We Eat Bread
Dutch word of the day:
Brood = bread
This is what we eat in the Netherlands.
When I walked towards the Apollo Hotel the first day, there was a large paved open area just outside Utrecht Centraal Station. This morning, I was greeted by a beautiful sight - that empty area was being transformed into a marketplace, and included a fresh bread stand had popped up right in front of the Apollo!
Unfortunately, before I got a chance to buy my breakfast bun, I spotted Maggie and Suzanne and we had to run off to Orientation - we were already a little behind schedule and we had to factor in the wandering-around-lost time (about 10 minutes).
When we finally found the school building on Janskerkhof ("yahns-kirk-hof"), there was a good-sized crowd of students out front. Afraid we were late, we walked through the crowd and into the building to find we were the first ones to enter the building.
The woman announced, "Ok, I guess we are ready to start Orientation." We each received a folder with our welcome documents, course schedules, ground rules, and helpful living information (police, health care, etc). Most interesting to me was a booklet entitled "What!?? Aspects of Dutch Culture That Can Cause Friction." The book explains some social manifestations of the Dutch utilitarian philosophy towards life.
Example 1 was the simplicity of housing provided to students: as Dutch students usually live near parents and travel home on the weekends for laundry, etc., and a school's responsibility is limited to providing education (as opposed to housing, food plans, and cleaning or laundry service), a student is expected to be appreciative of small, simple, and even dirty accommodations. After searching for housing on Kamernet for this long, I can see that a hand-picked apartment is certainly a luxury. This also explains why the room at the Apollo felt more like a borderline-dingy motel (not even a Motel 6), and why Suzanne and Maggie marveled at how much bigger and nicer the room I dared to complain about was than the room they were sharing at the Little Siam.
Example 2 clarified that the Dutch's utilitarian attitude even extends to food and meals. Where many cultures celebrate with food and show status with food, the Dutch simple view food as sustenance. Therefore, says this manual to Dutch culture, even meals at a nice event (like school orientation) may be very basic, comprising of bread and cheese, and not necessarily involving chairs or plates. True to this, our orientation lunch boxes included . . . bread. My lunch box contained one apple, a raisin bread bun, two hamburger-bun like breads - one with a little bit of egg salad on it, and one plain with two slices of cheddar, and a Mars bar.
Tables were set up around a courtyard, carpeted with soft, mossy grass with lots of clovers in it. We picked up white paper boxes from white folding tables under white tents, with a sign that said, "If you do not finish all your food, bring it back here. The homeless will be thankful." We ate our bread amongst new acquaintances. I collected everyone's uneaten Mars bars for Maggie, who is thrilled about their ubiquity here.
Exhausted from jetlag and with lots to do to prepare for a restful night, the girls and I went to buy Maggie necessities for her room and to the Apollo to retrieve and relocate my luggage to the Little Siam hotel. The Thai-themed hotel, above a Thai restaurant, is comfortable. Fortunately, Suzanne and I upgraded from the small room the girls were sharing to a "large" room with a private bathroom. There is plenty of room for our luggage, two twin beds and a clean shower - thank goodness. The bedclothes and headboard are made of shimmery rich silk, and we have a huge bay window with a great view of the more-suburban like Balijelaan ("buh-lay-a-lon") neighborhood.
After a much-needed nap, I had a snack of the tastiest avocado I have ever noshed, then made plans to visit and meet Arjan. He is a friend Olivia introduced me to a few months ago, and he has been . . . instrumental is a good word - absolutely, indispensably instrumental to much of the progress I have made in preparing for this trip. For weeks, he reviewed hundreds of housing advertisements and responded on my behalf, helped me write a thorough and festive response and profile for the kamernet.nl website, and networked for me. Even though I have no room, at least it is not for lack of trying!
