I took some pictures of Danish tractors for the little Nephews. (Hi, Judah!) Then, when I got back, I looked them up to see if there were any interesting things to know about Danish tractors. (Hej, Jacob!) (That's Danish for hello!) I actually didn't find that much about Danish tractors; they have less nationalist pride about this than the Czechs do. (Grüße, Gershom!) (That's Swiss German for hello!) They do, however, have a really big tractor-related program. (Hallo, Isaiah!) (That's Dutch for hello!) They do tractor races. It is called Danish Tractor Pulling. (Dobrý den, Otis!) (That's Czech for hello!)
This is what Danish Tractor Pulling is like. I have no idea why the announcer is speaking French. This does not seem like a very French kind of sport to me.
If you go to this video, you can watch a video with English commentary so you can find out about all of the kinds of stuff that goes on in Tractor Pulling.
And, if you go to this link, you can see what happens when things go wrong. For the record, this is not really the way you are supposed to drive tractors. I bet that if you drove a tractor this way, you would get into even more trouble than if you just drove the tractor into a tree and then made funny jokes about it. (That is a story you should ask Uncle Samuel about. It's a good one.)
Showing posts with label Languages. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Languages. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
Klompen!
I thought that I would interrupt the Denmark series with a quick side note on klompen--aka wooden clogs!
I was talking to one my Dutch colleagues and she said that that particular stereotype is based on reality. She said that until 15 years ago or so, city workers putting in streets still wore wooden clogs because they were so much better at protecting toes from shovels and things than boots available at the time. People only stopped wearing them because they were forbidden from wearing them by statute when the state determined that boots had become safer.
If you go to the market and to tourist places, you can get fancy, brightly painted clogs. I had assumed that these were solely for tourists. Apparently, however, real Dutch people did wear fancy painted clogs, it was just that they were for Sunday wear. They wore plain, unpainted clogs for everyday.
I was looking up more information about clogs--I figured that if farmers and other folks still wore clogs, they probably did not buy them from tourist shops so I wanted to see what "real" Dutch klompen were like. I found a website that sells them. The Klompenmakerij Traas (the Traas Clog Manufacturers) have been around for over a hundred years. If you click here, you can go to their English language website where you can find a little information about their history and about how they make clogs. You can also buy clogs from them, if you want. The traditional clogs that they sell cost less than half of what the touristy ones cost in the store.
As an interesting side note, when you go to the website, you can choose to view it in English, Dutch, or Zeeuws. Zeeuws is the traditional dialect of the Zeeland region of the Netherlands.
Since my only potential genealogical connection to the Netherlands is through a immigration officer's misspelling of Zeelander to Selander, this means that I feel an especial connection to that clog company and to that language. So I tried to read it in Zeeuws. I could not, which was sad.
On the map on the right, the blue bit of the map is the area where Zeeuws is spoken.
One thing which has diminished my own personal interest in trying Dutch clogs is that the Dutch have a specific word for the top of the foot. My Dutch colleague and I were talking about whether clogs were comfortable or not. She said that they really weren't at first--they caused a lot of pain on the . . . And then she stopped and said she didn't know what the English word was which meant the top of the foot. Clogs really rub on the bovenkant and are painful until a callus forms. I am not entirely certain I really want to go through the pain of forming a giant callus along the top of my foot. I am also concerned that the pain would be significant enough to encourage a whole nation to make up a whole, special word for what is being hurt. It seems suspect.
I was talking to one my Dutch colleagues and she said that that particular stereotype is based on reality. She said that until 15 years ago or so, city workers putting in streets still wore wooden clogs because they were so much better at protecting toes from shovels and things than boots available at the time. People only stopped wearing them because they were forbidden from wearing them by statute when the state determined that boots had become safer.
 |
| (I didn't take this picture but it was specifically allowed to be used on the internet.) |
I was looking up more information about clogs--I figured that if farmers and other folks still wore clogs, they probably did not buy them from tourist shops so I wanted to see what "real" Dutch klompen were like. I found a website that sells them. The Klompenmakerij Traas (the Traas Clog Manufacturers) have been around for over a hundred years. If you click here, you can go to their English language website where you can find a little information about their history and about how they make clogs. You can also buy clogs from them, if you want. The traditional clogs that they sell cost less than half of what the touristy ones cost in the store.
As an interesting side note, when you go to the website, you can choose to view it in English, Dutch, or Zeeuws. Zeeuws is the traditional dialect of the Zeeland region of the Netherlands.
Since my only potential genealogical connection to the Netherlands is through a immigration officer's misspelling of Zeelander to Selander, this means that I feel an especial connection to that clog company and to that language. So I tried to read it in Zeeuws. I could not, which was sad.
On the map on the right, the blue bit of the map is the area where Zeeuws is spoken.
One thing which has diminished my own personal interest in trying Dutch clogs is that the Dutch have a specific word for the top of the foot. My Dutch colleague and I were talking about whether clogs were comfortable or not. She said that they really weren't at first--they caused a lot of pain on the . . . And then she stopped and said she didn't know what the English word was which meant the top of the foot. Clogs really rub on the bovenkant and are painful until a callus forms. I am not entirely certain I really want to go through the pain of forming a giant callus along the top of my foot. I am also concerned that the pain would be significant enough to encourage a whole nation to make up a whole, special word for what is being hurt. It seems suspect.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Snert
Snert is split-pea soup. (And, as far as I am concerned, is the far superior name.) It is a traditional Dutch food that is very popular, in the winter especially. When the Erasmus Student Network had their International Student party and had a buffet of traditional Dutch food, snert was one of the six dishes served. You can buy canned snert in the grocery store.
In Rotterdam, there is a tourist tram, called the "Snerttram" on which, for around $20, you can ride around the city for an hour and a half, listening to a guide, and eating a tasty-warm bowl of snert. This is one of things I wanted to do but I never got around to it and, now that it is getting up to 60 degrees during the day, it just doesn't seem as special anymore. In the summer, they have an Ijsjestram instead (where you eat ice cream as you go around the city) but somehow that just doesn't seem as special, either. For one thing, the graphics just cannot be as good:
Dutch folks love their snert. And, apparently, so do Dutch babies. I was about to watch a video on You Tube and a commercial came up. It is the most adorable commercial ever. I will say, however, that while they captured my interest they failed in the primary aim of commercial: that is to say, in product identification. The commercial didn't really put the name of the product in until a few second before the end and, as a not very slim Dutch speaker, it wasn't enough time for me to figure out the name of the company or of the product.
Well, after quite a few minutes of looking up "Dutch snert baby food commercials" on Google and of starting up various You Tube videos hoping to find the same commercial, I finally found it. And here it is:
It is so very, very Dutch. When the mother is coming with the soup, she says "Special soup for my little Superman!" (playing off of the super/souper homophone pun) and then the tag line is "The first soup for your Superhero."
Olvarit seems to be the Dutch equivalent of Gerber. One of their tag lines is "better than homemade." Apparently they do a lot of cute baby commercials. When I was searching for this commercial, I ran across this collection of "a day in the life of Jip en Job" commercials. Jip en Job is the Dutch equivalent of Sven and Ollie.
You don't really have to know what they are saying to get the jist of the commercials. Poor little Jip (the blond one) is getting "Brand X" baby food, instead of the Olvarit that Job gets, and suffers the unfortunate consequences of his mother's bad choices. (In Dutch, by the way, Js are pronounced like Ys, so when the "babies" talk, you can hear them saying "Yip" and "Yope".)
In Rotterdam, there is a tourist tram, called the "Snerttram" on which, for around $20, you can ride around the city for an hour and a half, listening to a guide, and eating a tasty-warm bowl of snert. This is one of things I wanted to do but I never got around to it and, now that it is getting up to 60 degrees during the day, it just doesn't seem as special anymore. In the summer, they have an Ijsjestram instead (where you eat ice cream as you go around the city) but somehow that just doesn't seem as special, either. For one thing, the graphics just cannot be as good:
 |
| (This picture comes from a Rotterdam tourism website.) |
(Are you chuckling to yourself over my little misstep, there?
"Slim", in Dutch, means clever, or smart. If you make a silly mistake, you can
say "Niet zo slim, mij, eh?" So that is a reference to the state of my Dutch
understanding, not to anything else.)
Well, after quite a few minutes of looking up "Dutch snert baby food commercials" on Google and of starting up various You Tube videos hoping to find the same commercial, I finally found it. And here it is:
It is so very, very Dutch. When the mother is coming with the soup, she says "Special soup for my little Superman!" (playing off of the super/souper homophone pun) and then the tag line is "The first soup for your Superhero."
Olvarit seems to be the Dutch equivalent of Gerber. One of their tag lines is "better than homemade." Apparently they do a lot of cute baby commercials. When I was searching for this commercial, I ran across this collection of "a day in the life of Jip en Job" commercials. Jip en Job is the Dutch equivalent of Sven and Ollie.
You don't really have to know what they are saying to get the jist of the commercials. Poor little Jip (the blond one) is getting "Brand X" baby food, instead of the Olvarit that Job gets, and suffers the unfortunate consequences of his mother's bad choices. (In Dutch, by the way, Js are pronounced like Ys, so when the "babies" talk, you can hear them saying "Yip" and "Yope".)
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Gevangenpoort Museum
When I was at Den Haag, I went to the Gevangenpoort Museum. This is one of the places that has been at the top of my list of places to see since I read about it, before I even came to the Netherlands. It is the old royal prison and has been turned into a museum. It is supposedly so gruesome that they have a warning on the website that it is not suitable for children under the age of 9. However, they also advertise the museum as a great place for children's birthday parties, so maybe they just tone down the gore, depending on age. (You can see the English language museum page here. However, it doesn't have nearly as much information as the Dutch language page which you can see here.)
