Student weblog - Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam

That's it!

Unfortunately this will be my last entry for this blog, since I could not realize what I expected of myself as far as the frequency of posts is concerned. When I started I planned on posting an entry every two to three weeks, but that was just impossible ‘cause I had a lot of other stuff going on which too often kept my mind reluctant of gathering thoughts, putting them in words, and typing them into a word document. So I think somebody else should have an opportunity to write a blog for the Free University Amsterdam and fill my spot.

So what has been going on in Amsterdam for the last 3-4 months? Well after I quit my job in the customer support department of TomTom (navigation systems) at the beginning of September, on account of a weekly 16-20h work requirement, which just didn’t allow me to cope with my studies, I took a month off working and joined a marketing research firm in the beginning of October. Basically, I am now one of those annoying people that call households in the evening and would like to ask only a couple of questions, which when they agree and belong to our target group ends up being a 20-40 minute interview : ) …the job itself is a b**ch but I have really nice colleagues who make the working hours a little more pleasant.

Other than that my studies are going so-so, same ol’ I guess...couple of re-sits... I won’t bore you with any of that.

Since the beginning of September I also started dating my first love again, who I am very passionate about and I am grateful to have back. It has been an on and off situation for the past couple of years and it hasn’t always been easy, which I suppose was my fault, and mine only! It probably also had to do with my move to Amsterdam and the time I needed to acclimatize to the new situation, but now everything is fine and we enjoy our reunion and relationship almost as much as we did during our first couple of months way back in ’05, being on cloud nine.                                                                                                                                                                           …oh and by the way, “she” is the game of competitive basketball! So right now I’m playing for my university’s first men’s team in a regional league of Noord-Holland. The competition is all right and we are currently ranked 1^st in our league (*no biggy*), which is likely to change if our toughest rivals take care of business as they have not played as many games as we have. I hope we can make a run to the championship but in order to do that we have to put a lot of work into practices. I hereby would like to give a shout out to our Italian point guard Luca who was an exchange student and played a major role on our team and unfortunately (for us) now is back in Milan, as his exchange semester terminated in December.

Besides I moved to a new palace and am now living in student housing facility about a 6 minute bike ride from the city center, which is pretty sweet! Admittedly the  room itself has not improved at all but it is the location that makes the difference…and of course the view.

Over Christmas break, I really enjoyed seeing all my friends and family, despite the annoying fact that I perceivably spent more time on the railway going back and forth, since my mom moved away from my hometown.

The New Year’s resolution I spoke about in my first entry was one I unfortunately could not fulfill. Although I try to speak Dutch a times my skills are far from where I would have liked them to be by now, so I failed on that part. However, despite the exchange semester I pursue, probably starting in September, I will have a minimum total of 12 months I will be living in the Netherlands…so we’ll see.As far as this year is concerned I don’t really have any. I won’t be looking too intensely into the future and let passion, love, and responsibility guide my life, being aware of the many ups and downs ahead of me.

I would like to thank all my followers for taking the time to read my blog and for the positive feedback I have received!!

Finally, I would like to leave you with some words of wisdom: 

"Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and richness to life that nothing else can bring."  - Oscar Wilde

God bless*,

Yannic

So Long, Ghana! (Diarrhea pt.2)

Hi there,

first and foremost HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I have to sincerely apologize to those (and only those) who checked in on my blog in the last 3-4 months for not being exposed to any new entries! I certainly do not want to make up any lame excuses; I definitely had the time despite the studying and working hassle I was caught up in, but – let me put it this way- I did not have the mind to do so.

 

Now, let me gather my notes, reminisce about my trip to Ghana and finish my diary.

Please note that I will skip day 5 & 8 since my notes only reveal that I’ve just been chillin’ like a villain on Labadi beach and watched a couple of How I met Your Mother episodes (-great show by the way, but it gets old fairly quickly which is exactly why I quit watching it half way through the 3^rd season…anyway…).

