I swear it doesn't feel like April, can we go back and repeat March again?

Ok, I've been called out (thanks Katie O'Brien). I have once again left this blog untouched for months. And seeing as this blog is Dutch-focused, and I have very little time left in The Netherlands, it's time to start writing more. I'll probably just change the title but keep the same blog once I move to the next place (Keep reading to find out where...)

Well, seeing where I left off on the last blog post, I guess I should start with my trip to Spain. What can I say, it was SO interesting. We as history majors spend years learning about facts and concepts from our professor's mouths and our books. Then, when you start getting into theory during the masters, it's more like "What the heck!? When am I going to use all this abstract stuff?"And then they send you out in the world, and now I get it. What we've been learning, trying to wrap our heads around in the classroom, it's quite incredible to see historical and sociological theories in practice with your own eyes. And yes, I realize that maybe all history majors don't get to experience this, but I am lucky that my study is rather contemporary, and my particular topic focuses on subjects from today. For instance, before I left I read some articles on immigrant organizations, and the motivations and characteristics of them. Then, when I got to Spain, I got to see the author's argument's proven, by interviewing Dutch expats who were active members of immigrant organizations, and were confirming the theories that had been argued in the classroom. Very cool. Okay, nerd moment over.

So for almost three weeks, I drove all over Spain for various interviews that I had arranged before arriving. I also found some Dutch bars and restaurants and just went in and started talking to people in there. Actually, the general theme of the trip was that I could not get away from The Dutch, and the Northern European immigrants in general. After having an interview in the morning, I would go to a small cafe that I had found so I could use the wifi before going to my next interview... only to find myself surrounded by tanned Dutchmen watching "Waar is de Mol?" and the owner of the cafe asking me if I wanted a kroket ... I really don't understand how there is no study done on the Dutch in the Costa del Sol.

A Dutch bar owner with a portie of Dutch bitterballen in Torremolinos

Oh, and this is Felipe. He was my trusty steed, and brought me all over the Costa del Sol. Okay, so there may have been some times that he was almost blown off the highway by a gust of wind. But hey, he was cheap, and I'm still here. Mission accomplished.

As a side note, yes I understand that thesis research in the south of Spain sounds like a vacation to some people. And while I do admit I was lucky, it really wasn't a vacation. Yes, there is a winter in Spain. There can be sun, but it will still be 50 degrees. And then there's the rain. My days consisted of waking up early, checking my scheduled interviews for the day, driving to the town the interviews were in (which was sometimes two hours away) extra early, preparing, conducting the interviews, and driving back to my large empty apartment to cook dinner for myself. I did this for almost three weeks. So no, it was not a vacation. My last few days in Cadiz were wonderful, only because of my family. The weather was pretty bad, so no beach for me unfortunately. But it was so wonderful to see my family again, and I spent almost the whole time eating Pepa's amazing cooking, and sitting on the couch with Alba watching TV. I needed a bit of downtime with family, so it was really nice.

Alba and I in our favorite tapas bar, Balandro. 

I got back March 5, about a month ago. Since then, I've just been working at the cafe, working on the Humanities Career Event, and working on my thesis. But of course I've been balancing that with some fun. I made some great new friends this semester, always good after being so sad that half my friends left last semester. So we'll take little adventures like St. Patrick's Day in Den Haag, or a bike trip to the beach at Noordwijk. It's starting to dawn on me that I only have two months left in Holland, and there's still so much I want to do. So while I know I have to buckle down on my thesis, I don't want to sacrifice springtime in Holland, and the wonderful things it brings with it, like the tulip park at Keukenhof, Queen's Day (which this year will be King's Day) and general springtime merriment in the small boats that go around the canals.

Now, for the future. As I have previously said, my master's program is one year long. After I turn in my thesis, I'm done. I technically have until September to write my thesis. But I'm sorry, I didn't think I needed eight months to write my thesis when I wrote my undergraduate thesis in two months, and they were the same length. I have to write about 30,000 words, which will probably end up being about 50 pages. Sounds bad, but it's doable. The hardest part of this all is it's all independently done, with very little input from the advisor. I have no other due dates, and he just trusts that you're doing well. Last semester I had fixed classes, so I had to go and had to keep on top of things. This semester, I have to be disciplined with myself because it is so unstructured. But I know if I give myself until September, it's just going to be too much time, and I'll leave it until the last minute. So I came up with a new plan.


My best friend from America, Hannah, has been wanting to visit me in Europe. So I told her, you buy your ticket somewhere at the end of March, and I will make the day before you come my due date. That way there is no way I can push it back. So that's what we've done. We've hatched an evil plan. She bought her ticket and is coming May 27. Before she comes, I will have to finish my thesis, get rid or store all my furniture, pack up all my stuff, and be ready to go! We'll spend a few days in Holland, and then with her Eurail pass and my InterRail pass, we're taking the train down to France. We're going to spend some time in Annecy, down to the Riviera to Cap d'Ail, through the Provence, down to Barcelona, to Granada, a few days in Morocco, to Cadiz, and then on to Portugal. That's where I'll be staying.

Lac d'Annecy, Annecy Lake, on the eastern border of France

Cap D'ail, southern France next to Monaco.

The Algarve, Portugal

Ta-da! I'm moving to Portugal! Slightly irresponsible? Maybe. When I tell people I'm moving to Portugal, one of the poorest countries in the EU to work, they usually look quite bewildered. Not that I feel the need to try and convince people that what I'm doing makes sense, but I'll try and explain my reasoning.

Let's work backwards. I would love LOVE to work at the International Organization of Migration (IOM) in Geneva. That is my goal. I realize that is quite specific, so I would be happy working at a similar international organization in Geneva. The IOM usually hires internally to fill their positions, so the best option for me would be to apply for an internship with the IOM. They are quite competitive, but open many doors. Unfortunately, because it is an internship, they pay you beans, barely anything. And we're talking about Geneva here, one of the most, if not the most, expensive cities in Europe. Once you get a permanent position in Geneva, it's not that bad because the salary in Geneva is proportionate to the cost of living and thus quite high. But unfortunately a intern's salary.... doesn't quite cut it.