The museum is really closely guarded, although I am not exactly sure why. You can only go through with a guided tour, in small groups, and you are accompanied (and herded) by a security guard with a walkie-talkie. It seemed a little like over-kill but maybe people get lost in there. (Also, you weren't allowed to take any pictures, so this will be a boring post.)
The tour was only offered in Dutch but they had a little booklet in English which had a little paragraph about each room, which made it easier to follow along. The guide was excellent (and spoke very clearly, as well) so I was able to follow most of what went on. There were five in the group, besides me. A guy and his high-school age daughter and a lady with her two boys. The boys were probably around 10 and they were both well-informed and very fascinated with the museum. The guide would ask them questions about different famous individuals who had been imprisoned in one of the "fancy" cells and they seemed pretty knowledgable about all of those 17th century fellows as well as about Dutch prison history, generally. They asked a lot of questions as well, which the guide seemed to enjoy--about the number of prisoners, how many people had died, what kinds of tortures were used, etc. They didn't seem phased by the museum's official warnings about the danger of gore for kids.
The prison walls were made with 2x6s laid on their sides, which, I imagine, really made it impossible to dig your way out. The main cells were about 12'x12', with the kind of toilet where the hole in the floor dropped straight to the sewer canal which ran underneath the prison. (The boys thought that was pretty wonderful.) These cells could hold up to 15 people and had no light or heat. The guard turned out the light while we were in there and, even in the middle of the day, it was pitch-black. I imagine that it would not be a fun place to be. They had fancier cells where richer people could stay, in rooms by themselves, but where they had to pay for their own room and board. The monthly cost for one of those cells, according to the guide, was twice the average yearly wage for working class folks of the time. There was also a special room set aside for female inmates. The stairs were all wooden and there were little narrow hall-ways and stairs that went all over the place.
By far the biggest hits, though, were the torture chambers. There were two. One, in the attic, was a torture chamber but also served as the place of execution for women who were to be hanged. There were largish windows which looked down onto the public square outside and female criminals would be hung in front of the windows because, apparently, officials were afraid that if women were hung on the street level scaffolds like the men were, people would look up their skirts.
There was also a display of a set of branding irons. People guilty of different crimes were punished by branding on various parts of their anatomy (thumb, hand, shoulder, etc) depending on the crime. The figure of the brand, though, depended on the municipality which was punishing you. For instance, if you were convicted of robbery in Leiden, you would be branded (on the thumb, I think) with the crossed keys which are the symbol of Leiden. If you got in trouble in Den Haag, you would be branded with a figure of a stork holding a snake in its beak, which is the symbol of Den Haag. The museum had a collection of a couple dozen of these brands and the two boys were able to identify most of the municipalities (I only knew Leiden and Den Haag). I don't know if they had just made a collection of these brands for the purpose of the museum or if the prison had had the set originally so that they could mete out punishment on behalf of the other municipalities if needed.
The basement torture chamber was fairly gruesome. They had the pincers they would use to rip off bits of people and more little stoves and branding equipment. What was really terrible, though, was that the walls and floors were all lined with Delft tiles, so it was really pretty in there. The guide said that the tiles were mis-fires from Delft and were therefore note sell-able so they were given to the prison. The prison needed them (in just this one room) because they were easy to clean. That strikes me as both very practical and really awful.
It was really a terrific museum and a terrific tour. If I go back to Den Haag (I probably will) I will probably see if I can squeeze in another visit, since I get in free with my Museum Card.
By the way, the name Gevangenpoort means "Gatehouse"--it looks like a gate house and, I believe, it used to be a gate into the city ages ago. However, "vangen" also means "to catch" or "to capture". So, either it is a really terrific coincidence or it is an excellent pun. Also, if you click here, you can see the Dutch Wikipedia article on the Gevangenpoort and it has pictures. (I forgot to take a picture of the outside.)
The museum is really closely guarded, although I am not exactly sure why. You can only go through with a guided tour, in small groups, and you are accompanied (and herded) by a security guard with a walkie-talkie. It seemed a little like over-kill but maybe people get lost in there. (Also, you weren't allowed to take any pictures, so this will be a boring post.)
The tour was only offered in Dutch but they had a little booklet in English which had a little paragraph about each room, which made it easier to follow along. The guide was excellent (and spoke very clearly, as well) so I was able to follow most of what went on. There were five in the group, besides me. A guy and his high-school age daughter and a lady with her two boys. The boys were probably around 10 and they were both well-informed and very fascinated with the museum. The guide would ask them questions about different famous individuals who had been imprisoned in one of the "fancy" cells and they seemed pretty knowledgable about all of those 17th century fellows as well as about Dutch prison history, generally. They asked a lot of questions as well, which the guide seemed to enjoy--about the number of prisoners, how many people had died, what kinds of tortures were used, etc. They didn't seem phased by the museum's official warnings about the danger of gore for kids.
The prison walls were made with 2x6s laid on their sides, which, I imagine, really made it impossible to dig your way out. The main cells were about 12'x12', with the kind of toilet where the hole in the floor dropped straight to the sewer canal which ran underneath the prison. (The boys thought that was pretty wonderful.) These cells could hold up to 15 people and had no light or heat. The guard turned out the light while we were in there and, even in the middle of the day, it was pitch-black. I imagine that it would not be a fun place to be. They had fancier cells where richer people could stay, in rooms by themselves, but where they had to pay for their own room and board. The monthly cost for one of those cells, according to the guide, was twice the average yearly wage for working class folks of the time. There was also a special room set aside for female inmates. The stairs were all wooden and there were little narrow hall-ways and stairs that went all over the place.
By far the biggest hits, though, were the torture chambers. There were two. One, in the attic, was a torture chamber but also served as the place of execution for women who were to be hanged. There were largish windows which looked down onto the public square outside and female criminals would be hung in front of the windows because, apparently, officials were afraid that if women were hung on the street level scaffolds like the men were, people would look up their skirts.
There was also a display of a set of branding irons. People guilty of different crimes were punished by branding on various parts of their anatomy (thumb, hand, shoulder, etc) depending on the crime. The figure of the brand, though, depended on the municipality which was punishing you. For instance, if you were convicted of robbery in Leiden, you would be branded (on the thumb, I think) with the crossed keys which are the symbol of Leiden. If you got in trouble in Den Haag, you would be branded with a figure of a stork holding a snake in its beak, which is the symbol of Den Haag. The museum had a collection of a couple dozen of these brands and the two boys were able to identify most of the municipalities (I only knew Leiden and Den Haag). I don't know if they had just made a collection of these brands for the purpose of the museum or if the prison had had the set originally so that they could mete out punishment on behalf of the other municipalities if needed.
The basement torture chamber was fairly gruesome. They had the pincers they would use to rip off bits of people and more little stoves and branding equipment. What was really terrible, though, was that the walls and floors were all lined with Delft tiles, so it was really pretty in there. The guide said that the tiles were mis-fires from Delft and were therefore note sell-able so they were given to the prison. The prison needed them (in just this one room) because they were easy to clean. That strikes me as both very practical and really awful.
It was really a terrific museum and a terrific tour. If I go back to Den Haag (I probably will) I will probably see if I can squeeze in another visit, since I get in free with my Museum Card.
By the way, the name Gevangenpoort means "Gatehouse"--it looks like a gate house and, I believe, it used to be a gate into the city ages ago. However, "vangen" also means "to catch" or "to capture". So, either it is a really terrific coincidence or it is an excellent pun. Also, if you click here, you can see the Dutch Wikipedia article on the Gevangenpoort and it has pictures. (I forgot to take a picture of the outside.)
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Comazuipers and Compulsory Insurance
The Netherlands is one of those places that has compulsory insurance laws. (Like the US is about to have.) Everyone is required to pay for health insurance and that insurance has to meet state mandated requirements for coverage. Anyone staying in the Netherlands for more than 3 months (the length of a tourist visa) is required to purchase health insurance and register their compliance with the state (including me). The problem with this, of course, is that there is no encouragement to behave in a way which limits one's liability. And, given the stereotype of Dutch culture, perhaps there is no surprise in the fact that the Dutch Ministry of Health is trying to figure a way around these artificial constraints on the market.
Earlier this week, one of the Ministers said that anyone picked up drunk, and taken to the hospital because of the advanced state of their inebriation, should be charged for their care. (The Dutch word is "comazuipers". Coma is obvious and "zuipers" apparently means "one given to habitual drunkeness".) Others in the Ministry argue that this isn't fair--that this is a slippery slope and that it will lead to habitual smokers having to pay if they come down with a lung disease and other people being forced to pay if they come down with diseases or ailments as a result of their voluntary behaviors. They found that quite offensive. I don't really have a problem with that myself. It does seem awfully hard on those poor folks, though, that they are forced to pay a rather steep governmental health insurance premium and then are forced to pay for their hospitalization as well.
In any case, it seems like an interesting exercise in the effect of the market and in the reliance placed on it even by officials who have deemed it ineffective.
The nu.nl website had this cartoon about the issue which seems to reflect a Dutch appreciation for policies which make perpetrators bear the cost of their own actions and choices. The caption says "Health Minister doesn't want drunks in comas to pay for themselves." The doctor says "Leeching off our tax dollars again, hey moron?!" (Except he uses an entirely inappropriate word. I had never seen it before and Google Translate wouldn't translate it. Then, when I typed it into Google, it didn't automatically look for it--it made me click to search. Apparently, when you look up vulgar things they make you do it very intentionally. Even if you do it by accident. My Google search history is starting to look really, really weird, right about now, after this and the lucifer thing) and then the other guy says "You have to keep talking to the coma patients. There's always a chance they'll hear you."
