Sasja's dnevnik

What really happened

2012-01-29T23:56:00.000+01:00

All right! I bet you are extremely curious about what happened to the dead naked man in the forest.;)

That’s what you asked:
Did he die there? Yes.
Gibt es einen nahegelegenen Lagerfeuer? Nein.
Bären leben in den Wäldern? Nein.
Is it a new Wallander movie? No.
Does it involve an emergency situation? Yes.
Smoking is a health hazard? No.
Does it involve more matches? No.
Does it involve match.com? No.
Did he die of a heart failure? No.
Did he choke on a piece of meat that he tried to remove with a matchstick? No.
Did he try to involve a bunch of boy scouts into getting naked and making woodfires? No.
Does it involve drawing straws? Yes!
Did he lose his floss and used a matchstick instead? No.
Did he get naked before flossing his teeth? If we assume he ever flossed his teeth, then yes.

And here’s what happened:
Two men were flying in a hot air balloon. They were flying over a forest when the balloon started to descend. They got rid of the sand bags. The balloon went up for a while, but started to descend again. They got rid of their clothes. That helped a bit, but the balloon started to descend again still before they reached the edge of the forest. One of them had to jump to allow the other one to reach the edge of the forest and land safely. They broke a match to draw straws and to determine who had to jump. One of them ended up with the short piece of the match and jumped off the balloon. He brushed against some big tree branches and finally hit the ground and died. He still had the broken match in his hand.

What happened?

2012-01-25T23:23:00.000+01:00

We played this game in my German lesson tonight and I liked it a lot:

A dead man lies naked in the forest. In his hand he holds a broken match. What happened?

To find out you may ask me questions that I can answer with either ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Shoot!

Rodrigo y Gabriela - Tamacun

Hunting

2012-01-23T23:46:00.000+01:00

It’s that time of the year again: women are on the hunt. And it’s not men they’re after. It’s SALES. It’s almost over, so discounts can be up to 75%. The choice of good stuff is considerably down, but that’s exactly what creates perfect hunting conditions.

There are two types of hunting: hunting for that perfect whatever for whatever occasion (dress for a friend’s wedding, suit for a job interview, shoes to complete an outfit for Christmas, etc.) or hunting for whatever at a low price. The first one usually takes place outside of sales season to increase chances of finding that right thing. Besides, occasions usually do not coincide with sales. The second is all about sales. Typically, neither of them results in buying things that are objectively necessary.

Last Saturday, between a visit to an art fair and a theatre play in Amsterdam, I engaged in the second type of hunting. I browsed through clothes on racks, shelves and in baskets. I fought my way through the sea of other huntresses. I occupied fitting rooms. I skipped through the shops in a dress with my jeans halfway down my legs. I spent money. I found two dresses, a pair of trousers and a vest.

No more shopping till May! Watch me.

Realism

2012-01-21T23:24:00.001+01:00

Today I visited the Realisme Art Fair in Amsterdam. These meerkats (€60 a piece also available in red, white, orange, black and gold) were the most realistic piece of art.

Brazilian

2012-01-19T23:43:00.000+01:00

On my last day in Abu Dhabi I decided to do what all the other women in our group did during the week – get a beauty treatment. Everybody got at least two treatments and I felt left behind. This was my last chance to be a woman. I took it.

At first I made an appointment for a manicure and a pedicure. Nice. Safe. Boring. But hey, I was getting a treatment at a spa! A lady led me to a nail care room. I don’t know what’d gotten into me, but suddenly I heard myself ask “Is it possible to have a Brazilian wax too?” Well, I said it, she heard it, I couldn’t take it back. “Yes, we will do that after the pedicure.”

Well, the manicure and pedicure part was not anyhow remarkable. But it’s the Brazilian wax that ultimately confirmed my femininity. I was lying there, my pants off and two Philippine women – the hair busters – were closely studying my... well... you know, the thing that needs a Brazilian wax.

Hell it hurt! That apart from being a totally weird experience in the first place. At some point it was hurting so much, I said: “Please remove only the hair, not the whole thing!” “Yes, madam.” The women remained concentrated on the subject.

“Next time it will not hurt so much” - they promised after they were done. I felt very clean and somehow even light, but I am not sure there will be a next time.

Here’s somebody else’s experiences on the same thing, but then better written. Men! I wish you knew the true price of pretty.

What’s underneath?

2012-01-17T22:12:00.000+01:00

Emirati women wear abaya and some of them also wear a niqab. That transforms them into totally mysterious creatures and makes tourists wonder: how do they move, how do they eat and, the most important question – what’s underneath.

How do they move? Slowly. Either their abaya prevents them from moving fast or they simply don’t ever have to rush. That I don’t know.

How do they eat if they wear a niqab? They either lift it up or take it off during the meal. Judging by the stains they do occasionally spill food.

What do they wear underneath? I was closely watching local women in Abu Dhabi, Dubai and Al Ain for two weeks to figure that out. Here we go: sneakers and jeans, very tight jeans and very high heels, very high heels and skirts that are not very long, long sleeved tops, very long richly decorated dresses, most often without sleeves. They prefer carrying fancy handbags which is understandable since that’s one of the very few ways to distinguish themselves.

Obviously, I was not watching only women. The question ‘what’s underneath’ applies to men too because most of them wear a thawb (or kandura). It’s white and reveals a plain while t-shirt underneath. Sandals on their feet. But between the t-shirt and the sandals... That remains a mistery.

Elie Attieh - Khidni Habibi

Dubai

2012-01-15T17:34:00.001+01:00

Just as Abu Dhabi, Dubai doesn’t have many historical sights to offer. Instead the Sheikh (was it Maktoum?) is trying to make history now. Tall hotels, office towers and the conductorless metro (sometimes more expensive than a taxi) – that is all stunning. But hey, how’s that different from other wealthy metropolis?

The competition is tough, but Dubai is still winning it by having the tallest building in the world – Burj Khalifa. You can live there, have your office there or simply go to (almost) the top for the sake of being able to say that you stood on top of the tallest building in the world. For financial reasons I chose for the latter. Burj Khalifa is breathtakingly beautiful. It makes you speechless. It makes your heart beat faster. It gives you a lump in your throat. Of course this all happens to you provided you’re passionate about modern cities and things big. If you are a nature lover and like silence you should avoid Dubai at all costs.

The other thing Dubai invented to keep people in the city for days are shopping malls. There are several huge shopping malls in Dubai, but two of them really stand out. Emirates Mall has a large ski slope. Inside. Tourists watch skiers from the mall windows and make pictures. Then they shop in the mall for hours. Dubai Mall has a waterfall fountain, large ice skating ring and a huge aquarium. Inside. Tourists watch sharks swim past. Then they shop for hours. If you are not a shopping freak, you might want to visit the Dubai Mall anyway. Its interior design and logistics are fascinating.

Abu Dhabi

2012-01-10T23:54:00.000+01:00

Abu Dhabi is a city with around one million inhabitants. Most of which are foreigners. Most. 80% or even more. Emirati nationals are a rare attraction in Abu Dhabi. To see them one must go to the Marina Mall (the most fancy shopping mall in Abu Dhabi with ski slope and all) or to the Al Ain Zoo. I am not kidding, zoo is the best venue to see locals.

Emirati nationals are fluent in English. That’s because they need it to communicate with shops personnel, taxi drivers and other service providers. Although an Emirati taking a taxi is quite rare. They all have cars, usually SUVs. Parking is free everywhere and a litre of gasoline costs €0,4 max.

Main sights in Abu Dhabi are skyscrapers, hotels and shopping malls. That’s because only fifty years ago Abu Dhabi looked like this:

And now it looks like this:

One of the music videos we were actually able to comprehend: Sandy - Ayza A'olak

The cutlery

2011-12-25T21:27:00.000+01:00

When was the last time you had real metal cutlery on board of a plane? Even befoore 9.11 it was not so common, now it seems all crews fear someone will threaten them with a fork and demand to crash into some tall building.

Well, the Etihad crew of the flight EY26 heading from Düsseldorf to Abu Dhabi didn't fear that. First of all, probably, because there were hardly any arabs on board. Besids, why would anyone would want to threaten the crew when one really has anything one needs during the flight?

I mean, would you even think of sticking a fork into a flight attendant if a pillow and a blanket already wait for you when you get to your seat? Who would think of putting a nife at the purser's throat after they gave you an a-la-cart three course menu with three main courses to choose from? I had a traditional Christmas meal - turkey with chestnuts, roasted potatoes and green beans. Halal of course.

The flight attendant came along distributing small black poaches containing a toothbruch, toothpaste, a pair of ear plugs, a sleeping mask and a pair of... socks! After that the wish to run over to the cockpit and knock out the pilot with a spoon evaporated completely.

Yes, I do recommend flying with Etihad. The word 'cheap' is not in their vocabulary. Even if they charged you an EasyJet fare.

And I do recommend flying to Abu Dhabi because the passport control guys look ultimately HOT!

<--Stay connected during the flight.

Das Lebensmotto

2011-12-21T23:13:00.001+01:00

Our teacher handed over sheets of paper with quotations from famous Germans: Bismarck, Schiller, Nietzsche and such.

Teacher: “Welches Motto könnte für Sie gelten?“
M.: „Und leben ist ja doch des Lebens höchstes Ziel!“
Teacher: „Warum?“
M.: „Das Leben gibt es um zu leben. Dann muss man das leben. Wann du dein Leben nicht gelebt hast, dann hast du nicht gelebt!“
Teacher: „Genau.“

Speaking of famous Germans: Georg Friedrich Händel - For Unto Us a Child is Born

Flying with luggage – lessons learned

2011-12-19T23:53:00.000+01:00

Lesson No. 1 – Never put your favourite shoes in your check in luggage.
Lesson No. 2 – If you have any unique jewellery, make sure it’s either on you or in your hand luggage.
Lesson No. 3 – The dark straight Diesel jeans cannot be left in a suitcase unattended.
Lesson No. 4 – Cabin luggage suitcase can be best used for cabin luggage.
Lesson No. 5 – If you only have one foundation, for Heaven’s sake keep it with you at all times.
Lesson No. 6 – Take all books on board with you.
Lesson No. 7 – Avoid checking in luggage at all cost.
Lesson No. 8 – If you have to check in your luggage, make sure there are only cheap, old and easily replaceable things in it.

I now have a couple of days to replace the contents of my lost suitcase at the cost of KLM. I’d rather have my suitcase back.

Emancipation

2011-12-17T03:42:00.000+01:00

Emancipation is good, but men with long nails are a no-go.

Selah Sue - Peace of Mind

Model

2011-12-14T01:35:00.000+01:00

When I travel I’m always amazed by women who travel on high heels. High heels bring about that glamour model look many of us would like to have but few of us are prepared to suffer for. The ‘Wow!’ effect. I always failed to understand why someone would willingly suffer high heels through check in and passport control queues, security checks, airport shopping and long flights. But the high heeled women never look tired or suffering. Super women!

I don’t have shoes with very high heels in my wardrobe, but I do have heels. And last Friday I headed for Germany wearing boots with some 5,5cm heels. I figured the flight was very short (a little more than one hour) and my friend would pick me up at the airport. I could even kick off the boots in the car if I felt really tired. Besides, the boots would take up too much space in my little suitcase.

I have to confess: high heeled and with my borsalino hat on I did feel a tad model-ish. Diesel’s Fuel for Life (sprayed at the duty free first thing after the security check) contributed to that feeling. I’m not sure anyone else had noticed the model in me, but who cares? I model-rock. Yes.

Encouraged by this positive experience I decided to repeat the model trick on the way back. It would be the same story except this time I had to spend one hour on the very comfortable ICE train to get to the airport. Can do.

Model me entered the train to discover that it was fully packed. Me – no seat reservation. On my high heeled boots and with my suitcase I started moving through the overcrowded carriages in the direction of the restaurant. That was a challenge. Flats would have been of help at that moment. Two carriages later I entered the restaurant. To discover. That this restaurant. Was equipped. With very few seats. And many high standing tables. And all the seats were taken. Crap!

After 30 minutes standing on high heels in a fast moving train I lost not only my model look (if I’d ever had any), but also every trace of the model feel. As soon as one of the seats was free I threw myself in it preventing a gentlemen in the age of my father to have that seat. He certainly didn’t see the model in me but I didn’t care.

Slightly recovered I found my way through the maze of the Frankfurt International Airport to the right terminal, flirted with a friendly guy at the start of the security check (weak model signals beaming through the layer of tiredness) and headed for the gates. There were no trolleys to put my bag and almost-fur coat on so I had to carry that all while applying some Dior perfume and checking out other shops.

Finally I arrived at Schiphol with no modelling ambitions and a strong wish to get home as soon as possible. That’s when I spent 30 minutes standing while waiting for my luggage. I expected it to appear on the baggage belt any moment, so why bother to sit down? I was wrong. I spent more than an hour waiting for my suitcase and went home without it. Lost. There was a pair of very fine heelless shoes in it...

So why do women travel on high heels?

Exciting

2011-12-12T21:52:00.000+01:00

Digital boarding passes (provided you have a smartphone. Don’t you?) Security scans, however annoying and time consuming – they do get better and better equipment. Information screens – loads of information, all useful.

Terminals. Gates. Arrivals. Departures. Transfers. Conveyor belts. Moving walkways. Mind your step (it’s only cool if the voice says that when someone approaches. If the voice keeps repeating that in equal intervals – that’s an old system – boo!)

Check in desks for passengers travelling with animals. SkyLine train without a conductor to bring people to the more remote parts. Toilets that flush themselves. Water coming out of the tap automatically. WiFi.

Food may be expensive, but boy there’s choice! Waiting areas made to look like living rooms – I wish my living room would even remotely resemble one of those. Museum. See. Buy. Fly. Casino. Chapel. Mosque. Synagogue.

