At badminton I'm usually referred to as 'Jackie'. Originally this reminded me of primary school, but I've come to see it as being a sign of affection for the 'English guy' (although I can now count to 21 in Dutch quite confidently, not that my score ever gets up that high). However, today my instructor used my surname, or close, when he called me O'Connan. After, he took my aside and asked me if I was Scottish. I assured him that I was English, that I hadn't been misleading them, and that my surname was in fact Welsh. This he thought was quite funny, all the more so when I told him that O'Connan, as he thought, would in fact be quite Cornish (my old very Cornish tutor being a Conan) - which would have been more appropriate seeing as that's where I live. Ah, small things.
This afternoon I had to present an oral argument on why there's no right to an abortion in the US Constitution. I always doubt that I'll enjoy doing that sort of thing, but I got quite into it once I got started and I thought I'd made a few decent points. Afterwards a Greek classmate came up to me and told me how much she loved by English accent, and that I could work in voice overs. So, it doesn't seem to matter what I say, just so long as I say it in a English accent. Perhaps Stephen Fry was right after all!
30/05/2007
29/05/2007
Fitting it all in
Today I made a mistake, well, no actually it wasn't a mistake, but I didn't expect to do it nonetheless. When I first realised that my rent was due to run out on the 15th July, but that my courses would end around the 30th June, I set about planning what to do in those two weeks and came up with quite a thought out plan to travel around Scandinavia. However, when I moved room in January I changed the end date of my rental to the 30th June, which scotched the plan - although I've still got the map I sketched out as a reminder of what might have been.
Anyway, I've hit upon the possibly slightly unwise policy of trying to get all of my work for the year done by the 16th June - the date I come back to the the UK for a week to visit Bath and Cambridge. This means that I'll be back in Cambridge one with the other people who've finished, but it also means that I've a rather hectic couple of weeks coming up writing my paper and getting ready for my oral exam. The upshot though is that, should I succeed, I'll have a week here at the end of June with nothing scheduled.
I'd had a few thoughts on what to do in that week, but today, out of curiosity I popped into the ticket office at the train station to find out how much a trip to Copenhagen would be. The idea being that if I couldn't do the whole of Scandinavia, I could do a little bit of it instead. I hadn't intended to buy anything - especially seeing how I haven't even confirmed that I can get all of my work done before going back to Cambridge - but, of course, I did end up buying a ticket. The lady assured me that it was a 'special price' and that it wouldn't be around for long. The fact that I get to travel on one of those fancy German trains secured the deal, so I'm now off to Copenhagen for three days the day after I get back from Cambridge, which rather puts paid to Berlin being my last trip.
It also means that I really had better get on with getting all of my work done, else I might well be taking a laptop and a few books to Cambridge and Copenhagen, which won't be that much fun. But that's not going to stop me from going to watch the Apprentice now.
Anyway, I've hit upon the possibly slightly unwise policy of trying to get all of my work for the year done by the 16th June - the date I come back to the the UK for a week to visit Bath and Cambridge. This means that I'll be back in Cambridge one with the other people who've finished, but it also means that I've a rather hectic couple of weeks coming up writing my paper and getting ready for my oral exam. The upshot though is that, should I succeed, I'll have a week here at the end of June with nothing scheduled.
I'd had a few thoughts on what to do in that week, but today, out of curiosity I popped into the ticket office at the train station to find out how much a trip to Copenhagen would be. The idea being that if I couldn't do the whole of Scandinavia, I could do a little bit of it instead. I hadn't intended to buy anything - especially seeing how I haven't even confirmed that I can get all of my work done before going back to Cambridge - but, of course, I did end up buying a ticket. The lady assured me that it was a 'special price' and that it wouldn't be around for long. The fact that I get to travel on one of those fancy German trains secured the deal, so I'm now off to Copenhagen for three days the day after I get back from Cambridge, which rather puts paid to Berlin being my last trip.
It also means that I really had better get on with getting all of my work done, else I might well be taking a laptop and a few books to Cambridge and Copenhagen, which won't be that much fun. But that's not going to stop me from going to watch the Apprentice now.
27/05/2007
Ich bin ein Berliner!
Oh yes. Earlier this morning I returned from spending the past two days in Berlin on something of a whirlwind trip. But what a whirlwind. In a word, Berlin is wunderbar. In fact, it's one of the only places I've visited this year where I came away wishing I'd spent longer there.
Although, I almost didn't get there at all. I had mistakenly thought that border checks between European Union countries were a thing of the past, so I was slightly bemused to find our coach being boarded by German immigration officials asking for passports. By way of scene-setting, I've travelled between Spain and Portugal on a coach and I did not need my passport. I've travelled between the Netherlands, France, Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany on the train, and I did not need my passport. Even when I flew from Malaga to Amsterdam I did not need to show my passport. So here I was, on a coach being passport checked, without my passport. Problem. The German immigration lady was less than impressed.
"Where is your passport?",
"Err...",
"Where is your ID card?",
"Err, well I have my drivers license?",
"No good.",,
"But it's good in the UK, and it's all I have.",
"Where do you live?",
"Err, well in the Netherlands, but I'm English",
"Why are you travelling?",
"Just for a two day holiday." [in a regretful tone of voice]
"[With eye-brow impressively raised] I see, are you alone? Where are your bags? Are you carrying drugs; marijuana, hash, cannabis, weapons?"
And so it went on. After emptying the contents of my bag she apparently reached the conclusion that I was just a rather silly Englishman, but only after taking away my drivers license for 'checking', whatever that means. A part of me rather hopes that my name is now on some sort of European watch-list ready to flag me up the next time I try to illicitly cross a border. By contrast, the Dutch didn't even bother to stop us on the way back.