Earlier this week, one of the Ministers said that anyone picked up drunk, and taken to the hospital because of the advanced state of their inebriation, should be charged for their care. (The Dutch word is "comazuipers". Coma is obvious and "zuipers" apparently means "one given to habitual drunkeness".) Others in the Ministry argue that this isn't fair--that this is a slippery slope and that it will lead to habitual smokers having to pay if they come down with a lung disease and other people being forced to pay if they come down with diseases or ailments as a result of their voluntary behaviors. They found that quite offensive. I don't really have a problem with that myself. It does seem awfully hard on those poor folks, though, that they are forced to pay a rather steep governmental health insurance premium and then are forced to pay for their hospitalization as well.
In any case, it seems like an interesting exercise in the effect of the market and in the reliance placed on it even by officials who have deemed it ineffective.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Lucifers
Tomorrow I may have to ask someone "Heeft u nog lucifers?" Which means "Do you have any matches?" It seems fitting/very odd that matches are called lucifers.
First, I looked it up on Google Translate--it works pretty well as a dictionary-- and, after sorting through the 10 noun options for "match", it looked like "lucifer" was what I wanted. Then, I did a Google search for lucifer, just to see if Google Translate had given me the correct translation (I find that it is always best to double-check for alternate meanings--there are just so many ways you can get yourself into trouble, otherwise). I wanted to be especially certain with this because I wasn't sure that my Dutch would stand up to explaining what I meant if there was translation problem and I asked some nice grocery-store clerk if she had any demons.
What I failed to take into consideration was that this made for a really odd Google search.
This is what my search results looked like. (I did some redacting. Who knew. Apparently, when you look up the devil, sometimes there are very inappropriate pictures. I wouldn't suggest doing it.)
But, see, right there at the bottom, circled? It's a match.
The top Wikipedia result for the search was also the devil. When I scrolled down a bit I found matches under the entry labeled "Lucifer (voorwerp)". Voorwerp means noun. Perhaps it means specifically "common noun", otherwise I don't see how that is really a very helpful distinction. In any case, this is, apparently, the correct word for what I want.
I may just ask if they have any "luciferboekjes" (matchbooks) instead and hope they direct me toward whatever kind of matches they happen to have and not toward the occult section.
First, I looked it up on Google Translate--it works pretty well as a dictionary-- and, after sorting through the 10 noun options for "match", it looked like "lucifer" was what I wanted. Then, I did a Google search for lucifer, just to see if Google Translate had given me the correct translation (I find that it is always best to double-check for alternate meanings--there are just so many ways you can get yourself into trouble, otherwise). I wanted to be especially certain with this because I wasn't sure that my Dutch would stand up to explaining what I meant if there was translation problem and I asked some nice grocery-store clerk if she had any demons.
What I failed to take into consideration was that this made for a really odd Google search.
This is what my search results looked like. (I did some redacting. Who knew. Apparently, when you look up the devil, sometimes there are very inappropriate pictures. I wouldn't suggest doing it.)
The top Wikipedia result for the search was also the devil. When I scrolled down a bit I found matches under the entry labeled "Lucifer (voorwerp)". Voorwerp means noun. Perhaps it means specifically "common noun", otherwise I don't see how that is really a very helpful distinction. In any case, this is, apparently, the correct word for what I want.
I may just ask if they have any "luciferboekjes" (matchbooks) instead and hope they direct me toward whatever kind of matches they happen to have and not toward the occult section.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Meeting the Czechs, part 1
When I was in Prague I got to meet different people and I had a really good time. The first night I was in Prague, I was the only person in the hotel. The second night, though, three other people came as well. They were older Czechs, maybe in their early 60's, friends who were coming to Prague for Christmas because they didn't have any family around. One of the ladies was also called Hana and the other two (a guy and a lady) had very Czech names with lots of Zs and Js.
I first met them when I back to the hotel after an evening out at the Christmas Markets. I came back to the hotel and, as I was going through the lobby into my room:
"Dobry den (hello)" said the guy.
"Dobry den" I replied in my best Czech accent. And then he started talking to me in Czech.
"I'm sorry" I said, "I don't speak Czech. Do you speak English?"
He shook his head. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch? (Do you speak German?)"
"Nur ein bisschen (only a little bit)" I replied. And then I went into my room. I heard them chatting in the lobby (which was right outside my room) and I decided to go sit in the lobby, have a cappuccino, make plans for the next day, and be sociable.
When I was finishing up, they invited me over and they produced a computer with a translating program. Then, with the Czech version of Google Translate, the overlap of my Dutch and their German, their few words of English, and lots of miming, we talked about politics, history, religion, and Czech culture for the next couple of hours. It was a lot of fun.
They were actually from near the town of Zlin, which is the area where the Andersons are currently working as missionaries. I had been reading in a guide book about the Czech Republic and knew that there were three cultural divisions--Bohemia (which was where Prague is), Silesia, and a third that I couldn't remember (it's Moravia). I was trying to think of good questions to keep up a good conversation so I asked if they were from the Silesian part of the Czech Republic. I figured I had a 50% chance of not looking like an idiot by mentioning Silesia and it worked out. (Although, considering the relative sizes of the regions, it was really more like a 10% chance) The guy was from the Silesian part, although the ladies were not. He was really impressed that I knew the name because they associated the term with religious differentiation rather than cultural or dialectical distinctions and he wondered why an American would know about a weird, tiny, fundamentalist religious minority in the Eastern Czech Republic (if you click here it will open up a new window with a map showing the regions of the Czech Republic). I blamed it on Dad and said that he had taught us a lot about religious history, which also intrigued them and they wondered if we were Catholic (they crossed themselves a lot to ask that question) and if Dad taught at a religious school or had taken holy orders.
The Czech folks had the doors to their rooms open and the guy had the soccer game on so that he could listen to it. At one point, the announcer started cheering and the guy shouted "Point". I asked who was playing and the ladies laughed and said that he didn't know and that it didn't matter. It was just whatever game they happened to have on at Christmas.
They also shared Christmas cookies--which were delicious. They had some that where exactly like Russian Tea Cakes--in the crescent shape and everything, although I think they used regular walnuts, not black ones--but they didn't call them "Russian". I looked them up, to find the real Czech name for them but all I came up with was "Vanilkové rohlíčky" which means "Vanilla Rolls". However, I don't think that is what they called them--the translator called the "Hell Hesky", or something like that (the translator had fairly frequent contextual issues) and now I can't figure out what they called them. Vanilla Rolls just sounds so boring. By the by, though, when I was looking for the name, there was a site that mentioned that the popularity of the name "Mexican Wedding Cake" rose during the Cold War, I guess in the same way that "Freedom Fries" became a not-so-subtle political statement.
I first met them when I back to the hotel after an evening out at the Christmas Markets. I came back to the hotel and, as I was going through the lobby into my room:
"Dobry den (hello)" said the guy.
"Dobry den" I replied in my best Czech accent. And then he started talking to me in Czech.
"I'm sorry" I said, "I don't speak Czech. Do you speak English?"
He shook his head. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch? (Do you speak German?)"
"Nur ein bisschen (only a little bit)" I replied. And then I went into my room. I heard them chatting in the lobby (which was right outside my room) and I decided to go sit in the lobby, have a cappuccino, make plans for the next day, and be sociable.
When I was finishing up, they invited me over and they produced a computer with a translating program. Then, with the Czech version of Google Translate, the overlap of my Dutch and their German, their few words of English, and lots of miming, we talked about politics, history, religion, and Czech culture for the next couple of hours. It was a lot of fun.
They were actually from near the town of Zlin, which is the area where the Andersons are currently working as missionaries. I had been reading in a guide book about the Czech Republic and knew that there were three cultural divisions--Bohemia (which was where Prague is), Silesia, and a third that I couldn't remember (it's Moravia). I was trying to think of good questions to keep up a good conversation so I asked if they were from the Silesian part of the Czech Republic. I figured I had a 50% chance of not looking like an idiot by mentioning Silesia and it worked out. (Although, considering the relative sizes of the regions, it was really more like a 10% chance) The guy was from the Silesian part, although the ladies were not. He was really impressed that I knew the name because they associated the term with religious differentiation rather than cultural or dialectical distinctions and he wondered why an American would know about a weird, tiny, fundamentalist religious minority in the Eastern Czech Republic (if you click here it will open up a new window with a map showing the regions of the Czech Republic). I blamed it on Dad and said that he had taught us a lot about religious history, which also intrigued them and they wondered if we were Catholic (they crossed themselves a lot to ask that question) and if Dad taught at a religious school or had taken holy orders.
The Czech folks had the doors to their rooms open and the guy had the soccer game on so that he could listen to it. At one point, the announcer started cheering and the guy shouted "Point". I asked who was playing and the ladies laughed and said that he didn't know and that it didn't matter. It was just whatever game they happened to have on at Christmas.
They also shared Christmas cookies--which were delicious. They had some that where exactly like Russian Tea Cakes--in the crescent shape and everything, although I think they used regular walnuts, not black ones--but they didn't call them "Russian". I looked them up, to find the real Czech name for them but all I came up with was "Vanilkové rohlíčky" which means "Vanilla Rolls". However, I don't think that is what they called them--the translator called the "Hell Hesky", or something like that (the translator had fairly frequent contextual issues) and now I can't figure out what they called them. Vanilla Rolls just sounds so boring. By the by, though, when I was looking for the name, there was a site that mentioned that the popularity of the name "Mexican Wedding Cake" rose during the Cold War, I guess in the same way that "Freedom Fries" became a not-so-subtle political statement.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Czech
Czech is a very difficult language. It is has all kinds of different sounds,
entirely different vocabulary, and a very different grammar. With Romance or German languages you can kind
of make educated guesses about a lot of words because English has derived so
many words from those different branches.
