UnReSolved

I'm ill at home (a cold that walked up to the sinuses), but the fact that I feel good enough to do some blogging seems as a real 'getting-better'-sign to me. If I keep feeling this good I might even treat myself to a little walk to the ecological market where I can normally never go. My upstairs neighbour is at home so it sounds like someone is dragging furniture all over the place. That's what her being home sounds like most of the time. Even Henry, when he lived here, thought she makes a bloody hell of noice. So this judgement is not due to my sound-sensitivity. And I'm currently using some French rap to kill the building sounds coming from upstairs (Merci McSolaar).
Anyway, I should be back at work soon, but I'm not really looking forward to it. Demotivation is arround, there is a lot of complaining and I am not too sure if the management will be able to handle all the problems the organization currently faces. In a bigger organization such things do matter less for there are more people to share things with, but I am working with 4 colleagues of which one is my boss. Then such a situation can become pretty (de)pressing, which it is for me at the moment.
I am not too sure yet what to do with this situation. In essence I like the job I have. It is a great job for a starter on the labor market and there is a lot to learn from it for me. By accomplishing both projects (ending in early 2009) I would have a nice three years working experience during which I will really have done things (project management in an international environment, research, symposium organization, giving trainings, lobbying). But is the fact that this is a nice opportunity for a first job worth persisting to work in a negative environment? I don't know... I try to decide, telling myself I should give it some more time.
Meanwhile I am looking at job ads. I have to admit that I don't feel like applying for jobs. I can't stand the whole process of writing letters, interviews and eternal waiting for others to take decisions on my 'fate'. Also, there are the little devilish questions popping up in the back of my mind: will I be paid as much, will I have as many holidays, what if they ask me to move, what if the colleagues there turn out to be nasty, what if it will actually be worse somewhere else than here? Changing jobs has a lot of implications, especially since I 'just' established myself in this city, where my lease contract for my house stipulates that I'll be here for one year at least. Mmmm...
Maybe I'm also suffering from a late 'adjustment-crisis' to working life. The first half a year of my management job was marked by events, travel, new things, but the upcoming months present themselves as less exciting. Hardly any travel on the planning, stuck in the daily reality of work routines at our office in what must be one of the least inspiring towns in the Netherlands. Waah, what am I doing there? Emily writes me about getting back in school (she is in law school now), Mary writes about her Peace Corps work in Moldova, a former colleague writes about her life on a UN mission in Sudan... and that makes me want to get out there and do more for the world, feel more useful than I do now. I have to make up my mind... TBC; reactions are welcome.

On the couch

On the couch, in Remco's family home, Remco surfs to this blog, looks at me and says: " Nothing new on this blog..." "Well", I say, "let me fix that for you". So, Remco, once you'll be done with that phone conversation: this one is for you. ;)

When the Spirits roar

A Monday off! Wow, it is such a luxury to have a three-day weekend when working fulltime. Slowing down the pace, enjoying my home, the music playing, cooking and baking in the kitchen, reading, watched 'At five in the afternoon'. An impressive movie by Samira Makhmalbaf - it tells the story of Noqreh, a young Afghan woman who gets inspired by the idea of becoming Afghanistan's first female president, but she has to face the reality of a country destructed by war and a traditional and religious father instead. The images, made in Afghanistan after the fall of the Taliban regime, are so striking: dramatic, beautiful and awfully haunting at the same time. After watching it I sat in silent contemplation, close to meditation, alone in my home in the company of the sounds of a rainy night lit by candle light. This movie made my life in the Netherlands seem so, so little; of humble insignificance. Is that what I am currently doing in this world enough? Should I be here where I am right now? Am I doing the right thing? Am I in the right place? The nomad in me whispers soft tales of departure. That voice is here for some time already, growing stronger every week, seeding unrest in my heart, impatience running through my veins. The winds have changed.

Weird (2)

What is that thing called 'weird'? That weird, weird, weird weirdness haunting me...

Isn't it all about inconsistencies? Inconsistency with the normal. Inconsistency with the mainstream. Perceived weirdness is inconsistency in the eye of the beholder. Weirdness on the side of anyone except yourself is but an attributed value judgement.

'Weird' has so many different faces. It comes disguished as 'different in a refreshing way', knocking on your door on a boring afternoon. Bringing sparkles to your table, a glimmer in your eyes. It comes as a cold shower, hail pounding onto you: 'not normal enough in their eyes'. Out in the rain you feel alone, left alone. Weirdness often comes as an exclusion.

Exclusion, exclusion, exclusion... A drive for exclusion is fuelled by fears and insecurities. Fear of change. Insecurity about the validity of status quo. Fear to end up 'weird'. But to be 'weird' does not require much courage. To be labelled as 'weird' does ask for some more. It means standing strong in the face of adversary forces.

It takes most courage to label someone 'weird'. For only the person vulnerable enough to accept his or her own inconsistencies with that imagined mainstream knows the weight of the term and the responsability it entails. A value judgement is a choice after all...

