Chewing gum

Dancers are responsible for a very large part of the chewing gum sales volume. They also contribute to the turnovers from sales of perfume, soap and washing powder but that's not what this post is about. Chewing gum is important because it makes your breath smell nice or at least stink less. You need top dancing skills to compensate for the bad smell. Most of us don't have those, so we chew. We eat, then we brush our teeth (oh yes, toothbrushes and toothpaste do well with dancers too), then we take a chewing gum.

This morning I had a few spare minutes at Utrecht Central Station and decided to check out chewing gum variety at a sweets stand. That was the best decision I've made today! I looked at the endless mint tastes. I love mint tea, but mint chewing gum is definitely not my thing. But there they where - two new tastes of Mentos Aqua Kiss: Watermelon/Acai and Strawberry/Mandarin. The tastes are as quirky as the ones sold in Kiev so I couldn't resist buying both.  In the bus I opened the Strawberry/Mandarin pack and got a pink-orange coloured gum out.

The smell of the little gum made something inside of me jump. It was a distant recognition I couldn't quite place yet. I put the gum with the orange (Mandarin) side on my tong. FLASHBACK!!!! It's very early eighties we are talking about. Chewing gum was made by the Moscow confectionary RotFront. It was available in four tastes: strawberry, orange, mint and... coffee! Although, chewing gum was rather unavailable just as many other things those days. Chewing gum was difficult to get and your parents and teachers would tell you a thousand times it was very bad for your health. So once you got hold of a pack with five gums they tasted oh so sweet! They were not very soft and sometimes you got a not so fresh pack, so you could actually break the gum. It didn't matter, because after chewing on it for a couple of minutes you couldn't tell the difference between fresh and old anyway. RotFront chewing gums were not suitable to pop bubbles, they were rather stiff and lost their taste within minutes. The wrappers were always the same, nothing exciting at all. Even then coffee seemed a rather odd taste for a chewing gum. But heaven what a delicious treat it was!

Instead of the bus from Utrecht to Houten I suddenly found myself at a camping not far from Kiev. My cousins and I are standing in the shadow of the large pine trees, our bare feet are covered in sand and dust. We hold a little competition: you hold a piece of chewing gum between your teeth and pull at it with your fingers. Who can pull the longest thread?

If you want to lose yourself for a moment in your Soviet childhood, buy the Mentos Aqua Kiss Strawberry/Mandarin. The pink side works too!

Never Let Me Go

I finished reading the book. I've finished reading last Saturday and have been going through it over and over in my mind. I wish I could prevent things from happening, even though I know everything described in the book is a fantasy. The tragedy is so great and what's scary is that it almost could be true. 'Never Let Me Go' evokes almost the same effect as 'The Elementary Particles' by Michel Houellebecq: even though you know this is all a 'lie' you still live waiting for the described future to happen. The only difference is that Ishiguro doesn't promise you anything good at all. He gently leads you to the darkness and then shuts the door behind you. There's no escape. The only thing that rests for you is weep...

If you fully take it in, this book might leave your mind in an agonising pain. Don't read it if you're looking for peace and easy entertainment.

Parkpop

In the beginning.



First aid if you're too hot.



Something with animals' rights.

Entertainment at the market.

Cultural differences? What differences?

Zeppelin.

B-boys competition.

Later on.

The end.

Trousers

He was dressed in a long sleeved shirt and a grey cardigan. You know, the kind older men are likely to wear. He didn't look old, of course, but a bit older. He has also grown a short beard. The beard is very nicely trimmed and I have to admit does make him look very sexy. I was glad to see him. It's been a long time, almost a year. Lat time I'd seen him, he looked at me in my orange trousers and said: "If that's not beautiful, then I don't know what is!" I was flattered but also had to smile at how sweet this sounded coming from him in my address.

He greeted me and I headed for the fitting cabins. I have a new pair of trousers that have to be shortened a bit. He will be touching my legs. Nothing personal, but just the idea! "Nice trousers" - he said as he approached me with a couple of pins in his hand. He didn't have to do it. His older colleagues never give such compliments. I was wondering whether he gives this extra attention to every customer, or just a select few. "Have you washed these trousers already?" They usually don't ask this question either.