I don't quite know what it was about Berlin that I found so appealing, but almost right away I knew that I was going to like it. I hadn't a clue what to expect though. Berlin often seems like the forgotten city of Europe - everyone talks about Paris, London, Amsterdam ad Prague etc, but Berlin doesn't often seem to get a look in, so I thought it might seem a little hollow, but it really didn't.
One thing I had expected to be more evident was the distinction between the old east and west parts of the city. All of the maps highlight where the Wall was, but for the most part, I wouldn't have been able to tell if no-one had told me. Checkpoint Charlie for instance is little more than a hut surrounding my tourist touts. In fact, there's hardly anything left of the Wall at all. A part of me found that a little sad. I can't imagine what it must have been like to have lived there during the occupation, but tearing down the Wall would probably have been one of the first things I'd have wanted to do. But there's no denying that the Wall is one of the most significant structures of the 20th century, and for less than a mile to still survive is a shame. That said, the main surviving part has been turned into a graffiti art gallery, which is quite powerful in itself.
I basically spent the two days just walking around taking in the main sights, and Berlin has plenty to see. It's probably one of the more ornate cities that I've been too, but for a reconstructed city, there's little of the obvious modern buildings that blighted Cologne and it seems that things have been restored rather than rebuilt in most cases, and it works.
I think the Reichstag has to win my award for most-impressive Parliament building of the year. Most of the one's I've seen so far have been pretty austere, but humble, the former could apply here, but not the latter, but that doesn't make it seem overwrought. It's impressively open as well, with the glass dome and roof being open free of charge, from where you can look down into the debating chamber.
One thing that Germany does well very are railway stations. I mentioned a little in my Cologne entry, but they're more than just places where the train stops, you could practically live in most of the German stations I've used, and you could spend a day in most just wandering around. Take the new Berlin central station, they moved the river, landscaped a whole swath of land and held a grand opening ceremony for it. I can't quite see us doing the same when they finally takes the wraps off St Pancras.
I hadn't really expected to eat that well while I was there, but apart from having more wurst than can possibly be good for me, I was (un)lucky to visit on the same day as the final of the German football championship, so there were stalls all over the city selling all manner of things. I even popped into the German version of Harrods where I had the pleasure of sitting next to one of the most obnoxious 'I've more money than braincells' Englishman I think I've come across - I even apologised to the waitress on his behalf. That was also the only time when my German badly let me down. I tried to ask for something in German, which didn't fly, so I said it in English and asked how to say it in German, this just confused things more, until even asking in plain English didn't work. Alas, still some work to do there.
Unfortunately the weather decided to play cat and mouse with me on both days with me finding myself caught in two rather impressive thunderstorms on both evenings - the first time without an umbrella or jacket - despite it being bright sunshine in the day at 32C. On the second day I was slightly more prepared, but not for the length of the downpour (I spent 45 minutes under a window sill waiting for it to 'blow over'. But at least the light after a thunderstorm is always impressive enough to make up for the storm itself.
Another day would have been perfect, and it was a shame that I had to get back on the bus (although getting to whisper-sing 'happy birthday' to a Canadian at midnight was quite entertaining).
It's odd, but being in Berlin for two days made me more passionate about learning German properly, than being in the Netherlands for nine months has made me want to learn Dutch. There's something about being able to try and talk to people in their own language, and it can be pretty fun as well, and there's a good feeling of achievement whether it works or not. I won't come away from this year speaking Dutch, or even better German than I did at the start, but perhaps I've sown some seeds. But I do know for sure that I'm not done with Germany.
Although, I almost didn't get there at all. I had mistakenly thought that border checks between European Union countries were a thing of the past, so I was slightly bemused to find our coach being boarded by German immigration officials asking for passports. By way of scene-setting, I've travelled between Spain and Portugal on a coach and I did not need my passport. I've travelled between the Netherlands, France, Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany on the train, and I did not need my passport. Even when I flew from Malaga to Amsterdam I did not need to show my passport. So here I was, on a coach being passport checked, without my passport. Problem. The German immigration lady was less than impressed.
"Where is your passport?",
"Err...",
"Where is your ID card?",
"Err, well I have my drivers license?",
"No good.",,
"But it's good in the UK, and it's all I have.",
"Where do you live?",
"Err, well in the Netherlands, but I'm English",
"Why are you travelling?",
"Just for a two day holiday." [in a regretful tone of voice]
"[With eye-brow impressively raised] I see, are you alone? Where are your bags? Are you carrying drugs; marijuana, hash, cannabis, weapons?"
And so it went on. After emptying the contents of my bag she apparently reached the conclusion that I was just a rather silly Englishman, but only after taking away my drivers license for 'checking', whatever that means. A part of me rather hopes that my name is now on some sort of European watch-list ready to flag me up the next time I try to illicitly cross a border. By contrast, the Dutch didn't even bother to stop us on the way back.
I don't quite know what it was about Berlin that I found so appealing, but almost right away I knew that I was going to like it. I hadn't a clue what to expect though. Berlin often seems like the forgotten city of Europe - everyone talks about Paris, London, Amsterdam ad Prague etc, but Berlin doesn't often seem to get a look in, so I thought it might seem a little hollow, but it really didn't.
One thing I had expected to be more evident was the distinction between the old east and west parts of the city. All of the maps highlight where the Wall was, but for the most part, I wouldn't have been able to tell if no-one had told me. Checkpoint Charlie for instance is little more than a hut surrounding my tourist touts. In fact, there's hardly anything left of the Wall at all. A part of me found that a little sad. I can't imagine what it must have been like to have lived there during the occupation, but tearing down the Wall would probably have been one of the first things I'd have wanted to do. But there's no denying that the Wall is one of the most significant structures of the 20th century, and for less than a mile to still survive is a shame. That said, the main surviving part has been turned into a graffiti art gallery, which is quite powerful in itself.
