This is taken from a message I sent to a friend who will be visiting Amsterdam for a week. Basically, she just wanted to know about all the happenin' places. Check it:
There are a few museums you can check out, including the Van Gogh museum (duh), the Photography Museum (or FOAM as its called) which always has really cool exhibits, and the modern art museum (I can't remember what's it's called because I never went there since it was under renovations, but apparently it's really cool and has a Lichtenstein exhibit right now).
Food-wise, the Dutch leave much to be desired. But there are a few diamonds in the rough. You NEED to eat Indonesian food while you're there (colonialism yay). You can obviously find it at little snack shops but if you want something nicer/sit-down go to Cafe Kadijk (really cool decorations too) or Kantjil Tijger (pricier but really bomb food). There's also an awesome Italian restaurant called Vapiano which is located in the Central Public Library (pretty close to the train station) which is amazing. The library itself deserves a visit just because it's beautiful and looks like an Apple store for books. If you want really good breakfast (like, American style if that's what you've been missing, I know I was) go to Barney's Uptown. Barney's Uptown is like the sister-bar of Barney's, a really popular coffeeshop. If you do want to partake in authentic Dutch cuisine, get some pancakes at Pancakes Upstairs (it's this tiny restaurant upstairs in an old Dutch house, it's really cool)
My favorite places to go around town were Spui (also, the pricier Indonesian restaurant has a cheap take-out spot there), Newmarkt (touristy but with lots of cute cafes and coffeeshops), there's a cool market most days at Waterlooplein (near the Rembrandt museum too), Harlemerstraat (where you can find Barney's), and the Jordaan (a really bohemian area).
For bars, I suggest the student bars Skek and the Kriterion, and the squatter bar De Dos (I think I'm spelling that right). For coffeeshops, Kadinsky (in Spui) is really classy, Hill Street Blues (in Newmarkt) is nice because they have good milkshakes, and Blue Bird. Dampkring is the most famous (apparently it was in Ocean's Twelve) but I never wound up going there because it's pretty expensive.
Obviously see the Red Light district. But don't buy any food/drink/whatever there because it's hella expensive.
I would definitely recommend that you rent a bike, if you'll be there for a few days.
PS - "Thank you" = Dankuwel (donk-queue-vell) or just Danku, "Please" = Alstubleift (al-stew-bleeft), hello = hello, the letter "g" is all phlegmy, and the letter combination "ij" sounds like a long 'I' or a 'y' noise ('tijger' sounds like tiger). That's all you really need to know. If they sense that you don't speak Dutch fluently, they'll just switch to English, which can definitely be annoying when you're trying to learn the language.
Apparently, as I just discovered, if you misspell my blog's URL, reversing the "s" and "p" in "blogspot," it takes you to a website devoted to Christian, Muslim, and Jewish propaganda.
On Thursday, April 30th, the population of Amsterdam more than doubled as thousands of orange-clad locals and tourists flocked the streets take part in what city officials have coined "the biggest party in the world." This party is Queen's Day.
Queen's Day, or Koninginnedag, was started on August 31st, 1885 as a celebration of Princess Wilhelmina's birthday. From 1949 onwards, after Queen Juliana took over, Queen's Day is celebrated on her birthday, the 30th of April. You might be asking yourself, "Wait a second. Beatrix has been the queen of the Netherlands since 1980,* why don't we celebrate Queen's Day on her birthday, which everyone knows is the 31st of January?" (Even if you didn't ask yourself that, which is probably the case, humor me). Simple, because January 31st is too damn cold to have a party like this:
(Thanks Scott Huber, for the photo. Check out his flickr for more Queen's Day photos)
So, what exactly is there to do on Queen's Day? Let's just take a look at my day for a good representation of a Koninginnedag.
Wake up.
Go to Giulia's room and have a delicious (and nutritious?) breakfast of toasted croissants and gin-and-Fanta-cocktail. Oh so classy.
Start walking over to the other side of the city. Be sure to bring the twenty-four Heinekken bottles you and your friends bought on sale for 8 euro. You'll need them.
Stop at the hundreds of vendors set up in the streets. Queen's Day is the only day you're allowed to have a yard sale in Amsterdam, and everyone takes advantage of it. Don't worry, there will be plenty of useless stuff to not buy. I saw one woman selling her newborn baby.**
Don't step on any broken glass.***
Carefully avoid looking at the nether-regions of the drunks using the portable urinals set of on the sidewalk.****
Take a break by a canal, and wave at the inebriated party-goers crammed on to the boats.
Try to block out the house music that every boat is blasting from giant speakers that somehow, miraculously are fitting in the boat and not falling overboard (damn).
Continue walking.
Reach Prinsengracht, the richest of the canals as well as the home of some of my friends from the program.
Pull up a chair.
Start drinking beer.
Buy a Vietnamese pasty from a Vietnamese vendor and buy a Belgian waffel from his Dutch neighbor.
Continue drinking beer.
