CDG tells me about this joke the Dutch have in Holland:
Three thinnest books in the world:
1 - 100 years of English cooking
2 - 100 years of German humor
3 - 100 years of Italian bravery
Then says 'thats how we deal with the big countries around us...take the piss out of them.'
:-D
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Paris - Disneyland - whatever...
I saving up my energy to write about Paris but was not really required.
Don’t feel like writing about it but just to remind myself of not being a sissy traveler again, I shall put down tit-bits of the visit.
All I remember of Paris is the cold, the crowded jam-packed streets, and the indifferent French people (who only made it colder by a degree.)
In the name of seeing Paris ‘by night’ as promised by the travel agency, it was looking at the Eiffel Tower from a distance and other such monuments. (please note the lack of interest as i refer to Notre Dame and Louvre as 'other monuments'). It was as good as hearing about them than actually seeing. Maybe, because what preceded this was too exhausting for the mind to appreciate anything. The bus journey.
Everyone, except the two of us, was Dutch and so there was a constant Dutch chatter. After a while it gets to me, when I cannot understand a language…more so because I can figure out a few words and I begin to interpret and the brain is continuously processing information and just producing garble. The people can be ignored to an extent because no one was really talking to us, but when the driver of the coach made announcements in Dutch, it was really made me hopping mad. And, I must tell you that the announcements were pretty frequent. The bus stopped every 2 hours for a break and the driver announced for what it has stopped and when the journey will resume. And we had to pester a guy sitting behind us to interpret it for us. Although, if you look at it logically, it was a pretty normal situation but it made me feel utterly stupid. Every time I turned around to ask the guy, I felt this time he is going to roll his eyes like ‘not again’ and not respond. Mercifully enough, he was more patient than I was.
The cherry on the cake was a retarded psycho creep sitting right next to us who had his mini beer bar set up and drank almost 24 cans of beer starting from before the journey!! Very unbelievable and of course annoying. Thank God at least there was an aisle separating CK and me from him and his beer bar. So, we took turns to sit on the aisle seat. Thankfully he started to get drunk only in the last leg of the journey when we had entered Paris. But, as luck would have it, that day was a metro strike in Paris and the streets closely resembled the streets of B’lore. And after waiting for Paris for like an eternity, we were stuck on the streets for 3 hours. And so the myth of the ‘gorgeous Paris’ came tumbling down.
Don’t feel like writing about it but just to remind myself of not being a sissy traveler again, I shall put down tit-bits of the visit.
All I remember of Paris is the cold, the crowded jam-packed streets, and the indifferent French people (who only made it colder by a degree.)
In the name of seeing Paris ‘by night’ as promised by the travel agency, it was looking at the Eiffel Tower from a distance and other such monuments. (please note the lack of interest as i refer to Notre Dame and Louvre as 'other monuments'). It was as good as hearing about them than actually seeing. Maybe, because what preceded this was too exhausting for the mind to appreciate anything. The bus journey.
Everyone, except the two of us, was Dutch and so there was a constant Dutch chatter. After a while it gets to me, when I cannot understand a language…more so because I can figure out a few words and I begin to interpret and the brain is continuously processing information and just producing garble. The people can be ignored to an extent because no one was really talking to us, but when the driver of the coach made announcements in Dutch, it was really made me hopping mad. And, I must tell you that the announcements were pretty frequent. The bus stopped every 2 hours for a break and the driver announced for what it has stopped and when the journey will resume. And we had to pester a guy sitting behind us to interpret it for us. Although, if you look at it logically, it was a pretty normal situation but it made me feel utterly stupid. Every time I turned around to ask the guy, I felt this time he is going to roll his eyes like ‘not again’ and not respond. Mercifully enough, he was more patient than I was.
The cherry on the cake was a retarded psycho creep sitting right next to us who had his mini beer bar set up and drank almost 24 cans of beer starting from before the journey!! Very unbelievable and of course annoying. Thank God at least there was an aisle separating CK and me from him and his beer bar. So, we took turns to sit on the aisle seat. Thankfully he started to get drunk only in the last leg of the journey when we had entered Paris. But, as luck would have it, that day was a metro strike in Paris and the streets closely resembled the streets of B’lore. And after waiting for Paris for like an eternity, we were stuck on the streets for 3 hours. And so the myth of the ‘gorgeous Paris’ came tumbling down.
It was unexpectedly cold and windy and I was hungry and tired and everything was so firkin expensive. Enjoyment was the last thing on the mind. So, with these frayed nerves I watched Paris by night, in a boat in freezing cold and a numb head.
Next day was Disneyland, which was good and I terribly missed my munkey! Its quite a paradise for children and I feel can be a nightmare for the parents with hajaar shops of toys every two steps. The Disneyland is divided further into;
- Discovery land
- Fantasy land
- Adventure land
- Frontier land.
It’s so huge that even the 10 hours that we had there were not enough to see what we had wished to see.
Managed to do our best by watching the Lion King Musical in Video polis – Its quite amusing live singing, costumes and everything. Enjoyed a few rides between some shopping and eating. It has been ages I have been to any amusement park so it was quite something. I loved the last roller-coaster thing called Big Thunder Mountain. It was Halloween month or something so there were all these nice Halloween pumpkins all around. Quite nice!
Oh yes, and also I got my first picture with a celebrity clicked :-P
The next day was a visit to the basilica called Sacre Coure on Mont Martre – quite exquisite. You can view the whole of Paris from the steps of the church. It was a little foggy and the view wasn’t so clear.
The walk to and from the church was the only really the time we walked on the streets of Paris and it would have been better if it was in another time.
It was time again for the excruciating journey back. This time more painful with some Dutch comedy show DVD playing in the bus. So, while the people in the bus laughed (like hyenas), I tried to calm down my nerves and wished I could just disapparate!
PS: Feedback for including pics in the blog has been incorporated but is really temporary and can change based on my whims and fancies.
It was time again for the excruciating journey back. This time more painful with some Dutch comedy show DVD playing in the bus. So, while the people in the bus laughed (like hyenas), I tried to calm down my nerves and wished I could just disapparate!
PS: Feedback for including pics in the blog has been incorporated but is really temporary and can change based on my whims and fancies.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Zwolle
I think this ‘wisdom tooth’ of mine should be renamed to ‘dumbass tooth’, as it decides to emerge and vanish at its own will without bringing any real wisdom with it. (All the smart asses thinking ‘Duh- it can be the other way round’, I say ‘NO’, my wisdom has nothing to do with it, as it stays as low or high as ever.)
So, basically, its been hurting me since quite some days now and all I can do is sit and wait, while it tortures me day in and day out. Thats also what the dentist has told me.