I basically spent the two days just walking around taking in the main sights, and Berlin has plenty to see. It's probably one of the more ornate cities that I've been too, but for a reconstructed city, there's little of the obvious modern buildings that blighted Cologne and it seems that things have been restored rather than rebuilt in most cases, and it works.
I think the Reichstag has to win my award for most-impressive Parliament building of the year. Most of the one's I've seen so far have been pretty austere, but humble, the former could apply here, but not the latter, but that doesn't make it seem overwrought. It's impressively open as well, with the glass dome and roof being open free of charge, from where you can look down into the debating chamber.
One thing that Germany does well very are railway stations. I mentioned a little in my Cologne entry, but they're more than just places where the train stops, you could practically live in most of the German stations I've used, and you could spend a day in most just wandering around. Take the new Berlin central station, they moved the river, landscaped a whole swath of land and held a grand opening ceremony for it. I can't quite see us doing the same when they finally takes the wraps off St Pancras.
I hadn't really expected to eat that well while I was there, but apart from having more wurst than can possibly be good for me, I was (un)lucky to visit on the same day as the final of the German football championship, so there were stalls all over the city selling all manner of things. I even popped into the German version of Harrods where I had the pleasure of sitting next to one of the most obnoxious 'I've more money than braincells' Englishman I think I've come across - I even apologised to the waitress on his behalf. That was also the only time when my German badly let me down. I tried to ask for something in German, which didn't fly, so I said it in English and asked how to say it in German, this just confused things more, until even asking in plain English didn't work. Alas, still some work to do there.
Unfortunately the weather decided to play cat and mouse with me on both days with me finding myself caught in two rather impressive thunderstorms on both evenings - the first time without an umbrella or jacket - despite it being bright sunshine in the day at 32C. On the second day I was slightly more prepared, but not for the length of the downpour (I spent 45 minutes under a window sill waiting for it to 'blow over'. But at least the light after a thunderstorm is always impressive enough to make up for the storm itself.
Another day would have been perfect, and it was a shame that I had to get back on the bus (although getting to whisper-sing 'happy birthday' to a Canadian at midnight was quite entertaining).
It's odd, but being in Berlin for two days made me more passionate about learning German properly, than being in the Netherlands for nine months has made me want to learn Dutch. There's something about being able to try and talk to people in their own language, and it can be pretty fun as well, and there's a good feeling of achievement whether it works or not. I won't come away from this year speaking Dutch, or even better German than I did at the start, but perhaps I've sown some seeds. But I do know for sure that I'm not done with Germany.
20/05/2007
A life on the enclosed sea
Until yesterday, the last time I set foot in a sailing boat was ten years ago when I was an eleven year-old participant on my school's Year 6 activities camp. There was a very good reason for this decade long hiatus; the fact that it left me petrified of sailing. It's impossible to convey how much I hated the experience, but it meant that I restricted myself to rather larger vessels of the ferry variety, which I still find bad enough. But after yesterday I have to say that I'm wondering what I've been missing out on.
This ESN activity proved a little more popular than the last, and Sophie, Chloe and I, plus 28 others boarded the bus to the Loosdrechtse Plassen, a collection of lakes and waterways halfway between Amsterdam and Utrecht to spend the day sailing around the area. Ironically it turned out that this place was the same place where I took the wrong turn on my cycle to Amsterdam, leading to an odd sense of deja-vu until it clicked. We started off the day in little motorised boats which were pretty fun and quite nippy considering their size.
Luckily we had someone who knew where they were going, and we motored through the waterways for a couple of hours, through a couple of locks and had a few games of cat and mouse with some rather larger yachts. Despite a few minor collisions here and there (both with other boats and the riverbank) we found the island that had been set aside for our picnic lunch and recuperated before swapping over to a sailing boat.
I had considered offering to stay in the motorboat as there were a few too many of us, but I'm oh-so glad that I didn't, for the sailing boat was just fantastic. It was larger than the one that scarred me when I was eleven, and it was just so relaxing to be on it out in the lake.
Obviously it helped having someone who knew what they were doing on board, but everyone took part in steering and rope puling etc and yes, I was a little disappointed not to have been able to spend longer out there (although on returning home and seeing my delightful sunburn, it's probably a good job it ended when it did!). For €9 for the day, I don't think I could have asked for more.
The Loosdrechtse Plassen is a lovely area, and it was a beautiful day for it. There were hundreds of people out and about, sailing, rowing, fishing, sunbathing etc and everything just felt so peaceful.
It's safe to say that I've well and truly put the last ten years behind me!
This ESN activity proved a little more popular than the last, and Sophie, Chloe and I, plus 28 others boarded the bus to the Loosdrechtse Plassen, a collection of lakes and waterways halfway between Amsterdam and Utrecht to spend the day sailing around the area. Ironically it turned out that this place was the same place where I took the wrong turn on my cycle to Amsterdam, leading to an odd sense of deja-vu until it clicked. We started off the day in little motorised boats which were pretty fun and quite nippy considering their size.
Luckily we had someone who knew where they were going, and we motored through the waterways for a couple of hours, through a couple of locks and had a few games of cat and mouse with some rather larger yachts. Despite a few minor collisions here and there (both with other boats and the riverbank) we found the island that had been set aside for our picnic lunch and recuperated before swapping over to a sailing boat.
I had considered offering to stay in the motorboat as there were a few too many of us, but I'm oh-so glad that I didn't, for the sailing boat was just fantastic. It was larger than the one that scarred me when I was eleven, and it was just so relaxing to be on it out in the lake.
Obviously it helped having someone who knew what they were doing on board, but everyone took part in steering and rope puling etc and yes, I was a little disappointed not to have been able to spend longer out there (although on returning home and seeing my delightful sunburn, it's probably a good job it ended when it did!). For €9 for the day, I don't think I could have asked for more.