Lights...Planes!

Airports in all countries have more in common with each other than with the countries they are actually situated in. All this abundance of technology ever growing in its complexity. One may find it frightening, but I love it. I get excited just at the thought of travelling by air. Can’t wait to do it again!

Cold

2011-12-07T23:56:00.000+01:00

I am cold. [Now go ahead and make that how-can-you-be-cold-you-come-from-a-cold-country joke. Yawn.]

I’m so cold it makes me want to hibernate for the next two months. I took a hot shower and tried to think of a vacation in some place warm. I would have to dig out my summer clothes and sun screen. I’d cut out a large piece of the winter and replace it by summer. That all seemed nice until the thought of getting off the plane back in Amsterdam ruined the idyll.

I am cold and it makes me want to put on several layers of clothes. You know, like a wool cardigan on top of a wool sweater with a vest and a long-sleeve underneath. Like panty under the trousers. Like keeping the scarf on the whole day. And preferably also the hat.

I am cold and it makes me want to put the heating up to 25C and not switch it off till May. Buy a car just for the sake of being able to heat it up to the comfortable temperature level. Hold a cup full of hot tea in my hands all the time. Sit on a warm radiator.

I am cold and it makes me want to crawl under three layers of blankets. While wearing a wool cardigan on top of a wool sweater with a vest and a long-sleeve underneath. And panty under the trousers. And a scarf. And preferably also the hat. While holding a cup of hot tea in my hands.

How long will the winter last?

Some eye candy from Vorontsov.

Madmen

2011-12-05T23:19:00.001+01:00

I am looking back at the party at my place last Saturday and realise that I have a bunch of totally crazy friends. That shouldn’t surprise me, who else would want to be friends with me? If you read on you will agree. Some conversation bits from Saturday night:

A: Take anything you want, but not the keyboard hoover!
Me: I know you need it badly, but have you seen my keyboard?
She won the hoover, but after inspecting my keyboard left it at my desk anyway.

D: Oh I may pick the nicest present. Hey! Give me that little Russian monster!
J1, J2, O, M1, E and me (in one voice): It’s not a monster! It’s Cheburashka!
I: Take the candy g-string, it’s much nicer.
D: Ok, give me the g-string then.

M2: I have to take something from B. I want the food fighters.
B: The food fighters are not mine anymore. You may choose between modelling balloons and a.. ehm... a thingy.

Somebody has received a candle in a jar. We all sniffed at it and afterwards some people claimed to be hallucinating.

For some reason two or three people were fighting for the set of three CDs of “Original Christmas Classics”...

I won a yellow door handle sign with a skull and the word ‘Danger!’ on it. I am going to put in my cabin luggage and use in hotels.

We started at 19:00 on Saturday, the last guest left at 04:45 on Sunday.

Music that fits this madness: Chinese Man – Get up

DNA-spray

2011-11-29T21:56:00.001+01:00

Today I saw this sign in Amsterdam. It says: “Area protected with DNA spray”. As I had no idea what DNA spray was, my mind painted pictures of DNA material being sprayed... Well that just couldn’t be right.

But it’s not what you think. At least not what I thought. DNA spray is a tool spraying synthetic DNA material in the air in case of robbery. It’s invisible and not easy to wash off. It lights up under black light. This way police can find criminals and especially prove their involvement in the crime.

I just wonder: if the DNA spray is released in the air it will also down on other people, right? If you want to avoid misunderstandings keep clear of black lights after you’ve witnessed a robbery in a shop.

Russian

2011-11-27T23:55:00.000+01:00

“I think the woman can speak Russian”, I said after looking at the couple seated at the table beside ours.
“I think so too”, answered my companion. “Look at that furry thing she’s wearing”, he said amused with her rabbit hair knit vest.

Even though we could see only her back we both were pretty confident about the origins of this woman. The main evidence was the white vest. It was accompanied by hair coloured in different rather unnatural shades of blond and well manicured and polished, rather long, nails. When she turned her head I saw a large shiny earring. It was striking how easily recognisable her background was.

“Aren’t you ashamed to be with me? Aren’t you afraid people will laugh at you, or rather at me?”, I asked imagining that I myself in my blue Cora Kemperman dress, brown leather jacket and red hat was as easily identifiable.

“No, you are not THAT obvious”, he smiled.

Totally irrelevant:
&lt;p&gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://milogreene.bandcamp.com/track/1957"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;1957 by Milo Greene&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&lt;/p&gt;

Progress

2011-11-24T23:59:00.000+01:00

Yesterday on a train I overheard a conversation of two women about preserving the cultures of African tribes and ethnic minorities in South America. They were talking about traditional clothing, rituals and songs.

I never really thought about it, but yesterday this idea suddenly struck me. What if by helping them to preserve their culture we actually prevent them from developing? The reason that we don’t walk around in wooden shoes and dance around fire is that we’ve moved on. We have better shoes and nicer places to dance. We’ve got a lot of other stuff too. And we are proud of it.

The next thought that occurred to me was even more peculiar. If a country is trying to revive already vanished traditional culture (costumes, music, cuisine) isn’t it making steps backwards? May that holding onto the ‘traditional values’ be at least part of the reason why a country does not develop to its full potential?

What do you think, is this song a sign of progress or is it clinging to the past and resisting progress?
Ivan Kupala - Kostroma

Fear

2011-11-22T01:35:00.001+01:00

Fear! That’s how many companies in today’s economy earn their money. Insurances are extremely good at it. They let us pay them money because we’re afraid. We’re afraid to get ill, to have our house destroyed by a fire, to get robbed while abroad, to die. We’re afraid, afraid and afraid. To get rid of that fear we give money to companies that do not produce anything. Moreover, they don’t actually prevent us from getting ill and our house from burning down. They will not make sure we don’t get robbed or die. They will leave it all to chance. And we pay them anyway. What an ingenious concept!

Another industry flourishing on fear is the cosmetics industry. Not as good as insurances though as they have to actually give you stuff in exchange for your money, but still good enough a business. Their specialty is our fear to get old or to appear ugly. And they are damn good at depriving us of our money! They even have the nerve to promise us their nicely smelling substances packed in pretty tubes and jars actually work. And we pay them.

Take me for example. My skin is getting less pretty with the years and I use more and more skin products. Even though I understand that the changes of my skin are the result of the unstoppable ageing process I still don’t dare to take the risk. If I’d saved the money I spent on skin products and the time I spent visiting a beautician and applying those products for the past ten years, I could have easily made a trip around the world.

Instead I walked into a cosmetics store today to buy a new foundation (the old bottle is almost empty). Without actually wanting it I found myself in a high chair in front of a mirror. A girl was applying foundation on half of my face. “Do you use a primer under your foundation?” she asked. A primer! Exactly! That’s what I miss next to my deep cleansing scrub, cleansing foam, cleansing milk, refreshing tonic lotion, rebalancing cream mask, cellular treatment gel, sun cream SPF 30, moisturising cream, smoothing eye cream and the foundation. A primer! I left the chair as soon as the second half of my face was covered, had another girl recommend me a foundation about €10 more expensive than the one I used before, paid and ran out of the store. A primer?! Thanks, but no, thanks!

I am afraid that I’m not THAT afraid. Yet...

Tests

2011-11-19T23:59:00.000+01:00

I like taking psychological or life style tests of all sorts because the outcomes usually make me feel good about myself. Not that I desperately need reassurance, but a little boost is never wasted. Tonight I spent two hours taking tests on Youbeaty just to discover that I am a healthy arrogant female between 30 and 53 lacking sleep and dissatisfied with her sexual life.

I might reconsider my attitude towards tests.

December stress

2011-11-17T23:59:00.000+01:00

December stress – for some people it’s so bad, they seek help. Of course, if holidays give you so much stress that you need help, you’d better get help. I honestly think half a country needs help.

Although, I can see where the stress is coming from. First there’s all this Sinterklaas happening. I have no clue how the parents cope. They certainly don’t look healthy the couple of weeks prior to 5th of December. But at least it’s clear where and with whom you will celebrate that. If you have kids, the childless relatives will gather at your place. If you don’t have kids, you go to somebody who does. Or you don’t go anywhere.

Then you get Christmas. Christians (still a majority in the Netherlands) go crazy. Each year you’ll have to decide where you’ll be spending the two days of Christmas. And no matter what your options are you never win. There aren’t many options really. You can stay at home and pretend to ignore the whole happening. Except you can’t. You cannot go anywhere because it’s either fully booked and has a special Christmas programme or is unreachable. You will see Christmas out of your window, on your TV and in your mailbox. And don’t forget to buy enough food – the shops will be closed!

You can host a Christmass dinner at your place. You will spend three weeks planning the menu and buying decorations, one week decorating and buying food, two days actually cooking and one evening serving your friends and family all the stuff you cooked.

You can skip that and go for a dinner at someone else’s place, most probably family. You will spend at least a month negotiating whether you spend the first day with your parents and the second with the parents of your partner or another way around. After that is settled, you’ll try to squeeze in a Christmas brunch hosted by your sister-in-law and visit two or three still living grandparents. You will spend two days dressed in uncomfortable black glittery clothes eating food among hideous decorations and discussing family matters.

If you got through December without serious traumas, food poisonings and family conflicts or arguments with your partner – congratulations! I’ll gladly share a bottle of Champaign with you at the New Year’s eve. But to be sincere – being single and having no family in the near vicinity does have some advantages.

Happy December stress everybody!

Signe Tollefsen - Where You Been

Identity crisis

2011-11-13T23:59:00.000+01:00

In the Age Of Empires 3 Board Game colonists are placed in the event boxes during the turn to claim the space and perform the action depicted in the event box. Specialists can perform the same function as the basic colonists but also have unique extra abilities. Merchant ships can be combined with trade goods to form “sets” that generate income. There are trade goods, money, capital buildings, discovery counters and discovery cards. You can place your figurines in event boxes or regions.

If you want to win you need to buy capital buildings that give you people every turn. For that you need money. To get money you need to collect three similar trade goods or buy a building that gives you money each turn. To buy a building you need money. And of course the building has to be available. To buy the best building you need to claim the 1-space through the initiative track. If you do that, you’ll lose one colonist. But because you only have five colonists each round, you might want to spend them for getting specialists – captains, soldiers, merchants and missionaries. Captains and merchants give you more weight when getting a merchant ship or during the discoveries. Soldiers are good to earn money while discovering new continents. They also can fight during conflicts to defend colonies. Colonies are necessary to earn winning points. To build colonies you need colonists and specialists. You get five colonists each turn, but you also lose loads. To get specialists you need to place a colonist in the merchant space, but then you will lose your colonist. To get extra specialists you need to buy capital buildings. And for that you need money...

Is this game for nerds? Absolutely! Did I play? Yes. Does that make me a nerd? I guess to a certain extent. Did I come any close to winning? Nope. Am I a beauty or a nerd? Help! Identity crisis...

A melancholy time

2011-11-10T23:35:00.001+01:00

The big tree in my neighbours’ garden was changing colours. From green to yellow, to golden to brown. Like the trees in the Zuiderpark not far from my house. Green-yellow-red-golden-brown. Like the trees along the canal. Like the trees covering the hills around Tübingen last week – breathtakingly beautiful. Like autumn in the parks of Kiev. Yes... like in Kiev...

Somehow I always end up in Kiev. Fall scenery everywhere no matter how gorgeous is always just a reminder of the fall in Kiev. Just as blooming chestnuts in The Hague are a reminder of Kiev’s chestnut prelude to the summer in the beginning of May. Kiev just won’t let me go...

A melancholy time! So charming to the eye!

Your beauty in its parting pleases me -

I love the lavish withering of nature,

The gold and scarlet raiment of the woods,

The crisp wind rustling o'er their threshold,

The sky engulfed by tides of rippled gloom,

The sun's scarce rays, approaching frosts,

And gray-haired winter threatening from afar.

Morning drama

2011-11-08T11:52:00.000+01:00

“The kindergarten opens at 7:30, but don’t worry about that. You can sleep as long as you want. He will not wake up till 7:00 or even 7:30” Wow! I can sleep as long as I want till 7:30. Do you also feel a discrepancy in this statement or is it just me?

The morning with the three-years-old son of my friend started very promising. He woke up at 7:30 sharp and with a bright smile started showing me his toys. But as we moved to the kitchen to get breakfast his buoyancy started to deteriorate in a rapid tempo.

“Where’s mama?” “She’s gone to work. She told you that aunt Sasha would be taking you to the kindergarten today, didn’t she?” “I’m going to look for papa.” “OK.”

Obviously, papa was not there. “Aaaaaaaa! Where’s papaaaaaaa?!” “He’ll come tonight. Let’s have breakfast.” “Noooooo! I want to my papaaaaaa!” “Drink your milk before it gets cold.” “Nooooo!”

After some negotiations we managed to make it to the table and start eating the breakfast while counting animals in a children’s book. That’s when the phone rang. The concerned mother wanted to know how things were going.

“Who’s that?” “It’s your mother.” “May I talk to her?” I guessed ‘no’ was not an option and handed over the phone. “Mamaaaaaaaaa! Aaaaaaaaa! You have to come home nowoouuuuaaaaa!”

Now everybody was upset: the boy because his mother was away; the mother because her child was crying bitter tears on the phone; me because I had to start negotiations all over again.

“Drink your milk.” “Noooooo! Go away!” “If I go away, you’ll be here completely alone. You don’t want that, do you?” “Yes I dooooo! Go away!” Crap.

After counting all the animals in the book seven times we finally finished the breakfast.

“Let’s wash your face, otherwise they won’t let you in.” “Nooooo!” “You can’t go to the kindergarten so dirty. Other kids won’t play with you.” “I am not going to the kindergarten. I’m going to wait for mama and papa.”

