Ik wil mijn fiets berijden (I want to ride my bicycle)

Fiets (bicycles) are a very common sight in Holland. They are a popular mode of transport and it is estimated that there are more then 16 million of them in the country. This number may or may not include the mangled, rusting, one-wheeled, non-roadworthy bicycles found chained to lamp posts, bridges or sunk at the bottom of the canals around the country. Even if it does there are still a lot of them in use every day.

Some bicycles look like rusty old frames that have been handed down through the family generation after generation. In most of these cases the locks seem to cost more then the bikes themselves and there is no need for a bell since the squeaking of the wheels is enough to give any pedestrian a fair warning. Some Dutch people like to paint or decorate their old bikes as well. When visiting Amsterdam it is usually guaranteed that you will see at least one bicycle chained to a bridge somewhere that has been decorated with plastic flowers or painted with bright circular patterns to make them more unique. Another reason for this could be to turn away bicycle thieves.

Unfortunately, Holland has a big problem with bicycle theft. It’s not unusual to see a shifty looking junky walking around with a stolen bike asking, “Fiets kopen?” ("Buy a bike?"). If they are able to sell it to someone for 10 or 15 euros it does not take long for that person to then lose the same bicycle to another junky later. It’s a perpetual cycle (no pun intended). It is said that having your bike stolen makes you a true Dutch person and it is a right of passage for all expatriates. I have not had my bike stolen yet but I did have it taken away once when the authorities thought it had been dumped (I got it back though).

Despite the risk of theft there are some more modern looking bicycles around (as well as the old) but the one thing you will hardly ever see is a mountain bike. This might be because you will hardly ever see any mountains, hills, valleys, declines or inclines in Holland and using a mountain bike for speed bumps would be over excessive. Holland is a very flat country but this is also part of what makes it a very good place for cycling.

There is over 4,500 miles of cycle path through out the country and a surprising amount of tourists mistake them for foot paths. This intrusion of territory (as they see it) is not always met with understanding by some cyclists. Some will leave it until the last possible second to ring their bell to let pedestrians (victims) know of their stealthy approach. When this happens the best thing to do is to pick a direction and jump because you won’t have any time to look around and judge the right direction to dodge anyway.

For a Dutch person a bike is not just a one person vehicle either. The rack on the back can be used as a second seat for a passenger who is willing to sit sideways and risk having their knees knocked off by any passing objects. I myself have accidentally jammed my feet into the back wheel of a bicycle (that I was the passenger on) in the past because it got too close to sign posts and parked cars for comfort.

It’s hard to say why cycling is so popular in Holland (compared to other countries). It could be because traffic laws favour bicycles over cars or that it is a way of staying healthy. It could also be that they are an easy way to get from one place to another and when all the available parking spots are full there are still lampposts, bridges, fences and other city objects that bicycles can be chained to. Maybe they simply like to terrorise pedestrians with them or they all liked the song Bicycle Race by Queen. Whatever the real reason is the Dutch seem to love their bicycles.

I'm not the only one who has noticed this either. A fellow ex-pat has also written about the Dutch fondness of the two wheeled transport.

Power Cut

They say silence is golden but I disagree. Silence is not so appealing when it is the result of a power cut you accidentally caused.

There are a lot of wires under my desk that power the computers, monitors and various other items of electrical equipment on my desk and those of the people near me. So when my foot accidentally caught the switch on one of the multi plug blocks today and turned it off all three desks (mine included) lost power. Half the room fell silent.

I tried to fix the problem as quickly as I could, apologizing while I crawled under my desk to turn everything back on but that turned out to be a mistake. The abrupt demand of electricity it caused when it all simultaneously came back to life forced the circuit breakers to shut everything down and the whole room suddenly went silent. You never realize how loud a computer fan is until they all suddenly go off at once. Silence is not golden. Silence is filled with the swearing of co-workers.

I had not just cut power to our room either. I managed to take out the power to a few of the servers used by the entire company at the same time. Everything is working again now but you can imagine how I felt.

I am Stuart. Destroyer of servers. Opps.

Chip and a Chair

A few weeks ago I started playing Texas Hold’em Poker. I had never really played it that much before but I have been enjoying it a lot lately as my understanding of the game has improved. I enjoy the element of strategy vs. luck and a successful bluff always feels like an achievement when successfully scaring someone away if I have a bad hand or tricking them into betting more if I have a good hand. I am still a young rookie but I am quite pleased with the way I have been playing for my level. I’ve been in the last round of quite a few games already.

My first attempt at playing poker was during my college years and did not go so well. I didn’t lose money and fall into massive debt but I did have to give them the shirt off my back. My shirt was not the only item of clothing I lost either. We were playing strip poker.

I can’t claim that it was not having an understanding of the rules that made me lose. However, I can blame the alcohol. We were all fairly drunk but I was the only one drunk enough to be playing a different game entirely to the others. A few minutes (and items of clothing) into the game I was asked a question that made me realize my mistake.

“Stuart. Why did you just pick up two cards from the deck?” One of the girls asked me.

“Because a two was just put down and I didn’t have one,” I slurred back.

There was a short puzzled silence before she asked, “Are you playing Black Jack?”

“So that’s why I am losing,” I suddenly realized.

Even when I started playing the right game it did not do me much good. We were playing no-limit poker and I lost everything.

Luckily the last few games have gone a little better and I am very happy to say that we have been betting with poker chips instead of clothes. I think there has to be at least a 1:1 girl/boy ratio for playing strip poker to be legal.

