush on.

And so, as I was walking home (Sarah Jessica Parker refuses to answer my calls, but when she does she's going to do the voice-over part there) with a rather depressed mood taking over I came up with a rather novel idea:

Dear God/Allah/Buddah/Elvis, could we arrange for my feelings to have an on/off button? Because quite frankly I'm through (this is where Tina Turner takes over and Oprah stands in the background saying "You go girl!")

I'm through feeling alone
I'm through feeling sorry for myself because I feel alone
I'm through wondering if I'm doing stuff right
and for fucks sake
I'm through having crushes on people who don't love me.

Can I get an AMEN people?

Mirror

Last Tuesday I went to see Kees van Kooten. If you’re American you’ll have no idea who I’m talking about, but if you’re Dutch you legally have to, and good manners should make you envy me. Van Kooten used to make tv sketch shows with a guy called Wim de Bie and they were must see tv for the entire country on Sunday night. Unfortunately they stopped some years ago, but van Kooten has recently released a book with his favourite American and English short funny stories.

These stories (think David Sedaris but he’s not in there for some reason) are all “little man” humour and based upon the stupid things men and women (but lets face it, mostly men) do to themselves and others. Stupid things like trying to open a bank account but getting so nervous you screw it up. Or making a complete mess out of somebody else’s medicine cabinet. They’re stories that make you laugh (reeeaaally hard), but at the same time you know that it so could happen to you.

One of the stories he read from was by an American author in the early 20th century (I think) who wrote a piece about him punishing objects that hurt him; if he walks into a door he decided to ‘hurt’ it back by slapping it. You know that a door can’t feel pain, but yet you automatically put human emotions into it; How dare you attack me! I never did anything to you! *BANG* Feel my wrath!. It’s weird but not uncommon; dogs think all other animals are dogs too (which is why they find horses so scary yet attractive), and I spent a few years in high school sitting next to a friend of mine who tried to make his pencilcase open and close itself (he claimed he was kidding, but honestly who was he kidding).

Anyway, I found the hurt-non-living things very fitting to how I felt about the mirror in my parents bedroom this evening.

I have a date (it’s not really a date actually: the date is on Sunday but we decided that we should have a pre-date get together so that we can see if we scare each other to death… and seeing that he’s the cuter one, with “we” I mean “I” and with “each other” I mean “him”) in exactly 1 hour and 45 minutes and my face looks puffy, my hair like crap and my clothes look funny. And while I’m standing in front of the mirror, being absolutely convinced the guy I have a date with is going to run off screaming, I can’t help but think at the mirror:

“Traitor! We bought this place you know! You’d be nothing without us! MAKE ME LOOK LIKE ORLANDO BLOOM!”

Guess what, didn’t work. Anyhoo, wish me good luck.

Vote or Die

Dutch universities have student bodies. Like most student bodies in the Netherlands, they have no power whatsoever, nobody knows who's in them, what they do all day and if they actually achieve anything. So, a bunch of lazy students (ehm... active students with an interest in their environment) take part in it and the rest of us don´t care. Spins like a kitten on drugs.

One flaw in the situation: the lazy sons or daughters of bitches need to be chosen.

I guess they could have solved it with a game of cards or a duel but that would have been too easy and therefore once a year university wide elections are being held. So far so good, aside from the fact that to have elections you need voters, and that's where the plot thickens.

Last year only 17% of students at the University of Amsterdam voted, and that is one of the lowest turnouts in the country. I believe this is mostly because the Amsterdam student bodies are among the most invisible, although the fact that we Amsterdam students actually have a life (unlike those damn Leiden people) might also play a part.

Personally, I like politics and I feel you should always vote, if only to be able to feel utterly betrayed by your political party the day after the results are announced, but I generally can't be bothered to vote for these student bodies either. Last year I felt guilty and did vote, but I voted on the guy with the nicest smile on the posters so I'm not sure that's how the system is supposed to be. This year again none of my friends are candidates (all: yeey!) so I'm down again to having to pick one of the 40 total unknowns on the different lists.

Crap.

Anyway, I went through all the candidates' descriptions of themselves and managed to pick out two. Since none of the candidates really had any surprising points (more freedom! more vacation! more money!) it's down to looks and general writing skills again.

(drum roll)
Candidate 1:


- pro's; seems to want to make studying more difficult.
- con's: studies language (not a language but language in general), which can't be good. Also, is member of a party that my buddy the Squirrel describes as 'the cool kids'
- not sure yet: makes word jokes



Candidate 2:



- pro's: history student (we's smart folk you know), also made the effort to make up a big comparison between a university and flying an airplane
- con's: made up a big comparison between a university and an airplane
- not sure yet: independent candidate. feels like throwing away your vote doesn't it?



So to make it all as democratic as possible; faithul readers (that would be you Merel and Jari) can vote which of the two and then I'll probably ignore the result but at least we had fun.