Sometime later I chased the kid around the house with a toothbrush. To prevent another round of drama I let the boy put stickers on the wall while I was dressing him up. I hope the stickers are easily removable. Otherwise, dear friends, I am very sorry.

“OK, we have our shoes and coats on, let’s go outside.” “I am going to look for papa and mama.” “Yes. Outside.”

At 9:10 I delivered the child at the kindergarten. What a relief! “Everything is fine” I texted my friend. She texted back: “Thanks a lot! Did you enjoy your time with him? You should visit us more often.” Hmmmm.

How do you, people with kids, can do this every morning? And with more kids? I don’t even dare to think of that.

High standards

2011-11-04T22:30:00.000+01:00

My friend and I were discussing my yesterday’s blog post and both agreed that a man writing with mistakes is a no-go. A man who doesn’t speak his languages is not particularly attractive either. Guys with an IQ below 125 will not be considered. Steady (high) income is required. Men who are still searching in terms of their professional development have little chance.

A car stopped next to us. The door opened: “Hi girls! Where are you going?” We were so uninspired by this cheap attempt to make contact tha we didn’t even bother to stop. “At least he was the right age range” I said trying to look at things positively. “Yeah, but not the right weight range” my friend replied dryly.

Poor men! I don’t envy you.

Terez Montcalm - Sweet Dreams

Sehr gut

2011-11-03T23:41:00.000+01:00

I was reading my morning newspaper today and kept on stumbling upon mistakes. Luckily there were no spelling mistakes, but plenty of skipped words, wrong word order and other stylistic disorders. Mistakes are annoying. Very annoying. Really.

I’m not talking about misspellings and mistakes in status updates, tweets, chats or text messages. Typed fast, often from a phone they are doomed to contain mistakes that are a pity, but no more than that. Although I do tend to remove my tweets and type them over if I notice a mistake. I also have a lot of respect for people whose tweets and status updates are always mistake free. But when it comes to texts that were supposed to be written, read, edited, reread and edited again I am rather unforgiving.

I take grammar very seriously. As I write this I realise that when it comes to ‘measuring’ someone’s influence on me their writing would give quite an accurate picture. I tend to accept the authority of those who write well and disregard opinions and expertise of those who misspell or make stylistic mistakes. Even if the subject of their expertise has nothing to do with languages.

Some time ago I translated my resume to German as homework for my German class. Yesterday I received it back corrected by the teacher. “Sehr gut!” – she wrote on top of the paper. The two pages contained seven mistakes. That can’t be ‘sehr gut’! It’s not even ‘gut’ – there are mistakes. It took me a whole day to calm down about it and accept that mistakes are a part of the learning process and if my teacher says my work is ‘sehr gut!’ I’d better be proud of myself. I even played with the idea of accepting that not all people have the talent for languages and I should rather look at the essence of the message before turning it down because of the bad grammar. But no. I hate mistakes and I will consider unsubscribing from my newspaper if I stumble upon four or more mistakes in one article ever again.

Tübingen

2011-11-02T23:47:00.000+01:00

Tübingen has a lovely town centre, beautiful river and a lot of nature outside of town. Up the hill there are very nice houses where people live. Jewellery shopping is fun. Other shops look promising too. Theatre is crap – don’t go there. You can better go to a salsa party. Although, if you have a choice, you’d better do that in Italy.

I had a wonderful time: I shopped, danced, went for a long walk in the woods and had some typical German food. And spoke very little German. What a shame!

On the German note: 17 Hippies - Herz auf der Zunge
And if you're interested - the lyrics are here.

Penetration

2011-10-26T23:30:00.000+02:00

The room was full, no empty chairs. When the first presentation started everyone had a smartphone in their hands. When I say everyone I mean everyone. Every single person had a smartphone in their hands. All fifty eight of us. Smartphone penetration = 100%. And everyone used their phone during the presentation at least once. Including the person presenting. He used his phone as a remote control. Some phones made sounds and nobody seemed to mind. The phone of the speaker went off at the end of the presentation. He didn’t pick up. But if he’d done that, probably no one would mind.

It’s not science fiction. It’s real. The world and our perception of things is changing. Fast.

#$^%&*

2011-10-25T01:42:00.000+02:00

“I like you in every aspect as long as you don’t swear.” A man told me this once. I can see his point. Russian swearwords are rude beyond any imagination and a woman using them looses all or most of her charm very quickly.

I don’t use swearwords in Russian often. At least, usually I don’t. But today someone on Twitter asked about the gender of a Russian swearword. I am a sucker for grammar rules so I responded enthusiastically and, to make my point clear I used two similar swearwords of different gender in one tweet. Someone else responded too, there was a discussion and swearwords flew back and forth. As a cherry on the cake a friend retweeted my initial tweet with the two swearwords letting the world enjoy my illustration of Russian grammar.

Now I guess many people think I’m a low educated, semi-criminal, illegal, drug addicted, vodka drinking prostitute. Because in that case such use of language is totally justified. Oh well...

As a means of compensation: 17 Hippies - Frau von Ungefähr. My German is not so good yet, though. They might as well be swearing for the entire four minutes.

Go ahead this. Maybe this'll help to clean my reputation. Thanks!

Reincarnation

2011-10-22T23:59:00.000+02:00

He: Do you believe in reincarnation?
Me: No.
He (disappointed): Oh, what a pity!
Me: Why?
He: I want to see you in my next life. Then I’d marry you. I know your family name, so I can ask for you at the gate. But unfortunately you don’t believe in reincarnation...

Indeed, I do not believe in reincarnation just as I don’t share in any other religious belief. As I heard this, I felt an urge to ask some questions. For example: do they know there at the gate how my name is spelled in different alphabets? What if I’m a man in my next life? What if I am a lot younger or a lot older then? Will they allow you to choose where to go? I thought a person was not fully aware of their former life besides the belief that there had been one. So how is he going to remember his intention to marry me?

Belief and rationality don’t go so well together. And, with this possible marriage in mind, maybe it’s not so bad I don’t believe in reincarnation. ;)

Rupa & the April Fishes - Une americaine a Paris

Melancholia

2011-10-20T23:49:00.000+02:00

As we all know Lars von Trier is not afraid to be different. Melancholia shows he’s also not afraid to be slightly less different. Which doesn’t do any wrong to his new masterpiece.

Melancholia is a drama you accept and embrace although you keep hoping it won’t really happen in the end. It does anyway. That. Plus breathtaking photography.

Occupy yourself

2011-10-18T21:22:00.000+02:00

Occupy [put the name of your city here] has surprisingly led to an explosion of emotions that I was trying to conceal, but don’t see the point of it anymore. So I am going to rant now.

First of all it’s a mass protest. And you may know what I think of those. And then, what are these people demonstrating against? Or in favour of? Excesses of capitalism was a very common statement of the Dutch protestors. Which is... eh... what are those exactly?

That’s when it starts – everybody has their own example, but most people named exorbitantly high salaries of the high bank executives and reckless bank policies including too high interest rates and careless investments. But how did the banks get the money they pay to their executives? Wait – we gave them the money ourselves! Because we’ve been borrowing the money to buy new cars, install new kitchens and go on vacation. Because we were willing to buy obscure insurances. Because we buy houses we actually cannot afford without the help of the government. No wonder banks lost it. The money kept flowing in effortlessly, so why be careful and not reward the executives? Do you have a right to complain if you have a new car, sit on a new couch in your way too expensive house insured against everything, even against an occasional attack of Smurfs armed with sticks made of green chewing gum?

And then, usually when you go camping you do prepare well, right? You do bring your own tent AND the foil to put underneath, don’t you? So why didn’t you now? Why are you asking me through your site to bring you chairs, tents, umbrellas, blankets, food, drinks, medicines and teddy bears?!And while you are there, do you make sure you don’t ruin stuff I paid for through the taxes? No, you don’t – look at Rome. And cleaning up the mess after you in every other city will cost extra money too.

So, please, go and #occupy yourself with something useful.

My cat vs iOS5

2011-10-16T22:15:00.000+02:00

Last Friday I was determined to make another step towards a healthy relationship with my cat but the iOS5 update of my iPhone made it nearly impossible. I never thought that my cat and iOS5 would cross paths.

I bought a cat flap. The only thing that I needed to do was to call a contractor and agree on the date for him to come and install the flap in my kitchen door. I picked up my phone ready to call and discovered that because of the iOS5 update the night before my phone lost some numbers.

Never mind. I have a WhatsApp message with his number. I just have to look it up. I headed for the WhatsApp messages and discovered they are not there. Because of the iOS5 update.

No problem. I got his number from another contractor. I’ll just call him and ask for the number. Oh, wait! I don’t have his number anymore. It disappeared after the iOS5 update.

Oh well, there’s Google. I found the number of one contractor, texted him, received the number of the other and made a phone call. “You have the flap? All right, what dates would be suitable for you?” – “Let me check my diary.” I open the calendar on my phone and realise... Yes. I lost all the past and future calendar content. All my appointments – gone! Because of the bloody iOS5 update.

“Well, Monday and Friday should be fine. I guess...” – I finally said. The man felt the doubt in my voice. “Let me call you back on Monday” – he replied. I agreed, although I was sure I wouldn’t be able to recover all the lost appointments by Monday.

Now I am trying to explain to my cat what iOS5 is. She said “meow”. Not sure she understood, though.

I listen to this to calm down: Philip Glass - Einstein On The Beach – Knee 1

Wrong

2011-10-11T21:54:00.000+02:00

I received a Wordfeud request today. I set the first word and immediately get a chat message.

“Sasja, is that you?”
“Yes. And who are you?”
“Don’t you recognise me?”
“No the photo is too small.”
“Guess!”

That was the last thing I was going to do. I set another word and moved on with my life.

“Coward!”

This kind of remarks never had any motivating effect on me.

“A kiss from Ravi. x”
“A kiss from who?”
“Ow. You must be the wrong Sasja then.”

Good I didn’t try to guess.

Follow

2011-10-10T23:59:00.000+02:00

Today’s zouk lesson. “Now gentlemen put your hands on the upper arms of your ladies. Pull the shoulders of your lady up and turn them towards you. Now let the shoulders drop again. Pull the right shoulder up and let go again. Ladies, follow your men! Don’t listen to me! Don’t think. Just feel your man and follow. Now change partners. Everybody has to do this with everybody. Go!”

I figured out that if close my eyes it’s much easier to feel and follow without thinking. In front of me a non-Dutch speaking guy. I see him for the first time in my life. Then I close my eyes and don’t see him. I let him play with my shoulders and let my head sway along. “That’s nice!” I hear him say.

That’s when I realise how weird the whole exercise is. While women concentrate on not concentrating (most with closed eyes) men pull and push our shoulders and watch us closely for the effect. Within half-an-hour eight different men held me in their hands and watched me follow their movements. After the exercise some guys looked quite shaken. Apparently this was something most men don’t get to experience very often.

There’s more to dancing than just dancing. I have sore muscles on my neck and shoulders.

We danced to this tonight: Adele – Rolling In The Deep

Dreams of Rivers & Seas

2011-10-07T23:37:00.000+02:00

Dreams of Rivers & Seas by Tim Parks is a novel, but it feels alarmingly real. It gets you involved, makes sure you reach for your knowledge of life, your experience, your fears and dreams. And then it withdraws because it’s still a novel and you can never change anything that happened in it. Cruel.

The novel is also extremely cruel to its characters. All the way through the book I was wondering how the author was able to do all this to the people he created. It must have been difficult. Several times I had to remind myself that it’s just a book, fiction. Otherwise I couldn’t sleep longing to do something. Go to India, talk to people, prevent things from happening! Or simply weep. Remarkably, the book has a happy end. For what it’s worth.

And now don’t spare yourself. Read it.

Official

2011-10-06T00:11:00.001+02:00

I am going to make it official! And I will announce it to the world on my Facebook wall. There will be photos and presents. And from then on there will be loads of love.

But first the necessary arrangements. My home is not equipped for two so I’ll have to call the contractor. This relationship will have to be registered with some authorities and organisations. And it all has to be ready before the last weekend of October.

I am not sharing my cat anymore!

Yasmin Levy - Mano Suave - Una Noche Mas

Purpose

2011-10-02T23:30:00.000+02:00

Last night I had this little conversation:

Me: “I feel a little uncomfortable when a man pays €80 for food or activities to spend an evening with me. Somehow it doesn’t feel right.”

He: “Why not? Men should pay. What other purpose do we have?”

Shot this picture at the port yesterday.

Toilets

2011-09-30T00:34:00.000+02:00

My German lessons take place at the Deutsche Internationale Schule in The Hague. It’s an ordinary school: concierge, gym, classrooms and children’s drawings on the wall. Announcements are in German, I guess that’s different from Dutch schools, but for the rest – it’s a school. And you know it as soon as you enter. There’s nothing special about it.

I remember my school. Concierge. Gym. Classrooms. No children’s drawings on the wall. Sometimes there were exhibitions of drawings. Only the best drawings were allowed. Obviously, they never put mine on the wall. They didn’t want to disturb public order I guess. There were portraits of Lenin in each classroom. Deutsche Internationale Schule doesn’t have any portraits in classrooms. How do they condition their youth?!

I went to the toilet after the lesson and that’s where I got surprised: the white and red tiles, superstar mirrors, garbage bins built in the walls, and design pots, sinks and taps. Besides from being super fancy, these toilets are also the very definition of clean. I remembered my school. The toilets. I will not describe them here – better for the public order. One thought struck me when I was washing my hands: if my school had had such toilets, what would have become of me?