(something?)
Somehow end up walking home.
Eat potato chips for dinner. Mmm Kettle Chips.
Admittedly, my day ended early. By seven that night I was sober, and the rest of the city had started to pack it up. That night though, a few of my friends and I visited our friend Arjay from another (and dare I say our rival) program at his magnificent dorm. It was a perfect night and we hung out on top of his building with a few of his friends. While talking, I came up with what I think are a few inspired theories.
First, the reason Queen's Day is so crazy is that it's the only day Amsterdam actually parties. Basically, I argued, Amsterdam is not a party city, but the rest of the world thinks it is and the locals think it should be. So once a year they try to live up to expectations and wind up overcompensating. Obviously, this theory had its critics. Someone incredulously asked me, "How can Amsterdam not be a party city? If you ask anyone in the U.S. to list the biggest party cities in Europe, Amsterdam would be at the top of the list." This, as I quickly responded, was wrong. And yes, I have some evidence to back this up: Nothing's open after eight at night. Only bars, coffeeshops, and a few clubs. I know this might seem a little contradictory, but hear me out. In a real party city, like Barcelona, everything is open until four in the morning. Partiers are in the streets until the wee hours. In Amsterdam, even the most tourist-heavy areas, like Dam Square and the Red Light District, are relatively quiet during the night. In a party city, everyone is taking advantage of the night life, not just the tourists who aren't yet too stoned to move.
Or maybe Amsterdam is a party city, and Queen's Day is so huge it carries over until the next year.
Second, after the topic of discussion somewhere landed on Pokémon, I realized Ditto was probably the most underrated Pokémon.
Now, let me preface this by saying that I was a Pokemon Master. I indeed "Caught 'em all." All 151. In fifth grade. So I can say the following with some measure of authority.
For the uninitiated, this is Ditto:
This unremarkable little blob is number 132 in the Pokédex. Basically, when you release him into battle, his only "attack" is to transform in to whatever Pokémon he's fighting against. I always thought he was stupid and gimmicky. But lo-and-behold, that night on Arjay's roof I realized his potential. For example, say you're fighting an Alakazam (number 65), a psychic-type Pokémon. Now, everyone knows that psychic Pokémon are weak against other psychic Pokémon. So, just put Ditto into battle, and as long as he's a higher level, he'll have no problem making quick work of that yellow bastard. Or, say, your enemy has two Pokémon left: a water-type, like Blastoise (number 9), and a fire-type, like Charizard (number 6). If you play your cards right (especially if they're from the Pokémon Trading Card Game, which I also rocked), you can make Ditto copy Blastoise, kill Blastoise with another Pokémon, and then use the water-type Ditto to kill Charizard. Simple, right?
That's enough.
* Not-so-coincidentally, she ascended to the throne on Queen's Day that year. ** Just kidding, this didn't happen. *** Also kidding. This is impossible. **** This too. They always stand too far away...
There are two ways I could begin this story, both of which sound sarcastic enough to work.
1) Nostalgic version: In 1999, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (as it is fully known) was released in theaters, to the frenzied anticipation of me and my peers. When I first watched it in fifth grade, I thought it was the manifestation of the concept of "awesome" itself.* Now that I'm not stupid, I've come to realize that Episode I was much less than what I had thought. BUT, there was one element of Episode I that I actually appreciated: pod racing.
2) Actual version: Last night, a few of my friends and I, over more than a few beers, decided to watch Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. Actually, we watched The Phantom Edit. Basically, for the next hour-and-a-half we discussed the movie's many (many) faults. There were only two things in the film that silenced our cynical rantings. They were (a) Darth Maul and (b) pod racing.
(The following will for sure be the rest of my story)
Maybe I liked it so much because I invented it.
I know, that sounds crazy. I understand why you might think something like, "Justin, you're crazy. How could you invent a plot device in a highly-anticipated, multi-million dollar blockbuster when you were only a ten or eleven years old?" My answer is simple: Lego.** Perhaps pictures can best explain the breakthough I made in 3rd grade, while playing with my Legos that fateful night, that was responsible for the wildly-popular pod racing.
Take THIS*** And instead of horses, take the rockets from THIS**** (click on it for a bigger image)
And you get THIS
And there you have it. A pod racer. Unfortunately, I don't think there's any way I can prove to Lucas, or a court of law for that matter, that I invented pod racing. As with every other Lego I ever built, I promptly destroyed it in order to salvage it for parts.
* The notion eventually faded, as I gained more perspective (i.e. "taste") over the years. By eighth grade, I accepted unquestionably that Episode I was a bad movie. BUT, when Episode II came out, it was fantastic. Repeat for Episode III. ** The proper term is "Lego," with no "s." There are no such things as "Legos" because "Lego" is just the concept of building a structure with those recognizable, differently colored, stackable bricks. To refer to the toys themselves, you should use the term "Lego bricks." The more you know. *** Model number 6044, the King's Carriage. **** Model 6982, the Explorien Starship. This thing was the shit. No matter what outlandish spaceships and futuristic death-weapons we would build, it was always assumed between my brother and I that nothing in our imaginary stories, acted out in Lego, could stop this, my adored starship.
