words will not help you

Universal Theory of Everything

2006-12-13T15:11:00.000+02:00

Over the past 4 months, as I've bitched and purged on this blog, I've had time to reflect on what it is that makes living in Holland - and dealing with Dutch people - so crucifyingly and unredeemingly awful. I've obsessed over various issues and behaviours, trying to make sense of it all. Little did I suspect that there could be one unifying theory that could unite all of Holland's and the Dutchies' shortcomings in one, simple equation?

But I think I've come up with the answer.

Lack of confidence.

It doesn't seem profound or particularly insightful - but when you examine things a bit more closely, you can see that the one constant in all Dutchies' behaviour stems from a deap-seated lack of confidence.

Certainly, there are many causes for and effects of this situation. But the constant throughout is the innate absence of self-belief and confidence.

You don't believe me? Think of the things in your life that you're not confident about. Driving; anything to do with science, electricity or numbers; your ability to control your drinking at an office party and calling your boss by his secret nickname? Or are they just my issues?

Anyhow, think of your behaviour when you're confronted with someone, or a situation, with which you're not confident. Are you at your wittiest? Your friendliest? Your most magnanimous or charming? Typically, no. Instead, you run between aggressive ("that is not poshibolll"), or silent (shrug shoulders, or point), or trying evasive action ("that will take too much time"), or trying to avoid the situation completely ("that ish not my ressshponnshibility!!").

And think of the things that make you feel not confident. A lack of knowledge or familiarty; feelings of inadequacy; previous disappointments in life. Given the state of Dutch educational standards; the provincialism; the lack of interest in learning or experiencing new things, it's easy to see how rare it is for a Dutch person to feel truly confident.

In fact, though it surprises me to admit it, I have met a handful of open, competent, regular Dutch people during my year here. But without exception, they have all lived abroad and have completed (at least) third level education. Their decision to get out of their comfort zone, and look outside the province, has made them happier, and ultimately, more confident.

So, when you put all of this together, I guess I have worked through my hostility and now just feel a bit sorry for the poor Dutchies and their limited expectations and attitude.

This realisation, coupled with the fact that I am leaving Holland permanently in the New Year, means that now seems a good time to finish this blog. I've worked through my issues. Thanks to anyone who read this and enjoyed it.

Dooooooooooooook! Oy! Oy!

Reverse Psychology

2006-12-04T10:49:00.000+02:00

I went to see the new Martin Scorsese picture at the weekend, 'The Departed', during which I learned that Sigmund Freud reputedly said that the Irish were the only people who would not benefit from psychoanalysis.

Hadn't he ever met a Dutch person? Actually, thinking about it, it's highly unlikely, as the Dutchies would have been too cheap and/or terrified to leave the province to visit Austria. Conversely, from what I've read, Freud seemed to be the kind of guy who had enough intellectual pursuits and stimulation to avoid the need to come to a swamp with no culture, populated by morons.

It's a shame, because I would love to have heard his take on the Dutchies and their sour, bitter, resentful, narrow-minded outlook on life. Forget Penis Envy, try Everything Envy.

In my own amateur and shambolic way, I have tried to apply some psychoanalytical strictures to the Dutch to see where I get to? I have never studied psychoanalysis, and have no training in it; nor have I experienced it at first hand. As I'm Irish, according to Freud, it wouldn't have done me much good anyway.

But one thing which I have noticed is that when you do unto Dutchies as they do unto you - a kind of reverse pyschological process - the results are wonderful! Not wonderful in the sense that you gain a fleeting insight into the mind of the Dutch; or you briefly discover what makes them tick; or you finally feel that you are making some kind of human connection. But wonderful in the sense that it really, really pisses them off.

This morning, on the train from Central Station to Schip-hole, I was sitting, minding my own business, looking out the window. This woman sat down across from me and proceeded to make a call. Clearly a simpleton, her vocabulary consisted of only 2 words: 'YA!' and 'lekker!', which she proceed to SCREAM down the phone in ever-more-convoluted combinations:

- YA! Lekker!!
- Lekker!! YA!!
- YA!! Lekker!!!!! YA!!
- Lekker!!! YA!!! Lekker!!! YA!!!!!
- YA!! Lekker!!! Lekker!!! YA!!!!

You get the idea.

Knowing enough about the Dutch, I decided the best course of action was to try to block out her sound. So I put on my iPod Shuffle and sat back. Within seconds, I was hit on the back of my shoulder by a purple-faced Dutchie, who bellowed 'Turn it down!!'

I could hear him bellowing this through the music I was listening to, as well as managing to catch Simpleton Woman SCREAMING "YA! Lekker!! YA!! YA!! YA!! Lekker!! YA!! YA!! Lekker!!! YA!!! YA!!!!". My iPod was not turned up to full volume - it was on its default factory setting when you first switch it on - about Level 5 on a scale of 1 to 10.

So I took out my earphones, looked at the guy, pointed at Simpleton Woman (who was oblivious), and said 'sorry, I'm just trying to drown out this woman's screaming a little bit.'

I put my earphones back in and resumed looking out the window at the flat, featureless, rain-sodden murk. This time Purple Face grabbed my arm and ROARED 'you turn it down!!'.

So I took out my earphones once more, turned, smiled, and said calmly and evenly "it is not possshibolll".

He was a bit stunned, just like I have been on so many ocassions.

"It is too loud!!", he roared, struggling to make himself heard over "YA! YA! YA! YA! Lekker! Lekker! Lekker! Ya! Lekker!"

I smiled serenely and said "live and let live!"

He clearly didn't know what to do or say, so spluttered once again, but with less conviction this time, "it is very loud - turn it down".

I smiled even more sweetly, and repeated "it is not possssssssshibolllllllllllllll!", turned, and put my earphones back in. Purple Face had no option, but to sit down - but he kept shooting me murderous looks for the remainder of my journey.

How wonderful! It was such a pleasure, for once, to be dishing out the "not possssshibollll" crap, instead of being on the receiving end. It was fascinating to watch his reaction; his feelings of rage combined with impotence, in the face of someone being irrationally uncooperative and sociopathic. I loved it!

And so an appeal: to anyone who's ever read this and has identified with the frustrations I've outlined about life in Holland, join me! Next time one of the Dutchies asks you to do something, even if you want to do it, or it would be the simplest thing in the world for you to do, tell them 'it is not possshiboll'. As they rant and rave, take your pick from any one of their inane put-downs:

- it will take too much time!
- it is not my resssshponssssshibility!
- live and let live!

The fightback starts here.

How To Spot A Foreigner

2006-12-01T12:13:00.000+02:00

Returning from holiday recently, my post-holiday buzz (or what was left of it after a 12 hour flight on klm) was rudely shattered by the Dutch customs officer I met at Schip-hole.

- Him - Where are you coming from?
- Me - Hong Kong
- Him - What are you doing here in Holland?
- Me - I live here
- Him - Sprekken lekken Nederlands? [or something like that]
- Me - Excuse me?
- Him - You live here, but you don't speak Dutch?!
- Me - Of course not
- Him - Why not?!
- Me - Are you allowed talk to me like this?
- Him - Come this way!

So he leads us to the search area.

- Him - Did you buy anything in Hong Kong?
- Me - Naturally
- Him - What did you buy?!
- Me - Assorted items
- Him - But what did you buy?!
- Me - Well you're a customs officer, we're in a search area, my cases are right there: knock yourself out
- Him - you are free to go!

