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!