Trying to Sample All the Right Food Groups

My friend Mer introduced me to some of his colleagues from Erasmus University today. Over lunches and coffees we discussed my area of research and I was provided with wise advice, new intriguing ideas, and came away feeling that there was a general interest in the outcome of my project. Needless to say, if enthusiam by academics were the method to which my thesis would eventually be judged, then I think things in the field would be going quite well so far! Finding one's niche in the academic world or the need for one's project in society is unquestionably a necessary step when focussing a PhD topic. I am however, starting to feel as though I'm living on a restricted diet. So as not to misinterpret what I'm trying to say here, I'm proud to say that I've made a few fantastic connections in the academic community here and that each and every one of these connections are very important to the outcome of my research. In short, I could not do it without them. Yet, I'm beginning to hanker for a vegetarian as oppose to meat dish, a fish delicacy instead of a salad, mash potatoes instead of fries (hold the Mayo, alstublieft). I'm hungry for sustinance of a different food group, as in, I would like to hold an interview with a real, live participant! Of course when this comes up in conversations, as it almost inevitably always does, I'm told the major hold-up in securing my first interviews is my inability to speak more than a simple conversation in Dutch. I have to say that I absolutely agree, the Dutch language is key. So for now, I will study hard everyday and wait to sink my teeth into something a little more tantilising in the future; these alternative dishes have become more tantalising not only because variety is the spice of life but most probably at the count of 18 days and running, I'm already getting restless!

The Ol' Three in One Play

I went to three festivals today, yes, three in one...talk about packing it in! First, I walked down Zwart Janstraat close to my house where they were holding the 'Route Noord' festival. This consisted mainly of shop owner's wares being brought out on the street in addition to other vendors selling things from blankets laid out on the ground. There were carnival rides, large RV-like vehicles selling food and drinks from open windows, and booths set up to demonstrate the magical powers of Oxyclean and squeeze mops. I was floored by the difference that this festival made to the regular Sunday tenor that I originally associated with this street. I remarked in one of my first posts after moving here how dumbfounded I was to find that all the shops on Zwart Janstraat (except for certain food and fruit shops) were closed on Sunday. I since learned that this is the case only in the smaller areas of town and that if one walks into the city centre, it is busier than on any weekdays. To walk down this normally sleepy street on this particular Sunday, you felt as though you were walking in the middle of town as people passed by, shoulder to shoulder, yelling out deals, with the smell of food wafting into the air. Everyone coming together.

From there I rode my bike down to the Blaak Maarkt where they were having a Boek Maarkt just outside the library. It was interesting to see the incorporation of the literary societies into the normal mix of market wares on the Blaak. This area was a little less packed but since it was bordering the city centre it still enjoyed a healthy group of people.

Off again, this time to a 'Seeds of Change Festival' at the Laurenskerk, which incorporated groups for peace, groups for social change - reduction of discrimination, and welkom groups for new individuals to Rotterdam. There was a band playing live salsa and other latin music on a stage and many people were dancing along on the cobbled stones, regardless of age or partner. These festivals were set against a beautiful backdrop of a sunshine and cloudless sky, remarkable in my opinion for such a late day in September, and I and the city revellers seemed to melt back into summer.

Strangers who are Less than Strange

During the last 17 days of living here in the Netherlands, I am often surprised at the number of times I have flouted one of my mother's most sacred rules that she bestowed on me as a child. That rule was: Never Talk To Strangers! Yet, I find myself searching the internet for them, handing out my contact information, and setting up dates to meet them at places that I've never been to before. This is not to say that I'm meeting up just any Joep, Toon, or Albert (good Dutch names!) in dark alleys at quarter past midnight, no. Instead, I've most recently set up a meeting with persons who have the same needs as I do - the need to learn a language!

Yesterday, I had my first meeting with Bun (I call her Bun because she has a bun in the oven). Bun works for a bank and would like to widen her English vocabulary and improve her ability to converse quickly. Her capabilities at English greatly outweigh my own at speaking Dutch however, we met over coffee and spent the first hour speaking in Dutch (most of the time I spent sweating...apparently the part in my brain used to speak a foreign language is connected to my perspiration glands), and the next hour in English. While we've only met once we've agreed to meet again this coming week and will do so until we find ourselves fluent, or more likely, until she has her baby.

I have to say, that overall, those people with whom I've met in person, only after conversing over email, have all turned out to be really positive encounters. This includes some of the odd meetings on the streets and happenstances that occur with no preconceived plan (like the Welkom Bag neighbour in the last entry). And although at times these meetings feel like a shot in the dark and were not a part of my originally proposed methodology, they have been more than valuable to my overall time here in Rotterdam. As the ever-wise QueenB said to me the other day, If you're not up for meeting strangers (every once and a while), then you shouldn't be doing fieldwork, and I agree. Strangers don't always have to be strange but don't worry mom, I'll still use the ol' common sense!

