Holland vs. The Netherlands

Since living in Holland I’ve had a surprising amount of conversations with people that did not realize The Netherlands and Holland are names for one and the same country. Obviously these are not conversations I have been having with Dutch people. They seem to have caught onto this fact due to insider knowledge.

I’ve been told the reason for the two names is much like the way England is referred to as Great Britain and/or The United Kingdom sometimes. Holland is only the name for two Western provinces with in The Netherlands. Technically this might mean my blog should be called ‘Invading the two Western provinces with in the Netherlands’ but luckily for me Holland is used to refer to the entire country in most cases now.

This might sound confusing but it is not as confusing as the wedding invite I was once sent by an old college friend which was addressed to me in The Neverlands. As much as I would like to think otherwise I am pretty sure I have aged in the five years I have been here and I think the only way to see Tinkerbell is to spend too long in a Amsterdam coffee shop. Of course it’s always possible that she thought I was living with Michael Jackson.

Insomniac TV

Its late and I seem to be suffering from a small amount of insomnia again for the third night in a row. This means I have been spending the time I should be sleeping surfing from site to site on the Internet and flicking from channel to channel on the TV in search of entertainment which will hopefully help my brain switch off.

I have quite a few channels to choose from when wearing out the batteries of the remote control and luckily for me the Dutch only subtitle English spoken shows instead of re-dubbing them. However, when looking for something to watch past midnight there is only one thing that can be found….. sex phone line commercials.

They are everywhere. Even on the main stream channels. Starting at midnight they all start to show more and more of these ads between programs until they are showing nothing else. During my teenage years I might have stayed up late to sneakily catch a peek at the 15 minutes adult channel previews which were less explicit then some of these adverts but I’ve grown up a bit since then (maybe that is just a fancy way of saying I need better porn). I want some normal entertainment. I'll even take a Jean-Claude Van Damme or Steven Seagal movie at this point.

It was surprising to see these kind of commercials on normal late night television when I first moved to this country but now they seem almost normal and blasé, simply a sign that I have stayed up too late and should go to bed. However, I do owe something to the women on these commercials. There was one way in which they helped me when I was alone in this country and knew no one. Listening to the phone numbers being read out taught me how to count in Dutch. This is also why I can count in a very sexy voice.

Nul... Een... Twee... Drie...

Old Timer

The company I work for has a great way of solving problems sometimes.

Problem:
Employees bring crates of beer into the office at the end of every Friday and all the rooms end up becoming a mess of empty beer bottles and full ash trays (plus there was the time we cellotaped one of the designers to his chair).

Solution:
Buy lots and lots of beer on Friday for the employees but only allow them to drink it in one room to contain the mess.

With spring starting hopefully they will let us start using the garden again as well. We used to have great fun with drunken water fights on a Friday night because the company had given us all Super Soakers for the Christmas before.

But last night as I drank my company payed for bottle of beer and chatted with my coworkers I realized something..... I'm old.

I was not thinking about the amount of birthdays I have had. I was thinking about how long I have been working for the company compared to most of the others. As I looked around the room I realized I didn't really know quite a few of the people I was drinking the company's money with. There seems to be new fresh faces in the office almost every day.

When I joined it was a small company. Since then I've watched people come and go. The company has changed names, changed owners and changed buildings. In fact last Wednesday was five years to the day I had my interview.

In a strange way I like being one of the old timers of the company. It makes me feel like part of a select group. Like someone who knows what these new members will go through and can laugh at the way they think because its how I used to think. As if I now know secrets they will have to learn over time just as I did.

Who knows, maybe one day I'll be in a rocking chair surrounded by young hopeful game designers, “Oh yes. I worked on a computer game once before you had your new fangled holograms.”

Chance Encounters

It was a cold winters night in Amsterdam just a few weeks ago. She looked at me and smiled. I returned her smile and looked away shyly, not sure what to say or do. The first flakes of white snow started to fall as we walked side by side. I had only just met her 15 minutes before but I already felt like I knew so much about her. She looked into my eyes, told me she would like to see me again and offered me her phone number. With the blizzard of snow falling around us it was all quite magical....