Kwaku - Day 6, 07/21/2009

My cousin Abeiku (I hope the spelling is right) and I drove up 1 ½ hours north from Accra to Aburi  to visit a friend of mine, moreover a class mate back in high school , in other words my dancing partner at our high school graduation dance. She coincidentally went to Ghana over summer as well to visit her boyfriend, so it was a no-brainer we would make an effort to meet up. My father was a little bit hesitant to hand me over the keys to his white little off-road vehicle; accordingly he was surprised about the intact delivery at the end of the day. On our way out of town Abeiku and I lost our way a little bit, it would’ve been nice to have a TomTom navigation device at that moment, except the only African country TomTom provides maps for is South Africa. Anyway, we picked up a University of Ghana student who was waiting for a “bus” (rather one of those vans, named tro-tros(?)) who led us out of confusion, and gave him a ride home. Compared to the streets of Accra, with incredibly many potholes, the high was in very good shape, similar to central European ones. It was definitely nice to observe that the government invests in infrastructure. My grandfather by the way fell victim to a pothole on a highway and had a lethal motorcycle accident, long before I was born…but that’s a different story.  

Aburi, compared to Accra, is a small town in the hills and there is nothing spectacular to report about to be honest, but it was pretty cool to meet a friend on the other side of the world - sort of.  Besides having dinner all four of us went for a walk in a botanic garden with a great deal of exotic flora. Afterwards, we dropped the-very cute- couple off and headed back home.  On our way we made a quick stop at Rita Marley’s mansion and were granted permission to snap a couple of pictures by an old Rastafarian who sat in front of the porch. (Back story: Rita was one of the many of Bob Marley’s wives. She traced back her roots to Ghana and settled there.)

Abeiku and I had a pretty good time and got to know each other a little bit better. I have a lot more relatives in Ghana most of which I have never met, and maybe never will, but if memory serves I remember having met three other cousins during my first trip to Ghana, back when I was thirteen. Amongst other things I clearly remember we talked about how the first names (alternatively middle names) of Akan boys and girls come about. Akan is the umbrella term for the Fanti and Ashanti tribes which have their origin in the south & south-east of Ghana I suppose. My father never mentioned to us why his middle name was Ekow, we knew he was a Fanti though, but not until I moved to Amsterdam in late August of 2008 during a conversation with my Ghanaian landlord (also Ekow) I became aware of a certain name giving system the Akan have. For some reason my awareness did not evolve into further curiosity though, but during the conversation with my cousin I all of a sudden wanted to know more about it, after all I’m partially of Ghanaian descent. To get to the point, the first or middle boys and girls get when are born depends on the day of the week of their birth. Many variations have developed over hundreds of years, so I guess it may not be that clear immediately, but when a little boy is named Ekow, such as my father, he certainly is born on a Thursday. “Kofi” Annan therefore must have been born on a Friday, whoever was named Kwámè and so forth. When I returned home I was able to find out the day of the week I was born on my cell phone. Kwakú would have been my name, the one chosen for boys born on Wednesday.

(For more info on that, check http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akan_names)

Later that night my dad and I went to a nice beach party with a live reggae and a diverse audience from all over the world. I had to convince my father in the afternoon to go, up to that point he was not so much into reggae music (except for Bob Marley of course), but he loved it and I had to convince him once more that at some point it was time to leave. I was hilarious when he in shock pointed out to me that some other guys sitting at his table were smoking weed. That according to his memory was the first time he saw someone hit some green, and the weird smell he couldn’t immediately identify. His facial expression really cracked me up and served his credibility, although he must have been in amidst of the ‘60s movements being a medical student in Hamburg at that time.

Anyway, the music and the people were great and I made a nice acquaintance with whom I would spend the whole penultimate day of my stay.

Identity crisis? - Day 7, 07/22/2009

My dad seemed to me more relaxed to let me drive his car after I safely returned from Aburi, even though the traffic in Ghana is a big mess, regulations-less so to speak. Obviously there are certain rules and such but nobody pays attention to them. There is no such thing as right of way when basically everyone thinks he (most of the divers are male) has the right to go first, which leads to huge inner-city jams because many junctions don’t have traffic lights. Unless you cut somebody off when you try to pull out of a parking spot, amidst of all the annoying and stupid honking going on. A funny observation I made was that I gradually transformed into one of them as far as my driving style was concerned. Something else I noticed was that I was the only one to wear a seat belt. The mentality there unfortunately perceives a seat belt as annoying while driving – that is, useless. Therefore obviously the percentage of lethal car accidents is much higher than for instance in Germany.

To give you an idea check out the pictures I took illustrating typical traffic situations.

 

 

Visiting other Universities when I get the chance to has become one of my minor hobbies. I don’t know why, but I’m always curious what schools of higher education look like compared to mine. Therefore, I had to take a look at Ghana University in Accra. The Campus compound was huge I felt, maybe it was not that huge after all but at least three times as big as my campus where it came in handy to drive around by car instead of taking a walk. The faculty buildings, on the other hand, were pretty small compared to the towering buildings of the VU. Anyway, I don’t want to bore you any further with my campus description.