My parents have always supported me in my dreams, and think my goal is wonderful. They have been extremely supportive of my masters in Holland, and while I do work, living and studying here would be impossible without their help. But there comes a point in which I have to set out in the world on my own. So although my parents want to support me achieve my dream, I put my foot down and said I wanted to make my own way. Which meant working full-time and just saving up money.

Ok, so I have a job here, I could just stay here and work full-time for a few months and save money and move. But most of you guys know me pretty well. I have ants in my pants. So instead, I'm moving to Portugal to work. I have a few friends that live there, so at least I'm not moving there without knowing a soul. My friend from Spain is also considering joining me and working. Furthermore, I will be moving to Albufeira, which is a town in the Algarve in which the majority of the tourists are either Dutch or British. Therefore, my unique language skills of Dutch, Spanish and English comes in handy. Because I have been playing with the idea of moving to Portugal since January, I've been slowly learning Portuguese, so hopefully I won't be completely lost when I get there.


Meanwhile, I am waiting for warm spring weather to arrive, but as you can tell by the blog title... it hasn't quite got here yet. Apparently this is the coldest spring since 1964. Just my luck. But the end is in sight for my cold and cough that has lasted for nine months... just have to hold out until May 27! Almost there!

I realize that many people may think I'm crazy. To be honest, I don't really care. That's the wonderful part of this all, this is my life, and I can live it however I want. And yes, I'm in early 20's, and I don't think I have much more time to make such spontaneous life decisions, so I'm going to take advantage of this opportunity now. And while I have to deal with all the disapproving looks from people, I know inside, they're secretly seething with jealousy. É isso! Adeus, I'm going to Portugal!! Hope you all come to visit!

More than halfway finished with my Masters!!

Hoi hoi! Back again, and feeling chatty.

So I thought I'd do a little update on my life. Let's see the month of December.... what did I do... ah yes, I was locked in my room like some dungeon troll writing endless essays. I sorely lacked human interaction, consumed a ridiculous amount of tea, and I'm pretty sure my pallor turned a strange color from the glare of the computer screen. So when my parents came to pick me up from the airport in DC for Christmas, they found a ghost-white, over-stressed, underweight, and overly-emotional basket case who burst into the tears they moment she saw them. Wow, rereading that sentence... kinda makes me seem like a highly unstable person. But as you can tell, I really needed a few days home with my family, to cargar las pilas.

Time went by too fast unfortunately. The first couple days I did absolutely nothing. It was delicious. Just hung out at home, fostered an unhealthy connection to my family's new dog, Pisco, and let myself be fed and fattened up by my mother's cooking.

 I saw my beautiful, wonderful friends again, as well as all my family. But unfortunately, twelve days later the time came to say goodbye again. It's always difficult to say goodbye at the airport, when there is no return ticket purchased. No date set for the next meeting. Of course I will always see them, they are my family. But I am in a very transient stage of life right now where I couldn't tell you where I'll be living in six months. So the farewell was hard.

So because of some miscalculation (my fault, of course: helpful tip to all you out there, look at the time of arrival on your plane ticket, not the time of departure) I ended up working a shift at the cafe three hours after I landed. I was fine in the beginning, running on adrenaline and free cappuccinos. And then I crashed, and poured karnemelk (a nasty Dutch milk that tastes like they purposefully let it go bad and sour) into someone's latte and the person almost vomited.

Anyway.... excitingly, this semester I have no classes! For the masters program we have to take three required courses and a thesis, and you can arrange them however you want. I took all three of my courses last semester (which now that I think about it, probably explains why I didn't see a human soul for a month), so this semester is just my scriptie, or my thesis.

So this is what I'm super excited about. As you may know, my study is called "Migration and Global Interdependence". When I first approached Professor Lucassen to be my thesis advisor, the idea I had in mind was to do something on Return Migration (migrants who emigrate to another country for a significant amount of time and then for whatever reason return to their home country). This meant that my thesis would have been very theoretical, because many historians have already written on this and formulated theories based on the phenomena. Which would consequentially mean I would spend my life in an archive here in Holland. Then Prof. Lucassen asked my about my language skills. No, I don't speak German, my French is laughable, but I do speak Spanish. Handy in America, considered a bar trick in Europe. "Well hey", he said, "why don't you do something with Spaniards. And you speak Dutch. So do something with Spain and Holland. You can either study Spaniards in Holland, or Dutch in Spain. Do you have family in Spain, do you mind going there?"

Uh, gee, let me think, do I mind going there? Umm... NO. So where do the Dutch gather? Benidorm.. okay yes, but kind of constricting in terms of geographical space. Where else? Oh yes, the Costa del Sol region. So poor, poor me, I will be writing my thesis on Dutch nationals who choose to emigrate to the Costa del Sol region of Spain. Many migration historians have called it "affluence migration", as in migration motivated by want not need, but I think that's too limiting. I'm still trying to find a term that I think better describes it, but for now I kind of like "lifestyle migration".

Because there is surprisingly little literature written on the Dutch in Spain (there's some on British and Germans) I don't have much primary literature to go off of. So I will be having to conduct interviews myself. My advisor recommends that I compile between 20 to 25 interviews. That's a lot considering some interviews can last up to 3 hours long. Because the people I want to talk to reside in Spain, I will be going to Malaga (the biggest city in the Costa del Sol) for three weeks in February to conduct my interviews. Rough life haha... but I will be very busy.

But of course, I couldn't go to Andalucia without passing by my favorite city. So yes, I admit it, I'm going to Cadiz for 5 days at the end of my trip to stay with Pepa and Alba.

SO. Until then (just three weeks left!) I am working a lot more, about 3-4 days a week. I'm also still organizing the humanities career event for the university, and also working as a mentor for the new students arriving. So I get to pick them all up at the station, take them to sign their housing contracts, and get all the important essentials done, like cell phones, bank, etc.

So once again, don't know how, I end up realllly busy again. I don't how I do it, but every time...

But I've found some time for fun in between. We've had a couple of really big snowstorms recently. Well actually what happens is it snows. And then it never goes above freezing, so it snows again on top of that, and etc. until we just have a thick layer of slippery compressed snow. I got a sled from my boss for Christmas (random, I know), so I called my friends, found the only hill in Leiden (ok, it's not a hill, it's an old fort with a 75 degree incline), and had a day of fun in the snow followed hot chocolate and whipped cream.