Official 'Welkom' to the Neighbourhood!

I had quite a slow day yesterday. I never left the flat all day as I decided to search the internet for English speaking jobs here in Rotterdam. My success at finding opportunities was, shall we say, excruciatingly minor and the process itself felt like I was wading up to my knees through a peat bog. Although it comes as no surprise, my overall feeling from yesterday's search is that it is very hard to find a job here if you don't speak Dutch. I acknowledge the limitations of this 'overall feeling' as it is based on one day's search of the internet and about 5 attempts to drop my resume off at shops advertising vacancies. This process however once again brought about the importance of learning the Dutch language in order to fully survive here (unless of course you're working for an international company - but these jobs tend to be full-time and are recruited from internal pools). It also made me wonder what happens to those who have limited funds upon arrival in the Netherlands and how they manage.

It was only when Pdot got home that I snapped out of my trance with the computer and went to the store to buy groceries for dinner (the recipe included ground meat and peanut butter...it was actually delicious! I swear! Ask Pdot!).

As I walked back I was stopped just outside my building by one of our neighbours. Although I believe the neighbour's position as welcome-representative is unofficial, he welcomed me to 'the Noord' (the North), which is the area that I live in, and gave me a bag that included a portfolio of welcome information (yes, all in Dutch), some fliers for businesses in the surrounding area, some cleaning tools, candies (black liquorice – yum!), tea, pens and pads of paper. I thought it was fantastic! This small offering gave me a sense of belonging to 'the Noord' and made up for some of the day's slow pace. Pdot told me that this neighbour helps out quite a bit in our neighbourhood, especially with the children (in fact as I was speaking with him a couple of little girls were banging on our front door calling to him to fix their bikes, “Mijn Fiets Meneer!”) and during local events that are held every so often in our neighbourhood. Although I wonder if all neighbourhoods are as lucky, this welcome helped establish me as a resident of the area and brought the idea of ‘home’ somewhere closer to the idea of Rotterdam, Netherlands.

The First Big Scare

I think there is a point in everyone's field research that something goes utterly wrong and the fate of one's project flashes before the researcher's very eyes. This 'first big scare' was nothing like that thankfully but something happened yesterday that could have turned my time here very sour. Yesterday was the first day since I've arrived that I did not make extensive plans in my schedule. Usually I'm off to markets, going to festivals, meeting with colleagues, or checking out museums - something/anything to get me out of the house and into the Rotterdam life. While all of this is extremely intriguing it's starting to make a real dent in my wallet (as a Canadian student on Canadian money I really have to watch this!) and so I decided to take a long bike ride yesterday afternoon to save some cash AND to get an idea of what biking culture is all about.

My roommate showed me a nice green area around a lake and we made a route that would take me all around the city. Everything began well as I cycled along the route. I came upon sporting facilities in the park, and rode by the beautiful lake and under wonderfully old trees. There was a petting zoo with deer and ducks and geese galore! Yet, I must have taken the wrong road at some point (probably looking at the deer too long) because I ended up coming out of the park at an earlier point than I was suppose to and I thought that I was at my proper destination. Thinking I was facing south (and not north like I was) I began to cycle into another suburb of Rotterdam and not down toward the Maasboulevard like I was trying to do. Getting lost in Rotterdam has become somewhat of a pastime for myself but I choose not to mind because I've heard it somwhere before that getting lost comes before being 'found'. Yet as I rode on and on, my slipup with the directions was becoming more and more apparent to me. So while on the bike I rummaged through my purse, which I had strapped to the back of my bike, to get out the map. I cycled on for a little bit and determined that I was indeed going the wrong way. No matter, I thought to myself, I had only gone about 10 minutes in the wrong direction and I had a bike to get me back. So I turn around and start cycling back around the gas station, across the intersection, under the bridges, when I conducted my once-every-5-minute check on my purse that was sitting on the back of my bike.

I don't think I'm a very obsessive person however the straps on the back of my bike are quite loose because they're old, and so I often check to make sure that my packages (which that day only included my purse) are indeed safely stowed on the back of my bike. The only problem was that when I went to check the purse, although it was there, it was missing a couple of important items because my purse had fallen to the side of my bike and things like my WALLET had passed out of it and were left on the path somewhere (around the gas station, across the intersection, and under the bridge) behind me.

