Fashion Police

Now that the Dutch government has made it official business to dictate what people should and should not be wearing in public, I thought it may be worth considering some other fashion tips which the Dutchies could usefully follow.

Legislating to prevent Muslim women from wearing niqabs on the street or otherwise in public is of debatable propriety. But as this really will only impact up to 40 people in the entire country, aren't there greater and more widespread fashion disasters on which the government could focus, to the betterment of all society?

Forget the Burqa Ban: there are plenty more pressing Dutch Fashion Disasters which require urgent and immediate attention.

1. Polyester Everything

As all clothes stores in Amsterdam Parish are price-led, not fashion-led, there is a perpetual race to the bottom in terms of price: any Dutchie will always, always choose cheap polymix over natural fibre.

Perhaps this explains your average Dutchie's sourness and disappointment with life? Except for olive oil when sunbathing on the beach, your average Dutchie has never felt anything natural next to their skin; just clammy, itchy, scratchy cheapness. It's enough to make anyone grouchy.

2. Granny's Cast-Offs

There's a second hand clothes store on practically every street in Amsterdam but, interestingly, none of these is a charity shop. They are all for-profit stores to which the Dutchies run when Granny pops her clogs (literally), to try to swap her polyester nightie from the 1950s for something equally hideous.

Rail after rail of grotesquerie awaits while the Dutchies mooch around, pondering whether to shell out that €0.75 for their new outfit, or wait till late next Queen's Day when they can hopefully get it for free from the garbage?

3. Wet Perms

A substantial number of Dutch women, and - disturbingly - Dutch men, sport wet perms.

One word: why?

4. Au Natureul

Dutch women, famously, wear less (or no) make up compared with other European women. They see it as some kind of badge of honour. Well the badge ain't pretty honey, so make with the foundation and concealer.

Generally, there is a total lack of care or attention paid to appearance or grooming. No-one makes an effort here. Everyone doesn't need to look immaculate, or wear expensive gear. But it would be nice once in a while to go out and about and see some people who are well put together and not in the Amsterdam uniform of peasant shirt, too-tight polymix jeans and dumb boots.

5. Orangina

I know it's the provincial colour, but surely even the most ardent nationalist should shy away from dying - or burning - their skin orange, from head to toe, on a daily basis?

If you put all of these together, you're faced with quite a sight. In other countries, if the police broadcast an appeal for witnesses to help track down the perpetrator of a crime, a description of someone with 'orange leather skin; wet perm; wearing a third-hand acrylic jumpsuit, and a clueless, vacant expression' would quickly lead police to the suspect's door.

Here, though, it could be millions of people.

Mission Impossible

I'm going out to L.A. next week to pitch my idea for the fourth Mission Impossible movie.

Having foiled nuclear threats, thwarted international terrorism, prevented global catastrophies, and smashed international criminal rings, I think it's time for Tom Cruise to show what he's really made of and try to do something that truly is impossible!

His mission? To get some fucking change out of one of the morons who works at Centraal Station in Amsterdam.

Admittedly, the movie running time of 437 hours might put some punters off.

If you were at Centraal Station this morning between 9.15 and 9.45, you may have witnessed a man screaming and swearing at various employees around the station; tearing at his clothes and hair; and generally gesticulating wildly and scarily. A mental patient? An asylum escapee? No - it was me.

I swear to God, I am going to die before I am 40, the way my blood pressure is going through the roof living here.

What induced this fury? It really is bizarre. If you ask any of my friends or family, they will tell you that I am absolutely not a violent person. Ok, I may be a bit sarcastic, or a smart-arse now and again, but I am normally pretty even-tempered, and certainly have never been involved in a physical fight in my life. Right now, though, I want to headbutt someone. Hard.

All I wanted to do was get €3.60 in change.

First, I went to the Ako newsagent and picked up a paper and some gum. When handing over a €20 note, I said 'please can I get change for the ticket machine from that?' The guy looked in complete and utter astonishment at me: the most amazed I have ever seen anybody look in my entire life. He spluttered at me, struggling to get the words out, as he gasped for oxygen in disbelief - 'but that is not posssshibollllllllllll!!!'

I asked him why not?

Him - 'We need the money for the other customers!!'