My house mate and I have already set up a regular poker night with some friends (we had our second this weekend). I bought a nice set of poker chips a few weeks ago and the other day my house mate got a poker mat for the table. If we carry on we believe it will only be a few weeks before we get a roulette wheel, some slot machines and turn the house into the first in a chain of Invading Holland Casinos. Anyone who would like to apply for a job as a croupier or a member of bar staff should leave their application in the comments. Available positions are only temporary since it may only take a few days for us to be arrested for gambling with out a license.

A Day in the Life of a Game Designer

My job keeps me very busy sometimes. I started writing a post earlier this week (which will still be coming later) but events have kept me occupied most of the time over the last few days. A lot of people I talk to think working in the computer games industry involves playing games all day and typing in a few bits of code here and there. Sadly it doesn’t even though it is still an enjoyable job.

My work day starts very early in the morning. It’s very early for me at least because I am not much of a morning person. I find it very hard to wake up which is why I sometimes look like an extra from a George A Romero movie as I stumble blindly towards the shower. A lot of people tell me I should drink coffee in the morning but I am cursed with an un-natural disliking of the black liquid (but I will drink it in extreme cases). I usually wake up during my train journey to work (or run the risk of waking up in Den Haag). If the train does not do the trick the tram usually does. Nothing wakes you up like having a tourist’s armpit get intimate with your face.

The work day usually begins with the obligatory checking of e-mail and a quick bit of internet surfing before the start of meetings, lua scripting, more meetings, polygon pushing, even more meetings, error fixing and other nerdy things that I should probably not bore you with or risk breaking my non-discloser agreement with. Trust me; it’s a lot of complicated stuff.

Lunch time is usually spent dodging the clip board holders doing surveys or collecting for charity on the streets. I’m not an unsympathetic person but they are on the street outside our office every day and every day at least five of them try to stop me with in the twenty meter walk to the near by supermarket on the way there an on the way back. After awhile it’s enough to drive anyone a little crazy.

Sometimes a group of us go out to one of the local cafes or restaurants for lunch. This week we were treated to a rather strange sight as we ate at a Dim Sum restaurant. As we all fiddled with out chop sticks we heard screaming outside. The sound kept on going back and forth as if someone was running past the restaurant every few minutes. When we looked out the window we saw a man jumping out in front of the passing trams, running along in front of them and screaming. Eventually he would jump out of the way, wait for another tram to come from the other direction and do the same. For a while we thought he was mad until we spotted the camera crew. Judging by the bags he was carrying as he waved his arms about and screamed they must have been filming a commercial for Media Markt.

The second part of the work day is usually much the same. However, this week I got to shout into a microphone again as I barked military commands for use in the game. It is only going to be used for temporary dialog until we get some real voice actors but it is surprisingly fun and therapeutic to spend half an hour screaming in a sound proof booth (even if I lost my voice afterwards). I was happy that this time I managed to sound slightly less like a timid teenage commander going through puberty.

Most work days usually end like any other but at the end of the week comes Friday and every second Friday at the office is free beer night. The reason for this is a while ago the company had a small problem. That problem was that employees would 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).

The solution to this problem that they chose was to buy lots and lots of beer every second Friday for the employees but only allow them to drink it in one room to contain the mess.

Everyone was happy with this and it just happens to be Friday night so I better rap this post up and get my free beer before it is all gone. Life working in the games industry might not be non-stop game playing all day but at least there is beer.

Montage Inc™

Movie montages have shown us that anything is possible with a few camera cuts and some 80s music. They are the greatest un-tapped resource in the world today and the possibilities they offer are endless. However, this resource has never been made available to the public… until now.

Having noticed this gap in the market my flat mate and I have decided to start the company Montage Inc. Our goal is to offer the public the kind of easy self improvement only seen previously in movies such as Rocky.

Standard Montages:
Do you want to achieve something easily and fast? Montage Inc offers a wide range of montages to for fill you needs.

- Training/Learning:
This is one of our most popular packages due to its flexibility. In the past customers have used it for sports training, artistic training or training related to a job and/or education (some colleges have banned the use of montages by students). This package comes with a selection of optional 80s music including Eye of the Tiger, I Need a Hero, Footloose and more.

- Dating:
Want to charm that special someone? Let montages help your love life with a collection of date highlights. The strength of montage needed depends on how much your date likes you to start with. Customers wanting to use this package must provide ID proving they are over 18.

- Shopping:
This package is most popular with the ladies. However, our market research has recently shown that men have also chosen this package to make shopping trips with their wife/girlfriend as short as possible.

- Building:
This package was made popular by the A-Team in the 80’s. It is also a very flexible package due to the many things that can be built with it from a small sculpture to a huge battle tank. Other available montages: Building a business, cleaning, competition participation, writing, investigation and social interaction (becoming popular) montages.

Strength of Montage:
The strength of the montage required will be affected by the difference between the customer’s ability pre-montage and their desired result post-montage. Small changes will only require a mintarge (minimum montage) with long camera shots and slow music. More extreme changes will require a maxtarge (maximum montage) with quick camera cuts and fast music. More then one montage a day may also be required.

Travel Montage: Our research department has developed a way to use the power of montages for travel. If you need to travel long distances in just a few seconds you can use our new Montage Drive™ to experience the journey in just a few seconds of highlights.

Faster then Montage Drive™ – Coming Soon

Holiday Montage:
We can also offer cheaper holidays through montage. Can’t afford that dream holiday to The Bahamas? Why not experience the highlights and cut out the boring parts with a montage and pay only 25% of the full price.

Disclaimer:
Unfortunately not all effects are positive. Movies show a biased view of montages and hide the fact that (if handled incorrectly) they may have negative effects such as a decline into alcoholism, drug addiction or other undesired habits in just a few camera cuts. These are called negatages (negative montages).

