Al-turd Heijn

Remember those days when you could visit the supermarket when it really was super? I never thought I would miss schlepping around Sainsburys or Tescos, but those trips seem like a visit to Fortnum & Mason, or Dean & Deluca, compared to the horrors that are endured at Albert Heijn.

First of all, did the people who ran GUM and other Communist department stores in Russia take over at Albert Heijn once the Berlin Wall came down? What's with the queues, food coupons and bread shortages? Or the insistence on trying to sell stuff that is clearly past its sell by date? Not subjectively: it says so on the label.

If you pick up any of the cheese at the deli counters at Albert Heijn, take a close look at the label. 9 times out of 10, its sell-by date has already expired. If you ask the dynamo working behind the counter why they're selling gone-off cheese, they'll first try to insist that it isn't, and that the sell-by date is advisory only. Thank God for EU food-labelling regulations is all I can say. When you object and say "well - I'd prefer some fresh cheese, and I don't plan on savaging it all in one go with 12 doorstep slices of bread, so could I get some that has 3 or 4 days left to run before its expiry date?" the shrugging and head-bowing begins. Back to the Friesian behaviour.

The stuff you want is never there - unless you want super-salty, processed, gloop. Everything is price-led: there is no emphasis on freshness or quality. But who cares when you can buy beefburgers made from donkeys' balls for €0.20?

The most shocking thing, however, is Hamster Week. Have you seen/experienced it? This is the week in which every Dutchie descends trying to scoop up some bargain as deep discounting begins. It's called Hamster Week because - get this - Dutch people like to hoard during this week of cheapness to the extent that it's reminiscent of a hamster's cheeks stuffed, bulging with bounty. Can you imagine that? Who is the marketing executive who came up with this idea? Why does it not stop the Dutchies from flocking to the store? Can you imagine any other nation putting up with this: "Cutomers! We think you're like cheap, greedy, rodents! Come on in!"

Droopy

Another beautiful Summer's Day in Amsterdam! It's warmer in Murmansk (in Siberia) and in Minsk. And yes I did check.

Have you noticed how Dutch people are unable to form a line or queue? That unless they are herded into a specific line formation, they will amble around aimlessly and try to shove their way to the front of any line?

Worst of all, it seems, are older Dutch women. They are not the kindly, matronly women I remember from my youth, but perpetually cross, disappointed-looking women, the corners of whose mouths are permanently downturned from years of scowling, complaining and tanning; with a shock of chemically treated orange hair. Kind of like the cartoon dog, Droopy - remember him?

At any counter or desk, people will mill around, elbows out, jaws jutting. This morning at Centraal Station, I had a spare 40 minutes to kill, so thought I would try to get a cup of coffee-sludge. There were about 11 people bobbing around in front of the counter, in no obvious formation. Just as I was about to get 'served', an extremely angry-looking Dutch woman shouldered me aside and started waving at the person behind the counter, shouting her order. The poor, bewildered server stood there blinking, not sure what to do.

How about saying "Whoa there Droopy! Wait your turn!!" As that's about as likely as a Dutch person offering to stand a round of drinks, I turned to the woman and said "Sorry - I was here before you" and continued to give my order. Her eyes bulged, her chemically treated hair stiffened, her mouth creased ever-further downwards at each side. She shouted again to the server which confused him even more. He stood there, making gargling noises in his throat, mouth agape, looking from one of us to the other. So I turned around to Droopy and said "Listen - I've been waiting here for longer than you. Wait your turn!"

So now I'm the person remonstrating with a stranger in the middle of Centraal Station - what is my world coming to? Droopy scowled and muttered, but backed off and waited her turn. As I was leaving she shouted after me, in Dutch (somewhat pointless, don't you think?). As I glanced back, she was literally shaking her fist at me. I mean, come on! Apart from cartoons, have you ever seen anyone actually shake their fist at someone? If she had a pitchfork, I'm sure she'd have waved that too.

Megalomania

If you get into conversation with a Dutchie, chances are they will bore you rigid with unsolicited insights into how wonderful life in Holland is. They genuinely believe that they're great, and superior to all other nationalities. They claim their 4 key traits, which give them the lead over all other nations on Earth, are their: (1) pragmatism; (2) 'live and let live' approach to others; (3) pursuit of 'coziness' and harmonious work/life balance; and (4) trading prowess.

Scratch one-tenth of a milimetre below the surface, and you'll quickly discover that each of these is a load of rubbish. Let's look at them in turn, starting with pragmatism.

Pragmatism: Dutchies say they are pragmatic. This forms the basis of the Amsterdam Parish Council's decision to permit the drugs n' hookers playground that has made Amsterdam famous. The Dutch say that because people have sex and take drugs, you may as well cater for these activities, rather than drive them underground. Or to put it another way, if it were not legal to buy hookers and hash, people would do it anyway.

Actually, I think this policy is reasonably enlightened. Though I still find the Red Light District and the women who ply their trade there a pretty depressing sight.

What gets me is the triumphant and somewhat patronising invocation of being able to buy a 10 minute hand job and a mouldy joint as evidence of pragmatism. There are so many other issues which could better and more pragmatically be addressed. You can imagine the Parish Council meeting at which the Hash n' Hookers Disneyland was approved:

"Well, the doctors are still using leeches. We've totally messed up the roads and sanitation. Our service industry has gone to pieces. Our racial integration policy is non-existent. But the people can still pick up a hooker and smoke a spliff! Well done everyone! Herrings all round!"

Live and let live: Again, in a patronising and snooty way, Dutch people will tell you they are so wonderfully liberal and tolerant. Live and let live. Right. But if you're black, Muslim or Indonesian, you better be doing your living in the furthest-flung suburbs; don't come into town; and don't apply for a job unless it's in sanitation or catering. Marvelous!

And now, the immigration committee of the Parish Council has decreed that new immigrants must take a course in Dutch 'language' and 'culture'. That's helpful. Forcing an individual to learn a dying language and say "Dooooooooooooooooooooooook!! Oy!! Oy!! YA!! Lekker!!" and learning how to become worskhy and blow off all your responsibilities, become inflexible, and live on a diet of raw meat balls and herrings. Real progress. That's really letting someone live how they want to live.