At his house, I spoke on the phone with Olivia's sister who is also Arjan's good friend, and she invited me to Amsterdam in two weeks (after she returns from her two-week mediation camp in Belgium - ooh la la). His girlfriend served up really nice bread and cheese, which I declined. (I couldn't believe I was declining food, but this exhaustion is really distracting. I hope it wasn't an etiquette faux pas). Then, we chatted a while and he showed me what I had come over for: my new bike. I don't have a photo now because it was after dark when I saw it, but it's . . . got character. . . in the form of lots and lots rust. :)
Nonetheless, it is a vehicle. And it works. He gave me flashing lights - red to clip onto my back pocket, white to clip onto my jacket lapel. (Yes, we are wearing jackets day and night. It's chilly and breezy, interrupted with unexpected spurts of hot hot sun. If I were less tired, it might seem strange but for now, it's just the weather.) We adjusted the seat, I took a few awkward laps around the sidewalk in front of his house (I'm not graceful on a bike, generally speaking), and he sent me on my way.
In the dark, cool night, I rode to the hotel on the large road, the Crosselaan. Before I knew it, I was home. The ride was enjoyable, the evening was perrrrfect, and I couldn't help but daydream of cruising around Utrecht in the winter (much more bundled up than I was tonight). The large and separate roads created and reserved especially for bikes are about five feet wide, and have their own traffic lights. Instead of a red or green round light, the bike lane lights are red or green images of bicycles. I only had to stop at three lights riding about 2 miles on a major city road.
Tomorrow, I will try to meet with Kim, a director of the law program, to figure out my class schedule - as it is, I would have to remain in Utrecht through January 15 for final exams (with a two-week break at Christmas). I would like to sign up for some "condensed" courses which would end before Christmas. Hope that will work.
A note on housing:
Today I called Geoff's friend Judith ("Yudith"), who has offered me her couch. I hope to find accommodations soon, but if not, I will be on her couch starting on Sunday or Monday. She also invited me to her graduation party on Sunday, where many locals who might be looking for tenants or know of someone who is, will be in attendance. That should be a good housing-networking opportunity. And finally, I still have faith. I promise to openly admit when I have lost faith in finding actual housing, but today at the orientation, many people were in Suzanne's and my situation, and the school basically said, "It is very common; there is nothing we can do." So, c'est la vie. . . la vie de personne sans abri. I can't be homeless in Utrecht forever.
Brood = bread
This is what we eat in the Netherlands.
When I walked towards the Apollo Hotel the first day, there was a large paved open area just outside Utrecht Centraal Station. This morning, I was greeted by a beautiful sight - that empty area was being transformed into a marketplace, and included a fresh bread stand had popped up right in front of the Apollo!
Unfortunately, before I got a chance to buy my breakfast bun, I spotted Maggie and Suzanne and we had to run off to Orientation - we were already a little behind schedule and we had to factor in the wandering-around-lost time (about 10 minutes).
When we finally found the school building on Janskerkhof ("yahns-kirk-hof"), there was a good-sized crowd of students out front. Afraid we were late, we walked through the crowd and into the building to find we were the first ones to enter the building.
The woman announced, "Ok, I guess we are ready to start Orientation." We each received a folder with our welcome documents, course schedules, ground rules, and helpful living information (police, health care, etc). Most interesting to me was a booklet entitled "What!?? Aspects of Dutch Culture That Can Cause Friction." The book explains some social manifestations of the Dutch utilitarian philosophy towards life.
Example 1 was the simplicity of housing provided to students: as Dutch students usually live near parents and travel home on the weekends for laundry, etc., and a school's responsibility is limited to providing education (as opposed to housing, food plans, and cleaning or laundry service), a student is expected to be appreciative of small, simple, and even dirty accommodations. After searching for housing on Kamernet for this long, I can see that a hand-picked apartment is certainly a luxury. This also explains why the room at the Apollo felt more like a borderline-dingy motel (not even a Motel 6), and why Suzanne and Maggie marveled at how much bigger and nicer the room I dared to complain about was than the room they were sharing at the Little Siam.
Example 2 clarified that the Dutch's utilitarian attitude even extends to food and meals. Where many cultures celebrate with food and show status with food, the Dutch simple view food as sustenance. Therefore, says this manual to Dutch culture, even meals at a nice event (like school orientation) may be very basic, comprising of bread and cheese, and not necessarily involving chairs or plates. True to this, our orientation lunch boxes included . . . bread. My lunch box contained one apple, a raisin bread bun, two hamburger-bun like breads - one with a little bit of egg salad on it, and one plain with two slices of cheddar, and a Mars bar.