Err…that’s not an excuse to push away the last weekend’s writing but really, but the pain is really something. Its even giving me nightmares lately (more about that later ..umm..or in another post)
Last weekend was an invitation from the Curious Dutch Guy (CDG) in Zwolle (Zwoll-uh). He gets his name from perpetually asking about Indians and India through a bombardment of emails at the rate of 2 per hour (no exaggeration here).
Zwolle is a very small town but nothing like any place we have been so far. I was expecting a small sleepy town with a few usual beautiful parks (which we are so ..(yaawwwn)..used to now and…(more yawwwn)…canals.)
CDG invited us for dinner so we reached a little after lunch. It’s a 1.5 hours train journey from Amsterdam. And ‘oh! What a train journey’! I love the fact that the train journeys are so convenient and you really have to just go to the station, buy your tickets and sit in the train. No reservations, no delays, no confusions about platform numbers or any last minute change in schedules. All this when all the sign boards are in Dutch! And not to forget ‘clean platforms’!
CDG came to receive us with his 5 year old son, Moby. I was quite in love with him at the first sight. He is very thin, had longish ‘white blond’ hair, and wore red-colored rim glasses and pretty much stared holes in the ground and smiled his cute smiles. I like such children (although they are less children like). Quiet and sensible but still very innocent. And…he is fond of drawing …sigh!
CDG lives with his girlfriend and they have a 5 month old son, Levy, with blue eyes as big as lemons and plump cheeks. Quite edible he was. And when Moby called CDG’s girlfrnd by her name, I realized Moby was the offspring of another love of CDG. Hmm..pretty ‘forward’ like my Dad would have said.
Anyway, so we all sat in CDG’s backyard and had ‘tea and cookies’ and talked about India and blahh..
There isn’t much to do in Zwolle, which I think has a radius of less than 1 km (please note, this is not a fact but more a figure of speech sorta!... lest some Zwollen gets offended.…But the chances are less..because my computer also doesn’t recognize that it’s a name of a city and keeps offering to change it to ‘swollen’. :-P)
Ok, lot of digression here..but as a matter of the fact we did so little that its no point even writing about it.
Khair, we went to see the city…ahem…'on foot'. (Like I would go to the market to buy veggies.) But it was a pleasant experience. We walked to the city centre and it was really nice to be there walking on cobbled streets surrounded by OLD city walls, as old as late 18th century. People have built homes making those walls a part of their homes. I think it is such a nice idea to preserve the heritage and give your house an antique look. Brilliant, I say.
I also pretty much liked the restaurant boats in the canals. Each one done up more elegantly than real buildings. A lot of people also live on boats. It looks interesting although I am curious to see the insides of such a boat once at least.
We then went to an Irish bar and I tried Guinness. Thick and black. Its nice to have once in a while but I don’t think I can get used to it. On this note, i must say, Kingfisher strong rocks more than ever. Tried Heineken and Amstel but not really as lovely as our very own 'kannadiga' brand. (You can tell that i am really homesick when I say ANYTHING in praise of kannadigas!)
We then walked back home and had some wine and cheese and some traditional Dutch food - Stampot (mashed potatoes with mashed veggies) with crispy fried bacon and smoked sausage. It was just terrific. I loved it so much that I tried it at home just yesterday. Yes, yes…..its true. I made traditional Dutch food at home.
So, I will remember Zwolle with all its tradition, in the form of Stampot and I shall forever be indebted to CDG’s GF for introducing this food in my life!
On ‘sifarish’ of a fond reader..here is the recipe.
Stampot with Spekreepjes (bacon strips) and Rookworst (smoked sausage)
(Actually, stampot can be of various types. Basically mashed potatoes combined with greens, or carrots and onions.)
So, basically, its been hurting me since quite some days now and all I can do is sit and wait, while it tortures me day in and day out. Thats also what the dentist has told me.
Err…that’s not an excuse to push away the last weekend’s writing but really, but the pain is really something. Its even giving me nightmares lately (more about that later ..umm..or in another post)
Last weekend was an invitation from the Curious Dutch Guy (CDG) in Zwolle (Zwoll-uh). He gets his name from perpetually asking about Indians and India through a bombardment of emails at the rate of 2 per hour (no exaggeration here).
Zwolle is a very small town but nothing like any place we have been so far. I was expecting a small sleepy town with a few usual beautiful parks (which we are so ..(yaawwwn)..used to now and…(more yawwwn)…canals.)
CDG invited us for dinner so we reached a little after lunch. It’s a 1.5 hours train journey from Amsterdam. And ‘oh! What a train journey’! I love the fact that the train journeys are so convenient and you really have to just go to the station, buy your tickets and sit in the train. No reservations, no delays, no confusions about platform numbers or any last minute change in schedules. All this when all the sign boards are in Dutch! And not to forget ‘clean platforms’!
CDG came to receive us with his 5 year old son, Moby. I was quite in love with him at the first sight. He is very thin, had longish ‘white blond’ hair, and wore red-colored rim glasses and pretty much stared holes in the ground and smiled his cute smiles. I like such children (although they are less children like). Quiet and sensible but still very innocent. And…he is fond of drawing …sigh!
CDG lives with his girlfriend and they have a 5 month old son, Levy, with blue eyes as big as lemons and plump cheeks. Quite edible he was. And when Moby called CDG’s girlfrnd by her name, I realized Moby was the offspring of another love of CDG. Hmm..pretty ‘forward’ like my Dad would have said.
Anyway, so we all sat in CDG’s backyard and had ‘tea and cookies’ and talked about India and blahh..
There isn’t much to do in Zwolle, which I think has a radius of less than 1 km (please note, this is not a fact but more a figure of speech sorta!... lest some Zwollen gets offended.…But the chances are less..because my computer also doesn’t recognize that it’s a name of a city and keeps offering to change it to ‘swollen’. :-P)
Ok, lot of digression here..but as a matter of the fact we did so little that its no point even writing about it.
Khair, we went to see the city…ahem…'on foot'. (Like I would go to the market to buy veggies.) But it was a pleasant experience. We walked to the city centre and it was really nice to be there walking on cobbled streets surrounded by OLD city walls, as old as late 18th century. People have built homes making those walls a part of their homes. I think it is such a nice idea to preserve the heritage and give your house an antique look. Brilliant, I say.
I also pretty much liked the restaurant boats in the canals. Each one done up more elegantly than real buildings. A lot of people also live on boats. It looks interesting although I am curious to see the insides of such a boat once at least.
We then went to an Irish bar and I tried Guinness. Thick and black. Its nice to have once in a while but I don’t think I can get used to it. On this note, i must say, Kingfisher strong rocks more than ever. Tried Heineken and Amstel but not really as lovely as our very own 'kannadiga' brand. (You can tell that i am really homesick when I say ANYTHING in praise of kannadigas!)