Coziness: To be cozy is the holy grail for a Dutch person. They explain 'coziness' as some Zen-like, intricate balance between well-being and one's surroundings, where the self can achieve harmony with one's environment, in one big orange aura. Please. It basically means being able sit on your arse doing fuck all.

I think coziness is the most evil of all Dutch traits in that it is directly responsible for the unbelievably crap service and the average Dutchie's ashen-faced terror of change. A Dutch person explained it to me as follows: if you go into a shop/bar/restaurant and the staff are sitting around, filing their nails/reading books/sipping sodas/filling out long-term sick leave applications, you are not to be frustrated or indignant. Rather, you are to pause and admire the cozy working environment they have built up for themselves. Wait your turn and don't antagonise them.

Although I doubt I'll be here to see it, I cannot wait for a tidal wave of reality and competition to come crashing over the Dutch service industry and wash away this pious, self-righteous, bullshit excuse for laziness and indolence.

Trading Prowess: Dutch people will reminisce about the Golden Age - 400 years ago, when their boats set off around the world and came back laden with herrings and syphilis. A true age of enlightenment. The mercantile way of life back then has imbued contemporary Dutchies with a trader's mentality - "how can I make a quick euro with the absolute minimum of effort?" Dutch people are truly proud of this. We've seen it on Queen's Day, when people scrum to sell their unwanted crap to their neighbours. (By the way, has anyone ever seen one, single charity shop in this village?). I have personally experienced it where I have asked Dutch colleagues would they or a friend have a boat they could lend me for a day to go up and down the canals? One was offered to me for €800. I could fly to Tokyo and back for that. Just so mean, stingy and opportunistic. There's no trace of embarrassment in any of this. Disappearing to the toilet when the bill comes; recycling tea-bags; saying "Moo! - I forgot my wallet"; I've experienced them all.

OK so every nation and their people have stuff they need to work on. But in Holland, the problem is worse. Dutch people refuse to acknowledge that things could be better or different. A large part of this is down to their innate hostility to change - "we have a shyshtem!" If there were a collective acknowledgement that their services are seventeenth century and their treatment of certain sections of their society unacceptable, then perhaps they could move on to doing something about it. But no - they're still insistent that their way is the best way and cannot contemplate anything else. Plus, they are unbelievably defensive! They cannot engage in any adult, serious discussion about the shortcomings of their society. The initial response to any criticism is always to try and deflect it with some claptrap about pragmatism or tolerance. Then, once you've demolished that argument in about 10 seconds, the Dutchie will sit, chew the cud and then snap "well why don't you leave then!"

49 Minutes of Madness

11.22 - left apartment

11.25 - arrived at coffee shop; ordered a take-away Americano

11.42 - received Americano in china cup. Reminded server that I had asked for it to go. She said "oh yes - shorry" and poured the coffee down the sink. I said "Errr... you could have just poured it into a paper cup". Cue 10 seconds of Friesian blinking. "Oh yes - shorrry".

11.51 - get coffee in paper cup: leave to sounds of "Doooooooooooooooooooooook!!!!"

11.54 - arrive at lovely Kalverstraat. Running total of: (a) people who have walked into me since I left apartment: 9; and (b) who I've had to walk around as they've stopped to chew the cud and point at something: 21.

11.57 - enter H&M

11.59 - am thrown out of H&M.

The nutjob security guard had followed me downstairs and had screamed at me "you leave it on the counter or shit down!!!"

The exchange continued:

- Me: "I'm sorry, are you talking to me?"

- Nutjob Security Guard: "Yesh - you leave the coffee on counter or you shit down!!!"

- Me: "what's the problem?"

- NSG: "you shpill it on the clothes!!!"

- Me: "No I haven't!"

- NSG "You will shpill it on the clothes. You shit over there and drink it!"

- Me: "Look, relax. I'm not 5, I don't have Parkinson's and I don't have motor neuron disease. Everything's going to be ok, I promise. I've drank coffee and browsed thousands of times; it's never been a problem and I've never spilt a drop."

- NSG: "IT IS NOT POSSSSSSSSSHIBOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!"

-Me: "It's perfectly possible. Watch..." and I took a sip of my coffee and picked up a shirt. "Look - I'll even buy anything that I spill coffee on, ok?"

- NSG: "IT IS NOT POSSSSSSSSSSSSHIBOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!! YOU GET OUT, NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

12.00 - continue up Kalverstraat

12.02 - peep in door of Zara. Ask security guard "will you freak out if I try and bring coffee in here?" Am told "it is not possssshibollll to bring drinks into the store"

12.03 - decide to abandon shopping expedition and get some lunch

12.05 - arrive at sushi bar, order take-out, it's all boxed up and rung up at the till. It's €14.10. I hand over a €50 note.

Surly Sushi Person - "don't you have anything smaller?"

Me - "Sorry, that's all I have on me"

SSP - "Well, I don't have any change"

Me - "Ok - what do you suggest?"

SSP - [stares blankly; chews cud]

Me - "Don't you keep a float of more than €50 in your store?!"

SSP - "You go get change"

Me - "Erm, I'd really appreciate it if you could sort out that part; maybe ask in one of the neighbouring shops?"

SSP - "It is not posssshiboll - you go and ask"

Me - "You know as well as I do that if I go into a store and ask for change that I'll be told it's not possible to get change"

SSP - [shrugs shoulders]

12.11 - arrive back home - no clothes, no lunch.

Miss Amsterdam

As a prelude to the Miss Holland contest, the Parish Council has decided to organise a Miss Mooi Amsterdam regional competition! The prizes are worth so much more than the honour of representing Holland in a misogynistic, anachronistic ritual! The winner is guaranteed 5 unique, money-can't-buy, prizes:

1. Guaranteed delivery of any purchase at De Bijenkorf within the Amsterdam village limits in no less than 7 months!

2. Installation of a fully-functioning telephone connection within 18 months! That works at the same time as the television! Even when it's raining heavily!

