Coat Wars

Mythbusters: Parisian Special

Everyone is always talking about the French. For most travelers, it stirs up more preconceptions than one can count. They’re stubborn, they’re mean, and they smell. Well, after a weekend in Paris, let’s see what these mythbusters discovered.

Myth #1: French people know English, but they refuse to speak it. If it’s not French, forget it.

Before going to Paris, we were told that we would have a hard time communicating and getting around if we didn’t speak French. “They’re stubborn,” we were told. “You have to speak their language when you’re in their country.” Myth. The minute we stepped off the train, two different young Frenchmen actually approached us to see if he could help us. I immediately thought scammer or pickpocketer, but they both turned out to be helpful. They spoke English and helped us get through the subway. After that, almost everyone from hotel managers to restaurant waiters were willing to help us in English. This is probably true only in Paris, the biggest tourist destination in Europe, but nevertheless, we fared well.

Myth #2: French people are mean.

I’m not sure. We saw some awfully cold and mean people around Paris, but every city so far has had their fair share. French males are, however, very obvious in their gazing at the opposite sex. They have no problem blatantly staring at a girl, even making eye contact, gestures, or winks when necessary.

Myth #3: French people smell.

Definitely true. We took public transportation a lot this weekend, and this often involves close contact with the Frenchies. I don’t know if it’s because they don’t shower, or if they just don’t use soap/deodorant, but they emit some awful odors. I even think dandruff is trendy in France.

Myth #4: Paris is the city of love.

Never before have I seen more couples making out in one weekend in one place than this weekend in Paris.

Woman: “Oh, look honey, there’s the Eiffel Tower! Wanna make out?”
Man: “Yeah, I guess."
Woman: "Baby, look! It's the Arc de Triomphe! Let's make out!"
Man: "OK."
Woman: "Wow, look at all the lights! Kiss me, honey!"

Woman: “I’m bored, and the subway doesn’t come for another three minutes.”
Man: “Wanna make out?”
Woman: “Heck yeah.”

I guess you can call it love.


Myth #5: French people aren’t too fond of Americans.

True. For being such an “international” city, they do a good job of covering up any and all traces of America. Even the menu at McDonald’s was “Frenchized” to make it look like one of their own. The French people also acted differently when they discovered we were from America. For example, our hotel clerk got that disappointed little grin on his face, sighed, and tried to politely hide his uneasiness for the sake of what was in our wallets. Well I have news for you, jerk, I dislike you.

So those are just a few of the myths that I experimented with this weekend. Keep in mind, though, that they are just based on my personal experiences in one weekend. I’m sure some of you have had some quite different experiences, from which you would draw different conclusions.

To see pictures of the Mythbusters in action, go to the picture pages:
Picture Page 1
Picture Page 2

Let Freis-dom Ring

Last weekend I, accompanied by Jessica and some relatives, explored a greater part of the Northern Dutch province known as Freisland.

I'm sure you've seen traces of it before - the colorful blue stripes and red lily pads of their flag, the Freisian Hulstein cow, dikes and of course, "slukjes." (Up until last weekend I was a bit skeptical of JT's numerous references to his Oma and "slukjes." But, rest assured, they exist. And boy, are they tasty.)

The weekend was very relaxing for a change, as we spent a lot of time chatting with numerous members of the enormous Brouwer family over a cup of coffee. We stayed with the sister of Jack and Elko, and if it means anything to you, she's the female version of Elko. (I'll let the imagination do the rest.) So, in order to allow Jessica to get in touch with her roots, we took a few nice drives through the Freisian countryside in search of a little family history.

The results were fascinating for me, and it's not even my family. As it turns out, Jessica's great-grandfather, Gerrit Brouwer, was a fallen hero of the Dutch Resistance during WWII. He was part of a small group of Freisian men who took up arms in order to stop the German invasion of Freisland. On April 14, 1945, just one day before the Canadians liberated Holland, he was struck by a German grenade during a rural skirmish. Due to a lack of hospitals and transportation, he didn't survive the night. Gerrit, a man of only 37 years old, left behind a wife and six children. Soon after the war, all but one child immigrated to Canada.