We then walked back home and had some wine and cheese and some traditional Dutch food - Stampot (mashed potatoes with mashed veggies) with crispy fried bacon and smoked sausage. It was just terrific. I loved it so much that I tried it at home just yesterday. Yes, yes…..its true. I made traditional Dutch food at home.
So, I will remember Zwolle with all its tradition, in the form of Stampot and I shall forever be indebted to CDG’s GF for introducing this food in my life!
On ‘sifarish’ of a fond reader..here is the recipe.
Stampot with Spekreepjes (bacon strips) and Rookworst (smoked sausage)
(Actually, stampot can be of various types. Basically mashed potatoes combined with greens, or carrots and onions.)
To make the Carrot Stampot:
- Chop the potatoes, carrots, and onions roughly.
- Add double the water and boil for 20 minutes.
- Add the smoked sausage to this after the water has been boiling for 2 minutes (this is because the sausage cooks faster than the potatoes)
- In another pan, sauté the bacon strips. It will cook in its own fat, so no effort there except occasional stirring, till it turns crisp and reddish brown. Keep aside.
- After the sausage along with veggies has boiled for 20 mins, remove the sausage and cut into pieces and keep aside.
- Mash the veggies and add a dollop of butter.
- Season with salt and pepper and serve with bacon and sausage.
And everything should all look like this:
Enjoy your meal! or ‘Eet Smakelijk’ as they say in Dutch!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Spijkenisse - Its good to be bad - (yeah rite)
You can imagine my anxiety of going to a ‘dancing club’ in a foreign country which yells prosperity and sophistication at every two steps. And also the anxiety because I was in a borrowed blouse (courtesy - Mrs. RNSG, who is a size smaller!), my new pair of jeans which is a tad too long and hence had to be folded (in a very NOT happening way), and sneakers (cringe!). And I was thinking, ‘hey bhwagwan, was it not enuff to be walking around even in the streets feeling like commoners among the royalty that I now have to go and look the prim-and-propah in the eye and dance in my sneakers to sexy Caribbean beats?’
Nevertheless, a little bit of excitement still existed about the carribean music. And so we left at 11:30 for the Indian dancing club called ‘La Riviera’ (called Laari by the young crowd).
(Gasp! Did I just say ‘young crowd’??? See what Europe has done to me…!)
In a very non-clubby area we reached a place which looked almost like a entrance of a secluded, newly built house.
The entry was ‘gratis’, free. So, CK and I were checked by a lady-bouncer (yep, yep) and led into another dark room.
Now, this place is really hard to explain. I will try still..
Have you been to a ‘banquet hall’(in context of punju shaadi ceremonies)? If yes, let me assure you, you have almost been to a La Riviera. Yep, it was like a banquet hall with a stage and a bar attached. AND..an ‘empty’ banquet hall at that. On the left were some cheap plastic chair and table with cheap ashtrays. And on the right were some cheap plastic chairs and tables too! In the centre was the dancing area, facing a stage-like platform with a live band, which was still warming up and therefore testing the percussions etc. And boy was it LOUD?!
To sum it up in one word - SHADY!
RNSG seemed a little embarrassed but hopeful and said ‘err..ahem..the crowd will come after 12…so hold on.’
So to avoid embarrassment, we walked to the bar and jus didn’t feel like ANY sort of alcohol. So, we had some soft drinks (at which the sluttish looking, gum chewing, lady at the counter smirked and gave some counters).
Coming to the …ahem ‘crowd’….I really don’t have words to describe the people I saw there. (but as you know that ‘that’s exactly what I am here for, so..)
I would say, in comparison to these, the crowd at TC was like the prettiest people on earth (I know they are anyway but still)
From the clothes to make up…everything LOUD and garish! I wish I could post some pictures here. 90% women looked like sluts (and I have a feeling, they were) and the men looked ..umm I don’t have a category for them yet, but like a cross between rickshawallahs and Bappi Lahiri. Are you getting the picture? (ofcourse not! You cannot!)
After a while the place started filling up and suddenly was full of obnoxious looking hags or repulsive teenagers.
So, after all hopes of an enjoyable experience, I was really banking on some good music, which was just not beginning and instead they just played some random tunes and 2 girls began to dance on the dance floor. The rest just looked in a very ‘let-me-check-out-this-babe’s backside' way. RIDICULOUS is an understatement.
When they finally switched to some real songs from random music, it turned out that they were churning out some crap in the name of remixes. And just when there were more people on the floor, the DJ/live band/whatever, started to play ‘slow music’. Puke puke!
Whenever they did that(played slow music), only one really fat couple stood on the floor barely able to hug each other. It was very funny in a pathetic sort of way.
So, just like other shady ppl around us, we too sat in a shady corner and just watched. I was avoiding looking at RNSG, in case he asked us to go and join the weird slutty people on the dance floor. But then he was too Nice to do that and so, we sat there waiting for some good music. But instead all we got were some really trashy Punjabi numbers, and some Aatif Aslam remixed (and battered and bruised) into a slow-dance number.
(more puke puke)
After 1.5 hours of such loud, brash and jarring music, and the worst crowd ever, I was almost glad, I didn’t care to dress up or be excited about it.
So, we left without ‘shaking our legs’ but our heads a bit like ‘tch tch’!
So, indeed it is good to be BAD and they just got better and made it ‘WORST’!
Nevertheless, a little bit of excitement still existed about the carribean music. And so we left at 11:30 for the Indian dancing club called ‘La Riviera’ (called Laari by the young crowd).
(Gasp! Did I just say ‘young crowd’??? See what Europe has done to me…!)
In a very non-clubby area we reached a place which looked almost like a entrance of a secluded, newly built house.
The entry was ‘gratis’, free. So, CK and I were checked by a lady-bouncer (yep, yep) and led into another dark room.
Now, this place is really hard to explain. I will try still..
Have you been to a ‘banquet hall’(in context of punju shaadi ceremonies)? If yes, let me assure you, you have almost been to a La Riviera. Yep, it was like a banquet hall with a stage and a bar attached. AND..an ‘empty’ banquet hall at that. On the left were some cheap plastic chair and table with cheap ashtrays. And on the right were some cheap plastic chairs and tables too! In the centre was the dancing area, facing a stage-like platform with a live band, which was still warming up and therefore testing the percussions etc. And boy was it LOUD?!
To sum it up in one word - SHADY!
RNSG seemed a little embarrassed but hopeful and said ‘err..ahem..the crowd will come after 12…so hold on.’
So to avoid embarrassment, we walked to the bar and jus didn’t feel like ANY sort of alcohol. So, we had some soft drinks (at which the sluttish looking, gum chewing, lady at the counter smirked and gave some counters).