3. A doctor who will prescribe you THREE aspirin if one of your limbs is fully severed!

4. An apartment whose basement will not flood with raw sewage after the next Noah's Ark-style downpour!

5. Curtains for the windows in your toilet - now that's fancy!

With prizes like these, as you can imagine, competition is intense. To add a veneer of respectability and modernity to proceedings (or so they say), the Parish Council has decreed that the competition is not to focus solely on appearance. In addition, all entrants must demonstrate a talent or skill that encapsulates what life is like in Amsterdam 2006. The talent or skill must fall within one of 3 approved categories:

1. Home Economics - a.k.a. how to repeat Jesus' miracle of feeding 5,000 Dutchies with only 5 loaves of bread and 2 herrings?!!

2. Congeniality - who can use the toilet the most times without washing their hands? Who can be the rudest and most pig-ignorant? Who can shrug their shoulders the quickest? Who can scream "THAT IS NOT POSSSSSSHIBOLLLLLLLLL!!!!" or "THAT IS NOT MY RESSSSHPONSHINIBBILLLITTTY" the loudest? It's shaping up to be quite a battle!

3. Cultural Awareness - who will not be terrified when shown something 'foreign' or 'not from these parts'? Who can behave in a civilised manner with a member of a different faith? (ie, not the pidgin-Hindu Cult of Moo to which all the contestants will belong). Who will not laugh uproariously at the idea that, in 2006, a golliwog is an acceptable Christmas decoration?

With the Mayor of Minsk returning as a guest judge to add a touch of panache and glamour to proceedings, it truly promises to be an amazing event!

Moo!

Have you ever visited a dairy farm? You may think you haven't, but if you have ever been to a Dutch restaurant, bar, cafe or shop, then you have!

Dutch service-staff exist in some parallel universe in which the operations director is a Friesian cow. I've finally realised that Dutch people belong to some bizarre Hindu sect in which not only are cows sacred, but to adopt their mannerisms and personality is considered holy. This can be the only explanation for the response you get when you ask a Dutch person to do something. They stare, chewing the cud, shifting nervously from foot to foot; docile and unanimated. They frighten very easily and prefer to operate in herds. Although there are always scores of staff in any restaurant, none of them seems to do very much. Multi-tasking or using any form of initiative is completely out of the question. Ask the wrong person to do something and you will be told "that is not my resssssshponsibility!" while they point at another member of the herd, who will then bow their head and look away.

In fact, the Dutch word for "beautiful" is "mooi". Coincidence? I don't think so.

Stationary, unreactive, slow-witted and defenceless. At least you can make a cow into a pair of shoes. Mind you, given how the Dutchies love to tan, you could probably do the same with the average, leatherette klm flight attendant.

A Tale of Two Cities....

...well, one city and a provincial hamlet.

Yesterday, I spent the day in London on business. The contrast between Amsterdam and London was like night and day. On the Holland side, the fun started as soon as I opened my mouth to talk to any Dutchie. I'll fast forward through the I've-just-inhaled-a-helium-balloon, stunned repetitions of "You want to buy a train ticket??!!!!" etc and give you the edited highlights:

1. On boarding the klm plane, my seat was stacked high with newspapers, plus some lists to do with the flight (presumably confidential). When I asked the flight attendant to move them, she shrugged her shoulders and pointed at one of the overhead lockers (Dutch people love pointing). I stood my ground and said "please can you move them" to which the reply was "why can't you do it?". I picked up the stack and held them out towards her. The Dutch schizophrenia quickly emerged as she morphed from cross and aggressive, to Freisian cow docility and simply bowed her head and flopped her arms a bit.

2. On serving coffee, she handed me the cup with the immortal line "here is the coffee - it is not very nice - the toilet is there if you want to pour it away". I replied "errrrr.... okaaaaaay", to which the reply was "this is not Italy".

Was she on crack? Could you imagine if there was an emergency? She would shrug and point at the emergency exit, refuse to open it, then observe that we are not in Kazakhstan (or any other random country). Seriously - there is something fundamentally wrong with these people. I am going to buy an Anthropology book to see if I can get any insights... (once I get to a bookshop in a functioning city, of course).

In London, ironically, I became Dutch! I went into a cafe to get some breakfast (having eschewed the toilet-water coffee and doorstop bread lump on the flight). I was no more than 3 steps into the place when I was greeted sunnily with "Good morning! What can I get you today?". My mouth slackened and my eyes widened. I repeated in a stunned expression - (quite high pitched too) - "what can you get me??!!" I had to focus on pulling myself together and, very deliberately, asked for a coffee. "Certainly" came the reply. 70 seconds later, I was handed a cup of hot, delicious coffee, accompanied by a smile. The server said "you're welcome"; did not shrug her shoulders once; did not break into an impromptu hour-long tai chi routine; and gave me the correct change. It was incredible!

A few hours later, at another restaurant for lunch, menus were smilingly proffered within 2 minutes of our being seated. Questions about the menu were competently answered and recommendations knowledgably offered. No-one needed smelling salts. The food came as ordered, in less than 2 hours, with no trips to the kitchen or begging or pleading. It was a straightforward, adult, exchange of cash for goods and services. God, how I miss that!

Later that day, descending towards Schiphol, the rain clouds were gathering outside my window. I asked the flight attendant if I could have a glass of water and was told "THAT IS NOT POSSSSHIBOLLLLLLLL!!!!"

Twin Towns

The mayor from Minsk is in town. The Amsterdam Parish Council has been scouring the map to look for a town to twin with. The problem is that the town with which Amsterdam could twin must have a similar set of amenities, cultural values and social structures.

Amsterdam started by aiming high with Venice; I guess by figuring that with all the canals in both places, Venice would seem a natural candidate. Unfortunately, the Parish Council made a few elementary errors and flew the Venetian mayor in on klm, then took him out for dinner. He made his excuses and left early.