I also had to take some time out for my birthday! I turned 23 on January 26... and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. Sometimes I feel really old (especially when I talk to the 20-year-old Erasmus students) and then suddenly I feel really young when I realize I'm the youngest person in my entire History masters program. But regardless, I had to celebrate it right! So I went out to dinner with some friends, including some of the new arrivals. After that, we went to my friend's residence hall that has an awesome common room for parties. Here's where I got a little bit in trouble. So Oscar, my friend, told the caretaker the party would be for 15 people and we would go at 11. Well, what actually happened: Oscar got a little sidetracked (read: drunk) at a dinner party and didn't come to the residence hall until 10:15 when the party was already in full swing. And 15 people didn't show up, it was more like 35. News travels fast. So all of the sudden I get called outside to talk to a pissed off Greek caretaker. Well I put on my best angel face, and he loosened up and eventually came in and took a shot with us hehe. Ahh the magic of it being your birthday. I swear it can get you out of everything. We then took off at around 12:30 for the Next, one of the only clubs in Leiden, and danced our faces off until the wee hours of the morning. Overall a wonderful birthday. I felt so loved, and lucky to have such wonderful friends.

Maybe it was my birthday, or maybe the fact that my masters program is only a year long and I kind of need to decide what the next step is, but I've been thinking a lot about the future. I talked to my parents when I went home for Christmas, and have been talking to some connections I have here, and it looks like something exciting is in the works!! I'm going to leave you guys hanging until I have more figured out... but it's definitely a change of pace from the Dutch lifestyle.

Until the next check-in!

The Zwarte Piet Dilemma

Ok, I know this topic has been discussed to death in The Netherlands. But I though I'd put my two cents in as well, partly because I think I can offer a unique perspective of being Dutch yet growing up outside of The Netherlands. I know many of my American friends don't even know this tradition exists, and those that do are usually pretty uncomfortable with the idea. Don't expect me to come to a clear conclusion at the end, because I still struggle with my feelings on it every year.

Zwarte Piet: racism or not?

Let me give a little background first. While we do celebrate Christmas on December 25, that is not our main holiday night. Sinterklaas is on the 5th of December, and that is when all the children get their gifts. While some foreigners might consider him a copycat Santa Clause, he was actually one of the sources of inspiration for the western image of Santa Clause. As with many old traditions, the exact origins of Sinterklaas are uncertain, but Roman-Catholic and Pagan influences (such as similarities between Sinterklaas and the Germanic god Odin) have been identified.

Odin - the basis for Sinterklaas?

The most obvious basis for Sinterklaas is obviously Saint Nicholas, who is the patron saint of sailors, children, and Amsterdam. Sinterklaas is accompanied by Zwarte Piet, his helper who is traditionally black, wearing a renaissance-era pageboy outfit. The actors portraying Zwarte Piet are rarely ever black - the black face paint is seen as a necessary part of the costume.

According to legend, Sinterklaas comes to Holland from Spain on a steamboat in mid-November. He arrives in every Dutch city with his helpers, the Zwarte Pieten, who toss candy and treats to the children. On the night of December 5, all the children put their shoes on the hearth, and fill it with vegetables and hay for Sinterklaas' horse. During the night, Sinterklaas rides with his white horse over the rooftops of Holland, and Zwarte Piet goes down the chimney to deposit the gifts. The next morning, when the children wake up, Sinterklaas has filled their shoe with small presents.

I think I can offer an interesting perspective on this holiday. I was born in The Netherlands and spent my early life here. Like every other child, I adored Sinterklaas. I remember fondly making paper Zwarte Piet hats in school in the weeks leading up to December 5. When we moved to America, my family kept that tradition alive. Every winter, my sister and I would take our wooden shoe, and fill it with carrots and hay on December 5, and leave it in front of the fireplace in my basement. I remember always worrying that Sinterklaas would forget us because we didn't live in Holland anymore. But every year, without fail, we would wake up in the morning, and my shoe would be filled with little presents, and all the Dutch candy and cookies we only got once a year. And every year, I got a little homesick. Thankfully, I grew up right outside Washington, DC, so my sister and I were fortunate enough to be able to celebrate Sinterklaas with a sizable Dutch expat community. The Dutch embassy would have  a Sinterklaas and his Zwarte Pieten every year, and we would go and enjoy the traditional Sinterklaas music, food, and activities. And then Sinterklaas would open his big book, and all the children would gather around, and he would call everyone out one by one.

My little sister Saskia and I waiting to get scolded, and then receive our presents from Sinterklaas

I remember hating this part. I was so painfully shy, and every year, when he got to my name I turned crimson. "Kirsten van der Noordaa! I hear that you haven't been sharing your toys with your sister, and that you threw a soccer ball at her head. This is very naughty. If you continue to be naughty, Zwarte Piet here will put you in his sack and bring you back to Spain with us." Obviously when I got older, I realized that would never happen, and my parents had just told Sinterklaas of some fight we had earlier in the week. But when I was younger, I was still terrified it would happen. But he would always end it with a, "but your parents say you read a lot, and are a sweet girl, so here is your present" or something like that.

I think the last time we went to the embassy to celebrate I was about 9 or 10 years old. I remember that being the year I realized that Zwarte Piet was a sensitive subject for a lot of people. That was the year that the Dutch embassy bowed to pressure, and instead of having Zwarte Piet paint his face black, they had them all paint their faces rainbow colors.

Interesting choice how they painted themselves rainbow colors, yet kept the traditional depictions in the decorations.

 I cannot describe to you the outrage they faced from the Dutch community. One thing the Dutch cannot stand is messing with their culture. And so, Sinterklaas is still accompanied by his Zwarte Pieten to this day in Washington, DC.

But I remember realizing that year that something was a little off with the idea of Zwarte Piet. For me, and I think I can speak for many Dutchmen, growing up I didn't associate him with racism or even with black people at all. It was almost as if I considered Zwarte Piet to be a race on its own. But that's when it first occurred to me that the image of Zwarte Piet had a darker connotation for many people, and maybe this holiday wasn't as innocent as I'd imagined. 