What the hell was that all about? Why, out of all the people streaming through Customs, had he stopped me? I was frankly too exhausted to analyse it at the time, but reflecting on it since then, it appears to be just another example of the Dutch provincial terror and loathing for anything 'foreign'.

Does that sound paranoid? I used to think it sounded a little bit crazy. After all, how do the Dutchies necessarily know that you are 'not from these parts' just by looking at you? Given how slow-witted they are, surely they can't have some sixth sense which identifies you as foreign, without you admitting the fact?

But then I realised that all the clues are there. It is abundantly obvious to anyone who is, and who isn't, from the Parish, by following some simple rules on 'how to spot a foreigner'.

They're not as obvious as 'wears nice clothes' or 'has washed recently' as there are some Dutchies who have relatives abroad who will send them money or soap. It's certain, key behavioural traits that give the game away, so that if you did any of the following, even wearing a peasant costume, clogs, 34 gallons of fake tan, and a stunned-but-bitter expression, people would still know you are foreign.

1. Buy Food For More Than One Meal At A Time

It's late (around 5.30 in Amsterdam), restaurants are closing in about 10 minutes - not that you'd want to eat at one - so you have to go to Al-turd Heijn to get some food. Look in the other shoppers' baskets. What do you see? Herring Risotto for one? Raw meat balls a deux? Or maybe your fancy neighbour who has notions has chosen something from Al-turd Heijn's 'Excellent' range? (Aren't there trade description laws here?).

Whatever. What all of these shoppers will have in common is the fact that they are buying essentials or a meal for that day only. But if you spot someone with a basket, or - gasp, a trolley! - full of food or other items intended to last more than the next 24 hours, they are a foreigner.

2. Observe Basic Manners

If you've ever travelled to or from Schiphol on the train, you know that those swing glass doors at the entrance to each carriage can be pretty lethal if they hit you full on. So think about the times when the person ahead of you has held the door for you, to prevent it from smacking into your face. Anyone who has ever done this is a foreigner.

3. Anticipate Others' Movements

Remember when you lived or visited somewhere normal? Somewhere busy, dynamic and bustling? Where there were lots of people, doing lots of interesting, different things? Where the entire town or city did not wake up with the same thought every Saturday: 'Must Walk Slowly Up And Down Kalverstraat But Buy Nothing'.

In these other places, where thousands of people are rushing around, doing stuff, ironically, it is quite rare for someone to bump into you, and certainly unheard of to have someone deliberately and ponderously walk straight into you. Think about it.

Busy places are busy because, typically, they attract successful, dynamic people who value novelty, variety and fun. And these people can respect each other enough to see someone walking towards them and move out of their way, or naturally fall into a city's rhythm of 'slow lanes' and 'fast lanes' on the pavements. You don't believe me? Go somewhere normal, like London or Paris and see it in action.

In Amsterdam, it's rather different. If you see someone do this: try to walk quickly, with a sense of purpose; or anticipate someone else's movement and get out of their way, they are a foreigner.

4. Perform A Simple Transaction In Under 40 Minutes

You're in a queue for a simple service; one which should take about 30 seconds to effect. Not a mortgage application; not a CAT scan; not a heart, lung and kidney transplant. Something more straightforward like buying a cinema ticket.

Go, for example, to the ticket line at Pathe Tuschinski. Observe how it takes the Dutchies up to 30 minutes to buy a cinema ticket. What are they saying to each other? 'Is this a cinema?'; 'What do you mean? - moving pictures??';'How do the people get into the screen?'.

Anyone in front of you who goes to the ticket window, says what they want, has their cash ready, and walks away in under 1 minute with their tickets, is a foreigner.

5. Carry Take Out Coffee

Walk on any street in London or New York - or any normal city - and you will almost immediately see someone walking with a Starbucks or other take out coffee. Perform this observation between 7 a.m. and 10 a.m. Monday to Friday and you'll notice that the number of people doing this is in the hundreds.

By contrast, have you ever seen someone walking with take out coffee in Amsterdam? Think about it. Maybe once or twice? Those people, the ones you saw doing this - foreigners!

6. Laugh Or Smile Warmly At Something Other Than Someone Farting Or Falling Over

This one is the real give away. Scour the streets of Amsterdam looking for a warm, smiling face. If you find one, quickly scan and smell the immediate vicinity of the person in question. Did someone just blow ass? Or do you see someone who's just tripped over, or fallen, or been injured or mugged? Yes - and the smiling person is a Dutchie. No - and they are a foreigner.

Fashion Police

2006-11-30T17:30:00.000+02:00

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

2006-11-23T12:42:00.000+02:00

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

2006-11-22T12:34:00.001+02:00

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!

2006-11-02T13:22:00.000+02:00

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!!!

As The World Tans

2006-10-30T13:39:00.001+02:00

Previously, on 'As The World Tans'...

'Doooooooooook!! What do you mean, there is a new tanning salon opening across the street??! We will be put out of bishness!!!!'

[dramatic voiceover]

- Will SunDaze survive?
- Will the new salon force Dirk and Hilde into the 20th century?
- Who is the mysterious owner of the new salon?

.... find out, on this week's episode of 'As The World Tans'....

Dirk: Oooooooooiiiii Hilde!!! Look at thish promotional flyer!!!

'New Tanning Salon open! Special introductory discounts!
Convenient opening hours. Friendly service. Latest model sunbeds.
Professional staff. Clean environment. Credit cards accepted.'

They are everything we are not!!! We will be deshtroyed!!!!'

Hilde - [shrugs shoulders] - 'I am not worried. We have loyal customers. They will not defect to this fancy Sun Palace across the shtreet!'

Dirk - 'but Hilde! We have 43 staff on our payroll! 11 are on job share and work 12 minutes a week each! The other 32 are on permanent sick leave! We are close to going under as it is! And now thish! Ooooooooiiiiii!!!'

Hilde - 'do not worry Dirk, I have a plan! Let us do some indushtrial eshpionnnnage! Let ush shee what we are up againsht!! After all, their flyer may just be all lies! Remember - our shign shays we also are friendly and clean, but you shecretly film the girlsh when they are doing the tanning and watch the filmsh with your friendsh - ho! ho! ho!'

Dirk - 'yesh, Hilde - as usual you are right. You go and shee what these Sun Palace people are made off......'

[Scene 2: in the lobby of Sun Palace].

Sara - 'Hi there! Welcome to Sun Palace! My name is Sara. What can I help you with today?'

Hilde '[eyeing her up and down scornfully] - yesh, I am here to have a tan! - what elshe?'

Sara - 'ok, if you don't mind me saying so, you have rather a deep, deep colour as things are. Have you just come back from holiday?'

Hilde '[proudly] - I was in my camper van in Hilvershum! But I am naturally very bronze!'

Sara - 'well, have you been on a sunbed in the last 3 days?'

Hilde - 'of courshe! what is wrong with you?!'

Sara - 'really, I don't think it would be safe for you to tan any more for a while. We have very high standards of care here at Sun Palace. I really do think your skin would benefit from a rest for a few days. Perhaps you'd like to consider a rejuvenation therapy instead?'

Hilde - 'you Americansh make me shick! Coming here thinking you know everything! What about him?! [points at Sara's assistant]. He hash an even bronzer colour than me!! You probably let him use your shunbed!!!'