More sober and realistic candidates were then wooed, but Swindon, Leicester, Hull and Monrovia all declined. So, in a back to basics approach, a computer model was written into which all of Amsterdam's attributes were inputted: (1) lousy service; (2) rude, hostile locals, terrified of change and resistant to 'outsiders'; (3) severe delusions of grandeur; (4) terrible restaurants; (5) no shopping options other than pile 'em high, sell 'em cheap joints; (6) no medical infrastructure; (7) appalling weather; (8) boring, repetitive, predictable nightlife; (9) and a general, all-pervading attitude of imbecilic ineptitiude, neatly encapsulated in the village motto "THAT IS NOT POSHHHIBOLLLLL!!!".

Things seemed to be looking up when London emerged as a possible candidate. But on closer inspection, it was revealed that this was London 1666 - just after the Great Fire, and at the height of the Bubonic Plague.

The mayor of Minsk finally came to the rescue! Both cities have a love of bowling alleys and caravanning, and whilst Amsterdam still has some way to go in catching up on the restaurant, nightlife and shopping scene, the locals are keeping their fingers crossed! In Amsterdam, obviously.

Faux Pas

Now I've been living in Amsterdam for a while, I have some insight into how Dutch society operates. If helpful, I can pass on some tips to you to stop you from making a faux pas, and embarrassing yourself in Dutch society.

The rules are relatively simple, and are more or less variations on societal manners around the world. For example, in China, it is considered polite to refuse a gift or hospitality at least 3 times before accepting it, lest you appear greedy. In Japan, it is considered rude to re-fill your own glass first in company. In India, it is considered rude to offer or receive food with your left hand. In Thailand, it's unacceptable to point your feet at someone. And so on.

In Holland, a simple rule of thumb is "what's the rudest and most ignorant thing I could do in the circumstances?" Whatever answer pops into your head, no matter how revolting or socially unacceptable where you come from, chances are it will work perfectly in Holland and prevent you from standing out as someone with poor manners. This is the town which has open-air, public urinals on most street corners, after all.

So, some pointers:

1. When offering a gift in a meeting or business context, you will get as far as saying "as a token of appreciation, we have brought with us some examples of..." before the Dutch person will shout "YA! Lekker!" and climb across the table to grab the gift out of your hands.

2. In a communal social setting, where food and drinks are being consumed, it is considered polite for the non-Dutch person in the company to pay for everything. All food and all drinks. And taxis home. For everyone.

3. On your birthday, every Dutch person you know will remind you that it is a "Dutch tradition" that you buy lunch for everyone. Go to your office canteen and see hundreds of people, most of whom you've never seen before, wait expectantly by the cash register with trays piled high with raw meat balls and herrings.

4. When attempting to purchase something in a store, smile benignly as a Dutch person elbows you in the ribs and tries to push you out of the way. Even - perhaps especially - if the person in question works there.

5. Do not take offence when Dutch people never, ever, ever wash their hands after using the toilet. Especially those involved in the catering and food preparation business.

6. If you invite a Dutch person into your home, do not embarrass yourself and object when they conduct a detailed search and inventory of your possessions; ask how much everything you own costs; ask how much you earn; and hint at how nice that picture/vase/flat screen tv would look in their flat.

7. Do not expect a return invitation to the Dutch person's home. You will be informed in lofty tones that it is very rare for a foreigner to be invited into the inner sanctum of Dutch family life, as if it were some great honour. Please. Walk down any street and you can see straight into any Dutchie's toilet as they're too cheap to buy curtains.

Dinner Date

Have you been out for dinner in Amsterdam yet? Let me help you negotiate your way through the options. Where's the best Thai or Indian?; the best for romance?; the best for people-watching?; the best sushi? etc.

No - that's not what I meant. In Amsterdam, the advice is more about the people with whom you should dine. Don't go for dinner with anyone who (1) is hungry; (2) has an appointment in the next 48 hours; (3) considers eating out to be a pleasure, as opposed to a means of filling a herring-sized hole in their stomach; (4) has any form of customer service expectations; or (5) you want to see or hear from again.

The Amsterdam restaurant scene is the apogee of all the Dutch service issues I've identified. Moronic and shambolic in terms of service and quality, at all levels. Even the UN Secretary-General's skills of diplomacy and persuasion could not get him a dinner on time, per his order, accompanied by the most rudimentary form of service.

A typical dining out experience goes something like this:

20.00 - 20.10 - arrive at appointed hour at restaurant. Stand there aimlessly while you're ignored.

20.10 - 20.20 - physically accost someone you suspect of working in the restaurant and explain that you have a reservation. Watch as their mouth slackens and their eyes widen. Re-affirm at least 3 times their panicked, high-pitched and stunned repetition of what you've been saying: "Yes, we have a reservation." "Yes it's at this restaurant." "Yes it's for tonight."

20.20 - go to table while the person you've been dealing with is taken out back to be talked down by a pscyhologist over the traumatic experience they've just experienced.

20.20 - 21.00 - Sit and be ignored. Occasionally, staff will pass by, but if you ask them anything, depending on their personality, they will either (1) adopt an expression like a docile Friesian cow and bow their head; or (2) scream "IN A MINUTE - I AM VERY BISSSSSSSHY!!!", as they go to recline on a chaise longue and eat herrings.

21.00 - Risk wrath of nutjob proprietor and get up and get menus yourself

21.01 - You've made your decision: it's going to be something to do with herrings and/or potatoes and/or cheese.

21.01 - 22.00 - beg and plead with someone to come and take your order. Eventually, pin 3 or 4 €50 notes to the menu as a signal you're ready to do business.

22.00 - a server appears, with a back up unit of psychotherapist, hypnotist and specialist in post-traumatic stress disorder. At this stage, you can hope for the best, adopt the Friesian cow docility, and point at what you want on the menu. The reckless or inexperienced will ask something like "what do you recommend?" or "are there any specials?" The truly insane will ask something like "Is it possible to have the dressing on the side?" Asking any Dutch service person a question which commences with the words "Is it possible....." is lunacy! I can't even be bothered to repeat the answer here for the umpeenth time.