Me - 'Right - I am a customer, so can I have some of the money you've been keeping for me?'

Him - 'It is not possssssshibolllllllllll'

Me - [gritting my teeth] 'maybe you could pick up 2 of the 2 euro coins there in front of you and hand them over to me?'

Him - 'It will cosht ush money'

Me - 'Er, noooo, it won't: you owe me the money anyway; I'm just asking you to denominate it slightly differently'

Him - 'It is not possssssshibolllllll - we have to go the bank at the end of the day for change and they charge us'

Me - [exploding] 'Why the fuck is everything so difficult in this complete dump of a country??!'

By this time, a line of about 9 people had formed behind me, so they were all witness to this.

I continued:

Me - 'For fuck's sake - could you just make an exception for once and hand me two 2 euro coins - please??!!'

Him - [smugly] 'It is not poshibolll'

Me - 'Fucking cheapskate loser!'

So off I had to go, muttering under my breath 'fucking ridiculous' as I did the walk of shame past the various people who had gathered to watch my meltdown. I'm sure I must have looked completely bonkers to them, but I was so frustrated, I couldn't help it.

Next, I thought I'd try the ticket office. At Schiphol, in the same circumstances, you can always get change from the ticket office, though you typically have to queue for about 4 hours to get it.

Logically, I picked the shortest queue - the one for International Tickets, as there were about 4,000 people in line for the domestic tickets. I swear, the woman behind the counter was the spitting image of Hilde from SunDaze: that was what was waiting for me at the end of the queue.

A reminder:



So I eventually reach the top of the queue, paused, smiled, and said 'good morning'. She just gave me a filthy look and did not say anything. I took the €20 from my wallet and said 'please can you give me change for this so I can buy a ticket?' Again, she didn't speak, nor make eye contact at me, but merely pointed to another part of the ticket office.

Me - 'Excuse me for repeating myself, but please can you give me change?'

Again, she didn't speak, or look at me, but stood up and turned off the light over her booth to indicate that she was no longer providing customer service. She then turned around in her swivel chair and started chatting in Dutch to her colleague.

I think even her colleague was a bit stunned by this, because she looked at me and for a split second, I thought I saw a flicker of humanity and understanding. So I said to the second lady 'maybe you could help me? I'm just trying to get some change?', to which the first lady, turned, glared at me, and again pointed in a different direction.

Clearly, I wasn't going to get anywhere here, so I had nothing to lose.

So I said to Lady Number 2, pointing at Lady Number 1, 'excuse me, could you call this man's supervisor for me? I'd like to make a complaint'

Lady Number 2 - [astonished] 'she is not a man!!'

Lady Number 1 - [furious; spitting] 'oiiiiii aaaccccccchhhhhh oooooooook' [or something like that, in Dutch]

Me - [shouting at Lady Number 1] - 'I hope you fry on your next sunbed session!'

And then, once again, I turned - without change - and took a long walk of shame past several bewildered, and a few frightened, customers. God forbid some of them were also in the queue at Ako a few minutes before.

I know, I know - you don't need to tell me. But I was boiling mad: I guess it wasn't just those 2 incidents this morning, but the cumulative effect of hitting my head against a brick wall for over a year.

The worst thing? A nervous-looking guy tapped me on the arm and said 'Excuse me - there is a change machine just there', pointing to the corner of the ticket office, in the same direction in which Lady Number 1 had originally pointed. I now realised that I definitely looked like a complete and utter freak: ie, to a casual observer, the only party at fault in all of this was me, not them.

Summoning as much dignity as I could, I went to the machine, got my change and went off to buy my ticket.

I needed to call someone to tell them of my trauma: I wanted to hear someone reassure me that I was not going mentally insane. So I called my partner, whilst waiting for my train on the platform to recount my experiences. As I was telling him the whole story, I got totally wound up all over again, so started shouting down the phone and gesticulating wildly.

At the height of my story, as I was literally waving my hands around like a windmill, I saw the nervous-looking guy who had told me about the change machine on the opposite platform, looking at me. From the expression on his face, it was clear he thought that I required heavy medication.

Home Economics

It's great to be back in Amsterdam Village! Arriving at Schiphol, it was wonderful to see the all-expense-spared Christmas decorations. They really made me feel festive.