Coming to the …ahem ‘crowd’….I really don’t have words to describe the people I saw there. (but as you know that ‘that’s exactly what I am here for, so..)
I would say, in comparison to these, the crowd at TC was like the prettiest people on earth (I know they are anyway but still)
From the clothes to make up…everything LOUD and garish! I wish I could post some pictures here. 90% women looked like sluts (and I have a feeling, they were) and the men looked ..umm I don’t have a category for them yet, but like a cross between rickshawallahs and Bappi Lahiri. Are you getting the picture? (ofcourse not! You cannot!)
After a while the place started filling up and suddenly was full of obnoxious looking hags or repulsive teenagers.
So, after all hopes of an enjoyable experience, I was really banking on some good music, which was just not beginning and instead they just played some random tunes and 2 girls began to dance on the dance floor. The rest just looked in a very ‘let-me-check-out-this-babe’s backside' way. RIDICULOUS is an understatement.
When they finally switched to some real songs from random music, it turned out that they were churning out some crap in the name of remixes. And just when there were more people on the floor, the DJ/live band/whatever, started to play ‘slow music’. Puke puke!
Whenever they did that(played slow music), only one really fat couple stood on the floor barely able to hug each other. It was very funny in a pathetic sort of way.
So, just like other shady ppl around us, we too sat in a shady corner and just watched. I was avoiding looking at RNSG, in case he asked us to go and join the weird slutty people on the dance floor. But then he was too Nice to do that and so, we sat there waiting for some good music. But instead all we got were some really trashy Punjabi numbers, and some Aatif Aslam remixed (and battered and bruised) into a slow-dance number.
(more puke puke)
After 1.5 hours of such loud, brash and jarring music, and the worst crowd ever, I was almost glad, I didn’t care to dress up or be excited about it.
So, we left without ‘shaking our legs’ but our heads a bit like ‘tch tch’!
So, indeed it is good to be BAD and they just got better and made it ‘WORST’!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Spijkenisse
Ok, so to begin where I left….
We arrived at Spijkenisse pretty eager to see how a household in any other country is different from our families. I had actually never really been to any colleague’s house, who had three daughters (aged 5 to 8). So, there weren’t really any set expectations to compare with.
And so, with little expectations from the wife or the kids we entered a quiet and beautiful lane of neat looking row houses (and I thanked god that these at least weren’t some boring apartments.)
Mrs. RNSG was pretty warm and had a striking resemblance to one of my old time friend. It was really queer to hear the (now-familiar) Dutch accented English from a very Indian looking woman. And to hear the couple speak Dutch was even queerer.
RSNG knows a bit of broken Hindi and tries to talk in Hindi. He had told us that his wife speaks good Hindi, which had actually turned out to be a joke. Her Hindi was equally bad if not worse. They do understand a lot of it though.
(Again to enlighten you on the subject of languages spoken, Surinamese people speak Bhojpuri and not Hindi. The only Indian FM radio channel has RJs speaking in Bhojpuri and Dutch. Yes, it sounds bizarre and when you hear it, it’s quite funny too.)
We reached by 6 and the dinner was almost laid. The first real different thing from any family here in India. And I thought to myself, in India, it would have been probably a chai-with-samosa sort of welcome. But we were almost glad that it was dinner because we were pretty hungry for some real home cooked food (cooked by someone other than ourselves!). Dinner was nice. Daal, chawal, and aaloo mutter. Some pork to go along with it. It sounded like an Indian menu but tasted nothing like it. The pork was lovely and saved my day.
The daughters looked almost like triplets and very Indian with little gold earrings and big grins on their faces. It was a pity that they spoke no English or Hindi. CK was terribly happy to see them and instantly made friends with them. I on the other hand realized not only was I feeling like a 14 year old boy (hairy upperlip), I was actually behaving like one. Anytime they would come near, all I did was shake hands!! I haven’t been around children for a long time I think. CK kept talking to them in Hindi and English and they responded in Dutch and it was all very normal. I couldn’t for the life of me utter a word. I felt utterly silly. I don’t know why.
The house was pretty cozy and all three girls had a room for themselves and I thought, ‘what luxury!’ I didn’t have my own room till I was 24. The rooms of the girls were all pink and girlie spilling with dolls and soft toys. But oddly, all rooms had at least one picture of an Indian God.
Yes, RNSG is pretty particular about the culture stuff, which I believe a lot of Indians are when they are away from their homeland.
He decided to show us a bit of Surinamese culture and planned to take us to ‘Indian dancing parties.’ He described these as nice places to meet other Surinamese/Hindustanis (yes, that’s what they are mostly called, Hindustanis and not Indians.)
Also, he said, there was nice hindustani music mostly remixed with Caribbean beats. (The reason for which is think is that in Surinam a large part of the population comprises South Africans.) It did sound interesting. On the internet, he found out a club which had an Indian party. The theme was ‘Its good to be bad’. Err..ahem..yeah. We made a few jokes about it and decided to try it out. Mrs. RNSG decided to be at home with the kids and so we went with RNSG alone.
These sort of parties begin after 11:30 pm and go on till early morning (B’lore Administration…are u listening????? Jerks)
(Err…really sorry but I guess I’ll carry on tomorrow. I thought I would finish it this time but as you notice, I am NOT a woman of few words.)
We arrived at Spijkenisse pretty eager to see how a household in any other country is different from our families. I had actually never really been to any colleague’s house, who had three daughters (aged 5 to 8). So, there weren’t really any set expectations to compare with.
And so, with little expectations from the wife or the kids we entered a quiet and beautiful lane of neat looking row houses (and I thanked god that these at least weren’t some boring apartments.)
Mrs. RNSG was pretty warm and had a striking resemblance to one of my old time friend. It was really queer to hear the (now-familiar) Dutch accented English from a very Indian looking woman. And to hear the couple speak Dutch was even queerer.
RSNG knows a bit of broken Hindi and tries to talk in Hindi. He had told us that his wife speaks good Hindi, which had actually turned out to be a joke. Her Hindi was equally bad if not worse. They do understand a lot of it though.
(Again to enlighten you on the subject of languages spoken, Surinamese people speak Bhojpuri and not Hindi. The only Indian FM radio channel has RJs speaking in Bhojpuri and Dutch. Yes, it sounds bizarre and when you hear it, it’s quite funny too.)
We reached by 6 and the dinner was almost laid. The first real different thing from any family here in India. And I thought to myself, in India, it would have been probably a chai-with-samosa sort of welcome. But we were almost glad that it was dinner because we were pretty hungry for some real home cooked food (cooked by someone other than ourselves!). Dinner was nice. Daal, chawal, and aaloo mutter. Some pork to go along with it. It sounded like an Indian menu but tasted nothing like it. The pork was lovely and saved my day.