The Loosdrechtse Plassen is a lovely area, and it was a beautiful day for it. There were hundreds of people out and about, sailing, rowing, fishing, sunbathing etc and everything just felt so peaceful.
It's safe to say that I've well and truly put the last ten years behind me!
19/05/2007
Yesterday; a postscript
After cheese in the morning, and a Biblical Ark in the afternoon, I would have been quite contended to conclude the day there, but as Schagen was quite a way from Utrecht I'd decided to stop off in Amsterdam on the way home. There's a time to visit Amsterdam, and it's probably not at 5pm on a Friday afternoon, but nonetheless I battled the crowds to get done what I needed to do, and have the time left over to visit a place that had been recommended to me by an Amsterdam insider as serving the best appeltaart in the country.
Now, before coming to the Netherlands I wasn't the biggest fan of baked apples, in fact, I didn't really like them. That had to change however, for in most of my 'lucky-dip' patisserie ventures, whatever I pick usually ends up having some sort of apple filling, and hence, I've learned to appreciate such things, but I'm no expert. However, I can safely say that this taart was well worth the trip and it even beat the appelbollen that I've become so fond of in Graff Floris here in Utrecht. I'm not usually in the habit of photographing my food, but I just had to share this monster with you all to let you know what you're missing wherever else you are.
For those curious, the cafe was confusingly named 'Winkel' (which translates as 'shop') and was in the Jourdaan. I also picked up a cookery book which among other things gives me a photographic step-by-step guide to preparing an octopus, but I think I'll be sticking with the appeltaart for the time being.
After all of that, I did indeed conclude the day by getting back on the train to Utrecht, but the day wasn't done with me. Later that evening I heard some loud music from outside my window and was confronted with a rather unusual sight.
It was one of those "Surely there can't be any more?" moments when they just kept on coming and coming for a good couple of minutes. Where they came from, where they went, and why they came and went, I've no idea, but about ten minutes later a motorcade of five ambulances, two police cars and one fire engine sped past sirens blazing, so I just hope the two weren't related.
Needless to say, I slept reasonably well yesterday night.
Now, before coming to the Netherlands I wasn't the biggest fan of baked apples, in fact, I didn't really like them. That had to change however, for in most of my 'lucky-dip' patisserie ventures, whatever I pick usually ends up having some sort of apple filling, and hence, I've learned to appreciate such things, but I'm no expert. However, I can safely say that this taart was well worth the trip and it even beat the appelbollen that I've become so fond of in Graff Floris here in Utrecht. I'm not usually in the habit of photographing my food, but I just had to share this monster with you all to let you know what you're missing wherever else you are.
For those curious, the cafe was confusingly named 'Winkel' (which translates as 'shop') and was in the Jourdaan. I also picked up a cookery book which among other things gives me a photographic step-by-step guide to preparing an octopus, but I think I'll be sticking with the appeltaart for the time being.
After all of that, I did indeed conclude the day by getting back on the train to Utrecht, but the day wasn't done with me. Later that evening I heard some loud music from outside my window and was confronted with a rather unusual sight.
It was one of those "Surely there can't be any more?" moments when they just kept on coming and coming for a good couple of minutes. Where they came from, where they went, and why they came and went, I've no idea, but about ten minutes later a motorcade of five ambulances, two police cars and one fire engine sped past sirens blazing, so I just hope the two weren't related.
Needless to say, I slept reasonably well yesterday night.
Climate change, Biblical style
I'd wager that Amsterdam Schipol Airport is the only place on earth where an aeroplane altimeter reading -6m below sea level can be a good thing. So you live in a country where most of the land is below sea level, and at a time when climate change suggests that sea levels are rising. You're also a devout follower of the Bible. So what do you do? Well, for the Dutch people I saw 'An Inconvenient Truth' with, the answer seemed to be to act rather unfazed. But for one man, the answer was rather more obvious and proactive. He built an Ark.
These are the truly astounding sites that lie in the town of Schagen. I read about the work of one Johan Huibers on the BBC News website, and I knew instantly that I had to go and see it for myself. Fortunately Schagen was only a ten minute train journey from Alkmaar, so yesterday, after I was done with cheese I went to see the Ark first hand.
I don't think I can do the scale of the thing justice. It literally looms on the side of the marina and makes yachts that I'd otherwise consider quite sizeable, look puny. And the Ark itself is only half the size it should be according to the Bible, so in short, this is a Big thing. But if outside is impressive, then the inside is no less interesting for it's been turned into a museum/information centre/coffee bar.
There are displays chronicling the building of the Ark (which cost a seemingly small €1m), and numerous exhibits on the story of Noah and other parts of the Bible. It even had one explaining how the dinosaurs would have fitted into the Ark, which I think might be out by several millennia and a couple of ice-ages. There was plenty for children as well with a couple of small cinemas showing cartoons and of course, the animals were represented by life-size models.
The actual workmanship is impressive, and I don't think it can ever have been quite such a spur-of-the-moment thing as the BBC report suggests as they has clearly been some major planning, but is a fun idea and it's great that there are still people with enough belief and the dedication to do 'crazy' things like this.
No wonder after all that work Noah felt the need to have a little well earned rest.
Apparently he plans to sail it around Europe to promote awareness of climate change and the Bible and I wish him the best of luck - it all looked a little too top heavy to me! It is slightly ironic though that the port where the Ark's location is only really accessible by car. I walked, and had to cross a busy highway with no proper crossing to get there - so with the climate change message, a change in location might be a good thing!
In some respects, Schagen was a perfect choice for the place to build, as it's everything you wouldn't expect from the location of such a tourist attraction. Doubtless that's because it's so new, but (shock) it's a Dutch town that's not like the others (obligatory huge Church aside)!
Perhaps it's because it has no canals, or perhaps it's to do with it's grid like layout, but Schagen didn't feel like the rest of the Netherlands, and having just come from the very-Dutch Alkmaar and cheese market, that probably made the whole thing all the more surreal.