Doomed

2011-09-27T19:15:00.000+02:00

Facebook has introduced the new profile. Yes, again. And yes, the privacy settings changed too. I’ve spent last four days trying to make a chart that would help to determine the level of one’s privacy on Facebook. I’ll be honest – I failed. Privacy on Facebook is an elaborate 3-d model. Making it would require a computer program with an extensive algorithm and hopefully less than seven million years. But you may see the result of my naïve struggle and hopefully learn something from it.

Imagine you’re a public figure in the spotlight for some reason. With your current privacy settings how likely are you to survive the (yellow) press that are searching for any personal information to feed the hunger of the masses? Let me know! (Click on the image to see it in its full size.)

According to my chart I am doomed! Still that is not a good enough reason to abandon my privacy settings and share everything with the public. Because my privacy settings affect my friends a great deal. I might be willing to share private things with the world (which I very often do on this blog), but I certainly can’t expect all my friends to be this way. So, believe it or not, even I am quite careful when it comes to the Facebook privacy settings.

I don’t mean to scare you. Remember that Facebook is nothing more than a reflection of your real life. Just refrain from doing and saying things you could be (or should be) ashamed of. Then I am sure, whatever your privacy settings are – you’ll be fine!

Feel free to share!

My first

2011-09-21T23:46:00.001+02:00

Guten Abend! Mein Name ist Sasha und ich bin siebenunddreißig Jahre alt. (page 8) But after my first German lesson I feel as if I where three. Or ninety three depending on how you look at it. If I am to learn German I’ll certainly need more challenge.

Wie heißen Sie? Woher kommen Sie? (page 9 of our study book) Petra (die Lehrerin) kommt aus Deutschland. Albert Einstein auch. (page 9) But he is not in our group. There are seven people in our group. Lucio kommt aus Italien. May kommt aus Taiwan. Alex kommt aus Kamerun. April kommt aus den USA. Victor kommt aus Russland. We also have Mohammed. Er kommt aus Marokko. And myself aus der Ukraine.

Leonardo da Vinci kommt aus Italien. (still on page 9) „Lucio, could you please name a famous Italian person?“ „Apart from Berlusconi, you mean?“ – Lucio pauses to think. „Mussolini“ – Victor suggests.

Homework: write about yourself using the words and sentences from pages 8 and 9. I think I’ll skip to page 32. My German pronunciation sucks.

Ich weiss warum - 2raumwohnung

Puzzled

2011-09-20T00:40:00.000+02:00

I think I shouldn’t spend so much time with men. They make me less feminine. Men persuade me to engage in more active sports and activities than I’d usually do. Some time ago one man managed to make me climb a mountain. He didn’t really ask whether I wanted to, he confronted me with the plan. I did enjoy it a lot, but just the idea.

Today another man pushed me even further – I did some 45 minutes of waterskiing. Well, at least I tried. I managed to stand on the skis for about one minutes three times. The rest of the time I was swimming. He said he was proud of me.

What’s next: ice hockey? Car racing? Boxing? I thought men liked feminine women. But then why do they like to perform masculine activities with me? This puzzles me a little.

It’s been a while since I sent you to Vorontsov, but he didn’t stop making wonderful photos.

Temptation

2011-09-18T02:12:00.000+02:00

My back and shoulders were giving me troubleagain. I suffered the whole day at work. I had to go for a swim to make it tothe next day. Swimming is the answer!

I got home, changed, had a very fastdinner, packed my bag and checked the opening hours of the swimming pools inThe Hague. Only one was still open. It’d take about thirty minutes by bike, andonce I’d get there I’d have about an hour to swim. Good enough.

‘You have a little more than half-an-hourbefore the closing time’ – I was warned by the man at the counter. ‘But yourwebsite... Never mind.’ I ran to the changing rooms. Thirty minutes is verylittle. I changed and locked my stuff. I had to pee, but didn’t find a toiletinside the changing area. ‘I’ll do it on my way back’ – I thought heading forthe pool.

The small sport pool was occupied by agroup doing aqua aerobics. I was bound to use the recreation pool withunderwater lighting, curves and streams. On the bright side - I had it all tomyself. I used my time to the max and got out only when they started switchingoff the lights.

By now I needed to pee really bad. But Istill had to shower, put my clothes on and pack my things. That would take sometime even if I skipped the hairdryer. I stood in the shower letting warm waterflow over me. My bladder was now threatening to explode.

I looked at the aqua aerobics women. Theywere chatting, picking up their things, slowly approaching. But they were still far enough. The thoughtwas too tempting, but I’d have to make up my mind really quick: ‘If I am fastand discreet...’ I watched the women approaching...

Lost

2011-09-15T22:54:00.000+02:00

So she met this man. He said he loved her. Apparently she wanted to believe it. Maybe it was true. It all depends on one’s definition of love really. In a couple of weeks she transformed into a person none of us was able to recognise anymore.

In a rapid tempo she was giving up things she'd always claimed to stand for. She stopped dancing. She changed her religion without even noticing it. She lost touch with men who wanted more from her. Then with men she used to be close with. She moved to another city giving up her apartment. Then she called her female friends with a formal announcement that she didn’t want any contact.

I was one of the lucky ones to receive a phonecall. “I now have a man who does everything for me. I am very happy.” - she said in a dry formal voice. Yesterday she deleted her Facebook and Hyves accounts wiping off contact possibility with many people at once. How long before she gives up her LinkedIn, changes her e-mail address and both phonenumbers?

I am now torn between being angry at her for abandoning me just like that and being scared for her sensing a future in total isolation. I know I can’t save her because she absolutely doesn’t want to be saved. But what am I to do? Lose her out of sight and pretend everything’s fine? I don’t know...

I don’t know why, but I found this song very comforting today: Elin Ruth Sigvardsson - Dead Man Walking (you’d better listen to this song on Spotfy, though)

Monsters

2011-09-12T23:39:00.000+02:00

The train had just departed and I was still busy with my tea and croissants (breakfast) when I accidentally overheard two men talking. “So what do you want to become when you’re done with your studies?” “A physics teacher.” That’s when I looked up from my breakfast surprised and curious. The man in his early thirties looked like a secondary school teacher already.

Why on Earth one would want to become a teacher?! I remember a young mathematics teacher who was supposed to teach us while our regular teacher was ill. Believe it or not, I was a very quiet and well behaved kid. But even I failed to behave during those classes. The guy was called Eduard Aleksandrovich and I was replacing his first name with: leopard, erudite, parasite, etc.

I remember participating in humming actions against the teacher of Russian. All children were humming with their mouths closed and if the teacher approached you, you’d stop making sound. As soon as she’d move away you resumed humming again. So she was moving in a bubble of silence through the humming space and no one could be punished.

I remember singing during geography classes and minding my own totally irrelevant business during the lessons of Ukrainian (in case you were wondering why my Ukrainian is so bad – that’s why). I remember the whole class building an ingenious construction around the class door to make sure the chemistry teacher would get hit by a mop and get water splashed all over him as soon as he’d open the door. It worked. I remember... too much to describe here!

So why on Earth people would want to become a teacher when they risk all this happening to them? Never say never. But children are monsters and you’ll never find me in front of a classroom!

Maia Hirasawa - The Wrong Way

Knitting

2011-09-09T23:43:00.000+02:00

I was passing that nice knitting shop on the Westeinde and couldn’t help peeking in. A group of women sat around the table in the middle of the shop – chatting, knitting. No, not a group of women. There was one man at the table. Just as the rest of the group he had some knitting project in his hands. It’s very unusual to see a man indulge in such a typically feminine activity.

Women have gone a long way in claiming their right to do stuff that was considered men’s domain. But it seems men are either bound to the traditional pattern (and an enormous pressure to comply) or are torn between the traditional pattern and attempts to comply with the feminist view of the world order. But what is it that men really want?

Do men in our society have a free choice when deciding on their behaviour, occupation and hobbies? They now seem to take a more active role in the household and childcare and some are very happy at least with the latter. Still it seems this kind of development is initiated by women.

We have allowed them to work in typically female professions, we've let them take over some of the household tasks, we've even made them shave their armpits. But what do men really want? And when will they stand up for their right to get it? For their right to take part in a knitting club without looking strange?

Photo by Wolfgang Josten

Absolute beginner

2011-09-08T00:57:00.000+02:00

So following my intention to not get a baby, but learn German I went to the Goethe Institute today and enrolled myself on a course of German language.

I made an attempt to take the basic test they offer to determine the level. The test confirmed – I’m an absolute beginner. I don’t like beginners’ language groups. I tend to comprehend the material twice as fast and feel bored and annoyed for the rest of the time. But the lady assured me I can switch to a higher level if I move fast enough. And that’s what I am determined to do!

I found it very amusing that the ‘intake’ lady could not speak Dutch very well. I haven’t seen many Germans stumbling over Dutch. :)

Excited I went back to The Hague. The lessons start in two weeks, I can’t wait. I got off the train and headed for the book shop to get my dictionaries. I was all consumed with my excitement, trying to speak German in my head already, when I saw a homeless man on the sidewalk. He was consumed with polishing his shoes with a piece of toilet paper.

It’s remarkable how two people at the same time in the same place can be concerned with such totally different things. I bought my dictionaries. And I’m still very excited.

Absolute Beginners- Carla Bruni

A baby?!

2011-09-06T02:06:00.001+02:00

The words reached me and revealed their meaning a few seconds after the waitress had finished the sentence. I got this funny feeling again. The one that had been haunting me for the past two days. Only this time I suddenly felt more. I felt it was time for the next step. I took a deep breath and before I realised what was happening I asked a question. In that princely restaurant in Vaduz on my birthday, there and then for the first time in my life I asked a question in correct German!

No, I am not going to have a baby as the majority of the voters suggested! As long as there’s no dedicated father (extremely high standards apply!), there’ll be no baby. So thirteen of twenty six voters can relax – no Spotify for those.

No eco farm either. It’s not because I’m opposed to eco (although some people might think so), but because farm isn’t quite the right environment for an urban creature like me. Apparently most of the voters (all except for three) know that about me. Although, with my adventurous nature and the ability to change direction, one never knows...

Flying lessons are no longer a no-go area, but I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. I might want to polish my driving skills first. So, no flying lessons. Not yet. To those six voters – thank you for your trust in me.

Most people voted for the sake of voting and didn’t care to let me know their choice (which was required to be able to win the prize). Of four people that voted for German, only one revealed his identity to me. So we have a winner and I’ll contact him to get his Spotify premium to him.

I am sorry to disappoint you, but no baby. I am going to learn German! This might not sound very exciting to you, but I am very excited. Tomorrow I am going to Goethe Institute in Rotterdam to determine at which level I should start. Yay!

I love the police

2011-09-04T19:59:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I got locked at a cemetery. Yes a cemetery. The Portuguese-Israelite Cemetery. I came there to see it and to make photos. No I didn’t climb over the wall, I came through the gate. Yes, the gate was open. No, I was not hiding. There’s no place to hide anyway. Unless one would lie under a gravestone. I didn’t.
No I didn’t panic when I found the gate was closed. I was just very thirsty and rather excited. Because I had to call the police! So I did. They said they’d send someone and asked me to wait in the meanwhile. As if I had any choice!

If you ever go somewhere where you could be locked in, make sure you have a smartphone with you with internet access. Because if you do, it’ll allow you to search internet for help. And when you don’t find anything useful on the internet you’ll be able to call the police. And while you wait for the police you can entertain your friends with Twitter and Facebook updates and comfort yourself with Wordfeud and some music. I did all of the above. I found Klezmer very appropriate for the occasion.

Police came within ten, maybe fifteen minutes. A guy on a bike, that is. He was good looking, friendly, practical and fast. He talked to a colleague in the office, knocked on the door of the warden’s house, walked around to examine the walls and ignored the curious passers-by. Then he went to the nearby café, came back with a ladder and a man and voila – I was on the other side of the gate. I thanked him, he wished me a good day and off we went in different directions.

I love the Dutch police! And my iPhone.

Don’t forget to vote!

500,000

2011-09-01T22:39:00.000+02:00

I share the city I live in with half-a-million other people. This morning The Hague welcomed its 500,000th resident. The city went crazy for a couple of hours: the bells of the Grote Kerk tolled, cannon shots were fired on the Plein and Dutch rusks with green and yellow aniseed comfits (beschuit met groen-gele muisjes) were doled. I was at work and missed that all.

Until I was fifteen, I haven’t seen a city smaller than one million inhabitants. The one million one was Saratov (even though because of the heavy military production it never officially reached one million, attributing people to surrounding villages) and I used to think of it as a small town. Which in a way it was back then. When I started travelling, I’d discovered that the world is much smaller than I thought. Amsterdam is smaller than Saratov!

The Hague is smaller than Saratov, but somehow it’s not. There’s much more life here on this tiny piece of land – our government, The Queen, international organisations, theatres, cinemas, museums, concerts, festivals, art galleries, shops, parks...

Still of all the cities I’ve lived in and visited so far The Hague is the one that resembles Saratov the most. It’s not the look of it. It’s the way sun lights the buildings on a March afternoon when the tram number eleven strolls along. It’s the way the air smells on a chilly morning in February. It’s the way the August voices sound when I hear them through the open door of my kitchen.

I think I´ll stick for a while.

Mélissa Laveaux - Needle in the Hay

Irony

2011-08-30T22:05:00.000+02:00

Last year around this time I’d discovered my Dutch nationality was about to turn five years old. There was a party with a cake. This year I am reflecting on my being Dutch again.

Obviously, by acquiring Dutch nationality I didn’t lose all the other national and ethnic characteristics I’d had before. I am never only Dutch or only Russian or only anything else. I am everything I am. All at once. And I cherish this diversity. But becoming Dutch is something I did very consciously. It was something I’d had invested time and efforts in. And unfortunately my being Dutch is the least recognised by the outside world.

Ironically, the more compliments people give me about my being well integrated into the Dutch society, the more they stress I actually do not belong there. Think about it: you never compliment a Dutch person for speaking Dutch very well, do you?