The daughters looked almost like triplets and very Indian with little gold earrings and big grins on their faces. It was a pity that they spoke no English or Hindi. CK was terribly happy to see them and instantly made friends with them. I on the other hand realized not only was I feeling like a 14 year old boy (hairy upperlip), I was actually behaving like one. Anytime they would come near, all I did was shake hands!! I haven’t been around children for a long time I think. CK kept talking to them in Hindi and English and they responded in Dutch and it was all very normal. I couldn’t for the life of me utter a word. I felt utterly silly. I don’t know why.
The house was pretty cozy and all three girls had a room for themselves and I thought, ‘what luxury!’ I didn’t have my own room till I was 24. The rooms of the girls were all pink and girlie spilling with dolls and soft toys. But oddly, all rooms had at least one picture of an Indian God.
Yes, RNSG is pretty particular about the culture stuff, which I believe a lot of Indians are when they are away from their homeland.
He decided to show us a bit of Surinamese culture and planned to take us to ‘Indian dancing parties.’ He described these as nice places to meet other Surinamese/Hindustanis (yes, that’s what they are mostly called, Hindustanis and not Indians.)
Also, he said, there was nice hindustani music mostly remixed with Caribbean beats. (The reason for which is think is that in Surinam a large part of the population comprises South Africans.) It did sound interesting. On the internet, he found out a club which had an Indian party. The theme was ‘Its good to be bad’. Err..ahem..yeah. We made a few jokes about it and decided to try it out. Mrs. RNSG decided to be at home with the kids and so we went with RNSG alone.
These sort of parties begin after 11:30 pm and go on till early morning (B’lore Administration…are u listening????? Jerks)
(Err…really sorry but I guess I’ll carry on tomorrow. I thought I would finish it this time but as you notice, I am NOT a woman of few words.)
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Rotterdam
After two extremely low-energy weekends, we finally got our treat this weekend.
A Really Nice Surinamese Guy (RNSG) at office invited us to his home town for the weekend. His hometown is called Spijkenisse (yes, an incredibly hard-to-remember name)pronounced as ‘spek-en-iss-uh’ and is very close to Rotterdam. So, RNSG also offered to show us around Rotterdam. Yes, and that’s why he is a 'RN’ SG. (However, you will find out that the ‘N’ ness doesn’t stop here!)
First, a little insight into the Surinamese people in Holland:
I didn’t know before meeting NSG that a whole lot of people from our very own Uttar Pradesh had migrated to Surinam in early 1900’s unknowingly. The bad old bloody brits told ‘em that they were going to ‘Surya-naam’, a land of sun, where they will work for some time and can come back whenever they wanted. So, some poor innocent people with dreams of money in their eyes left for Surinam and realized that they were really far and can no way come back. Out of the fire and into the frying pan, the thousands of Indians who had migrated to escape from the Raj were now ruled by the Dutch. Just like in India some of us then left for ‘vilayat’ in a hope to become ‘saheb and memsaheb’, the Indians in Surinam too moved to Holland. Since then, at least two generation old Surinamese stay in Holland. I feel a little sad for the poor things in fact, they are Indians but don’t know the language or much about the culture and they are certainly not accepted as Dutch because of the distinct Indian looks. They will be foreigners in every country they go. After knowing all this, it suddenly made me feel so nice to belong to a country, if not to a particular town or region. I realized I am lucky to have a little bit of all the cities and states and therefore a whole lot of India in me.
So, off we went like excited children going to meet their grandparents.
We reached much later than planned (which is not really surprising seeing the past 'adherence to our other plans').
The sun was out with us too and it made the start good already. RNSG had come to pick us up at Rotterdam Central station and the plan was to show us around Rotterdam and then drive us back to his place for dinner and then will drop us back to Amstelveen in his car. (You see what I mean! RNSG?)
He was more excited than us to show us around. (Here I must also digress a little and tell you that Rotterdam and Amsterdam are as big rivals to each other as our own Mumbai and Delhi are. Just like the Delhiites can point out a thousand anti-mumbai things in a single breath, and vice-versa, the Rotterdam’ites (??) can instantly make Amsterdam look bad and vice-versa. Rotterdam was completely bombed during the second world war and has only two or three old structures to boast about in the name of history, whereas Amsterdam has lots more to offer and therefore considered to be of more ‘character’. Well, whatever!)
Rotterdam was different from Amsterdam for sure, as it had pretty wide roads and looked much neater and organized. But again, for me it was hard to tell what was really the big difference. It was like another beautiful organized city of Holland which was filled with more colored people than others.
Maybe RNSG came with a perception in his head about meeting two women from India who will swoon over shopping, so he started to point out at all the shopping places, in between, also showing us the few famous buildings here and there. Little did he know, at least one of them would rather sit by a canal and look at ducks all day than go into a shopping mall (and especially the ones that make you feel like a bloody hobo!)
So, we politely kept saying NO to the shopping area trip, looking at each other like ‘uh, what if THIS was his idea of showing is around Rotterdam?’ Just then he casually asked ‘or would you like to go on a boat trip to see the port of Rotterdam?’ And both of almost too quickly and eagerly said ‘Yes, yes, a boat trip would be nice’.
Before the boat trip we had a quick grub at a surinamese joint run by Chinese. Rotterdam has a whole china-town and India-town sort of where a whole lot of Indians and Chinese immigrants have shops…from chinese herbs to Indian Saree shops to an Ambala sweet shop!
At the port, we had some time while away and we roamed about here and there and went to a stand on a bridge above the river De Maas. It was a lovely view of the river shimmering like gold. That’s the best part about this place, even on a busy day, its never too chaotic or too noisy. You can stand in the middle of a busy day on a busy bridge and enjoy a conversation. We did just that and it was time to board the boat, which turned out to be rather big and ‘ship’ looking (in my head I imagined something like the boats for the canal cruise).
The enclosed area has chairs and tables and like a guided tour of the port (y’know the like the one which has a voice saying ‘on your right is this and Rotterdam’s mayor is balh) and the deck of the boat has just some seats and chairs and tables where you can eat, drink and chat and just look at the sea. So, without any second thoughts, we chose ‘the deck’! Surprise, surprise! Well, RNSG really was surprised, as he later told us that most of the people he has brought from India on this boat preferred to be seated in the enclosed area. Well, I guess he meant ‘the geeks’. Phbtt!
