1-8-08

Way way way too long since last update. I can't count the number of times I've sat down with the intent of writing about all the things that have happened the previous but getting sidetracked with the multitude of events going on.

To put it simply, I've been the busiest I have ever been in the 26 years I've been on this planet. I'm not sure how it happened really, the job was going well and I was connecting with old friends but I needed to do more. So I found my old dance teachers to try and get back on the dance team (I used to dance salsa competitively). You know, to get back into the dance community. It turns out they needed another dance instructor for the new La Jolla studio (opening up Dec. 8th) and invited me to take instructor training, lots of ballroom classes and private instruction to bring me up to speed. So just about every waking hour I'm not working or sleeping (yes I can sleep while awake) I'm either dancing (amateur team, taking lessons, teaching) or en route to some dance event. And there are so many! Since I dance about 6 days a week in one form or another I've become quickly familiar with the local hot (and not-so-hot) dance spots.

But what else has kept me from updating, let's see. Oh yeah, I spent a few days in D.C. attending a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer conference that was awesome. There I was in a room full of people going through the same readjustment issues as I was, flipping out about traffic, fast food and hot water. Perhaps the strangest thing was meeting 3 other Vanuatu RPCV's at the conference. I immediately switched back into Bislama and started conversing, not even realizing that I was doing it. Our conversation went something like this (translated).

"Brother in law, how are you?"
"No, how are you?"
"No, I haven't seen you in a long time"
"Yes my brother in law, it is true we have not seen each other for a long time. When I saw you I thought you looked fat."
"Yes it is true I am fat now. But you are also fat! In fact I think you are more fat than me!"
" Haha, *expletive* I think you are right!"

So that was fun. We carried on for a little while longer, went to all the sessions and got caught up on all the gossip we'd missed out on. Later on I met up with some other RPCV's and took a tour of the D.C. monuments at night. I'd been to D.C. years and years ago with my family but had forgotten how everything looked, how European things resembled, and how the the area between the Lincoln Memorial and the reflecting pool was exactly like the view in Paris from the water fountain to the Eiffel Tower. Coincidence? Nope, they took the idea from Paris.

I got back home and some things happened. Can't really remember but that's because I don't have my journal on me right now and I record everything in there.

Right, Jenneric got married! For the uninformed Jenn and Eric (Jenneric, get it?) are two of my friends who met in Peace Corps Vanuatu and got married in New Jersey. I'd been looking forward to this wedding for a long time since it would be the first time I'd seen so many of my Peace Corps friends after leaving. Of course I wasn't disappointed, I arrived with my friend Katie and after some coordinating met up with what seemed to be 100 RPCV's, all cramped in two rooms, all drinking. The wedding was lovely, everyone looked great blah blah anyway at the reception there was a big kava bowl which was manned by my friend Joe. I'd heard that Jenneric had brought home about 10 kilos of kava and here it was, the vile elixir I used to drink every day for a year straight, smelling of fermented cucumber and tasting like mud and the silt from the bottom of the ocean. I don't remember how many shells I drank or how many people I got to drink with me or how I ended up supervising the drinking, but it all happened. And I have the photos to prove it.

8-20-07

It's been an emotional roller coaster recently. In the midst of job searches and studies, I found out I got the job with the (breathe) California Solar Initiative, working with the California Center for Sustainable Energy, formerly known San Diego Regional Energy Office (gasp).

To celebrate, my friends and I went to go see Vanilla Ice down at Canes. Yeah, the same Vanilla Ice we listened to in . . . elementary school? Was it that long ago? Ice only played for a little over an hour and he's really more Insane Clown Posse than his other alter egos, complete with evil clown props and lighting pulled from a disco palette. And if watching Vanilla Ice trying (horribly) to get them to take off their clothes was bad, he proceeded to plug his appearance on Country Music Television's "Celebrity Bull Riding Challenge." Reality TV gone horribly wrong.

Of course in the midst of all this excitement I managed to get a recall letter (after the concert, not during) for a specific product because the company, in their infinite wisdom, decided that infecting thousands of loyal chili-eating customers with botulism would be bad for business. Don't know what botulism is? It's what happens when bacteria thrive in what should have been a sterile (tin can) environment. Oh, and it turns you into a quadriplegic.

Fun!

Maybe that's why my stomach was flip flopping more than a presidential nominee.

Anyway I'm now working for the California Center for Sustainable Energy. It's a mouthful but I make it shorter by saying that I work for the CSI program in the CCSE. Of course no one knows what that is so I say I work with "solar energy". It's quick, like our attention span.

Truncating my job description wasn't so difficult after explaining where (or what) Vanuatu is, and in 60 seconds encapsulating 3+ years of Peace Corps experience. I swear, I've got it down to a few sound bites. And if I have my island photos it's that much shorter. Pretty much it goes something like this.

"So how was the Peace Corps?"

"Good"

"Sweet, I always wanted to join the Peace Corps. Maybe you can tell me about it and I can act like I know what you're talking about"

"Sounds like a blast, here's some photos I took while I was there"

"Hey, black people!"

Ok ok, so the people I work with are actually a lot cooler than that. Our director even knows where Vanuatu is, which is definitely a good sign. My coworkers genuinely care about the environment, going so far as to banning plastic bottles in the workplace and turning off lights while they're still in their offices. Genius! We have a flex-fuel van and host workshops about their free shade tree program, calculating energy use and offsetting electric bills with solar systems.

I've been working for a week so far and it's been interesting (I'm still kind of man-bush) to say the least, as has everything I've done for the past 7 months. It's all part of the process, like learning how to manage databases, multi task and order office supplies.

Offices have supplies? Since when!? Oh yeah, that was a Vanuatu office. At least this office has free tea, coffee and water. Free tea and coffee! The Vanuatu office had free water but it was hell of the stomach, a far cry from the gecko-floating well-water I was used to on Tongoa. Mmmmm, gecko flavored water.


Oh Paris, with it's small stuffed mice and temporary monuments. Again, no transition.

July 31, 2007

It's been a long time, too long actually. Since getting back a couple months ago I've gotten out of my "travel" routine which used to include lots of emails and frequent blog updates. But it comes with adapting to life over here. Luckily I've been keeping busy looking for jobs, schools and old friends to hang out with. It's funny how people change (or don't change) after I haven't seen them for so long. Some get married, have kids, gain weight, lose hair, gain hair, move on, stay put and do all the little interesting things that they find completely mundane. Of course to me all these "mundane" things are still as novel as ever, although I am starting to take running water for granted (damn). Luckily I still get a thrill out of seeing a gas stove light up.