Thereafter Abeiku and I went to check out the new embassy of the United States of America…’are you effin’ kidding me’, I was thinking…huge, incredibly massive, a modern day fortress sort of. I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think it’s the embassy of all of West Africa, but as I said I don’t know precisely. We were not allowed to take pictures obviously but we did anyway, it was just so incredibly huge. I guess the embassy is gonna be very busy in the future now that US sponsored oil rigs are already under construction off the shore of Ghana. I hope they won’t put me on a special investigation list or something for publishing an embassy picture …you never know!

 

Finally, I went to the art center of Accra, where artists and craftsmen present paintings, carvings, jewelry, decorations, furniture, instruments etc.  One thing I realized from the beginning of my stay is that I am perceived as a “white” person in Ghana, a so called “obruni”, whom perceivably everyone on the street either wants to sell something to, is curious about, interested in talking to etc. Obviously that’s not exactly the case but it feels like it, because everyone knows I’m from  some Western Country. So in their mind I am white, a foreigner, a tourist, someone not only loaded with dough, but also willing to spend a lot. In the beginning I responded very kindly that I was uninterested to buy and such, but after a week or so I unfortunately displayed some rudeness on my behalf which I always felt sorry about right after, but it became so annoying. My father always says:”They have to live as well!”, I guess he has a point. But you can imagine how I was racing through the art center, buying a couple of beautiful carvings, and leaving rather quickly afterwards. What these craftsmen were able to do was incredible.

Anyway, I started thinking about the general perception of me in Ghana, being “white”, as already mentioned. Though, being half cast I do consider myself black after all, since this is the perception in the country I grew up in. So I was always different than others, growing up in a little town Lower Saxony, Germany. The curly hair, the brown skin. But apparently, since all societies of countries I am affiliated with, be it through my blood (Ghana, Denmark, and Sweden) or passport (Germany) consider me a foreigner I do not have a true national identity. Maybe that’s why I know in what country I would like to settle someday. For most of my friends Germany is a safe bet, but not for me. My destination remains to be seen. And who am I to root for when Germany faces Ghana on the 23^rd of June at the World Cup 2010 in South Africa??? I don’t know.

One might consider me identity-less, but I consider myself blessed…                                                       …I’m cosmopolitan I guess!!    

'Excuse me..?' - Day 9, 07/24/2009

Saturday was marked by relaxation and great conversations with the German acquaintance from Wednesday at the beach and so on. We basically hung out all day and I was grateful my dad let me have the car when I needed to. I won’t spoil you with further details of that day, except for one incident that was a little awkward. Later at night when I gave the acquaintance a ride home, it must have been around 2 o’clock at night, I was pulled over at one of those nightly police security positions in Accra. The police man that waved me over with his flashlight, indicating I was required to slow down, and another one both looked at me and my acquaintance –“Good evening!”, I said-  and then glimpsed into the back of the car without saying a word. Although I knew everything was fine I felt a little uneasy due to their initial silence. Obviously, they could tell we were not Ghanaian nationals and I was about to take out my passport as I assumed that would be the first thing they would ask about. “How is your father?” the officer asked…’Excuse me...??’, I was thinking…”Oh my father, he’s fine. Thanks for asking.”, I think I said. He told me he only pulled me over because I kept my high beam on when I approached the position. I couldn’t figure out whether or not he was trying to excuse himself, but I suppose they have a point in randomly pulling over any car they want. They also were so kind to tell us exactly which way we should go, since we lost our way a little bit. The acquaintance’s place was way out of town, I don’t know exactly how long it took me to get back home, but it must have been a somewhat 45 minute ride. Anyhow, I managed to find my way back home which wasn’t a big deal I suppose but which I was a little proud of anyway.      ( I sort of like the word "acquaintance"...you noticed!)

Back to reality! - Day 10, 07/25/2009

Besides packing for the return trip, reading and spending some more quality time with my beloveth father I also got to meet his best buddy who is a pretty relaxed German dentist himself who lives and works in Hamburg, but frequently travels to Ghana to monitor the construction of his house and see his fiancé.

By the end of the day I was looking forward to go back home to Amsterdam. It’s always great to be on vacation but at some point one wants to get back to normal life.

