Pre-Queens Day

Koninginnedag (Queens Day) is almost upon Holland once again.

No, this does not mean myself and my fellow men all over Holland will be getting out our dresses and applying enough make-up to pass for Mardi Gra dancers. It is in fact the birthday of the Dutch Queen (Royalty not drag). It’s a national holiday and the whole country joins in on the festivities. Amsterdam becomes one big party with beer tents, food stands, market stalls and live music performances every where. You will never see Amsterdam more crowded on any other day and you will also never see so many people wearing orange. Since it is the national color it is every where at the moment. I even had a special Koninginnedag donut with orange icing today.

Koninginnedag would normally be on the 30th but when it falls on a Sunday (like this year) the powers that be move it to the Saturday. This is probably to avoid the productivity of the country taking a sharp nose dive on the Monday when everyone is far to hung over to work. It also avoids people telling their bosses to blame the Queen when they phone in ill.

This weekend is also the last weekend my current flat mate will be in the country which give us both another reason to go out on the town. Once my head and liver have recovered I will report on the days festivities.

Dye Another Day

There are a few stories I am well known for amongst my friends. Stories like the time I got stuck in an elevator, or when I walked on a broken ankle for four hours to drunk to realize. However, the most bizarre story by far is the tale of the time I got my eye lashes dyed to help someone in trouble. I mentioned it briefly on my Stuart's fact list but I was asked to shed a little more light on this strange story.

It started one day when I was still in College. I was in the student art shop looking for (strangely enough) art supplies when a very upset looking girl suddenly approached me. She was almost in tears as she asked for my help and explained her situation. She was a student on the beauticians course and it was the day of an important practical exam. She had to dye someone’s hair. It sounded simple enough. The only catch was it had to be someone with light colored hair and this was the reason for her distress. The person who was going to be her model had fallen ill. She needed to find a replacement fast and since I have light ginger hair she practically pleaded with me to be that replacement.

I wanted to help and seeing what I looked like with dark hair for a little while sounded interesting. So I said yes. She told me where and when the exam was, thanked me again and left. I felt good about myself. I had made someone happy and I went on about my day. Later that day when I arrived she was happy to see I kept my word. After all I was a stranger and might not have shown up. I sat down as the examiner started taking notes. I felt good for helping this girl. She had seemed so upset when she had found me in the morning. I was a knight in shining armor. But then came the question:

“Would you prefer it to be your eye lashes or eye brows?”
“WHAT THE HELL?” shouted my brain.
“Hu?” my mouth said dumbly.

She repeated the question while looking a little nervous. The examiner was standing right there. If I made it to obvious that she left out what part of me would be getting the color change she could lose marks and fail. I tried my best not to let on and told her I wanted my eye brows dyed. She quietly pointed out I might look strange with two caterpillars over my eyes. I told her I wanted my eye lashes dyed. In my mind I was thinking I could just wash it out afterwards.

So I sat there with my eyes shut as she did her work. Eventually it was all done and I could open my eyes. The examiner was happily taking notes. The student asked me if I had any questions so I asked how easy it would be to wash the dye out.

“Oh… it’s permanent.”
“WHAT THE HELL?!” goes my brain.
“Hu?” goes my mouth.

I don’t know if she forgot to tell me these things or she did not want to for fear that I would say no when she asked for my help in the morning. I never found out. I stayed polite so as not to get her in trouble but left as fast as I could.

It was not long before my class mates were enjoying the joke of what had happened and pointing out that I looked like I was wearing mascara. I must have looked like a transvestite who got cold feet at the make up stage. For the following weeks I was wearing sunglasses most of the time, trying to explain to everyone who asked why I looked like a Rocky Horror Show fan as well as spending every available moment in front of a mirror trying to pull my eye lashes out. All that and I didn’t even get her phone number.

Sex Sells

I've already written about one of Hollands well know vices, the drug culture. There is of course another vice which the country is very well known for. Something that brings a particular kind of tourist to certain shady areas of the country to indulge themselves in special ways. Yes, you've guessed it. I'm going to talk about windmills.