22.01 - try to maintain an air of civility whilst the server explains that no, you can't have what you want; that you can only have what you're given.

22.01 - 23.00 - Be ignored again.

23.00 Get food - it's cold and revolting; not what you asked for (naturally), but nor is it what the server told you you'd be getting.

23.01 - decide maybe it's best to abandon the evening. Now, if I can just get someone's attention to get the bill....

04.00 - leave restaurant

My advice? Go abroad, or eat at home.

Queen's Day

What can you tell about a nation from the way in which it celebrates its national holiday? That the Americans are patriotic with a somewhat irrational belief that theirs is the greatest nation on earth? That the Irish like to drink and wear green clothes? That the French shrug their shoulders a lot and like to go on strike?

And the Dutch? That they are unimaginative cheapskates, with no limits on the depths to which they will descend in the pursuit of earning a quick euro? Depressingly, and predictably, the answer has to be a resounding 'yes'.

In the run up to my first Queen's Day, people in my office were speaking about it in quick, breathy cadences; as if it were the best day ever! A real knock-out! Never one to miss a day of fun and festivity, I decided it would be good to stay in town that weekend and experience the very best that the Dutch had to offer. About a week before the day itself, strange markings in chalk and masking tape began to appear on the pavements around the town. On enquiry, it was revealed that these were to enable people to 'stake their pitch' for them to set up a stall to sell all the old crap from their basement that they hadn't managed to sell the previous Queen's Day.

I was still relatively green and new to Amsterdam at this time (back in April), so I kind of figured "oh - that sounds pretty gross; hopefully, these losers won't dominate the day." How naive and stupid of me....

I awoke to a sea of orange. Any shitbit, no matter how crappy or dirty, was hauled out to be hawked on the streets. The Dutchies milled around, high on the excitement of buying a stained set of dentures for €1! Parents painted their children orange and invited you to take their photo for €5. Isn't that illegal? Dogs and cats had an orange bit of sock tied around their necks: again, in the attempt to solicit a photo opportunity for €5. Smelly herring sandwiches were made in peoples' kitchens and fired out of windows on to the street - yours for only €3! (salmonella included for free).

Businesses got in on the act too. All prices and timings doubled for the day. So your cup of coffee-sludge took 80 minutes and cost €6. The best bit? If you wanted to use the bathroom in any of these places - even if you were a paying customer and had spent money on herrings or coffee-sludge on the premises, you had to spend €1 to do your business.

At no stage during the day did I see anyone actually buy anything from any of the stalls. At around 5pm, the Dutchies threw out a bunch of crap which they finally had to acknowledge even they couldn't sell to their countrymen (used dildos, leftovers from last night's herring curry, books on etiquette). Cue a feeding frenzy. I personally witnessed at least 6 or 7 people rifling through garbage and making off with swag bags of crap. These people were not hobos: they were regular, middle-class Dutchies, intoxicated by the prospect of retrieving someone's grandmother's nylon nightie from a bag of trash - FOR FREE!!!

Walkies!

What would Charles Darwin say if he had to walk from Centraal Station to Dam Square in under half an hour? My guess is "well - that theory of evolution stuff turned out to be a bunch of crap". The Dutch seem to suffer from arrested development. The evidence is abundant: language, clothes, hairstyles, food. But the most obvious area of shortcoming is in movement; specifically, walking.

Here's a challenge. Try to walk 10 blocks in Amsterdam either (1) with fewer than 20 people walking into you; or (2) in under half an hour. To paraphrase many a Dutch person - "that is not posssshiboll!!" Dutch people have absolutely no sense of personal space, or spatial awareness. They will amble straight into you, meandering, plodding. Or else they will walk in nano-steps directly in front of you, verrrrry, verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry, sloooooooooooooooooooooowly.

Some Dutchies say this is a function of how crowded Amsterdam is. They speak about the city as if it were a pulsating metropolis, like Lower Manhattan or Kowloon. Look - it's a town of around 700,000 people, like Swindon or Leicester. Just with canals. But with fewer shops, fewer amenities and fewer restaurants.

Contrast this lackadaisical approach to walking with cycling and the torrent of self-righteous bell-ringing that awaits you if you even look at a cycle path, even if the aggrieved cyclist is still 100 metres away. They can't even get cycling right, which is something the Dutch boast they're good at. Everyone knows it's popular only because they're too cheap to buy cars.

Now I'm a Doctor

I've decided to set up practice as a doctor in Holland! It's so easy! I took a piece of cardboard and scrawled 'DOKTER' on it in bright orange crayon. I've put the cardboard in the window, and I'm good to go!

No need to study medicine or take any professional qualifications. Basically, you just need to have a rude and surly disposition; shrug your shoulders a lot when patients come to visit you; refuse to prescribe them anything; refuse to do anything constructive whatsoever; then send them a big bill.

Some examples:

1. I've broken various bones in my right foot 4 times in the last 8 years. I thought I'd done it again, in my big toe, when I had been trying to kick a door open (don't ask). I limped into Casualty at Onze Lieve Vrouwe Gasthuis. After waiting for one and a half hours in a squalid waiting room, a bored and surly 'doctor' arrived; looked at my toe; confirmed that it hurt; said it could be broken, or that it could not be; shrugged her shoulders; refused to give me an x-ray; refused to perform any other kind of test or examination; disappeared; and sent me a bill for €400.

2. I was on holiday with my partner recently. He got nasty food poisoning/stomach bug. Then so did I. A week of vomiting and diarrhoea ensued. I was in London on business and went to see my doctor. He gave me a prescription, no problem: my bug cleared up overnight. My partner went to the doctor in Amsterdam and explained the situation. He was told that he could not have any medication and that it was perfectly normal in Holland for people to have diarrhoea for a month and then for it to go away. He said the fact that the pills my doctor in London had given me had cured the bug was probably a coincidence. He told my partner to go away and find another doctor if he insisted on getting medicine.