- The End -

The title of this entry by the way alludes to my nightly encounters with the toilet rim since midway through my stay. I must have eaten something I wouldn’t digest properly; of course I couldn’t tell what it was. But this shall not overshadow the terrific time I had in Ghana overall.  I hope I can go back in two years time after I graduated and take a good friend along and show him/her what West Africa is about!

Akwaaba to Ghana (diary pt. 1)

So you think you know about Ghana (??) …but you have no idea…this is the diary.

 

“Ready or not, here I come” - Day 1, 07/16/2009                                                            Traveling to Ghana economy class is not like any other flight you take. You don’t just check through surveillance scans, board the plane, take the seat you chose via online check-in and off the Airbus takes…noooo. You go to the circus! Patience, as I probably will get back to later, is not a strong suit of black African natives. So imagine a 30 minute delay of the boarding time and once everyone has walked through safety scans and crowded up (not queued up) in front of the gate, KLM ground personnel suddenly remembers to announce that business class travelers, skyteam-blue-member-whatever travelers may board first...it was getting pretty loud out there, but I have to admit, although I was quite angry about the whole handling myself, I sort of enjoyed observing other people’s reactions. That was my first Ghana experience of the trip. The second followed right after business people etc. had gone through and KLM ground personnel announced that parents with little kids may board then… imagine the rest.                    So I grabbed my seat, which already mentioned I thoughtfully picked when checking in online. It was an aisle seat nearby the toilet (for whatever reason I never went) and unless two travelers who wanted to sit next to each other would have booked last minute, I would have had the whole row for myself…niiiice I thought when sitting down. Niiiice the kind of guy I can be sometimes, I agreed to get reseated to a “way better seat”, as the stewardess worded it, after having a little discussion with her, so that a mother with two daughters could be seated next to each other. When I took the “way better seat” I immediately hated her, the stewardess, not the big partition wall in front of me, not the people who wouldn’t understand that our extended leg space did NOT mean there was a walk through from one isle to the other, not the two mothers with their little screaming babies next to me, not the little girl behind me that was going to be bored the whole flight which would lead to her kicking the seat in front of her over and over again until she was reminded by the person sitting in that seat while trying to watch a movie or two to please stop, I hated only the stewardess. And she knew it right away. It became a mutual lets-pretend-to-be-nice-to-each-other atmosphere, unluckily for her she had to be nice and I did not. I will not go in depth on that, but let me put it that way, she was well aware of my dissatisfaction. The “could you please group us together” – “I think I found a couple of seats next to each other, let me just ask the people sitting there” – game went on almost until the carrier was on the strip ready to depart.  Finally everybody was seated, the little kids kept quiet for a bit (there were many, and nobody walking through to the other aisle anymore. A couple minutes of peacefulness, but that was only until the “you may unbelt your seat” sound rang out…whatever…                                           The landing at Kotoka Airport was quite smooth. I was looking forward to the moment of saying goodbye to the stewardesses on the way out except for one and descend from the carrier. As you may recall, I am not a big fan of air travel. The moment I stepped out of the plane I immediately recalled my first visit to Ghana nine years ago…the air, the humidity…just so different from central Europe.  “Yeah right, I totally forgot…”, I was thinking. “Ready or not, here I come”.

Kotoka International Airport is not a very big one compared to, for instance, Schiphol Luchthaven in Amsterdam. The whole procedure of being granted permission to enter the country is ridiculously circumstantial. It starts in the back in the air, when all passengers have to fill out two forms, one about immigration intentions, I mean *Hellooooo!* it should be more than clear that I’m only a visitor once taking a look at my 50-bucks-visa, the other one being about commercial items that potentially would be subject to customs duties, unless they were bought in a duty free shop at the airport of departure. Then your passport and visa are checked for the first time (which usually also is the only time). Dubiously, there are random “officers” standing in the hallway leading to the luggage conveyor who think it might be necessary to double check your passport and do the whole “What are your intentions for your visit etc”-questionnaire again, like for some reason I haven’t previously filled out a four-folded visa application form in The Hague in which the purpose of my stay is stated in detail. I my opinion once the visa is granted there shouldn’t be any additional questions, it’s just unnecessary and annoying, period. And definitely not a third time after  one has waited for about 20 minutes to get his luggage, which at that stage could be subject to opened to check whether the statement about the items brought with is correct or not. But none of those officers opened one single bag, they just did the usual “What are your intentions for your visit etc”-questionnaire and would let one pass anyway…of course…I mean, c’mon…are you effin’ kidding me??!