Originally, the robot was going to be used for an album cover for Lupe Fiasco's Fahrenheit 1/15 Part II: Revenge of the Nerds mixtape. The "official" album cover is this monstrosity:
Needless to say, I could not let this aggression stand, man. Especially when I have to look at it in my iTunes cover flow every time I want to listen to an otherwise good album. Lupe Fiasco has three Fahrenheit 1/15 mixtapes: the first, Part II: Revenge of the Nerds, and Part III: A Rhyming Ape. The album covers are all pretty bad.
I thought it would be a fun project to assign myself over winter break to remake the artwork in Illustrator as part of a series. I hadn't really decided on what Part I would look like, but Revenge of the Nerds would feature a robot MC stomping around an illustrated city and A Rhyming Ape, which is simply Fiasco rhyming over beats taken from the Gorillaz' Demon Days album, would feature King Kong, with mic in hand, terrorizing the city from the side of the Sears tower.* The idea was nerdy, but that's alright, because that's clearly a theme with Fiasco. Alas, I never got around to it though. No need to let the robot go to waste though.
Below is my original sketch that I traced in Illustrator.
And here's the final product.
I took the photo from the top floor of the Amsterdam public library (A place I've mentioned numerous times before on my blog). I haven't had the need to use Photoshop in a while, so this was kind of a refresher.
* Yes, I know that King Kong originally climbed up the Empire State Building, not the Sears Tower. But since Fiasco hails from a city in the Midwest, the best city in the whole wide, wide world (Chicago), I thought it was appropriate.
Here are a few songs that I've regularly been jonesin' for during my stay here in Amsterdam.
"Black Mirror" by Arcade Fire – In the last two months, Arcade Fire has become one of my favorite bands. "Black Mirror" blew me away the first time I listened to Neon Bible, their most recent album (which itself is phenomenal).
"Mathematics" by Mos Def – This is one of those songs that you hear and love, only to realize you've had it in your collection (read: iTunes library) for years. Pandora actually reintroduced me to this song and I've been obsessed with it since. There's no official video, so this one will have to do. It's a quirky little montage clip.
"Lucky" by Radiohead – Another older one. I never really paid attention to this song, one of the last on OK Computer, before I heard it used in an episode of Six Feet Under. This video's kind of a downer (and Thom Yorke looks weirder than usual in it). So here's the clip from the show. Even though it's in Spanish, I'm sure you can figure it out.
I'm still wading through the giant selection of CDs that the Amsterdam public library has. I'm due for another trip soon. I'm thinking Clipse and maybe some Bob Dylan (after seeing Watchmen on opening night).
So, it's been a while. I guess you could say that I've had a serious case of writer's block. That, and my blog has been in blog-limbo for at least a month. I abandoned my old Wordpress blog (addictedtotheshindig.wordpress.com) and got a blogger account for a few reasons. I never really liked any of the Wordpress themes. Considering that I've never gotten around to learning enough html to do anything (that is, beyond making text bold or underlined), I decided to go with the host that makes it easier for me to have the appearance that I want (that is, a white background and a header). I'll be tinkering with it for a while, but for now my project is to create a big beautiful header up top.
ANYWAYS (courtesy Chuck Klosterman) here's a truncated recount of what I've been up to for the last month or so. I have:
Been to Belgium. Brussels and Bruges, to be precise. Our bus left from the south of Amsterdam at around 8 on a Saturday morning and arrived in Brussels around noon. We then took a train to Bruges where we spent the rest of the day walking around, eating chocolate, buying waffels, and drinking Belgian beer. The weather was overcast, and there weren't that many people out. That night we tried to find a place to eat for under 15 Euro, and let me tell you, it's impossible. Unless, of course, you eat at Quick, the premiere French fast-food establish, like we did (Belgium, being between France and the Netherlands, is equally influenced by both). Overall, I wasn't too impressed by Bruges. Other than our hostel, the Bauhaus Inn, which had a lively bar as well as a DJ that played some much-needed American pop music, the city didn't have much going for it. I guess I'm supposed to see the movie In Bruges in order to get the full experience. It's still on my to-do list.* Brussels, on the other hand, was awesome. The weather was perfect, people were walking around the city, and the buildings were covered with enough graffiti to keep my camera working all afternoon. To top off the nearly-perfect day, we ate some pretty cheap Thai food. I missed my spicy chicken Pad Thai. Check out Sara and Alex's posts about Belgium as well.
Started a new blog. After seeing a Mercedes McLaren parked in front of a swanky hotel in Belgium, we lamented about how we wished there was a blog for automobile aesthetics, a Sartorialist for Cars, if you will. We call it The Cartorialist.