A couple of months ago I have explained a friend of mine what I do as a social media consultant. He was very enthusiastic and sent me a couple of links to social media articles and TV reports he’d come across. My friend is German and the articles were in German. “Thank you for your trust in my ability to understand German” – I told him. “Of course! You are Dutch. All Dutch understand German” – he replied.

Needless to say – I loved the remark! At first it seemed a great compliment to my language skills. Later I realised this was much more than that. This was the first time I felt my Dutch side being truly accepted. Somehow this felt very liberating. Even though this acceptance came from a German. Now isn’t THAT ironic?

Remember this one? Alanis Morissette - Ironic

Magritte

2011-08-28T23:59:00.000+02:00

“I despise my own past and that of others. I despise resignation, patience, professional heroism and all the obligatory sentiments. I also despise the decorative arts, folklore, advertising, the voice of the radio presenters, aerodynamics, scouting, the smell of gasoline, the actuality and drunken people. I like subversive humour, freckles, knees, long female hair, dreams of young children who are still free, and a young girl that runs over the street. I long for real love, for the impossible and the utopian. I am afraid to discover where exactly my limits are."

The Magritte Museum was on my Brussels programme today. I bought this postcard for my ‘kisses collection’.

René Magritte – The Lovers

Reverse engineering

2011-08-24T22:56:00.000+02:00

The last couple of days I’ve spent a lot of time thinking of my ideal man. I can’t name the immediate cause for these thoughts. I’d just stumbled upon them, probably not by pure chance, but still quite unexpected.

I thought of putting all the characteristics of my ideal man on paper to get a portrait of that wonderful creature. I could frame it, put it on my wall and admire him.

But instead of writing down all the positive things I’d love to see in my man, I kept on thinking of everything I don’t want. My head was overflowing with negative features of all my ex partners, male friends and family members, acquaintances and men I’d heard or read about.

Maybe I should write down all the negative stuff and then try to (re)construct my ideal man by applying the opposite? Would ‘reverse engineering’ be a correct term for this?

De-Phazz - Heartfixer

Spotify Premium anyone?

2011-08-21T22:15:00.001+02:00

It dawned on me at a restaurant in Vaduz. Later I realised that the thought that came to me at that moment didn’t reveal anything new. It rather showed something that was already there. Like a rare word the meaning of which you all of sudden appear to know without being able remember how you got that knowledge. Like a dream you didn’t dare to admit you had, because you’d always thought it was silly. Like a desire you didn’t dare to think of because everyone around considers it inappropriate. It sits there until something happens and you are confronted with it with no escape possibilities.

How long did I know this without knowing? Must be quite some time now. The restaurant was just a last drop, the final link in a chain of events. The idea itself felt very natural and logical. I was rather surprised by the fact that it didn’t occur to me before.

It was a relief. I felt light, happy and ready for action. I will do it!!!

I promised to tell you about the revelation I’d had in Liechtenstein and I certainly will keep my promise. But first let’s get you that Spotify Premium subscription!

There’s a poll on the right. Vote in the poll and send me a message (e-mail, FB message, Twitter DM or through my About.me. Comments on FB and this blog will not count!) with the option that you’ve chosen in the poll. Please do it at the same time, so I can track you. Out of people who made the right choice I will randomly choose the winner.

The winner will get one month of Spotify Premium from me! If Spotify isn’t active in your country I can send you a CD of your choice provided it has the equivalent price.

Mind the deadline – September 4, 2011, 23:59 CET.

Good luck! (I’m thrilled!)

If On a Winter’s Night a Traveller or one more victory

2011-08-19T23:01:00.001+02:00

“Reading is a discontinuous and fragmentary operation. Or, rather, the object of reading is a punctiform and pulviscular material. In the spreading expanse of the writing, the reader’s attention isolates some minimal segments, juxtapositions of words, metaphors, syntactic nexuses, logical passages, lexical peculiarities that prove to possess an extremely concentrated density of meaning.”

I am not easily scared of heavy reading. I’ve read The Foundation Pit, The Tin Drum and The Elementary Particles with great pleasure. But even I do have my limits.

I was struggling with Italo Calvino’s If On a Winter’s Night a Traveller for two months! First I was hoping the book would get going and carry me away. Then I kept on reading because I promised the friend who recommended it to give it a chance. When that point passed I was persisting in the hope all the unfinished stories would miraculously come together at some point. At two thirds of the book it was clear that was not going to happen. I then started looking for a hidden meaning. At three quarters I understood that whatever meaning there is I will not be able to see or understand it. But then I was so far advanced I decided to finish and add the book to my list. Besides, I was on vacation and didn’t have any other book with me.

Even though I understand Calvino stands for high quality literature, I wouldn’t be able to recommend this book to anybody. And even though I’ve won the fight a couple of days ago, I still feel devastated and do not dare to start reading the next book. I am too afraid to feel simple and illiterate again.

I’m sure I’ll recover eventually. And if you decide to read If On a Winter’s Night a traveller – it’s at your own risk. I warned you!

Ontdekking van de Lidl

2011-08-16T21:26:00.000+02:00

“Mam, mogen we dit? Dit is hetzelfde als bij Albert Heijn, maar dan twee keer goedkoper en in een plastic flesje.” Het meisje van een jaar of zestien laat het flesje vruchtensap aan haar moeder zien. Ze is simpel, maar stijlvol gekleed. Ze straalt zakelijkheid uit. De moeder niet.

De moeder is niet zakelijk. Ze is onopvallend, heeft een bezorgde blik en is vooral ergens mee bezig in haar hoofd. Misschien met rekenen of misschien met iets anders. Ze kijkt lang naar het flesje. Langer dan normaal gesproken nodig zou zijn om ‘ja’ of ‘nee’ te besluiten. Ze is niet gewend om haar kinderen een flesje vruchtensap te ontzeggen. “Hoeft niet per se, hoor.” – zegt het meisje bemoedigend, maar nog steeds heel zakelijk.

Haar een paar jaar jongere broertje staat verderop voor een schap met kant-en-klare salades. Hij was met zijn mobieltje iets aan het uitrekenen. Nu haast hij zich naar zijn zus en moeder. Hij is nog een paar meters van hen verwijderd, maar kan uit verbazing en enthousiasme zijn ontdekking niet meer voor zich houden. “Je betaalt hier voor…” – er volgt een uitgebreide prijzenanalyse, uitgerekend per gram. Hij heeft een houding van iemand die op vakantie is in een vreemd land. Je kan dan over de hele winkel heen schreeuwen, toch niemand die je verstaat.

Dat laatste is in deze Lidl naast de Haagse Markt deels ook wel waar. De helft van de bezoekers is de Nederlandse taal niet voldoende machtig om deze mensen te kunnen verstaan. Dus blijft hun niet al te verborgen familiedrama onopgemerkt. Wat doen ze hier? Waarom is de moeder zo bezorgd? Waarom zijn de kinderen zo goed op de hoogte van wat hoeveel in verschillende supermarkten kost? Ik hoop dat het goed komt met ze…

Zo, mijn koelkast is weer gevuld.

Maps

2011-08-15T02:02:00.001+02:00

Last months have been full of travelling, packing and unpacking. I take care of clothes almost immediately once I’m home, but bags, travel guides and bills from vacations have been laying around unattended up till now. Bit by bit I am trying to clear the space.

Today I came across maps - Cyprus, France, Liechtenstein. I love city maps as much as I love cities. It’s a kind of ritual to ask for a map upon arrival to a new city, to determine the historical sites area, the shopping area, the restaurants area. Then find yourself within.

I unfold one of the maps and look at the web of streets. In my head lines on the map transform in buildings, shop windows and street signs. I even remember where and how I got that map. I remember walking into the tourist office in Victoria on Gozo asking for a city map. I couldn’t hide a smile when I heard the answer: “We do not have city maps. We only have maps of the whole island.” My vacation maps are heavily used, worn out in a couple of days or even hours. This time all of them are free maps that I picked up at hotels, airports or tourist offices. In my opinion, cities that do not have free maps are not civilised enough.

I should throw these maps away. Keeping them is no use. But I can’t let them go. Not yet. They remind me of travelling, of the places I’ve seen, of the times with no worries. I try to think of some creative possibilities to recycle them, to let them stick around for a little longer. Internet suggestions are no use and nothing original comes to mind.

I take the map of Calais and cut it into a large snowflake. Then throw it to the bin together with all the other maps. That was easier than I’d anticipated.

Victories

2011-08-11T00:43:00.001+02:00

At some point in my life I’ve started celebrating victories. Every once in a while I take a moment to reflect on things I’ve achieved so far be it my biking skills, my fairly large wardrobe or the amount of different places I visited. It probably has something to do with growing older and learning not to take things for granted be it speaking foreign languages, male attention or living in the Netherlands. You may find it silly, but this reflecting on my achievements works very well for me. It helps me to enjoy my life. To enjoy it more.

Of course not every achievement is a victory. Not every achievement however great feels like a victory. But some do. Like my first enjoyable ride in a rollercoaster or my first flight without an air sickness pill.

This year I’ve achieved one more victory on my birthday. A victory over my acrophobia! I know I’m not there yet and there’s a lot of work to be done. But last Saturday I went to the mountains and walked through the paths as wide as the width of my single foot risking falling off a steep slope. In some places the path consisted of little loose stones moving in every direction as soon as you set your foot on them. There was nothing to cling on to. My heart was beating like crazy and at some points cold sweat covered my whole body.

But I did it! I walked the whole way up and down. And I won!

I was even taking photos! -->

<-- On a not most challenging part of the path.

Things I don’t understand

2011-08-09T22:19:00.000+02:00

I don’t understand how people can live in very small countries. The ones you can walk in three days. Or more days, but still. The ones you can walk in a single vacation. How can people live in the countries isolated from the rest of the world by sea or mountains? Physical borders make me nervous. Any border makes me nervous, but physical are the worst.

I don’t understand skiing. Why would you spend loads of money for a flight (or bus), hotel, equipment, ski lift, and whatnot to stay for a week in the middle of nowhere and roll down a steep slope with a danger for your health? Most people I know have broken a bone at least once during skiing, but they still like it. I don’t get it.

I don’t understand how people can do the same job for their entire life. People like farmers. Or owners of those hotels in the mountains. Waking up in the morning and knowing what you are going to do today, every day for the next week, month, year. It’s like being able to see your future which is not different from your present or past. Not for me.

I don’t understand people deliberately isolating themselves somewhere without telephone or internet. It’s not like I am addicted to information, but the thought of not being able to have free access to loads of information makes me nauseous.

I don’t understand people who are afraid to fly or people who do not travel abroad. I cannot comprehend how people can survive with less than three hours of music a day. Or not like peaches. Or dream of a Rolex watch. Or buy one!

I don’t understand so many things! I think I leave it that way.

Cayetano - The secret

Liechtenstein

2011-08-08T22:23:00.000+02:00

Liechtenstein is a little exotic country occupying 160.475 km2 between Switzerland and Austria. Exotic because it’s so tiny. And because it’s an absolute monarchy. That’s basically it.

An average traveller won’t see much difference between Switzerland and Liechtenstein. If you xdoze away for a couple of minutes while on the bus from Sargans to Vaduz, you might miss the sign on the Gadoz bridge. No border controls. Same currency. Same sky rocketing prices. Same language, dialect even. Same mountains. Oh wait! The overwhelmingly ugly modern architecture isn’t quite Swiss.

This country is so tiny and so attached to Switzerland – it’s almost ephemeral. Iwent to the tourist office in Vaduz (the capital village), paid two euro and let them put a stamp in my passport. Now the country is real. And I’ve been there. I celebrated my birthday there. And on my birthday I achieved a new victory (will blog about it later). I also had a revelation (will write about that too in due time). At the same time in the same country I’ve completed one of my goals for this year (visit two new countries, after Cyprus Liechtenstein brought me there).

So for me this country is special. Is it worth visiting? Don’t ask me. Decide for yourself.

I loved this sound!

Conclusions

2011-08-02T01:50:00.000+02:00

Today my mother and I indulged in buying jewellery. I now have five new necklaces in addition to another three or four I bought in July. Because not buying and not wearing jewellery is not an option I have made the following conclusions:

I need a special closet for my jewellery.
I need more occasions to wear the most funky and fancy jewellery I have.
I need more money to buy more jewellery.
I have to admit to collecting jewellery and treat the most exclusive pieces as art rather than objects of daily use.

To implement the number four on the list I am going to frame some of the necklaces and hang them on my walls. The rest will take more time. Suggestions for the fancy jewellery occasions are highly appreciated!

To give you an idea - I bought this in green(ish) today -->

Condom moment

2011-07-31T02:56:00.003+02:00

Exactly my kind of shop: clothes are weird, jewellery is complicated, objects are vintage, the sellers are actually artists. The fitting room is a miniature living room. “Go ahead, the room will easily fit the two of you” – the male artist said. Two vintage chairs, an antique TV set, an old rack and two console mirror tables. Indeed. The room is large enough for two. Loads of condoms from Sensemoments.nl everywhere.

For a couple of minutes I forgot about the clothes I wanted to try on. My mind followed the words on the package in my hands:

To never forget (some), as the first time (more than once, surprisingly enough), that wasn’t quite as nice (more than enough), that was good (most of the time), with your big love (yes), with a colleague (yep...), with a friend (still not sure whether to regret it or not), with a stranger (never!), with foreplay (dûh!), exciting (isn’t excitement the very essence of sex?), naughty (depends on the definition, but most probably yes), experimental (sure), sweet (mmmm), planned (love gantt charts, but sex is usually spontaneous), on impulse (yes, please), cosy (not sure), romantic (oh yes!), pure (what is pure?), lust (check), drunken action (no), divine orgasm (too few), not satisfactory (a bit too many of those), nice (of course), intimate (what else?), impersonal (is that what you get with a stranger?), outside (ha!), inside (most of the time), in the car (check), in bed (what else is new?), in the toilet (twice of which once in a public toilet), on the couch (obviously), on the floor (not very comfy), in the garden (too bad my garden is totally not suitable). The package ran out of words and I thought of moments in different countries, with great age differences, with lights on and off, with and without music, when it was too hot or too cold, when he was ‘failing’, when I was so ticklish he could hardly touch me, too fast or too long...