3. Fast forward 3 days. My partner is in serious pain and his stomach is swollen up; he's vomiting and has diarrhoea. I call the Dutch after-hours medical helpline. I explain all the symptoms. They tell me to hold on and they'll call back. After 20 minutes, I get a call. "Does he have a fever?" No. They say they'll call back again. Another 10 minutes. "Has he been in the tropics?" No. A long pause. "He should see a doctor."

I promise I'm not making this up.

So if you're feeling ill or have been involved in an accident, feel free to drop by my surgery. I'll ignore you for a couple of hours; then shrug my shoulders; then tell you that you might be ill/dying or you might not be; refuse to provide you with any medication, care or assistance; shrug my shoulders again; then ask you for €400. What's not to like?

Please also bear in mind that it is not possible to book an appointment on less than 6 weeks' notice and that I may not be available even if you have an appointment. Or at all.

My Brilliant Career

Remember when you were a kid, and adults used to ask you "what do you want to be when you grow up?" And you'd say stuff like 'train driver', or 'fireman', or 'nurse'?

Ask a Dutch child and they will say, very determinedly, "on long term benefit - just like Mummy and Daddy".

Up to 75% of the Dutch workforce is on sick leave or long term benefit at any one time. OK - so it's probably a bit less than that; but it is the highest proportion of the workforce in any industrialised nation. I could understand it if Dutch people were particularly hard-working, or dedicated, or vigorous in their pursuit of professional excellence. But they're not. Far from it.

The typical Dutch work day goes something like:

10 am - arrive late
10 - 10.30 - get coffee (only if free from machine)
10.30 - 11.00 - shout "Dooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooook!!!! Oy! Oy!" randomly
11.00 - 15.00 - lunch (raw herring, raw meat balls and 7 slices of bread)
15.00 - 16.00 - complain about how stressed you are; request forms for long term sick leave from your HR department
16.00 - leave early

If you are working in a consumer-facing role, where you are supposed to deal with members of the public, your day is not as hectic in that it just consists of 1 step: shrug shoulders and repeat, over and over "that is not possible".

Tolerant?

Did I mention I'm from an ethnic minority? Maybe that explains the hostility and appalling service? Just kidding. About being from an ethnic minority, not about how that could explain Dutch people's behaviour.

Legend has it that Dutch people are liberal and tolerant. I just don't see it. Amsterdam is a small, provincial town that is racially segregated. I work for a company that has around 2,000 employees at its corporate headquarters in Amsterdam. Except for secretarial, catering or janitorial staff, there are NO employees from an ethnic minoirty that I have seen. None. Not one. Of the 200 or so senior managers and executives at the company, maybe 4 or 5 are women and, of course, they are all white.

I am by no means qualified to talk about this issue definitively; I can only tell you what I see and what I experience. But I see Dutch people treat ethnic minorities and tourists very poorly when, in the same circumstances, they treat their countrymen a lot better. From the mundane - at the supermarket, to the more serious - access to healthcare in casualty units at hospitals, Dutch people consistently prefer their own and treat people differently, in the same circumstances, depending on their ethnicity or nationality (or the Dutch person's perception of their ethnicity or nationality). I have been told to "fuck off back to where you come from" more than once by a wild-eyed Dutch person, furious at my mere presence in the city. I have never experienced that anywhere else in the world. I have seen a Turkish family have to wait with a sick child in Casualty at Onze Lieve Vrouwe Gasthuis hospital for much longer than a Dutch family had to wait with theirs. Perhaps there was something more seriously wrong with the Dutch child, though that did not appear to be the case to my (admittedly non-qualified) eyes. I have seen a surly check out girl shout at Japanese tourists at Albert Heijn because they weren't aware that they needed to purchase carrier bags (that initiative didn't make the news in Tokyo), while smilingly offering a bag to the Dutch customer who was next in line. I have been accused of taking a Dutch person's job and of taking a Dutch person's home. The siege mentality is palpable and not pleasant. Of course, you always get a few morons in any town who do not like "outsiders", but to my amazement and distress, it seems to be a lot more prevalent in Amsterdam.

Take my downstairs neighbour. I reckon she's about 50 and works as a translator. White, middle class, educated. On my way out the other day, she warned me in the hallway to be beware of the "dark man" who was frequenting one of the apartments next door. When I asked why, she said "because he is probably a drug dealer", without batting an eyelid.

Nutjob Records

It's Sunday afternoon. I was out walking. I was feeling a bit guilty about this blog, thinking maybe I was being a bit too harsh on the Dutch. Ah, the irony....

I passed a second hand record store and decided to go in and browse. I'm 34 years old. Let's say I've been independently, economically active for about 18 years and that, on average, I'm in a shop or other retail outlet 6 times a day. That's 2,190 times a year. Or 39,420 times in the past 18 years. For the first time in those nearly 40,000 visits, today I was thrown out of a shop.

My crime? Well, rashly, I had decided to browse for records in the er... record shop. Over about 25 minutes, I picked out 5 records and took them to the turntable to listen; standard practice for the scores of vinyl stores I've been in all over the world. I even checked the sign written on the turntable: "no more than 5 records per customer" and decided things should be ok. I put on the headphones and began to listen...

It was when I was listening to the second record that the owner appeared at my shoulder, purple-faced with rage, the veins in his forhead bulging. He shouted something at me in Dutch. I said "Sorry - I don't speak Dutch. Is there a problem?"

Nutjob: "GET OUT!!! GET OUT!! YOU ASK FIRST!!!!!"

Me: "Excuse me? Sorry - I wanted to listen to the records to make sure they're ok and not scratched before buyin..."

Nutjob: "IT IS NOT POSSSSSSSSSSHIBOLLLLLL!!! GET OUT!!!!!!!!"

With that, he snatched all the records off me and pointed to the door, his eyes bulging and flecks of spittle forming in the corners of his mouth. There were 2 other customers in the shop, both English, who were just looking on in disbelief. They exited immediately after me.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Ah, lovely klm and, more particularly, the lovely people who work for klm. Have you ever flown with them? Have you joined their frequent flyer programme, Flying Blue? You will be.