These are the truly astounding sites that lie in the town of Schagen. I read about the work of one Johan Huibers on the BBC News website, and I knew instantly that I had to go and see it for myself. Fortunately Schagen was only a ten minute train journey from Alkmaar, so yesterday, after I was done with cheese I went to see the Ark first hand.
I don't think I can do the scale of the thing justice. It literally looms on the side of the marina and makes yachts that I'd otherwise consider quite sizeable, look puny. And the Ark itself is only half the size it should be according to the Bible, so in short, this is a Big thing. But if outside is impressive, then the inside is no less interesting for it's been turned into a museum/information centre/coffee bar.
There are displays chronicling the building of the Ark (which cost a seemingly small €1m), and numerous exhibits on the story of Noah and other parts of the Bible. It even had one explaining how the dinosaurs would have fitted into the Ark, which I think might be out by several millennia and a couple of ice-ages. There was plenty for children as well with a couple of small cinemas showing cartoons and of course, the animals were represented by life-size models.
The actual workmanship is impressive, and I don't think it can ever have been quite such a spur-of-the-moment thing as the BBC report suggests as they has clearly been some major planning, but is a fun idea and it's great that there are still people with enough belief and the dedication to do 'crazy' things like this.
No wonder after all that work Noah felt the need to have a little well earned rest.
Apparently he plans to sail it around Europe to promote awareness of climate change and the Bible and I wish him the best of luck - it all looked a little too top heavy to me! It is slightly ironic though that the port where the Ark's location is only really accessible by car. I walked, and had to cross a busy highway with no proper crossing to get there - so with the climate change message, a change in location might be a good thing!
In some respects, Schagen was a perfect choice for the place to build, as it's everything you wouldn't expect from the location of such a tourist attraction. Doubtless that's because it's so new, but (shock) it's a Dutch town that's not like the others (obligatory huge Church aside)!
Perhaps it's because it has no canals, or perhaps it's to do with it's grid like layout, but Schagen didn't feel like the rest of the Netherlands, and having just come from the very-Dutch Alkmaar and cheese market, that probably made the whole thing all the more surreal.
Just a little bit of cheese
The Netherlands is pretty famous for its cheese, but as I've confessed before, it's left me a little disappointed and I still can't shake my addiction to cheddar. But yesterday marked a turning point in my Dutch cheese relationship, for the Netherlands is also famous for its cheese markets, and yesterday I ventured to Alkmaar to see one for myself.
I arrived at 9am to find a very sleepy town that didn't seem to possess enough people to warrant a cheese market, but sure enough, on finding the rather impressive square flanked by the canal and the, there they were, and the market didn't start for another hour, and sure enough again, most weren't Dutch.
The cheeses were already on display and there were plenty of people milling around in traditional Dutch dress, clogs and all.
It's a little hard to describe quite what happened at the market itself as I didn't really understand it! But I shall attempt to describe with the help of photos. From what I could make out, the producers firstly stack their cheeses on the ground in groups according to their characteristics:
Everything then waits until the bell is tolled and the market begins, a bit like the stock market (they even had a 'celebrity' start the proceedings... from a local estate agent family). And everything begins at once. Essentially there are three types of people at work. There are inspectors who go around sampling the cheeses and doubtless making sage like comments while exchanging knowing expressions.
What a fantastic job that is - eating cheese for a living, and you get to eat as much as you want, all in the name of ensuring the cheese is decent. Once they've done their munching they then rate the cheese, whereupon the dealers come and agree a price with the producers via a bizarre system of slapping each others hands until they reach an acceptable value, which unfortunately remains secret from the masses. Although with 23 tonnes of good quality Gouda and Edam cheese on offer, it's going to be some serious money at the end of the day.
Then the fun really starts, and the members of the 400-year old Guild of Cheese Porters spring into action. Their job is to carry the bought cheeses to the scales and then into the waiting carts for delivery. But it's the way they do it that's fantastic.
They semi-run around the market with the tray slung over their shoulders and most either sang little ditties. Apparently, the different colour hats and trays signifies different branches, and usually they remain separate, but as you can see, that wasn't the case when I was there. And that was what was nice, while the whole thing was undoubtedly serious on one level, on another, it was pure entertainment (although I was saddened not to be offered a ride like those lucky kids). You can only take something like this so seriously, but its fantastic that they keep it going, even if it is mainly for tourists.
The whole process continues until the cheese all the cheese has been sold, weighed and delivered when presumably things peter out. I have to confess to not staying until this point as the market started at 10:00 and wasn't due to finish until 12:30 and I had to get going, but I stayed long enough to be one of the fortunate few visited by the inspectors themselves allowing me to indulge in some inspections of my own.
I believe I sampled a 6 week matured Gouda, and very tangy and creamy it was too, so I'd give it a 7/10. There were of course any number of stalls around the market eager to pander to the masses of cheese hungry people, so I further partook of a cheese sample selection consisting of I've no idea what sorts of cheese
Alkmaar itself was a pretty little town, just like a smaller Leiden, and so like Delft, and consequently just like Gouda etc. In fact the thing that really set it apart was the abundance of fondue restaurants. It's another one of those really picturesque Dutch towns with canals that looks like any other (perhaps it did feel just a little sleepier than the others), but oddly I never feel disappointed by that sameness, and I guess that's saying something about the power of this place.
And to think that I managed the whole post without mentioning the word 'cheesey', although Alkmaar's 'official' slogan is "Say cheese, say Alkmaar", which I think is pretty cheesey, but sums everything up rather nicely nonetheless.
I arrived at 9am to find a very sleepy town that didn't seem to possess enough people to warrant a cheese market, but sure enough, on finding the rather impressive square flanked by the canal and the, there they were, and the market didn't start for another hour, and sure enough again, most weren't Dutch.