Alright. I'm not really going to talk about windmills. I'm going to talk about the sex industry in Holland. Holland has a very open view towards sex and prostitution is legal and regulated in most cases. If you want to see just how open the dutch view towards sex is (or you are on a stag night) you will find no better example then the Red Light District in Amsterdam. It is a network of alleyways containing hundreds of tiny one-room apartments where prostitutes wearing just underwear or bikinis offer their services from behind glass doors. Its also a place where you can find live sex shows, peep shows, sex museums and shops that sell the kind of toys you wont find in London's Hamleys. Amsterdam has the most well known Red Light District but a lot of towns have there own versions as well. Its also not unusual to pass a sex shop in the main street of some towns.

If you come from a more reserved country the red light district is the kind of place you have to see to believe. In someways it is a tourist sight seeing attraction and that is why a lot of tourist go there for a game of Eye-Spy-Ho. Even my parents want to have a look around when ever they visit (at least that's what my dad tells my mum). I've seen other families walking around there too to see if all the stories they have heard are true. However it is still a sex industry area and has its seedy side. You will often see men lined up out side prostitutes doors waiting for their turn and illegal stuff does still happen.

I had a look around a few days after I first arrived in the country (and I've only ever looked). It was a time when I still looked very much like an out of place tourist so as I walked down one of the alleyways all I heard behind me was doors opening and calls of...

"Hello English boy. "
"Over here Ginger boy. "
"Hi red head. "

... I just kept on walking.

When my friends come to visit from England they also want to do a bit of window shopping (even the girls) because like everyone else they can not believe it until they see it with their own two eyes. This is how I ended up going to see one of the live sex shows. This might sound very seedy and in someways it was but in others it was quite an eye opener. I don't mean that I finally found out the true story of where babies come from that night. I mean I was surprised to find out the place was more high tec then some normal theaters I have worked for in the past. They even had a revolving stage and a lighting set up which would make most bands envious. Not all the clientele were brown rain coat wearing men either. Again there were a lot of tourists and couples who just wanted to see the show for the novelty/curiosity factor.

As for the performance itself? Yes, there really where two people on stage having sex and sometimes just a woman alone with more of those toys that are not stocked by Hamleys. Some of the performers looked very bored as if they were following a script which they had done a thousand times before (which is probably just what it is like for them).

Part of the show was interactive as well. There was the woman who fed a banana to a member of the audience but she was not holding it with her hands or even her feet. There was a scary moment when she almost picked me and a friend out of the audience but we sank very low into our seats at that point.

If you are ever in Amsterdam the Red Light District is one of those places you have to see just so you can say you have seen it. However, don't take any photos unless you want a very angry prostitute trying to take your camera away (cameras are banned in the area).

Don Landlord

We've just had our land lord visit to check if everything is in order with the house before we move out next month. Its the first time we've ever met the man face to face since we've usually dealt with another member of his family. I woke up early this morning to tidy the house even though I was feeling a little hung over from a night of drinking with co-workers and making drunk plans to challenge other games companies in a series of dance offs.

Our landlord runs one of the Italian restaurants in town which also seems to be a family business. He's a man of few words and seems to prefer wearing suits. This all added to the effect of him looking like an aging Don when he arrived with his wife and a plumber in tow. We suspected if he really is a Don the plummer was actually a hit man who is involved in 'wet work' that does not include pipes and water.

The whole process had to be done in Dutch since they did not speak much English. Luckily my Scottish flat mate is flaunt in Dutch but this meant I was reduced to smiling and nodding. However so was he when they started talking in Italian amongst themselves.

The reason for the plummer was to check the damaged shower (and luckily not to whack us). We where never able to get them to do anything about it before so I had to fix it myself in my own un-skilled way. Now they are going to have to take the whole floor out to see where the shower is leaking and fix it. The good thing is it seems like they are not going to charge us for it. Maybe it was the day of his daughter's wedding when no Don can refuse to do someone a favor.

However this might mean Don Landlord will ask us for a 'favor' in return one day.

