Party down, it's...Monday?

Upon talking to the native Zwollenaars, I have come to discover an interesting difference between American college life and Dutch college life.

As part of an introductory project upon arriving, we American students spread out into the city and had talks with different clergymen, college students, bar owners, vendors, etc. When chatting with the young owner of a college bar in town, one of the first questions to come up was, naturally, "what do the college students do for fun on the weekends?"

The answer, later affirmed by others, was quite surprising. As it turns out, the weekends are more or less "dead" in Zwolle. In fact, the owner said that Saturday is one of the worst days for business. The best days? Tuesday and Thursday nights - College Night.

The reason is this: all college students go home on the weekends. Even if they're twenty-four years old, they travel up to four hours to be with their family. So, it appears, they "party" during the week. A strange mix of traditional/nontraditional values, if you ask me, and quite contrasting to the U.S.

A Historian's Delight

Today Jessica, Lawren, Beth and I spent the day in the historic city of Utrecht, Netherlands.

Founded by the Romans in 46 A.D. and developed in the 12th century, Utrecht is famous for being a religious center of Europe. It's most famous church is the "Domkerk," accompanied by the gothic Dom Tower, the highest and oldest church tower in the Netherlands. Pictures don't do justice, but they help.

We walked around the entire city center, canals and churches being the most common sight. We spent most of our time inside the astonishingly ornate churches, trying hard not to identify ourselves as Protestants. The most popular church, the Domkerk, was by far the most interesting. This enormous church was littered with faceless sculptures, statues, and paintings. I thought this to be rather interesting. Why were the faces broken off on all the sculptures and scratched out on all the paintings? After reading a few description tags, I soon discovered that they were all broken off by the Protestants. Fed up with the Catholics' iconoclastic obsessions, the Protestants took over in 1580 and de-faced all the beloved saints.

After we had seen enough churches, we followed the canals through busy city streets. Despite the city's age, it has become quite the bustling "University" city. Shops and markets litter the narrow main streets, while a delicate mix of whorehouses, bars, and "coffeshops" make up the side streets. We actually went in very few stores - both because they sell nothing but junk and because they can't hold more than three people at a time.

Overall it was a very enjoyable day, especially given the relative inexpensiveness of the trip. 35 euros for a good history lesson and some impressive sight-seeing isn't bad, I think.

Shelf Life

I told myself I would never blog about "merds," but out of respect for others, I'll go with it.

Lately I have been blogging about my experiences here in the Netherlands, and this post is no exception. This particular entry focuses on one particularly interesting aspect of Dutch culture: their merds.

The interesting part isn't the merd itself, it's the toilet. The toilets here are a bit different than those used in North America. First of all, the "hole" or "drain" is at the front of the bowl instead of the back. The entire back half of the bowl is a giant ceramic "shelf." Basically, it's a stool for your stool. So when you're finished doing your duty, a high-powered flusher washes the goods down to the front of the bowl and down the drain.

I'm not exactly sure why the Dutch choose to display their droppings. Maybe it makes for an interesting conversation piece? It certainly doesn't help the smell. Perhaps the Dutch have a longer "shelf life" than Americans?

Well, Eric, I know what you're thinking right now: I have to have one of those. Well, they're kind of big and heavy, but I'll do my best to fit it in my suitcase.

Picture update

The weather has been rather gray and stormy lately, hindering any photo-taking. But I managed to snap a few pictures this afternoon. (Bill, here's your windmill.) The second two pictures are of Oosterenk Stadium, home to FC Zwolle, just two blocks from my house. Tomorow night we are watching them play Emmen, team toward the bottom of the standings. But for around $10 a ticket, it should be worth it. Let me know if you want any souvenirs.

The Pick-Nicker

I have a rather humorous joke I'd like to pass on from here in the Netherlands:

This morning, our energetic Dutch language professor was trying to explain the Dutch word for "pickpocket." I don't remember the actual word, but a funny little anecdote accompanied the definition. It was a little shocking, so for those of you who are politically correct, a word of caution.