Since Czech is Slavic, though, it has very little in common with English
and I got a chance to experience a little culture shock.
Moreover, Czech, like Latin, has all kinds of spelling
variations for different declensions.
For instance, "one" can can be spelled "dva, dvě, dvou,
dvěma, or dvo" depending on context and the kind of sentence. I had hoped to memorize things like
"pork" and "tripe"
so that I could have an idea about what kind of food I might be ordering but
since the words can change pretty significantly, it became an exercise in
figuring out the root, ignoring the rest, and guessing like crazy.
Even when you figure out a word, trying to say it correctly
is pretty much entirely impossible.
Czech babies might be able to figure these things out but I sure
couldn't. Though to be fair, any
language in which "z" and "v" are words is really just
trying to be difficult. Czech also has a
lot of words without vowels. Apparently,
the way you sometimes say some of the consonants makes vowels unnecessary but
that just seems to be making trouble. I
looked in a few different places and I found two different sentences which are
entirely vowel free (they are tongue twisters so they don't make a whole lot of
sense).
"Strč prst skrz krk" means "stick a finger
through your neck" and
"Smrž pln skvrn zvlhl z mlh" means "a morel
full of spots wetted from fogs"
Being indefatigable, though, I determined to learn some
basic words to show my cosmopolitan nature and eagerness to be friendly. So I
wrote out things like "prosim" (please), and "dekuji"
(thank you) and "dobry den" (hello).
I worked on memorizing them and reviewed them on the plane over. And I made point of thanking people in Czech
when they gave me change, or handed me my room key, or held a door.
"Prosim," I would say, "prosim!"
It wasn't until about half way through my first day in Prague, when I looked up something else in my book, that I realized that I had mixed up my memorization somehow and had been responding to every little action with "please".
Thursday, December 8, 2011
December 5--Sinterklaas, Part Two
I was talking to a Dutch classmate about Sinterklaas and he told me a lot about Sinterklaas that I hadn't known before. (His name is Lars but he said that he was genuinely Dutch, he just has a Swedish name.) He said that Sinterklaas is a great holiday as long as there are little kids around.
As long as there are little kids in the family who believe that Sinterklaas exists, everybody gets presents and puts them in a bag and then gets a neighbor to ring the doorbell and then run away, leaving the bag of goodies on the doorstep. This wows the little kids--Zwarte Piet just left their presents and they almost saw him!--and everyone is happy.
Once everyone is all grown up and doesn't believe in Sinterklaas anymore, though, the holiday gets burdensome. Everyone gets everyone else in the family a little gift but (and this is the part that apparently the whole nation finds stressfull) you have to include a little heart-felt poem inside the presents as well. I had never heard of this before and was pretty intrigued. Well, after class, that very same day, I had to go pay my rent and, while I was waiting for my turn at the counter, I flipped through one of the newspapers lying on the table and what should appear but a comic strip about the stresses of making Sinterklaas poems! I couldn't take the paper with me and I havevn't been able to find the strip on the internet but I think it was called "Heinz de Kat" or something like that. In the first panel, Heinz sits at a table with a pen and some paper and says "This year I will get all of my Sinterklaas poems done ahead of time!" In the second panel, he hasn't written anything down and has little angry squiggles above his head. In the last panel, he is sitting in a bar, still looking grouchy and he hasn't written anything at all.
Lars said that you could find poem-making engines on the internet to make it easier. I looked it up and if you go here, you can find the "Sinterklaas Gerdichten Generator"--the Sinterklaas Poem Generator. It works pretty much by sticking the name of the person (and sometimes the type of gift) into a bunch of preset lines which seem to be primarily moralistic poems with a rhyming structure akin to "Roses are Red, Violets are Blue" but I suppose that you can't expect too much from a magical poem maker.
I made a little practice poem for Otis (the best name for Grace's little babykins if he's a boy) in case I were to get him a little teddy bear.
The best poem I found was:
Weet dat hij veel van Otis houdt
Uitvluchten laten hem Siberisch koud
Hij hoopt maar dat dit cadeau hem niet berouwt
Dit is een teddybeer voor een iemand met een hart van goud
(I dare you to try to sound it out. If you want to hear what it sounds like when I say it, you can click on this link below.)
The gist of the poem is something like:
Knowing Otis as he does,
Santa probably ought to leave him in Siberia.
So he hopes that he doesn't regret giving him this present:
This teddy bear is for someone with a heart of gold.
Poor little Otis. I am SURE that he deserves a teddy bear.
As long as there are little kids in the family who believe that Sinterklaas exists, everybody gets presents and puts them in a bag and then gets a neighbor to ring the doorbell and then run away, leaving the bag of goodies on the doorstep. This wows the little kids--Zwarte Piet just left their presents and they almost saw him!--and everyone is happy.
Once everyone is all grown up and doesn't believe in Sinterklaas anymore, though, the holiday gets burdensome. Everyone gets everyone else in the family a little gift but (and this is the part that apparently the whole nation finds stressfull) you have to include a little heart-felt poem inside the presents as well. I had never heard of this before and was pretty intrigued. Well, after class, that very same day, I had to go pay my rent and, while I was waiting for my turn at the counter, I flipped through one of the newspapers lying on the table and what should appear but a comic strip about the stresses of making Sinterklaas poems! I couldn't take the paper with me and I havevn't been able to find the strip on the internet but I think it was called "Heinz de Kat" or something like that. In the first panel, Heinz sits at a table with a pen and some paper and says "This year I will get all of my Sinterklaas poems done ahead of time!" In the second panel, he hasn't written anything down and has little angry squiggles above his head. In the last panel, he is sitting in a bar, still looking grouchy and he hasn't written anything at all.
Lars said that you could find poem-making engines on the internet to make it easier. I looked it up and if you go here, you can find the "Sinterklaas Gerdichten Generator"--the Sinterklaas Poem Generator. It works pretty much by sticking the name of the person (and sometimes the type of gift) into a bunch of preset lines which seem to be primarily moralistic poems with a rhyming structure akin to "Roses are Red, Violets are Blue" but I suppose that you can't expect too much from a magical poem maker.
I made a little practice poem for Otis (the best name for Grace's little babykins if he's a boy) in case I were to get him a little teddy bear.
The best poem I found was:
Weet dat hij veel van Otis houdt
Uitvluchten laten hem Siberisch koud
Hij hoopt maar dat dit cadeau hem niet berouwt
Dit is een teddybeer voor een iemand met een hart van goud
(I dare you to try to sound it out. If you want to hear what it sounds like when I say it, you can click on this link below.)
The gist of the poem is something like:
Knowing Otis as he does,
Santa probably ought to leave him in Siberia.
So he hopes that he doesn't regret giving him this present:
This teddy bear is for someone with a heart of gold.
Poor little Otis. I am SURE that he deserves a teddy bear.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
It's not easy being not orange . . .
I have discovered that, by some sort of massive sartorial oversight, I have arrived in the Netherlands without one one single piece of blaze orange clothing to my name. It is plenty tragic. The enormity of this problem was brought home to me as I was traveling home from Leiden Friday evening. The train was very crowded--surprisingly crowded, I thought, considering that one would have expected the rush hour to be leaving Rotterdam at that time of the day. But, as we went through more and more train stations, more and more people started to climb on and it got more and more crowded. Not only that, the closer we got to Rotterdam, the more orange people were wearing. Blaze orange shirts. Neon orange jackets. Bright orange fluffy earmuffs bigger than their heads. Blaze orange feather boas. Neon orange foam cowboy hats (apparently this is a real Dutch thing. I have no idea why). Bright orange jeans. I have run through my list of appropriate modifiers. Suffice it to say, everyone was very bright, neon, blaze, brilliant (hey, there's another one) orange. My giant blaze orange hunting jacket would have been perfect.
The reason for all of this orange, and for everyone heading to Rotterdam, was that the Netherlands were playing Moldova, in Rotterdam, in the EuroCup Soccer Qualifiers. The Dutch national soccer team is called the Oranjes (which means "oranges" (as in multiples of the color, not as in the fruit) and is pronounced or-an-yus). The Oranjes' fighting song is "Hup Holland Hup" (Go Holland Go) but, in looking for a good You Tube video it appears that most people don't even remember that part of the song and, instead, sing "Lo, lo, lo, lo, lo" to the tune of "Hup Holland Hup." The fact that many of the people in the videos appear to have been partaking freely of spirituous beverages may be one of the reasons no one can remember the words. If you go here, though, you can see a very short video of people wearing orange and funny hats, and forgetting the words to "Go Holland Go."
My very favorite Dutch football thing, though, is a picture of a guy that I found on a report from a big Dutch win over Italy a few years back. You can see the whole video here, if you want, but it is almost 6 minutes long and the reporting is all in Dutch (although it does have some pretty fun footage mixed in there). This photo, though, is priceless. This fellow seems pleased with the way things have turned out. His shirt says "We will make hamburger out of you" but I think it almost sounds better in Dutch.
Now, I am off to find something orange to wear.
(P.S.--"Gehakt" just means chopped. An alternate translation of the vest (or possibly a butcher's apron?) would be "We'll make minced meat out of you." However, if you are in the grocery store, looking at the meat section, hamburger is just labeled "gehakt" so that it is also a legitimate translation. Plus, I like it better that way.)
(P.P.S.--I am sure you are dying to know: the Oranjes won! Now they have to play some one else at a different qualifying match but they are the official winners of the group E qualifiers. Whatever that means.)
(P.P.P.S.--That win resulted in a lot of late night fireworks and carrying on. As near as I can figure, the stadium is 2 or 3 miles away from my house and I was still able to hear the chanting and screaming during the game.)