"I haven't seen you for a while" - I dared at last. I know, I know there's no point, but why would I prohibit myself to snatch just a bit of extra attention from him? "That's right" - he stood up and smiled at me. "I don't work much. But I'm free from school now, that's why I'm here."

I hope he'll be there again when I come to pick up my trousers next week.

Found dead

A man lay dead for four years in the house where he lived with his family. A representative of the renting organisation has found the body during a maintenance inspection of the house. I've read this story in the newspaper this morning. The story is absolutely sick. The man lived in the house with his two brothers and two sisters before he passed away in 2006. I wouldn't pay too much attention to this story (I'm not keen on this kind of sensation), but there was a small text box next to it describing four cases where people were found months after they'd died.

This small facts listing text box got me thinking. Suddenly I was wondering how long it would take before someone discovers my dead body if I happen to die all of a sudden. I know my friends get worried quite fast, but as long as I have no partner and no family living somewhere near... It certainly won't take months, but days. How many days? What do you feel when you die alone? Does it matter at all how fast your body will be found?

Anyway, after a day of thinking about this I got this uneasy feeling. Like I want to call everyone I haven't talked to for more than a month. Like I want to develop an alarm procedure in which me and my friends would check on each other very often and alarm each other if someone has missed the last check. That kind of things. Am I being paranoid or desperate because I have no steady relationship?

Saturation

Yesterday I did my usual Tuesday dancing. I enjoy the world when I dance. For me dancing is like alcohol for some people: something to drawn my worries in. That's why I tend to dance non-stop rather than mix dancing with socialising. When I don't dance, I move into "I-really-really-want-to-dance" position. Chances are nine out of ten someone will ask me to dance.

But not every dance is enjoyable. Sometimes I wish I would have stayed and talked to someone instead. I don't enjoy dancing with a man if:

• he is getting too close without me wishing it;
• the first time we dance he is making all kinds of compliments not connected to my dancing skills (you have beautiful eyes, you smell good, etc.);
• he doesn't look at me;
• he doesn't smile when he dances;
• he cannot dance well;
• he doesn't try anything new;
• I can smell his dinner or his sweat;
• I can smell alcohol;
• he is soaking wet with sweat.

It seems, the more I dance the longer this list becomes. Being a man isn't easy...

Ska Cubano is coming to the Parkpop on Sunday!

Nieuws Poort

Persvoorlichters, journalisten en politici door elkaar. Mannen in pakken en stropdassen. Politiekbewuste bediening (ze kwamen op eigen initiatief even melden dat Gerdi Verbeet herkozen was als Kamervoorzitter). Alexander Pechtold. Grote scherm waarop vanavond voetbal te zien was. Eten was goed. Ik had salade met in Japans broodkruim gepaneerde en gebakken geitenkaasjes en honing/tijmdressing en gesneden eendenborstfilet met frambozensaus. Mmmmm!

De rest was ook goed, maar da's altijd. :)

The Hague Festivals

Last week I came to pick up my bike from the bicycle parking at The Hague Central Station and saw that the seat was covered in a nice bicycle seat cover. Good news, because the seat of my bike has a crack in it and doesn't look nice anymore. I had a nice black cover with "ART" in white letters written on it, but it was stolen at the very same garage. Luckily now I have a new cover from The Hague Festivals.

The Hague Festivals have started on June 10 with The Hague Jazz, then went on to building of sand sculptures at the usual spot on the Buitenhof square, Night Shopping with shops open till midnight last Thursday, Festival Classique last weekend and are now moving towards their culmination event - the Parkpop.

Parkpop is a remarcable event. It's a free pop festival in the large Zuiderpark in The Hague. The park gets rebuilt to make it suitable for three stages and thousands of visitors. Enormous amounts of alcohol and food will be consumed, people will lay on the grass surrounded by huge amount of garbage (drink cups and food wraps), the music and the spirit will be great and hopefully so will be the weather. One thing that will not be there is the long ago promised performance by Snoop Dogg. Somehow, two weeks before the event the municipality has decided Snoop might cause some unrest. How they came to this - no one knows. The result is - five days before the festival we still don't know who will be performing the main (closing) concert of the festival.

Anyway, I am very happy with my new bicycle seat cover!