At least it would have been if she had not been older than my mother, had an accent that was hard to understand, far too open and trusting with details about her personal life and making me feel very, very awkward indeed. However she had asked me to help her carry her heavy shopping on and off the tram and I was trying to be polite. She almost forcefully tried to make me memorize her phone number before leaving. I politely made an excuse and quickly left for the train when she tried to get me to take the bus with her.

However this is not the strangest situation of someone trying to pick me up. The strangest was another night in Amsterdam before Christmas. I was waiting for a train home with my flat mate but he had quickly gone to another platform to find a toilet.

“Is dit het spoor voor Haarlem ?” Asked the elderly gentleman who had just approached me.

“Yes it is.” I replied in English.

He looked a little strange with his bushy gray beard, white woolen coat and the set of gold window blinds he was carrying. He was surprised to realize I was English and started chatting to me because he said he liked to practice his language skills.

He was on his way to a friends birthday party. The blinds were a present which he had painted himself. According to his stories he was an artist of some fame. then at one point he took out what looked like a snuff tin, started to tip its contents onto his hand and then licked it off. He asked me if I wanted some but I turned down the strange offer. It was at this point it suddenly dawned on me. This eccentric dutch artist was a gay eccentric dutch artist and he was trying to pick me up.

Finally my flat mate returned and seemed to catch on quicker then I had. I think he enjoyed watching me trying to deal with the embarrassing situation. When the train arrived the eccentric artist got on with us and started to excitedly tell us stories about himself. He became more animated as he did so.

Eventually we parted ways. Some of the stories he told us seemed true, others may have been exaggerations and the rest I'm not sure were true at all. However, some of his stories made it sounded like his life had be hard. This made me feel bad that my first reaction to him (when I realized what was going on) was to panic a little (I don't think of myself as homophobe). He was eccentric, maybe a little crazy but in the end he was a harmless, friendly old man. However I think it goes with out saying that it remains the strangest story of someone flirting with me.

In Hindsight...

It just occurred to me that it might not have been such a smart idea to give the name 'Invading Holland' to my blog about my life in The Netherlands. Since the country was once invaded by the Germans some Dutch people might take this the wrong way.

However, since most of the Dutch people at the office jokingly shout, “The Germans are back,” when ever they hear any kind of alarm go off I don't think I really have much to worry about. Too late now anyway I guess.

“Will you stop talking about the war.”

“Well you started it.”

“No we didn't”

“Yes you did. You invaded Poland.”

Static-Man To The Rescue

It’s something to do with the carpet in the office or I’m slowly developing mutant super powers. What ever it is I have started giving static electric shocks to everyone at the office.

When I tapped a fellow designer on the shoulder the other day (because he had his headphones on and could not hear me trying to get his attention) I made him jump a mile. Not because I had simply caught him by surprise but because of the sudden and powerful static electric shock I had given him while doing so. Forget about difibulater. If anyone has a heart attack in the office I might just be able to bring them back with a touch of my finger.

I also managed to give a shock to one of the checkout girls at the near by supermarket when paying for my lunch. I think I missed a good opportunity for a chat up line there. “Did you feel that spark between us?”

If I could only find a way to harness this power at home I might be able to make my electric bills cheaper.

Pass The Dutchie On The Left Hand Side

How could I write a blog about life in Holland and not talk about drugs.

Holland is well known for it's coffee shops and semi blind eye on drug laws. It is also a popular belief that every Dutch person is constantly stoned, wears clogs, eats cheese, lives in a windmill and knows the price and proper etiquette when dealing with prostitutes in the Red Light District. However this is not true… sometimes they wear trainers (all joking aside this stereotype is not true).

The Dutch as a whole are a very friendly people but not everyone on the street who asks, “Charlie?” is inquiring about your name. This could lead to some confusion if your name actually is Charlie. You may end up being given what seems to be a very expensive and ineffective washing powder.