Tables were set up around a courtyard, carpeted with soft, mossy grass with lots of clovers in it. We picked up white paper boxes from white folding tables under white tents, with a sign that said, "If you do not finish all your food, bring it back here. The homeless will be thankful." We ate our bread amongst new acquaintances. I collected everyone's uneaten Mars bars for Maggie, who is thrilled about their ubiquity here.
Exhausted from jetlag and with lots to do to prepare for a restful night, the girls and I went to buy Maggie necessities for her room and to the Apollo to retrieve and relocate my luggage to the Little Siam hotel. The Thai-themed hotel, above a Thai restaurant, is comfortable. Fortunately, Suzanne and I upgraded from the small room the girls were sharing to a "large" room with a private bathroom. There is plenty of room for our luggage, two twin beds and a clean shower - thank goodness. The bedclothes and headboard are made of shimmery rich silk, and we have a huge bay window with a great view of the more-suburban like Balijelaan ("buh-lay-a-lon") neighborhood.
After a much-needed nap, I had a snack of the tastiest avocado I have ever noshed, then made plans to visit and meet Arjan. He is a friend Olivia introduced me to a few months ago, and he has been . . . instrumental is a good word - absolutely, indispensably instrumental to much of the progress I have made in preparing for this trip. For weeks, he reviewed hundreds of housing advertisements and responded on my behalf, helped me write a thorough and festive response and profile for the kamernet.nl website, and networked for me. Even though I have no room, at least it is not for lack of trying!
At his house, I spoke on the phone with Olivia's sister who is also Arjan's good friend, and she invited me to Amsterdam in two weeks (after she returns from her two-week mediation camp in Belgium - ooh la la). His girlfriend served up really nice bread and cheese, which I declined. (I couldn't believe I was declining food, but this exhaustion is really distracting. I hope it wasn't an etiquette faux pas). Then, we chatted a while and he showed me what I had come over for: my new bike. I don't have a photo now because it was after dark when I saw it, but it's . . . got character. . . in the form of lots and lots rust. :)
Nonetheless, it is a vehicle. And it works. He gave me flashing lights - red to clip onto my back pocket, white to clip onto my jacket lapel. (Yes, we are wearing jackets day and night. It's chilly and breezy, interrupted with unexpected spurts of hot hot sun. If I were less tired, it might seem strange but for now, it's just the weather.) We adjusted the seat, I took a few awkward laps around the sidewalk in front of his house (I'm not graceful on a bike, generally speaking), and he sent me on my way.
In the dark, cool night, I rode to the hotel on the large road, the Crosselaan. Before I knew it, I was home. The ride was enjoyable, the evening was perrrrfect, and I couldn't help but daydream of cruising around Utrecht in the winter (much more bundled up than I was tonight). The large and separate roads created and reserved especially for bikes are about five feet wide, and have their own traffic lights. Instead of a red or green round light, the bike lane lights are red or green images of bicycles. I only had to stop at three lights riding about 2 miles on a major city road.
Tomorrow, I will try to meet with Kim, a director of the law program, to figure out my class schedule - as it is, I would have to remain in Utrecht through January 15 for final exams (with a two-week break at Christmas). I would like to sign up for some "condensed" courses which would end before Christmas. Hope that will work.
A note on housing:
Today I called Geoff's friend Judith ("Yudith"), who has offered me her couch. I hope to find accommodations soon, but if not, I will be on her couch starting on Sunday or Monday. She also invited me to her graduation party on Sunday, where many locals who might be looking for tenants or know of someone who is, will be in attendance. That should be a good housing-networking opportunity. And finally, I still have faith. I promise to openly admit when I have lost faith in finding actual housing, but today at the orientation, many people were in Suzanne's and my situation, and the school basically said, "It is very common; there is nothing we can do." So, c'est la vie. . . la vie de personne sans abri. I can't be homeless in Utrecht forever.
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