 

The reunion of my father and me was less emotional than I thought it would be for some reason. I mean we both were exuberantly happy to finally see each other again…but no tears, which I feared could possibly cross my cheek. To my surprise he really hasn’t changed that much physically. At his age he seems to be in quite good shape, which I am very glad about…and he is old compared to other parents with 21 year old children.Apparently he was not joking when he always said he felt so young, which I realized that same night when we hit two clubs. *Ok, allriiiight!*

 

 

 

Around town - Day 2, 07/17/2009                                                                                      On the second day he first showed me his old dental clinic he worked in as a freelancer, followed by one of his new clinics where he was about to start off the Monday after and which was more stable with 5 ½ working days a week. His partner, and which was also the owner of the two clinics my dad is going to work in, was a very charismatic Libanese-french dentist who settled in Ghana years ago and who is about the same age as papa. Obviously the clinics in Ghana are not quite as modern as the European ones, but I don’t think that 20 years ago clients were that much disadvantaged to nowaday’s state of the art dental technology. After all I’m very glad he took the new job, and so is he.

We went on to get me a SIM card for my cell phone so we could stay connected for the next eight days, since my Dutch SIM had no reception of any kind. Furthermore, it would probably be way too expensive to use my Dutch SIM anyway. Compared to the Dutch fees, using a cell in Ghana is fairly cheap – that is, of course only when your monetary in- and output spells as EUROs. The current exchange rate is 0.5 if you’d like to buy Ghana cedis (GHS), respectively 2.0 if you purchase Euros. That’s not too bad in comparison to for instance pocketing 5000 cedis bills back in 2k during my first visit, which then must have been worth about 50 Euro cents of today’s value, I suppose.                                                                                             When driving through Accra one will notice the massive marketing campaign of Vodafone, which I was quite saddened about. In an exploiting fashion one will see red painted houses and shops with a centered Vodafone logo… almost EVERYWHERE!! Each main road is could basically be named Vodafone avenue. When I saw this I realized that sadly this type of advertising will only be possible in poor countries where big corporations take advantage of misery and poverty. I mean if someone is offered a certain amount of money (which would be fairly small in EU terms) to get a paint job on his little store in most of Africa he or she would hardly reject it. African competitors like MTN try to keep up with Vodafone’s ad machinery big time, of course. There is even memorial squares that are presented by Vodafone…can you imagine? It’s certainly some disturbing image when getting around town. (Backstory: Vodafone was able to acquire somewhat 70 percent of Ghana telecom shares during the previous administration lead by former president Kuffour, which caused indignation throughout the nation. See also:                                                            http://www.vodafone.com.gh/About-Us/News/Vodafone-Launches--Vodafone-Rewards--Promo.aspx                                                                                                          &                                                                                                  http://ghanabusinessnews.com/2009/04/16/ghana-telecom-onetouch-now-vodafone/ )

 

In the afternoon we went to Labadi Beach, which would almost become a ritual throughout my stay since we went there every day, sometimes if only for an hour or two.  The beach itself is honestly not the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, but it is a nice place to relax, have a bite to eat and recharge. The fact that papa has free entrance to the beach (as well as all clubs and bars around town, for various reasons) makes the decision easy to drop by on a daily basis.

Although Ghana is better off than many other African countries it remains a Third World country. Images of beggars on the street at every junction are common place, or children leading a blind family member from car to car asking for help – money, that is. An ironic picture unfolds when driving down Labadi road, on one side all the 4- and 5-star hotel resorts facing slum-type neighborhoods on the other side of the free way, where running water and constant electricity is not taken for granted, let alone a functioning waste disposal system, the latter of which I would say is a major problem throughout the whole city. One feels almost guilty when thinking about the deluxe circumstance of being born in, say, Germany. Anybody on welfare my home country is 10 times better off than the average Ghanaian I suppose. But that’s just the way it is.

 

Later in the evening we went out again, which I pretty quickly got used to throughout my stay.

One of those days - Day 3, 07/18/2009                                                                           Nothing exciting happened that day. I had a couple of those. Sleeping in until noon, watching some episodes of How I Met Your Mother, reading some magazines, relaxing at the beach, enjoying the weather and going out at night was basically all I did.

…oh and my father also dropped a bombshell that day, but that’s a different story.

Baring the Roots

Finally we were granted a break at school. Though first year is not over just yet, due to a probable re-sit on August 20^th , the break is effective nonetheless. Those two courses I failed will simply be passed in the 4^th term, …next year I’m gonna be a lot more serious about it anyway, of course! (…as usual) As for now I’ve pretty much been working, working out, enjoyed Amsterdam’s summer sun on the basketball court, picked up reading “The Kite Runner” again, which I haven’t turned a page in for weeks, and visited a close friend in cologne.