This story in itself probably wouldn't have meant as much as it did if it weren't so real. It's one thing to hear the story, but it's another thing to be standing on the same ground in which the events took place. We also visited the homestead of the family, Gerrit's gravesite, and a special memorial dedicated to the Freisian men of the Dutch Resistance. They all served as powerful supplements to the already intriguing stories.

So that's the story of Jessica's family. Hard to "top", you might be thinking. It's quite a "tall" order. But wait 'til you see the great "heights" to which the Faber Family has gone to. The tension is "rising," and the blood pressure is "high........"

Great Grandpa Hans

Dropping the Pounds

A jolly long three-day weekend, and nothing to do. What then? Well, off to the UK with my mates, I say.

We had three days to kill, and my guidebook suggested spending them all in the capital city of London. Train, plane, and automobile later, we arrived at our hostel on Thursday eve.

First off, London is expensive - terribly expensive. Their currency is the English “pound,” and our almighty dollar only buys a half of one pound. Simply put, everything in England is twice as expensive. A drink at Starbucks is 3-4 pounds, or 6-8 US dollars. So money quickly becomes an issue.

Second, our hostel definitely left something to be desired. We ended up at an 836-bed youth hostel called the “Generator” that prided itself much more on hosting drinking games for teenagers than washing their sheets. After one night in my bunk bed, I acquired a nice little rash on my stomach, probably compliments of the last disease-infested teen to sleep in the bed. Worst of all, our room held a terrible “dirty gym sock” odor all weekend due to faulty plumbing. But the free breakfast was good.

So what’s there to see in London? Well, being the good young Dutchmen that we are, we decided to tackle this question in the cheapest way possible – on foot. Circling the entire city in just one short day, we walked an estimated 12 miles. So let’s just say we got our cardio in for the week. But the sights made the journey well worth it. Here’s a rundown:

Buckingham Palace: the historic royal residence where hundreds of tourists flock each day to see the “changing of the guards.” It was all a bit anti-climactic; they’re more talk than walk. (Although they do wear some fantastic hats.)

Westminster Abbey: Probably the most fascinating site in London. Founded in the 10th century, this church became the official “coronation church” a few years later when William the Conqueror was crowned. Since then, it has become home to the graves of countless royalties and public figures. Bloody Mary, Henry VII, Elizabeth I, Geoffrey Chaucer, Charles Darwin – you name him/her – they got ‘em. My favorite relic was the well-worn coronation chair, on which every British monarch since 1066 has been crowned.

Big Ben: It’s not that special, I guess. It’s just a big gothic bell tower. But it’s got such a sweet name…

The Thames River: Cutting through central London, its various bridges are a delight both to look at as well as walk across. And the London Bridge? You guessed it – it fell down. A boring replacement was built in its stead, focusing all the attention on its neighbor – the Tower Bridge.

Other squares and parks: London is filled with eye-pleasing squares (Trafalgar, Piccadilly) and parks (Hyde, Regent), all of which made for an enjoyable trek around the city.

Last but not least: As of this weekend, I have fulfilled one of my lifelong dreams. No, I didn’t meet Mark-Paul Gosselaar, and no, I didn’t go for a swim in a giant mound of pennies. No, this is much bigger. I saw Les Miserables, unarguably the best musical of all time, live at the Queens Theatre. I saw Les Mis back in the day at the San Diego Civic Center, but nothing competes with an enthusiastic London cast – thick British accents and all – in a bustling theatre district in downtown London. It was a stunning performance, to say the least, and it was worth every pound.

So despite the weighty prices and long walks, London was the perfect destination for a three-day weekend. With an unmatched theatre district, a fascinating imperialistic history, and an exquisite riverside charm, it was worth dropping a few pounds for.

Searching for a Purrpose

For the first time in my life, I'm living in the same house as a cat. I have expressed my dislike for our feline friends on more than one occasion, and recent occurrences have heightened the situation. Perhaps it's time to blog about it.

My dislike for cats doesn't stem from any horrifying childhood experiences, or even recent disturbing run-ins. Sure, just yesterday my breakfast was tainted by cat vomit on the kitchen floor (or was that Hagel?); and sure, everytime I sit down on a chair or sofa I attract hundreds of clingy blond hairs. But I assure you - I have always disliked cats.