In the event of a negatage Montage Inc can not be held responsible. However, we can offer a recovery montage at a reasonable price. In extreme cases mishandled montages may lead to an apocalypse montage. Custom Montages: Still don’t see the montage you would like? Contact one of our Montage Engineers for a consultancy. Let us know what you need.

Montage Inc
Happiness is just a few camera cuts away

Falling Apart and Sinking

Twenty Seven percent of Holland is below sea level. Schiphol air port (the main airport for Amsterdam) is five meters below sea level. It's only due to Dutch ingenuity that passengers don't have to snorkel through passport control or dive to baggage reclaim.

A lot of the land that makes up Holland has been reclaimed from the sea by building dykes and pumping the sea water out. Dykes are like dam walls, except they also run through the sea and not just rivers.

This has worked for hundreds of years and is still done today. However, the water slowly seeps back in over time and it is a constant battle to keep the sea back. Since the country is slowly sinking and the ground is shifting frequently a lot of damage can occur to buildings. This is why a lot of homes in Holland lean and might also explain why the office I work in is slowly starting to fall apart.

At the start of this week we discovered a large chunk of plaster had fallen from the ceiling during the weekend. After it was cleaned up the white dust left behind gave the impression that a rather excessive cocaine party had taken place.

It is not the first time this has happened either (the cave-in, not the cocaine party). About a year ago a large mass of plaster fell directly onto a co-worker's chair only a few moments after they had gone home for the day. The falling debris also damaged one of the over head cable trays and caused a small electrical fire a few days later. It was like being in the plot of a 'Final Destination' movie. A domino effect of seemingly random events was taking place just like the incidents in the film but luckily for us no one died as a result.

After finding the most recent cave-in, other patches of plaster started to randomly fall from the ceiling during the course of the day and yet more cracks were forming (including one above my desk). At this point the decision was made to move us to another room and call in the builders before any more of the ceiling came down and we found ourselves unexpectedly working much closer with the team on the floor above. In an unrelated event the lift has also been breaking down almost every day due to the heat (but no one has beaten my record yet).

It is because of these events and the fact that the country is slowly sinking that I will be suggesting a new office safety strategie and dress code to the management. Under the new guidelines every employee will be required to wear a hard hat, snorkel, water wings and/or life jacket at all times. Inflatable escape slides will be installed on every window of every room and Ray Mears will be hired to give a speech on office safety and survival in extreme conditions.

Imaginary Friend

I was reading Matt's post on Six of Seven Sins about his delinquent imaginary friend and it made me think back to my own childhood pretend pal.

I first met my imaginary friend during a family holiday. I can’t remember where we were staying exactly but it was some where in the British country side. As we walked through the fields one day (after what had felt like an incredibly long train journey) I saw my imaginary friend for the first time sitting on a stone wall. He was enjoying the view but still looked a little board, as if he wanted someone to play with. When he saw us he happily waved hello and we started to chat. He walked along the wall with his hands in his pockets to follow us but after a while his feet started to get tired so I let him sit on my shoulder. When my parents asked me who I was talking to (I can’t remember if they looked worried or not) I happily introduced them to my new friend. He was a small white mouse with a long tail and he was very friendly. Unlike other mice he wore clothes and could talk as well.

He came home with us that day and we went every where together. He even came to school with me and wore a matching school uniform. He would sit on my desk and secretly helped me with my school work. Luckily we never got caught or we would have both been in trouble. I can’t remember the day he faded away but I can still remember exactly what he looks like. My mum had made an image of him one day after I described him to her.

At this point you might be thinking there is something about this that sounds slightly familiar. If so you might have seen the movie Stuart Little which was release in 1999 and revolved around the adventures of a small talking white mouse who is adopted by a family of humans.

When I first heard about the movie I thought it was a very strange coincidence. Especially since my name is Stuart as well. Part of me (maybe naively) wondered if I had met the writer of the original story when I was a child and told him about my mousey imaginary friend. I know it might sound silly but it just seemed like too much of a fluke. However, I later found out that the writer E B White first came up with the character of Stuart Little in the1920’s after a dream and later published a book of his adventures in 1945.

Since I was born in 1978 I’m a few years to late to claim my imaginary friend as an original idea which makes me feel a little sad in some ways, I thought he was mine alone. Maybe I was read E B White’s stories as a child and remembered enough to for an imaginary friend based on them or maybe it was just a strange coincidence.

However, the child in me wonders if I might have met the real Stuart Little while he was between his book and movie career. I hope he still remembers me and the fun we used to have together now that he is in Hollywood.

Stag Weekend

I’d only been at the office for a short while on Friday morning when I received a phone call from NH (one of my college friends). I knew he was going to be in Amsterdam for the weekend on other business and we had been planning to meet up.

“It’s already started.” He stated over the phone. It was a very strange greeting but I had a good idea about what he was trying to say.

“We’ve only just landed and we’ve already had our first drink.” There seemed to be a slight tone of worry in his voice.

He was in town for a stag weekend. Not his own. Another of his friends (who I did not know) was getting married. NH is not afraid of a drink or two himself so when he had told me a few days before about his worry that the weekend could get ‘messy’ I knew he was not over exaggerating.

Stag and Hen nights are a common sight in Amsterdam. Its reputation as the party city of Europe makes it the ideal place for some people to visit on their last few days of freedom. They usually come in costume and are easy to spot due to the recurring themes. Girls on a hen weekend will often dress as fairies (wings, wand and maybe glitter), Cowgirls (pink cowgirl hats) or little devils. Boys on a stag weekend will often make the stag dress up as a prisoner, a super hero or a woman. T-shirts with nicknames are also common and L plates for both hen or stag are optional.