Just The Facts

So you can get to know a bit more about me I have put together a list of random Stuart facts. However, to make things a little more interesting one of these facts is a lie. See if you can spot which one:

• I was born in 1978 in England
• I don’t have any brothers or sisters
• I don’t smoke
• I drink socially but still sometimes too much
• I’m right handed
• I’m dyslexics
• I can’t spell dyslexic with out the aid of a spell checker
• I’m not a morning person
• I get sun burn easily because I’m a red head
• The cartoons on this site are all my own work (the ginger kid is me)
• I moved to Holland in the summer of 2001
• I work for a computer games company in Amsterdam
• Since moving to Holland I suffer from a lot less migraines then I used to
• I love movies
• Horror is my favorite genre
• I really like movies with a clever twist at the end
• Ghostbusters is still my favorite movie from my childhood
• I hate l33t speak
• I broke my ankle and walked around on it for eight hours with out realizing
• I got stuck in the elevator in the office once after everyone else went home
• I have operated a real bomb disposal robot
• I worked in the theatre business as a designer
• I’ve also worked as stage crew
• I worked at the Millennium Dome before it closed
• I accidentally got hit in the privates once while on stage during a live show
• I played the clarinet at school because it got me out of sports lessons
• I once went bungee jumping for a bet even though I did not want to do it
• I think South Park is one of the greatest social commentaries on the world
• I once had my eye lashes dyed to help someone who was in trouble
• I can be shy at times and wish I was more confident
• I think of others before myself in most situations
• Sometimes I play the fool just to get a laugh but regret it later
• I get frustrated with extremely un-decisive people
• I hate to be patronized
• I’m very organized
• I think of myself as a nice guy
• I hate being vain and vain people
• I’m trying to exercise more and eat healthier
• I’m still not really sure what I want to do with my life
• However, I have the ambition to write a book some day
• I’ve been trained by a member of the magic circle
• I love Chinese food
• I'm not a football fan
• I’ve lost at strip poker... and I mean completely lost

Bank Holiday Weekend

I'm not much of a morning person. My brain is never fully in gear when I first wake up and I am sometimes guilty of over sleeping. So this Monday morning when I rolled over and opened my eyes to see the bright red glowing 10:38am staring back at me from my alarm clock a sudden panic set in. You've probably caught onto an important fact here quicker then I did but to better explain here is a short transcript of the thoughts going through my brain at the time:

“Hu? What? NO! I'm late!”

Cluck. Click. Fizzle. Brain start up sequence engaged....

“Really late! Dam!”

Synapses firing....

“Wait a second.”

Brain On-line....

“It's a bank holiday. Yessssssss!”

Re-entering sleep mode....

“ZZZzzzzzzzz”

There's nothing like a little confused morning panic to make you really appreciate a day off. Not only do we get a long weekend but we get a shorter week that follows. Bonus.

So far this bank holiday weekend I have, cleaned the house, caught up with friends, visited the fun fair that has been set up in the main square just around the corner from my house (more info for you stalkers), been to the cinema and tried Dutch Poffertjes for the first time.

So what does today hold in store?

Hopefully as little as possible. I've just got back from the video store with 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang' and 'Transporter 2' to keep me occupied as I laze on the sofa. I don't know much about the plot of 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang' but I have been told it is very good. I am not expecting much from 'Transporter 2' but hopefully it will have the right dosage of guns and explosions to distract my male mind from the plot if it turns out to be bad.

All this and still not a chocolate egg in site.

Moving

In just a few weeks time I will be moving house. This is something I have been putting off writing about for a little while. I think part of me was trying to put off thinking about it due to the uncertainty of what I would be doing with my housing situation. However, now that I am finally writing about it here is a summary of the posts you would have read:

Post 1: In which Stuart feels guilty for worrying about his living situation when his Scottish flatmate starts looking for a new job in England.

Post 2: In which Stuart knows its only natural to worry about his housing arrangement but still feels guilty for not just being able to wish his flatmate good luck in his career advancement.

Post 3: In which Stuart is asked by another friend if he wants to be his new flatmate and Stuart accepts, no longer feeling worried or guilty.

So now you are up to date. We've handed in our notice at our current place and soon my Scottish flat mate will be moving to England and I will be moving from Haarlem (now you know the town I live in at the moment the stalkers amongst you have only a few weeks to find me) to another town on the other side of Amsterdam. As a bonus there is even a complimentary kitty in the deal. No, my new flat mate is not offering a feline sacrifice. He has a pet cat.

It's going to be a shame to see my Scottish flat mate go. It's been fun sharing the house for five years and we have a few funny drunken stories. I've been friends with my new flat mate for just as long so I'm not worried about sharing a house with him. It might take a little while for me to stop feeling like just a guest though but it was the same when I first moved in with my current flat mate.