Written two-and-a-half papers, given three presentations, and taken two midterms.**
Been trying to figure out my life for the summer. The Affordable Housing Internship through UEP didn't work out, so now I'm scouring the web for a paying internship. Normally I wouldn't be picky, but with a) the economy and b) the way Amsterdam is pillaging my bank account Viking-style, I need some cash flow come summer-time. Some of the LACAC internships look interesting, especially the one with the Eagle Rock Center for the Arts, in which I'd be helping to plan the Eagle Rock Music Festival.
Had my dad and my brother come visit me, seperately. It's surprisingly difficult to come up with stuff to do for a week at a time. With one or the other, I went to the Heineken Experience (I was brewed!), the Van Gogh Museum, the Rijkmuseum, a cool little comic book shop near the edge of the City Center, and the Red Light District (kind of a requirement for tourists). I know I'm forgetting a few places.
Saw Girl Talk. That was a wacky night.
Started reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. I'm in to it.
Finished Six Feet Under.
Been the recipient of a citation by the Amsterdam Police. I was biking on a road between Keizergracht and Herengracht, where apparently, you're only allowed to travel by foot (unless you're a tram, then you can freely barrel through that section of street). Here's how the story goes: Alex, Sara, and I actually start out by walking down the block. After the tram passes by, Mr. Manthei decides to get on his bike, defiantly proclaim "Fuck walking," and proceeds to pedal down the street. Sara and I follow suit. A few seconds later, at the end of the block, I see Alex is pulled over by a cop, and a few feet behind him, so is Sara. Now, at this point, I think that the two cops have pulled them over for a routine identity inspection.*** As soon as I see this, I get off my bike, and walk it over to Sara, thinking that it's no big deal. The male cop walks away from Alex, towards Sara and I, and Alex walks off around a corner. Both cops, male and female, start talking to us about how they are going to give us tickets for 35 Euro each, for not walking. The male cop starts talking to me. Cop: Do you live here? Me: Yes? [sic] I'm a student and I'm staying here until June. Cop: Why are you riding your bike here? Me: I didn't see the sign. Now, in my defense, the sign technically said that the street was pedestrian-friendly, not that bikes were prohibited. There is definitely a sign for this, but it certainly wasn't posted. If I had been smart enough, I would have told him this. Cop: Do you have identification? I pull out my University of Amsterdam ID, which we have been told will work in situations like these. Cop: I'm sorry, but do you have your passport? Me: No. For obvious reasons, I don't carry my passport with me. If I was smart I would have told him this as well. Me: I have an American driver's license. Will that work? It does. I give it to him and he starts taking down my information. Here's where the culture gap starts to show. Cop: Your birthday is 11-05-1987? He, of course, means May 11th, 1987, because that's how the rest of the world writes dates. My birthday is, of course, November 5th, 1987, because that's how America rolls. I tell him this. Cop: Why is your birthday wrong on your identification? Me: We write it backwords in the U.S. We're weird. The cop and I chuckle about how weird the U.S. is. Cop: What's your address here? Me: Prins Hendrikkade A-12. I, of course, mean A-12 because that's how we pronounce the letter "A" in English. He, of course, thinks I said "E-12" because when he insists on speaking English (not my idea, to my credit), he doesn't think about how the Dutch pronounce the letter "E" as an "A" when they sing the alphabet. So, I'm pretty sure he wrote down my wrong information. Which means I may or may not be recieving a citation in the mail in six to eight weeks. After this whole ordeal, we meet up with Alex, who didn't get a ticket. How, you ask (like I did). "I just told him I was a tourist." If I had been smart enough, I would have told him this too.
The sun's starting to come out, and I'm ecstatic to say that I can bike around the city without four layers on.
* I don't have a to-do list. ** The papers were on "the role of the gaze in gendering public spaces in Cairo," the usefulness of the "modernizing paradigm" – the idea that the city is the site of the new and the rural is the site of tradition – in analyzing the urban experience, and some 500-word thing on some health program in Thailand. The first two are for my ballin' Urban Anthropology class. The last one is for my Health and Development class. I hate that class. *** The Dutch don't like foreigners (read: ethnic immigrants), so cops are known to "randomly" check identification in the street. I've never actually seen this happen. I thought I did, though.
I have a Flickr page up an running. I've got some of my graphic design stuff on there (I'm in the process of adding it all) and that's where you can see all of my Amsterdam photos. Check it out.
Word on the street (by "the street" I mean "my mom's email to me") is that I'll be receiving my new laptop (and by "new" I mean "my old-school Powerbook Ti") on Wednesday via UPS. Hopefully it means that I'll be updating the blog more frequently. Unfortunately, being sans-laptop means most of my blogging for a while will just be in an effort to catch you up on my life over the last three-and-a-half weeks.