Sara - 'Er, he's black, I'm from Antwerp, and I was just making a suggestion. Of course, you are welcome to use our sunbeds if you choose to do so.'

Hilde - 'YA! Lekker! Yesh, I go for the Turbo Bronze for 45 minutesh.'

Sara - 'the maximum time allowed, for safety reasons, is 10 minutes. That will be €7.'

Hilde - '[blinking] what will be €7?'

Sara - 'your 10 minute sunbed session.'

Hilde - '€7??!!! For 10 minutesh!! You can get the Crishpy Duck Special for that!!'

Sara - 'sorry, what? I'm not sure I follow - what has a Chinese restaurant promotion got to do with our pricing?'

Hilde - 'You fool! The Crishpy Duck Special is mine!! At ShunDaze - across the shtreet - all you can tan for €7!! I have sheen enough here! Austublieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeft!!!!'

[Scene 3 - back at SunDaze]

Hilde - '[cackling] Dirk, they cannot shucksheed. The place will close within a week! The prices they are charging, no-one from the village will go! They are outshidersh too!'

Dirk - '[applying blister cream to Hilde's face] - you are so clever! But wait - who's that at the door?'

[Dirk goes to answer the door, and returns with a strange man].

Hilde - who are you?

Dirk - he shays he's the owner of Shun Palace!

Strange Man - don't you recognise me, Hilde?

Hilde - '[squinting] - Bobby??!!'

[dramatic voiceover]

- who is Bobby?
- what will become of Sun Palace?
- has Hilde had her last Crispy Duck special?

...... tune in next time for more 'As the World Tans'...

Freaks of Nature

2006-10-24T10:13:00.000+03:00

I've been resisting the temptation for several weeks to rant about my neighbours. I figured that I was simply unlucky to be living amongst such a bona fide collection of freaks. That the topic, or my experiences, were not universal enough to be the subject of a posting. But having consulted more widely, it appears that I am not alone in suffering neighbour-induced hell. Though I challenge anyone to have quite so many traumatic encounters as I do.

We all live in a house on one of the canals in central Amsterdam. My partner and I are up on top; then there's 2 sets of neighbours on the floor below; and another on the ground floor. Plus several adjacent neighbours with terraces which adjoin ours. All of them are Dutch.

Now, I am a good neighbour. I've never lived in a big, detached house or anything: it's been apartments all the way, with people above, below, and on either side. I've never had any difficulty with any of them. We all paid our bills; kept our place and common areas clean; taken deliveries for each other, you know the kind of thing. Equally, I've never become bosom buddies with a neighbour: it's been more a cordial 'let's look out for - but not stalk - each other' kind of arrangement.

Except in Amsterdam. The neighbours' issues range from exhibitionism, to racism, to inappropriate interference, to out and out psychosis.

Neighbours Number 1: Fists of Fury

29 minutes after we moved into our apartment, we got our first complaint from our downstairs neighbours. The issue? Music. Not loud, raucous music. Not music at an unsociable hour either. This was at around 4.30 on a Saturday afternoon. We were unpacking all our crap from our move from London and so I put on some music to get things moving. You know how it is. Admittedly, the music was probably too loud to carry on a conversation if you were sitting right beside the speakers, but it was certainly nothing socially unacceptable - you could still hear traffic outside and church bells, for example.

'Bang! Bang! Bang!' - fists on the door. I answered it.

'Hello - I am your neighbour. Turn off the music'.

Picture the scene. I'm fresh off the plane and new to Amsterdam, so I haven't fully realised the social horrors that await. So I took this exchange at face value. The guy was about my age (34), maybe a bit older. I could tell, instinctively, that he was on edge about something: he was a bit twitchy and stony-faced. So I said 'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was that loud? I'll turn it down.'

With that, he managed a half-smile and said 'so you are moving in?'
- 'Yes, we just got here. We've moved from London; I've come to start a new job and we're....'
- [interrupting] 'We are used to having no-one live here.'
- 'Oh - right. Was the flat empty for long?'
- 'Yes.'
[awkward silence ensues]
- [brightening] 'well maybe you will come down for a drink tomorrow when you are unpacked? But remember - no music!'

Classic passive-aggressive behaviour. So I turned down the music a bit and we got on with our unpacking.

About an hour later, there was another 'bang! bang! bang!' on the door. I answered it again.

- You are walking! Stop walking!
- Excuse me?
- You are walking on the floor! Stop it!
- Sorry. What?!
- We can hear you! [points upwards]. The walking is too loud! Stop it!

And with that, he turned on his heel and left.

Did he want me to fucking levitate? It was clear by this stage that he was a total crank, so I figured best keep out of his way and not to antagonise him unduly.

The next morning, there was a letter pinned to our front door. "We can hear EVERYTHING. The apartment is very old. We can hear you walking and what you are saying." Hilarious! (I think I still have the letter somewhere; if I do, I'll scan it and post it online). What a complete freak!

Now, any time we play music or turn on the television, he or his girlfriend bound up the stairs and pound the door furiously with their fists. When we ignore them, one goes down to the street and starts ringing the intercom, while the other continues to pound and pound on the door. It's absolutely hilarious! I must video it.

Neighbours Number 2: Support Knickers

The woman on the ground floor is a psychoanalyst's dream. Neighbours Number 1 are just straightforward nutters, but this woman presents a gamut of symptoms. In a nutshell, she is the most intrusive, nosey, interfering person; prone to making unsolicited racist remarks; and typically clad in a sturdy pair of support knickers. Only.

I reckon she's about 55. Now, bits of my body are already beginning to head south at the age of 34, so I have no issue with her decision to wear enormous control pants. But could she put on a skirt, or shorts, or something? Anything?

You may even have seen her? She typically sits in a stuffed armchair by the window watching EVERYTHING that goes on in the street outside. It is now almost impossible to leave or enter the building without her running around the hallways in her support knickers, accosting you, and saying things like 'there's a letter for you there: it's from London!!' or 'I see you arrived home in a taxi the other day!!' On Monday and Thursday mornings, when the garbage is collected, she's typically outside on the street, coquettishly handing bin bags to the dustmen - yes, in her underwear.

She thinks all black people are drug dealers and freaks out if she sees a black person entering or leaving any of the neighbouring buildings, warning us to 'beware'.

She has made it a personal crusade to be given keys to everyone's apartments in the building. She says this is necessary in case there's a fire. Bollocks: she's just nosey. She even wrote to our landlord, demanding keys, saying that we had given permission (we hadn't). I've seen her skulking around one of the other neighbours' apartments when she was away on holiday. When we were on holiday, she was in our apartment, saying she thought there was a leak.

In total, I have had about 300 interactions with her over the past 7 months. That's more than my own mother.

Neighbours Number 3: Outdoor Spa

The guy who lives in the building next door has a terrace which adjoins ours. He was the inspiration for my 'Grandpa's Dick' posting a while ago.

Yes, I know I am probably being prudish, and that public nudity is not such a taboo in continental Europe. But still. Maybe if was just sunbathing, or taking the air, it wouldn't be so much of an issue. But I think it's the combination of his nudity, with his other unconventional behaviour that is causing me some difficulties.

In particular, he recently got himself a girlfriend and they have taken to having baths together. Not in the privacy of their bathroom, with scented candles and oils, or whatever. But in a crappy tin bath on the terrace. With a hose.