It was time for panic and heart attacks as I made the realisation, turned the bike around and rode as fast as I've ever rode before back down the bike path. Now, this would not be life and death for myself or my project. I've come prepared with photocopies of all my cards and documents and while it would be extremely annoying thing to do, everything could be replaced. Yet it was just the thought of loosing something so important in such a stupid way (if it's stolen then fine! but out of my own stupidity! the horror!) that killed me. I stopped and asked another person on the path if they had seen a wallet, "is it quite large?" I said "yes!" thinking to myself I have a Kastanza Wallet? "Then yes, I think I saw something like that back at the first intersection", he replied. "Thank yoooouuu!" I called breathlessly as I dashed away on my bike to get back to the intersection which was approximately 3 minutes away. During that ride I passed other cyclists and everytime I did so, I would give them the hairy eyeball thinking to myself that each one had picked up my wallet and were going to enjoy and nice lunch on me! But as I rounded the last corner, to my utter relief, there sat my (rather large) wallet on the path in between the road signs and the cross walk just laying there seeming to say to me: Um...forgot something?

I retraced the entire length of the path that I had traversed picking up a pen and chapstick that had also fallen out in addition to my wallet. I've come to appreciate the honesty of those cyclists/motorists on the path that day and I've decided to buy a saddlebag for my bike if for no other reason than to lessen the chance of heart attacks while in the field. I continued on along my appointed route and even made it to the Maasboulevard and eventually home. The picture above is taken from a moment's rest along the Maas. It shows the two bridges of Rotterdam. Although quite tranquil, my day was anything but. For the 'first big scare' I know I got off light as everything worked out in my favour. As I was telling my friend QueenB, I hope that I haven't used up all my luck by getting the wallet back...but if that is the case, I'll have to make my own!

Eerst dag van mijn taalcurses

I went to my first Dutch language course today. Although I've been intensively self-studying for the past three month in Canada nothing prepares you for the many different accents, dialects and the speed of conversation once in the thick of things. I find that my brain needs an extra second to process what someone has just said but most of the time this pause prompts the speaker to say the phrase again but in a different way (and then I'm trying to figure out two phases instead of one) or they flip to English, which is useful at the time but not helpful when trying to learn Dutch. I feel thirteen-years-old again as I bumble through the day of embarrassing moments and slipups in the language (On one of the first nights we were out, I tried to tell one of Pdot's friends my name but instead told him that I loved him). This does not seem to be something that I am experiencing alone, however.

Today when I was trolling through a forum on the website http://www.expatica.com/ (dedicated to providing news and information for an international community), I came upon an article written in March 04th, 2009 concerning the new Dutch publicity campaign to have everyone living in the Netherlands for significant periods of time, be able to communicate in Dutch. The campaign which ran on the TV (I've seen it only once) targets foreigners (the ad used actors of colour and one woman wearing a veil to categorise the "non-speakers") to take on the responsibility of learning the Dutch language and I assume after that to feel/be more integrated into the Dutch community. What is most remarkable however, is the number of responses this article received from the expat community. 102 reactions in total have been logged, the most recent being posted on the 15th of September. For any one forum throughout the whole of the internet I think this is quite a sizable number. The popularity of this piece prompted the site to write a couple of more articles on the subject. When looking through the reactions the views are usually polarised between two camps: those who support the campaign or believe all immigrants should learn the native language of a country that they're moving to. In the other camp, although many saw the usefulness of learning the Dutch language while living in the Netherlands, they disagreed with process (or blame) being laid solely on the shoulders of the migrants.

I agree that learning the Dutch language is tough because it is a Germanic language and very different from English in its structure. As was also reiterated in some of the posts, finding a Dutch course right for myself was indeed very hard. There is however no excuses for lacking opportunities to practice as Dutch Is Everywhere!

From my own and others' experiences, it appears that the Dutch language and individuals' abilities (and inabilities) and apparent effort at trying to learn the language is a meeting point for debate amongst many different communities living here in the Netherlands. I just hope that I'll one day be able to use the classic language-course phrase: "De kaas is oud en beschimmeld" or "the cheese is old and mouldy."

Ode to my Bike

Fast machine you let me ride so tall,

In a country where I'm considered small.

You mess my hair up in every way,

But your economically saavy-so it's okay.

You have two lights and one working chain,

By using you, the weight I will not gain.

I think cycling is the only way to see,

How the Netherlands came to be.

First Annual Harvest Festival in Rotterdam!

I was out early this morning to attend the first ever Oogst Festival in Rotterdam. Oogst translates into Harvest and this festival was dedicated to bringing awareness about local farmers and grocers to Rotterdammers. This festival was also publicised as a multicultural event as they had booths dedicated to learning about cultural types of food such as Thai, etc. In addition to having workshops about preparing food using fresh ingredients (I made my own dressing and antipasto which I was able to take home with me), coffee bars, smoothie bars, gardening clubs, bio-projects, and numerous food vendors, there was entertainment! While I was there, I watched one band play and then another artist present in spoken word. Although this was definitely a festival that catered to a wide variety of people that included many young families with young children...some of the entertainment would be considered PG-13 at the very least! Unfortunately, I tried to upload the video but found out that it is too big. I have included a general picture of the festival as a poor substitute but you'll have to believe me when I say that there was swearing in front of 2 year olds involved! In any case, the harvest proved to be a crowd pleaser and great way to experience Rotterdam.