Keep in mind, at this point I had been living in America for five years. I was already a big history buff, and had already learned a pretty good overview of American history. Obviously there are some major differences between Dutch and American history. The United States still experiences an uncomfortable relationship with its racist past. One of the mains reasons is that these events in American history didn't even happen too long ago. The Jim Crow laws, a collection of state and local laws that mandated separate but equal status for African Americans but really led to racism and inferior treatment, weren't overruled until 1965. Indeed, the name Jim Crow comes from a caricature song-and-dance act staged by a white man wearing blackface called "Jump Jim Crow" from 1832. Hundreds of pages could be written about the social, cultural, and political effects of the blackface trend in America. One of the main features of blackface was that it was intended to play up and ridicule what was then considered to be typical African American stereotypes. The black face paint was usually accompanied by over-exaggerated red lips, and a simple, happy-go-lucky demeanor. Obviously, this is extremely offensive. 

In The Netherlands, interaction with black populations is usually attributed to the colonial era of our history. At one time, The Netherlands was the most powerful empire in the world, and had colonies everywhere. The most famous one is of course the colony of New Amsterdam, which today is known as New York City. But other colonies include Indonesia, Suriname, Guyana, the Malaku Islands, South Africa, and the Dutch Antilles. The Netherlands is not proud of its imperial past, it isn't netjes to talk about. However, I don't think it carries nearly the same extent of taboo and cringe-worthiness (I just made that a word, get over it) as American's ownership of its racist past. 

So let me tackle the Zwarte Piet dilemma from two perspectives. For over a hundred years, Zwarte Piet has been a treasured part of the Dutch culture. Dutch children grow up loving Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet, and aren't dressing as him to mock him, but to celebrate him. We have lost so much of our Dutch culture over the years, but this particular holiday is sacred to us. It is like saying to children that Santa is not allowed to have his reindeer and elves. It is so deeply ingrained in our cultural identity, and it is never taught to children from a racist place. 

Now looking at it from the opposite perspective. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. You can swear up and down that you don't mean it like that. But what's important at the end of the day is how it's culturally perceived. For example, I have always had a problem with people flying the Confederate flag in America. Supporters say the flag stands for Southern pride. For me, and many others, it stands for racism. That's akin to a German claiming the Swastika stands for German pride, you can't just appropriate cultural meaning to a symbol because you have personally decided it means something else. Objects and symbols gain their definition and social meaning over a long period of time based on historical events and cultural perception, and I believe it would take a great force and a long period of time for that to be changed. I am not trying to compare the Swastika to Zwarte Piet, but merely trying to illustrate the pervasive power cultural recollection has. Blackface is a symbol of discrimination and racism in many countries around the world, and for many belongs in the past. Just because we say we don't mean it that way, does that make it ok? 

But I cannot deny the place that Zwarte Piet has in my heart. I grew up with such a fond image of him. He always seemed like the less scary one. While Sinterklaas was calling me out and scolding me, Zwarte Piet would be over his shoulder, winking at me and giving me candy. It makes me sad to think that one day, Dutch children may not be able to enjoy him as I have. Whenever I would explain to my American friends the holiday of Sinterklaas, I always felt very defensive when they attacked the image of Zwarte Piet. I wasn't taught it that way, and I certainly didn't see it that way. But then again, most children don't. What I think may be wrong is that as we grow up, we see the darker history behind it. Is it then our responsibility, as educated adults to teach our children that racism and mockery is wrong, regardless of the innocent intentions behind it? 

I know I didn't really come out fully on either side. This is probably due to the fact that I had an upbringing in two different countries, and so I can see it from both perspectives. If you guys are interested in learning more about the Zwarte Piet controversy, this movie gives a really great overview of the growing feelings of discomfort regarding him within Holland. 

If they're so Hungary, why didn't they eat Turkey?

.... I know, I know, corny joke. But I couldn't resist.

So as hard as it may be to believe for all my Facebook friends, this is my serious, studious year. Well, I'm not going to be taking pictures of my stack of books in the library and posting them on Facebook, so I don't think that's a very representative view of my life right now. But the past two years, I wasn't very challenged academically. My year in Spain taught me more about myself and about life and the world than I have learned in the past 10 years. But in terms of classroom teaching.... I wasn't enthralled. My final year for my Bachelor's in America was also kind of boring. While I'm glad I got all my required classes out of the way before I went to Spain, my final year consisted of classes such as Tennis and French 101. So while I complain all the time, and I'm sleep-deprived, I'm glad to finally be challenged.

Anyway, this tangent had a point. My blog during my time in Spain had a very trip-related organization concept. Every weekend, I would jet off somewhere, come back and write a post. Well, here if you pass too many classes, you fail. Or fall behind and can never hope to catch up. But I have SUCH a bad case of the travel bug... I literally forced myself to attend every single class the whole semester, even when I wasn't feeling good. Just to save up my days for when I wanted to travel. Yes, I'm a freak. I also like to stalk airline websites at night to find good flight deals. Double freak. But that's how I found tickets to Budapest roundtrip 69 euros. Booyah! And they don't have the euro, so everything would be cheaper there! Double booyah! One situation I'm not used to: when I studied in Spain I was with a lot of Americans who were trying to see as much of Europe as they could while they were there, because they didn't know the next time they would be there. Here... basically all my friends are European. They can go to these places whenever they want. So not too many were very motivated to skip class and give out money to go to ... Hungary. Which is why I'm so happy I had wonderful Bea!! Bea is my Brazilian friend who agreed to go with me, and I'm so glad she did :)

Getting up in the morning was rough, because it was the day after election day in America, and I had to attempted to stay up the night before to wait to see who won. I made it until 3... but I woke up to a barrage of texts at 6 am.. and I didn't even care, because I was so happy! So Bea and I met at the station, took the train to Eindhoven, and soon we were on our way to Budapest!

Now, I'm going to be honest. I didn't/don't know a lot about Hungary. Usually before I go to a place, I do some research. On the history, language, culture, climate, culture, etc. But I'm so busy here I didn't have time to do that. Which was actually pretty interesting because I had absolutely no context for what I was about to see. Our flight was scheduled to land around 3:30 in the afternoon. While I'm in the plane, I look out the window, and I am so confused. The sun is shining, I just saw it shine above the clouds before we descended. But then we descended... and there was a sunset. I thought, 'no, this couldn't be'. Explanations I came up with were: the light here is just red, we have to set the clocks forward here, or that I had discovered where Mordor was. But no, we landed and it soon became apparent. The sun sets here at 4. As in DARK at 4. Disorienting was putting it lightly.