The cheeses were already on display and there were plenty of people milling around in traditional Dutch dress, clogs and all.
It's a little hard to describe quite what happened at the market itself as I didn't really understand it! But I shall attempt to describe with the help of photos. From what I could make out, the producers firstly stack their cheeses on the ground in groups according to their characteristics:
Everything then waits until the bell is tolled and the market begins, a bit like the stock market (they even had a 'celebrity' start the proceedings... from a local estate agent family). And everything begins at once. Essentially there are three types of people at work. There are inspectors who go around sampling the cheeses and doubtless making sage like comments while exchanging knowing expressions.
What a fantastic job that is - eating cheese for a living, and you get to eat as much as you want, all in the name of ensuring the cheese is decent. Once they've done their munching they then rate the cheese, whereupon the dealers come and agree a price with the producers via a bizarre system of slapping each others hands until they reach an acceptable value, which unfortunately remains secret from the masses. Although with 23 tonnes of good quality Gouda and Edam cheese on offer, it's going to be some serious money at the end of the day.
Then the fun really starts, and the members of the 400-year old Guild of Cheese Porters spring into action. Their job is to carry the bought cheeses to the scales and then into the waiting carts for delivery. But it's the way they do it that's fantastic.
They semi-run around the market with the tray slung over their shoulders and most either sang little ditties. Apparently, the different colour hats and trays signifies different branches, and usually they remain separate, but as you can see, that wasn't the case when I was there. And that was what was nice, while the whole thing was undoubtedly serious on one level, on another, it was pure entertainment (although I was saddened not to be offered a ride like those lucky kids). You can only take something like this so seriously, but its fantastic that they keep it going, even if it is mainly for tourists.
The whole process continues until the cheese all the cheese has been sold, weighed and delivered when presumably things peter out. I have to confess to not staying until this point as the market started at 10:00 and wasn't due to finish until 12:30 and I had to get going, but I stayed long enough to be one of the fortunate few visited by the inspectors themselves allowing me to indulge in some inspections of my own.
I believe I sampled a 6 week matured Gouda, and very tangy and creamy it was too, so I'd give it a 7/10. There were of course any number of stalls around the market eager to pander to the masses of cheese hungry people, so I further partook of a cheese sample selection consisting of I've no idea what sorts of cheese
Alkmaar itself was a pretty little town, just like a smaller Leiden, and so like Delft, and consequently just like Gouda etc. In fact the thing that really set it apart was the abundance of fondue restaurants. It's another one of those really picturesque Dutch towns with canals that looks like any other (perhaps it did feel just a little sleepier than the others), but oddly I never feel disappointed by that sameness, and I guess that's saying something about the power of this place.
And to think that I managed the whole post without mentioning the word 'cheesey', although Alkmaar's 'official' slogan is "Say cheese, say Alkmaar", which I think is pretty cheesey, but sums everything up rather nicely nonetheless.
13/05/2007
An audio-visual linguistic triology
At badminton last week I made a comment after someone had said something in Dutch. It turned out that I'd repeated what they had said word-for-word leading to questions of whether I could actually understand Dutch and just made the rest of the class sit through the English translations to be awkward. Alas, I assured them that it was pure coincidence, for my understanding of Dutch remains stubbornly low. But it's good to know that I can bluff when needed!
I had a similar experience today watching the Formula One race in Dutch, where it felt like I knew what they were waffling on about. But then I realised that the only reason I felt that way was because there wasn't anything going on in the race for them to talk about - so I knew what they were saying, simply because I was seeing it myself. Sometimes I despair at how boring F1 can be. I think the last time I actually saw a race that I enjoyed was Silverstone in 2003, and that was only interesting because a drunk and mad Irish priest dressed like a leprechaun ran onto the track.
But that's not the only thing I've watched on TV this weekend. After completely messing up my plans by failing to get to the library before it closed (at 4pm on Saturday - why I ask you?) I've been left with no work to do. So last night I settled down for the Eurovision. I'd always had a good laugh at the contest and accepted it for what it is, but last night I had to reassess after having to explain the whole concept to my American flatmate. He ended the evening distinctly unimpressed, although he did see the merit in Terry Wogan. As for our entry, what's happened since we won in 1997? In ten years the contest seems to have gone from producing pretty reasonable songs to seeing how can be the most outlandish performer. It's just not cricket, and perhaps (tactical voting aside) that's why we're destined not to win for quite a while - outlandish isn't something we really do that well is it? At least Ukraine didn't win though - what on earth was that all about?!
This evening I also decided that I'd take my TV watching to a new level by going to see Spiderman 3 at the cinema. A part of me was curious to see how you can possibly spend $258 million on a film, and another part wanted to see whether it could be as truly appalling as the second instalment was. Unfortunately, I really wish I hadn't been so intrigued. It's appalling. No, that's doing it a favour. It's crap. It really is. Oddly, the last film I considered walking out halfway through was Spiderman 2, and although it's easier to do in Dutch cinemas seeing as they have an interval, only the thought of my €8.50 ticket kept me in my seat. I don't usually do movie reviews, but I cannot stress how many things are wrong with this film; bad acting, plot holes, ridiculous coincidences, poor computer effects. I'd rather have given my money to the Labour party. There is absolutely nothing to recommend it. If I were the account manager I'd have asked for my money back. The only possible saving grace is that it still cost less the Millenium Dome, and that's not saying much. In fact, there was another good thing - I was so disinterested in what was going on that I took the opportunity to read the Dutch subtitles, so I finally know what echt means. Please, please, please save your money.
Keeping with the TV theme, there's an advert on at the moment advertising a 'green' bank account from the RaboBank. Said advert features two people walking down a street after they've left a cinema showing of 'An Inconvenient Truth'. Rather (un)excitingly I know this street, as I walk down it quite often in Utrecht, but they've made a mistake. The shot after they leave shows them walking towards the cinema. Needlessly picky? Moi?