(P.P.P.P.S.--Now, I think that I know why the "van ze" is in a larger font than the rest of the font although, I will freely admit, puns are one of those things you probably need more experience to get for sure and it could be just to make the point more emphatic but, the Dutch name for Venice (which, as far as I can tell, is the most popular vacation place for Dutch folk) is "venitie" which is pronounced kind of like van-i-tse, which, especially if you are kind of drunk, could sound like a pun on "van ze" and, since this was a game against Italy, it is just possible that that was what he was going for. Or maybe he was just trying to make it fit width wise.)
The reason for all of this orange, and for everyone heading to Rotterdam, was that the Netherlands were playing Moldova, in Rotterdam, in the EuroCup Soccer Qualifiers. The Dutch national soccer team is called the Oranjes (which means "oranges" (as in multiples of the color, not as in the fruit) and is pronounced or-an-yus). The Oranjes' fighting song is "Hup Holland Hup" (Go Holland Go) but, in looking for a good You Tube video it appears that most people don't even remember that part of the song and, instead, sing "Lo, lo, lo, lo, lo" to the tune of "Hup Holland Hup." The fact that many of the people in the videos appear to have been partaking freely of spirituous beverages may be one of the reasons no one can remember the words. If you go here, though, you can see a very short video of people wearing orange and funny hats, and forgetting the words to "Go Holland Go."
My very favorite Dutch football thing, though, is a picture of a guy that I found on a report from a big Dutch win over Italy a few years back. You can see the whole video here, if you want, but it is almost 6 minutes long and the reporting is all in Dutch (although it does have some pretty fun footage mixed in there). This photo, though, is priceless. This fellow seems pleased with the way things have turned out. His shirt says "We will make hamburger out of you" but I think it almost sounds better in Dutch.
Now, I am off to find something orange to wear.
(P.S.--"Gehakt" just means chopped. An alternate translation of the vest (or possibly a butcher's apron?) would be "We'll make minced meat out of you." However, if you are in the grocery store, looking at the meat section, hamburger is just labeled "gehakt" so that it is also a legitimate translation. Plus, I like it better that way.)
(P.P.S.--I am sure you are dying to know: the Oranjes won! Now they have to play some one else at a different qualifying match but they are the official winners of the group E qualifiers. Whatever that means.)
(P.P.P.S.--That win resulted in a lot of late night fireworks and carrying on. As near as I can figure, the stadium is 2 or 3 miles away from my house and I was still able to hear the chanting and screaming during the game.)
(P.P.P.P.S.--Now, I think that I know why the "van ze" is in a larger font than the rest of the font although, I will freely admit, puns are one of those things you probably need more experience to get for sure and it could be just to make the point more emphatic but, the Dutch name for Venice (which, as far as I can tell, is the most popular vacation place for Dutch folk) is "venitie" which is pronounced kind of like van-i-tse, which, especially if you are kind of drunk, could sound like a pun on "van ze" and, since this was a game against Italy, it is just possible that that was what he was going for. Or maybe he was just trying to make it fit width wise.)
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Toevlucht Vinden--Finding Refuge
I was out walking on Friday and I saw this monument. It commemorates the bombing of Rotterdam by the Germans on May 14, 1940. The way that this is commemorated deserves its own post, and a little more research, because it is fascinating but I found this story first. In the map of Rotterdam that is printed on the stone below, the gray blob in the middle is the area of the city that was destroyed by the bombing and the fires that resulted. The line around the edge of the bombed out area was called the "brandgrens"--literally, "the fire border."
When I got home, I looked up the website that is listed on the monument--www.brandgrens.nl. It is the official Rotterdam website for an oral history and cultural memory project about WWII and it looks like it will be really interesting to look through. By accident, I stumbled upon a set of interviews with people who were living in Rotterdam when the Germans bombed the city and invaded the Netherlands. There are several interviews and I decided to listen to them because the subject sounded interesting and because it seemed like a good chance to practice my Dutch listening skills.
The second video I watched was an hour and a half long and was with Elizabeth Rippe. She was fourteen years old when the Germans came. At the beginning of the interview, she was asked what her family did during the war and she talked about reading the Bible and singing psalms. Later, she talked about memorizing the Psalms in school. She talked about what it was like living through the bombings, with the noises and the debris flying everywhere. When she was talking about how hard it was to breath with the dust, she sounded like she was choking just on the memory of it.
But what really struck me was when the interviewer asked how she and her family and those around them dealt with the trauma and the uncertainties that the war must have produced. She said that they read the Psalms. She remembered, as the bombs were falling, that they would open up the Bible and, every time, would read from Psalm 91. And fifty years later, she quoted what she had learned as a little girl:
She remembered people asking what was going to happen and what to do and where to turn and she remembered the answer: "Alleen God kan us help en God is nog bij"--"Only God can help us and God is still with us." And she cried.
At the end of the interview, she got out her Bible and read the whole of Psalm 91 and she looked up and she smiled and she said "I go here to find my refuge." "Is this still your refuge?" asked the interviewer. "Yes" she said. "Always, forever."
If you click here, you can see the section of the interview where Elizabeth Rippe reads Psalm 91. It is in Dutch of course, but you might be able to follow along anyways.
If you click here, you can see the English language version of the home page of the "brandgrens" page.
When I got home, I looked up the website that is listed on the monument--www.brandgrens.nl. It is the official Rotterdam website for an oral history and cultural memory project about WWII and it looks like it will be really interesting to look through. By accident, I stumbled upon a set of interviews with people who were living in Rotterdam when the Germans bombed the city and invaded the Netherlands. There are several interviews and I decided to listen to them because the subject sounded interesting and because it seemed like a good chance to practice my Dutch listening skills.
The second video I watched was an hour and a half long and was with Elizabeth Rippe. She was fourteen years old when the Germans came. At the beginning of the interview, she was asked what her family did during the war and she talked about reading the Bible and singing psalms. Later, she talked about memorizing the Psalms in school. She talked about what it was like living through the bombings, with the noises and the debris flying everywhere. When she was talking about how hard it was to breath with the dust, she sounded like she was choking just on the memory of it.
But what really struck me was when the interviewer asked how she and her family and those around them dealt with the trauma and the uncertainties that the war must have produced. She said that they read the Psalms. She remembered, as the bombs were falling, that they would open up the Bible and, every time, would read from Psalm 91. And fifty years later, she quoted what she had learned as a little girl:
"For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone."
She remembered people asking what was going to happen and what to do and where to turn and she remembered the answer: "Alleen God kan us help en God is nog bij"--"Only God can help us and God is still with us." And she cried.
At the end of the interview, she got out her Bible and read the whole of Psalm 91 and she looked up and she smiled and she said "I go here to find my refuge." "Is this still your refuge?" asked the interviewer. "Yes" she said. "Always, forever."
If you click here, you can see the section of the interview where Elizabeth Rippe reads Psalm 91. It is in Dutch of course, but you might be able to follow along anyways.
If you click here, you can see the English language version of the home page of the "brandgrens" page.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Het Laatste Dutch Cafe (The Final Dutch Cafe) and Dutch Cuisine
This Tuesday night was the final Dutch cafe. A couple of other students from my class came as well, to say good-by to our teacher whom everyone liked a lot. There was also one of the ladies who is in charge of the Language Training Center. She said that although the LTC won't be doing the Dutch Cafe anymore (at least for students) there is some talk of the Erasmus Student Network taking over and starting up a Dutch Cafe instead. Since ESN is the author of such events as "Cafe BED" (which runs from 10pm-4am every Tuesday, offers 1 euro drinks--the cheapest booze in the Netherlands, as far as I have heard--plus the occasional free shot, featured the delightful ad campaign "Will you go to BED with me?", and which is known for having inebriated students littering the floor in piles of vomit) I am guessing that the new Dutch Cafe might have a little different flavor from the old one. But I guess we will just have to see. Maybe I will have to see if I can weasel my way into the faculty and staff Dutch Cafe.
I asked about "Haave" (which was I word I couldn't translate from one of the windows of the Pilgremvaderskerk). They said that they weren't familiar with that word. However, there is a word "have" which means "creatures", as in all kinds of animals/living things. So it could possibly be translated as "Salvation for His creatures comes only from God in Zion" or something similar, which would fit with the creation of the Dutch State/reliance on God's providence/etc. in a Matthew 10:29 type way ("Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.")
Also, the cafe was nice enough to bring us authentic Dutch hors d'oeuvres/snacks, on the house, since we had been showing up every week. Everyone thought that was pretty nice, although since that was the last night, now it will look like we just grabbed the free food and ran. There were three kinds of snacks, all deep-fried, so you have to know they started out right. There were chicken nuggets that were just like McDonald's chicken nuggets (people seem to really like McDonald's around here). There were also small fried meatballs that tasted kind of like a slightly spicy curried chicken, but I don't know what the actual name of them is. The other thing was Bitterballen. I do not know what the name exactly means but it is kind of like a thick, white, sausage gravy, deep fried in a crumb coating. This makes it a little difficult to eat neatly. It also means that there is a MASSIVE quality difference if you get one when it is fresh and hot or if you get it when it is cooler and has started nastily congealing. However, Bitterballen (they are sometimes called croquettes) are ubiquitous. You can get larger versions of them in hamburger or brat shapes and then you eat them in a bun. They are pretty tasty but I don't think I could eat a whole sandwich made out of them. I saw some one eating one of the sandwiches and the inside gooey stuff was oozing everywhere and was not a very pretty picture.
I asked about "Haave" (which was I word I couldn't translate from one of the windows of the Pilgremvaderskerk). They said that they weren't familiar with that word. However, there is a word "have" which means "creatures", as in all kinds of animals/living things. So it could possibly be translated as "Salvation for His creatures comes only from God in Zion" or something similar, which would fit with the creation of the Dutch State/reliance on God's providence/etc. in a Matthew 10:29 type way ("Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.")