Talking about music: Sumo feat. Rigas - Tribute

Perfect evening

Today I have packed two years of my life in boxes and let two people come and take it all away in the afternoon. All the beads, pendants and charms are gone. Suddenly there's plenty of space in the room. There will be even more space once I get rid of the unnecessary furniture. Space. Air. Freedom! There are still things I need to do before the company is definitely closed, but that is all planned in the coming ten days. I expect two large wigs to grow on my back by 1st of July!

I decided my efforts have to be rewarded. Dancing seemed about right. But then a friend called and suggested we'd have a dinner together before we go dancing. Even better! We went to a Thai restaurant, a place you wouldn't normally see me, because I don't like spicy food. But this place (See You At Noon) is wonderful! They have plenty of totally non-spicy food on the menu. It was still early when we were done with the food and we decided to go for an Italian ice-cream.

Italian ice-cream plan didn't work out, because we discovered the Festival Classique at the Plein. There is a stage right in the middle of the square and huge blue pillows on the ground in front of it. We lay down on one of those, used another one to cover our legs and stayed for the concert of the Steelpans band of the Netherlands Marine Corps. Men in white uniforms making swinging music - perfect! So we enjoyed the music, laughed, interacted with people around us and looked at the stars. Ok, there were no stars, but we were pretending there were.

Then there was dancing (at last) and afterwards we had tea and ice-cream at McDonalds. I had a good day and a wonderful evening! Ready for the super busy week?

Job interview

I had a job interview today. Today was crazy: it's way too busy at work, my train had a delay on the way to Utrecht, my train had a delay on the way to Rotterdam, metro in Rotterdam had a huge delay too, I was 15 minutes too late for the interview... Wait, it's getting crazier. I had an interview with two women! It's the first time in my life I have a job interview for an IT-position with women and no men. That felt weird. At the beginning of the interview I've discovered they have one more opening. That position sounded much more interesting, but I was totally unaware of its existence. After one hour the ladies suggested I might like the other position more! That was rather shocking. This happened to me once before and even though I didn't get the job back then, I still remember that interview as one of the best I ever had. Half an hour later we agreed I was applying for that other position.

I wasn't really nervous before and during the interview, but I was drained when I came out. I'll have to wait for another week to hear whether they want me or not, but whatever the result - I am satisfied already!

The Hague Central Station becomes sort of a living room of The Hague - people watching football together:

A chance

Last week Wednesday I agreed to meet a friend for a short chat at The Hague Central Station. At six in the evening. I was early, wondering around a bit before I settled down to wait at the agreed spot. Still too early. On my way to the strategically good position I passed a man. I passed many people, but this man caught my eye. Tall, in a suit with his jacket open he walked with confidence and didn´t seem to hurry. Our eyes met for a moment before we passed each other. I couldn´t help turning my head around. Just when I was turning my head back I saw him turning his head around too. When I reached my place I turned again, this time to face him as he was standing a little further on looking at me. It seems he stood there just to look at me. He wasn´t pretending he had anything else to do.

He winked at me. I smiled back. I felt warmth, recognition, joy, comfort, everything at once. We kept on looking at each other until I realised it was over six and my friend was nowhere near. I called him to find out he wasn´t coming and left the place. Several minutes later on my bike on the way home I thought: "Why haven't I done anything? Why hasn't he done anything? How could we let this happen? How could we let ourselves drift apart?!' These were the questions I lived with for the past few days.

Today is a Wednesday again. The busy day came to a halt suddenly, unexpected. It was half past five when I realised... I rushed to the Central Station. If I hang around the same spot at the same time maybe I could see him again? It's not like I had it all ready in my head. I had no idea what I was going to do if I saw him. But I was sure I wouldn't let him go just like that this time.

It was busy, I arrived later than last week. I jumped off the bike, dropped it next to the entrance to the biking 'garage' and made it for 'my spot'. The man I was looking for wasn't there. I was pacing to and fro looking around. No result. He wasn't there. Five to six. Six. Five past six. Ten past six... I Stood there waiting for a complete stranger. I didn't know which train he was taking last time. I wasn't even sure he came to the Hague regularly. Maybe he is married. Most probably he is. What was I doing there? What did I actually hope for when I rushed to the station? I felt weird. Silly. The idea suddenly seemed so obscure to me I wasn't even disappointed. Of course the guy didn't show up! What made me think he would?! I went home...