If you're ever in Amsterdam and you fit with in their target market (look like a tourist or have the recognizable 'Junkie Shuffle') you'll find lots of people on the street whisper names of drugs as you pass by. Its not the most affective way of advertising their goods but setting up a stall with a sign in the middle of Dam Square could lead to some trouble. You'll find a lot of these characters hang around near the Red Light District which would explain why one once tried to offer me Viagra as I was taking a short cut through the area.

When I tell people I live in Holland most of them react by saying "I bet you must be smoking weed all the time dude." Well to be honest... no. I know a lot of people who do smoke it but (apart from a few times) I don't myself. I did however spend the first few months getting stoned through passive smoking from my Scottish flat mate and a few of our friends until my body got used to it.

The first time I actually tried it for myself was when my friend NH came over to visit. We got a little carried away and tried weed that was too strong for us. At first everything was fine but when the room started to move on its own accord I began to feel ill and very paranoid. Although NH denies the weed had an effect on him I think he was feeling paranoid too because when I opened the window for some fresh air he started shouting, “Don't jump! Close the window!”

I have tried weed again since then and not had the same trouble. However, last time it did leave me with the very strange sensation that one eye was bigger then the other for a while.

Although I've only smoked weed about three times in the whole five years I have been in Holland I always find it strange whenever I'm back in England that I don't even have the option. I hear people talk about how they are struggling to get weed and it all has to be done in secret and there is me, a non-smoker, thinking, “I can just go to the coffee shop around the corner from my house and get some if I wanted it.”

But then I never say that because the reaction of most people is to say, “Sweet. Can you bring us some over next time?”

Head hurt. Beer bad.

Why is it that unplanned nights out always seem to lead to higher levels of drunkenness and more painful hang overs the next day? I had planned for a quite night in this Friday since I was going to be going to Club Rascal tonight. However, boozy destiny intervened in the form of an email that popped into my in-box towards the end of the day inviting everyone to a near by bar for birthday drinks.

It was a nice bar with a good atmosphere and friendly staff. When one of my friends asked if he was allowed to smoke weed he was told yes as long as he shared it. That's how a group of us ended up standing in the kitchen sharing a joint with the bar staff (I'm not a smoker myself but I'll talk about that more later). More beer was drunk and things get very vague around the time we left to go to the Absinthe Bar. After that things pretty much became a blank until I woke up this morning.

One of my friends who has tried quite a few drugs in his past told me that no come down hurts as much as a bad hangover. Right now I think he must be right. This morning my head felt like some one took a baseball bat to it while I was asleep. I actually used the words, “Please make the hurty pain stop.” when having a conversation with someone. I'm still not feeling a 100% right now and its been a very slow day of trying not to think more than is absolutely needed because it hurt.

So much for a quite Friday night.

New Phone

I just bought myself a new phone. My old one was in bad shape. The number nine key on it was broken after I dropped it in a puddle. Since I was using a 'pay as you go' phone this meant things were difficult when ever I got a phone card with the number nine in it. They became even more difficult because the option to get someone to help me with adding credit to my phone was also on the number nine when using the automated phone line. After a few days of shouting 'I can't press nine' at my phone I went out and got the new one I have now. This might not sound like blog worthy news but I decided to get a phone with a contract instead for the first time..... a two year contract in fact.

I now realize that this means I have signed up for two more years of living in Holland. Since I have only just started this blog about my life in the country this is most likely a good thing. I have no plans to leave Holland any time soon anyway but realizing I have signed a bit of paper stating so just feels a little strange. But anyway...... at least looking at my new shiny phone can distract me from this.

Owwww...... shiny.

Bed & Breakfast Cheese McMuffin

“You should get the taxi back with us.” NH suggested.

“Na. It's alright. I'll still be able to get the night bus back... but thanks anyway.” I replied with a slight slur. There might have been a hic-up too.