I had a similar experience today watching the Formula One race in Dutch, where it felt like I knew what they were waffling on about. But then I realised that the only reason I felt that way was because there wasn't anything going on in the race for them to talk about - so I knew what they were saying, simply because I was seeing it myself. Sometimes I despair at how boring F1 can be. I think the last time I actually saw a race that I enjoyed was Silverstone in 2003, and that was only interesting because a drunk and mad Irish priest dressed like a leprechaun ran onto the track.
But that's not the only thing I've watched on TV this weekend. After completely messing up my plans by failing to get to the library before it closed (at 4pm on Saturday - why I ask you?) I've been left with no work to do. So last night I settled down for the Eurovision. I'd always had a good laugh at the contest and accepted it for what it is, but last night I had to reassess after having to explain the whole concept to my American flatmate. He ended the evening distinctly unimpressed, although he did see the merit in Terry Wogan. As for our entry, what's happened since we won in 1997? In ten years the contest seems to have gone from producing pretty reasonable songs to seeing how can be the most outlandish performer. It's just not cricket, and perhaps (tactical voting aside) that's why we're destined not to win for quite a while - outlandish isn't something we really do that well is it? At least Ukraine didn't win though - what on earth was that all about?!
This evening I also decided that I'd take my TV watching to a new level by going to see Spiderman 3 at the cinema. A part of me was curious to see how you can possibly spend $258 million on a film, and another part wanted to see whether it could be as truly appalling as the second instalment was. Unfortunately, I really wish I hadn't been so intrigued. It's appalling. No, that's doing it a favour. It's crap. It really is. Oddly, the last film I considered walking out halfway through was Spiderman 2, and although it's easier to do in Dutch cinemas seeing as they have an interval, only the thought of my €8.50 ticket kept me in my seat. I don't usually do movie reviews, but I cannot stress how many things are wrong with this film; bad acting, plot holes, ridiculous coincidences, poor computer effects. I'd rather have given my money to the Labour party. There is absolutely nothing to recommend it. If I were the account manager I'd have asked for my money back. The only possible saving grace is that it still cost less the Millenium Dome, and that's not saying much. In fact, there was another good thing - I was so disinterested in what was going on that I took the opportunity to read the Dutch subtitles, so I finally know what echt means. Please, please, please save your money.
Keeping with the TV theme, there's an advert on at the moment advertising a 'green' bank account from the RaboBank. Said advert features two people walking down a street after they've left a cinema showing of 'An Inconvenient Truth'. Rather (un)excitingly I know this street, as I walk down it quite often in Utrecht, but they've made a mistake. The shot after they leave shows them walking towards the cinema. Needlessly picky? Moi?
12/05/2007
Kalamata (without the olives)
If you search for 'Kalamata' on Google, surprisingly little pops up beyond references to olives. If you search for 'Kalamata' in my Lonely Planet index, you'll find nothing. All this is very odd and must make it quite easy for people to pass the city by, which would be their loss.
I'm aware that expectations of this entry are possibly running quite high on account of the above, so here goes my attempt to draw out the hidden highlights of Kalamata (hope I do a good job Cecily!).
After some initial confusion over the type of bus I was on - not helped by the fact that the Greek word for 'yes' sounds exactly like the Dutch word for 'no' - I found that the journey down from Athens by coach was extremely picturesque and scenic - in fact, I think it might be up there with parts of the train journey across the US - and the mountain roads were pretty dramatic, especially those coming down from the mountains onto the coast. I spent the four days there staying with Cecily. It was fantastic to see her again, and it was odd to think that the last time we saw each other was about ten months ago, and about 2000 miles away! She has a really lovely little apartment with some great views from her balcony, and it's only a few minutes walk from the beach - where we spent the first afternoon, and I have to confess, many others!
I never really thought that we'd be in a position to go swimming in the sea at the start of May, but in temperatures of 30C plus, that's what we did. No photos of me mind to hide my almost translucent whiteness - although my watch strap tan line has now turned a nice shade of pink. Normally I'd baulk at the thought of 30 degrees, but it wasn't humid at all and was surprisingly bearable compared to the horrible sauna that London became this past summer.
A few have questioned the 'exploding tomatoes' comment a few entries ago, so I had better explain that it didn't result in red tomato mess everywhere, but instead involved stuffing tomatoes with rice, forgetting that when tomatoes cook, they shrink, and when rice cooks, it generally expands. Unfortunately tomatoes are not like the Tardis, leaving the filling nowhere to go, other than out. But they were still extremely tasty, and calling them 'Rustic Stuffed Tomatoes' mitigated any presentational concerns!
The problem with travelling alone, without people of the nationality of the country you're visiting, is that it can be quite easy to miss out on authentic activities and the opportunity to meet and get to know local people. It was great to meet some of Cecily's Greek friends while there.
But I had not expected to come away with an odd appreciation for Greek pop music (annoyingly I heard one very catch song on the way back to Athens, but have no way of finding out just what it was). Cecily also demonstrated her bouzouki, which produces a really different sounds, and perhaps unintentionally rekindled my desire to learn to play the banjo. Nor did I imagine that I'd end up playing in a Tavli tournament. Tavli is the Greek version of backgammon - but don't call it that there!
It's oddly addictive. Cecily taught it to me one morning and later that afternoon I was playing it on the beach. It's essentially three games in one, and I never learned the last one, but it's great fun, so I'm in search of a partner to play with here before Cecily and I can continue the competition next year!