So, let me tell you about my classes. This semester, I'm taking four courses: Dutch, Health and Development, Violence in Peace and War, and Urban Anthropology. The latter three are all UvA courses, and since they're taught in English, they are open to international students like myself. Dutch is put on by CIEE, so it's only for the American students on my program. Classes are around three hours long and take place once a week. This is kind of a double-edged sword. On one hand, it's pretty nice because I spend very little time every week in class. On the other hand, three hours can be an excruciatingly long time if you don't want to be there.* Because UvA is a de-centralized campus, my classes take place all over the city – which is great because it makes you learn Amsterdam quickly.
Dutch:
I'm just going to start out by saying that knowing Dutch is not a necessary part of living in Amsterdam. As such, I originally didn't want to take the class, considering how many other interesting-sounding classes there were (i.e. Ethnic Diversity in Popular Culture and Terrorism in the News). Too bad Oxy requires its students to take the course, even though everyone knows it's technically pointless. To tell you the truth though, I'm glad I'm taking the class. The professor (Bonny) is hilarious and it's pretty cool to be able to order a beer at a bar in Dutch ("Mag ik ein biertje graag"). I'm always really happy with myself when I can throw down some Nederlands (the proper way to refer to the Dutch language) at the Albert Heijn and have the cashier mistake me for Dutch. If I'm going to live in Amsterdam, I want to take the time to actually be a part of the city
Dutch is unlike the rest of my classes in that I have it twice a week, Monday and Thursday, for two hours at a time. We spend the first half of class learning grammar and vocabulary (as one is wont to do in a language class) and in the second half, Bonny teaches us practical things about Dutch culture. So far, we've had an in-depth discussion about how to find what we're looking for in Dutch supermarkets (and no, they don't have applesauce), what kind of glasses we can expect our beers to come in at a bar, and gossip about the royal family. Riveting.
Health and Development:
Initially, I was really stoked for this class. The class description on the UvA website made it sound like a course on healthcare and poverty, which could definitely apply to my UEP major. What I didn't know (and apparently neither did any of the other American students who signed up), is that the UvA has a very specific definition of "development." From what I can peice together, development revolves around super-impoverished, rural villages in Africa, Asia, and Latin America, and the study of it is pretty anthropological in nature. Basically, this class isn't a discussion about healthcare systems and how poverty affects ill-health (you know, all that fun UEP stuff). Instead, it's about how to convince African villagers to take precautions to prevent HIV, and what role the medicine-man plays. It's on a very micro level. I guess we have some interesting discussions in class, but I was really expecting (and hoping) for something else. Oh, and did I mention that it's four hours long? Yeah, that definitely doesn't help. In this instance, I actually wouldn't mind being lectured to for that period. But unfortunately, for the final two hours, the class breaks up into smaller discussion groups, and then we regroup to share with the entire class. This style of teaching, in the which the professor doesn't have enough interesting or relevent material to fill the alotted time, is one that I absolutely loathe.
Violence in Peace and War:
This class is legit. It probably won't count for anything (maybe I could get it to count for a Sociology class), but it's super-interesting. We basically take an inter-disciplinary look at what causes people to be violent. Each week, we look at violence from a different perspective: We looked at the philosophical definition of violence (Hobbes, Rousseau, Freud, etc) and we will look at the issue psychologically, neuro-biologically, sociologically, and crimonologically (yeah I just used that word). I'm still forming an opinion about the professors and my class-mates. I'll keep you posted. I have it every Thursday from 15:00 to 18:00.
Urban Anthropology:
Honestly, I had no idea what to expect from this class. The last time I took an anthropology class was in high school, and that was taught by (who we assumed was) an acid-head who admitted to eating lead-paint-chips as a kid. This class has probably turned out to be my favorite. I still haven't figured out what the class is about, but I think that's a testament to how many different, but interesting, topics we've covered. The first class we talked about "the city" as an ideal, and what kind of philosophical and literary connotations it has (i.e. it's a place when you can forge your own identity and make a name for yourself). The last class we had was about Soviet modernist urban design. We talked about everything from Marxist philosophy to the use of baroque architecture in government buildings in Moscow to history of a failed steel-town in Siberia that was supposed to compete with Gary, Indiana. It's pretty crazy but I love it. The only downside is that Urban Anthropology is at 9am on Fridays, which is probably the worst time for anything, ever.
Right know, I'm chilling in the Amsterdam public libary – the Oba, as it's called – listening to live piano-playing and sitting in a fourth-story window that looks south over the entire city. Life's good.
*Last week I got hella sick. I sat through the four-hour class with a fever, and every part of my body hurt. I never wanted something to end so badly.
So, iCentre got back to me about fixing my laptop. For a mere 79-Euro diagnostic fee (read: not mere), they concluded that my Macbook Pro is 700-Euro worth of broken. I'm pretty sure they included the cost of fixing my screen, which hasn't been working for a while – but not impedingly so. Since I don't speak Dutch, and the invoice is in Dutch, I have a hard time telling. Unfortunately, my hard drive is broken too, which is harder to get by without.