I think I may have found the reason why the average Dutch person is so slack-jawed in a customer service situation. It's from years of experiencing klm's customer service. You literally just have to sit there, mouth agape, wondering if what you've just witnessed has really happened?

Here are just a few of the things I have witnessed/experienced whilst dealing with this airline. I promise they're all true.

1. On a flight 2 days ago, an elderly woman fell into the aisle, coming out of the bathroom, dropping her medication on the floor. The klm flight attendant watched her scrabbling on the floor, sighed, then stepped over her as she was crouching, trying to find her pills. Had I not been looking, I'm sure she'd have kicked her for good measure.

2. Go on an early morning flight from Amsterdam to London. The grumpy flight attendants will fling sandwiches at you. If you ask for them to be heated, they will look at you in complete and utter astonishment, as if you're from Mars, and scream "It's not possssssssssssssssshibol!!!!!!" Wait 5 minutes. Go to the galley. Watch as a gaggle of flight attendants wolf down as many sandwiches from the microwave as they can in the remaining flight time.

3. Trying to board a flight to Damascus a couple of weeks ago, a woman passenger, with a crying infant, politely asked one of the 6 klm staff at the gate - each of whom was doing nothing - if she could go through to the gate area to sit down and tend to her child. The klm staffer shrugged her shoulders, took a sip from her soda, and said "what do you want me to do about it?". When the same woman passenger politely repeated her request 5 minutes later, the klm staffer screamed "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? WHY ARE YOU SO RUDE? ARE YOU ALWAYS THIS RUDE? IT IS THE HOLIDAY SEASON. GET USED TO IT."

4. I approached a klm service area at Schiphol. There were 23 staff. I wanted one of them to add my frequent flyer information to my reservation. I waited at the designated point. And waited. The reason I know that there were 23 staff was because I had the time to count all of them whilst waiting. Twice. Having been ignored, I went to the nearest one and asked, politely "Please could you check if my frequent flyer number is included with my reservation". She didn't look at me, only at her colleague, to whom she rolled her eyes. She tapped some numbers on a keyboard and, still without making eye contact, said "it's there" and threw my frequent flyer card across the counter towards me. When I complimented her on her courteous and professional service, she finally decided to make eye contact with me, turning towards me and screaming "YOU CANNOT TALK TO ME LIKE THAT. WHO ARE YOU? YOU CANNOT SPEAK".

5. My flight to London was cancelled. With a heavy heart, I approached the klm 'service' area. My first question was "do you know why the flight has been cancelled?". Customarily, the klm staffer looked at me as if, instead, I had asked "can you split an atom in front of me and become fluent in Japanese in 10 seconds?" She didn't know why. I explained I needed to get to a meeting; please could she transfer me to BA, or bmi, or even Easyjet? "THAT IS NOT POSSSSSSSSHIBOLL!!! I DON'T DO THAT FOR ANYONE!!!! WHY SHOULD I DO IT FOR YOU??? WHY ARE YOU SPECIAL?????"

I could go on, but it's exhausting. Do yourself a favour. There are plenty of other airlines flying in and out of Schiphol. Fly on any other one of them. It will be half the price, not cancelled, not delayed and you won't be screamed at by some leatherette hag.

Grandpa's Dick

Dutch weather is almost tropical, in that it has 2 monotonous seasons: Winter and Deep Winter. Deep Winter runs from August to mid July. In Winter, when the temperature gets above 3 degrees, the country is transformed. Go to any street or park and you will see life turned inside out: the Dutch love to share their private life with you. Families will bring their furniture out onto the street and enjoy their herring feasts in a communal environment. Sofas, tables, chairs, you name it are strewn across public footpads and roads as the Dutchies revel in the balmy atmosphere. Things heat up in parks, and the higher you ascend in towns. Go to any urban terrace in Winter and you're guaranteed to see at least 5 or 6 Grandpa's Dicks. Naked, elderly people potter about quite happily. Windows are left open all night, with no curtains, and the lights on. Especially in bathrooms and toilets. Get to know your neighbor's. Intimately. It's not like you have any choice in the matter.

Holiday Time

Where did you grow up? If it's anywhere within 10 hours driving of Holland, it's likely that you encountered enormous convoys of Dutch camper vans marauding through the countryside during the Summer. Dutch people are different when it comes to taking holidays. The key aim of a holiday is to spend as little as possible. No possible economy is overlooked. Fripperies such as airplane flights, taxis, hotels, restaurants, shops and showers are scorned. Instead, a van is packed up with (1) a tent; (2) 7 herring sandwiches for every adult for every day of the holiday; (3) copies of whatever paper could be retrieved from the local recycling bin (this will function as reading material, toilet paper, make up remover and insulation); (4) an empty bottle of Spa Blauw (to refill at canals and rivers); and (5) an ancient, disposable barbecue which Dutch people will use to cook any non-herring food scraps they find along the way.

Under no circumstances will a Dutch person vary from this routine. The consequences for them are unimaginable. Ask your local tourist office representative.

I'm Just Popping Out To The Bank.....

.....see you in about 17 hours....

Dutch banks are very strange. There is only 1 ATM for about every 3,000,000 people. Dutch people mourn the passing of the coin ATM, when they could withdraw €1 at a time. So now, even assuming you can ever find 1 of the 6 ATMs in Holland that's working, the queue of people is always incredibly long. There are a number of reasons for this. The principal ones are:

1. The average time spent at the ATM is 43.7 minutes. It's hard for a Dutch person to press the "Accept" button which will result in him spending money, so all forms of evasive and delaying activity are undertaken in the vain hope that the inevitable will be postponed.

2. There is a social convention that you cannot stand within half a mile of the person using the ATM (though anything goes in the queue itself). If you go anywhere near a Dutch person using an ATM, they will turn around and snarl at you. Suppose you've recently arrived from London or New York, or even Muroroa Atoll in the South Pacific, anywhere that's more dynamic really - you have to remember that there is a system. You cannot ask a Dutch person to hurry up, or if they're in a catatonic coma, even after about 25 minutes. You need to wait the full 43.7 minutes. Words will not help you.