It was the big night out with my friends before I moved to Holland. The farewell night in London Town and I was drunk, very drunk but still convinced I had enough of my senses about me to get home alright.

NH and his girl friend KD were trying to convince me to take the cab back with them but they lived quite far away and I really just wanted to get home. After they had left I discovered my mistake. All the trains and buses had stopped running. I was stuck in the middle of London. Looking back now I realize I should have simply got a cab but drunken logic was at the helm. I got the idea into my intoxicated head that if I could not survive a night in London (a city I know) how could I survive in Amsterdam.

At first I thought I could wait until morning for public transport to start running again. However, after about an hour of walking around and having sung my way through most of Queens greatest hits I realized just how bored I was and how much my feet were starting to hurt (but still not realizing how drunk I was). I needed to find something to do till morning..... but what?

Like the Northern Star guiding lost sailors my prayers were answered in the form of a glowing M, a large yellow glowing M no less. I had just found the McDonald's at Charing Cross station and it was open 24 hours.

I had no plans to eat burgers continually until morning. I knew there was already a hang over on its way and I did not fancy adding a heart attack. However, beer vision made those hard plastic benches suddenly look very comfortable. You can probably now guess where I am going with this. Yes, I decided to sleep in McDonald's that night and it seemed I was not the only one who had the idea either. There were a few other clubbers who had obviously gotten themselves into a similar situation and drunkenly passed out in the quiet down stairs section of the restaurant for the night.

It was not the most comfortable sleep I have ever had and I think it made my hang over much worse. In the morning I literally must have looked like a zombie as I stumbled down the road sober-ish but to tired to keep my eyes fully open. No matter how terrible I felt I had a bizarre feeling of accomplishment. I had survived a night trapped in London. This must have meant I was ready for Holland..... Right? Well..... I never said hung over logic was better then drunk logic.

I just hope I will never be forced to do the same in Holland with Febo.

Unexpected Beginning

I spent a while trying to work out what to write as my first blog. It seemed like a good idea to just start at the beginning of the story that led to me unexpectedly moving to Holland.

It was 2001. After three years of studying theater Design I spent a few months working here and there at different venues, mainly as stage crew but occasionally as a designer. I was enjoying the work but I could not ignore that it was not very profitable. It was around this time that I got the idea from a friend to try using my design skills in the computer game industry. Surely it was just like doing set designs but in a computer..... Right?

So I applied to a few companies but hear much back. I was starting to think it was not going to happen..... Until I found a rather strange and cryptic job advertisement in a British gaming magazine. It had no address, no phone number. In fact it had very few details. All it really had was a dot com email address. This might sound like it could have lead to me falling victim to a gang of black market human organ dealers using a games company as a front but it some how looked interesting so I took the chance.

Imagine my surprise when I was offered an interview and I found out it was in Holland. At this point I had no plans to move to another country but they were offering to pay for my flights. I would have sometime for sight seeing while I was there so at the very least it was a free day trip to Amsterdam. I was not thinking about the fact that I might actually be offered the job..... Which I was.

Whenever there is an opportunity I know I should not pass up but I am nervous about I have the habit of thinking other people would not have a problem with doing it so neither should I. So I took the job. Most people who knew me back then would never have imagined me moving to another country. Neither would have I at the time to be honest. I used to be kind of shy and quiet compared to how I am now. Not only was I moving to an unfamiliar country but up until that point I was also still living with my parents. That made it an even bigger change in my life.

I had two months to get myself ready before moving to Holland but it was not until I got there that the full gravity of what I was doing hit me. I don't mind admitting that on that night, alone in a hotel room with a TV that did not work I got very scared. I wanted to go home. It was the scariest thing I have ever done in my life..... It was also the best thing I have ever done in my life.

Five years on I am still living in Holland and still enjoying it. The first few months might have been very hard for me but they gave me the confidence boost I very much needed. It changed my life in a positive way and it also gave me a lot of funny stories to share.

Plus I still have both my kidney's which is a bonus.