Also, the cafe was nice enough to bring us authentic Dutch hors d'oeuvres/snacks, on the house, since we had been showing up every week. Everyone thought that was pretty nice, although since that was the last night, now it will look like we just grabbed the free food and ran. There were three kinds of snacks, all deep-fried, so you have to know they started out right. There were chicken nuggets that were just like McDonald's chicken nuggets (people seem to really like McDonald's around here). There were also small fried meatballs that tasted kind of like a slightly spicy curried chicken, but I don't know what the actual name of them is. The other thing was Bitterballen. I do not know what the name exactly means but it is kind of like a thick, white, sausage gravy, deep fried in a crumb coating. This makes it a little difficult to eat neatly. It also means that there is a MASSIVE quality difference if you get one when it is fresh and hot or if you get it when it is cooler and has started nastily congealing. However, Bitterballen (they are sometimes called croquettes) are ubiquitous. You can get larger versions of them in hamburger or brat shapes and then you eat them in a bun. They are pretty tasty but I don't think I could eat a whole sandwich made out of them. I saw some one eating one of the sandwiches and the inside gooey stuff was oozing everywhere and was not a very pretty picture.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Language Barriers
There are some times where a little linguistic ambiguity is not a huge problem. Occasionally, the failure to communicate effectively can be entertaining, even enlightening.
Other times, you want nothing more than to be perfectly and clearly understood.
Like when you are about to undergo some delicate medical procedure.
Or when you get a hair cut.
I gave the kapsalon (hair stylist) this picture ('cause a picture is worth a thousand words, right? And that is a lot more words than I know in Dutch):
And got a haircut that is a cross between this and this:
They are not the same thing.
Ahhhhh, life.
Maybe it will wash out.
Other times, you want nothing more than to be perfectly and clearly understood.
Like when you are about to undergo some delicate medical procedure.
Or when you get a hair cut.
I gave the kapsalon (hair stylist) this picture ('cause a picture is worth a thousand words, right? And that is a lot more words than I know in Dutch):
And got a haircut that is a cross between this and this:
They are not the same thing.
Ahhhhh, life.
Maybe it will wash out.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
. . . and Again . . .
This Tuesday I went to the Dutch Cafe for a third time. I was the only student there again. It is a shame that more people aren't taking advantage of free Dutch language practice. On the other hand, though, it does mean I get loads and LOADS of practice. This time there were two of the teachers there--my teacher and the teacher who was there last week.
We talked about organic farming, needlework, home-ec and the "home-arts" schools that girls in the Netherlands used to go to instead of, or in addition to regular school, to learn how to make a home. We talked about when and why women's suffrage came to America and the Netherlands, milk and dairy product production in the US, how you say "butter" in Dutch, Dutch history, and the way that the Dutch Language program works.
(The "butter" question was important--I tried to find butter at the store on Tuesday and could not find it. So I asked a clerk who didn't speak much English. And I couldn't remember learning the Dutch word for butter, so I hoped that it might be similar to the French word (since, because of Napoleon, there is a fairly large incidence of French words in Dutch).
"Waar is de beurre?" I asked.
She looked puzzled.
"Beurre? Berrrre? Buuuurrrrrrrr?" I said.
She showed me where the batteries were.
Then I had a lightning flash of inspiration--the Dutch use the same word for margarine as we do. I could use margarine instead of butter or perhaps the margarine would even be stored next to the butter.
"Margarine?!" I asked triumphantly.
She looked puzzled and started talking to a customer standing in the check-out line.
"Markhgareen" said the customer.
"Ohhhhhh" said the clerk. And showed me were it was. It was next to the "boter".)
I could tell that it is harder to remember language things after not using them very often. I haven't gone to the library, or watched Dutch TV, or listened to Dutch radio in a while and I think that it showed in the fact that it took so long for me to come up with sentences. And in the fact that many of my sentences were grammatical nightmares. So, back to the Asterix and Obelix comic books and the dubbed over Sponge-Bob-Square-Pants television shows I go.
It's for homework.
I promise.
We talked about organic farming, needlework, home-ec and the "home-arts" schools that girls in the Netherlands used to go to instead of, or in addition to regular school, to learn how to make a home. We talked about when and why women's suffrage came to America and the Netherlands, milk and dairy product production in the US, how you say "butter" in Dutch, Dutch history, and the way that the Dutch Language program works.
(The "butter" question was important--I tried to find butter at the store on Tuesday and could not find it. So I asked a clerk who didn't speak much English. And I couldn't remember learning the Dutch word for butter, so I hoped that it might be similar to the French word (since, because of Napoleon, there is a fairly large incidence of French words in Dutch).
"Waar is de beurre?" I asked.
She looked puzzled.
"Beurre? Berrrre? Buuuurrrrrrrr?" I said.
She showed me where the batteries were.
Then I had a lightning flash of inspiration--the Dutch use the same word for margarine as we do. I could use margarine instead of butter or perhaps the margarine would even be stored next to the butter.
"Margarine?!" I asked triumphantly.
She looked puzzled and started talking to a customer standing in the check-out line.
"Markhgareen" said the customer.
"Ohhhhhh" said the clerk. And showed me were it was. It was next to the "boter".)
I could tell that it is harder to remember language things after not using them very often. I haven't gone to the library, or watched Dutch TV, or listened to Dutch radio in a while and I think that it showed in the fact that it took so long for me to come up with sentences. And in the fact that many of my sentences were grammatical nightmares. So, back to the Asterix and Obelix comic books and the dubbed over Sponge-Bob-Square-Pants television shows I go.
It's for homework.
I promise.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Dutch Cafe Again
Last Tuesday I went to the Dutch Cafe again. It turned out to be kind of interesting (but the trips to and from the Cafe were tedious and involved no amorous drunk guys, so I guess you can't have everything). I was the only student that showed up which meant that for an hour and a half I essentially got private Dutch classes from one of the other Dutch teachers (not mine) and two of the ladies from the Language Institute.
One of the ladies had studied Arabic and had lived in Egypt for a while (perhaps two years?) while she worked on languages. So it was fun to talk about that. Also, it is fun to say "Egypt" in Dutch. It sounds kind of like e-KGi-ptu.
It did mean that I had to work really, really hard, though. It is tiring work to think that hard about what one is saying as well as listening that hard to figure out what everyone else is saying. I think that it was good for my Dutch but it was also quite difficult. It is also hard to always have to think of super simple ways to say everything because you don't have much of a vocabulary. I think I definitely take vocabulary for granted in English.
I had a cappaccino, which probably wasn't the wisest move at 8 o'clock at night, but it was pretty tasty. It came with a little candy. At the end of the evening, when they brought the bill, they also brought mints, so I had one of those, and it turned out to be banana-mint flavored. I guess it tasted fine, actually, but that is not really a flavor combination that I would have thought of.
One of the ladies had studied Arabic and had lived in Egypt for a while (perhaps two years?) while she worked on languages. So it was fun to talk about that. Also, it is fun to say "Egypt" in Dutch. It sounds kind of like e-KGi-ptu.
It did mean that I had to work really, really hard, though. It is tiring work to think that hard about what one is saying as well as listening that hard to figure out what everyone else is saying. I think that it was good for my Dutch but it was also quite difficult. It is also hard to always have to think of super simple ways to say everything because you don't have much of a vocabulary. I think I definitely take vocabulary for granted in English.
I had a cappaccino, which probably wasn't the wisest move at 8 o'clock at night, but it was pretty tasty. It came with a little candy. At the end of the evening, when they brought the bill, they also brought mints, so I had one of those, and it turned out to be banana-mint flavored. I guess it tasted fine, actually, but that is not really a flavor combination that I would have thought of.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Dutch Language Class Happenings
I am pleased to report that today I got the official information that I had passed my Dutch Intensive Class and have been officially declared "sufficient" at speaking, understanding, reading, and writing Dutch to have an Exam Level of A2.1 which means that I am approximately an advanced beginner. So now I am very cheerful. =-)
Our teacher, Marjolein Vierhout, was definitely the best teacher. I thought that she was very good and, from what I heard, other teachers this year were using more "progressive" teaching methods. For instance, prepositions are difficult. They are very difficult in Dutch and they don't really translate directly from English. In at least one of the other classes, the teacher had the students acting out the prepositions. So you would say "op de tafel" and climb onto the table, "onder de tafel" and crawl under it, "aan de tafel" and sit at the table. While I don't doubt the efficacy of this approach (if "School House Rock" has taught us anything it's that these kinds of things work), I do think that 30 years old is far too old an age to have to be jumping around and climbing on the furniture in class.
One of the other complicated things about Dutch is that while English uses loads and loads of simple pasts ("I went to the library") Dutch almost always uses past perfects ("I have gone to the library"). Possibly because it sounds cooler. But it does make sentence structure more complicated. Simple past: ("I went to the library") "Ik ging naar de bibliotheek"; past perfect ("I have gone to the library") "Ik ben naar de bibliotheek geweest." There are very specific rules about when you are allowed to use the simple past and I still haven't quite figured them out--they are the kind of rules where you just kind of have to know how to use them and it is hard to learn them.
Dutch also doesn't really use the future tense (or at least it doesn't at the "advanced beginner's" level). You just use the present tense and rely on context: "I go to the library tomorrow." This sort of makes it easier, because you don't have to remember extra conjugation, but, for me at least, there is always a second's catch where I am trying to remember how to make things future before I remember that I don't have to.
One thing I have learned, though, is that, at least in the Netherlands, language teachers do not think very highly of the Rosetta Stone language programs. In the Dutch program that I did, there were a couple of places were there were actual errors in the program and I learned something wrong (that would have to have been when I was paying attention) and there were other places where they used archaic or regional words or phrases which aren't generally used in most places.