Perhaps though the event that I least imagined was me taking part in a Greek dance. On the last evening Cecily had a dance class that I went along to to watch. Alas, one participant had other ideas and constantly tried to get me involved, with I politely declined aware of the embarrassment that would result. In the end, he took me outside for a quick lesson, which I have to confess I actually quite enjoyed despite having two left feet. Unfortunately for me, on our return inside I found a worrying number of people in stitches - the windows apparently revealed all.
Kalamata itself is an interesting city. Sadly a lot of it was flattened in an earthquake twenty-years ago, and new building regulations prevent constructions over four stories high, which lends the city a lovely low-rise feel, which makes it feel a lot more homely and residential than I imagine it would otherwise.
And I think that's quite a good way to describe the city - cosy. It really had that laid back Mediterranean feel to it, and felt so removed from Athens. The fact that it's not in the guidebook probably contributes to that.
Kalamata's location is really pretty stunning. It's flanked on one side by the sea, and on the other by mountains. The harbour is still full of little independent fishing boats with fishermen mending their nets - and the industry is so important that the fish on offer in the restaurants simply depends on what the fishermen catch and bring back that morning.
On the final evening Ilias drove us (via some fantastic Greek half roads) up to a club on the mountain side that looked down onto the bay and the city.
Apart from another group we were practically the only people there. It's such a strange feeling being able to see an entire city with your feet still on the ground, but not being able to hear any of it. It really puts size into perspective and it was a lovely way to sign off my stay.
Many thanks to Cecily for allowing me to stay and eat her food (and for being oddly effective at preventing mosquitoes from biting anyone but her), and to everyone in Kalamata who made me feel so welcome and at home! It is of course now wet and windy in Utrecht, so I may be returning somewhat sooner than planned!
I'm aware that expectations of this entry are possibly running quite high on account of the above, so here goes my attempt to draw out the hidden highlights of Kalamata (hope I do a good job Cecily!).
After some initial confusion over the type of bus I was on - not helped by the fact that the Greek word for 'yes' sounds exactly like the Dutch word for 'no' - I found that the journey down from Athens by coach was extremely picturesque and scenic - in fact, I think it might be up there with parts of the train journey across the US - and the mountain roads were pretty dramatic, especially those coming down from the mountains onto the coast. I spent the four days there staying with Cecily. It was fantastic to see her again, and it was odd to think that the last time we saw each other was about ten months ago, and about 2000 miles away! She has a really lovely little apartment with some great views from her balcony, and it's only a few minutes walk from the beach - where we spent the first afternoon, and I have to confess, many others!
I never really thought that we'd be in a position to go swimming in the sea at the start of May, but in temperatures of 30C plus, that's what we did. No photos of me mind to hide my almost translucent whiteness - although my watch strap tan line has now turned a nice shade of pink. Normally I'd baulk at the thought of 30 degrees, but it wasn't humid at all and was surprisingly bearable compared to the horrible sauna that London became this past summer.
A few have questioned the 'exploding tomatoes' comment a few entries ago, so I had better explain that it didn't result in red tomato mess everywhere, but instead involved stuffing tomatoes with rice, forgetting that when tomatoes cook, they shrink, and when rice cooks, it generally expands. Unfortunately tomatoes are not like the Tardis, leaving the filling nowhere to go, other than out. But they were still extremely tasty, and calling them 'Rustic Stuffed Tomatoes' mitigated any presentational concerns!
The problem with travelling alone, without people of the nationality of the country you're visiting, is that it can be quite easy to miss out on authentic activities and the opportunity to meet and get to know local people. It was great to meet some of Cecily's Greek friends while there.
But I had not expected to come away with an odd appreciation for Greek pop music (annoyingly I heard one very catch song on the way back to Athens, but have no way of finding out just what it was). Cecily also demonstrated her bouzouki, which produces a really different sounds, and perhaps unintentionally rekindled my desire to learn to play the banjo. Nor did I imagine that I'd end up playing in a Tavli tournament. Tavli is the Greek version of backgammon - but don't call it that there!
It's oddly addictive. Cecily taught it to me one morning and later that afternoon I was playing it on the beach. It's essentially three games in one, and I never learned the last one, but it's great fun, so I'm in search of a partner to play with here before Cecily and I can continue the competition next year!
Perhaps though the event that I least imagined was me taking part in a Greek dance. On the last evening Cecily had a dance class that I went along to to watch. Alas, one participant had other ideas and constantly tried to get me involved, with I politely declined aware of the embarrassment that would result. In the end, he took me outside for a quick lesson, which I have to confess I actually quite enjoyed despite having two left feet. Unfortunately for me, on our return inside I found a worrying number of people in stitches - the windows apparently revealed all.
Kalamata itself is an interesting city. Sadly a lot of it was flattened in an earthquake twenty-years ago, and new building regulations prevent constructions over four stories high, which lends the city a lovely low-rise feel, which makes it feel a lot more homely and residential than I imagine it would otherwise.
And I think that's quite a good way to describe the city - cosy. It really had that laid back Mediterranean feel to it, and felt so removed from Athens. The fact that it's not in the guidebook probably contributes to that.
Kalamata's location is really pretty stunning. It's flanked on one side by the sea, and on the other by mountains. The harbour is still full of little independent fishing boats with fishermen mending their nets - and the industry is so important that the fish on offer in the restaurants simply depends on what the fishermen catch and bring back that morning.
On the final evening Ilias drove us (via some fantastic Greek half roads) up to a club on the mountain side that looked down onto the bay and the city.
Apart from another group we were practically the only people there. It's such a strange feeling being able to see an entire city with your feet still on the ground, but not being able to hear any of it. It really puts size into perspective and it was a lovely way to sign off my stay.
Many thanks to Cecily for allowing me to stay and eat her food (and for being oddly effective at preventing mosquitoes from biting anyone but her), and to everyone in Kalamata who made me feel so welcome and at home! It is of course now wet and windy in Utrecht, so I may be returning somewhat sooner than planned!
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