Budapest's main station. Not kidding, this picture was taken at 4:30 in the afternoon. 

We got to our hostel around 5:30, pitch black. Bea and I are nearly fainting from hunger (helpful note: sandwiches at Eindhoven airport cost 7E... not kidding. Orange juice? 5E!) We soon realized we were not just in a hostel.. we were in a YOUTH hostel. Which is fine... I mean, we're youths, right? ...... no, we're not, we soon realized. We got there, and this young kid with a long scruffy beard and handlebar mustache (yes, I'll just let you picture that in your mind) jumps over the couch to check us in. "Hey guys, so where ya coming from? Really? Sweet. Me? I'm from Detroit. Yeah, just, like, traveling around, living in Budapest. So.. uh... can I have your passports? I'll keep them safe, I swear." Second question after getting our passports: "so you guys going out tonight? It's pub crawl tonight!" Ohh no.. we just got here and spent the whole day traveling, we're kind of exhausted... is there a good restaurant around here. He stared at us like we had four heads. Apparently exhaustion is not a good excuse. But we grandmas stayed strong! Bea and I got up at 8 AM the next morning, and it was apparent from the 6 snoring Australian girls around us that we were the only ones in the hostel who didn't go out last night. But Bea and I had plans!

I always think one of the best ways to learn more about a country is get out of the capital or the large cities, and go to the smaller ones. I wanted to go to a smaller Hungarian town, picturesque, see the sights, churches... we couldn't have picked a better one. After breakfast at the grocery store, we boarded a train that we were about 75% sure went to the right place. Either there or Slovakia. But as soon as we made our way out of Budapest, I was completely speechless. The hungarian countryside is so beautiful. You know, maybe it's the fact that I live in a country that is somewhat vertically challenged (it's the flattest country in the world), but these rolling hills with little chalets built up on the side were so charming it hurt.

After a weird transfer where everyone on the train got off on the side of the tracks and climbed into a bus (??? what was that???), and another hour of driving, we finally made it! Esztergom!!

I wish I could say we researched for hours. But we literally googled 'day trips from budapest' and then clicked on 'images'. And Esztergom looked beautiful. Well, it certainly didn't disappoint. Esztergom lies on the Danube, and borders Slovakia. Why it's important: it was the capital of Hungary from the 10th until the 13th century, and its basilica is the largest church in Hungary.

After somehow finding our way from the 'bus station' (dropping us off in front of dumpsters) to the old town (when in doubt, just keep walking), we finally saw what all the buzz was about. There was not a single tourist to be seen. Just Hungarians. Even the old man we met in front of the museum refused to believe we were not Hungarian, as I'm sure he was emphatically telling us in Hungarian, but we just smiled and nodded at him, pretending we understood. We wanted to go to the Basilica first, because that was what it was famous for. Well, holy crap. It was already an unbelievably glorious, balmy day, so I'm sure even Detroit (sorry mustache man) would have looked beautiful. But I can honestly say, the view of the Danube from the basilica was one of the top 10 most beautiful I have ever seen. And I've been some pretty cool places.

After taking a million picture, basking a little in the sun, and taking a visit around the basilica, we decided it was time to eat again. Esztergom actually has a destination restaurant, apparently so good people come from Budapest to eat there. It's called Primas Pince, and it's in the cellar under the Basilica. And yes, it lived up to the hype. DELICIOUS. 3 course meals for under 10 euros. I kid you not. It was all traditional Hungarian fare, but with a modern twist. My Danubian duck pate was so delicious, and encased in a flaky phyllo crust, and my chicken was perfectly cooked and mixed with some pumpkin gravy and ligonberries. And the hungarian wine!! Also delicious :)

 After stopping at the only tourist store in Esztergom to stock up on some handmade traditional Hungarian crafts, we decided it was getting late (it was flipping 3 o'clock, but this sun messes me up so much) and we decided to head back to the bus station since it was a 2 hour trip home. We were tired from all the walking/running to catch the bus, but by the time we got back to the hostel, they're first question: you going out tonight!? It's all-you-can-drink night at our sister hostel! a.)we're tired because we woke up at 8 and walked all day. b.) why would I go to Budapest to go out to a hostel?? We decided we would go to one of the city's famous tea houses instead. But before we left, I wanted to ask Detroit dude what he thought of Esztergom, since we loved it so much. "Where?" Dear lord. This guy LIVES in Hungary, and has never been outside of Budapest... but he can tell you the location of every good bar in Budapest. Priorities, people.....

So we were recommended a tea house called Sirius. Apparently it's notoriously hard to find. Well, I thought because we knew it was hard-to-find, we'd find it. Nope, we walked up and down that block, and couldn't find it. A tut-tut stopped with some tourists looking for the same thing. We asked people who lived on that block, they didn't know. As we were about to head back, I noticed this cellar door that kind of went down into the ground, but it looked like someone's house. I don't know what made me do it, but I kind of pushed, expecting it not to even open.. and tra-la! There it was! -__- that tea house is like platform 9 and 3/4 you literally just have to have enough balls to try to get to it. Well I was expecting a Moroccan tea house, because that's what I'm used to from Granada... Moroccan teterias con cachimba... well this was more Alice in Wonderland themed. It was ridiculous. Every time you thought you'd reached the last room, there was another little hole you had to climb through. We ordered tea from the overwhelmingly extensive tea menu, and while it was good, I'm not gonna lie, I miss my "Sueños de Alhambra" tea from Granada.

The next day we devoted to just seeing Budapest. As much as I cringe admitting this, we got tickets for the tourist hop on, hop off bus. Yes, yes, i know.. but it's honestly the best way to see the whole city.

It took us to Buda and Pest, and even up the mountain to the Castle District, without having to pay for the funicular. So we got our money's worth. We even used it later in the day to get us to the famous mineral baths! Fun, everyone should do it, but jeez those 4 seconds running from the locker room to the water was painful, I think it was around 3 degrees Celsius. That night, to the hostel's relief, we finally went out. They had planned a booze cruise down the Danuze... I mean Danube (I'm sorry, I think I'm really funny) with Champagne. I heard the views of Pest from the Danube at night were beautiful, so we wanted to go. Well, first we pregamed at their sister hostel (why is that fun?? Why do people go to Budapest to just drink at a hostel?) and then we finally went to the boat. It was fun, but too short :( Bea and I wanted to stay on the boat forever, just dancing, drinking champagne, and looking out the window.