Lost in Transit

Wow, what a day! Yesterday was my first meeting at the distinguished Meertens Instituut in Amsterdam. I was well organised and planned my route so that I could arrive by 12 noon when I was to meet my contact there. I left my apartment on time, walked to Rotterdam-Noord and that's when the trouble began! I followed all the steps to buy a ticket at the machine (the station is under construction so there is no ticketbooth with an actual person) yet when I went to pay, none of my cards would work! Debit yes, but only for a Dutch bank, Chipcard yes (of which I own one) but it didn't have the 24 Euros on it that I needed to get to Amsterdam Centraal. After fidgeting and becoming exasperated I noticed that a line had accumulated behind me and I tried to cancel out of my purchase so others could go ahead of me. Just when I thought all is lost, the man behind me asked if he could help. He ended up purchasing my ticket on his card to which I gave him money - Thank goodness. As it turns out this man was an audio technician who has travelled all over the world creating speaking podiums, concert halls, and the like. He had spent much time in Iran and had an opinion on the state of affairs in Rotterdam with regard to how Muslims living here choose their identity. He believed that religious identity had become a cultural identity for some, and that the distinction between these identities was lost to both those adopting the label 'Muslim' and those native Dutch who conflated the religious and cultural identities of individuals. Heavy talk for 10 in the morning but it works for me!

This man also informed me that my ticket to Amsterdam Centraal would not take me to the station that I was trying to go to, Amsterdam-Sloterdijk. The conductor on the train also surmised that I would have to get out and buy the extra ticket at the Central train station that would take me the one train stop further or I could take my chances with the next conductor who would switch over at the Centraal station. 'It's okay', he said, 'you have 5 minutes between when we arrive and when we leave again, so you can run to get your ticket'. Great.

So our train arrives and I'm waiting by the doors. I run downstairs to the ticket machines and search on the screen for Sloterdijk...Sloterdijk...Sloterdijk...but it's nowhere. Arg! So I queue up with other passengers to ask at the information desk. The line-up took a while and when I finally told her my issue, she gave me a mothering look, "well that's because you're looking for Amsterdam-Sloterdijk, darling" Ah, yes, I should have known. So back to the machine, I go through all the steps (which station, first or second class, single or return, full price or discount) when I realise...this machine ALSO doesn't take any of my cards and while it was only 2,20 Euros to the next stop...I was 30 cents short! So I walked into the nearest shop to purchase a small drink to get change meanwhile giving up on the idea that I would make the same train but that I would catch the next one. Wait in line, purchase a water, walk back to the ticket machine, purchase the ticket, walk slowly to the train listing on the wall when I realise...I still had one minute to make the train! So I'm running back through the station up platform 8a run up the flight of stairs just in time...to see the doors close and the train pull away.

I should also add that throughout the rest of the day I proceeded to lock myself out of my mobile (the mobile I have here has a pin code that I must be entered when it's turned back on which I forgot in the safety of my room in Rotterdam), mix-up where I was suppose to check out of the metro thus docking my Chipcard to the point where I couldn't afford another route (so I got off and tried to walk, got lost and fed up, got back on the tram and paid for another ticket) and then had to pay for both internet time and a pay phone card in order to meet with my colleague who is doing research in Amsterdam. Phew. If it feels like a wild ride just reading the blog I was very very very tired yesterday when I finally stepped back into the flat. Although I was lost in/through/around transit at points during my day, I did make some wonderful contacts and learn quite a lot. I look forward to the next time I visit Amsterdam...but maybe next time I'll take a smoother ride.

Alle is Goed

Alle is Goed means all is good. It's a saying I picked up from Pdot but I think it sums up my day nicely. Actually, I think I should be more specific, it sums up my night nicely. I've spent the last two days extremely frustrated with trying to get my bearings straight (I get lost, often!), trying to transfer money between Canadian and international accounts, trying to figure out if there are any international groups and clubs that I can join and MOST OF ALL, trying to understand what is going on around me in Dutch! Yes, it is true that many people here speak English, but I feel like such a dolt every time I can't understand someone or something. I vary between the deer-in-headlights look or smiling and nodding in order to deter people but I guess with my mother coming from the Netherlands I have a certain 'look' that predisposes me to Dutch as the first choice of communication (or if I think less egotistically, it's more likely because Dutch is the first language here, I digress).