Максим Леонидов - Девочка-виденье

Writing

Writing posts for this blog becomes more and more difficult. It's not because I'm tired of it or bored. Not at all! It's just that I became more critical towards my pieces. If I have no good story, I don't feel like writing. Which is not right. I have good stories because I write every day. I have just finished writing a job application letter and I realised that I actually have taken my letters to the next level. There's more me in them nowadays and I get a good letter out in half-an-hour. No agonising pain for three hours. No stiff language. This was the third 'new generation' letter. So far one of them led to a rejection and one to a job interview (coming Thursday). But even if the new style in my letters will not lead to more job interviews, at least I enjoy writing them more and I am more satisfied with the result when I'm finished. And I do realise it's due to my daily blog exercise that I'm able to write letters more easily. So I guess I just need to go on if I want to see more results.

Another reason why it becomes more and more difficult to write a post every day is that bits and pieces of ideas for a novel (or rather several novels)  pop up in my mind distracting me from my daily writing. Today I was writing yet another large piece of prose in my head. It's the fifth one in the past nine months and also the most elaborate one. A novel is itching at the back of my head, but I'm still too scared to actually start writing it. Anyone knows where I can find the Devil to make a deal?


Katzenjammer - Hey Ho (On The Devil's Back) - Thanks to Vovka for this wonderful discovery!

Orange

Netherlands - Denmark. 2-0. Everything is orange. Life outside reminds me of this very old children's song:

Donor

"My name is Kathy H. I'm thirty-one years old, and I've been a carer now for over eleven years. [...] My donors have always tended to do much better than expected. Their recovery times have been impressive, and hardly any of them have been classified as 'agitated', even before fourth donation."

"Maybe from as early as when you're five or six, there's been a whisper going at the back of your head, saying: 'One day, maybe not so long from now, you'll get to know how it feels.' So you're waiting, even if you don't quite know it, waiting for the moment when you realise that you really are different to them; that there are people out there, like Madame, who don't hate you or wish you any harm, but who nevertheless shudder at the very thought of you - of how you were brought into this world an why - and who dread the idea of your hand brushing against theirs."

It's long ago I've read something quite as 'disturbing' as the book I'm reading now: Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro.

Finish

 So that's it. Yesterday I've spent two hours putting together a newsletter announcing the final sale at Photobeads. Now I am handling the orders. In a week or so someone will come over to take over the rest of the stock. Then I will shut the website down, close the bank and Paypal accounts and then notify the authorities that the company has ceased to exist.  I should have done all this almost a year ago. Instead I was just planning to do so and postponing the actual doing. All the stuff in my room was bugging me and now I actually feel relieved seeing empty spaces on the shelves. This feels like an achievement. I don't regret closing Photobeads. Not a tiny beat. And still I have this heavy feeling in my chest for the past 24 hours (ok, with a dancing and sleeping break). Partly it resembles the pain I feel when I lose something or someone very important. And then there is a part of anxiety mixed in. What a dreadful cocktail! I think it has to do with the fact that several things are coming to an end (my work, my relationship, Photobeads) and none is starting. There's nothing to look forward to and that scares the shit out of me. Tonight I am going to forget everything, I'll soothe my soul with this powerful drug I'm addicted to. I am going to dance till I drop and don't feel anything. But what am I to do tomorrow?..

I always listen to Russian songs when I'm feeling blue. Back to my roots: Bulat Okudzhava - Prayer

Vote

I have used my right to vote yesterday. It was a fourth time since I'm allowed to vote here in the Netherlands. The first time I voted for nobody in the municipality election. I did that at a large warehouse in The Hague. The next two times I went to the nearby schools to vote. Yesterday I voted at The Hague Central Station. Schools are nothing unusual, but warehouses and stations make voting exciting. All those people waiting in line before they take their train to work or after they got off a train from work. People stand in line as if they did voting at the station on a daily basis: talk on the phone, drink coffee, chat to their companions, read books or simply stare around. I talked on the phone. Then I read a couple of pages of my book (more about it tomorrow). Then I started staring around. Anyway, I did my best. And now I'm a little disappointed by the results. Well, I'll have another chance in four years. Or earlier.