*With love to my friends who to me are so different in their own refreshing ways. I miss you, I miss the sparks you leave on my table, the glimmer in your eyes, dudes & comrades!*

Ba-la-la-la-laika

After that phone call followed some more quality time with Eva, her sister and her brother. Yesterday evening I babysat the three of them, which most of the time turns into something hilarious around the dinner table. For the sake of the four of us I won't go into details here for their parents also know the address of this blog. ;)
Anyway, yesterday (after some raw garlic tasting by bro & sis upon my suggestion - very healthy for the system after all) I helped Eva get ready for bed. Instead of reading a bedtime story, we sung together. First she wanted me to sing songs that both she and I don't know (where is the logic in this one?). Then she disapproved of my repertoir of Dutch children songs. So I resorted to foreign language children songs. Not quite what she was looking for either. Finally I ended up singing the Dutch translation of a Russian drinking song, which I was taught in protestant elementary school (a pretty amazing theme for a song at a good christian school, indeed). There we were, on the top level of a bunk bed, singing about Ivanovich who should drink vodka (and no silly mixes of any kind!), dance and play the balaika (ba-la-la-la-laika) before he takes off on the troika the next morning. So much for some good old-fashioned cultural stereotypes (or intercultural competencies?!) learned just before bedtime.

Eva on the Phone - Why isn't this Pink?

After a lousy day at work (pooring rain outside, in need of a good hot chocolate, bored and cold onto my bones), there is nothing better than Eva who wants to talk with me on the phone.
She is back from her holiday. She saw Grandma. She has many pink things. What have I done during my holiday? I didn't have a holiday? Oh, doesn't matter, what did I do at home? Work? Yeah, and after work? Shopping. Great. What did I buy? A shirt. Is it pink? No, white. I should wear more pink. I should have bought a pink shirt. Oh, and do I know what Mum bought? These things; what are these things called again... Daddy, daddy, what are these things you can put on your shoulders called; these things Mum bought! Bras. Mum bought at least ten bras. Most of them white, but one in pink with little flowers. Yes, that is very cute. What else did I do after work? Which friends did I see? Henry, who is Henry? Did she already meet Henry? Ah, a boy. A big boy? A grown-up boy? Old? How old am I? Oh, and we should make apple pie. Eat it with whipped cream. At my new place, in my oven.
Eva is six years old and she knows exactly what she wants in life: lots of pink and sweet stuff. She is this little outstanding six-years young person who shares so much honesty, confidence and humor with me, and that is why she is so special to me. And upon seeing this post, she'd surely exclaim: "Why aren't you blogging in pink?!"

Weird

Moi: "I think this is a weird world we're living in". Answer to my statement on the world's weirdness: "Well, this world also thinks you're weird, Sanne".

Gay - gayer - gayest --> extended

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I gladly welcome you to the first edition of the already famous battle for the Mister or Miss Gay of the Universe title. The basic idea behind this rather arbitrary contest is pretty simple: the lady or gentlemen who persuades me - through real life actions, in their email or on their weblog - about their supreme gay status will become the proud owner of the afore-mentioned title.
The rules of the game are fairly simple. For every and any action judged gay enough in the absolutely subjective opinion of the jury (me of course), the participant can earn one point. The reason for the point earned will be described on this weblog. In the end (please note that the duration of the game depends on my not always impressive span of interest), the individual with most points takes it all and will be rewarded with a gay present from Dutch soil.
Participation in the contest is in principle voluntary, although I'm already planning to force some of you into it a bit less voluntary. Participation under a nickname is allowed, even encouraged. Some guessing will make it even more fun.

Please remember that the earlier you sign up,
the more time you will have to earn the points needed to become
MISS OR MISTER GAY OF THE UNIVERSE
and win that incredibly gay present from the Netherlands!

Gay - gayer - gayest

People, I need some enlightenment here. Is there a gay virus in the air lately? Is heterosexuality going out of fashion? Over the past year one after the other among my friends subtly or not so subtly let me know that they - matter of fact - are gay / have contemplated to completely or partly go gay / maybe are gay (you see that there is room for variety here). I think that out of solidarity (and also to stay up with possible fashionable tendencies) I'll proclame myself bi from here on.

Full Moon

At night/
creamy/
that round moon/
tangled shades/
off-white/
the witch in me/
went moon bathing/
she danced/
with secrets/
in the night/
shades of black/
shades of blue/
until the early morning dew/

... and the next morning tired at work...