As willing learner I am trying to find myself a Dutch course so that I can start feeling like an inhabitant of this city instead of its guest yet, as a Canadian citizen on a working/holiday visa it's quite hard to find anything (as I've come to learn) because many of the courses are for either permanent residents or recent migrants (of which the Dutch government covers the fees and so courses are set up for these groups largely). Yes, there are other courses for example, if you're affiliated with a school here then you may take a course at the university however, if you're not a visiting student with them then you cannot. Of course if I had oodles of money at my disposal I could pay for individual 'quality time' lessons for 1500 Euros (per 20 hours) and be done with it, but alas, my university has yet to cough up the dough. Last but not least, I arrived on September the 10th and many of the courses had already started. Future dates included October 12th, 27th, and November 1st. Hence, I was falling between the cracks everywhere! I heb curses voor Nederlands nodig! Nu! (I think that says "I need Dutch courses! Now!" but I could be wrong).

However, yesterday my sister and I were trolling the internet over Skype (thank god for Skype) and she and I both hit on a place giving lessons with no exams (the reason why many of the courses are so expensive is because they offer an accredited exam at the end of the course which is a necessary requirement for immigrants to acquire toward their permanent citizenship). This course starts next Monday, for a cheaper price than the other courses (no exam), for two hours a week (you can't get everything - I wanted more but I'll deal), it's close to my house AND they responded to my email with a request that I register. I hadn't realised how much not finding Dutch lessons was stressing me out until I solved the issue, what a load off my back!

In addition to this wonderful news I also received an email back from my contact at the Islamic University offering to set up a meeting between himself and myself to discuss my research in addition to setting up future interviews with people from the university. Wow! Stellar help. This man is fantastic.

Finally, I got my bike today. One of Pdot's colleagues is leaving for Hungary tomorrow and needed to sell his bike. Eh viola! One bike for Jennifer. So there is another big thank you to Pdot (as I told him earlier, if I have children, I'm pretty sure they'll have to be called Pdot) and to his colleague. In the nicest way possible I said: I'm sorry to see you go but it's a good opportunity for me, eh? I think I'm picking up some of that Dutch boldness ;). Anyway, I'm going to write an ode to my bike tomorrow. Although Pdot and I will most likely switch the bikes we're using because he's got a girl's bike (ha) and I just bought a man's bike, this bike is pretty sweet. I think I'll call it "le hot wheels".

Enough, as one can tell, the day ended alright. I found all of this good news out at about 5:30 today after a failed attempt to buy a cheap spring jacket (maybe Luke should just send one of my old ones) and no responses from my many emails for various clubs, affiliations, jobs, courses, etc.. So overall, alle is goed in Rotterdam tonight.

Artful Spaces in Rotterdam

So I went out to prove my theory that Rotterdam is filled with contradictory, breath-taking, and at times out of place art pieces. From my gallivanting I would say that to a degree I was right. There are some 'odd' pieces (yes, this is my opinion and I don't necessarily speak for anyone else). But as you'll see from this picture of...well, whatever it is, the art can be a bit far removed or at least at odds with its environment. I'm not trying to say that Rotterdam has a landscape that fits together like IKEA furniture, I just think that if art is going to be this…um… thought provoking, then why not put a little explanation with it. Let us outsiders, in?

I've gone and made a second slide show which I will display for a while. It shows some of the more spectacular pictures that I took around the city although I have to say, for all the craziness, there is just as much beauty. For all those statues that seem out of place, their location is different while at the same time the same for its inclusion of a unique piece of art. I didn’t want to spend too much time explaining anything because well, your guess is as good as mine.

Future step, I need to talk to some people concerning the rhyme and reason for these pieces of art. For the time being, they are a happy bafflement of the mind.

Deadly Serious about Funky Art

This is a temporary piece of art concerning Marjolein Kriek. She is the first Dutch woman in the Netherlands to have her entire DNA pattern mapped out. The stack that you see is her unique code printed-out on large sheets, that have been slowly added to this pulpit a sheet at a time. This peice is located in front of the the Laurenskerk (St. Lauren's Church), in the middle of a Grotekerkplein, across from the oldest statue in the Netherlands, the statue of Desiderius Erasmus. Ms. Kriek is the sixth person in the world to have her entire DNA mapped out. This peice will be taken down eventually...but it goes to show the creativity of art throughout Rotterdam!

The idea of the 'arting of Rotterdam' came about during my walk this morning - down the Zwart Janstraat where Pdot took me yesterday to see all the shops. Well, as it turns out, the Netherlands has yet to let their capitalist aspirations impose upon their Christian holy day of the week (Zonderdag-Sunday). Yet, there were a few non-Christian vendors open mostly selling fruits and groenen (veggies). Well, those shops and the McDonald's of course.

I walked all the way down Zwart Janstraat until it became Noordmolenstraat and Noordplein and then along the canal on a street called Zagmolenkade. The canal is filled with surreal art peices hence, the title of this post. My camera is currently out of batteries (Kath you were right I guess) and so I will have to return there and take a couple of pictures next Sunday. However, on a whole, I think that Rotterdamers love their extreme art and they love their art everywhere. For example, from my window you can see the adjacent playground that has three walls of murals. Also, much of the graffiti found around town is not just scribbling (as can be found in any city) but beautiful artwork. I also find that the statues are changing, mobile, striking, and at times in poor taste (see slide show where there is a bronzed statue of a puppy looking at a piece of bronzed shit in front of him, the statue almost begs you to clean up after it). Thus, Rotterdamers are deadly serious about their funky art. Tomorrow I will walk about town and really concentrate on the art there - it's such a packed city - packed full of art!