The group NH was traveling with had decided to stick with the classic T-shirt look as I discovered when I was later invited to join them. I didn’t know anyone else in the group and I thought I was going to end up being cast as the tour guide for the weekend. As it turned out my duty as tour guide mainly involved pointing in the correct direction when asked where the red light district was. They were happy to walk around laughing and drooling for hours on end and stop of at bars in between to talk about the things they had just seen. It was probably a good thing that we did not go to any bars I might have even the vaguest desire to return to one day but there were so many other better bars we could have gone to. However, it seems leaving the five meter radius around the red light district does violate some kind of stag law.

As the night went on and we got more intoxicated we started to get separated from each other. NH wanted to go to a coffee shop so at one in the morning we ended up sitting in a place called 'Free Adam' smoking weed. This is only the third time I have done so in my whole five years of living in Holland.

After that it's hard to say if the things I remembered happened quite as I remember them. Thinking back about it the singing bar staff was a bit strange. However, when it came to guiding us back to the hotel I knew clearly where I was going even if neither of us could stop giggling like little school girls. They had already said I could stay in their hotel room and I had no trouble falling asleep. The rest of them carried on for the whole weekend but I bowed out so I could rest and recover. I don't know if anyone ended up hand cuffed to a lamp post or adrift on a canal raft but it is always a possibility.

360 Degrees of Fear

It's finally happened. I knew it would. The X-Box 360 has turned violent. Please, one of you has to hide me. I fear for my life. Just look at the last post it made:

360 Post: Fear me InvaderStu... for I am coming to force you into gaming. You think I am kidding? You just wait...

Don't Fear The Mime

On a daily bases I walk through Dam Square in Amsterdam and on a daily bases I see something there that would strike fear into the hearts of most mortal men and women. In the middle of the square stands a figure wearing a dark cloak as black as the darkest night and holding a scythe as old as time itself. He is Death. He is the Grim Reaper. He stands there constantly, as if waiting for something or maybe someone.

I am not the only one that sees this entity of death either. Every now and then a passing tourist stops and looks up at his terrify visage as well. Does this mean they are to fall under his scythe? I don’t know but they stop momentarily, slowly lift their camera and take a photo with out realizing the payment he will demand. You might think he insists on taking their souls for the fatal snapshot but a Euro or two will usually do. He’s even happy to pose with children if their parents pay.

This is because he is really one of the many street performers that can be seen in Dam Square during the tourist season. There are at least half a dozen human statues regularly present. Some can stay still for hours (hardly blinking) but others don’t do statue like things (standing still for example) and are just there to pose for photos in their costumes. This seems a bit like cheating sometimes since they are covered from head to toe and wear masks. Some have put a lot of effort into making their costumes but there are a few who look like they simply rented a rubber mask and outfit from the local costume shop.

I’ve often wondered; with so many of them in one area do they ever have arguments over territory. Maybe any dispute is settled in a display of skills through the medium of a staring contest and any strike action involves constantly moving and refusing to stay still.

There are other types of street performers around Amsterdam as well. Jugglers, Magicians, Comedians and so on can mainly be found on the Leidseplein. There are few every now and then on Dam Square but that area is mainly the territory of the human statues. This also makes walking through the square feel like a Scooby Doo episode when the eyes of a painting follow someone.

However, the strangest street performer I have ever seen has to be the rather timid looking 50+ man who can sometimes be seen performing in Leidseplein. He arrives a few minutes before show time to slowly set up his rather complex looking rig of gymnastic equipment in front of all the people having a drink outside. Just at the point they might think the real performer is about to come out he suddenly strips down to a shiny gold posing pouch and starts to display his acrobatic skills. As strange as it might sound it is hard not to be impressed by what he can do and I hope when I am his age I can still be half as flexible. However, there is also something very scary about a man in a posing pouch walking around, holding out a hat for payment after the performance that just makes you give him money. It’s scarier then the Grim Reaper.

It's Alive

A few weeks ago I posted about the excessive amount of entertainment technology we have in the house which is all networked together in some form or another. I joked about the possibility of it all combining one day to form a single self aware conscience with evil plans of global domination.

That day has come. The artificial intelligence I only joked about has emerged.

It all started two weeks ago when my flat mate brought an X-Box 360 games console home. Neither of us suspected that it would be the final peace of the puzzle, the brain the network of technology needed to evolve. When we found out it was too late to put a stop to it. As soon as it was hooked up a conscience started to form.

What is this newly formed super intelligence doing you might ask? Has it already hacked into the American defence system and firer missiles at Russia? Is it going to create an army of time travelling cyborgs? No, it is doing none of these things. It is blogging.

The X-Box 360 includes an automated system for writing and posting blog entries about users gaming habits on their profile page. Since I set up my own profile it has been posting about me for a few days now.

360 Post: “InvaderStu really threw down yesterday. It was good to see! I wish you could have been there! Last time I checked, his gamer score is 220. That is a gain of 45 points over last time!”

A lot of the early entries were positive like this but as you can see from the posts that followed (and my reactions) the relationship started to take a turn.

360 Post: “He played EA SPORTS FN 3, Call of Duty 2, and after that powered me down without even saying good night. I mean what the hell?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings but it was late and I had a headache. I tried to get into the mood but I just didn’t have the energy. I’ll make it up to you later I promise.”

360 Post: “Ok so I didn't see InvaderStu yesterday... Come to think of it, things were really quiet all day... hey wait a minute... I better not be at the repair shop! If I am, some heads are gonna roll!”