In fairness. Seeing Grandpa's Dick is one thing. But seeing it swinging like a dodgy pendulum as he soaps his 80 year old girlfriend's tits with a hose and a bottle of Fa is a bit much.

One, Two, Five

2006-10-19T17:47:00.000+03:00

A comment on one of my postings recently said that only about 30% of Dutch people went to university. I couldn't believe this, so did some digging. In fact, the situation is even worse! Only about 20% of Dutch people between 19 and 23 are in full-time education. That's staggering!

Though when you reflect upon it, perhaps it's maybe not so surprising after all...

Traditionally, universities are places where you go to learn new things, as well as to broaden your horizons and prepare for adult life. As most Dutch people don't value learning, culture or novelty; hate different things and people; and are terrified of any form of change or evolution, perhaps it is not surprising that so few of them go on to study anything and go straight from high school to sick leave.

I live in the centre of Amsterdam village, quite close to Amsterdam 'University'. I was intrigued to find out more, so managed to get into the English faculty and found the following excerpts from an English degree exam paper.

AMSTERDAM UNIVERSITY
FACULTY OF ENGLISH

You have invited a friend for dinner and need to buy a herring at the fishmonger.

Complete the following gaps with the word or words you believe most appropriate.

Time Allowed: 8 hours

"Dooooook! Oy! __! I would like to buy a _____!"
"That is not ___________. You must buy at least 5 herrings at a time."
"But I only want ___!"
"That is not _________.""
"Why not?!"
"________ are lekker: everyone knows that."
"OK - better give me 5 _______."
"We are out of _________, but we do have some salmon."
"Why didn't you just say you had no herrings! OK - better give me the salmon"
"It is not my _________________! I only sell herrings!"
"Well can I speak with the person who sells _____?"
"That is not _________"
"Why not?!"
"He has a cramp. He is on long-____ sick leave."
"Maybe you ____ sell me the salmon?"
"It will take too much ____"
"_____ you could pretend the salmon is a big, pink herring?"
"That is not ________"
"I want to speak to someone else!"
"_____ will not help ___"

Political Science

2006-10-14T13:44:00.000+03:00

"There is no such thing as society: there are individual men and women, and there are families".

So said Margrit van Thatcher, Dutch Prime Minister, in 1987.

What's that? She wasn't Dutch? She was British? Her real name was Margaret Thatcher? Boy, do I feel silly!

Imagine thinking that a woman would be allowed to become Prime Minister of Holland!

The more I experience of Dutch society, the more I am reminded of this quote. Again, Holland has done a great marketing job. The received wisdom is that Holland is a lovely, socially cohesive, nice, middle-of-the-road place, in which the extremes of unchecked capitalism, or unfettered socialism, are nicely balanced in a big, orange, fudge.

The reality is that the poor Dutchies are confused between, on the one hand, having a divine sense of personal entitlement in the face of the rest of society and, on the other hand, no clue how to improve their lot and expecting the Dutch state to figure things out for them.

Maybe it's the fact that these 2 irreconcilable concepts are constantly competing with each other for prominence that leads, inexorably, to that Dutch torpidity, resentment and indolence with which we are all so familiar?

Let's look at both sides of the equation.

1. Me, Me, Me!

Each Dutch person believes that they are entitled to whatever it is they want, and that their needs are paramount above everyone else's. Critically, this sense of entitlement does not depend on hard work or knuckling down: it's yours by birthright, simply because you are born Dutch.

The 'me, me, me!' mentality finds its logical expression in the 'live and let live' mantra which the Dutch are so fond of quoting. 'Live and let live' means, in fact, the diametric opposite of what the Dutch marketeers would have us believe. It does not mean 'let's all live together in harmony: I won't get in your business, if you don't get in mine'. In reality, it means 'I'll behave exactly as I please - if you don't like it, tough - and I'll trot out this 'live and let live' bullshit to justify my behaviour'.

Some examples:

Your average Dutch waiter or shop assistant believes that their job is a temporary staging post on the way to something more fulfilling. It's not like in L.A., where many service staff are harbouring ambitions to become movie stars: it's rather more mundane than that. Instead, the key aspiration is to win the lottery; find a load of cash; or get on long-term benefit: some way of turning their dream of sitting on their arse doing nothing into a cossetted reality, that's funded by somebody else.

This is why your attempts to get service or attention are competing with the Dutchie's innate desire to squat on a scatter cushion, eating herring-waffles, and whose idea of dynamism is to shift the majority of their body weight from their left arse-cheek to the right. That is the Dutchie's divine right and is more important than yours, even if you are a paying customer.

Similarly, if a Dutchie in your apartment building decides they want to dine al fresco, they won't contemplate spending money on a restaurant. Rather, they'll carry their crappy old table and chairs onto the doorstep of the building, and sit there, blocking the entrance, munching herrings and farting. 'I'm in the way and you want to get into the building? Can't you see I'm having dinner? Live and let live!'

You were relying on me, your co-worker, to help you out with something? I'd much rather be at home, doing nothing, but getting paid. In fact, I can feel a cramp developing. Looks like I'm going to be out of action for months!

2. State Aid

The other side to the equation is that the Dutchie expects someone else to create their world for them. Although every Dutch person has an innate sense of entitlement to everything, it is never up to them to make their vision of how their world should be into a reality. In short, this is summed up in that other classic, Dutch expectoration 'it is not my resssshponsssshibility!!!'

So whose is it? It doesn't really matter, so long as it's not the Dutchie's. This is a society in which it is perfectly acceptable to do absolutely nothing in your job; go off on long term sick leave for months, on full pay; return to do absolutely nothing; then go out on sick leave again, over and over in an endless cycle. The justification? Because there will always be someone else to cover and take responsiblity (even though there never is).

This is the land of the micro-job, where you have to deal with 7 or 8 people separately, in order to effect the simplest transaction. This structure has not arisen because each person has an important role to play in the chain: it's so that when, inevitably, what you want to achieve is not posssshiboll, or will take too much time, that there are plenty of other people to point the finger at, because "it was not my ressssshponssssshibility!!!"

The Dutchies see nothing wrong or opposite in their twin core beliefs that: (1) they should be allowed do whatever they want and each individual is more important than everyone else; but (2) they have absolutely no responsibility in making anything happen for themselves.

Mind Your Language!

2006-10-11T09:03:00.000+03:00

Look! Here's an extract I received from a Dutch video-training manual for those inbuggering courses where foreigners are forced to learn Dutch! It's intended to familiarise the Dutch teachers about all the weirdo foreigners they're going to have to deal with! See it here.

Ok, ok - I made it all up. It's actually the opening sequence from a 1970s British sitcom. Does anyone remember this TV show? It was about foreign students learning English and was truly woeful, relying on all kinds of national stereotypes for humour. So the Italian guy was always saying "Mamma Mia!" and the Indian guy was always saying "goodness gracious me" etc. Actually, it would probably go down a treat in Holland in 2006; maybe as part of a Mr Bean double bill special?

Anyhow, I was reminded of the show when attending a conference last week. There was a bunch of us there from all over the place, and English was the common language in which most people conversed when not speaking with someone else who spoke their native tongue.

Now the Dutch speak good English and, typically, learn it from the age of 4 or 5 at school. They have a greater fluency and several years of practice more than, say, your average Pole or Hungarian. So it was interesting to compare the different ways in which people expressed themselves in English; in particular, how the Dutch people's choice of words and style revealed their underlying personality traits and character.