When I used to tell people where I was planning on studying abroad, the response would be about one of four things:
Sex (i.e. legalized prostitution)
Drugs (i.e. legalized marijuana)
"Amsterdam is such a beautiful city."
Pickled herring
I was quick to learn that in addition to its vices (are they really vices if they're a central theme in the country's tourism industry?), the Netherlands is notorious for its bad food. I was told – not by any experienced authority, of course – that my diet would consist of bread, cheese, and above all, pickled herring – not to mention ample supplies of Heineken (pronounced "Heinek-uh"). Indeed, there are some truly gross culinary offerings that the Dutch are known for. With french fries ("frites"), they offer dollops of mayonnaise and in the meat section of grocery stores, one still has to keep a vigilante eye out for horse meat – a delicacy according to my Dutch professor Bonny. They also somehow manage to butcher established foods like pizza. On the second day of orientation, our program gave us, for dinner, pizza adorned with gouda cheese* (pronounced "howda"), unnervingly penis-like legumes, and a seafood medley that included shrimp, herring, and baby squid. Needless to say, the culinary traditions of its Western European peers didn't really influence the development of the Dutch art of cooking.** I suppose food, much like language (more on this in a later post, if I remember), is reflective of culture.*** The Dutch, being an unassuming sort (where standing out and "getting A's" is not a good thing) impart on the epicurian world bland dishes with very little spice.
However, this leads to – what I suspect is – one of the great ironies of Dutch culture: The Dutch don't like Dutch food. I know this for a few reasons. First, you'll be hard pressed to find any Dutch restaurants. Second, I've eaten Italian food almost exclusively since I've gotten here. It's not that I don't want to eat Dutch food (well, maybe it is, a little). It's just that when I go out looking for something to eat, I can only find ethnic (read: foreign) eating establishments. There are a ton of Italian restaurants, surprisingly common clusters of Argentinian steakhouses, some Spanish restaurants, and Indonesian restaurants a-plenty.**** Italian meat, in particular, is popular in Amsterdam. I've had my fair share of serrano- and parma-ham sandwiches since arriving.
My favorite spot to eat so far is this little Italian market down the block from Sara, called Sapori Del Mundo, that makes the best tuna sandwiches I've had since Dave's (Chillin' and Grillin') in Eagle Rock. And because you want to know (I'm assuming): No, it does not have mayonaisse in it. Yes, it does have capers, lettuce, cracked jalepeños, honey dijon, and a slice or two of cheddar (gasp!*). I think I like it so much because it's one of the few spicy selections I can get in my diet. The Dutch don't make it easy for a spice-a-holic like myself. There are two options on the lid of Dutch chili-powder containers for dispensing the spice: one hole or three (careful!).
However, this is not to say that there aren't those gems in the world of Dutch cuisine. For example, mayonnaise aside, Dutch french fries are amazing. I'm tempted to revoke the "Masters of the Steak-Fry" award that I gave the Brits in my last post in favor of the Dutch. Here, each batch of thick-cut fries are double-fried for that perfect crunch. The second frying occurs before your very eyes after you order them, so they are still warm when the ubiquitous fry-stand vendor lovingly delivers them to you, their golden aura bursting forth from their newspaper cone. Anyone who isn't Dutch will opt for either the curry ketchup or the peanut sauce (borrowed from the aforementioned Indonesian tradition) – both are delicious options.
But, without a doubt, the greatest thing the Dutch – nay, God – invented is the stroopwaffel (pronounced "strope-waffel"), hereby referred to as "crack." Crack consists of two graham-cracker-like cookies (adorned with a waffel pattern) with a layer of caramel syrup between them. I'll admit, when I first heard about crack, I was curious. While it sounded harmless enough (as crack usually does), the experience – sweet, soft, and chewy – was positively addictive (also, as crack usually is). Usually about the size of a sand dollar, crack can be purchased in packs of twenty for as little as 60 Euro-cents (depending on which hood you're in). Sometimes though, if lady fortune smiles on you, you'll run into a crack-dealer peddling his supply on the corner of the street – usually near a market. The crack dealers (whom "normal" people call "street vendors") sit in their little crack dens (again, "stands"), and will make a giant peice of crack right in front of you for a Euro. I had one of these yesterday, at a market in Den Haage (AKA "The Hague") and it was like tasting an angel. It's a sin crack like this isn't available in the U.S.
The combination of stroopwaffels and Dutch cereal (which all seem to have whole chunks of chocolate in them; so American parents can stop complaining about the sugar in Fruity Pebbles) is going to make me a diabetic by the time I get home.
Seriously. Look at this:
I'm sure I'll find more diamonds in the rough. And as soon as my computer-situation is figured out, I'll upload my own photos or the homemade crack and the crack-den.