He really tried that on us too, telling us about the numbers, how long in kilometers was the river from this point to that and how many containers can this ship carry and that one. I was quite distracted to I just nodded along politely. He completely hijacked the camera from CK and he kept offering to ‘make pictures’ of both of us with this and that in the background. Then, switched back to spewing more information. I swear to god, I don’t remember a single thing he told me. Mind goes blank on such technical information in a beautiful place like that surrounded by water. I guess, along with being Really Nice, he is smart too, as left both of us for a while to stare at the river and enjoy and came back with some soft drink and apple-pie. Before we could tell him ‘uh-oh, why did you bother?’….he gingerly said ‘that’s on us!’. (RNSG – proof number 3)
The one hour boat ride seemed to be over rather quickly and we then left for Spijkinesse in his car listening to kishore kumar and mohd. Rafi on his CD payer, while he showed us some other famous landmarks and kept saying ‘make a picture, quick!’ Quite surreal it was, in a Really Nice way.
More in part 2.
It’s late and I am sleepy.
A Really Nice Surinamese Guy (RNSG) at office invited us to his home town for the weekend. His hometown is called Spijkenisse (yes, an incredibly hard-to-remember name)pronounced as ‘spek-en-iss-uh’ and is very close to Rotterdam. So, RNSG also offered to show us around Rotterdam. Yes, and that’s why he is a 'RN’ SG. (However, you will find out that the ‘N’ ness doesn’t stop here!)
First, a little insight into the Surinamese people in Holland:
I didn’t know before meeting NSG that a whole lot of people from our very own Uttar Pradesh had migrated to Surinam in early 1900’s unknowingly. The bad old bloody brits told ‘em that they were going to ‘Surya-naam’, a land of sun, where they will work for some time and can come back whenever they wanted. So, some poor innocent people with dreams of money in their eyes left for Surinam and realized that they were really far and can no way come back. Out of the fire and into the frying pan, the thousands of Indians who had migrated to escape from the Raj were now ruled by the Dutch. Just like in India some of us then left for ‘vilayat’ in a hope to become ‘saheb and memsaheb’, the Indians in Surinam too moved to Holland. Since then, at least two generation old Surinamese stay in Holland. I feel a little sad for the poor things in fact, they are Indians but don’t know the language or much about the culture and they are certainly not accepted as Dutch because of the distinct Indian looks. They will be foreigners in every country they go. After knowing all this, it suddenly made me feel so nice to belong to a country, if not to a particular town or region. I realized I am lucky to have a little bit of all the cities and states and therefore a whole lot of India in me.
So, off we went like excited children going to meet their grandparents.
We reached much later than planned (which is not really surprising seeing the past 'adherence to our other plans').
The sun was out with us too and it made the start good already. RNSG had come to pick us up at Rotterdam Central station and the plan was to show us around Rotterdam and then drive us back to his place for dinner and then will drop us back to Amstelveen in his car. (You see what I mean! RNSG?)
He was more excited than us to show us around. (Here I must also digress a little and tell you that Rotterdam and Amsterdam are as big rivals to each other as our own Mumbai and Delhi are. Just like the Delhiites can point out a thousand anti-mumbai things in a single breath, and vice-versa, the Rotterdam’ites (??) can instantly make Amsterdam look bad and vice-versa. Rotterdam was completely bombed during the second world war and has only two or three old structures to boast about in the name of history, whereas Amsterdam has lots more to offer and therefore considered to be of more ‘character’. Well, whatever!)
Rotterdam was different from Amsterdam for sure, as it had pretty wide roads and looked much neater and organized. But again, for me it was hard to tell what was really the big difference. It was like another beautiful organized city of Holland which was filled with more colored people than others.
Maybe RNSG came with a perception in his head about meeting two women from India who will swoon over shopping, so he started to point out at all the shopping places, in between, also showing us the few famous buildings here and there. Little did he know, at least one of them would rather sit by a canal and look at ducks all day than go into a shopping mall (and especially the ones that make you feel like a bloody hobo!)
So, we politely kept saying NO to the shopping area trip, looking at each other like ‘uh, what if THIS was his idea of showing is around Rotterdam?’ Just then he casually asked ‘or would you like to go on a boat trip to see the port of Rotterdam?’ And both of almost too quickly and eagerly said ‘Yes, yes, a boat trip would be nice’.
Before the boat trip we had a quick grub at a surinamese joint run by Chinese. Rotterdam has a whole china-town and India-town sort of where a whole lot of Indians and Chinese immigrants have shops…from chinese herbs to Indian Saree shops to an Ambala sweet shop!
At the port, we had some time while away and we roamed about here and there and went to a stand on a bridge above the river De Maas. It was a lovely view of the river shimmering like gold. That’s the best part about this place, even on a busy day, its never too chaotic or too noisy. You can stand in the middle of a busy day on a busy bridge and enjoy a conversation. We did just that and it was time to board the boat, which turned out to be rather big and ‘ship’ looking (in my head I imagined something like the boats for the canal cruise).
The enclosed area has chairs and tables and like a guided tour of the port (y’know the like the one which has a voice saying ‘on your right is this and Rotterdam’s mayor is balh) and the deck of the boat has just some seats and chairs and tables where you can eat, drink and chat and just look at the sea. So, without any second thoughts, we chose ‘the deck’! Surprise, surprise! Well, RNSG really was surprised, as he later told us that most of the people he has brought from India on this boat preferred to be seated in the enclosed area. Well, I guess he meant ‘the geeks’. Phbtt!
He really tried that on us too, telling us about the numbers, how long in kilometers was the river from this point to that and how many containers can this ship carry and that one. I was quite distracted to I just nodded along politely. He completely hijacked the camera from CK and he kept offering to ‘make pictures’ of both of us with this and that in the background. Then, switched back to spewing more information. I swear to god, I don’t remember a single thing he told me. Mind goes blank on such technical information in a beautiful place like that surrounded by water. I guess, along with being Really Nice, he is smart too, as left both of us for a while to stare at the river and enjoy and came back with some soft drink and apple-pie. Before we could tell him ‘uh-oh, why did you bother?’….he gingerly said ‘that’s on us!’. (RNSG – proof number 3)
The one hour boat ride seemed to be over rather quickly and we then left for Spijkinesse in his car listening to kishore kumar and mohd. Rafi on his CD payer, while he showed us some other famous landmarks and kept saying ‘make a picture, quick!’ Quite surreal it was, in a Really Nice way.
More in part 2.
It’s late and I am sleepy.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Thursday, October 04, 2007
And I will write too..
Just when I thought I will close my blog-shop and go into oblivion, I found a reason to continue writing. And I don’t think I will ever stop. Thanks for reminding me.
The past few weeks and the weekends have been strange. It would seem to the occasional visitor of the blog that I have become too busy in this new fabulous life and there must be so much to write that I don’t know where to begin. It is true, the latter about the too much to write, but not about ‘fabulous life’ Naah aah!
However, I shall begin where I left.
The weekend of the visit to the Van Gogh museum
I was going there on the strict instructions of my dad who is a great admirer of all arts especially Monet and Gogh! (I always think his idea of a ‘teerth yaatra’ would be visiting all such museums and art galleries.) I don’t know how my visit would help his dream of seeing all this in person, but he sounded more excited than me on hearing about the plan. And so I obeyed still thinking what else could I have spent the 10 Euros on instead of the ticket.