In conversation with non-Dutchies, when you ventured an opinion or view about something with which the other person disagreed, they'd usually say something like "Really? Do you think so?" Or "Why do you think that?" or "I have a different view" or "My view is that....". That kind of thing; basically a way in which you can have a good exchange of views, but keep the conversation moving along nicely.

Except for our Dutch friends. "No, no, no, no, no, no - I am 100% certain that I am absolutely right. In fact I am sure of it." This was the riposte I received 15 seconds into my first conversation with a Dutchie. What were we debating? It wasn't some incontrovertible fact, like what's the capital of Bolivia?; or some conjecture, like who will win the F.A. Cup?, but rather the name of someone we both (allegedly) knew in common; who I had hired at my previous company; known for 7 years; and had spoken to the day before, in person. In contrast, the Dutchie thought he may have worked with her a couple of years ago, but, nevertheless, based on his logic, I had somewhat embarrassingly been calling her by the wrong name for 7 years.

I decided to change the subject and talk about Prague (where the conference was located). I said 'such a beautiful city' (which it is), or some other small-talk-conference-speak thing like that, to which his reply was "I took some photographs earlier around the place - very disappointing, because normally all of the photographs I take are amazing. Even if the subject is not very good!"

Our scintillating conversation then moved on to talking about the conference itself. I asked him had he attended in previous years? No, first time for him - as it was for me. So I said that I thought this was the third year the conference had been run? He waved his hand in my face and said "no, you are quite mistaken. I know for a fact that this is the fourth year! In fact, I am sure of it!"

So I had some fun with him for a while by saying things like 'I thought Amsterdam was in Germany?' and 'don't you think that the Dutch language will cease to exist in 3 or 4 years', but to be honest with you, it was diminishing returns sense-of-humour-wise - ie, he didn't have one.

It was time to dump him on some other unfortunate in the room. I saw a couple of other people who I knew and so asked if he knew them? "I have absolutely no idea who they are. I've never met them in my life before!" Er... a simple, 'no, but it would be lovely to meet them' would have done it. With that, I said, "you know, I think I left the iron on in my room, I better go check"". I didn't bother to wait to hear the "no, no, no, no, no you are quite mistaken!"

Lounge Lizards

2006-10-08T22:58:00.000+03:00

I've been travelling this past week on business. Due to the amount I travel for my company, I recently got a gold card for klm, and received a leaflet explaining all of the benefits to which I am now entitled. The one that sounded most useful was lounge access: from now on, I'm entitled to use the klm lounge at Schiphol, even when travelling economy.

You can tell a lot about how boring my life in Holland is by the fact that this is one of the most exciting things that has happened to me in months.

The other morning, I decided I'd try it out and made my approach to the klm lounge. When I got to the door, there was a handwritten sign outside it, on which someone had scrawled the word "FULL". Now, I've lived here long enough to know that this was exceptionally unlikely to be the case, and that, rather, the subtext of the sign meant "PLEASE GO AWAY - WE HAVE MAGAZINES TO READ". As I was pondering my next course of action, the doors to the lounge swung open and about 8 businessmen exited.

I therefore figured that, at worst, the lounge must now be full, minus 8 people. So I went in. 3 klm staffers sat behind the counter. 2 were chatting to each other, the third was.... reading a magazine. I decided I would approach her and went up to the desk, said "good morning", and smilingly proffered my boarding pass and card. Without looking up from her magazine, she simply pointed a dirty-fingernailed, nicotine-stained, wrinkly hand towards the door where the "FULL" sign stood.

I didn't say anything (I was actually a bit stunned), and stood there. She flipped the page in her magazine, making no attempt whatsoever to communicate or even make eye contact with me. I looked across at her 2 friends who were still too engrossed in their conversation even to be aware that there were customers waiting to be served.

So I decided I'd just ignore them, as they had done me, and go right on in. The place was busy, certainly, though 2 things caught my attention: (1) there were plenty of empty chairs around the place; and (2) it was absolutely filthy.

As I was taking about my 6th step past the reception, one of the talking girls shouted after me: "Shur - it is not posssshibolll. It is very bisssssshy."

I returned to the desk. I was livid. "I'm so sorry - I didn't want to interrupt your conversation earlier and your deaf-mute colleague is busy reading about Big Brother, so I figured I'd just come in. Also, for your information, the lounge isn't full. By a quick reckoning, I'd say 20% of the seats are free. It is completely filthy though. Why the 3 of you aren't fired immediately is beyond my comprehension."

And with that, I continued into the lounge, and got a coffee. I felt like such an asshole. It is pretty out of character for me to speak to people like that, but my outburst wasn't really about this latest episode of imbecility from the Dutchies: I guess it was the dam breaking after several months of drip, drip, drip: the daily grind of trying to get anything accomplished or any modicum of professionalism or service from the Dutch. I didn't feel like saying "maybe you could look up from your magazine and talk directly to me?" or "maybe you could stop chatting; take down the misleading sign from outside; and run this place professionally for your paying customers?" Not today, at any rate.

Coochie Coo

2006-10-02T19:11:00.000+03:00

Do a survey of "nationalities that are known to be charming" and I guarantee you the Dutch won't feature highly. So it's ironic that you have to employ all your skills of flattery, encouragement and diplomacy to charm them into doing something for you.

I'm not taking about charming someone in the traditional sense: you know, where the person you want to do something doesn't really want to do it, but with a bit of banter, compliments and a few smiles, you can often figure out a solution. Rather, I'm talking about all the extra work you need to put in with the Dutch.

You're not drawing on a deep well of decency here, where, with a bit of effort, you can influence the other person to seeing your point of view. In Holland, the process is significantly more laborious and cumbersome and requires you to:

1. surmount the Dutchie's suspicion and hostility at being asked to do something in the first place;

2. figure out some solutions to the problem (because they certainly won't);

3. tentatively suggest the solutions, while at the same time being full of praise and encouragement for the Dutchie; and

4. make the Dutchie think they're doing you a great service by using the solution which you identified for them in the first place.

Exhausting, but true. If you don't believe me, next time you're trying to persuade a Dutch person to provide you with something you want, be alert to how many of the sentences in your interaction commence with the words "maybe you could....?"

It is ridiculous how much work you have to do to offset their infantilism.

Suppose you're at a store and ask to purchase something. Suppose you're given one of the Holy Trinity of Dutch service responses: 'that is not posssshibolll'; 'that is not my reshponshibility'; or 'that will take too much time'. Rather than getting frustrated, or leaving, maybe try a 'maybe you could...?'

'Maybe you could look up the price in your manual?'

'Maybe you could phone your other branch to see if it's in stock there?'

'Maybe you could let me pay by credit card, because if you don't, I can't buy this item?'

And so on. The Dutchie will listen to your suggestion before imperiously deciding whether they can be arsed to exert the single calorie required to do what it is you're asking them to. It's critical at this stage to smile at and encourage the Dutchie, much like you would coddle a baby or indulge a toddler. Then tell them that they have been so helpful and smart to think of the solution in the first place.

It sounds completely trite and banal, but it works! The other day, I went through this whole rigmarole and watched as the sales assistant stood up straight, nodded sagely at me, and said "yesh - it is possshiboll" - as if bestowing some divine right on me, when all I wanted to do was pay for something, but collect it a couple of hours later.