The professor began by warning us of the dangers of "pickpocketers" throughout Europe. He then said, "You know what we call the pickpocketers who are black, right?" The class gave a hesitant "No.....what?" I was mentally preparing myself for a joke about the stereotype of blacks being theives. "Funny," I thought. "I didn't think people from the Netherlands were like that. After all, there are a lot of black Dutch people."

The professor went on: "Well, the Dutch word for a black person is "nigger," making them "pick-niggers" - "pick-nickers" - "pick-niggers" - "get it??" The class gave a curteousy half-chuckle, but it was a little racy for most. For a second I thought he was going to elaborate even more, making a reference to "black people" picking cotton. But that was it - that was the joke - "pick-nickers."

The professor didn't act like it was racy at all, so I'm curious as to how the Dutch view racism/other races. After all, their beloved Sinter Klaus does have a black slave, Zwarte Piet. So I'll have to check that one out.

Oh, and if you're wondering what my other goals are, here are a few:

1. Run with the bulls in Madrid
2. Bathe in the Rhine
3. Save an entire Dutch town by sticking my finger in a dike
4. Sing while walking atop the Swiss Alps
5. Write graffitti on the Berlin Wall
6. Kick somebody in Paris

Zwolle Knows How to Party

Last night was another first - a Dutch birthday party.

It was a fellow Dordt student's birthday, so her host family organized a little get-together for her. The party began rather simple - coffee, tea, cake, pie, and of course, "Lang zal ze leven." But just when we all thought that the festivites had ended, the host dad brought a table neatly decorated with more than enough Amstel, Heineken, and fine wines. We casually cracked a few, and within minutes the party was beginning to liven up.

The part that struck me most about the night was the Dutch hospitality shown by the host and hostess. They love to serve people. They won't even let you throw your napkin away by yourself. It's awesome on the verge of being shameful.

So for the hours that followed, upwards of six platters full of cheeses, meats, vegetables, and hors'devours were passed around, as well as countless bowls of Dutch munchies. Apparently they were impressed with our appetites (thirsts?), because the host dad made a second trip to the supermarket for another case of Heineken...and Gouda.

So if you enjoy an aged Merlot, a cold Heineken, and some good Gouda, head out to Zwolle. You shan't be disappointed.

Welkom

Johnny already introduced another new friend to the blogosphere, but I felt it was worthy of another post. If Lawren keeps it up, his blog looks to be an entertaining place for heated political debates. Come, one and all, to the "L-Zone."

Eventful Sabbath

After a delicious breakfast of Hagel on bread, I ventured into my first Sabbath in Holland. First was church. I didn't know what to expect going into it, but it ended up being very similar to my very own EURC.

First of all, I don't know what denomination it was. It was Reformed, and that's all I could figure out. The order of worship was identical to my home church, so there was some familiarity despite the fact that the entire service was in Dutch. One interesting thing: the elders, which consisted of six men, sat in the front of the church, off to the side on folding chairs, during the entire service. Thought that was interesting. There was also a strange break in the service, when, for about 20 seconds, nobody did anything. I thought it was time for the offering because everyone was popping a mint in their mouth, but there was no offering. I seriously think that they have a designated slot in their order of worship for popping in a Whillemina or a King peppermint. More churches should do that.

Then, immediately after church, six of us students began a "progressive dinner" in our neighborhood. First we went to one house for coffee and stroopwaffels, then a second for Pea Soup and bread, a third for Curry Chicken, Rice, etc., a fourth for yoghurt and granola, and a fifth for beer and cake. We spent about an hour at each house, and it was fun getting to know different families. Three of the families were very young couples, two of them with kids. I got off to an awesome start at the first house by asking the man what he did for a living. He hesitated, then responded that he doesn't work. He stays home with his two kids. Strike one. Well, I figured he was a black sheep, so an hour later I asked the same question of the man at the next house. I figured that since he didn't have any children, he had a job - but I was wrong. He started to stutter a few words before his wife jumped in and said that she worked three jobs. Yep. THREE. So, maybe he pulled a Mark Memmelaar, right? No, he doesn't go to school, either. Awesome. I want to be that guy - he should be commended. But it was interesting to see that three out of the five households had women bringing home the bacon. I started up a conversation with one of the wives about it, and she responded with something along the lines of, "Well, it seems to be a popular new things these days, and more and more people are doing it, so why not? It works." European philosophy and worldview in a nutshell, no joke. It's a little bit like my motto - If it feels good, do it.