For all you returning Peace Corps volunteers, don't expect any special treatment from Americans when you get home. I don't know how you're "readjustment" session in the COS conference but it's been pretty accurate for me. "Storian" is non-existent here, unfortunately. Maybe it's the lack of kava, the lack of aelan mommas making bunia, or the lack of fres win but laef i difren lelabet . Either way people don't know where Vanuatu is and spend about 15 seconds being genuinely interested in what you have to say before talking about politics or their dog. Not that I have anything against dogs at all. Oh, and if someone is talking about their dog don't mention that you're eaten dog before. Or that you really liked it. Or that it tastes like pork and chicken. They get all defensive like you're going to take their dog and eat it right in front of them. I never understood that really. I guess it's like being nervous around a cannibal, which doesn't make that much sense to me either.

I just got a cell phone this month and it's pretty cool. It can't get clips from the Daily Show or South Park like my brother's phone can but I can make and receive calls. Unfortunately since I haven't had a phone for so long I still tend to leave it at home, or in a room that I'm not in. I get to participate in my own 50m obstacle course whenever it rings, making a mad dash over furniture and around walls to try to locate it, then have to inevitably dig through a pile of clothes or papers to find it at the bottom. But it keeps me in touch (or on call, however you perceive it). If you want me to go through the next obstacle course, the number's (858) 531-8271. I haven't even started doing text messaging since it still kind of scares me and seems like the least amount of effort one can do to communicate. Then again, it takes so long to input each letter.

Since I spend a lot of time around the house and not wandering museums, dodging molten lava or killing edible animals, I've taken up running again. It's a great way to watch the rabbits running around at the local park, say 'hi' to all the dogs (determine whether or not they'd make good coats) and work on lowering my cholesterol which seemed to spike shortly after I got back home. I guess cooking with all that bacon fat and coconut milk isn't really that good for you after all. Now instead of making decadent, indulgent food I've gone back to what people in the Midwest call "That crazy California food" like tofu stir fry and roasted bell peppers. I didn't even realize how "Californian" I am until I started talking to my friend from Ohio about a certain kind of vanilla soy milk I enjoy with my organic cereal .

Of course amidst all the domestic pandering I've managed to get out and do a few touristy things. I inadvertently started following a band called "Red Pony Clock"(a 13 piece band complete with vibes and accordion), hanging out with an old theater friend (who believes he is Santa Claus) and enjoying all the local haunts of San Diego. I also took a stroll around Balboa Park, one of my favorite places in San Diego, where they have lots of museums and a botanical garden. Ok, so it's not Museumplein but has some works by Dutch painters. I also made it to our famous zoo where I managed to tear myself away from the binturongs (I want one) long enough to see the tigers, okapi and PNG pigeons (which we used to eat in Vanuatu).


The highlight so far has probably been spending time with Amanda, a girl I went to high school with and is now in Peace Corps Vanuatu. She came back for a couple weeks and we got together to practice Bislama and discuss all things Vanuatu: the food, the people, the school system, funerals, weddings (which are just as sad as funerals), other volunteers and the supreme courthouse that was recently burned, it even made it to the national terrorism page. And yes, that's kava we're drinking.

In some kind of anti-denoument, I discovered that my family had kept all the kava I sent home. Needless to say Amanda and I had a few shells and basked in the euphoric apathy that followed. I even made kava bowls out of coconuts I bought at the supermarket. After all my travels looking for kava (and discovering it's illegal in Singapore) it turned out to be right here (and growing at the San Diego County Fair).

How appropriate. I made a gift package for Amanda before she left and I started to get excited about it. I gave her all the things that I could have really used while in Vanuatu like strong plastic bags, instant pudding, magazines, gum and blank CD's. The only thing I was missing was quality dark chocolate in an airtight container but it's better than nothing. And the pudding was chocolate anyway.

I had a big surprise last week after mentioning to my friend that I wanted to go to Comic Con, one of the biggest media events on the west coast. What started off in the 70's as a bunch of nerds hanging out in a hotel basement is now an international affair where new movies are previewed, casts answer questions from fanboys (or fangirls), and people get dressed up in all manner of costumes ranging from simple eye makeup to complete cosplay antics. Anyway, I was asked by one of my acting friends if I wanted to take part in Comic Con by dressing up as an evil clown and terrorize innocent bystanders as part of a viral marketing campaign to promote the new batman movie. Did I want to help out? Heck yes! Following a secretive after-hours meeting and about 100 grams of grease makeup I was ready. But what was I ready for? The people in charge had been so secretive about everything we really didn't know exactly what we would be doing until the day of the event. We got it figured out in time to walk out of the Hyatt dressed up as the Joker's goons, ready to berate the convention goers and hand out clue-filled balloons. We looked like a circus version of the Reservoir Dogs and had a blast, insulting peoples' intelligence, making fun of Jedi's and handing out defaced 1$ bills. The funny thing is that even under our sweaty grease paint and business-casual attire we were some of the less freaky cosplayers present. Staff took lots of pictures, including some of me which were posted on www.whysoserious.com but the website has changed and I'm not longer up there in all my clown glory.

But we all looked like this


Oh hey, look what I found.

Unfortunately we didn't get to go into Comic Con itself since it was sold out and we were working outside but there's always next year. And the year after that. And the year after that and the year . . .

I wish the rest of my time here could be so eventful but unfortunately, we can't all be evil clowns all the time. I mean we can, but then we have to join the circus and learn to juggle.








Ah, Versailles.
No transition, just like the picture.

Wednesday, June 13th

Jesus Christ, has it been a busy two weeks. I swear it has been non-stop since the beginning. In the time it used to take me to schedule a community meeting I've applied for no less than four jobs, gone through all my old clothes, organized all the things I sent home, cooked about fifty times, driven on the freeway, and gotten my hair cut no less than three times. But more on the hair later. First I'd like to talk about my rude awakening to the debacle that is American Culture.

Let's start with the supermarket. Now I'd gotten used to supermarkets during my stay in Amsterdam and overcome my somewhat irrational fear of the multitude of choices. When I came back home I decided to take it nice and slow and do what I used to do in Port Vila: walk down every single aisle and look at every single item for sale. And that's what I did, I walked to the store and looked at each individual food item. It's fucking absurd. Who needs over 25 different brands of peanut butter to go with 36 different kinds of bread? Do we really need milk to be broken down by fat content in .5% gradations? Is someone going to have a stroke over 2% milk when they realized they had not purchased their normal 1.5% milk? I was fine shopping in other countries because I thought "Hey, I'm just passing through, it's not such a big deal. Just keep focused and buy the zucchini." But here it's absolute madness. Everything comes in low fat, low sodium, no sugar, light syrup, chopped, diced, whole, or masticated. And that's just the packaged food which I try to avoid like a rabid third grader with one eye. But at least they have lots and lots of vegetables, which are also huge and equally distracting.