Van Gogh and the Gay Pride Parade

Yesterday definitely was an interesting day. Remco and I had decided to go the Amsterdam Van Gogh Museum to see the Japanese Season exhibition. Coincidentially the Gay Pride Parade also took place and so we ended up going to the Gay Pride Parade and the Van Gogh Museum in one afternoon.
The Gay Pride Parade was pretty cool. People sat along the canals, on the bridges waiting for the boats to float by on the canals. The boats were decorated, loud music playing on most of them, with dressed up persons (presumeably gays and lesbians) dancing and drinking. The ambiance was great, we sat there laughing, applauding for the best boats, cheering at some, and all in the nice sunny weather. I really enjoyed it.
Always when I am in a place with a relatively high population with gays it strikes me how many good-looking gay men there are. Here it was the case again, both on the boats and among the audience! Many good-looking men of different ages... Oh boy, I wanted my pick-up line to be: "Ehm, are you sure you're gay? Because..." Well, check it out for yourself:

Pictures of the Gay Pride Parade can be accessed by clicking on the link underneath. Just for the peace of mind and sake of all of us, I'll repeat once more that some of these pics are a bit kinky (although no porn is involved). If you're under 18, this probably is a no go under the law of certain countries and if you're a bit of a sensitive mind in this field, I do not particularly advise you this Dutch liberty either... Now, don't say I didn't warn you, and CLICK HERE. ;)

For some more innocent pictures of Amsterdam (Museumplein) CLICK HERE.

After the parade we walked along the charming Amsterdam canals to the Van Gogh Museum, which is definitely one of my favorite spots in this city. We saw the Japanase Season exhibition, which is currently on show in the museum. The exhibition is divided in three sections. In the first part we saw art from the Meiji period. Meiji (1868 - 1912) was a Japanese emperor, known for his 'enlightened' rule. Japan opened up to the world during his rule and this entailed Japanese craftworks influencing European art (amongst others Van Gogh) and vice versa. We saw vases, lacquer ware and other crafts objects. Meanwhile the Japanese seasonal symbolism in art (e.g. cherry blossoms depicting springtime) was explained. Also, some of Van Gogh's reproductions of traditional Japanese prints hung next to the originals. And the funny thing is that Remco speaks and reads Japanese, so he told me that the 'Japanese' characters around Van Gogh's paintings were absolute crap - not Japanese to be more precise.
The second part of the exhibition is called Women from Tokyo and Paris. It is a small, but beautifully set up exposition outlining the lives of 19th century women in Tokyo and Paris. It draws on the similarities between the position of these women (particulary courtisanes, top-class prostitutes, geishas, and bourgeoisie women) in the larger societies of the époque.
The last part of the exhibition is about the Tokaido road. Nowadays it is a highway, and in the old days it used to be the principal road (between Tokyo and Kyoto) in feudal Japan. There are 53 official stations on the road. The Dutch photographer Guus Rijven traveled the road and took pictures in the 53 towns and villages. In the museum they hang alongside prints by Utagawa Hiroshige (1797-1858), who also depicted the road. The difference between the pictures and the prints is enormous. It is striking how this exposition shows that the Japanese have managed to put their - in the old days probably very charming - landscape full of harsh and ugly concrete, something I have heard from all my friends who lived there.

After the museum visit we stayed on Museumplein (Museum Square), which is one of my favorite spots in Amsterdam. You can relax in the soft, juicy green grass with great views all around. Remco and I ate a picknick dinner, enjoying the interesting mix of locals and tourists in this area.
After our dinner we took a good walk back to the main railway station, through that area that gives Amsterdam one of its many reputations, the red light district. I had never been in the one in Amsterdam, but I do have to say that this is the best red light district I have seen so far. Of course there are the women behind the small windows in the small streets and alleys. But this also is a neighborhood where people obviously go to socialize. The ambiance on this summer evening was terrific: here and there an after-party of the Gay Pride Parade (with here and there obscure things happening in these obscure, dirty back-alleys), foreigners smoking up in front of the coffee shops, locals sitting outside with a beer, small boats being steered through the canals that are all cute and small in this part of the city. There is the distinctive quality of real life with its bright and darker aspects in the air here. And this is one of the many reasons why I love Amsterdam.

At peace with the dust bunnies at home...

I have no travel plans for this summer. No backpacking, no 'significant holiday travel' coming up. But the summer is good here. Practically every weekend seems to be a little holiday. When Remco hangs out at my place time gets lost in space. Together with Henry I discover new, cool cafetarias, bars and restaurants. Talking with Alicia about all she could visit makes me think of going places in the Netherlands. I am with the expats here - and for me their life style is the best way possible in this country.
The knowledge that the association I work for schedules relocation to Brussels in December 2007 puts me at ease. I enjoy the Dutch summer of 2006 outside on the terasses, which are nothing like the courtyards in Kraków. I enjoy the old architecture and little streets of the city centre. No, they're nothing like Olomouc. I visit expositions that give me a hint of that big world out there. So do the books. So do the movies and documentaries on DVD.
It is painstakingly clear to me that I cannot be in this country forever. Too little amazes me; too many things drive me up the wall. My Dutch nationality is based on the historical accident that I was born in this country rather than in any other one. So I live out the life in this city for as long as it lasts, and meanwhile the dust bunnies at home can be at ease for I have no time to chase them...