Then I realised someone was waiting for me outside and I had clothes to fit. And also that I’ve moved to the new level of appreciation of sex. Getting older has its advantages.

Sweet memories: Dire Straits – Romeo and Juliet

Humanity vs Facebook

2011-07-17T20:38:00.001+02:00

A friend forwarded a link to a review of the book ‘Alone Together’ by Sherry Turkle. ‘Facebook makes us less human’ read the title of the article. Inside - some examples of people’s behaviour that is ‘less human’. I haven’t read the book and I hope the authors of the abovementioned article got it wrong. But I’d like to respond to some arguments anyway.

Simone Back has announced suicide on Facebook and none of her 1082 helped. This is a very sad story. It is and it will be. But is it Facebook that made people less human? How about that tax office official in Finland who died at his desk and was not found by his colleagues for two days? This was not on Facebook, but in the office, amongst people who were alive. And what about the man who was dead for four years in a house with his brothers and sisters? I don’t even think they’ve heard of Facebook, let alone used any of the modern technologies Sherry Turkle is talking about.

Somebody was checking messages on his iPhone during a funeral service. Obviously, the guy doesn’t have manners. But it would be more appropriate to blame his parents and school for this rather than Apple. People always get bored at funerals. If they have no iPhone at their disposal, they will study other ‘guests’, solve puzzles in their head or doodle in the Gospel books.

My heart leaps in joy when I see the name of my love in my newsfeed on Facebook because he updated his status, posted a picture, liked a page or became friends with someone. Does this make me less human?

I don’t think modern technologies and social media make us less human. On the contrary, I think they powerfully and painfully reveal just how human we are!

Electricity kills if you don’t mind the safety. Car accidents take lives. Do we think of abolishing them? No. We just learn how to use them safely and teach that to our children. That’s exactly the way to deal with social media. What about our humanity? We just need to be more human. Everywhere.

Love Macy's last album The Sellout! Macy Gray - Beauty in the World

My true nature

2011-07-15T20:52:00.000+02:00

My parents are in town. Besides sightseeing and shopping with my mother it also means a project with my father. The latter usually involves building something – shelves, the fence in my front yard. This year we are going to pave a path to the shed in my garden. DIY store visit. Yay!!!

I like DIY stores. The shelves with tools and materials stimulate my creativity. My hands get itchy. I can easily find my way between tubes of putty, buckets of varnish and paint, garden tools and bags of cement and sand. I know names of all this stuff in Dutch and never feel intimidated if I have to ask shop personnel for advice or extra information. I feel comfortable in a DIY store. At least I always did.

At the second DIY store today my excitement suddenly turned into oppressive panic. Why do I feel so comfortable here? Did my parents and I made some wrong decisions along the way? Wrong profession? Should I be a carpenter? Should I plaster and construct rather than analyse processes, give business advice and write articles? Was I moving in the totally wrong direction for thirty six years? The thought made me nauseous. And cranky. I think I took some of that out on my mother. Sorry, Mom!

I was feeling down for a couple of hours. Then I realised that if I were an unconscious handyman, my house would be in perfect state. I looked around. Cracked paint around the windows outside, laminate flooring uneven and with gaps, missing door handles, a couple of walls needing a total makeover and the list goes on. The wave of joy covered me swiping the annoying cranky feeling and ruining it completely in one swift movement. Thank God! I’m probably better off working with my head. Never thought household problems could make me happy.

Change

2011-07-14T02:00:00.000+02:00

I have this urge again. I need to move, be active, change my life drastically. Ten years ago I’d move to another house, change my occupation by 180 degrees, cut my hair short or dye it blond and subscribe for a carpenter’s course or take some other obscure education. But now I´ve grown old and wise enough to keep drastic changes at bay.

Instead I am throwing away stuff. Two days ago I got rid of numerous bottles with hair masks, body lotions, small cosmetics samples and perfumes I never use. My bathroom cabinet is half empty now. Today my mother and I did a major cleansing of the two kitchen cabinets containing spices and tea. I now know I have enough tea for the coming three years. The cabinets are half empty too.

I have to tell you that my mother likes throwing stuff away too. So now both of us are very excited to do the next project: my closet! I will be mercilessly getting rid of clothes. They’ll go to the garbage bin, the clothes collector container at the local supermarket or to Kiev where my mother will give them away to neighbours.

The last stop will be my desk. After that I’ll have a brand new life. Or so I hope...

And this is my mood: Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - Home

Smokers’ lounge

2011-07-07T23:54:00.001+02:00

One could guess they were a family from the composition of the group, and their common features. Father, mother and their two grown-up obese children, brother and sister. In fact they were four separate individuals acting each for themselves. Everyone carried their own luggage, everyone ordered and paid their own drink. They didn’t emit any joy or excitement from going on vacation together. Maybe it was too early in the morning. They didn’t seem to know how to be a family. Or maybe they forgot...

The cafe in the duty free zone of the Düsseldorf Weeze Airport has a smokers’ lounge. It’s a room for smokers separated from the main area by the wall and two glass doors. While the other members of the family were ordering their drinks and sandwiches, the father seemed very interested in the smokers’ room. He was peeking inside through a glass door. He desperately needed a smoke or just wanted to belong to the group on the other side. Anyhow, he couldn’t help staring through the glass.

“Look, there’s a smokers’ lounge!” – he proclaimed rather excited when his daughter came in his direction. As if she hadn’t heard him she said something about a free table in the middle of the room and went past to take her place. The man looked around searching for his son, but didn’t find any support there. His son joined his sister at the table. The man remained at the door of the smokers’ lounge waiting for his last hope – his wife. He was shifting nervously from foot to foot, watching his wife order her sandwich and looking at the smokers behind the glass.

Finally she approached with a plate in her hands. “There’s a smokers’ lounge!” – he said excited, his eyes full of hope. She didn’t look at him. She dismissed the idea with a barely visible shrug and went past him to join her children at the table. Disappointed her husband followed her throwing one last sad glance through the glass door.

My heart sank. “How can you not love him so much?! How can you not see that what he wants?! How can you refuse him this little joy!? Why don’t you just let him enter that door? Or go with him just once, just this time. Just because this vacation together is so special.” I wanted to shout this, but I didn’t. Caught in their inability to show and cherish their emotions they might not appreciate my interference.

Instead I thought that we all should watch each other closer so we don’t dismiss a desire of someone we love with a barely visible shrug...

Hauschka - Subconscious

Cyprus

2011-07-05T00:55:00.000+02:00

I wasn’t here because I was there. I also wasn’t here because I’m still recovering from a flu that started three weeks ago. But mainly because I was there. On Cyprus. Cyprus is special. Because:

It’s an island. All islands are special. How did they manage to keep pace with mainland when the boats were not so fast and airplanes didn’t exist? And why do people stay on islands nowadays? I wouldn’t be able to stay on an island smaller than Australia and less densely populated than Europe.
It’s divided into two parts of which one isn’t recognised by any other country, but Turkey. That’s weird. People live there. There’s land, cities, roads and yet the world denies the existence of it all. North Cyprus authorities do not put stamps in your passport. Other countries might not recognise its validity of the passport with stamp of a ‘non-existent’ country in it. Weird.
There are Byzantine churches all over. Ok, they are also in Greece, but I’ve never been to Greece, so I think Byzantine churches make Cyprus special.
South Cyprus is non-officially divided in two parts. One is occupied by the British, the other one – by the Russians. In Pafos everything’s in English, in Lemesos everything is in Russian. It’s a pity there’s no formal border to get a stamp in your passport.

I loved the sun and the sea. Too bad vacation is over.

10 things M. should do to feel alive again

2011-06-23T23:19:00.001+02:00

A good friend of mine confessed a couple of weeks ago that he’s having a not so good time at work and it saps much of his energy. It’s difficult to dissociate work from the more important parts of life. He asked me to suggest 10 things that could make him feel alive once he’d done them. Here we go:

Remember that delicious dish you had at a restaurant in some big city last year? Learn how to cook it. Research and practice until it looks and tastes perfect.
What are the skills you poses? Are you good at what you do? Look around and pick an absolutely (or almost) new skill for you. Knit. Solder. Plaster. Master it.
How does your home reflect your personality? Did you put a lot of thought in furnishing and decorating or did you rent your apartment fully furnished? Craft something for your home. A lamp, candlesticks, ingenious bookshelves – anything goes!
Read that book!
At your age with your life and professional experience you carry a load of priceless information that others need. And the gross of that information is just sitting there at the back of your head, doing nothing all day. Put it to use. Write an article on any topic. Then publish it.
Help someone. For real. Don’t just give them a good advice (however useful). Go into trouble of actually doing things for them. Provided they’ll be really better off if you do it for them - solve as much of their problem as you can by yourself.
Have you lost contact with somebody? Somebody who you’d rather not lose? Invite them to come and visit you. Make sure you have enough spare time to show them as much of the country as you can. If they cannot come, go visit them.
Art gives you energy, you knew that, right? Look up an art exhibition or a theatre play you’d like to see. Think of the art first. The place doesn’t matter. It could be anywhere in the world. Book a flight, arrange a hotel and go.
Carnivals make you feel alive! Choose one (Italy, Brazil, wherever), arrange the trip AND a costume! Go!
Fall in love.

Dear M.,

I hope you feel inspired by this list and even if you choose to do just one thing, please do it with dedication. Put your hart to it. And I hope you’ll feel refuelled and happy just like your old self.

Hugs,

Sasha

The Shins - New Slang

Women2drive

2011-06-17T14:13:00.000+02:00

Today women in Saudi Arabia protest against the (not-written) rule that forbids them to drive cars. Ok, just hold that ‘women are dangerous drivers’ argument to yourself. If we take all the testosterone driven vehicles off the road, we will forever solve not only the safety issue, but also traffic jams, shortage of parking space, environmental problems and oil prices terror.

I find it remarkable that Saudi women protest against the female drivers ban, but not against the dress regulations. The rules that are called to life because men cannot control their you know what. That lack of self-control is not limited to Saudi or Muslim men. But why should women be responsible for maintaining the order?

You know what? That’s right. Women should be responsible for maintaining peace and order. Because they are capable of it. So maybe they should take that responsibility. I suggest we lock up all the men and use them for heavy physical labour and reproduction. The ones who can prove they are capable of adequate functioning in a civilised society may appear in public unaccompanied and maybe pursue a career.

In the meanwhile women will conduct sustainable business, govern free, peaceful and safe societies and drive around in cars. Naked.

Ambitious? One step at a time: first let women drive cars in Saudi Arabia – support Manal al-Sharif.

Rebellion

2011-06-16T01:43:00.000+02:00

Call me arrogant and presumptuous. Call me too self-assured and overweening. Call me names. I don’t care.

I am done with hypocrisy and fake modesty. I demand we say things as they are without being judged or punished.

I insist on complete trust when it comes to statements. I rebel against mediocrity. I’m not hiding anymore.

OK. Here we go:

I AM THE MASTER OF THE THROAT PAIN AND THE WIZARD OF THE COUGH!

Here, I said it. Deal with it.

Come le onde del mare - Gianmaria Testa

James Ensor

2011-06-13T23:52:00.000+02:00

James Ensor was magnificent. And I didn't even have to go to Paris to see him! We’ve spent nearly two hours at the museum without even realising that! The somewhat absurd paintings made me think of Daniil Kharms:

The Red-Haired Man
There was a red-haired man who had no eyes or ears.
Neither did he have any hair, so he was called red-haired theoretically.

He couldn't speak, since he didn't have a mouth. Neither did he have a nose.
He didn't even have any arms or legs. He had no stomach and he had no back and he had no spine and he had no innards whatsoever. He had nothing at all!

Therefore there's no knowing whom we are even talking about.
In fact it's better that we don't say any more about him.

James Ensor - The Sad Pierrot

5 steps to a rocketing high Klout Score

2011-06-11T20:10:00.002+02:00

I’ve read ‘the rules’, played around for a while and now I get it. So I thought I’d share this piece of use(ful/less – please delete as applicable) knowledge with you.

The Klout Score is a number indicating your online influence based on your Twitter and Facebook activities. Why would you want a high Klout score? For many reasons: you want to show off in front of your peers, you want to impress your clients, you like the Klout widget and want to place it on your blog, you’ve always liked to get high grades or you have nothing better to do. Even if you have no reason you still might profit by following the steps described below.

You will need: 1 Twitter account, 1 Facebook account, 15 to 60 minutes a day, 15 to 60 days depending on your ambition.

1. Set up Klout
Connect your Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn accounts to your Klout account.

2. Build your community
Get friends and followers.

Connect with everyone you know on Facebook. (Use elaborated privacy setting s.)
Make sure you have more followers than people you follow on Twitter. Follow the ones that are likely to follow back, and only follow back people whom you know or in whom you are interested. The higher your followers/following ratio, the better your Klout Score!

Easy ways to find friends and people to follow: browse through friends of your friends to find more people you know; have a look at whom your favourite tweeters follow. When meeting people in person, ask them to connect on Twitter.