After I exited the Albertson's of Perfidiousness and made sure my body hadn't gone into shock I decided to press my luck and check out the Target next door where my body did indeed go into anaphalactic shock. It's HUGE! All the progress I had made in desensitizing myself to food selection was nothing compared to the selection of everything else in the world for sale. As I was looking at DVD's with actors I didn't recognize I met the mother of a kid I went to high school with. I managed to stammer out a few sentences before getting uncomfortable and saying goodbye. As I walked home I was thankful there isn't a Walmart close to my house. I'm afraid I'll get lost in the store and be found dead weeks later next to the camping goods.

Shortly after my trip to the store and a few other equally traumatic experiences: freeway driving, seeing an old friend leave for Oregon, etc., I finally decided to get a hair cut. So like a complete idiot I made an appointment with a local stylist, thinking that she could cut men's hair that was over 3 inches in length. Unfortunately, American's (unlike Netherlanders) can't cut men's hair and keep it long at the same time. Why? Cause in Holland long hair is normal in guys, in the States it's a pre-existing condition that will deny you medical coverage. Since this woman cut about a centimeter off my hair the first time I went back hoping she would fix it.

I was so wrong. I walked out with a girls haircut but hey, at least I still had long hair. But I can't go walking around with hair like a girl so I got it cut again from someone else and now my hair looks better but is much shorter than I'd like. Whatever, I'll live. Then I saw the date and realized that in a parallel universe I'm actually sharing this time with someone at San Diego Zoo, laughing at the monkeys and recognizing the tropical flowers at the botanical garden in Balboa park. However, in reality I'm actually stressing over jobs and credit cards. And then I think about the stores, the movies, the shiny devices that beep, whir, and have flashing lights; all the things that distract us and allow us to put off dealing with emotions. There's a point to this rant somewhere but I think it got lost between the low-fat and the all-natural-old fashion peanut butter .

Home, I'm finally home.

After a total of 17 hours travel time since Amsterdam I'm finally back in Poway, in the same house that I grew up in but this time a few years older and a little wiser. Since I just got back yesterday in the evening I haven't done anything really typically American yet so no shocking photos of supermarkets or electronic stores. The one thing I will say is that I'd completely forgotten how nice it is to be with my family, not only have they been supportive the whole time I've been away from the States but have given me a week before asking me what I'm doing with the rest of my life (which is more than I can say for some of my other RPCV friends). Of course I feel like a complete retard in my own house, I don't know how to use the microwave anymore, operate the washing machine or the location of the plates in the kitchen. Hopefully this "Where the hell is X" won't last too long.

However, before I left Holland I did take Marije to Paris for a couple days and it was nothing less than amazing. Of course she'd been there a couple times already and knew the city better than I did but we managed to see the Sacre Couer, Eiffel Tower, Nortre Dame, a local market and have a relaxing picnic in the garden in front of the Louvre. But for a few days we just enjoyed the Parisian atmosphere, good espresso (well, at least I did), and better weather than in Holland (which isn't saying too much really). All in all it was just about perfect.

Leaving was tough, as it always is when you leave someone and don't know when you're going to see them again. We had plans to meet up in San Diego where I would show her around the Zoo, Balboa Park, the beach, La Jolla and other sights San Diego is known for. Unfortunately as it sometimes happens, things didn't work out. The distance, time apart and circumstances outside of anyone's control were too much to bear and she won't be coming out to visit . . . ever. It's sad, there's so much I had planned including staying with my family and cooking amazing curry. But life goes on. Luckily I have a supportive family and lots of friends who I've seen in the last week. I also have the future to look forward to which means applying for jobs, finding a new means of transportation, buying necessities and aimlessly wandering the aisles at the local Albertsons where there are no less than 22 different brands of peanut butter. Of course I have more to write about but don't really feel like it now, maybe later when I put up some photos.

After Dresden and Prague I took a train back to Amsterdam to spend some time with Marije and kill some time before Queens Day. Never heard of Queens Day? Me neither, but apparently it's a day where the citizens of Holland celebrate their Queen by dressing up in orange clothes and drinking copious amounts of alcohol, kind of like the Super Bowl but without the game and with orange clothes. Ok so it's not like the Super Bowl at all but I can think of few other dates in the States where it's appropriate to be drunk at 9:30 in the morning. Of course I wasn't one of those people but as I made my way through the Red Light district trying to navigate around many many people, having a few drinks started looking like a very good idea. So I did. The whole event was surreal, orange wig wearing Netherlanders on boats, holding spontaneous dance parties in the streets and beer tents every 10 meters. Every other person I talked to was from out of the country, another testament to the pull of the legendary coffee shops. One of the best things about Queens Day was the constant music. There were stages set up everywhere with DJ's spinning non-stop. I managed to catch a little of DJ Tiesto's set at Museum Plein but it was so incredibly crowded it was impossible to move so I left after only a little while. I ended up getting lost on the way back to the apartment but it let me see all the little road markets that make Queens Day a time to shop for um, antique candle holders and old Abba records. Wooooo Abba. But seriously, if you're in Europe around Queens Day get over to Amsterdam for a wild time.

The following day (not hung over at all) I jumped on a train to Paris, in an attempt to get some culture and end up broke and destitute. Cause that's what Paris will do to you, give you culture in spades and then take all your money, kind of like a mugging. Oh I'm not exaggerating. Have you ever paid $6.80 for a cappuccino? I felt violated. But enough about the costs, Paris is amazing. The first day I went to the George Pompidou building in part because we had a George Pompidou building in Vanuatu. But the one in Vanuatu doesn't really do anything while the one in Paris houses a number of art exhibits, including one on Samuel Beckett which I was this close to seeing. But as I was on limited time I opted to see the permanent Modern Art exhibit as well. I thought "Hey, I haven't been to a modern art exhibit in years". After 5 minutes inside the museum I remembered why I hadn't been to one in so long: it SUCKS! Yeah ok, sure some of it is interesting and in some circles passes for art but the rest, I'm sorry to say, is pretentious bullshit. Maybe I'm not hip enough to appreciate a sculpture of a stag having his way with a woman, or a canvas painted navy blue, or a tree composed solely of red-painted woolen gloves. I'm sure a paper mache monster covered in garbage would look great in the east wing of someone's McMansion but I don't know if it's really art. Maybe I'm too much of a square to "get it" or something olsem. But of all the thousands of exhibits only the ones by Phillipe Stark really earned my respect. Sure he may have sold his soul to Microsoft but his stuff is good.

Outside the George Pompidou there's a large pool with other modern and post-modern sculptures. I saw a collection of brightly colored ones near the back and though I saw a familiar face in Stravinsky Fountain. Holy hell, it was the Sun God! Straight out of UCSD! Ok maybe it's not really the Sun God but damn if it doesn't look almost exactly the same. Could it be that two different people made big Mexican birds on either side of the world at similar times? Nope, it turns out the sculptor of the Sun God, Niki de Saint Phalle, has exhibits in Stravinsky Fountain as well as UCSD. So either this or the Sun God is recycled work. Whatever, it's modern art. Of course I came to Paris for classical art. Luckily I had plans to meet up with Katie, a Vanuatu RPCV and explore Nortre Dame and the Louvre with her.