But they dragged us off to a Hungarian disco. Nope, uh, uh. Not having it. I think we stayed a grand total of 10 min. I had two Serbian gangsters squeeze my butt, and a clingy Brazilian trailing me (not related to Bea), and in the bathroom, I passed two stalls where two girls that looked like prostitutes were puking their brains out on the floor. Sure enough, on our way out, we passed one of the hostel employees (What? Where are you guys going!? It's so early!) Peace out, sorry we're lame, but I prefer Leiden's nightlife. I don't have to worry about being sold into the sex trade.

Our last day, we decided to go caving. We heard it was one of the things you had to do before you left Budapest. Well, we probably should have done more research on it. I mean, I love to do physical things, I consider myself quite sporty, but holy hell!! That was one of the hardest things I've done in a while! And I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one. I should have known when they gave us the full-body mining suits and helmets.

But I am not kidding when I say some of the holes we were supposed to go through were smaller than a manhole cover.

And there's absolutely no light, no one ahead of you sometimes, so you just have to drop into darkness, completely trusting. I was an idiot, and wore these old Mexican men's boots that I bought at a thrift sore that are literally as smooth as a baby's bottom on the sole.. not a lick of traction. Guess how many times I fell? And the worst was? Bea told me afterwards she had an asthma attack in the cave. I couldn't believe she didn't tell me, I mean I heard her breathing hard but I had no idea she was having an asthma attack! But she explained to me that she didn't have her inhaler on her, and the worst thing to happen would be for her to get a panic attack on top of the asthma attack. So she meditated and focused on her breathing, and somehow overcame it. Dear God, that is terrifying though. I'm glad she didn't tell me, we were about 40 minutes under the surface, I would have had the panic attack, and there would be no saving her. So all-in-all? Am I glad I did it? Hell yeah! I went caving under the hills of Buda! Without a rope and all that fancy American safety equipment! Crossing that off my bucket list! Would I do it again? Hell no.

We rewarded our physically demanding day with a nice big bowl of Goulash! Yum, hearty, warm, and filling.

Yum!

When we got back to the hostel, we found mustache dude so we could check out because we were leaving early the next morning (What!? You guys aren't going out tonight? Lame...) and he told us how much we owed. It's always scary hearing money amounts in Hungary because you buy a shot class and say "1,200 please" and you freak out. But you get used to the forints after a while. Downside, you become a little careless about how much you're giving out because you can't do the conversions so fast in your head. So Bea was the first one that caught on, because she said the amount sounded a little fishy. We went back and got the confirmation email, and sure enough, he was charging us 4000 forints more! You know what his excuse was? We were 'upgraded' to the female room after we complained. Are you serious?? Do you know what happened the first day? He took us to a room... and it was FREEZING. I mean, I think I could see my breath. When we asked if he could turn the heater on, he finally admitted the heat in that room was broken. SERIOUSLY!? You expect people to stay in a room in Budapest in November with no heat?? Even prisoners have heat! So an upgrade? To a room with the same number of beds? Give me a break.... ok, rant over. In the end we got a 'discount'. .... dumbass.

In conclusion, Hungary is awesome. Everyone should go. Beautiful views, good beer, good wine, good food... learn how to play charades because no one speaks English. Oh, and venture outside the city! My favorite day of the whole trip was our day in Esztergom.

Now I'm Hungary for more! Ok, ok... I'm done now.

And so Oktober flies by...

How to describe my life here?

I work too hard, and play too hard. That's about it in a nutshell.

Once again, I'm horrible at maintaining this thing. But this time it's because I've been so ridiculously busy here!! At least academically, I'm hitting my stride. I'm still super duper crazy busy, but I've figured out a schedule. Monday I have no classes (although my boss doesn't know that, shhhh) so Friday, Saturday, Sunday (when I'm not working and not going out at night :P ) I read my books like crazy. Monday is completely depressing, with me essentially waking up and not tearing my eyes from my books for 12 hours straight. And I somehow manage to finish it all by Tuesday/Wednesday. I'm not saying it's easy, because I'm starting to remember what sleep-deprived Kiki looks like (trust me, it ain't pretty) but I've always been pretty good at keeping my cool under pressure.

On Wednesdays I have soccer/football/voetbal/futbol practice .... goddamit can't we just pick one word!? I get laughed at whenever I say any of those words, it's never right! And Sundays we have our games, although I have yet to go to one because I ALWAYS work!! Update: I went to my first game last weekend! And we won 3-1. And then we had another game this past Sunday.... let's not talk about the score. I'm usually the goalkeeper but we had a lot of people with injuries so they put them in the goal and me on the field. But hey, at least  I did manage to score the only goal of the game!

My social life. Holy crap. Well, I'm certainly having a good time here. I'm very lucky that I have a very good group of friends here, with a couple of other really good friends interspersed throughout the whole program. Wednesday night is International night at Einstein's, a bar around here, which is always fun because you're guaranteed to know at least 30% of the bar the moment you walk in. And then weekends vary, but let's just say we work hard, we play hard, and I like to blow off some steam.

On 3 Oktober

Halloween @ Einstein's... I went as a beaten soccer player, with my Cadiz jersey of course

In other news: my parents came to visit!! They came the day after Oktober 3 (why, oh why did I not realize that before?? They saw Leiden at its worst). But thank God the pain was short-lived. My parents arrived in the morning, I literally left early from class and biked straight home, said hello to my father, grabbed my mother, and caught the train to Antwerp with her.

Her 50th (she's gonna kill me for saying that on here, but it's ok because she doesn't look 50 at all) birthday was in July, and I missed it because I moved to Leiden in June. I felt so bad, because 50th really is a big birthday, that on the day of her birthday I told her her present was a trip for just the two of us somewhere when she came and visited. So Antwerp, Belgium it was! And some of you may not know this about me, but I have a strange travel guide hobby. I absolutely love planning trips for people. So I went to town, and I found the most beautiful little hotel that only has 3 rooms. The theme was fairy tales, and the decoration was just incredible.

 I mean, the shower had a glass wall, and behind it were gnomes and a mural of snow white and the scary old lady. Of course I found the back door into the shower and played around. (We just came from the spa, that's why I was wearing a bikini).