Perseverance

I'm not a person who gives up easily. My brain is searching for possibilities and as long as new leads appear I'll be trying. If the issue is important enough, that is. I am also not a person who accepts a 'no solution' situation. There is no problem without a solution. I'm not someone who gets depressed by draw backs easily. A new rejection usually brings along some new information and also a new lead for a possible solution. I am certainly not someone who waits too long before starting working on a solution. If I can make a step towards the solution of my problem today, I'll not even be able to wait till tomorrow. I don't have any difficulties finding and interpreting information. I'm not afraid to ask questions. I can easily explain my problem and my request on the phone, in an e-mail or a letter. I am not stupid. And still there are problems that can drive me crazy because I can't find a proper solution. How do people manage to survive without all these qualities?!


Somewhere between The Hague and Utrecht

Political awareness

Next Wednesday I am going to cast my vote in the parliamentary elections. Today some people at Utrecht Central station were handing out some promotional material for the SP (Socialist Party). They gave me a red tomato sponge just as last time. Right on time because I threw away the old one just yesterday. I'm not going to vote SP, but I am very happy with my new red tomato sponge!

Pink Martini - But Now I'm Back

A ride

It's a very warm summer evening. Extraordinary warm for The Hague early June. A friend called me around ten p.m.
Friend: "Me and my brother are at a cafe in Scheveningen. Wanna join?"
Me: "Sure!"

We enjoyed our drinks at the seaside until the cafe was closed at two. We still didn't feel like going home, so we decided to check out a disco downtown.
Me: "Guys, you drank so much I'm not sure I trust your driving skills. May I drive?"
Friend: "Ask him, it's his car."
Brother: "Sure, you can drive."
Friend: "Hahaha!"
Me: "What's the matter?"
Friend: "You are going to drive!"
Me: "Your brother doesn't mind."
Friend: "That's because he doesn't know."
Brother (alarmed): "Doesn't know what?"
Friend and me: "Nothing."
Brother (concerned): "Do you have a driver's licence?"
Me: "Yes."
Brother (worried): "Can you drive?"
Me: "I have a driver's licence!"
Brother (still worried): "Yes, but can you drive?"
Me: "Give me the keys."
Anxious he handed over the keys.
Friend: "She has a Ukrainian driver's licence. You know, the one you can buy for one hundred US dollars."
Brother (in shock): "Really?!"
Me (very calm): "Do you have a problem with it?"

By that time I've settled in the car and changed the position of the seat and all the mirrors. My friend sat next to me, his brother sat at the back. I have a Dutch driver's license, but my driving skills are far from perfect. This was the third time this year I drove a car, after a stop of more than a year. While my friend was enjoying giving me directions, I could almost hear his brother's heart beating behind me. All three of us certainly didn't look like we had an ordinary ride when we got out of the car fifteen minutes later. I was glad I drove and concerned about how much energy it consumed. My friend was almost crying because he laughed so much.
Brother (with a great relief): "I have to pee!"

Интерессант

Ик зат ин де тряйн нааст ейн хейле аррогантэ айкел. Де тряйн ваз вряй вол, дус хеб ик хем гевраагд оф ик нааст хэм мохт зиттен. Мет мяйн врааг бедулдэ ик те зэггэн "Хаал е тас хиир вэг, ню!" Маар дат зай ик ниит. Ик бэн намэлик хейл белейфд. (Бяйна) алтайд! Хяй кеек ме аан эн хаалде мэт веел тэгензин зайн тас вэг ом верволгенс хеел демонстратииф хем ног ин зайн ханден тэ хаудэн ом те латэн зиин дат эр геен плек воор из. Алсоф хет мяйн проблейм из!

Хяй ваз даюделик бляй мет зайн ифоун - кеек эр элке 20 секонден наар ен деед ер воортдюренд иитс мэй. Воор хэм оп тафэлче лаг эн хейле дикке стапел визитекаарчес. Хяй ваз иитс хейл интерессантс аан зайн коллега аан хет вертэллэн тотдат ди зайн эппл лэптоп эраютхаалдэ эн даарин оп из гегаан.

Ик зат нааст ди белахелике керел эн дахт: "Ват валт эр аррогант те дун? Е зит ин де твейде клас вагон! Эн ик хеб оок эн ифоун."