But before Nortre Dame I paid a visit to the Picasso Museum to see what they were showing, hoping that I would get to see Guernica, Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, or even Gertrude Stein. But noooooo none of them can be in the Paris museum! All I got stuck with were a bunch of mixed media mosaics, a horribly ugly iron statue and some self portraits. I was about to write off the museum altogether (like the George Pompidou) but at the very end something caught my eye. It was in one of the exhibits that showed off some of Picasso's private ancient art collection that inspired cubism. And what was there but a truly amazing kastam sculpture from South Malekula, Vanuatu. I stared agape, and actually asked out loud "What are you doing here?" drawing a look from the security guard. I couldn't believe it, Picasso of all people knew about Vanuatu back when it was New Hebrides. Awesome, suddenly it was all worth it. The craziest part is that I've seen a fair amount of the sculptures coming out of Malekula (even bought some) and have never come across something like this. It's not a death mask because it's too big and is hollow inside. I showed the picture to Katie and she too had never seen something like it. Atink hemi wan kastam samting be kastam i finis finis? Tawi, traen telem smol long samting ia!


I met Katie at the front of Nortre Dame and after exchanging pleasantries we went inside, and saw what is claimed to be the true Crown of Thorns. We looked and looked at the display but didn't see any crown. But there were plenty of other treasures to see, like old clothes. Inside Nortre Dame was quite pretty, but not as spectacular as I expected. Maybe it's because I've seen so many amazing churches including St. Peter's Basilica in Rome but I found the exterior of the Cathedral more interesting than the interior. I mean just look at the exterior, buttresses, gargoyles, a Rose window, it's all so Gothic. Luckily there weren't any Goths around the Cathedral.

The Louvre Museum in crazy, inspiring and totally BSI. And it's HUGE! No, no you don't understand. It has over 35,000 exhibits, 4 floors and houses some of the most important art works in history: the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory of Samothrace, Hermaphroditos Asleep, and other works that you never really bothered with in High School. And that's just a sample of the important art works, saying nothing of the Islamic pieces, Spanish, Dutch and other Italian works. The museum is intense, I found myself overwhelmed at times just trying to imagine the scope of the pieces it held. It was so much I went twice. At one point I started trying to imagine the net worth of the exhibits and then how much they were insured for, but I stopped before my head exploded.

I also found a sculpture that really touched me in a place few sculptures can. It's a statue of Minerva from the private d'Orsay collection. I fell in love with her poise and the organic folds of her cloak which looks to be made out of agate. She has a serene yet focused look of contemplation, confident stance and holds her (strangely cute) owl of wisdom. I don't know how long I looked at her, from all sides noticing the broken finger on her right hand. If the ancient Romans did anything right it's their art, even if they did steal if from the Greeks. To me this statue is archetypal and nearly everything I love in classical sculpture.

I have no idea what this statue is. It was in the Greek and Roman sculpture area but the bucket and copper don't seem that old. I personally think it's a woman getting spaghetti dumped on her head. Marije thinks it's a spaghetti, meat balls and petanque balls. I'm willing to meet halfway and call it an ancient documentation of the flying spaghetti monster playing petanque.







That night Katie and I had dinner at a local cafe after getting caught in the rain. Over a bottle of wine and a confusing food order, we caught up on everything: adjusting to western life, health issues, food, Europe, old gossip, new gossip, intimidating supermarkets, relationships, and the long arduous (sometimes intimidating) process of readjustment. Oh did we talk about readjustment. Basically it boils down to that it's impossible for other non-RPCV's to understand what we're going through, which is why it's so important for us Vanuatu people to hang out. It's not that other people don't want to understand, but after 3 years of adjusting to life overseas it will be a long time before I'm really "normal" again, not that I want to be normal anyway. But there are still things I have to get used to . . . like not eating food off of someone else's plate. When I finally get back to the States (May 28th) I'll have to start seriously thinking about going to school again, starting a career and developing some real life goals. Or maybe I'll go back to Vanuatu and husk coconuts for a while, at least there they don't have to worry about Roth IRA's.

Prague is cool man, groovy even. I came to Prague with the same expectations I come to with any new city: zero. I find if I go in with an open schedule (and open mind) I have a greater appreciation of the sights than if I were racing from one destination to another, playing the 'Let's see how many pictures I can take in one day' game. Don't get me wrong, I love taking pictures of interesting sights but it's not the goal when I roll up to a new destination; it's not like I'm Japanese or anything. Oh wait.

Anyway Prague is different, ancient architecture rises out of the landscape surrounded by modern buildings that just don't seem to fit. I walked around the first day just saying "Prague . . . Prague man, wow" and "You see that building? It's in Prague. That woman over there? Oh yeah, she's from Prague." I managed to see a Dali exhibit, a chocolate painting museum and a couple other art galleries that day. The view from Charles Bridge is absolutely incredible, as are the sculptures that adorn either side. The bottom of the statue of St. John has been worn away by so many people rubbing the relief of him getting thrown off the bridge that the bronze is completely polished and starting to get grooves in it, much like the feet of St. Peter in the Basilica in Rome. I don't know what it is about rubbing the feet of statues but it seems to be a part of the human condition, as people in Fukuoka rubbed the feet of Billiken too. Now Billiken has two grooves worn into his wooden feet, poor guy. It's tough being a deity, people want to rub your feet all the time. Wait a minute, that doesn't sound so bad.




Prague Castle is far out. The view of Prague from the area around the castle (including the royal garden) is nothing short of spectacular. I spent over an hour wandering around taking in the view and marveling at it all. The castle (one of the biggest in the world) also contains the Royal Palace (which was closed, faken!), St. Vitus Cathedral and a number of museums and exhibits, too numerous to mention. I highly suggest taking the 'Story of Prague Castle' tour although it is a little expensive.



Come to think of it, every museum I've gone to has been pretty good although expensive, except the Sex Machines Museum which is while not dedicated to James Brown, is dynamite, slightly disturbing and flat out hilarious at times. It's like the Amsterdam Sex Museum with all the "boring" parts cut out.




The story of Prague castle is long and a bit boring at times until you get to the end and they show a short movie of the crown of St. Wenceslas (from the Christmas carol, remember?) and the coronation cross. The crown is crazy, simply incredible. They have a replica but the film shows the real thing: a crown so extravagant it makes the sultan of Dubai look poor. I mean this crown is made of gold and covered with jewels big enough to choke on if you were to ever swallow one. I took a photo of the replica but it doesn't sparkle and make you go "Oooooohhh" like the real thing. The video of the crown also showed a special cross which was also used in the coronation of kings. Not only is this cross also made of gold and jewel encrusted but it's also supposed to contain pieces of the cross on which Jesus was crucified and other stuff that he had when he died like nails from the cross, the sponge that gave him his last drink (vinegar) and thread from a rope that did something special like pull his donkey or something.