Let's weigh the cons and pros of having a cat in your house:

Cons:
1.They can't talk.
2.They can't even bark.
3.They don't offer any protection from intruders. If anything, they encourage it by allowing an entrance through the cute little "cat door."
4.They smell like cat.
5.They don't do anything. They sit around all day, usually by the window, staring at something. Every day, they stare at that same thing and won't tell anyone else what they're looking at (see #1).
6.You can't play with them. Try throwing a stick to a cat once and see what it does. Well, I'll tell you. It walks over to the window sill and parks its fur on the warmest, flattest spot.
7.They leave hair everywhere.
8.They carry certain allergens to which 2% of the population has allergic reactions to.
9.When they get wet, they smell like wet cat.
10.They always take up the best chair in the living room that you want to sit in, and you can't kick it out because he was there first, and your host mom is watching.

Pros:
1.It's fun to watch them jump onto high objects.
2.Sometimes they are nice enough to sit on your lap.
3.Having a cat gives you something to be obsessed with. You then have permission to buy cat calendars, decorations, and maybe even cat towel sets.
4.They can watch you watch T.V.
5.Their little blond hairs are a purrfect accent to the brown suede chair.
6.They're fun to accidentally step on.
7.They're great conversation pieces.

There it is - fair and balanced. Now you decide.

Heidelberg Castlechism

After recently coming up empty-handed in Belgium looking for the “Confession,” this weekend I decided to head to Germany on a quest for the holy Catechism.

I should have known it’d be a failure.

I discovered only one mention of our beloved Catechism in Heidelberg. And it wasn’t even in writing – it was oral. It went a little something like this:

Castle tour guide (at the end of the tour): “I tell you a little story about an American group I had a few years back. They were a group from a little town in Michigan called ‘Holland.’”

The crowd chuckles at such a funny name.

Guide: “And they said to me at the end of the tour, ‘Do you know anything about the Heidelberg Catechism? That’s what we know Heidelberg for, and it’s half of the reason we came here.’

Crowd laughs again at such a ridiculous comment.

Guide: “Yeah, yeah, funny isn’t it? They were, um, how do you call them, Reformed people? Yeah! It was pretty funny…”

Me: “Haha…yeah…dorks…”

Well, that was as close as I came to any mention of the Catechism, but I was pleasantly surprised with the rest that Heidelberg had to offer. Here are some of the highlights of the weekend:

Car: This was the first (and probably only) weekend that we tried renting a car instead of taking a train/plane/bus. We piled five people into a shiny new VW Golf, and putted our way across the border into Southwestern Germany. Diesel-powered and fuel efficient, we managed to make it there on a minimal budget. It was also a chance to drive on the infamous Autobahn.

Hotel: Another first. Instead of a crowded, busy youth hostel, we found a hotel at the same price. It was good to relax at night with a game of five-player Rook.

Heidelberg’s famous Schlosser (Castle): The highlight of the city and one of the most popular castles in the world. Nestled in the hillsides along the Neckar River, this medieval castle boats authentic ruins and gloriously re-constructed interiors. We spent over two hours exploring and gawking at everything it had to offer. To top it off, it offered perfect scenic views of the city.

World’s Largest Wine Vat: Its name is unpronounceable, and its size is unbelievable.

Heiliggeistkirche (Church of the Holy Spirit): Yet another Catholic-turned-Protestant church. The church itself was nothing special, but the view from its tower made it worth the 326-step climb to the top.

Neckarsteinach: A small fishing village a few kilometers upstream from Heidelberg. Four medieval castles lay burrowed in the hillside forest – two are abandoned, unoccupied, and open, and the other two still have residents. All of the castles were built around the 12th-13th centuries and provided great views from their climbable towers. The Kunst Weg (Castle Road), a meandering foot path through the forest, connected the castles and made for a very peaceful, enjoyable little hike.


All said and done, I’m 0 for 2 in my search for the Reformed Confessions. We’ll see what London brings next week – I hear Westminster is a nice area…