Above the sunken tub was a painted moon... I mean it was amazing.

Because I planned our 2 days there out to a T... my poor mother had absolutely no input and no idea what was going on. But I think she liked the surprise because we literally dropped our bags off at the hotel and I took her to.... a spa! But not just any spa (I sound like an infomercial) but this beautiful one in the suburbs of Antwerp where you literally rent out the whole facility for yourselves for two hours. So we had free reign of the two-level spa: swimming pool, hot tub, sauna, hammam, infra-red lights (no idea what they did but it felt good) and a bar with drinks. So awesome.

And it was so nice to catch up with my mom, a lot to talk about after not seeing her for 4 months.

The next part of her special weekend was dinner at a place I found called Bourla!
Delicious Belgian food... mmmm

When we got back I literally had one day with both of my parents in Leiden, and then they went off to Italy for my dad's work. They were gone that whole week while I killed myself trying to get reading done in time in anticipation that I wanted to spend a lot of time with them when they got here.

Welp, it didn't help! I was so glad to see them again, but being with them meant I went to class in the morning, then straight to meet them, then spend the whole day with them, have dinner with them, get home and not start my work until 10:30. I am not joking when I say I didn't get more than 4 hours of sleep a single night that week. But it was worth it. I missed them so much, and I'm glad they got to see how happy I am here in Leiden.

It was also very interesting for my father, because he pretty much hasn't been back to Leiden since he studied here 40 years ago. He couldn't get over how much it changed! He said it used to be full of weird knitting stores and everything was old and falling over, and just a town that time forgot. Well, he came back to a bustling student city that's full of bars and restaurants and people.

But now they're gone :( and it's back to reality. So working, starting to write my HUGE final papers due in December, and playing soccer. Oh, and tomorrow I go to Budapest with my friend Bea! I'll have to write about it when I get back... hopefully not in January.

Tot ziens!

More random observations....

And now it's time for a second installment of.... "Kirsten's-thoughts-are-too-jumbled-to-organize-so-I'm-just-gonna-throw-them-on-the-page-rather-haphazardly"! And here we go...

1.) The best-selling book of all time is the Bible. Well, if you divided those statistics up by country, I am 100% sure The Netherlands' best-selling book wouldn't be the bible, it would be the agenda. Ok, fine, that's not technically a book, but you know what I mean. I will literally lick the street if you can find me one Dutch(wo)man who does not own an agenda. And I've been drinking the Kool-Aid here so yes, I have an agenda, so sue me. And you know what? That thing is awesome! I don't know how I lived without it!

2.) Traditional Dutch music, I'm talking about contemporary music sung in Dutch, that isn't necessarily listened to by the majority of the Dutch (they usually just listen to Top 40, Trance, etc.)  is absolutely hilarious/awesome. Enjoy!

Monique Smit - "Blijf je vanavond"

Marco Borsato - "Ik Leef Niet Meer Voor Jou"

And you know what? Try as I might to hate them, I find myself humming them at random times of the day. Dammit! Side note: I feel like Dutch might just be one of those languages you shouldn't sing in. 

3.) I ate herring! I'm not gonna lie, I was terrified. In Holland, a very common snack that you can buy on the street is raw herring. They clean it for you (there are still little spines), and serve it with onions on top. There is a very specific way to eat herring, as I demonstrate in the video. Oh, and I actually like it! It kind of tastes like a saltier sushi! PS- sorry the video is in Spanish/Dutch, I was making it for my friends in Spain who don't speak English (well, Kevin does). But last year I went with Alba to Holland and she was literally gagging when we went by the haring stalls. So of course I record a video for her of me eating it :P 

4.) Rodolfo was stolen :(((((( Rodolfo, if some of you don't know, was my trusty bicycle. Well, this past Saturday, I parked him next to... well next to The Next (a club here), yes... I might have been there a little late. But when I came out to get him afterwards, he was gone! Some drunk idiot took him :( he was locked and everything, but I guess they know how to pick that. RIP Rodolfo, you were good to me. 

5.) I saw the most amazing, incredibly unbelievable rainbow today. If you haven't read my previous blog posts, I am absolutely obsessed with rainbows, and they happen all the time here in Holland. But this one was really spectacular. Look at it framing my little house (the pointy brick one to the left)! If you haven't realized the extent of my fascination >>>> see my Facebook. 

Ok nu is het 1 uur 's nachts en ik ben nog wakker. Morgen heb ik 9 uur college, dus ik denk dat 't een goede idee is om naar bed te gaan. Welten rusten!  

And so it begins...

The time has finally come! After a nice, long, relaxing summer and some wonderful trips, it's finally back to the grind.

Disclamer: So with Blogger, you can check out the stats to your blog site, and see what geographical areas they come from. What I find hilarious is that I made this blog for all my family and friends at home in America, so I didn't keep having to write emails to them to tell them how it's going. But where do 60% of my views come from? The Netherlands. Pfff I find this hilarious. But now I gotta watch myself, now I can't start saying things about people that live here! (PS- also shows me specific countries regardless of number of views, so yes you, you who are the only person I know that comes from that country... thank you for reading haha)

I guess I'll start back a couple weeks ago, when we had our international student introduction days. The university organized a two-day (three days for Masters students) agenda of events for us to get to know each other. Unfortunately, the Dutch weather did manage to spoil some of the events, but I still met plenty of very interesting people. Actually fascinating. I can't stop being impressed with the people I meet here. I'm still in a funny situation, because I am an international student, I consider myself an international student, but the school doesn't see me that way. And I don't know about the Dutch students either. Every time I have to register somewhere and they need my name, I say "van der Noordaa". They just stop and look at me. So I already have worked out a whole speech. The moment I get that look, it all comes out in one breath. "*takes deep breath* myfatherisfromhollandmymotherisperuvianiwasborninhollandbutimovedtoamericawheniwasfiveiwasraisedmywholelifeinamericaiswear". Then they usually look at me like I'm crazy.