After visiting the castle proper I watched a blacksmith working on making a piece of metal sharper on one end and ended up buying an iron cork screw. I hadn't bought anything from Prague yet and wanted something that would remind me of it but not a key chain or anything retarded like that. So I bought a corkscrew which should last me the rest of my life and is only slightly less retarded than a key chain. Did I mention it can also open bottles? It weighs about a kilo and can double as a brass knuckle if I ever get in a brawl after opening a bottle of Merlot, "I got your mahogany and black currant hints right here pal!" Mobile blacksmithing seems to be a lucrative profession in Prague because I saw another one making a horse shoe on one of the main streets. He was also selling these solid iron knives that were really sweet but I'd already bought my bottle opener and I knew if I bought a knife it would just sit on my shelf somewhere, which I would point to it when people came over and tell them it came from Prague, then have to show them on a map where Prague is (Czech Republic).

I went to St. Vitus Cathedral and was overwhelmed by it's sheer size and amazing stained glass windows. I immediately wished I was Catholic so I could appreciate it that much more. Of course when I saw Ankor Wat I wished I was Buddhist and when I saw the Sistine Chapel I wished I was Catholic and when I visit the Dresden Frauenkirche I wished I was Protestant. What I really wish I had after seeing all these religious land marks is a degree in Religion. Not that you need to be religious to appreciate these temples of faith, but I think it helps. Anyway St. Vitus is huge, intimidating and even has a crypt underneath, the perfect ingredients for a horror movie (get on it, Jose!). St. Winceslas is even buried in the church as is someone else important because he there is a HUGE silver tomb right in the back. Ok, the tomb is for St. John Nepomuk, the same guy who got thrown into the river off of Charles Bridge. One of the best parts of St. Vitus is the view that you get when you ascend the South tower. One must climb over 400 steps inside a painfully narrow spiral stair case to reach top, which becomes difficult because half of the people who try to make the journey are clearly not in the best of shape. Going up I was behind three sweating Italian guys and in front of two beautiful panting Spanish women. I was living someone's fantasy I'm sure, but not my own. I kept saying "Come on!" when we stopped for the fat people coming down the stairs or when we stopped when someone in front had to take a cigarette break. But the view at the top was worth it, and coming back down I went so fast I got dizzy.


The next day (or maybe the same day) I went to a small art gallery which was showing off the works of Viktor Safonkin, a Prague surreal artist who received the Dali Award for painting really crazy paintings. I managed to take a picture of the best piece in the room before the guy playing solitaire on his computer said it was not possible for me to take photos of the pictures. Not possible? Well I just did didn't I? Unfortunately I don't know the name of the painting but am trying to find it out. All I know is that's it's downright crazy and leads me to believe the man does LSD on a regular basis. Ok, the painting's called 'Army of Irritation.'



In my wanderings I also found a place that sold cannabis iced tea. The website for it is www.c-ice.cz but unfortunately it's in some language other than English so I'm at a loss. I didn't try it so I can't comment on its effectiveness. But the shop claimed to have sold thousands of cans of it already so it must do something. I'm sure if I search hard enough in Amsterdam I can find it.



I left Prague by train an spent the night in Berlin. I could have left at 6 am and spent the whole day traveling by train but the thought of getting up at 5 wasn't too appealing. I arrived in Berlin with enough time to walk around so I thought I would swing by the Ka-De-We, the biggest department store in the whole of continental Europe. I had been there before and marveled at their selection of prepared meats and thought I'd try to grab a cappuccino there. Well, imagine my surprise when I found an enormous cue in front of the store filled with people dressed up like gangsters and flappers straight from the roaring 20's. At first I had no idea what was going on, then I saw the Spanish people on stilts and really had no idea what was going on. Look, one even has a violin case with cash coming out! Because nothing says 1920's like a instrument case full of uh, fake money. But he looks happy and is on stilts, who am I to judge? I thought about trying to talk my way in but then realized that not only were these people dressed up like the 20's but most of them looked like they were old enough to remember what it was like back then. I wanted to walk up to one and ask what they thought about Capone and his cronies.

Wow, Dresden is probably one of the coolest places I've been to yet. Not only have a lot of the buildings been rebuilt since the carpet bombing of WWII but some of them are also incredible museums. Today I went to the new Green Vault museum and saw so many things, all of them treasures, all of them worth more money than I'll probably make in a lifetime. Not only is there the green diamond (made green from exposure to radiation while it was forming, sick!), but amazing clocks, lathed ivory pieces, a ship made out of ivory and golden wire (holy crap!), a magnificent tea and coffee set that was never used and a square meter recreation of the royal palace in India. In fact, a lot of the things in the museum were never used or meant to be used because they are too fragile or elaborate. Of course they didn't let anyone take photos but we all know I took some anyway. Unfortunately the connection here is quite slow so none for now. But man, everything was beautiful, especially the miniature ivory carvings and cutlery that had red coral for handles. I could honestly go on and on about the cherry stone with over 100 faces carved into it, or the hollow octagons of ivory with stars inside. Unfortunately I couldn't buy a ticket for the old Green Vault since it was sold out.

As for the food, I have come to the realization that most Germans survive on a diet of meat, bread and beer. Surprisingly the ones I see walking around aren't all that fat like the ones I saw traveling SE Asia. Of course those Germans are probably sitting behind desks and not walking around. Still, the typical German diet seems to have little to no fiber at all, I haven't even seen all that much sauerkraut.

No photos this time, will have to put them up later.

Arriving to Berlin was an event that almost didn't happen. Although I thought I gave myself plenty of time to get from Annmarie's to the Central Station in Amsterdam, over an hour, it turned out to be only just enough. Thankfully I had my Eurail pass so all I had to do was run to the platform, scan the schedule to make sure it was the right train and jump on. 6 hours later I was in Berlin.

Unfortunately the next night I was robbed of 150 euros as I slept in the hostel. Yeah it finally happened. Statistically it was only a matter of time but I'm normally quite careful with my money, it was even in my bag under my bed when it got taken. Luckily they only took the euros and left me my credit card and ATM card so it's not a total loss. And they left my my Eurail pass which is great, cause I would have probably killed someone if they had taken that. The local Universities just finished up their Spring Break or whatever the hell they call it over here and they were mainly students in the dorm room, so it was probably some retarded student who mistook the floor under my bed for his parents top drawer. It's possible, people make mistakes all the time. The thing that tears it is that I know exactly when it happened during the night.