(Here, I would like all to know that all the knowledge that I ever had about art was only because of watching dad paint or because of ONE painting book which had the descriptions of all the famous masterpieces with a picture accompanying it.)
So, basically, what I am trying to say is that I cannot look at a painting forever. So, I thought I will be over with it soon.
And of course as usual, I was wrong in my judgment of own likes and dislikes.
It was like entering a new universe for sometime. I didn’t take the audio tour, which is basically hearing whats written next to the pantings and a little bit more. I prefer reading text to hearing text any day!
After staring at some 200 paintings and some 100 sketches, I came out quite enlightened and missing my dad like hell. I could not help thinking about him when I saw original Sunflowers and The Courtesan and actually looking at the pointillist paintings, which dad had tried explaining so many times.
It was a special trip and I hope I can retain in my head all that I saw so that I can tell him in detail about his favorites and more and see the glint in his eyes.
We planned on going on all-museums-trip that day but I didn’t want Van Gogh to fade or get obscured by other things so we decided to laze around in Leidesplein (which is where we went the last time too). We even had the same food, falafel and then a belgian waffle sundae. So much for exploring Amsterdam! (I am completely disappointed with myself on that front. More about that later.)
But Amsterdam did look different. It was a sunny weekend after a lot of grim-cloudy weekends and for the first time since we landed in Holland, we saw crowd and hustle-bustle. It was quite refreshing to our Indian souls. We found a bench in strategic place sat around on a bench and just watched people around and talked loudly in Hindi, which we had to pay for later.
It so happened that an unpleasant looking desi (ULD) overheard our conversation (by the way, our conversations are not really suitable for overhearing, as they are mostly very gawaanr like ‘arrey, woh uncleji ko dekh!’ or ‘hey bhagwan, isko thand nahin lag rahi? Kitni choti skirt!!’ )
ULD: Aap kahan se hain?
Me: ‘Bangalore’ – (it has become a habit to say the B’lore instead of India, i think it is more popular than India!)
(I was trying to be the 'pleasant me' thinking he is curious to know about people from his country. Bechara, chalo koi nahin, baat kar lo. Yes, polite conversation basically.)
ULD: Means ki kahan?
Politeness was immediately replaced by a combination of disgust and discomfort.
Me: India
ULD: Haanjee, mujhey lagg raa tha, maine suna hindi, toh mujhey laga…’
(Einstein!)
ULD: Toh aap ji phamily ke saath hain?
Me: Nod
(Discomfort increasing)
ULD:Toh phir koi khabar sunao India ki
Me: Humein bhi nahin pata (I dint know what the heck to say and all this while CK was ignoring his presence trying to pull me into another conversation)
ULD: Ghoomne aaye ho?
Me: Nod
ULD: Kab se ho yahan pe?
Me: Bas abhi 1 week se (My brain was trying to rapidly thinking of ways to get up and leave and therefore churning out such crap!)
ULD: Toh ji aap ko toh pata hoga India ki khabar hum toh yahan pe paanch saal se hain’
Me: Nod (still thinking)
Goes on about some chacha/mama in b’lore.
ULD: B’lore mein kahan rehte hain?’
(Brain tells me to say: why the fuck u want to know?’)
Me: Umm..Bangalore mein’
ULD: Toh app koi company ki taraf se bheja hai ki ghoomne aaye hain?
Me: Apne aap (I knew he had asked this already but the brain was just not multitasking as ever!)
ULD: Toh phir kahan pe rehte hain aap?
I must have looked like a retard because he shifted his gaze and started to ask CK, who thankfully turned around and just said ‘Yeh kuch zyada sawal nahin ho gaye?’
PHEW!
ULD: Ein..zyada ho gaye jee? Achcha nahin poochte chalo
He looked embarrassed and I thought, THANK GOD for CK!
But to our complete disgust,
ULD: Ji last sawal pooch leta hun, aap ko zara chai pila sakte hain?
BOTH: ‘Nahin, thanks’ we said in chorus and walked off.
I never thought THIS is how it would feel like to have a conversation with the first Indian we will meet in a foreign land!
The Weekend After
This weekend was quite a waste I would say! Complete lack of initiative in planning a trip and imagining someone will knock on our door Saturday morning and say ‘Can I take you ladies somewhere?’ And we will just slide into a car and ‘Voila’ we will have seen Europe. Yes, that’s how lazy and shamelessly boring people we had become on this particular weekend.
However, I guess we still had a little bit of shame and we decided to go ‘venture out’ to the city center of Amstelveen (this is like a small square with a lot of expensive shops, where you feel even if you window shop, it will cost you money.
So, we started with checking out a stationery shop, which turned out to be the backside of a mall!! So, we just spent a lot of time inside it and had falafel for lunch (yes, pretty interesting, isn’t it? I love to try out ‘new’ stuff!)
Came out exhausted after an hour. Too much stuff to drool about! Then went to a C&A and bought a sweater each. Please be my guest and guess the color. Yes, it is black and you can roll your eyes till they fall out of your head, but I wanted a heavy black woolen sweater that I could wear with the rest of my black formal stuff.
Came home and secretly sulked about my new black sweater because it has a hood and wont really go with formal trousers. I here by declare myself the Worst Western Wardrobe Shopper of the Century.
The past few weeks and the weekends have been strange. It would seem to the occasional visitor of the blog that I have become too busy in this new fabulous life and there must be so much to write that I don’t know where to begin. It is true, the latter about the too much to write, but not about ‘fabulous life’ Naah aah!
However, I shall begin where I left.
The weekend of the visit to the Van Gogh museum
I was going there on the strict instructions of my dad who is a great admirer of all arts especially Monet and Gogh! (I always think his idea of a ‘teerth yaatra’ would be visiting all such museums and art galleries.) I don’t know how my visit would help his dream of seeing all this in person, but he sounded more excited than me on hearing about the plan. And so I obeyed still thinking what else could I have spent the 10 Euros on instead of the ticket.
(Here, I would like all to know that all the knowledge that I ever had about art was only because of watching dad paint or because of ONE painting book which had the descriptions of all the famous masterpieces with a picture accompanying it.)
So, basically, what I am trying to say is that I cannot look at a painting forever. So, I thought I will be over with it soon.
And of course as usual, I was wrong in my judgment of own likes and dislikes.
It was like entering a new universe for sometime. I didn’t take the audio tour, which is basically hearing whats written next to the pantings and a little bit more. I prefer reading text to hearing text any day!