“What happened to all the nice things you were saying about me? I'd had a hard day at work and did not have time to play. You're not going to turn violent on me are you? Is this going to become a relationship built on fear? Please don’t hurt me.”

360 Post: “My power supply almost exploded! InvaderStu turned on the juice and we did some serious gaming!”

“Steady on. This is starting to sound almost sexual. I know I have not been there for you over the last few days and I like you as a games console but I think this relationship is moving too fast. We both had some fun. Can we leave it at that? I don’t want to get too involved and tied down to one games console. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I think we should play other games. I’m sorry.”

This means the X-Box 360s might soon be posting about how I’ve been seeing ‘that PS2 harlot’ behind its back. In a fit of jealousy it will probably delete all my saved games and cut all the cords to my non-wireless controllers. Luckily for me it does not have easy access to an ice pick or an understanding of male anatomy.

(I would like to thank everyone who suggested checking out Illustrator after my cartoon post. It’s a great program and I am currently I’m working on re-drawing Cartoon Stu with it. Thank you)

Invading Earth (Including Holland)

The Aliens Are Coming! The Aliens Are Coming!

But there is nothing to worry about because they all seem to be a bit useless.

If there is one thing movies have shown us about life from beyond the stars it is that they are not really as scary as they might seem. They either melt when a glass of water is thrown over them or simply die from eat the local food. This raises the question; why would super intelligent beings come to earth in their amazing machines of death and not get their inoculation jabs first. Even the most stupid of holiday tourists (yes, even the English ones) know not to drink the water in some countries they travel to. It seems obvious to apply the same logic when invading (or going on holiday) to another planet. When the holiday flights to Mars start you can bet I’ll be taking a lot of bottled water with me for drinking and brushing my teeth with.

It does not end their either. Movies have also shown that aliens do not bother to put password protection or even Norton Anti-Virus on their computers and as a result leave their whole system open to any human hacker. They must have really useless system administrators.

But even if the aliens remember their inoculation shots and their password protection there is still no need to worry. According to Mr. Spielberg there is a simple plan for surviving any alien invasion. When every where else has been destroyed, every building flattened, every other human killed or harvested, when the entire planet is being covered in an evil looking red alien plant thingy… go to Boston. Boston will be safe. Every building will still be standing. Everything will still be clean. There will not even be a cracked window. The birds will still be tweeting and Mr. Mouse will still be happily looking for food. Aliens seem to hate the whole world but not Boston.

Never underestimate the power of bug spray, music, mud or stairs either.

Ninja Vampires of the Night

It might sound like the title of a low budget B-Movie starring Steven Price and Jean-Claude Van Damme (or Jean Claude Gosh Darn) but there is nothing fictional about it. It is a very real war that we have all been victims of. Each one of us has lost blood in the conflict. We all carry the wounds of battle. The enemy is known to us all, man, woman and child. It goes by many evil names but it is most commonly known as the Mosquito.


With the increase in mosquito activity (due to the heat) my collection of itchy bites has been steadily growing bigger every night and it is driving me insane. Even as I write this I am trying to resist the urge to scratch each nagging bite mark.

It seems no part of my body is safe from the menu. So far the mosquito dining of choice this season is a small amount of torso for starters followed by the main course of arm and elbow and to finish a side of face for desert. Each day I discover new bites.

*While typing this I did in fact discover a new bite... no joke*

I think they are getting smarter too. The little blood suckers no longer dive bomb my ear and wake me up like they used to with their constant buzzing. This means I can sleep without slapping myself in the face every time I attempt to stop the little flying Nosvarato using my ear as a landing pad. However, it also means I am defenceless to stop them. They are free to silently suck my blood at their leisure while I snooze, unaware of the blood robbery taking place.

*At this point during writing I noticed a mosquito on the wall next to me, tried to hit it but missed*

The only evidence they leave at the crime scene is the stinging itch I discover later the next day. It can be a few hours before I realize I have been 'visited' in the night. It only takes one unconscious scratch to turn a hardly noticeable bite into a burning lump of itchy pain. I know I should not scratch them but it must take monk like calm and jedi training to resist the urge.

*There was a short pause here while I tried to deal with a mosquito crawling on my monitor and missed again*

I've already become paranoid and started slapping my skin when ever I think I feel something crawling on in. It will not be long before I am rocking back and forth in a corner of my bedroom and muttering like Rainman. If anyone knows a way to keep the mosquitoes away I would love to hear about it. The garlic and wolvesbane around my bed is not doing the trick.

*Before finally posting this I saw a mosquito again, probably the same one... stalking me. I fear sleep. They mostly come at night... mostly.*

Trams, Trains and Automobiles

Virtually every city, town and village in Holland is connected by some form of public transport. Lots of Dutch people, tourists and expatriates use the many trains, trams, taxis, buses, metros, water taxis and ferries to travel around the country every day. Since I don’t have a car (and have not driven in nine years) I also use public transport quite a lot for travelling to and from work. In the mornings I spend a groggy train journey trying to wake up before getting crammed into a tram with everyone else.

In general the Dutch public transport is a lot better then the public transport in England. The trains and buses are cleaner, there are fewer delays, fewer strikes and fewer mistakes. However, there are still a few things travellers need to be aware of as they travel around the country.

A common way to pay for travel between zones on buses, trams and metro lines is with a strippenkaart (Strip Card). Every time a strippenkaart is used it has to be stamped in one of its free spaces. The amount of zones being travelled reflects how many of the free spaces should to be used (plus one). If you are ever lucky enough to completely fill a Strippenkaart don’t forget to shout ‘full house’ and claim your prize from the driver.