But besides losing all my cash at hand Berlin is great, I've seen so many museums it's been a whirlwind of antiquity. Thus far I've seen the head of Nefertiti, classical Greek ceramics, Warhammer 40,000 statues, sex carvings, SS uniforms and parts of the Berlin Wall. I was also able to buy a small chunk of the Berlin wall from an old couple on my walking tour which in my opinion, is about as authentic a memory as you can get.

It turns out that Berlin has its own Sex Museum, and right by my hostel. How convenient! It's not as extensive as the one in Amsterdam but at least they had a fairly good exhibit on Asia, even including all the infused rice wines I've been tasting throughout SE Asia. So that was fun, going by they displays and saying to myself ' I've drank that, that, that, not that, that . . .' I wonder if anyone heard me.

I have learned more about German history and seen more of Berlin in a few days than I had planned, thanks in part to the day tour that I took. It was with Insider Tours and for a 4 hour walking tour covered a lot, skimming the surface on places like Hitler's bunker, the Soviet War Memorial and other important monuments that can be covered in a day. I felt guilty for spending such little time at internationally recognized places like Checkpoint Charlie, but that's why I have 5 days here to go back and fully appreciate them. Having said that, 5 days is definitely not enough time to explore this city. Of course, unless you live in Bridgeport (population 836) 5 days probably isn't enough time to explore any proper city. There's also a huge plaza called the Sony Center in Berlin which is less than a decade old and houses lots of restaurants, and IMAX theater and a normal theater where they show movies in their original language. I got to see '300' in English, something I've waited a long time to do. I'm going to restrain my fan-boy urges and just say that it's the most entertaining movie I've seen in years . . . which isn't saying all that much when you think about the kinds of movies I saw in Vanuatu like 'Red Scorpion' and 'Rambo', god how they love their Rambo in Vanuatu. Sure 300 isn't completely true but what Hollywood movie isn't? And it's based on a graphic novel, inspired by a movie based on actual events. And as it's a Frank Miller graphic novel, the visual style is of course going to take some liberties and be bat-shit-insane (which I will be abbreviating to BSI from now on for the sake of brevity). I would just love it if Frank Miller and Greg Capullo worked on a book together. I would have said Miller and McFarlane, but they already did one and are doing another.

Today I went to the Berlin Zoo to see Knut, the new polar bear that is shown twice daily. I waited in the que like the rest of the people and was in the next group to see him. Then 30 minutes before he was scheduled to go back inside Knut left. What? I managed to see the top half of him leave as the German guy in charge said Knut wasn't feeling well and had to go inside. He also wouldn't be making another appearance today. So that sucked as Knut has become a kind of reunification bear, bringing East and West Berliners together like the World Cup did. I spent the rest of the day wandering around the zoo finding all my favorite animals. There was no binturong however, cause they are my all-time favorite animal. Their name means 'bear cat' so that makes them a cross between the king of the jungle and godless killing machines.

Tomorrow I leave for Dresden for a couple days and then Prague. I know little to nothing about either of those cities except that Dresden got fire bombed to hell during WWII and Prague . . . I know nothing about Prague. People say it's cool but I still have to read about it in my Eyewitness Guide book.

Unfortunately the only donuts I found in Berlin were Dunkin' Donuts which are tasty, but not what I was looking for.

Bodies and the Sex Museum (warning, graphic shit ahead)

Today was strange. It started strangely as I woke up with a killer headache that I had somehow acquired during the night. Within minutes I sneezed I was brutally reminded how bad headaches can get when you quickly move your head. I tried to remember how your brain can hurt even though it feels nothing but soon forgot as I got up to get coffee. The ápartment Marije and I were staying at, Annemarie's has this awesome Senseo coffee maker where you load a coffee "pad", press two buttons and you have a hot cup of love. Apparently everyone has one of these things in Holland but I still think they're absolutely amazing. I now look with disdain at normal drip coffee.

After a lazy morning of deciding which museums to visit today I caught the number 5 tram and saw Marije off at her stop. While she's working I will be exploring Berlin and then hopefully meeting up with her sometime next week after she moves into her apartment. After her station and continued to the Amsterdam Central Station and found my way to the Bodies . . . The Exhibition, which is different than Bodyworlds (as seen in the latest James Bond film). I had previously stumbled upon Bodyworlds on the internet months ago and though that this was what I was going to see in Amsteram. Of course Bodies the Exhibition is still bat-shit-insane, and I have the pictures to prove it. Yes they don't like people taking photos inside because they want you to buy the book at the end. Of course we already know how I feel about not taking photos when I already pay to see the exhibits.

The Bodies exhibit is a laid out a little differently. As a traveling exhibit everything is laid out on one floor with temporary walls, drapes, tactfull and signs telling you where to go to see the next wonder of anatomy. And these things are wonderful. Maybe it's our fascination with death, immortality or the macabre but these bodies captivate and enthrall. Perhaps so many people are drawn to these cadaver shows because of the immortality achieved in death, the plastination process completely replaces the water in the bodies with polymer (plastic) ensuring that they will never decay. The result is a muscle or organ that is slightly pliable but feels like rubber or thick plastic. At the end of the exhibit you could feel a liver preserved this way. The pretty woman letting me touch the liver asked if I had ever felt a real one before. I smiled, thinking back to my days on the island and replied "Oh yes, I have." I suppose that may have seemed a little creepy but I did handle a lot of livers. All the bodies are diplayed with the utmost respect which is funny, since the majority of them come from China and may have been acquired through no quite legal means. The funny part is that you can still tell they are (for the most part) Chinese.


But I'm getting ahead of myself. one of the first diplays was an entire human skin, laid out under glass. Anyone who has seen Silence of the Lambs or knows anything about Ed Gein will recognize this. I thought the fact that the face is covered was intriguing, hinting that maybe the rest of the displays wouldn't be so graphic. I was wrong.





The next display showed a man holding hands with a skeleton . . . his own skeleton. WTF!? They somehow deboned the guy like he was some kind of huge fish and he and his skeleton. It looks they they opened the hole in his chest, reached in and pulled it out all in one like a Mortal Kombat fatality.

"Chief medical examiner . . . finish him!"
"Okay let us begin the dissection. Bone saw, chest expander, scalpel . . ."

Hey I can dream.

Perhaps Amsterdam wasn't the best place to have this kind of exhibit as magic mushrooms are readily availible. It was at times like these that I'm glad I don't do drugs. Of course, no one living in Amsterdam actually smokes or does drugs, it's just all the English kids who come over for Holiday. Some of the Dutch people I've spoken to have never even tried the ganja. It makes sense of course as I've never tried cigarettes even though they're legal here. Anyway, the displays at Bodies are artistic but more than a little grotesque, I love it. I mean, holding hands with your own skeleton, just sit and think about it for a second. Ready? Ok.