After staring at some 200 paintings and some 100 sketches, I came out quite enlightened and missing my dad like hell. I could not help thinking about him when I saw original Sunflowers and The Courtesan and actually looking at the pointillist paintings, which dad had tried explaining so many times.
It was a special trip and I hope I can retain in my head all that I saw so that I can tell him in detail about his favorites and more and see the glint in his eyes.
We planned on going on all-museums-trip that day but I didn’t want Van Gogh to fade or get obscured by other things so we decided to laze around in Leidesplein (which is where we went the last time too). We even had the same food, falafel and then a belgian waffle sundae. So much for exploring Amsterdam! (I am completely disappointed with myself on that front. More about that later.)
But Amsterdam did look different. It was a sunny weekend after a lot of grim-cloudy weekends and for the first time since we landed in Holland, we saw crowd and hustle-bustle. It was quite refreshing to our Indian souls. We found a bench in strategic place sat around on a bench and just watched people around and talked loudly in Hindi, which we had to pay for later.
It so happened that an unpleasant looking desi (ULD) overheard our conversation (by the way, our conversations are not really suitable for overhearing, as they are mostly very gawaanr like ‘arrey, woh uncleji ko dekh!’ or ‘hey bhagwan, isko thand nahin lag rahi? Kitni choti skirt!!’ )
ULD: Aap kahan se hain?
Me: ‘Bangalore’ – (it has become a habit to say the B’lore instead of India, i think it is more popular than India!)
(I was trying to be the 'pleasant me' thinking he is curious to know about people from his country. Bechara, chalo koi nahin, baat kar lo. Yes, polite conversation basically.)
ULD: Means ki kahan?
Politeness was immediately replaced by a combination of disgust and discomfort.
Me: India
ULD: Haanjee, mujhey lagg raa tha, maine suna hindi, toh mujhey laga…’
(Einstein!)
ULD: Toh aap ji phamily ke saath hain?
Me: Nod
(Discomfort increasing)
ULD:Toh phir koi khabar sunao India ki
Me: Humein bhi nahin pata (I dint know what the heck to say and all this while CK was ignoring his presence trying to pull me into another conversation)
ULD: Ghoomne aaye ho?
Me: Nod
ULD: Kab se ho yahan pe?
Me: Bas abhi 1 week se (My brain was trying to rapidly thinking of ways to get up and leave and therefore churning out such crap!)
ULD: Toh ji aap ko toh pata hoga India ki khabar hum toh yahan pe paanch saal se hain’
Me: Nod (still thinking)
Goes on about some chacha/mama in b’lore.
ULD: B’lore mein kahan rehte hain?’
(Brain tells me to say: why the fuck u want to know?’)
Me: Umm..Bangalore mein’
ULD: Toh app koi company ki taraf se bheja hai ki ghoomne aaye hain?
Me: Apne aap (I knew he had asked this already but the brain was just not multitasking as ever!)
ULD: Toh phir kahan pe rehte hain aap?
I must have looked like a retard because he shifted his gaze and started to ask CK, who thankfully turned around and just said ‘Yeh kuch zyada sawal nahin ho gaye?’
PHEW!
ULD: Ein..zyada ho gaye jee? Achcha nahin poochte chalo
He looked embarrassed and I thought, THANK GOD for CK!
But to our complete disgust,
ULD: Ji last sawal pooch leta hun, aap ko zara chai pila sakte hain?
BOTH: ‘Nahin, thanks’ we said in chorus and walked off.
I never thought THIS is how it would feel like to have a conversation with the first Indian we will meet in a foreign land!
The Weekend After
This weekend was quite a waste I would say! Complete lack of initiative in planning a trip and imagining someone will knock on our door Saturday morning and say ‘Can I take you ladies somewhere?’ And we will just slide into a car and ‘Voila’ we will have seen Europe. Yes, that’s how lazy and shamelessly boring people we had become on this particular weekend.
However, I guess we still had a little bit of shame and we decided to go ‘venture out’ to the city center of Amstelveen (this is like a small square with a lot of expensive shops, where you feel even if you window shop, it will cost you money.
So, we started with checking out a stationery shop, which turned out to be the backside of a mall!! So, we just spent a lot of time inside it and had falafel for lunch (yes, pretty interesting, isn’t it? I love to try out ‘new’ stuff!)
Came out exhausted after an hour. Too much stuff to drool about! Then went to a C&A and bought a sweater each. Please be my guest and guess the color. Yes, it is black and you can roll your eyes till they fall out of your head, but I wanted a heavy black woolen sweater that I could wear with the rest of my black formal stuff.
Came home and secretly sulked about my new black sweater because it has a hood and wont really go with formal trousers. I here by declare myself the Worst Western Wardrobe Shopper of the Century.
Last weekend
After the most boring last weekend, we decided that in the coming week, we will plan very seriously about going out of silly Amstelveen and certainly not Amsterdam. We will infact plan to go OUTSIDE Holland.
Well, we did exactly that. We planned a lot. Planned to go to Paris, planned to to Disneyland, planned to go to Brussels, and planned to go to Munich.
Comes weekend, and where are we??
In our living room watching ‘Kuch Kuch Hota hai’!
(CK is a big SRK fan. I know, I am really lucky! SRK + Kumar Sanu.)
This weekend beats all others.
Apart from the fact that all our plans remained plans, it was rainy and cold and damp and HORRIBLE!
Then, after whole day of lounging around the house and cooking and eating and doing very little and watching the rain and talking and watching ‘The Blue Umbrella’, we got really tired and couldn’t even think of lying on the bed. We are not used to ‘doing nothing’ really.
So, we picked ourselves up and shoved ourselves in the rain, which had turned into a drizzle at 8:30 in the night and decided we will stroll around the block. The plan was to peep into people’s house to see how the rich Dutch live in this quaint little town. You can imagine how haplessly bored to our bones we were (and a bit demented too).
As we started to walk past a little too closely to the row houses, we realized quite a few houses had ‘sensor’ light bulbs outside the houses. It was a little startling initially but then this was quite an exciting thing if you compare it with the rest of the day. So we went zig-zag in all the rows of the row houses to find out how many houses have the sensor lights by walking past them. This was our idea of fun.
And we walked and walked and giggled every time a light would come on. We talked to the ducks in the canal. We counted how many houses had just old people in it and in how many were occupied by the young. We rated the houses on the way they had decorated the front living rooms. We laughed at the houses which had more than two old people and said ‘oh, they must be having a party!’ And we laughed at the houses which actually had a party because their idea of a party was sitting around a table and only talking. We were having fun finally.
And I thought, after avoiding the rain for the whole day, we were finally wet but more cheerful than we were when we were dry and safe inside. Hmm!
I hope to update the blog more regularly from now onwards (mainly, because my fingers are aching from typing 5 pages! I will never be able to write a book, I think.)
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