3. Spread the word
Tweet and post.

For Facebook you’ll need some funny status updates, updates reflecting on the ‘hot’ news topics or updates in the form of a question to trigger likes and comments. Post useful links if you know majority of your friends would be interested. Your aim is to get as many reactions as possible. Klout will calculate an average amount of likes and comments per post, so be strategic.
On Twitter you have to tweet regularly and try to share content that is likely to get retweeted.

An easy way to get a retweet is to complement a brand that is active on Twitter. For example @easyJet is likely to retweet you if you thank them for bringing you from one place to another. A reasonable amount of good self made photos tend to get a good response on Facebook. Checking in with FourSquare at a bizarre location usually triggers responses too.

4. Interact
Engage in conversations.

On Facebook you have to comment and like posts of others to encourage them to act the same way towards you.
Make sure you get as many mentions from as many people on Twitter as possible. Number of mentions matters and so does the number of unique mentioners. Also try to get a mention from a “celebrity” – a tweeter with a very large number of followers. That will increase your Klout Score tremendously.

Easy ways to get new mentioners: answer questions from random strangers, ask questions and if you happen to be up late react to people complaining their timeline is empty. Watch ‘celebrities’ for a while until you know what kind of comment would most likely to trigger an answer. Then strike.

5. Keep up
Even if you don´t need your Klout Score to grow anymore you´ll still have to keep up to prevent it from dropping. You may stop hunting for new mentions and followers, but keep the conversation with your current friends and followers going.

Voila! Here´s your new Klout Score. Nice isn’t it? And as a bonus you now also have a tight, active, highly engaged community of friends and followers that can help you cook a new dish or get new clients, that will support you in your new undertakings and share fun with you. Use it! And if you’re doing that right... your Klout Score will keep on growing. :)

Disagree or need to know more? Leave a comment!

Voetbalspelers vs stompneusaap

2011-06-11T04:08:00.001+02:00

Ik heb een paar dagen geleden per ongeluk iets meer dan tien euro uitgegeven bij de AH en kreeg een geel zakje met kaartjes in handen gedrukt. Bij de uitgang werd ik tot mijn verbazing niet aangevallen door militante jongetjes die het zakje uit mijn handen wilden rukken. ‘Het zullen dan geen voetbalplaatjes zijn’ - dacht ik.

Thuis ontdekte ik dat het om superdieren gaat. Ontzettend leuk! Veel leuker dan voetbalspelers. Waarom willen kinderen dit niet? Zo heeft een zeeanemoon veel meer tentakels dan Kurt Elshot, dat weet ik zeker. Ola Tolvonen mag dan uit Finland komen, maar een vacht van 18cm dik (van stompneusaap) heeft hij echt niet. En Luis Suárez kan echt geen 10 minuten lang op de bodem van een meer wandelen. Nee, doe mij maar een nijlpaard.

Een grizzlybeer kan een hert doden met een omhelzing. Zou Evgeniy Levchenko het ook kunnen? Nah. Wat grizzly beer niet heeft is zo’n lekkere lijf als Levchenko. Maar daar kicken die jongetjes toch niet op? En ik ben door geen enkele vrouw aangevallen om de voetbalplaatjes.

Ik snap er helemaal niks van.

Life cycle

2011-06-07T22:33:00.002+02:00

SGN-35 successfully fight certain types of cancer my newspaper said yesterday. “Yay!” – I thought. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if cancer no longer would mean a death sentence? Science, progress and new technologies rule! Or?..

Isn’t cancer more or less the result of elaborate technological progress and high level of welfare? We thrive, make progress, fight diseases, live longer, consume more, provoke new illnesses, make progress, fight diseases, live longer, consume more, etc. – interesting life cycle...

Timeshare

2011-06-05T23:33:00.000+02:00

Even though my house has no secrets for her anymore, she keeps distance. All I get from her is a quick look when she passes me to enter the house. Her business is her business and I have no place in it. She carries herself with a confidence I do not dare to retort.

She took her time for a thorough inspection. Nothing was left unattended. She checked windowsills behind the curtains, paid a visit to my study to discover a messy desk, looked under the couch. She’s studied every bit of the garden and every corner of the garden shed.

Her visits started some weeks ago and became more and more frequent. Until last night when she simply refused to leave. This morning I found her curled on the couch. She looked well rested and satisfied, but didn’t want to stay for breakfast.

If she carries on this way I might need to buy cat food. I just wonder: do I timeshare a house with the neighbours’ cat or a cat with the neighbours?

Hindi Zahra - Set me free

I Can't Get Behind That

2011-06-03T01:04:00.000+02:00

I wish I could make my point so clearly!

Morality police

2011-05-31T23:55:00.000+02:00

A minute away from home I felt a touch of cold wind on my back. The combination of low waist jeans and waist jacket might help to show off my slim structure, but it has its shortcomings. I pulled the hem of my top down to cover my bare back just to feel the cold wind half-a-minute later. I repeated this another couple of times until I finally gave up. Once I get off the bike the problem will vanish, why bother for the ten minutes through the half empty streets?

I’ve almost reached the station when I heard someone talking behind me. A woman caught up with me. It appears she was talking to me. “Ma-am, your underwear” - she said with a stern look. “Ah, thank you!”- I replied pretending I didn’t know my knickers (the same colour as my shoes, mind you!) were showing. I pulled down the top once again while she’d overtaken me and disappeared around the corner.

Was she from the some kind of morality police? My, how much a country can change in two weeks!

Survival skills

2011-05-29T22:57:00.000+02:00

The queue at the registration desks for the flight to Amsterdam this morning looks like it’ll never end. I walk past it to the ‘Baggage drop’ desk. No queue whatsoever. I was ready within two minutes as opposed to at least 30 minutes all the other passengers seemed to be willing to spend.

Next stop: security and customs. People clutter before the entrance doubting whether they are allowed to take the line with no queue. Some decide to avoid it and opt for the lines with a queue. I walk right past them. Another two minutes. Of course knowing what NOT to put in my hand luggage and what shoes NOT to wear helps as well.

Last obstacle – passport control. Several long queues for Ukrainian citizens. Two shorter for the foreigners. One window for foreigners is open, but nobody is lining up. Ukrainians avoid it because they are not foreigners; foreigners don’t realise it’s open because there’s no queue. I walk through saving another ten minutes.

I just saved about forty five minutes that I can spend to have a breakfast and buy a women’s magazine. As I chew on my way too expensive croissant with cheese I wonder why people tend to follow the crowd even though it rarely contributes to their advantage.

MOVITS! - Swing För Hyresgästföreningen

Abundance

2011-05-24T23:03:00.001+02:00

Saturday I was at a restaurant with my classmates to mark twenty years since we left school. A curious thing happened there when we ordered coffee. I asked for a cappuccino, but the waitress said they couldn't make it. She suggested a coffee with cream. I agreed. She brought espresso with a little cup of cream. One of my friends asked for the cream too. "We are out of cream" – the waitress said. This never happened to me before!

Last night I went out for a dinner with a Dutch group (ten people) visiting Kiev on a fun trip. They ordered wine. After two bottles the waitress said: "We don't have this wine anymore. Would you please choose another one?" After three bottles that other wine was gone too. We found that quite entertaining.

We are so used to live in the state of total abundance of everything that even the idea of a deficit makes us laugh. Isn't this actually sick?

The answer

2011-05-19T23:48:00.001+02:00

Russian TV has brought the news the other day: scientists in Japan have successfully teleported a 'piece' of light. A brief online research has revealed this news is not very fresh, but that's not the point.

What's important is that this success brings quantum computing closer. And a quantum computer is able to perform any operation much faster than a contemporary computer. Very much faster. Different sources say a quantum computer is thousands or even a million times faster.

That is very good news! Let's assume that a quantum computer will be 500,500 (average between 1,000 and 1,000,000) times faster than a computer as we know it now. This means that we can get Ultimate Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything just in some fifteen years!

I can't wait!

Almost ready

2011-05-18T01:54:00.001+02:00

Yesterday I came in the part of the city, where the Olympic stadium is being rebuilt up to UEFA standards for the EURO 2012. Great construction sites are great photo venues. I wouldn't have been me if I didn't climb the hill to get a better view.

I found a good spot, shot a few pictures and was ready to explore more of the city. The only problem was – I couldn't find the way out.

"How do I get out of here?" – I asked a construction worker who was passing by. He was not at all surprised to see me there. Some minutes later I understood why.
"Oh just go down these stairs and that way to the metro" – he waved his hand in the direction of the metro station.
I took some steps down the stairs to find myself right in the middle of the construction site with dozens of men laying stairs, digging holes or planting trees. The way ahead looked even more of a construction zone. In the Netherlands I wouldn't be allowed to enter.
"This is the right way" – I heard the voice of 'my' construction worker behind me. "Come, let me walk you to the exit."
"It will be very beautiful when you're finished" – I started a social talk.
"You bet!" – the man sounded very fond of his work. "The only question is: when will we finish?"
"It's all supposed to be done by 2012." – I said.
"They won't manage" – he answered.
"No?"
"No. Look now you go left and you'll see the exit."
That's when I saw some other people clearly using the construction site as a shortcut to somewhere else. That's why nobody tried to stop me – strangers passing through is perfectly normal here. I thanked the guy and headed for the exit.

Now I think I should go back and actually enter the stadium to make some photos from inside. Although, my mother is concerned about my safety.

Kiev observations

2011-05-15T23:46:00.002+02:00

On the way from the airport to my parents' place I saw many blank billboards - alcohol and cigarettes advertising is finally prohibited in Ukraine.

The price of electricity per kWh rises if you use more than 150kWh per month – electricity problems?

Many men walk around in training suite and dress shoes. Sometimes this outfit is finished off by a laptop bag.

Regularly one can see women drinking beer from bottles right on the street. It seems to be quite fashionable here, but I find it repulsive…

Depending on the weather I might go downtown tomorrow and make some photos.

Encounter

2011-05-12T01:04:00.000+02:00

He was the sort of person you don’t like to be confronted with. A kind of guy you understand has the right to exist, but still hope you’d not see many of them too often. You don’t dare to admit this, but actually your life would be lighter if these people were out of your sight: homeless, hopeless drug addicts, mentally disabled...

His worn out clothes used to have some sort of meaning to them, but that meaning is no longer visible under layers of dust and stains. A necklace was hanging around his neck as the last token of that lost meaning. You could see he either didn’t like or had no possibility to wash himself often. In his dirty hands he carried a pair of rosaries and his face was covered in green and brown paint – remains of the same lost meaning. He looked preoccupied with some thoughts, detached from here and now. I was sure he’d start talking in himself any moment. I also anticipated on holding my breath to avoid the smell.

We were heading towards each other on a relatively narrow pavement. Avoiding bumping into each other would need a slight effort. I was determined to make that effort because I figured he wouldn’t.

I took a step aside to let him pass. That’s when I discovered that he was perfectly aware of the world outside of him. He took a step aside too. He made a step in the same direction so we still ended up facing each other not able to pass. I couldn’t help smiling and at the very same time his face lit up in a open and warm smile.

Light-footed I headed on. Some minutes later I realised I forgot to hold my breath. :)

Modern life

2011-05-09T20:42:00.000+02:00

“What’s a quote?”
“It’s when you say or write something and other people like it, they start passing it on.”
“How’s that different from retweet?”

Carla Bruni - You Belong To Me

It’s complicated

2011-05-09T01:35:00.000+02:00

My friend was late for our lunch yesterday. While waiting at the terrace of a cafe I was listening to a woman at the next table explain a rather complicated structure of her family to her two companions. The story was so amazing – I took notes. If that were my family, I’d explain it like this:

Hope

2011-05-06T21:18:00.004+02:00

Nearly fourteen years ago I came to the Netherlands from Ukraine blissfully unaware of the feminism and gender issues. Women pursuing a career seemed quite natural, so did the kindergartens and equal pay. I hear things changed a lot in Ukraine since then, but I haven’t experienced those changes.

Now I know considerably more about emancipation, although I suspect the picture of emancipation gathered from the Dutch society is rather distorted.

You see, just several decades ago women in the Netherlands where considered rather secondary creatures. They were not to study and not to work, but to stay home, take care of their family and not complain. Even as recently as in the early seventies women would get fired at work right after they got married. It took me a while to get used to the fact that mothers of most of my Dutch friends all had the same profession: housewife.

But then something happened. A great change. I don’t quite understand what had caused such a drastic change. If somebody has a clear answer to that, please do let me know. In a very short time as far as public opinion is concerned, women in the Netherlands went from subordinate beings to super humans. The kind that pursues professional career, drives cars, buys houses, decorates them and makes sure they stay clean one way or another, gives birth to children, raises them up, manages the household, prepares outrageously sophisticated dinners for Easter and Christmas, uses make-up, wears high heels, works out, drinks beer and lifts heavy things. All at the same time. While on a diet.

How they do it, I don’t know. Almost fourteen years long and I’m still puzzled. Because even though I use make-up, wear heels, own a house and pay my bills, I wouldn’t know how drinking beer, working out and maintaining a diet and a family could fit in my schedule. And even though I have enough brains to do a job similar to that of other men it still hasn’t helped me to be able to lift an object as heavy as half of my body weight up above my head.

I never hear Dutch women complain which sometimes makes me feel inferior. An uncomfortable feeling I must admit. But yesterday I saw this sign in the bicycle parking -->

‘Gentlemen, please use the upper rack if possible. Thank you.’

A public appeal to men to be real men?!! Maybe there’s still hope for me.

More of my musings on:
Emancipation (men on the planes);
Emancipation (demasculisation);
and Emancipation (fathers in control).

Broodje-kaas-fobie

2011-05-05T00:59:00.001+02:00

Ik spreek regelmatig mensen die zich wat minder thuis voelen in de zee van sociale media en zich afvragen waarom ze Twitter zouden moeten gebruiken. Alle redenen die ze aangedragen krijgen,vegen ze met één zin van tafel: “Ja, maar ik heb geen zin om al die berichtjes gaan lezen van mensen die een broodje kaas zitten te eten!” Hoe vaker ik dit hoor (erg vaak!) hoe meer ik me daarover begin te verwonderen.