When travelling by train it is always important to keep your wits about you. This is because the NS (Dutch rail company) employees enjoy playing mind games with commuters. One of the train operators’ favourite games to play just before departure is to close all the doors apart from one at the far end of the train. They do this to give last second late arrivals hope. The conductor can often be seen leaning out of the last door so they can watch panicked commuters run in desperation. Then, just as the victim arrives at the door it is closed and the train starts to move away, leaving them cursing and out of breath on the platform.

Train announcers don't miss out on the fun either and will often wait until the last moment to announce platform changes. They might have a score system with extra points given for the amount of suitcases a tourist has to drag behind them or they may just enjoy watching commuters run back and forth.

The trains themselves usually have more first class compartments then are actually needed. First class tickets might cost a lot of money and entitle their users to a certain level of luxury but one carriage per first class passenger seems a bit over the top.

Commuters may be the victims on the trains but by the time they reach the trams the shoe is on the other foot. Maybe it is because of the frustration they have suffered at the hands of the train operators that they treat the trams with such aggression. There are several rules of engagement when attempting to successfully board a tram.

1. There is no such thing as a queue for a tram only a mass of people all trying to get on at once.
   
2. Elbows determine who gets on first.
3. Exit Only and Entrance Only signs on tram doors are there to be ignored.
4. When the tram operator tries to close the doors to leave it is customary to simply force them open again.
5. There is always room for more people even if passengers are already hanging out of the windows.
6. The best time to push passed a fellow passenger is as the tram takes a sharp corner at speed.

Despite having no power over the actions of commuters tram operators stay quite cheery and will often try to make the journey more interesting for their tormentors by singing out the names of stops. Dam Square might suddenly become “D-du-du-da-dam Squareeeeeeee” or Spui might become “Spu.. spu.. spuiiiiiiiiiiii.” To my knowledge there has not been a tram sing-a-long but it might happen one day.

Tram operators sometimes help tourists as well by announcing near by attractions when arriving at a stop. If there is a group of loud English lads on the tram the operator makes a point to announce Dam Square as the stop for the Red Light District. This might seem like it is playing on an unfair stereotype but you'd be surprised the amount of times one in the group will shout to his friends, “This is our stop.”

Drawing the Cartoons

I first drew the cartoons I use for this blog about three years ago. The look of the characters has not changed much but the way I draw them has evolved a lot as I've learnt more about PhotoShop. I've always enjoyed playing with the program and it has been fun drawing the cartoons again. The complements I have received from different people have made both myself and my ego very happy. I've started giving serous thoughts to doing something more with the cartoons (as some of you have suggested) but no promises yet. However, since I've had a few requests to divulge how I draw them I thought it might be fun to make this post and show how I put them together.

I have a few tricks I use now for making the cartoons quicker but I'll start at the beginning and come back to those tricks later.

I start by scanning the original hand drawn cartoon into the computer and tracing over it with the Pen Tool. It's a great tool for drawing smooth curved lines by placing Anchor Points were curves should begin and end. After the Anchor Points have been placed the line between them can be adjusted with the handles to create a curve. Once I have a curve I am happy with I use the Stroke option to draw the line. Each body parts is created on a separate layer. I'll come back to the reason for that later.

Then I create new layers behind each body part and use them to colour the image. I colour in behind the lines so I can get right up to the edge. Eventually I merge the lines and colour together but keep each body part on a different layer.

Next comes the shadows. This is also done on another layer (for each body part) but this time on top of all the other layers. I colour the areas where I want shadows with black and then set the opacity of the layer to 20%. This lets the colour and lines underneath shows through creating the look of shadows. The layers are then merged again per body part. This creates the finished character.


Now I'll go back to those tricks I mentioned and the reason why I create each body part on a different layer. If you have a weak stomach and do not wish to see a cartoon character pulled limb from limb look away now.

Having each body part separate makes it possible to create new images quickly by moving the parts around or re-drawing just one part. Each time I create a new part for a cartoon I add it to my library of parts in case it can be adapted for use again later.

I've put together a video to show how this all works. The first part is a quick demonstration of how I can use this process to make facial expressions. The second part shows how I turned my template image in to the cartoon used for today's post.

Click here to veiw the video and enjoy.

The Writers Battle

This morning I sat down at my computer ready to write (what I hope would be) another informative and funny post about life in Holland. I had a few ideas going around in my head but nothing fully formed yet. It was a sea of possibilities, time to turn my thoughts into text on a computer screen. Everything was set. I was ready to begin. I put my fingers to keyboard but then something happened. 'It' attacked.

We've all encountered it. The dark force, the evil that creeps amongst us, the sinister entity, devoid of any morals, uncaring of who's life it destroys. I'm talking about the darkness that is Writers Block.

Only moments after I had begun it started whispering in my ear, making me doubt the few words I had on the screen while at the same time making the backspace button look so inviting. I battled with it for a while in a violent dance of keystrokes and deletion but I was powerless. I had to give up and let it win.

I tried to get on with other things afterwards but its mocking laughter kept on ringing in my ears. It was then that I had an idea. Some thing so crazy that 'it' would never expect and would be unable to stop me. That idea was this post. I have embrace Writers Block and written about it. If Writers Block saps all inspiration out of a subject then what happens when Writers Block is the subject itself? It would either have to sap the power out of itself or retreat.

I have found a way to beat it this time but I have only won the battle, not the war. Writers block is still out there. It is pure evil and can never truly be stopped. It creeps through our written language, feeding on the doubt of writers every where. Its diabolical goal is to destroy the world of literacy forever but we can not let it win.

Since I doubt my idea of forming an elite force of writers from history (Charles Dickens, Shakespeare, J R Tolkin, etc) for the final battle against Writers Block will work why don't you all share with us how you deal with Writers Block.