Initially, I was summarily informed: "it is not possssshibolll", but by applying my new theory, I got to "Yesh - it is possssshibollll" in 5 easy steps:

1. Me: 'I'd like to pay for this now and collect it in a couple of hours - ok?'

Them - 'It is not possshibolll'

2. Me - 'Maybe you could let me pay for it now and take it away now?'

Them - [caught slightly off guard] 'Yesh...'

3. Me - 'Or, maybe you could let me come back in a couple of hours and buy it then?'

Them - [now definitely confused] '...Yesh....'

4. Me - [quickly] 'So maybe, then, we could split the difference and you could let me pay now, but collect later?'

Them - [chews cud; doesn't really understand what's happening; so is about to go into default 'it is not posssshibolllll' mode]

5. Me - [Smile indulgently; ] - 'Thanks so much for coming up with this solution! It's extremely thoughtful of you!'

Them - [blinking] 'Yesh - it is posssshibollll'

I Want Money For Doing Nothing

2006-09-28T11:31:00.000+03:00

Hello! And welcome to 'I Want Money For Doing Nothing', the top-rated Dutch quiz show which gives YOU the opportunity to do exactly what you've always wanted: get lots of money.... for doing nothing!

Regular viewers will know how simple the rules are! A series of 'moral dilemmas' are posed to our contestants. Those who guess the answers correctly, based on our survey of 100 Dutch people, wins the round! First to 3 rounds wins!

Let's meet our contestants! First up is Elisabeth, she's 43 and works at a tanning salon. What's that? You're 23? I'm so sorry, forgive me! We also have Peter who is on long-term, stress-related, sick leave from his job as a hand model. Finally, we have Marieta, who works as a waitress in Amsterdam. Er.... where is she? .... Hold on, I've just been told that she is very busy and will be with us in another 6 hours!

OK - let's get started! Scenario 1: you see an old person wandering and disoriented. They are clearly distressed and confused. The question is: what do you do?

Elisabeth - go through their pockets?!
Peter - pressurise them to sign a will leaving everything they own to you?!

Peter! That's excellent. 98% of the Dutch public agree with you! You're 2 steps from the money!

OK - Scenario 2. You have 2 friends who each helps out with a charity and has asked you to help with door to door collections. One collects for famine relief. The other collects for rehabilitation of Dutch paedophiles. The question is: what do you do?

Elisabeth: the paedophiles, of course!
Peter: do both on alternate days, then take the money?!

Oh! Bad luck Elisabeth! Peter's just shaded that one with 75% of Dutch people agreeing! Peter - you're just 1 step from the money! Elisabeth - come on! You need to start fighting back here!

It's time for Scenario 3. You are walking in the centre of Amsterdam when you see an immigrant distressed: their house is on fire and their children are trapped inside! The question is: what do you do?

Elisabeth, you go first here - and remember, go with your instincts. What do you think most Dutch people would do?

Elisabeth: eat a herring?!!!
Peter: it's a trick question! An immigrant would never be allowed to live in the centre of Amsterdam!

Oh Peter! You've done it again and you're our winner! You've won €5! Well done!

Join us next time for more "I Want Money For Doing Nothing". Or you can catch Peter again as he'll automatically go on to our other exciting show "I Wish I'd Never Got Money For Doing Nothing Because If I Try To Spend It, People Will Think I'm Showing Off".

Good night!

Wordsh Will Help You!

2006-09-25T11:58:00.000+03:00

Note: in the interests of balance and fair comment, today's blog posting has been made by a Dutch guest editor

Doooooooooooook! Oy! Oy!

Everyone in the world knowsh 2 things: (1) that Holland is the greatest country in the world; and (2) that Dutch people are the besht at everything! All who live here are lucky! Everyone in the world shecretly wishes they are Dutch! Dutch is the most beautiful language in the world! William van Shakespeare is a Dutch! So is the shinger Van Morrisson! The world comes to Holland! That's why the country is so crowded! But there are not so many problems. Everyone is happy. Everything is lekker!

It is not true that we do not have shervishesh here! I go to Febo for my dinner and can pick my own food! In restaurantsh, I am allowed collect my own menu, search out my own drinks, carry my own plate! In shopsh, I can look at picturesh of things I can have in my house in 7 monthsh! Now that is shervish!

It is a lie we do not have food that is lekker! Julienne of bitteballe, with cabbage confit and jus de herring is my favourite!!

Even though Dutch are the greatesht at everything and all other people are shits, we are very modesht and egalitarian! No-one is allowed to be flashy in Holland and show trappings of wealth. This is because we are all the shame! (well, exshept the outsiders from other landsh). It is nothing to do with us being bitter and reshentful that other people may shucksheed by not shitting on their arshe!

We are not rashist here! I even have a black friend, Sooty! Sometimes, I eat oranges that come on boats from black countries! If I was rashsist, I would not be able to peel them!

I don't undershtand why the foreigners think we are humourless and aggreshive?! It is shimply not true! If you don't like it here, why not fuck off?!!

Doooooooooooooook! Oy! Oy! Austublieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeft!

Oranjestan

2006-09-20T20:01:00.000+03:00

A couple of weeks ago, I speculated what life would have been like had the Brits not kicked the Dutch out of New Amsterdam? If the U.S.A. had never happened? Instead, if by some grotesque quirk of history, the Dutch had remained and become the world's dominant cultural power? How different would things be?

It's relatively easy to piece this parallel universe together by looking at other countries' experience of Dutch colonial rule, and other communities where the Dutch and their ancestors have flourished.

Two examples stand out above all others: the Boers and the Amish. The Boers settled South Africa and quickly set about implementing State-sponsored segregation of people along colour lines: white or Zwarte Piet. This became known as 'apartheid', which is the Dutch word for 'separateness', and the English word for 'racism'.

On the other side of the world, the Amish community represents the product of almost 350 years of uninterrupted Dutch social development on American soil. Their guiding principles are to shun all modern forms of technology and to live a simple life, plodding and untainted by modern artifices, like medicine and telecommunications.

Imagine if these 2 unique Dutch contributions to world culture had been allowed to develop unchecked? Would we still be tilling soil by hand? Or, more likely, would slaves be doing this? Would medical science be laughably underdeveloped? Modern services and conveniences would still be the stuff of science fiction. If there was any science. Or fiction.

It's sobering to think what Oranjestan could have been like. Backward and insular, mean to minorities, resistant to change, with an acute hostility to progress and development. Basically, exactly like modern Holland. Only bigger.

Tick, tock

2006-09-19T11:02:00.000+03:00

Time is a complicated thing in Holland. It means different things, to different people, in different circumstances. While one person or situation may call for absolute punctuality, another may excuse extreme tardiness.

Of course, timekeeping can be a very subjective thing and we all have friends who can be maddeningly late. But in Holland, there is another dimension to time. The variations are not as simple as 'early/ on time/late'. There are entire additional sub-species at work, and I'm not just talking about restaurant staff.

1. Too Much Time

Ask someone to do something and you can often be told "that will take too much time". There's a critical piece missing here. What the person means is that it will take too much of their time. Or to paraphrase, "Go away - I can't be arsed". The uninitiated or unfamiliar may think this rude or incompetent, but it is actually the distillation of hours of careful customer service training.

In an effort to move people on from the ubiquitous, knee-jerk "it is not posssshibollll", this new phrase has entered the Dutch service lexicon. The hope is that the customer will take the "it will take too much time" brush-off on face value, and leave the Dutchie to get back to reading their comic.