Cheers to Publicizing Diversity!

Yes, I know, two blogs today because I have to make up for lost time! Out and about today and I happened upon an extremely interesting event (see below for further details - the pic is of me drinking Turkish coffie - yum!)!

Last night, Pdot and I went out to a festival called The World of Witte de With Festival held from September 11th-13th. This is an arts festival that is described as being like the city itself : trend-setting, surprising and on the cutting edge. It included a mix of film, theatre, dance, literature, music, debate, fashion and a leading role for the visual arts. Importantly for Pdot and I, this festival spilled onto the street out front of the Witte Aap (The White Ape-a bar-which apparently was voted the best bar in the world by backpackers- both Pdot and I debate this point, it's a cool bar but probably not the best). So we stood there for around 4 hours, drinking white wine (no grey tooth!) and chatting to people passing by who knew Pdot or one of his friends. I spent much of my time explaining what my project was about which often sparked debate about immigration in some way. Most people, like Pdot, see immigration as an important lifeline to the Netherlands both economically and socially. While others have expressed their belief that Rotterdam's immigration policies were good at one point in time yet should be tightened up. I had the sense that 'things were becoming tense'. While this is nothing more than a sense, I did learn that immigration and the presence of migrants in the city (such as myself) is a topic that most anyone is willing to discuss. Overall, many people that I spoke with saw positive and negative sides to the 'immigration question'. Most often what lurked near to negative comments were certain types of migrants yet the criteria seemed to change depending on the situation, that is, there is no cut and dry answer. In general, I found that those with whom I spoke took the time to weight out a variety of aspects and while I think that there are certain people who are quick to denounce immigration and certain communities, they are not the majority in Rotterdam.

The following day (today-September 12th), Pdot and I went out walking around the town again to go down to the Blaak Market (No that's not a spelling mistake - it's the market on Blaak straat - not what I originally thought...stolen goods and back alley deals!). After the market we walked around the centre of town again and passed by large white tents. We later learned that Rotterdam is publicly celebrating Ramadan. Pdot thought it was interesting that the Dutch and Muslim community were trying to publicly present elements of the Muslim community. From what I understand, there have not been many initiatives in this area and so this event can be seen as a positive step toward community interaction. In the afternoon when Pdot and I went by the tents, there was nothing happening, and so, I returned that night with a Western (UWO) colleague, whom I shall call Meer, to check out the night's events. Although we arrived quite late, we partook (is that a word?) in food and drink and perused the information provided by http://www.islamdialoog.nl/. There were also movies playing in Dutch that unfortunately neither of us understood. The majority of the people there at 8:30pm were from the Muslim community. They ranged greatly in age from old to young and everywhere in between. The smells and sounds of the tent welcomed Meer and I and we toasted to another fruitful day in the field of Rotterdam!

Bedazzling Days

Yes, I've been here for 3 days and 2 nights and it already seems like I've been here for a month.

Nothing much happened the rest of night one. I spent much of the afternoon looking on the internet trying to find language lessons, things I had to do to extend my visa, and potential jobs (of which there are few for non-Dutch speakers). I went to bed with a crushing headache that for some reason I've woken up with each morning. I'm assuming that it's the low altitude that my body is getting use to or something like that. I woke up early on day 2 and P-dot called the naturalisation police for me. Apparently, in order to extend my visa past 3 months I have to apply for a resident's permit. Thus, I have an appointment on September 29th at 11am to apply for this...ack! I hope all goes well. P. left for the day (work, work, work!) and I decided to call my partner in PhD crime - QueenB. QB and I had a nice little chat that put my head on straight. She said "Don't forget what Cerwonka said, you've got to get out there!" And she was right.

I'm so startled by how easy it is to stay home and curl up in your bed in a foreign country. Your flat becomes the safe zone where you can connect to family and friends and so I've had to force (yes, force!) myself to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE! Anyway, i went on a nice little walk and wouldn't you know what I found? The Islamic University of Rotterdam! Ahha! Now I knew that this university was in Rotterdam but had no idea that it was in and around my neighbourhood. So I popped in (I was feeling bold), and the woman at the greeting desk introduced me to a couple of people and showed me around. It was wonderful! I left feeling boosted and with an email contact! Lucky for me-the first contact!

I went from there to the home so I could Skype my long-term partner of 3 years (who I'm now allowed to reveal is Luke). We're still trying to figure out when the best time of the day would be to connect with one another. I have to say, for those travelling for their PhDs try going somewhere where the time difference is anything but 6 or 7 hours. There doesn't seem to be a good time of day to chat!