Wat is er toch mis met een broodje kaas? Iedereen eet wel eens een broodje kaas. Zelfs ik. Ik ken twee mensen die geen broodjes kaas eten, omdat ze geen kaas lusten. Die mensen kun je gerust gaan volgen dan. Oh, ze twitteren niet. Bummer.

Waarom is men zo bang om te lezen dat iemand een broodje kaas eet? Wordt je eigen broodje kaas minder lekker daardoor? Ben je bang dat men verkeerde kaas op verkeerd broodje eet? Of krijg je het gevoel dat ze te veel kaas eten en dat de kaas straks op is?

Ik heb even de tweets van mijn timeline teruggelezen om te kijken wat mensen die ik volg zoal eten. Gratis appeltaart, witbier met bitterballen, pannenkoeken met alles, thee met zelfgebakken muffins, borsch, kip Siam, dandelion pancakes, Indische rijst, gehaktbal van gerookt hertenvlees en gefrituurde minivisjes uit een vennetje in Lapland. Geen broodjes kaas afgelopen twee weken. Dus mensen wees niet bang en (tw)eet lekker mee!

@amirskikh

P.S. Ik eet zelden een broodje kaas. Zo zelden, dat iedere keer zeker een tweet waard!

Seat cover fuss

2011-05-03T00:11:00.001+02:00

You know bicycle is an important part of your life if:

you sometimes forget to lock your back door, your front door or a door of your car, but never ever forget to lock your bicycle;
finding a free, convenient and legitimate parking space at the station makes for a good start of the day;
seeing a bicycle with a tag ‘homeless’ does not surprise you;
coming back from work and finding your bicycle with a new seat cover makes for a good start of the evening;
you get upset if your seat cover is stolen;
you steal a seat cover to replace the stolen one;
the one you steal was placed on a ‘homeless’ bicycle by the police.

Also, if you recognise yourself in all or most of the above situations you most certainly live in the Netherlands.

Dutch Cowgirls found this seat cover at the station in Delft. Exactly the same cover was stolen off my bike at Den Haag Centraal station.

Balance

2011-04-28T23:54:00.000+02:00

Today I’ve discovered that there are about five million cows in the Netherlands. And a little more than seven million passenger cars. And the same amount of households. Which means there’s one car and a little less than one cow per household.

The cars are constant pain in the ass because of the pollution, traffic jams, parking problems and deadly accidents. And although in terms of pollution cows are said to be as bad as cars, I’ve never heard of cow traffic jams or cow parking problems. Deadly accidents are unlikely too. Maybe I should buy a cow instead of a car?

Saint Privat - Poisson Rouge (nothing with cows, I believe)

25 years

2011-04-26T22:14:00.000+02:00

It’s 25 years ago. Time flies when you’re having fun. April 26 in 1986 was nice in Kiev. It was sunny and warm and I was playing with some other girls outside. I was wearing a red and yellow chequered dress with short sleeves. We were eating (or drinking?) nectar of the cherry blossom. It’s funny a day can stay so crisp in my memory for 25 years.

The days after are shredded to pieces by time. Sudden smell of concern in the air after the 1st of May celebrations. Endless updates on security measures on TV, rolled up carpets and removed curtains, closed windows, collecting dust with a moist cloth three times a day, no school, rumours of panic on railway stations, radiological control of all flights coming from Ukraine at the Saratov airport.

I don’t know anyone who died because of the Chernobyl catastrophe. I’m not even sure I know anyone who got seriously ill after ‘consuming’ too much radiation. It’s not the physical threat that left a bleeding scar in my heart. Rather, Chernobyl catastrophe was a betrayal of such a great scale my mind has difficulty to conceive.

Millions of people were relying on the state and the state controlled media for their safety and were lied to. My country has sent fathers of my school friends to shovel cement in deadly radiation without any protection whatsoever and without informing them about the risks. My country has tried to prevent my parents from bringing me and my baby sister to a safer place. My country has lied to me about the true consequences of the catastrophe. And if my country is my home, what’s left for me?

I am sure I’m not the only one feeling angry and powerless even 25 years after the accident. Loads of research has been done to determine the actual damage of the catastrophe, but the main focus is death and illness. Has anyone ever tried to measure how many people lost trust? Wouldn’t that change the figures drastically?

And as for people that were actually confronted with death and destruction and who had to leave their homes – I guess the tragedy is much bigger for them. I wonder how they cope.

Христос воскресе!

2011-04-24T23:11:00.000+02:00

The new business era

2011-04-22T01:54:00.001+02:00

The E-Commerce Days in Utrecht held past Tuesday and Wednesday got me seriously confused. What do you see most if you pay a visit to the E-Commerce Days? ...? ...? Paper! Eeeeuh, what does that E stand for? The new era of making business has not started yet. Not if you judge by the exhibitors of the E-Commerce Days.

So it’s paper. It’s loads of folders, flyers and leaflets. Why on Earth would I as a potential customer be prepared to carry a ton of paper around the event whole day long? How big are the odds that I actually will read any of that? Why would I, if all the information I might need is available online?

Another puzzling fact is that all that paper has quite similar layout and text. If I stood in front of a booth it took me on average twenty seconds to determine what an exhibitor’s business was. Almost all exhibitors did their best to blend in. Instead of stand out. Interesting marketing move. I must admit, they were all very successful. Along with paper half of the stands had a coffee bar. This might have been an original idea a couple of years ago, but anno 2011 it does not work anymore.

They also had pens and paper note books with black covers. There are still people who use a pen to make notes in a paper note book. Even I have a paper note book. Not that I write in it a lot. I just like it cause it’s pretty. Does anyone in their right mind would seriously think I would like to own a half-a-kilo black object that has no purpose, looks ugly and does not fit into my bag? What kind of logic is that? One guy offered me a calculator. I asked whether it was possible to make phone calls and search the internet with it. Another company had caps with their logo on them. Who’d want to wear such a thing?!

Dear #ded2011 exhibitors, could you please explain to me why you spend money on stuff that’s useless, ugly and not original instead of coming up with something different, fancy and maybe even useful?

There was just one pen that I liked and took home with me. Hmmm.

The bus

2011-04-18T23:57:00.001+02:00

I was lucky - the driver waited for me when he saw me running towards the bus – plus points!

He was driving fast (to catch up the time he spent waiting for me?), but took a couple of sharp turns shaking all the passengers off their seats – minus points.

He didn’t spend time unnecessarily stopping; he was fast just as we all needed him to be – plus points.

We came in a traffic jam and he was almost running over the car in front of us; no safe distance – minus points.

He took a slightly different route to avoid yet another traffic jam – plus points.

He then neglected to stop for a woman waiting at the bus stop – minus points.

He took sharp turns, was suddenly braking all the time, bumped against the curbs as he didn’t care, didn’t keep safe distance and I felt sick and unsafe all the way – minus, minus, minus points.

Maybe I wasn’t that lucky he’d waited for me...

Garden shopping

2011-04-16T22:07:00.000+02:00

I’ve been spending money on garden plants again. I’ve discovered shopping for plants can be as rewarding as shopping for clothes. I’ve also ordered the grass for the garden. Next weekend I can pick it up at the garden centre and put it in my garden – extremely exciting. I am looking forward to the next weekend!

In the meanwhile I wonder why people buy plastic mock-ups of small dry tree branches. Or lime coloured bird house with a fake bird in it. Do they realise that pretty little pink and purple bottles hanging in the trees in their garden will not look pretty after they are filled with rain water and dead insects? And what to do with pillows decorated with brightly coloured shells and plastic flowers? Oh, by the way, if you live in The Hague I’d recommend looking out of your window. Seeing Ringnecked Parakeets in the nearest tree might stop you from buying one for €50.

New discovery: Freshlyground - Fire Is Low

I wouldn't like

2011-04-15T01:42:00.000+02:00

I stumbled upon this writing prompt: write one leaf in the form of a list of things you never want to do. It’s quite an original idea, because usually we tend to name all kinds of things we like: things we want to do before we die, favourite reads, favourite music, favourite food. Have you ever tried to answer those ‘favourite’ questions? Did you think it was difficult to pick out just one favourite? Right.

I decided to make a list of things I wouldn’t like to do. Trust me, that’s much more difficult. But I took the time to think up some.

Things I’d never want to do:
Bungee jump.
Kill a person.
Eat insects.
Fight in a war.
Sail around the world on my own.
Use a gun.
Use drugs.
Smoke.
Commit suicide.
Get breasts implants.

What’s your ‘wouldn’t like to do’ list? Is it much longer?

This suits my mood: Maria Solheim - Ocean Needs Water (please be patient with a few seconds intro)

Jehovah’s

2011-04-13T02:16:00.001+02:00

Remember the Jehovah's Witnesses that paid me a very brief visit in February? It seems they stopped by last weekend again to drop a little leaflet in my mail box. It’s an invitation for a celebration of Christ’s death (!) and a special biblical lecture on how the Bible can help to solve modern problems. Now I’ve got several issues with this invitation.

Issue one: I have two NO-NO stickers on my door indicating I don’t want to receive any unaddressed advertising, but that didn’t stop the witnesses. Usually I take the effort to complain to the advertiser, but the booklet doesn’t give any contact information other than: Watch Tower Bible and Tract Society of Pennsylvania + a .org website address. I’m sure Americans don’t know anything about our NO-NO stickers but I sure can threaten them with a law suit, can’t I?

Issue two: the leaflet is in Russian. How do they know I can read that?! Did they dig up my personal data somewhere? I am sure I did not authorise anyone to provide this kind of information about me to Jehovah’s Whitnesses. And again, without any contact information in the Netherlands whom do I hand down to the Dutch Data Protection Authority?

Issue three: what if they claim to have received my personal data from the Lord himself? God sees and knows everything, right? How will Dutch court react to such an argument? And what if that’s true? Then I’d better go to the meeting.

Ideas anyone?

Found here. There’s more.

Pouch

2011-04-11T23:57:00.000+02:00

Very long ago, when EURO was still a virtual currency I went to the bank to exchange my guilders for some foreign money. I think these were Polish zlotys, but I’m not sure. I went home with a pouch made of paper and covered in plastic. The money was in there, but the pouch had the size to accommodate plane tickets and a passport. Travel documents pouch. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

Time went by, EURO solved most major exchange problems. So did a credit card. Plane tickets became digital. I didn’t use my plastic pouch for a long time. Until recently when I started flying with easyJet. Frequently. The pouch proved to be strong and spacious enough to fit my ticket printouts, my id card, my iPhone and my little wallet. This way I have everything I need in my hands without needing a handbag. Personnel of easyJet has never considered my plastic pouch to be hand luggage.

Yay! to my paper-plastic travel documents pouch. And too bad it threatens to fall apart very soon. How will I fly?

P.S. If you have one of those things in a decent condition laying around unused, please do send it to me! I’d be most grateful.

Heard this on the radio the other day. Liked it. Pigeon John - The Bomb

Resemblance

2011-04-06T21:52:00.000+02:00

The front page of the newspaper this morning looked like this:

Just after one glance I felt somehow connected with the man on the photo. What caused this feeling?

I know near to nothing about Côte d'Ivoire. Military uniforms aren’t my weak spot. Neither are guns. Nothing in my life resembles the life of this man. No. That’s not true. There is one thing.

As every decent Dutch I have a bicycle. I use it mainly for transportation purposes (faster, cheaper, more convenient) and sometimes for recreation. My bicycle is old, but everything works fine. It’s old enough to be left in the bicycle parking lot at the station, but good enough to ride 50km and relax on a sunny day. The only non-working part is the back fender. It’s not attached to the frame with a screw anymore because of the rust. Which is not a problem because that’s what tie-wraps are for – to keep bicycle parts together. I use two black tie-wraps to keep the fender in place.

As you may have heard, last Saturday was exceptionally warm for this time of the year in the Netherlands. A friend of mine and I went for a bike ride. We’d planned 50km and were going strong, but exactly halfway both of the tie-wraps were broken and the fender hang loose. There’s no way to ride another 25km with a loose fender. This would be the end of me and my bicycle.

My friend and I went to a café to have drink and ask for help. With some rope I could make it home, back to new tie-wraps. They didn’t have any rope. Instead the not very friendly girl gave us a roll of… tape. We used the tape to fix the fender and I made it home safe and sound. And I didn’t bother to replace the tape with tie-wraps. I just ride around on a bike that holds together with sticky tape.

And that’s exactly what Alassane Ouattara and I have in common: we both use tape to keep our gear from falling apart.

The war

2011-04-04T22:57:00.001+02:00

Enough! I am fed up! I declare a war! Two wars to be precise.

One will be against that black cat that pees in my garden and… well… you know… in my front yard. It also sits on the roof of my garden shed every night and yells the hell out of my night sleep. I tried friendly ways to let this annoying animal know I didn’t appreciate his activities on my premises: I looked him straight in the eye; I tried to scat him away every night; I sprayed animal friendly substance around the garden. Nothing worked. Yesterday I bought some animal unfriendly powder and scattered it all around the garden and front yard. It smells of garlic so badly, no creature with nostrils will dare to approach. I hope this’ll work because the next thing is shooting. I am not looking forward to a blood bath.

The second war is on snails and slugs. They scoff all plants in my garden without even giving them a chance to grow and produce more leaves. Snails don’t seem to have any notion of sustainability. DIE! I will not even try to be friendly. I have scattered anti snail and slug granules all around atop of the garlic powder. I’m not sure snails have nostrils, that’s why.

Oh, if you are a fanatic animal rights fighter, please don’t burn down my house. They started first!