*The Dutch only seem to like gouda. Other than parmesan (Italian food), there is little offered in the foreign cheese arena. It's nearly impossible to find cheddar at grocery stores. In fact, when my friend Ian asked a woman standing next to him at the cheese section where he could find cheddar, she gave him this partly-puzzled, partly-disgusted look and said, "Why would you ever want that?" **Except for Dutch ovens, which are the shit. ***Probably the most obvious thing I've ever said. **** Think Indian food in Britain, or Mexican food in the U.S.
So, I've been in Amsterdam for approximately ten days now. Fate has conspired to prevent my blogging about my new home for the next four months in two ways: (1) I've, naturally, been pretty busy getting settled in; and (2) Sara and I (we haven't decided who yet) pushed my laptop off of my bed, face-down, onto the hard linoleum floor of my (very spacious) room, which obviously messed something up because it took four hoursto turn itself on. Once it did turn on, it only showed me the pinwheel of death. It's been in the local "Apple Authorised Service Provider," a place called iCentre on Prins Hendrikkade, for the last week or so, and they have yet to get back to me with the eighty-Euro diagnosis.
Anyways, let me give you a run down of what I did in the days leading up to my arriving in Amsterdam. In case you didn't know, I spent about a week in London.
January 18th –25th
I flew from Portland International Airport (PDX, for those curious) to Heathrow Airport in London, where I would be staying at the home of my friend Alex's mom – one Doris Sisk. Coincidentally, Alex was on the very same flight in to Heathrow. We took American Airlines, which, after comparing with everyone else from my program, was not the most amenable choice. This really means that it only had a few movies to choose from. I watched Eagle Eye, which entertained me for the first few hours, but after that the only thing offered was some movie called Ember, about an underground city in the future. Or something. But what Flight 50 lacked in digital entertainment, it made up for in interesting people. Alex and I were situated in the rear of the plane. It was a relatively empty flight, so many of the passengers (including the two of us) had entire rows free to stretch out in. The few people that were sitting near us, all happened to be in the 21 to 24 year old range. One girl, from Alex's hometown Tucson, was in "international marketing" and, according to every story to she told, loved to party. Another girl was actually from the Netherlands and she went to university in the South (in a town I have yet to remember or pronounce). She had a thing for Alex. Lastly, there was a guy from Dallas, Texas, travelling on his way to Paris to see a dying uncle or something (I was kind of half-asleep for that story). He loved to talk, especially about his favorite bands (MGMT and Vampire Weekend) and he was sure to let us know that he was not like the other people from Texas (i.e. he was wearing an Obama shirt). Also, he loved to sing, and he led us all in a spirited, if off-key, rendition of Heartless (then again, shouldn't it be off-key?), which I'm sure the rest of the plane loved.
We eventually landed and joined Doris and a two-hour-delayed Sara, and got in to the taxi. I notice two very striking things about the driving habits of Londoners on the hour-long drive to her townhouse in Croydon. The first and superbly obvious thing is that they're driving on the left side of the road. But the second and much-more terrifying thing is that there appear to be absolutely no traffic laws in the city. Cars are going on sidewalks and into opposing lanes of traffic (with or without signalling), drivers are parking their cars in the middle of the street, no one is moving over for ambulances, and cars are parked in the wrong direction on the opposite side of the street (which is actually the smartest and most-enviable part of the backwards country).
We didn't do too many "touristy" things during the week. A typical day involved waking up at around 10:00am; eating crumpets for breakfast ("crumps," as we called them, are f-ing delicious, by the way); walking down the block to buy a 7 GBP travel card that gave us all-day access to bus, rail, and tube ("mind the gap"); travelling in to London; walking around for a while; getting cold; ducking in to a pub around 5 o'clock (17:00 for the yanks); getting drunk on cider; eating fantastic pub food or fantastic Indian food; getting drunk-er on more cider; travelling home; watching American news; sleeping. It was pretty epic.
We didn't do too many touristy things. We saw Big Ben, Parliament, Buckingham Palace, that giant ferris-wheel thing, the Millenium Bridge, and the Tate Modern. We checked out the neighborhoods of Croydon, Soho, and Notting Hill. We went to the transportation museum, which was showing an exhibit on the history of their iconic posters.
We also took a trip to Brighton, which was by far one of the coolest cities I've ever been to. Apparently, it's a big university town, so it was full of some pretty cool, independent stores as well as one of the best sandwich shops I've ever been to. Most notably, Brighton is the home of Banksy, which is why I wanted to go in the first place. I've been a fan of his work for a while, and I was excited about seeing it in person. The peice I saw was the one featuring two cops making out. The pub whose wall it appears on had taken steps to protect it, by fixing a sheet of clear plexiglass over it. On the one hand, it was cool that they were trying to preserve it as art, but it also sucked that it's impossible to see it without a sheet of plastic in front of it. Oh well.
Some random thoughts on London (mostly about food, really)
They have mastered the art of the steak-fry ("chips" to them I suppose).
Ford is the most popular American car, hands-down.. The European Focus, the European Fusion (both of which get hella gas mileage and look a hell of a lot sportier than their counterpart in the former colonies), the Fiesta, and the new Ka were everywhere on the streets (I know I'm missing some). I think I saw one Dodge.