Ик вулде дезе пост ин мэ опкомэн ен вилде хет метэйн опшхряйвэн, маар вау натююрлик ниит дат хяй пер онгелюк мей зaу лезен. Дус хэб ик хэт маар мэт Руссише леттерс опгешхрейвэн. Ик бесеф вэл дат эр хейл вяйниг мэнсэн зайн ди дит кюннен лейзэн. Ах, зэт'с лайф. ;)

Buscemi - Sahib Balkan

Sunglasses

My sunglasses fell on the floor when I was passing through an almost empty train carriage looking for the most comfortable seat. "Oops!" - I heard a pleasant male voice behind me the very moment I realised what happened. I turned around to pick up my sunglasses and saw a man doing it for me.

The option of falling in love on a Dutch train doesn't really work for me. Men who travel by train are students. Or eccentric busy types with a bunch of printed papers and yellow ties. Or fathers showing their children what a train is and explaining everything on the way so loud that all other passengers are bound to profit from their wisdom as well. Retired persons taking a day trip with their wives. Men wearing non matching socks. Men with compulsive disorders. Civil servants. There's always something that prevents me from even considering a possibility.

The man picked up my sunglasses and handed them over to me. "Please." He had dark blond hair, blue eyes and a very relaxed and open smile. He looked like he had brains but didn't suffer from this unique quality. "Thank you!" - I accidentally touched his hand when I took the glasses. It didn't feel awkward. My heart went "BOOM".

I settled several rows further violently fighting the desire to take a mirror out of my bag and check out my looks. Across the passage a non-matching-socks-guy was reading a free morning newspaper. I put a tea bag in my tea water and let it sit in water for a couple of minutes. Meanwhile I gathered some courage to check out on THE guy. He was all consumed with work on his laptop.

Oops, my tea is getting too strong! I took out the tea bag, the train made a sudden movement and a large brown drop of tea landed on my perfectly white trousers. Shit! Think fast and go to the toilet. Luckily I don't have pass HIM on my way and if I manage to wash out the stain my trousers will be dry by the time we get to Utrecht. Help, no soap! Stressed and disappointed I returned to my place. THE man was still working on his laptop.

The final destination of this train is Groningen, but all more or less normal people (in particular people with laptops) get out in Utrecht. There's no reason to go any further unless you're a retired person making a day trip with your wife. I decided that if I hold my bag in front of the spot, I still might have some chance. I stood up and made it for the door. The guy was still consumed with his work and was obviously not planning on getting out in Utrecht! I took a close look at him as I walked past. He appeared to be not so attractive after all. The guy is probably going all the way to Groningen. Freak!

Real life

I stopped thinking about Kiev and started living my real life. It proves to be quite a heavy task. Stress at work (the hell has broken loose three weeks before the go-live), some unfinished tasks for Photobeads sitting on my shoulders for weeks if not months already, household projects screaming for realisation and threatening to ruin the house,  overweight stubbornly holding on to my body, money shortage and as a dark cloud above my head - no work contract as of July 1st. Absolute absence of love or even loveless sex doesn't improve the situation. On top of it all I seem to have lost my USB-stick with all the job-application letters, CVs and "My Dear Edith" film scenario. And this post is writing for the sake of writing - hmmmm... Well, maybe today is just not my day?

Mademoiselle Caro & Franck Garcia - Mon Ange


Found in my Kiev luggage: chewing gum with the orange-cranberry flavour.

Cheap and cheaper

I'm still getting used to being in The Hague and not in Kiev: have to think a moment before I say 'Hello' when I enter a shop; surprised every time I hear people speak Dutch or Turkish outside on my street; bicycles; empty house. I've sorted out my new clothes yesterday, but the shoes and the jewellery is still laying around together with all kinds of small things from my suitcase: cosmetics, epilator, bills from all the shops we visited.

I browsed through the bills and found two bills from our last visit to the nearest supermarket. We bought some things to try out (potato crisps with flavours: red caviar, green spring onions and crab; pomegranate and grapes flavoured chewing gum) and some things to take with us. My friend has bought a 250ml bottle of vodka, so it's on the bill too.

Judging from the bill 250ml of vodka is cheaper than any of the following: 100g of black Ceylon tea, 25 bags of rooibos tea, 145g of chocolate bonbons, 150ml of face scrub, an emery board nail file or three packs of chewing gum. What's cheaper than vodka? A pack of cigarettes.

A new piece of jewellery from Kiev

I am determined to invest some time in fixing things in my house next week. Bathroom or kitchen? Vote at the right!