In my situation, I came here because I'm familiar with the country and language, it's a good program, and it's way cheaper than it would be in the States. But these people I'm studying with have come here from all over the world, (Brazil, Czech Republic, Indonesia, Argentina, Colombia, Italy, Canada, Greece) to name a few, attracted by the fact that Leiden has one of the best law programs in Europe, and The Hague is one of the most important centers for European politics. And here I am... studying History. I'm not downplaying my study, because it is challenging and important. But I meet these people, and I can already tell they're going to do something great with their lives. No matter where they come from, they all speak excellent English. They're smart, adventurous, work hard, have no qualms about leaving the country to pursue their goals, it's intimidating! I feel like I need to get a life plan, ASAP! Some of the people that I met those first days of Introduction week are now my good friends. When we want to visit Amsterdam, or blow off a little steam at Einstein's on International Night, there's no one better to ask!

Here I am with Eva from Czech Republic and Stefano from Italy in Amsterdam

Let me interject here with a funny little anecdote. One of the events of the Introduction week was a speech and drinks with the mayor of Leiden in the Hooglandse Kerk. The seats were extremely uncomfortable, the mayor was a little late, but ok, it was pretty nice. Then we had a little break to walk around, go to the bathroom etc. Well earlier on, they had pointed to the grave of Pieter van der Werf. He was the famous mayor of Leiden that in 1574 during the Siege of Leiden by the Spanish, bravely offered up his arm to the starving people of Leiden (gross, I know). Well, he's one of Leiden's most beloved heroes. But during the break, I began to walk around and look at the graves in the ground of the church. Directly next to the mayor was another grave. I was standing in front of it, trying to read it upside down. "van...der...nooRDAA!?" what the hell!? It was the first day of introduction days, and nobody I knew was around me. But inside I was freaking out! I wanted to scream it out loud! Who is Seymen van der Noordaa? Wow, 1750, that's a long time ago! And was he so important that he was buried next to the illustrious van der Werf!? I swear I could feel my family ring on my finger buzzing being so close to my ancestors, it was a very serendipitous moment. My father had always told me he thought there were some ancestors of ours buried in Pieterskerk, which is another church nearby. I have yet to go there, but hey! Found some other ones, Papi! And of course I ran into him accidentally during International student day. Now how the hell am I supposed to convince people I'm international!? 

After the introduction week, the law students (which is about 70% of the International students, Leiden's law program is famous) had to start immediately. Ha ha! I still had a week! So I worked, and chilled, and prepared for the gathering storm.

Oh, quick explanation of my job since I never really talked about it. I decided in the summer I wanted to work to get some money coming in, if I want to travel, I know I gotta work for it! Everyone was telling me it was going to be hard, especially with the crisis. I must just be extremely lucky, the third place I walked into hired me! I work at Cafe Midi, which is a cafe right outside the Volkenkunde museum, which is the national museum of ethnology. Score! Museums... right up my ally! They hired me to work in the cafe all summer, and then when the restaurant inside the museum opens up (in approx. 2 days) I'll work there. Awesome people, awesome food, awesome pay... what more can I say? And all you creepy Dutch readers... come visit me!

First week of classes! So after the whole mess of registration, etc. (it makes me tired to even think about writing about it, so I'm not going to), I signed up for 3 classes. I thought (as I'm sure many of the readers are thinking) oh god, three classes, what am I gonna do with so much free time? Why won't Leiden let me sign up for more? HA. WRONG. My first class was Tuesday, Myths about Crime. It was one of the few classes I could take this semester that fulfill my research seminar requirement for my migration studies degree. I walked in not knowing what to expect, and walked out with about 6 articles each about 30 pages, and two mini-essays.

Okay... next class. Maritime History. Yes, I know... sounds riveting. Actually it's pretty cool. But I walk in, and there's seven students. Okay, well this will be a nice small class. Then the teacher starts talking in Dutch. All humanities masters programs here are required to be taught in English unless there are no international students present. So I raised my hand, and somewhat ashamedly told them I was international. She looks down at her roster, and looks up at me and gives me the look. So then my whole jumbled explanation came out... but for some reason I'm an idiot, and I was flustered, and I said it in Dutch. Well, she then complimented me on my Dutch, and said "I'm sure you don't mind if teach in Dutch." Ooookay then. But she's super sweet, and we came to the agreement that as long as I could write all my essays in English, and read all my books in English, and ask her anything I didn't understand, she could teach in Dutch. And surprisingly, I actually have no problem understanding the class at all! And I hope it will improve my Dutch, I'll certainly learn all the Dutch seafaring words.

Admiral Tromp: Beloved Dutch naval hero, and Mr. Holland 1625

Then was my thesis seminar, in which she said okay, we're meeting once more in September, and then we're not gonna meet until November. Okay then? But it makes sense, this seminar is just a  forum to aid in the writing and development of ideas for our thesis, but me and most people in the class don't have a thesis yet, because we just got here. Finally was my Migration and Integration class. Finally, a class focused exclusively on my study! The professor, Prof. Luccassen, was the professor I met with in January. I can already tell this is going to be one of my favorite classes. Regardless, I finished my first week of classes with an obscene amount of work. They really hit the ground running here, huh?

I like to keep a nice, balanced schedule. So in addition to work and school, I wanted to do something active as well. If you know me, you probably know I'm hyper competitive and always need to be doing something or some sport. Well I wanted to join a sports team here, so during the international week I was looking at some sports. But I was shy, and I wrote down some dates and then didn't show. But one day I was chilling with my group of Dutch guy friends on the street (yes, I know, weird but it was no-car Sunday or something like that, so we thought let's drink beer), and my bionic ears perked up at the word "voetbal".... or as we yanks call it: soccer. "What? Huh? Who's playing voetbal? Do you need a keeper? Can girls play?" Well it turns out he was the unofficial coach of a girls team in Leiden, and before you know it, you're looking at their new keeper. Sweet! You have no idea how good it feels to be back on the field.

Showing off my new cleats to my dad

Then another thing falls on my lap. I swear, this stuff just keeps happening too easily, it makes me nervous. One of my roommates friends works within the humanities department, and was asking my roommate Juud if she knew any enthusiastic, active people in the humanities department. Well, I guess I'm overly social and can't keep my mouth shut, so I would qualify. Well, you're looking at the new membership promoter for Leiden University Humanities Department Career fair. One of six, baby. Only international student ("I'minternationalIswear!"), and the University pays me! Oh, and I get to network with companies. Awesome!

So as you can see, I've got a full plate this semester. Lekker bezig! :)