3. Having withdrawn the €5 (the minimum amount), the Dutch person is keen to get into the bank itself to re-lodge the extra €4 that they don't need until next month and which they've unreasonably been forced to withdraw. This can result in chaotic scenes as the 2 queues intermingle outside the bank - people trying to use the ATM, and people trying to re-deposit their money. Lots of people shout "Doooooooook! Oy! Oy!" nervously at each other until the crowds eventually subside, at around 4pm.

Insider Tip! Consider postponing your trip to the bank to around 4pm. That's when Febo - the Dutch self-service burger bar has a "3 herring for 1" special and so many Dutch stampede to their nearest outlet. Obviously - you should avoid Febo around these times.

Lekker!

Dutch only consists of about 14 words. These are all made up of about 5 or 6 basic sounds, which you can re-arrange in any order, at any time, to mean anything you want. The main point of Dutch is to convey to the listener that (1) no - you can't have what you asked for; (2) no, I'm not paying; or (3) is there a special deal or discount?

Useful phrases include:

- Dooooooooook!! Oy! Oy! - this is, essentially, gibberish. Dutch people say it to each other all of the time. No-one knows what it means. Dutch people are too afraid to fess up and ask what it means in case it involves them having to pay someone something.

- Nee - you will hear this anytime you ask a Dutch person to do anything (other than accept money, or a discount, or a sick day off work).

- YA! - this is the enthusiastic response to any of the above 3 exceptions to 'Nee'

- Lekker! - this single word constitutes about 60% of the Dutch vocabulary. Dutch people say it all of the time to indicate a range of emotions from mild approbation to wanton ecstasy.

- Austublieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeft! - this single word makes up about another 30% of the Dutch vocabulary and Dutch people use it when they are giving something - other than money - to another person (that's accompanied by the sound of gnashing teeth). Like 'Doooooook!! Oy! Oy!', it is more or less meaningless, but Dutch people will repeat it to each other over and over.

So at the "We Serve Coffee" shop, you may observe the following exchange:

- Coffee Server: (handing over cup of sludge, 40 minutes after you asked for it): "Austublieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeft!!!! Dooooooooooooooooooooooooook!!!!!"

- Customer: "YA! Lekker!!! Oy! Oy!!"

- Coffee Server: "Doooooooooooook!! Austublieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeft!!! Oy! Oy!"

- Customer: "Oy! YA! Lekker! Austublieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeft!! Doooooooooook!! Oy!!!!"

You're now fluent in Dutch.

Just Give Me The Coffee!!

I'm not a huge fan of Starbucks, but they could crush the Dutch coffee scene in ... oh, about 10 seconds. Getting coffee here is the most stressful thing in the world. It involves 3 distinct phases, each of which is designed to stress you out. Cumulatively, the effect is guaranteed to drive you bananas!!!

First, you have to get through that Dutch incredulity. No matter what you ask a Dutch person, they stand there, slack-jawed, eyeing you nervously and suspiciously. In response, all they EVER do, is repeat what it is you've asked them in an incredulous, high-pitched tone of bewilderment and astonishment.

So it goes something like this. You go into a coffee house called "We serve coffee". There's coffee everywhere - pictures of it, bags of beans, grounds, the works. A Dutch person is standing behind the counter, eyeing you nervously, hoping you won't speak to them. They're wearing a badge which reads "I serve coffee" and are standing under a sign which advises "Get your coffee here". You approach them and say "hello - please may I have a coffee?". They look at you, eyes wide, mouth slack, their expression a mix of panic and disbelief. "You want to buy a coffee???!!!!!!!!" - complete and utter astonishment! "Er - yes, please". "You want to buy it here??!!!!!" "Emm.... yes" "Oh, okay, wait".

Then begins phase 2 - the Tai Chi Hustle. No matter where you are in Holland, no matter how many or how few people are waiting, Dutch people move at a a verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry sloooooooooooooooooooooooooow paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaace. This goes for walking, or any form of movement really and - especially - when paying for things and taking money out of ATMs. So, in the middle of Centraal Station in Amsterdam during 'rush' hour, once you have finally convinced the "I serve coffee" person to serve you coffee, they then start doing an elaborate tai chi routine whereby they slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowly pick up a cup. Turn. Contemplate. Look for the coffee. Observe it. Approach it. Pick up the coffee. You get the picture. 20 minutes later, you've missed your train and you're still about another 20 minutes away from getting your coffee.

The third and final phase is - finally - delivery of the coffee. It's invariably revolting. The Dutch are - how do I put this? - pennywise. Keen to save a few cents here and there. A bit stingy. Unbelievably cheap. (The phrase "Let's Go Dutch" didn't originate by accident). This goes for both buyer and seller. So, invariably, the coffee you are served will have been made from grounds that have been used 5 or 6 times before, combined with burnt scrapings from the machine and God knows what else.

So - after much pleading, persuasion and cajoling, you'll get thrown a cup of warm sludge after about 40 minutes and having missed your train. Another wonderful Dutch experience!

Living in Holland

After finally being driven crazy by life in Holland - in particular, dealing with Dutch attitudes to service and convenience - I've decided to purge via this blog. The Dutch drive me crazy. They cling to this notion that they're relaxed, liberal and maverick. Er.... no, they're just backward, limited and scared witless of any form of change. "We have a system" (even though they don't) and "words will not help you" are phrases you will frequently encounter when trying to achieve anything from the mundane - like buying gum - to the incredibly creative and complex - like getting your suit dry cleaned.

So this is a set of stuff about an expat's life in contemporary Holland, having been raised in a more dynamic environment - ie, anywhere outside Holland. Hope you enjoy it. There's no need to worry about Dutch people reading it and taking offence as (a) none of the internet service providers in the country will have figured out how to get them online; and (b) even if they had, no Dutchie would spend the €20 or whatever it is to get online - that would be a whole year's stonewash denim budget.