Following our chat I went into town again using the tram this time to walk around town. I purchased some walking shoes, flowers for my room (very Dutch) and a mobile telephone. All things to get me started properly. As I walked around town, I was absolutely struck with the peculiar and unique beauty of Rotterdam. It is indescribable. So many different people, places, ideas, directions, thoughts, transgressions, ugly happenings and beautiful meetings. The above picture is of a bedazzled scooter I saw parked across the way from the shop where I bought my potted plant. As far as scooters go, this particular one was extremely bedecked yet I was blown away by the care and detail that shone through to the individual behind this inanimate object. As the scooter sparkled in the sunlight I truly was struck. Just as the scooter caught my attention so has the unique city of Rotterdam.

Flatmates...The Unsung Heroes of Ethnographic Fieldwork

I have arrived in Rotterdam! Much to my body's chagrin...all travel and no sleep makes Ms. Long a loopy girl. (Jack said it better but hell, I'm tired)

After tying myself up in knots for the better part of two weeks I've finally flown the coop and ended up at my destination. I spent 6 hours and 59 minutes sitting in a cramped A-310 Air Transat flight next to some very lovely husband-wife couple, who were Dutch-Canadians. Their life stories included the husband Tom, who had just been sprung from a two and a half month hospital stay, who recently walked home with a new metal hip for all his trouble. I learned about their foray into providing a group home for young boys/men (apparently for financial reasons although that wouldn't be the first thing that comes to my mind). Accordingly I also learned about two of their residents, both in prison only one on death row. They sweetly reminisced about how one of the boys originally came to them as a 12-year-old male prostitute in downtown toronto and unfortunately had not ended up much better off (currently awaiting transfer to the Kingston penitentiary because his status as a sex offender was leaked to the general population). The another mentionable, was a young man who is currently sitting on death row for his 22nd year (or something close) in Alabama. 'This man is alright' my Dutch companion said "he's found Jesus. When we visit him I have to take off my bra and show them that I have nothing in the underwire of my bra. We get into this underground room where we meet our 'boy' and there we pray and sing with him, he likes to say grace over the only food we're really allowed down there, potato chips." I'm thinking, who is looking at this sweet bird-like lady, 77 years old in skin, eyes, movement and intentions and thinking...maybe she's got a shive in there somewhere...

Anyway, I arrived, claimed all 35 kgs of my luggage and wheel (and warbbled) over to the train. Catching the train was relatively easy minus a few brief heart attacks when I suddenly thought that I wasn't going in the right direction. Having showed up in Rotterdam Centraal (Station) I proceeded to wait for 1 hour for my roommate P. (P-dot) came to pick me up.

P. doesn't know me from a hole in the wall. I found his want ad for a roommate on an Americanized or rather Canadianized website (justlanded.ca) entitled PhD/exchange student. I thought...well of course, that's me. Anyway, Paulo came to the station to pick me up, helped me buy a tram card (I still have to figure out if it's good for other things as well), lifted my huge-ass suitcase into and out of the tram and MOST importantly up the 4 flights of stairs to the flat. The man is a saint. After a brief tea, he was off for the day, but not before showing me my spotless room (a room that use to be his but which he has acquiesced), and a tour of the 3 bedroom flat. It's more than I could have hoped for. P. is really very nice. He's already got a bike lined up for me and I'm off to find a cell phone tomorrow. Although I arrived alone here, P. and P.'s apartment has solidified my resolution for being here.

But P. was off for first day duties at the uni so I wrestled with my suitcase, unpacking the many rolled clothes into my newly acquired closet, and setting up my webcam so that I could promptly call QueenB. Although we had technical difficulties it was wonderful to talk to her. I showed her my room, the place, etc. We made another phone date for tomorrow morning. I also phoned my partner when he got up this morning in Canada for work. It was wonderful to see him although his service provider (satellite internet) made our web cameras continually freeze. Funny faces sometimes and really frightening ones at other times. After signing off again (I'm sure saying goodbye will become easier at some point for me) I tried desperately not to have a nap and lost horrendously.

An hour later I was back in action walking down the street to buy groceries. Quite a feat considering that I am not at all comfortable with the language. The man checking me out said he didn't know english and then tried to explain some free movie ticket plan to me. I didn't understand it, he gave up after trying - poor guy, he was really trying to help me, I just wasn't with it I don't think. Left there and came back to my flat which I found after only one wrong turn. That's not bad! But lost the battle to sleep again. As I write this I'm slowing drifting again.

So there is more to tell but it'll have to wait for later.