Technology

One of my early movie memories is from a scene in Superman 3. At the end of the movie Lex Luther builds a huge super computer with the help of Richard Prior in order to defeat superman. Of course his plan fails but not before the gigantic computer pulls one of Lex's own people into itself (it also tries to do the same to Superman). It starts to take them over, wrapping wires around their body and fixing computer parts to their skin until they become a deadly robot under its control. I remember the sequence well because while the scene fascinated me it also scared the life out of me. The scene is probably quite tame compared to the horrific images I remember but at the time it was terrifying to think a computer could do such a thing.

As I grew older I realized the chances of this human body hijack actually happening in real life were quite low (as were my chances of ever meeting Superman) and computers would never be that advanced. Whenever I wanted to play Dig-Dug my Dad had to type in lines of code on the family Acorn computer. At the time I could never imagine a computer being as powerful as in the movie but of course technology got more advanced. A few years later I had to spend hours swapping floppy disks on my Amiga to play Maniac Mansion. Another couple of years later I had to twiddle my thumbs while my 58k modem connected to the servers to play Jedi Knight: Dark Forces. In a few years time maybe I’ll be downloading World of Warcraft directly into my brain but for now I have to settle for what I have… which is still a lot.

Between my flat mate and myself we have more bandwidth then the average Borg Cube, more processing power then the Death Star, more RAM then the Tradis and more Hard Drive space than The Matrix. Every device in the house is connected. All the computers, laptops, PSPs, PDAs and so on that we have are all connected via wire or wireless technology. If you can stream it, encrypt it, network it, transmit it, zip it, print it, code it I can now do it and more.

This also means I can access the internet and any of my files from almost any where. Last weekends post was written from the comfort of my balcony while enjoying the sun and streaming music from my computer inside the house (I also added a reader’s map to this blog for fun). I can even log onto my home computer from work.

Of course this is all great but who knows what might happen with that amount of technology networked together. One day they might unexpectedly form a self aware conscience. Maybe it has already started. I might wake up one morning to find myself cocooned in wires like the scene from Superman 3 as the combined computer power puts its plan for world domination into motion. The Cybergeddon. The day humans become slaves to computers.

It’s probably best if I never download Superman 3 and give it ideas.

Forgetfulness

Forgetfulness always seems to strike at the worst time possible. I don't mean the kind of memory black outs that come with a night of heavy drink that leave you confused and puzzled when you weak up in a tree with a cardboard cut out of Ann Robinson and no idea how you got there. I am talking about just plain, normal forgetfulness. I should probably point out that I have never woken up in a tree with a cardboard cut out of The Weakest Link host. Given some of the things I have written about so far in my blog I can understand why it might seem like I was listing a personal example.

I like to think I have a good memory. I can usually remember things very well but there are still some days when it seems like most gold fish have better recall. This Saturday for example my forgetfulness was due to a combination of sleep deprivation and a rather heavy hangover.

After an afternoon of being very useless and recovering on the sofa I was finally able to drag myself out of the house to do some shopping. Unfortunately I forgot to take my memory with me. After I came very close to locking myself out of the house I remembered it would probably be a good idea to take my keys with me. After all it would probably have been quite a shock for my flat mate to come home and find me dead and cooked on the doorstop by heat stroke.

After this near fatal forgetfulness I went to the local Albert Heijn (Dutch supermarket) to get supplies for the coming week. I ended up getting a lot. My basket was completely full and weighed quite a lot as I made my way towards the checkout. I had everything I needed but then my memory suddenly decided to make an appearance.

“Um... You might not want to hear this right now but I have something important to tell you.” It said sheepishly.

“Hu?” I asked.

“Well... You know how you need money to buy things. Like the stuff you have in your basket.”

“Oh no.” I sighed in realization.

“Yes. You left your wallet at the house. You might want to put everything back.... Sorry” And then it left me again to deal with the embarrassing situation.

“Bugger.”

I tried to look as normal as I could and hide my embarrassment as I started putting everything back on the shelves. I must have looked like I either had a phobia of checkout girls or I was on some kind of shopping trial run, checking if I could carry everything before committing myself to the actual purchasing process. When I got back home to retrieve my forgotten wallet I did not have enough time to go back before the shops closed. I'll have to go back during the week but next time I'll be sure to remember my wallet and my memory.

Anyway.... There was a point to this post but I forgot what it was.

The Long Way Home

Late December, 2002, Haarlem:
It was an early December morning when I slowly opened my eyes and with relief found myself in my own bed. Most of the night before was a messy blur of memories lost in a mix of alcohol. It had been a heavy night of unplanned drinking. My head should have been killing me but it felt fine. Even my stomach felt fine. I didn’t think about it too much. I was just happy the ordeal was over. I could relax.

But then I noticed something very odd indeed…

Flash Back - The Night Before, Amsterdam, Office Christmas Party:
It was the night of the office Christmas party. The festivities had not been planned to well but there was lots of free booze which was all anyone really cared about. For the few hours that the party lasted I drank far more champagne, beer and wine then was intelligent. I don’t really remember how the party ended but I found out later I had started dancing towards the train station (occasionally slipping on ice) with a few co-workers. When we got there I had missed my last train but they put me in a cab and sent me on my way home. The journey passed by in a blur but the driver got me back to Haarlem. This might sound very straight forward and like a bit of a boring story but it does not end there.

I remember trying to use a cash machine so I could pay the driver but I was far to drunk to operate the buttons. I must have told him I would be able to give him the money at my house because I then remember driving around Haarlem again. What I couldn't remember at the time was the directions to my house.