Night church isn't very popular among the churches out here it seems, which is not all that surprising in a way. Not many churches take "night church" very seriously anymore. It is becoming more and more "optional." But tonight, since out host family was not going to be attending night church, we allowed another young man from the church to escort us to a "worship service" for younger people. Now I have never been to the infamous "Flood" in San Diego, but I would imagine that is very similar to this "service." It was basically a concert in a local gymnasium, packed with 5000 young Dutchies. The show of sounds, lights, and video were stunning, and they even had a professional five-camera live broadcast of the event on the "projector." The crew for the show must been around 50 people. It started with some thugged out Dutch, white rappers, backed up by two hoed-out female dancers on stage. It was ridiculous, but quite entertaining. A few praise and worship songs were next, followed by a skit, a message, an "offering" (some kids walking through the crowd with buckets - no, not KFC), and more singing. In all, it lasted over 2 hours. So, I think I'll go to an actual church next week.

But, in all, the day way a good one. One nice thing about Sundays in Zwolle is that all of the stores are closed. The only businesses open are gas stations, which I really appreciate. It's funny, because sometimes I think that if all businesses shut down in Escondido on Sundays, people wouldn't be able to make it. We just wouldn't be able to function. Well, Zwolle (a city of over 100,000) is living proof that it works. To top it off, the work week doesn't officially start until about 11:00 a.m. tomorrow. That is when most shops open again. It make Sunday nights a little less rushed, I guess.

Well, "classes" start tomorrow morning, so I'll be off to bed. Cheeri-o.

First Take

Lawren and I just got back from town. Because it's Saturday, the "market" downtown is bustling. It's basically a big street fair with hundreds of vendors.

Here are some pictures.

Our house, as shown in the first picture, is situated in the middle of the city. We live right on the corner of a busy "roundabout" or intersection. So it's only a few blocks from downtown. The family has lived in the house for only two years, which was at that time renovated into a home from a livery stable for horses.

De Colonisten van Catan

While browsing through the Glas family's (my host family) selection of board games and puzzles this morning, I saw a little glimpse of the homeland. That's right: Settlers of Catan.

They have not just Settlers, but Seafarers, too. So, hopefully Evar (son, 15) will bring his little friends over and game it up sometime. Or, as a particular blogger might like to hear (notice there's no link), Roanne (daughter, 13) might bring over her friends from school, like she did yesterday afternoon. We chatted in half-English for quite sometime, and the father (Gerrit) said that his daugther and her friends were "very excited" for the American boys to come.

Well, off to go out for my first exploration of the city of Zwolle. No bike yet, so I'll be taking it by foot. I'm bringing my camera, so hopefully some pictures will soon follow.

I'm missing something

Two more days left until I venture out into the great land of liberalism, and many curiosities prick my mind about the Old World.

I have been trying to read up on Europe as much as I can in order to lessen the culture shock, but there are still many things I am just unsure about.

Up until today, my biggest uncertainty was riding a bike in Holland. That will be our primary mode of transportation, so we better be good at it. Now I biked quite a bit as a youngster, so I brushed off the warnings by the program's coordinators that the bikes in Holland are different. According to the head coordinator., the funniest day for the students and facutly at the university there is the day that the Americans receive their bikes. She said that they all run to the second story windows facing the parrking lot to watch in jest as we ride away on our new bikes.

I think everyone who is going on the program was a little bit scared, but I was more confused. What kind of bikes are these? Do they have three wheels? Do they have a steering wheel instead of handle bars? Do you pedal with your hands? Naturally, My imagination went wild.

This had been prickling my curiosity up until today. We got an email from the coordinator with an attached picture of the infamous European bikes. Ahh. It all makes sense now. Check out the picture and you'll discover why.

Yep, you guessed it - if you look closely, you will notice it - a bell on the handlebars. Not a horn, but a bell.

I dread the day that we receive those bikes.

A New Era-n

For more catchy, clever titles that don't really work, go here.

Amidst a chorus of cheers, shouts, confetti, and fireworks, today I am 21.