Their grocery stores make more sense than America's. None of this cleaning-product-aisle-between-the-baking-goods-aisle-and-the-canned-food-aisle business. As Alex put it, "What a rational country."
The police look bad-ass, even with the bobby.
It's a damn shame that crumpets aren't more popular in the U.S. And no, I don't mean English muffins.
Everyone on the street is dressed impeccably.
They don't have corn-syrup in any of their foods. Meaning Coke in the UK is slightly less unhealthy than it is in the U.S.
Whereas in the U.S., old people dress worse because they don't care, old people in the UK dress to impress.
The police force isn't afraid to buy foreign when it comes to cars. What would you be more afraid of in a high speed chase: A Crown Vic or a suped-up 3 Series?
Their showers don't make any damn sense.
They adore Obama. Every news publication had him on the front page, even on the days before and after the inauguration.
I thought it was odd (and really disappointing) that I didn't once hear "American Boy" on the radio.
For your culturally-appropriate listening enjoyment:
They takeLOST really seriously over here. Season 5 premiered on the 21st in the US, but it doesn't premiere until the 25th here in the UK (thanks Sky1). I had resigned myself to wait until Sunday, but the island has been taunting me relentlessly with billboards like this one around London.
Thanks to Christopher Hester for the photo. I couldn't find it anywhere else on the internet, and every time I've seen the billboard ("advert" to the locals) from the bus, I haven't had my camera handy.
Unfortunately, I never got around to growing my pre-season solidarity beard for Jack. Oh well. I'll cheer myself up with jackface.com.
It goes without saying that the British love their pubs. They don't differ that much from American bars save for a few ways. A British pub has notoriously better food, its patrons are happy, and the hard cider flows from its tap like a golden, inebriating river.
Hard cider is a popular drink. Unfortunately, bars in America don't offer it. Probably because it sounds like a bitch drink (which it isn't over here). That's too bad, because it (a) is delicious and (b) has more alcohol per volume than beer. And because it's sweet, you justify drinking it with any meal. Lunch? Of course! Dinner? Yes! Breakfast? It's juice! Desert? It's sweet, isn't it?
Here are some of the most popular brands offered at these fine establishments (I'll add more as I discover them):
GOOD Magazine has a really cool graphic explanation of the cost of the war in Iraq. It might be a little hard to understand, but it's a clever way to present the issue graphically, as opposed to a boring chart.
I recently re-discovered Olly Moss, a graphic designer from England. I first learned about him when he'd post his work in the Penny-Arcade forums years ago. Even if you've never heard of him, you've definitely seen his work. He's responsible for, like, half of the shirts on Threadless (maybe that's a slight exaggeration). Like this one (spoiler alert):
And one of my brother's personal favorites, "In Case of Zombies" (I can't find the higher-res version on Threadless):
His latest project is a collection of re-imagined movie posters, which I'm really digging. Check them all out here.
And (of course) my favorite:
Your homework assignment is to go check out his work at his website, www.ollymoss.com, and his Flickr page. He's only 21, which means (a) he's going places and (b) I haven't accomplished much in the same amount of time.
Over the course of my winter break, I have had zero motivation to do any graphic design. Maybe TOA killed all the fun I had with it. But checking out Moss' work makes me want to get back to designing. I think I'll take a cue from him and start by re-designing some of my favorite album covers.
I was in the process of coming up with a "Best Songs of 2008" list, like everyone else on the internets. But when I realized that I was struggling to come up with even ten songs that belong on the list, I figured I should stop. Instead of coming up with a list of best songs – because (a) that's stupid and (b) everyone makes the lists to show everyone else how "cool" their musical tastes are – I'm just going to share my favorite song of the year: "Get Busy" by the Roots, featuring Dice Raw and Peedi Peedi. Happy new years!
With its primitive drums (courtesy ?uestlove) and dirty synths, the song's menacing beat is the perfect example of the atmosphere that the Roots crew created in Rising Down: dark, compact, and heavy. Every verse is flawless, and it's near-impossible to pick a favorite line. But if I had to choose, I'd say this Dice Raw rhyme is hard to beat: "I'm kind of like W.E.B. Dubois [pronounced "Du-boys"], meets Heavy D and the Boyz." Along with Black Thought's "My squad's half-mandrill, half-Mandela" and "Part Melle-Mel, part Van Halen," the lyrical content in "Get Busy" pretty much sums up what The Roots is all about. To top it off, DJ Jazzy Jeff (of ...and the Fresh Prince fame) makes a guest appearance to scratch on the song's bridge. Basically, "Get Busy" is the perfect hip-hop song.
I would have picked "Rising Down," simply because it has the one of Mos Def's best verses ever, and the beat is as good as – if not better than – "Get Busy," but I just couldn't because of how awful Styles P is in the song. So, here's a live version without him!
Posts