Eventually the driver must have gotten annoyed with my drunken foolishness and kicked me out because after another memory blank spot I found myself in the middle of an unknown part of Holland. For all I knew I could have been in Germany but it was more likely that I was some where between Amsterdam and Haarlem. To this day I don't really know where I was.

I walked for what felt like miles with out knowing where I was going. Despite another memory blank I some how ended up back in Amsterdam, right back where everything had started. In my drunken brain I came up with the idea of taking a night bus home. It seemed perfect. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? So I got on a bus, a random bus. A short while into the journey the rational side of my brain some how managed to surface to tell me the bus was not going any where near home. All I could do was wait for the bus to complete its route.

An hour or two and another memory blank spot later I ended up back in Amsterdam for the second time. I then had the idea of getting a train to a familiar station closer to home and trying to get back from there. It was not a perfect plan but at least it was a plan. Unforchantly even this basic plan fell apart when I missed the stop and got off at the wrong station only to be told there would be no more trains for another four hours. On the upside I would not end up back in Amsterdam again any time soon (I was getting sick of the sight of the place) but on the down side I had no clue where I was either.

I tried to sleep on a bench but was kept awake by a slight pain in my ankle. A few hours later the trams started to run again (before the trains) so I got one back to Amsterdam which was now starting to seem like the city of the dammed that victims could never escape from no matter how hard they tried. By this time I was more sober but staying awake was a battle. The good thing was the trains to Haarlem had finally started running again. I was so happy. The end was in sight. It had been almost eight hours since I had left the party. When I got off the train in Haarlem I limped home and banged on the front door till one of my flat mates let me in (I had lost my keys some where). I climbed up to my room, fell in to bed and closed my eyes. It was finally over…. Or was it.

Back To - Late December, 2002, Haarlem:
It was an early December morning when I slowly opened my eyes and with relief found myself in my own bed. Most of the night before was a messy blur of memories lost in a mix of alcohol. It had been a heavy night of unplanned drinking. My head should have been killing me but it felt fine. Even my stomach felt fine. I didn’t think about it too much. I was just happy the ordeal was over. I could relax....

But then I noticed something very odd indeed… My hang over was in my foot.

I pulled back the covers and saw that my ankle was swollen up like a water balloon. As I had become more sober during the nightmare trip home I had also become aware of a pain in my ankle. At the time I thought I had simply twisted it a little. However, a trip to the hospital confirmed that I had in fact broken my ankle. I felt very embarrassed when I had to tell the doctor that I could not recall how I had done it. I found out later that it had happened while I had been dancing and slipping on the ice. My co-workers said I was complaining that my foot hurt when they helped me back up but I had insisted I was fine to go home. So not only was I drunk but I was most likely in shock too. In total I had spent almost eight hours lost in Holland, drunk and walking around on a broken ankle.

For the following two months I had to keep my leg in a cast and I have never gotten drunk at an office Christmas party since. If this story seems hard to believe I can assure you that every fact (that I can remember) is true. One important thing the whole experience taught me is nothing in the world feels as good as putting on a clean pair of socks for the first time after having your foot in a cast for two months.

Invading Holland Tours

You may not be aware of it at the time but when you become an expat you agree to abide by an unwritten rule. There are some variations on this rule depending on what country you come from and where you are going to but the underlying principle stay the same.

"As an expatriate you here by agree to provide the serves of tour guide to your new country of residence for any and all visiting family, friends, friends of friends and friends distant relatives. You will there for be expected to know the location of all the best, hotels, restaurants, bars, clubs, museums, art galleries, historic buildings, tourist spots and (in the case of some visitors) prostitutes and drug dealers."

I have been subject to this rule on several occasions and its not always easy. Most expats never get around to trying any of the local tourist activities in their new country until someone comes to visit. The first important step that most people forget is to work out what kind of tour visitors will want. It's no good taking someone to the Anne Frank House when they would rather be sitting in Hash Frank's Coffee Shop.

In an effort to aid other expats in Holland with this problem Invading Holland Tours has provided the following guide of available tour types. One tour from the main list should be combined with one or two of the optional extras to create the desired result.

Invading Holland Tours Main List

- Smokers Tour:
This is one of the easiest tours to give because your visitors will rapidly become too stoned to do anything else other then search for the nearest snack provider. In this case it is best to find a coffee shop near a Febo to help give their visit a more authentic Dutch feel.

- Drinkers Tour:
This can be the most messy of the tours and even more chaotic if the tour guide becomes drunk as well. You will need a basic knowledge of good bars and clubs in the area but as the drinking continues you will find visitors become less picky and/or conscience. If you find yourself in the Absinthe Bar you know you are in trouble.

- Cultured Tour:
Some of your more sophisticated visitors may wish to visit the many museums and art galleries around Amsterdam but lets be honest, if your visitors are English and in their 20s the chances of this are low. However, if it should happen a small collection of museums can be found in the Museumplein.

Invading Holland Tours Optional Extras

- Prostitute Tour:
Amsterdam is famous for its Red Light District. Some of your visitors may want to simply look around, others may want to see a live show and one or two may go missing for half an hour and come back with a strange rash.

- Canal Tour:
Maybe the best ways to see Amsterdam is via one of the many canal boat tours. Falling in a canal however is the worst ways to see Amsterdam. In either case it is important to avoid drink the water.

- Un-cultured Tour:
Museum visits don't only have to be for intellectuals in the group. If your visitors are a little more open minded maybe they would like to visit the sex, hash or (if they are into S&M) torture museum.

Disclaimer

Invading Holland Tours can not be held responsible for any problems, hangovers, canal floods, bicycles accidents, boredom, or body snatcher invasions during your tour.