Slapping on the Shellac

We're down to crunch time and I'm trying to squeeze every last drop of every last day out with my partner before I leave. Only problem is, he's working 10 hours a day and I'm in a million different directions (see previous blogs for slightly boring details). But this isn't how it's suppose to be is it? Shouldn't we be spending our last couple of days, hours, minutes together, gawking into one another eyes, reaffirming our dedication to one another, and telling each other not to worry?

Nope, reality check. We've both got shit to do and places to be. And although I sometimes find it hard to reign in my Disney-infused fantasies of good-bye love stories, made only worse by a fetish for watching Sex in the City reruns, I've realised that these last days do not have to be sparklingly perfect (yes, I know sparkling-ly is not a word but I think it fits here), filled to the brim with just one another. They just have to be.

In fact, my partner is going off to play golf with a couple of his buddies this coming Sunday while I sit in a coffee shop and continue to write "the-paper-that-will-never-end" for my geography course. While he did run his plans by me before he agreed to them, we had already concluded that every moment before I leave doesn't need to be an 'us' moment. And just because I'm leaving doesn't negate the context of our respective situations. My partner left his friends and family behind as well as myself, when he moved up north to find work. Thus, when the opportunity for golf strikes well, he should take it because life came before, and life will go on (outside of my departure). Sidenote: why do I feel like an 80 year old sitting on a veranda in an old spaghetti Western, right now? I'm incredibly cheesy and I love it.

Frankly, we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place if we both weren't independent people, following our own paths. I just think it's hard to find a happy medium in my head at times because I am a female: with feminist ideals; who has a mother who came from a traditional background (in terms of family values and roles); who has an opportunity to research in the Netherlands to complete a PhD; who grew up watching Disney cartoons and reading Sweet Valley High. Now, I'm not sure what that last example had to do with it all but let's just say there are mixed emotions and expectations running through my head concerning how to spend my last days.

So instead of slapping on some shellac to the remaining days that I have, trying to make them shine like glossy Disney-coated memories, I'll choose 'the everyday' because it's seemed to work for us so far. Yeehaw cowboy.

Tripping Up In Going Dutch

In less than a week I will be living in Rotterdam. You'd think at this point I'd be furiously trying to study my Dutch language CDs yet, I haven't touched them in the past week? Why you ask? I've been doing the paper, packing, reading, writing, arithmetic (ha, ha, no seriously), and just spending time with my housemate. While sitting in a fold out chair typing away at my computer last night, I spoke out loud (more to myself than my partner who was laying in the dust and grime of the garage floor, tinkering underneath his latest project car): "I think I've been avoiding my Dutch lessons. What am I friggin' thinking?" To which he replied, "Well, of course you are. You're avoiding anything right now that reminds you too much of the fact that you're leaving soon".

Could this be true? Well obviously there is some truth in this statement. And truthfully, I can't help but feel that there is a vast difference between how I feel now about going off into the great wide yonder for school and how I felt the last time I left Canada for an extended period of time to study in another country (England for my MA). While I can't remember my exact thoughts during the week leading up to my last great adventure across the pond, I can certainly remember picturing myself as a brave adventuress, excited at the thought of embarking on a quest that would change her life forever! Conversely, I'm currently considering taking a daily dose of Gravol just so that I can concentrate on writing my paper and packing and so that I can ignore the nervous squelches of my stomach muscles as they debate (along with my racing mind) all the things I must do before I leave, remember to take with me, and leave to figure out once I get there. Dare I say this is a product of my age? Is travelling and cavorting abroad easier done when you are of a younger age?

My 29-year-old self refuses to believe this last statement. Instead, I will have champagne on my 30th birthday in Rotterdam (on November 30th, no less, hence the champagne) to celebrate not only my birthday but also the vivaciousness of my chosen life path. Everyone should be so lucky and yes, so privileged. To my stomach and nerves I say 'get a grip' (also a favorite saying of my Mother's).

Back to Work!

This is a picture of our view from the back of 'the lodge' out onto the lake. The sunset is a nice time to sit on the porch with a glass of wine and reminisce like I was doing yesterday (in July and August at least because in May and June the mosquitoes are too annoying to allow any sitting out).

If a picture is worth a thousand words then I've already written too much...however, I was out an about in town yesterday because I learned last minute that if you're going to be out of the country for longer than 7 months at a time then you need 'extended health coverage' from OHIP. For all those of you who have left the country previously, this is a relatively new requirement (April 2009) and was only brought to my attention because my other health care provider would not (and still has not!) supply me with their extended coverage for overseas travel until I received OHIP coverage first.

In other news, working on my final paper right now is like cooking with molasses. Everything is sticking to everything else (I read about migration I think about my flight, I think about writing, I come write my blog! Bad Girl!) and coming out slow and syrupy. It seems as though my brain has gone out to lunch and it has taken my powers of concentration and aptitude for writing with it. All I can hope is that they made reservations at a nice restaurant and won't go overboard on the spirits. Anyway...back to work!