The problem is that, demonstrably, what you're asking for won't take too much time. Typically, it is the most straightforward thing in the world. The other day, I bought a cinema ticket online. When I got to the cinema, the ticket dispenser was broken. So I joined the queue for the ticket desk. When I explained I had already booked and paid for my ticket but couldn't retrieve it, the woman behind the counter shrugged and pointed at the next customer, beckoning him forward.

Me: "Hello? Can you give me my ticket?"

Her: "It will take too much time."

Me: "Huh? Just look it up on you system and print it off."

Her: "It will take too much time."

Me: "Well, I ain't moving, so do it, or call your supervisor."

Her: [Theatrical sigh] "What is the credit card number you used to book?"

I gave her the number; she tapped in the last 4 numbers; the tickets were printed automatically. In total, the whole thing took about 3.5 seconds.

Me: "See - that didn't take much time at all, did it?"

Her: [Stares venomously in silence, eyes filling with hatred].

2. Be On Time

God help you if you are a billionth of a nanosecond late for an appointment with a Dutch official. It's a major disaster for you, but the sweetest feeling in the world for them. Naturally, we all try to be on time for our appointments. But stuff happens. Like no-one will give you change at the railway station so you can buy a ticket. Or a delivery truck parks for 2 hours and blocks off the entire road. Or it pisses rain for hours and causes delays to traffic.

Even if you're 1 minute late, the Dutch official will smugly book you in for another appointment, in 2 weeks' time; then go back to picking their nose.

Once, I was just 3 minutes late for an 8 a.m. appointment at the tax office. I was the only person in the building, apart from the 43,000 employees sitting behind the counter, each of whom was doing nothing. The man I dealt with practically had a hard-on telling me that I had missed my appointment and that it was not possssshibollllll to see me now, even though the allotted appointment time was 30 minutes. As I protested, he said "words will not help you - come back in 2 weeks".

At least I got a good blog title out of it.

3. Don't Be On Time

How long would it take you to carry a sofa for 3 miles? Factor in frequent pauses for rests. It would be pretty slow - right? Even assuming you carry it 3 steps per hour, you'd still make it in a month. Which means you'd beat Jenckinova, de Bijenkorf, or any other Dutch store by 6 months.

Why is that, when you want something, and are prepared to pay for it, you still have to wait for months to receive it? When I moved here, my Dutch relocation agent gave me a book on Dutch business etiquette. Having read it cover to cover in 9 seconds, I remember one of the points being that "Dutch people expect you to be on time and it is considered rude to be late". But this is only one half of the equation, and it doesn't work.

Dutch people expect timeliness when you are coming to see them, but think it's perfectly acceptable to be light years late when they're coming to see you. If you're late, you get pious mooing. If they're late, you still get the pious mooing, coupled with shoulder shrugging and hostility.

4. The Land That Time Forgot

Even while time is passing all around the world, it seems to have stood still in Holland. Or rather stopped. I think at one point, time may have been on fast-forward here in social terms in that Holland was, briefly, a liberal, open and tolerant society. That is certainly the reputation it has garnered worldwide and how the country and Dutchies like to market themselves.

But it's like a Victorian seaside resort proclaiming that it offers the most entertaining holiday imaginable. Trying to lure people with donkey rides and Punch and Judy shows, while everyone's gone to Las Vegas or a spa in the Maldives.

I accept that Holland did, historically, embody some liberal values. But the world has grown up, moved on, and overtaken it.

Miss Holland

2006-09-17T14:44:00.000+03:00

The Miss Amsterdam contest has ended with one woman being crowned winner at a lavish ceremony at a kebab shop in Rembrandtsplein. She will now go on to represent the country in the Miss World contest, embodying all the cultural and social values of modern Holland.

Round by round, the contestants were whittled down to the 3 finalists, each of whom triumphed in rounds such as speed-tanning; golliwog-making; and shoulder-shrugging.

A controversial note was struck when the second runner up declined her award and officially withdrew from the contest at the final stage. This woman, who had originally settled in Holland from Indonesia at the age of 4, walked away, having had enough of the Parish Council's members' requests to fetch them drinks and clean up after the other contestants. The final straw appeared to be the requirement that she wear a sash reading "allochton"* for the latter stages of the competition. When asked why she hadn't been made to wear this from the outset, the Parish Mayor confessed he had thought she was a member of the janitorial team until guest judge, the Mayor of Minsk, had corrected him.

Perhaps recognising that the allochton tag might be a bit crass in 1806 - sorry, I meant 2006 - the runner up was chosen specifically for the fact that she demonstrated values of multiculturalism and openness. The crowd oohed and aahed as they heard her speak about her travels beyond the parish limits. A modern day Vasco da Gama, not only had this woman been to places like Harlem and Amstelveen, she had in fact travelled the world! She had visited exotic countries like Germany and Belgium, having been to both Antwerp and Cologne on day trips from Amsterdam!Although she readily admitted that she didn't much like either place and was glad to get back to Amsterdam Parish, the crowd was captivated by her intrepid tales of exploration to lands few of them had even heard of.

And the winner? A woman who had quickly become the darling of the Parish Council with her sweet nature and deferential admiration for all the utterances and pronouncements of the Council's members. Agreeing that she simply "wouldn't worry her pretty little head" about things too much, she shared the waffles and cakes she had baked and giggled as the Mayor of Minsk winked at her. There was one challenging moment when a reporter from a foreign newspaper asked her how she felt about the statistic that, although women make up 40% of the Dutch workforce, fewer than 1% occupy senior management positions? But she disarmed the crowd by confessing that maths wasn't her strong point and, besides, she'd only go off to have babies anyway, so she could completely understand.

* allocthon is an official Amsterdam Council classification of people as 'foreign' or 'not native'. Practically, Dutch people never call white North Americans or Europeans 'allochton', and it is reserved exclusively for non-whites, even those who have been born in Holland. Amsterdam Council resolved last week to continue classifying people in this way. The Hague Council voted to eliminate it some years ago.

Rules of Engagement

2006-09-13T15:10:00.001+03:00

Did you know that, outside Scandinavia, Holland has the highest proportion of single person households in Western Europe? And that the proportion is growing?

Psychologists, economists and anthropologists have speculated on the causes, but no consensus as to the reason has emerged. Could it be that Dutch people prefer a life of solitude and contemplation? Or that they are innately independent and prefer to strike out on their own? Or that an existence in which someone else might nick your last herring out of the fridge and never buy toilet paper is too gruesome to bear?

My own view is that it is becoming increasingly difficult for the Dutch to meet potential partners. How do single Dutchies meet their soulmates? At least the ones who don't marry their cousins, or the person from the next village over? Their options appear limited.

We've already looked at the restaurant scene, and the only conclusion can be that an invitation to dinner is more a prelude to a break-up, or punishment.

Partner 1: "Honey, I'm sorry, I've been having an affair."
Partner 2: "That's it! I'm taking you to dinner!"

What else is there? Maybe something cultural, like a trip to a museum or gallery? Again, this option seems fraught with difficulty. Most of the Rijksmuseum is still closed for renovation. The temporary Stedelijk building has Legionnaire's Disease in its cooling tower and one person has already died there. Even scarier, the Van Gogh museum costs €10!