Before we took the exam, our teacher gave everybody these little lady-bug candies "for luck". I think that they look a little too bug-like for candy but I suppose that chocolate is chocolate.
Also, after the final exam, I went and picked up my student ID and I also got a welcome pack that included a map of Rotterdam (it still wasn't one that included Zuid-Rotterdam), some informational things, some VVV (tourist bureau) things, and these little things:
Little wooden clog key-chains! Aren't they cute?
One of the other students (who is going to the law school) picked up her bag as well and she only had one pair. She was very sad. It turns out that the little orange ones were given out by the University.
These little blue ones were given out by the School of History, Society, and Culture, which is the faculty with which I am studying, so score!
Our teacher, Marjolein Vierhout, was definitely the best teacher. I thought that she was very good and, from what I heard, other teachers this year were using more "progressive" teaching methods. For instance, prepositions are difficult. They are very difficult in Dutch and they don't really translate directly from English. In at least one of the other classes, the teacher had the students acting out the prepositions. So you would say "op de tafel" and climb onto the table, "onder de tafel" and crawl under it, "aan de tafel" and sit at the table. While I don't doubt the efficacy of this approach (if "School House Rock" has taught us anything it's that these kinds of things work), I do think that 30 years old is far too old an age to have to be jumping around and climbing on the furniture in class.
One of the other complicated things about Dutch is that while English uses loads and loads of simple pasts ("I went to the library") Dutch almost always uses past perfects ("I have gone to the library"). Possibly because it sounds cooler. But it does make sentence structure more complicated. Simple past: ("I went to the library") "Ik ging naar de bibliotheek"; past perfect ("I have gone to the library") "Ik ben naar de bibliotheek geweest." There are very specific rules about when you are allowed to use the simple past and I still haven't quite figured them out--they are the kind of rules where you just kind of have to know how to use them and it is hard to learn them.
Dutch also doesn't really use the future tense (or at least it doesn't at the "advanced beginner's" level). You just use the present tense and rely on context: "I go to the library tomorrow." This sort of makes it easier, because you don't have to remember extra conjugation, but, for me at least, there is always a second's catch where I am trying to remember how to make things future before I remember that I don't have to.
One thing I have learned, though, is that, at least in the Netherlands, language teachers do not think very highly of the Rosetta Stone language programs. In the Dutch program that I did, there were a couple of places were there were actual errors in the program and I learned something wrong (that would have to have been when I was paying attention) and there were other places where they used archaic or regional words or phrases which aren't generally used in most places.
Before we took the exam, our teacher gave everybody these little lady-bug candies "for luck". I think that they look a little too bug-like for candy but I suppose that chocolate is chocolate.
Also, after the final exam, I went and picked up my student ID and I also got a welcome pack that included a map of Rotterdam (it still wasn't one that included Zuid-Rotterdam), some informational things, some VVV (tourist bureau) things, and these little things:
Little wooden clog key-chains! Aren't they cute?
One of the other students (who is going to the law school) picked up her bag as well and she only had one pair. She was very sad. It turns out that the little orange ones were given out by the University.
These little blue ones were given out by the School of History, Society, and Culture, which is the faculty with which I am studying, so score!
Thursday, August 25, 2011
"Wat Weer!"--A Dutch Weather Cartoon
This is a Dutch weather cartoon that our teacher handed out in class one day. The weather hasn't been quite this bad, but I must admit that the times when the sun has appeared have been more of a welcome surprise than a constant condition.
I will say, though, that there is nothing like a torrential downpour to remind you that you are essentially living on the bottom of the ocean and nothing but a little bit of Dutch ingenuity stands between you and and a pretty convincing Jonah impersonation.
Actually, though, in my devotions the other day I read this, and I figure that I ought to design some kind of Dutch-themed embroidery project around it:
What a storm, what weather!
Look at that, it's the sun!
Is that hail?
At least it's dry now!
Although . . .
I can't see a thing.
I might as well just look at the wall.
Finally, summer!
I will say, though, that there is nothing like a torrential downpour to remind you that you are essentially living on the bottom of the ocean and nothing but a little bit of Dutch ingenuity stands between you and and a pretty convincing Jonah impersonation.
Actually, though, in my devotions the other day I read this, and I figure that I ought to design some kind of Dutch-themed embroidery project around it:
"He turned the sea into dry land;
they went through the flood on foot;
there did we rejoice in Him."
Psalm 66:6
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
De Bibliotheek (the Library)
Since I don't have any more classes right now, I went in to the library which is about 100 yards from my building. It is a branch of the Rotterdam public library system.
It is a little, bitty library on only one floor in the corner of a triangular building. I think that I would like to be living in one of the apartments above the library. Those are neat balconies and you would have a view down two different streets.
During the summer, the library was only open 5 or 6 hours per week so I hadn't really had a chance to check it out, but they are on to their regular schedule now, so I was able to go check it out. It looks like it should be fun to go in there occasionally to look at books and to practice my Dutch.
When I first went into the library, I thought that there were an awfully lot of romance books, in fact, it looked like the only adult books they had were romance books. But, when I went and looked it up, it turns out that "Romans" just means "fiction", not just "romance."
They also have a fairly large, proportionally speaking at least, travel section that should be fun to look through. They have a small periodicals section, a bunch of books on tape, and a fair collection of kids books. Since my vocabulary is fairly limited, and since flipping through a dictionary real cuts into the narrative stream, I focused on the kids books section.
Besides the one delightful book I already mentioned, I also read part of an "Asterix and Obelix" book. This one is called "De Intrigant"--"The Spy" or "The Schemer", something like that. This is one with Julius Caesar in it but it also has Brutus in it (who is always in a bad mood) and Julius Caesar keeps saying "Ook gij, Brutus." Which means "Et tu, Btutus." So it is a little historical joke. Actually though, "gij" is a really old fashioned form of "you"; we didn't even learn it in class at all and I only know about it because I ran across it in one of the old things that I was looking at one time. I believe that it is still used in Friesland, however, where they have a pretty distinct dialect.
Asterix and Obelix are always a good read, though. And that little Idifix is just so cute!
It is a little, bitty library on only one floor in the corner of a triangular building. I think that I would like to be living in one of the apartments above the library. Those are neat balconies and you would have a view down two different streets.
During the summer, the library was only open 5 or 6 hours per week so I hadn't really had a chance to check it out, but they are on to their regular schedule now, so I was able to go check it out. It looks like it should be fun to go in there occasionally to look at books and to practice my Dutch.
When I first went into the library, I thought that there were an awfully lot of romance books, in fact, it looked like the only adult books they had were romance books. But, when I went and looked it up, it turns out that "Romans" just means "fiction", not just "romance."
They also have a fairly large, proportionally speaking at least, travel section that should be fun to look through. They have a small periodicals section, a bunch of books on tape, and a fair collection of kids books. Since my vocabulary is fairly limited, and since flipping through a dictionary real cuts into the narrative stream, I focused on the kids books section.
Besides the one delightful book I already mentioned, I also read part of an "Asterix and Obelix" book. This one is called "De Intrigant"--"The Spy" or "The Schemer", something like that. This is one with Julius Caesar in it but it also has Brutus in it (who is always in a bad mood) and Julius Caesar keeps saying "Ook gij, Brutus." Which means "Et tu, Btutus." So it is a little historical joke. Actually though, "gij" is a really old fashioned form of "you"; we didn't even learn it in class at all and I only know about it because I ran across it in one of the old things that I was looking at one time. I believe that it is still used in Friesland, however, where they have a pretty distinct dialect.
Asterix and Obelix are always a good read, though. And that little Idifix is just so cute!
My Dutch Improves
I read my first book in Dutch today. I read the whole thing, front to back, without even a dictionary.
I am VERY proud of myself and feel as if I have accomplished something.
The book was called "Een Sneeuwman met een Plan." Or, in English, "A Snowman with a Plan."
It is written and illustrated by Gunter Segers.
It looked like this:
In this story, some animals see their snowman friend doing stuff in the snow and they can't figure out what he's up to. More and more animals come to watch the snowman as he rolls snowballs. Sometimes they are too big. Sometimes they are too small. Sometimes they roll down the hill and splatter. Finally, though, the snowman has a stack of snow balls. Then he leaves and comes running back with a carrot. He sticks the carrot into the top snowball and. . .
"He's made himself a vriendje (a little friend)!" Say all of his animal friends.
"No!" says another animal "He's made himself a vriendinje (a girl friend)!"
And then all of the animals cheered.
It was a feel-good story if I ever read one.
And it was all in Dutch.
I am VERY proud of myself and feel as if I have accomplished something.
The book was called "Een Sneeuwman met een Plan." Or, in English, "A Snowman with a Plan."
It is written and illustrated by Gunter Segers.
It looked like this:
"He's made himself a vriendje (a little friend)!" Say all of his animal friends.
"No!" says another animal "He's made himself a vriendinje (a girl friend)!"
And then all of the animals cheered.
It was a feel-good story if I ever read one.
And it was all in Dutch.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
The Dutch Class BBQ
On Friday we had the final exam for our Summer Dutch Course and to celebrate, everyone got together to have a barbecue. This is another word that Dutch has adopted and adapted. In Dutch, to "barbecue" is "barbecuen" or possibly "barbequen". Our teacher wasn't exactly sure how it ought to be spelled. In any case, for Dutch folk, barbecue just means anything that is grilled.
One of the girls from class lives on the very top floor of one of Stadswonen's other student apartment buildings. There is a large balcony that circles the top floor (once you ride up in the elevator you actually have to go back outside to get to her apartment) and she has a really magnificent view. Sitting at her kitchen table, she can look out, through her french doors, and see the entire Rotterdam skyline. I am a little jealous, even if she does have to share with three other people.