The whole exhibit is set up in different sections, one for the muscular system, vascular system, nervous system, etc. It was in the part on the nervous system that I found a complete central nervous system beautifully preserved. I had to stop and marvel at the CNS, something I had studied for 4 years in University. Here it was, complete with eyes looking like something out of Robocop 2 where they do the same thing with Cain. Apparently the brain is the hardest organ to preserve as it tends to shrink during the plastination process.

In the circulatory section there were many diplays of the various blood vessels of the body, many looking like corral. They were all inside clear liquid-filled cases which added to their mysteriousness. The skull with blood vessels was cool, the torso incredible and the finale, an vascular system of an entire body is just, well look at it. Go on, click on it and notice the arteries of the neck, the network of veins throughout the body. They all look so delicate.














The majority of the exhibits are cadavars posed in ways to show off particular organs, muscular systems, etc. Unfortunately I only got a slightly blurry one of a female showing off her reproductive system.




At the end was a cadavar sliced into small cross-sections, much like the data from the Visible Human Project, a copy of which I saw in the Daejeon Museum of Technology in South Korea. Except these were real cross-sections of a human body and the one in Daejeon was on a computer.


In case you want to donate your body to plastination here's all you have to do.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The procedure to donate your body for Plastination after your death is as follows:

Read the information brochure on DONATING YOUR BODY FOR PLASTINATION carefully.

Fill in this form in duplicate.

Sign both copies of the form

Sign the body donor identity card.

Send the completed documents and ID card to Gunther von Hagens (see address below).

Witness signatures on the forms are optional,but may help make this gift effective if there is any questions at the time of your death.

If your relatives object to you donating your body for Plastination, you may wish to also have a lawyer witness your signature on both forms.

We will countersign one of the forms and return it to you by way of confirmation. You should retain the countersigned copy with your personal files, or give it a relative or your doctor for safe keeping. We will also laminate your signed body donor identity card and return it to you.

You should carry your body donor identity card with you at all times. You may withdraw your consent to donate your body at any time, by sending us a letter, signed by you, stating that you have withdrawn your consent. You need not provide a reason for withdrawing your consent.

Your consent will be deemed withdrawn as soon as we receive your signed letter. In case of death, the nearest embalming facility that works under the guidance of Gunther von Hagens should be contacted. The nearest embalming facility can be identified by reviewing the separate “Embalming Information Sheet” that will be provided to you and regularly updated as the US body donor program expands. Updates and other body donor information are also available on the “body donation” link of www.bodyworlds.com.

Your contact details
Last Name
First Name
Date of Birth :
Place of Birth
Street
City
State, Zip Code : Phone
Fax
E-Mail
Cell Phone
Body Donation Program for – Donor‘s consent – Please send your completed forms and any questions you may have to:
Dr. Gunther von Hagens
c/o Georgina Gomez
North American Body Donor Office
PO Box 34001, Granada Hills, CA 91394
You can also contact the IfP body donation program at bodydonation@plastination.com with any questions.
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After all these bodies I felt a little more mortal. So I decided to hop over to the Sex Museum and see what there was to see. Well, there's a lot to see, made even more surreal by the fact that my head had started to pound. The museum itself is like a maze, with multiple floors, corridors and lifesize models. It was all very educational except for the really weird and twisted parts. I didn't take any photos because frankly, what's inside the Sex Museum should really stay in the Sex Museum. Sure the little ivory carvings of huge penises were funny as were the small bronze sculptures of couples fornicating, I almost took a picture of a copulating Shiva to display as a Buddha having intercourse. But having the memory is so much better than actual evidence in my opinion. I also don't want to die and have these the last photos on my camera: a satyr having sex with a nymph. One of the more interesting parts were all the vintage pornographic photos of the bondage gear of the 1920's. Somehow they missed that part in U.S. History in high school. And I found the inspiration for all the tentacle sex in Japan, in old pornographic Japanese scrolls.
In case you ever decide to visit the Sex Museum there's a small room in the back lableled "Marquis de Sade". I suggest you steer clear of this room . . . or head straight for it, whatever you're into. There's even a disclaimer, saying that the displays may disturb you and that they don't want any complaints. It was great listening to people in there, exclamations of "That's a real picture!"and "Oh God, that's not normal!" They were all true. As I left, a large student group of British 15-16 year olds came in, cameras out and ready. They were only at the introductory hallway and they were already saying things like "Ewwww" and "It's so graphic!". I really wanted to shadow them or even show them the room in the back with the fetish photos and zoophilia but my head was really hurting and I can only take so much porn, as well all know from my exploits in Osaka.

I decided not to visit the Van Gogh museum today although it was in the plans. Instead I went back to Annemarie's, checked out hostels in Berlin and took a much needed nap. And I wrote all of this of course. I'm not sure when my next entry will be as I leave for Berlin tomorrow where internet is not free. I may do a quick one or just wait till I get back in Amsterdam. It depends on how much I do in Berlin. Maybe I try to find the donuts there.

A few days ago I went to Dordrecht to visit two of Marije's friends, Ingrid and Nikos, and celebrate Easter with them. Of course this was no ordinary Easter this was Greek Easter, which just so happens to fall on the same date as normal Easter. What this means I don't quite remember. What I do remember is that Nikos is from Greece and he made an amazing meal (with help I assume). There was Greek salad, tuna salad, rolls, grilled lamb (yes!), eggs boiled in wine, stuffed grape leaves, tzatziki (hell yes!), and ouzo (which is a bit like pastise). All my Peace Corps friends will remember that pastise had a major role to play in creating the Adam Kane policy of no hard alcohol at PC events. I'd never had ouzo before but I'm willing to eat anything and this includes alcohol. After not even a glass I was laughing, talking about Japan and eying the roasting lamb like a wolf. The last time I had Greek food was when I and some friends made it in Port Vila so I was on the edge of my seat to try some of the real stuff. I was not disappointed in the least, and as we moved from ouzo to the wine I asked if I could make a calimocho, my favorite (and only) wine cocktail consisting of half red wine and half cola. As always, I was met with surprised faces and doubt but I went and made it anyway and gave everyone a taste. Some liked it, some didn't but Ingrid's father had about 4 which was a surprise because he doesn't even like red wine. I had about 4 plates of food, 1.5 glasses of ouzo, 2 calimochos and ice cream. To finish I brought out 2 of the 3 Cuban cigars I've been taking around the world with me, but never found the right time to light them. We even got Ingrid's Mom to try one. I love it when old people try new things.

The following day Michiel (Marije's brother) picked me and Marije up and drove us to Rotterdam to see the Euromast which gives an amazing panorama of Rotterdam including the harbor, Erasmus bridge (also called the Swan) and the Cube Houses which are freaking rad. It's incredible, in a few square kilometers you can spend at least a day just wandering around and looking at the modern architecture, and we didn't even get to the zoo. Afterwards we had a drink at the Hotel New York which was the head office for the first cruise line from Holland to New York. It's very expensive to eat there (it's expensive EVERYWHERE in Holland) but we only had tea, coffee and an appetizer plate with bitterballen and some other fried food.