But having spent rather a lot of money on my holidays, I think it's time to put some money-saving tips into practice.

Hmmm - maybe I should cut back on eating out at great restaurants; buying nice, contemporary clothes; and trips to interesting theatre and galleries?

Hang on! - I already do none of those things, given that each is non-existent in Amsterdam village!

Fortunately, there are plenty of other ways to save money. Over the past few months, I've been observing my Dutch colleagues go about their business and have gathered several penny-saving tips which should slash my monthly spending budget! After all, I have been lucky to see real masters at work.

1. Receipts Please

One particular colleague (who earns well over €100,000) often becomes anxious to discuss work projects around lunchtime. At first, I thought he was lonely, or socially inept, and simply wanted some company at lunchtime. Wrong. Turns out that, frequently, whenever he lunches with colleagues and discusses work matters - however casual the discussion - he expenses the lunch as a 'business meeting'.

Given that the average cost of lunch in our canteen is around €3, but, apparently, all it takes to elevate a random conversation into a 'business meeting' is to say something like 'Oooooooiiii - I am shtresssshed and am 42 weeksh late on my project!!!', it appears he's onto a winner.

Savings: €3

2. Big Plate, Little Plate

In our office canteen, a big plate of salad is €2 and a little plate of salad is €1. Our lawyer - who easily earns around €70,000 a year - always takes 2 empty plates to the salad bar: 1 big, 1 little.

He places the little plate on top of the big plate. Then, he carefully constructs a salad tower on the little plate, about 1 foot high. Once past the cash register, he upturns the little plate on to the big plate.

Voila! One big plate of salad for the price of a little plate.

Savings: €1

3. The Milky Bars Are On Me!

Three colleagues have only ever bought me a drink whilst we are travelling on business. The first time it happened, I naively assumed that these guys only loosened up once they were away from the confines of Amsterdam village: I had been out several times with each of them before and they had never once offered to pay for anything.

Now, in sharp contrast, they were extremely generous and kept buying round after round of drinks, waving away any suggestions that I contribute.

Gradually, I realised that this was another expenses hustle: the mentality being that anything purchased outside of Holland is free!

How else do you explain the copious consumption of food other than deep fried balls and raw meat, the thought of which would cause terror back on Dutch swampland?

It is not unusual to see these guys stock up on about €100 worth of cigarettes, food, drink and other consumables which they can expense, thus saving the corresponding amount in Holland.

Savings: €100

4. Soft and Gentle

I caught a guy red-handed taking toilet paper from the toilets in our office.

I say red-handed, as if this connotes some sense of shame or embarrassment on his part at being intercepted stealing bogroll, but on the contrary, he seemed quite proud of his entreprise.

I asked him 'have you spilt something in your office?', to which came the memorable reply 'this is shofter than the one at home', as he walked out of the toilet with his bounty, making no effort to conceal it.

Saving: €2

5. Business Holiday

Except for domestic camper van extravaganzas, almost everyone in my team has taken their holidays on the side of a business trip. This way, they get their flights there and back for free.

Unfortunately, little of our business is done in attractive coastal resorts, or culturally-rich centres, so 2 week holidays in Bratislava or Minsk are not uncommon amongst my colleagues.

Saving: €150

6. Sock it to 'em!

On the dreary commute to work from Amsterdam village to the windswept, soulless business park where we work, I have frequently observed a director-level woman from the marketing department darning a pair of socks on the train. Isn't life too short?

I have no idea what this woman earns, but I reckon it's enough so she wouldn't feel the pinch of shelling out €3 for a sock multipack at Hema once in a while.

Savings: €3

Total Savings: €256

Screw the economising! With €256 burning a hole in my pocket in Amsterdam, there's no end to the fun I can have!

I'm off for a cocktail on the Botel and a slap-up feed at Febo!

Dooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooook!!!

Come Back Soon!

Doooooooooooooooook!! It ish mee!! Hilde from SunDaze!! Yesh - go ahead and stare, I am used to it! I know I am a sheckshee lady!

Just to let you know that the man who does the blog is on holidays for a couple of weeksh! But be shure to come back on 21 November for the nexsht epissshode!

Doooooooooooooook!! Oy!! Oy!! Austublieeeeeeeeeeeft!!!