If you squint a little, and click on the picture to enlarge it, you can see Erasmusbrug, Williamsbrug (which is the pinkish-red bridge in front of the larger, white Erasmusbrug), the Euromast (which at one point was the tallest structure in the Netherlands), the Unilever building (as in the soap people), which is the one that looks really out of balance and which have I pointed out before, and a whole lot of other buildings. You can probably also almost make out that part of the land across the Maas (the river that you can see) is an island.
Friday was the most beautiful day that we have had since I got to the Netherlands. It was lovely just to sit out on the balcony and look out over the city and just chat. I got more sun than I have had in three weeks and my nose even got a little pink.
Since it was so nice, I decided to walk home, and I am glad that I did, because it was lovely and I got to see bits of Rotterdam that I hadn't known existed before but, on the other hand, I estimate that, what with one thing and another, I walked about 10 miles on Friday, so I was a little tired out.
I have attached a picture of a map, with part of my route marked out in green, to give an idea of part of the way that I went. You can see the Erasmusbrug on the left, the Williamsbrug on the right, and the little island in the middle. The little island is called Noordereiland. My place is more or less south-ish and it isn't included on this map because this map just covers central Rotterdam. The Erasmus Woudestein Campus is off to the right/east a ways and is also not included on this map.
One thing that I saw that I thought was interesting was this pretty, tall church. If you notice the blue banner hanging on the wall, I think that this must be the Dutch version of VBS.
I think that I have mentioned before that the Netherlands are full of canals. This means that it is also full of bridges, many of which are the kind that lift up to allow larger boats through. This bridge is the Admeraltiesbrug and those are some kind of neat boats that were in the canal next to it. The yellow crane thingy is how they raise and lower the bridge and there is one on each side of the road, even though I only got one in the shot.
This is "De Majesteit" which appears to be some kind of cruise boat. What is interesting about it though, is that it appears to be a steam-powered paddle boat, which I think of mostly in connection with the Mississippi and Tom Sawyer.
This is the Williamsbrug Bridge which I walked over on my way home. It is definitely not as fantastical and bizarre as the Erasmusbrug but I kind of like it. One huge plus is that it is shorter and lower so it is a lot less work to cross and it doesn't wobble as much when cars cross it. It is also a fair bit shorter than Erasmusbrug because it just crosses to that little island in the middle of the Maas.
The little island is different from a lot of the rest of Rotterdam. There are little parks and lots and lots of trees, so it is a lot greener than the area where I live. I think it is also quite a bit more expensive than were I live as well. A lot of people had lots and lots of plants in their apartments and balconies. It made a really nice view. This is a bunch of apartments right on the north side of the island. I actually stood on the bridge to take these pictures. It was warm enough that it was nice to walk in the shade of all of the trees on the island. It was very peaceful.
This is a bridge that you can use to get off of the island sometimes, but not today. I have never seen a bridge that was raised quite like this but it is pretty interesting looking. I also don't know what it is used for. There aren't any tracks leading up to it so I don't think it can be trains or trams, and the other bridge seems to handle pedestrian and road traffic well so I wouldn't think it would be needed for that either. But in any case, it wasn't being used when I went by.
This is a view of the bridge I actually crossed over on, taken while standing under the bridge above. I don't know what those green turrets are made of (I assume copper), or why they were put there, but it looked like you could just go inside and sit on benches inside them and watch the river if you wanted. I didn't though, because I was sure you were allowed to, and I didn't want to get yelled at by the often-times scary looking politie (police).
This is a cafe, just the other side of the bridge, back on the mainland. Since I don't think the Mayflower ever docked here, I think that we have to classify this as shameless self-promotionalism.
This place was called the "Zebra Zone." I do not think that the sculptor ever saw a zebra. He may have once seen a giraffe, or a dinosaur, and thought it was a zebra, but I don't think he ever saw a real zebra. I photographed this while I was waiting to cross a bridge that had been raised to let a boat through. I couldn't get a good picture of it raised, though, because I was at a bad angle--it kept just looking like a hill.
This crowd of people approaching from the direction of the bridge gate-house is the back-up of traffic that occurred while the bridge was raised. The bridge building itself (I do not know its original purpose) looks like it has apartments in it now. I think that it could be pretty neat to live in there, and I bet you have a pretty good view, but I bet that that bridge can be pretty noisy and I don't think I would like the traffic going right under my room.
While I was walking along, I found the really nice part of Rotterdam. There are lots of little park areas and little bits of grass and things. You don't really notice that you are surrounded by concrete and paving stones until you see some grass and realize that you haven't seen it for a while. It was nice to walk around areas that I hadn't seen before. It was a beautiful day, and it was a really pleasant and picturesque walk around the city.
One of the girls from class lives on the very top floor of one of Stadswonen's other student apartment buildings. There is a large balcony that circles the top floor (once you ride up in the elevator you actually have to go back outside to get to her apartment) and she has a really magnificent view. Sitting at her kitchen table, she can look out, through her french doors, and see the entire Rotterdam skyline. I am a little jealous, even if she does have to share with three other people.
If you squint a little, and click on the picture to enlarge it, you can see Erasmusbrug, Williamsbrug (which is the pinkish-red bridge in front of the larger, white Erasmusbrug), the Euromast (which at one point was the tallest structure in the Netherlands), the Unilever building (as in the soap people), which is the one that looks really out of balance and which have I pointed out before, and a whole lot of other buildings. You can probably also almost make out that part of the land across the Maas (the river that you can see) is an island.
Friday was the most beautiful day that we have had since I got to the Netherlands. It was lovely just to sit out on the balcony and look out over the city and just chat. I got more sun than I have had in three weeks and my nose even got a little pink.
Since it was so nice, I decided to walk home, and I am glad that I did, because it was lovely and I got to see bits of Rotterdam that I hadn't known existed before but, on the other hand, I estimate that, what with one thing and another, I walked about 10 miles on Friday, so I was a little tired out.
I have attached a picture of a map, with part of my route marked out in green, to give an idea of part of the way that I went. You can see the Erasmusbrug on the left, the Williamsbrug on the right, and the little island in the middle. The little island is called Noordereiland. My place is more or less south-ish and it isn't included on this map because this map just covers central Rotterdam. The Erasmus Woudestein Campus is off to the right/east a ways and is also not included on this map.
One thing that I saw that I thought was interesting was this pretty, tall church. If you notice the blue banner hanging on the wall, I think that this must be the Dutch version of VBS.
I think that I have mentioned before that the Netherlands are full of canals. This means that it is also full of bridges, many of which are the kind that lift up to allow larger boats through. This bridge is the Admeraltiesbrug and those are some kind of neat boats that were in the canal next to it. The yellow crane thingy is how they raise and lower the bridge and there is one on each side of the road, even though I only got one in the shot.
This is "De Majesteit" which appears to be some kind of cruise boat. What is interesting about it though, is that it appears to be a steam-powered paddle boat, which I think of mostly in connection with the Mississippi and Tom Sawyer.
This is the Williamsbrug Bridge which I walked over on my way home. It is definitely not as fantastical and bizarre as the Erasmusbrug but I kind of like it. One huge plus is that it is shorter and lower so it is a lot less work to cross and it doesn't wobble as much when cars cross it. It is also a fair bit shorter than Erasmusbrug because it just crosses to that little island in the middle of the Maas.
The little island is different from a lot of the rest of Rotterdam. There are little parks and lots and lots of trees, so it is a lot greener than the area where I live. I think it is also quite a bit more expensive than were I live as well. A lot of people had lots and lots of plants in their apartments and balconies. It made a really nice view. This is a bunch of apartments right on the north side of the island. I actually stood on the bridge to take these pictures. It was warm enough that it was nice to walk in the shade of all of the trees on the island. It was very peaceful.
This is a bridge that you can use to get off of the island sometimes, but not today. I have never seen a bridge that was raised quite like this but it is pretty interesting looking. I also don't know what it is used for. There aren't any tracks leading up to it so I don't think it can be trains or trams, and the other bridge seems to handle pedestrian and road traffic well so I wouldn't think it would be needed for that either. But in any case, it wasn't being used when I went by.
This is a view of the bridge I actually crossed over on, taken while standing under the bridge above. I don't know what those green turrets are made of (I assume copper), or why they were put there, but it looked like you could just go inside and sit on benches inside them and watch the river if you wanted. I didn't though, because I was sure you were allowed to, and I didn't want to get yelled at by the often-times scary looking politie (police).
This is a cafe, just the other side of the bridge, back on the mainland. Since I don't think the Mayflower ever docked here, I think that we have to classify this as shameless self-promotionalism.
This place was called the "Zebra Zone." I do not think that the sculptor ever saw a zebra. He may have once seen a giraffe, or a dinosaur, and thought it was a zebra, but I don't think he ever saw a real zebra. I photographed this while I was waiting to cross a bridge that had been raised to let a boat through. I couldn't get a good picture of it raised, though, because I was at a bad angle--it kept just looking like a hill.
This crowd of people approaching from the direction of the bridge gate-house is the back-up of traffic that occurred while the bridge was raised. The bridge building itself (I do not know its original purpose) looks like it has apartments in it now. I think that it could be pretty neat to live in there, and I bet you have a pretty good view, but I bet that that bridge can be pretty noisy and I don't think I would like the traffic going right under my room.
While I was walking along, I found the really nice part of Rotterdam. There are lots of little park areas and little bits of grass and things. You don't really notice that you are surrounded by concrete and paving stones until you see some grass and realize that you haven't seen it for a while. It was nice to walk around areas that I hadn't seen before. It was a beautiful day, and it was a really pleasant and picturesque walk around the city.
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