If our current land lord does not give us any hassle about moving out (there has been some damage to the house that is not our fault) the move starts next month.

Rock On

Although it was only short lived I have decided to give up my acting career. I have now found my true calling and it is time to embrace it. I am destined to be a Rock God like Ziggy Stardust and lead my band 'Stuart and The Invaders' to glory.

What the hell am I talking about you ask? This week the PS2 game Guitar Hero has swept through the office faster then any cold or flu and has got everyone more addicted then crack. The game is a guitar playing simulator (with a guitar shape controller) and allows players to feel like they are playing their favorites rock songs. Last Friday work came to an abrupt halt when someone brought their copy in to the office. Everyone was scrambling to have a go. Since then more then half the people in my department have bought their own. Most of the girls in the office (which there are 8 of in a company of 140) don't understand what we are obsessing about but that's part of what makes it a boy's toy.

I was finally able to get my hands on my own today and just sent several hours rocking out in my front room with my axe (guitar for those of you not in the rock business). I'm completely addicted and lost count of how many time I played I Love Rock and Roll, Ziggy Stardust, The Ace of Spades and most of the other songs that come with the game.

I have not yet named my axe which I have been told I am supposed to do if I want to be a true rock god. Any suggestions are welcome. Maybe I'll even paint the winning name on it and post the photo.

If you feel an urge to scream out the word 'nerd' at any point while reading this post please remember I work in the computer games industry which means doing so would be redundant.

Double Dutch

When I first moved to Holland I was not sure how much of a language barrier there would be. I knew very little about the country or it language. I started reading a phrase book before I arrived but I later found out I was pronouncing everything from it horribly. Luckily for me it turned out the language barrier is only small, almost unmeasurable. There is a lot of English language culture here from TV to books. One of my Dutch friends even learnt to speak English from watching the A-Team as a child. However I have yet to hear him, “Pitty the fool.”

I have only met a handful of people that could not speak English. My first encounter with a Dutch person who could not (or maybe chose not to) was a girl at the bar in a night club. She turned to me and said something I did not understand. When I told her so in English she said something else and walked away. I will never know if she was saying "You're really cute" or "You're standing on my foot."

Since then I have made attempts to learn the language. I first learnt to count in Dutch from late night television and my Dutch co-workers quickly taught me swear words and chat up lines which would most likely lead to me getting slapped. However, we also had lessons which were arranged by the company. Our first Dutch teacher seemed to be a bit of an old pervert however. This was largely due to the fact that whenever he got us to translate a story he had written himself it was always about watching young girls in bars. Somehow I got the impression they were written from personal experiences. I'll never forget the rather creepy context and way he explained the Dutch translations for 'Slender Back'. Luckily we never had to translate, “It puts the lotion on its skin.”

For a long time, “Ik heb geen idee wat u zegt,” was a phrase I seemed to be using a lot but I have gotten better over time and can now have some basic conversations. However, after five years I still feel my Dutch language skills are lacking. The trouble is I never really get the chance to practice. I know this is poor excuse and I should make more of an effort but when ever things get awkward or difficult I slip back into English.

I will continue trying to learn the language and speak it. Who knows... maybe the next time a cute girl turns to me and says something in her sexy Dutch voice I'll be able to understand her... and get off her foot.

...Gone Tommrow

I did just what I said I would do. I've had my hair cut. My passport photo and a blocked shower are now the only evidence that I ever had long hair.

I had my hair cut by a girl who reminded me a little of Kelly Osborn because of her hair and the way she dressed. She suggested I go for a more messy short hair look. It felt a little strange at first to be losing the long hair as she started to cut but that feeling faded quickly. I've never had the out of bed look (at least not on purpose) but I think I like it. Its great not to have my hair constantly getting in the way of my face any more. I don't know why I put up with it for so long and didn't have it cut sooner. However, the one unforchanet thing about it is rocking out to Bohemian Rhapsody will never be the same again.

I've already had a few people say I look much better with the new cut and I'm looking forward to the amusement of seeing a few surprised faces at work on Monday. Maybe its something to do with the start of spring but the change in hair style also got me thinking about making a few other small changes to my image. I'm going to go clothes shopping later in the week and I might even be crazy enough to start going back to the gym if this new hair cut makes me less lazy.

The Oscor Goes To...