OK, so maybe there wasn't confetti, but last night I celebrated. I started off the night strong at CCHS's murder-mystery dinner theater with the fam. It was wild, but I survived. Later, as the clock approached the stroke of midnight, I....waited. Robert, Luke, Z, and I ended up at O'Sullivan's Irish Pub in Escondido, and we enjoyed a few lagers to the tune of some live Irish music. It was a truly edenic experience.

Now, ironically, I will soon join the hoards of high schoolers in the pubs and bars across Europe in an anticlimactic coming-of-age. So, in the words of Coop Cooper, "Happy Birthday, you're not special."

Deja Vu

School is back in session at the alma mater, and as of late I have been making my way to a few CCHS basketball games. Last night was a home game, so I made my way over to the gym to watch Reuben light up the court. Oh, and contrary to "popular" belief, high school sports ROCK. And I love being "that guy."

The game was a little boring until, halfway through the second quarter, I thought I was in high school all over again. Why? Two reasons.

First, a strapping young man who I thought was my beloved ex-roommate walked through the doors of the gym. With his shirt off, tanned bod, short brown hair, dominating forehead, and soccer bag in hand, I almost jumped out of my seat. Nope. Just his brother, Dan, carrying the torch through a packed gymnasium. Anyhow, I joined him for a shower in hopes of a vicarious healing experience.

Second, my pops, Lyle, hit a new low. If you've ever attended a soccer game in which my dad has been present, you know what I'm talking about. He has a bad habit of saying really stupid stuff, mostly to officials. He was especially notorious in the late 80's/early 90's for getting ejected from games. Usually being the coach, that's not such a good thing. Well, it's been a while since he has coached one of his son's soccer games, and he has since grown out of that "phase." Reuben plays JV basketball, so my dad is forced to sit in the bleachers and remain somewhat removed from the politics of the game.

Back to the game last night. My dad volunteered to work the stat book at the scorer's table last night (a JV game versus a horrific Julian team on a Tuesday night is pretty low-key and laid-back). All of a sudden, in the middle of the third quarter, Reuben got whistled for a questinable foul at midcourt - right in front of the scorer's table. But when the ref walked over to the scorer's table to report the foul, he made a big fuss about the something. The crowd, confused about what was going on, watched in a hushed curiosity.

It soon became clear: the ref had ejected my dad. Either we had to find a new scorekeeper, or we forfeit the game. My dad had apparently yelled at the ref for the call, and the ref didn't like it.

When ridiculed about it at home later that night, he pleaded innocence, as always. Supposedly he was yelling at Reuben, not the ref. Likely story, as usual.

Last night, a new page was turned in my father's sports-spectaror career book. But let's hope it's not the end. Reuben still has a few more years, and there's always grandchildren. After all, if he can get ejected from the scorer's table of a JV boys basketball game at Calvin Christian High School, anything is possible.

Troy?

I haven't seen Troy yet, but after seeing so many movie stills of Brad Pitt, I'm tempted to just buy the DVD for 15 bucks. I figure if I rent it, that's 5 bucks already anyways.

For the three of you who read my blog - any suggestions?

Water-Blogged

Today's rainy weather brought me back to one of my favorite childhood pasttimes: the public library. I don't think I've been there since junior high, so I was naturally quite nervous about coming back after being gone for such a long time.

As a kid, I would immediately hang a hard left and head upstairs to the children's literature section. I'd sign up for the bookmark contest, glance at the entries on the surrounding walls, then make my way to the "Great Brain" series books in the far corner. I was tempted to go upstairs today, but the need for a rite of passage overcame me, and I headed for the "adult" books.

I went to the library to read up on Western Europe, as I have begun mentally preparing for my semester in the Netherlands. I acquired much valuable information in my three-or-so hours of reading, and the time was well-spent. But I also learned where all the homeless people go when it rains - the Library. Normally they hang out outside the building, nibbling on a block of chesse and talking to themselves, but when it rains, apparently they head inside. And I guess they have to pretend like they are reading so that they don't get kicked out, which is even funnier. One old guy read an issue of Vogue while his buddy, a really old man, caught up on the latest celebrity gossip with People. It was entertaining, but distracting. I think maybe I'll just stick to the children's section from now on.