That afternoon we went back to Michiel's house (after a small episode with a lost key) and I made a pasta dinner. No wait, "pasta dinner"sounds lame. This was a fucking Pasta Dinner! with farfalle covered in a home-made bacon tomato sauce with roasted red peppers (which Marije prepared) and fresh garlic bread. Yeah, I just kinda threw it together and it absolutely rocked. If you have never made a pasta sauce with bacon I say get off your high horse and start really living. Bacon fat is probably the best thing to cook with since duck fat or lard. I'm not joking.


The next day Marije and I went back into the city center of Dordrecht, her to get her hair styled, and me to get the first proper hair cut since I was oh . . . 7. I know it doesn't sound like much but getting a real hair cut was an experience. Not only did they cut and style my hair but my side burns, until yesterday I had no idea one had to style their sideburns. Anyway, in the last week I have gotten new clothes and a haircut, something that would have taken me 3 years back in the States. The only thing I have to replace now is my shoes which are falling apart and stink like 2-day old carrion, on a good day. Luckily no one takes their shoes off inside the house. Anyway, after the haircut we went to a small restaurant and ate poffertjes, which go great with beer. Hell, everything goes with draft beer, even . . . more beer!


The city center of Dordrecht is quite historical, complete with really tall buildings, canals and steam boats. It's all very old and quaint, preserved quite well from the Golden Age of Holland. In case you fell asleep in AP European Civ, the Golden Age of Holland was when the Dutch ruled the oceans, were the world's wealthiest nation, and founded New York (known as New Amsterdam at the time). You don't think "Harlem"got its name from an Indian chief did you? How about Brooklyn? Break into small groups and discuss.

Today we went into the city center of Amsterdam and I bought a Eurail Pass so now I have 15 days that I can travel on the trains here for up to 2 months. Yeah it's pretty expensive but since "youth" get a special deal on the Eurail Pass and 25 counts as "youth", I got the lower price! Hooray being 25! Suck it old people! Afterwards I bought an Eyewitness travel guide for the whole of Europe, now I have lots of places to visit and a little under 2 months to visit them. First up on the list is Berlin where I can hang out in a beer garden and take in some history. From there it's off to maybe Prague, Budapest, Munich, who knows.

Before we left back to Ann-Marie's I raced across the street to get a picture, proving I was indeed in Amsterdam.
Because nothing says "Amsterdam, biatches!" like standing in front of "I Amsterdam" with new clothes (normal jeans!) and haircut.

Tomorrow it's off to see preserved dead people at the Bodies Exhibition.

The last week has been a maelstrom of activity. Firstly I went with Marije to Amsterdam to see the canals, eat some Dutch food and take a small tour of the city which is infamous to people everywhere. To clear everything up right now, no we did not smoke pot, get arrested or try magic mushrooms. Not that I am into any of those things but as an American all I had heard about Amsterdam was that there were canals and pot. That's it, sad isn't it? Of course in the real Amsterdam there are canals quite comparable to Venice, at least 10 amazing museums and a great tram system. Ok, maybe mass transit isn't the most interesting thing but I for one appreciate it.

We took a canal tour around which stopped off at museums to pick up tourists. I had the opportunity to see a Botel 'Boat Hotel' and the largest floating Chinese restaurant in the whole of Europe. The voice-over in the boat spoke quite highly of its Cantonese cuisine. It practically screamed 'Hey, we sponsor this canal tour!'

After the canals we went to the area where Marije will be moving into her new apartment this month. What I didn't know was that it is right next to a great open-air market. It doesn't get more European than this folks, there are stalls for clothes, shoes, cow hides (Yes!), anti pasta, cheese, and all types of things for locals. I had the chance to try the raw herring which I know, sounds a bit off but is really really good, comparable to raw tuna. I never thought I would ever compare raw herring to sashimi, but then again I never thought I would be referred to as 'short'; welcome to Amsterdam! We also had Vietnamese lumpia (some kind of spring roll) and a small waffle. All very good, all very Dutch. I even got Marije to try the raw herring since she had never tried it before.

Later we went to Dordrecht to visit her parents which, under normal circumstances, would be daunting endeavor to undertake in the States. However, after the train ride and finding their house my worries proved to be for nothing as her parents are extremely nice and made me feel right at home. Of course it was someone else's home and not my own so despite her father telling me to act as I did at home I didn't. It wouldn't do well to sprawl out on the couch, flip through the TV channels and raid the refrigerator. But even while on my best behavior (helping with dishes, offering to take my shoes of in the house, cooking Thai food for them) there are subtle cultural differences that became evident. Of course these differences may seem more pronounced since I haven't spent any considerable time in a real Western house in say oh, 4 years. The Pango house in Vila doesn't count, not because it was a very spartan Western house but because I say so and it makes the story more interesting. I also wasn't dating the volunteer I shared the house with. Like I said, the small things like closing the bathroom door when you leave may be American as well but I've forgotten those little things and never really paid much attention to them in the first place. It's possible that living in hostels and hotels for the past 4 months has made me a little more man-bush than before. And Dutch houses are clean, tidy and gezelligheid (don't even try to pronounce it). Luckily Marije got me a book explaining Dutch culture so I knew these things before hand, though it doesn't make it any easier.

Whatever, it's nothing I can't handle. Riding a bike into the city center of Dordrecht was harder. In Holland everyone rides their bicycles everywhere. And I can see why, they have their own lanes, not like bikes lanes in the States with a white line separating you from instant death but real lanes and their own traffic lights. I kid you not, traffic lights with little green and red bicycles on them for 'stop' and 'go'. It was great except I haven't ridden a bike since Ayuthaya and before that I hadn't ridden on in say, a decade. Marije had to ask if there was something wrong with the handlebars as I was wobbling all over the place, into the other bike lane, into buildings, etc. The seat was also a little high but couldn't go down any lower and something was wrong with the gear system. Regardless, we spent the day shopping (yes family, new clothes! And normal-people jeans!). I haven't bought new shoes just yet because even though mine are ugly and the seams are coming out in some places, they're still good. Later on I had the chance to drive her brother's car (manual, yes!) and her father's motor-scooter. It wasn't as hard as I imagined and make me want to ride a motorcycle when I get back to the States.

And of course it wouldn't be a trip to Holland without windmills. We went to Kinderdyke and saw a lot of windmills. At first I thought that back in the day they must have milled a ton of flour but then I learned that the windmills were used to pump the water into the river to reclaim the wetland. The windmills aren't used anymore for pumping water as they have electric pumps for that. But some people live inside the windmills which I think is way cool.




Oh and before I forget, here's the pie Marije's Mom made me.
It's all gone now, and for good reason. There are raisins in there.


I haven't had pie like this in . . . ever!

Go on drool, you're allowed.