Things have been both amusing and embarrassing at work today. Today I joined the likes of Tom Cruse and Johny Depp. Today I was not a designer. Today I was an actor.

Making a computer game is a lot of work and requires a lot of different elements. Two of these elements are cut scenes and dialog. Sometimes to get them right we have to create tests before making the final version. None of us are actors but this involves filming ourselves acting out the cut scenes and recording our voices for the dialog.

Today I have had to do just that. I spent an amusing few hour trying not to trip over my lines or laugh at the results. I also had to walk around with a block of plastic pretending it was a gun while trying to act like anything but the most mild mannered marine you have ever heard. In my head I sound like Jean-Claude Van Damme but on the recording I sounded more like Jean-Claude Gosh Darn. The results were very funny and I will have to try desperately to keep a straight face and not cringe during the next team presentation.

However, the whole company has already been witness to my award winning acting skills thanks to one of our animaters who emailed the footage to everyone. I don't know how to 'thank' her for this publicity yet so if you have any ideas please let me know.

I promise when I win an Oscar I will not let it go to my head. I will remember where I came from and include you all in my acceptance speech for my winning role.

In other work related news: The junk in the office has finally been sorted out over the last few days. As a computer game company we go through a lot of hardware which either has to be given away, stripped down for parts or thrown out. So I give you a photo of the place where monitors go to die.

Flash

Just a few moments ago my life flashed before my eyes. I thought it was all over and there was nothing I could do. It seemed like it was going to be the end and I got that horrible sinking feeling of things being out of control.

Luckily for me it still re-booted and (despite a slight dent the wireless card) it still works. That's the first and last time I drop my laptop on the floor.

Hair Today...

I have been looking back over the last 16 months and reflecting on a choice I made. It was a choice which set me on the path I am on and now it has lead me to a new, much harder decision. Its something I have had to think about a lot. It will not be easy. There are going to be repercussions. It is going to be a heavy blow for man kind. It is the kind of decision which will strike fear into the hearts of mortal men and women, shake the very foundation of our society and cast a black cloud over our future... I'm going to cut my hair.

About 16 months ago I started to grow my hair after a few people suggested long hair might suit me. I'd had short hair all my life and trying something different seemed like a good idea. I'd already spent a little time with a beard just to try it out but had ended up shaving it off. Now that I think about it at the time I might have been trying to change my image through hair. I don't know what this new image might have become. Maybe a ginger Wookie.

However after having got my hair down to almost shoulder length I have decided I want to go back to short hair. I plan to get an appointment some where that can give me advice on what would look good (hopefully they will not say long hair) and cut it. In a way I'll miss having long hair, the joys of combing out tangles, unplugging blocked sinks and trying to keep it under control and out of my eyes...

Someone pass me some scissors.

Drunk Photo of Amsterdam

Yesterday was the last day of the current design department lead (my boss). I've seen a few come and go but we all really got along with this one so it was sad to see him go. As is tradition we all took him down to the pub in Amsterdam to drink heavily and say goodbye.

Nights out with work friends are always interesting, especially if one is leaving. Conversations always inevitably turn to work no matter how hard we try to avoid it. I believe this can sometimes be a very a good thing. On occasion issues get resolved when people are more willing to speak their mind because they have had a bit to drink. However it can also go the other way and make things worse. Luckily in my experience this has not happened yet and drunk talk about work usually leads to interesting new ideas or appreciated complements both given and taken.

Last night I didn't really want to stay too late because I was feeling tired and it had been a hard week (plus I did not want a heavy hang over the next day). I craved the comfort of my sofa. However every time the bottom of my glass was in sight I was quickly offered another fuller glass. Maybe its the polite Englishman in me or the English love of beer but I could not turn down the offers. Eventually I managed to resist the call of beer, say goodbye and left before the point of no return.


However, I was obviously more drunk then I thought. As I walked towards the train station my intoxicated brain realized I had not yet used the camera on my new phone. So I decide it was a good time to try it out and proceeded to take random photos of stuff as I progressed (possibly with a slight stumble) down the street. Points of interest along my route included the rather phallic National Memorial statue, the building site that is Amsterdam Central Station and random shots of the main street. Maybe I have discovered a new form of art but I some how doubt it. If an art gallery does show interest in my post modern drunk phone photos I'll have to dedicate them to my old boss. I wish him good luck in the future.