Maybe a romantic stroll in the Fondlepark? Again - problematic. In Deep Winter, it will be pouring with rain and hail, and you'll be buffeted by gales. In Winter, it will be full of Dutchies having herring-barbecues and Grandpa's Dicks.

Hmmmm. Shopping? The catch here is that the nutjob proprietor will throw you out of the place if you try to.... er, shop. God forbid you're holding a cup of coffee.

I know! How about good old-fashioned bar hopping? Meet your soulmate over some warm beer and a boiled egg? Again, the service and hygiene issues mean that this route is not guaranteed to achieve the results you wish. Plus, when a Dutch person goes Dutch on a bill, abacuses and calculators are at the ready. That can kill the mood.

Maybe they could go digital and try internet dating? But have you ever called a Dutch internet service provider and tried to get a working broadband connection installed at your home in under 37 years? Exactly.

Titter, titter

2006-09-11T19:04:00.000+03:00

Dutch Comedian: Knock, knock!

Other Dutchie: Who's there?!

Dutch Comedian: You.

Other Dutchie: You who?

Dutch Comedian: You have a wife who is very ugly!

Other Dutchie: Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! HAAAH!

Ah - simple pleasures. Have you experienced Dutch humour? Still clutching your sides from the Mr Bean marathon they showed on your last klm flight? Or maybe your tummy hurts from chortling at the Benny Hill DVDs that have been passing around your office?

Dutch humour is very subtle. So subtle, that you could often miss it. By a mile.

We're not talking delicate, comedic insights here. It's a super-special, rarefied type of humour that is so understated and intangible, it often goes completely over the head of non-Dutchies.

Going to the barber the other day for a haircut, I noticed there were 3 other people ahead of me. So I asked the barber "how long will it be?" He said it would be around 20 minutes. "But on the other hand, it could be 21!" They all pissed themselves. The barber and other customers, chortling and guffawing, clapping their hands with glee. If only I could have thought of something equally witty, I could have felt included in their merry gathering - but alas, I had to leave defeated and dejected.

Perhaps I should have farted loudly to compete with their repartee? Because the surefire way to elicit a laugh from a Dutchie is to talk shit - literally. I've been at a meeting where, after a break, one Dutch colleague returned to the table from the bathroom, and pointed at another, announcing: "he has just done a big, smelly, shit - ho! ho! ho!" How we laughed at this Dorothy Parker-like epigram.

Interestingly, it is stupefyingly easy to wind up a Dutch person and watch how their face turns from 'you've got diarrhoea!' glee to stony-faced, cud-chewing, indignation. Simply turn the tables on them and make a joke about any aspect of Dutch life or culture. The tittering stops and the pious mooing begins, guaranteed within 15 seconds to induce an invitation to leave the country. It seems, as an expat, your choice is either to: (1) worship, venerate and unquestioningly adore every aspect of Dutch life; or (2) get the hell out. No room for anything in between.

Now that really is funny.

Dutch Disco!

2006-09-07T14:36:00.000+03:00

Have you seen the signs? All over shop counters and at kiosks? They're there if you look hard enough. If you can't see one, the Dutch person behind the counter will only be too delighted to point it out.

They tell you all the things that you can't do, have or get from your friendly Dutch service outlet. No change. No information. No credit. No tourist assistance. No stamps. No English. No clue.

What's even better is that if you ask a Dutchie for one of the forbidden fruits referred to in their charming signs, they point triumphantly at it. 'Look! It is not possshiboll to get change. It even shays sho!!!'

Combining two of their favourite things: (1) being unhelpful and (2) pointing instead of communicating, you will make a Dutchie's day by asking for something you can't have, and allowing them to point majestically at their sign, bursting with pride and satisfaction.

Depending on how many things you ask for, and the positioning of their friendly little signs, they can end up looking like demented disco dancers.

Black Pete

2006-09-06T14:49:00.000+03:00

Even the name of this posting sickens me. If there is anyone Dutch reading this, is there any way you can justify the Zwarte Piet situation? For those of you yet to experience it, in early December, Dutch people consider it entertaining to decorate their homes and businesses with golliwogs. They like to 'black up', wear afros, and dress like buffoons. There is a parade of hundreds of these 'Black Petes' throughout the centre of Amsterdam and, no doubt, other Dutch hamlets. It beggars belief, and is truly sickening.

Other countries could invoke their anti-discrimination legislation to prevent this carry on. Not that they'd need to. Society just would not countenance or tolerate it. Can you imagine a parade of black and white minstrels going down Fifth Avenue in New York or Shaftesbury Avenue in London? There would be justifiable uproar.

What is wrong with these people? It's bad enough that ethnic minorities are so marginalised and ghettoised in this country without having to endure the festooning of homes and offices with racist caricatures, and a parade through the town. What's next? Klansmen?

And spare me the whiny claptrap about it being 'traditional'. It was traditional for women not to be allowed to vote. It was traditional to live in caves and to have doctors tie a spider and walnut around your neck to cure cancer. (Okay, maybe that last one is still traditional).

New Amsterdam

2006-09-05T23:43:00.000+03:00

I just got back from New York. It was great to spend a few days in a modern, functioning, urban environment. Eating great, flavoursome food; mixing with different communities and races; receiving great service; experiencing an array of consumer choices; being allowed to drink coffee and shop - at the same time!

Somewhat surprisingly though, it felt weird not to be surrounded by Dutch people. The only time I encountered any was on the Staten Island Ferry. It's free, by the way.

Perhaps it was this sense of dislocation that drew me to an exhibition on the Lower East Side about life in New York under the original Dutch settlers? Did you know that the Dutch founded New York and that it was originally called New Amsterdam? Until the Brits kicked them out. I couldn't help wondering what life would have been like in New York if this hadn't happened and if the Dutch had remained in charge?

Visiting the exhibit led to an incredibly strong sense of deja-vu. It was like I had stepped back 400 years from present-day New York, right back to present-day Amsterdam. The rooms in the exhibit looked eerily like any doctor's surgery in contemporary Amsterdam - complete with rusty pliers and jars of pickled leeches. I could almost imagine hearing the figures in the exhibit whispering "it is not posssshiboll..."

Typical 17th century meals of potatoes and dumplings were shown. Obviously, they were not real food, but grey, lumpy copies of the real thing - again, uncannily like what's served in many of today's Amsterdam restaurants!

Stuffed dummies dressed in laughably outdated clothes were positioned around the display. As I stared into their vacuous, expressionless eyes, and waited for the dummies to move, however imperceptibly, I had to reassure myself I wasn't in a contemporary Amsterdam shop or cafe, waiting to be served.

So what if the Big Apple had, instead, become the Big Herring? How different would things be?

Al-turd Heijn

2006-08-29T00:43:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-28T10:54:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-26T13:41:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-25T15:01:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-25T12:08:00.000+03:00

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!

2006-08-24T10:28:00.000+03:00

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....

2006-08-23T08:23:00.000+03:00

...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

2006-08-21T11:28:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-20T12:33:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-19T11:02:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-18T11:48:00.000+03:00

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!

2006-08-17T21:50:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-16T12:45:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-15T16:59:00.000+03:00

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?

2006-08-14T13:21:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-13T19:56:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-13T12:37:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-12T14:05:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-12T11:49:00.000+03:00

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.....

2006-08-12T11:42:00.000+03:00

.....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!

2006-08-12T11:40:00.000+03:00

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!!

2006-08-12T11:38:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-12T11:36:00.000+03:00

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.