Additionally, in the beginning of the year I decided that this summer I would trace back my roots of origin. Not that I was going to spend the summer in Denmark and visit my granny like I used to do every summer until I was about 15, but rather I felt like I had to visit my father in Ghana this year, who I haven’t seen in four years and change by now…so I went.

Ghana, formerly Gold Coast, is a fairly small democratic republic in West-Africa bordering to the Golf of Guinea with roughly 21 million inhabitants. Being the first African country to detach itself from the British colonial rule, Ghanaians are very proud of their history and their origin although it has been “brand marked” by over 300 years of slave trade starting in the late 15^th century .  Ghana has a vast amount of commodities such as gold, lead, bauxite, copper, diamonds, oil, gas etc. , some of which are still waiting to be mined, due to a lack of investment. Obviously gold and diamonds are amongst those as Ghana is the second largest gold exporting country in the world. Recently, also oil fields where found off shore by Americans and will be tabbed on starting towards the end of 2010. Officially President Obama’s recent visit to Ghana, and which was his first visit to Africa as President, was to emphasize Ghana’s progress after the British occupation in terms of being one of the two countries in Africa which successfully have adopted democratic values into their society and should be an example to the other African nations. Obama did not word it like that, since there are also many other “democratic republics” or simply “democracies” in Africa, but we all know that apart from South Africa those nations are more likely to be ruled by (often military) dictatorship, where elections are unjust and presidents remain in office for decades. So knowing that the US has a major stake in the upcoming oil and gas production in Ghana and is also looking for other investments in natural resources, it becomes obvious hat behind the scenes of his visit, Brack Obama did not solely have Ghana’s political progress in mind when landing at Kotoka International Airport in Accra. I hope that oil, which is supposed to be a gift for a country, does not become a curse for Ghana, as it has become for Nigeria…but that, I suppose, is in the hands of Ghana’s newly elected President Atta Mills. (May God bless his decision making!)  As in many non-post-industrialized countries, for Ghana agriculture is still one of the major industries to contribute to Ghana’s gross national product. Sugar cane, coffee, tea, cauchuck, but most importantly cocoa, of which Ghana is the world’s single most producing nation, are the most important agricultural products for export throughout the world. Recently products such as tobacco, pineapple, bananas and palm oil have also been taken a shot at. Nonetheless, the majority of farmers are subsistence cultivators, who only produce for their families.

 

Accra, Ghana’s capital and largest city is where I resided. My father has an apartment in a ‘hood called Asylum Down, near by the city center. The first time I visited Ghana I was thirteen years old, so now at the age of 21 I was expecting totally different experience…and so it turned out to be!

"What the **** ??!"

On may 23rd, a Saturday I believe, a then colleague and now friend of mine
went to that thing. I refer to it as a "thing" because I cannot really define
what it was. I already told a couple of friends about it, and even in my native
tongue, I had a hard time putting what I've seen into words. I was
to write earlier about it but laziness kicked in, as usual...who cares?!
The thing took place at a remote abandoned dock area near Amsterdam's harbor. It took us about 45 minutes from our meeting point to even get there, which in proportion to the size of
Amsterdam seems to be quite a long time.  I had no clue whatsoever what was awaiting us
and neither did she, even though it was her that came up with the idea to check that thing out.
The last ten minutes of the ride were marked by an ’82 Volkswagen camping van, two illustrious “taxi drivers”, a third passenger amongst us as well as a bicycle and an old oven, which gave us some thing to hold on to since there was no seat belt…never mind seats…and also, a bottle of wine in the front row.
Given the forlorn road we hit it was quite an enjoyable drive, although I couldn’t really take part
in the conversation, but I’ll come back to that concern later on. Having arrived at the venue I suddenly felt “dazed and confused”. What was going on here? Is this really happening?...questions I would ask myself multiple times throughout the night.
Rusted old industry junk was all over the place. Idle factory buildings and containers overrun with rogue weed, trees and bushes in amidst the constructions, and to my amazement those containers and buildings were inhabited...not only by bats and rats I suppose but also by human beings. It sounds quite primitive and it sort of was but I am dead sure those people lived there by choice and not out of desperation, which instead of making the scenery pitiful made it so much more interesting. Even though I never experienced the decade, I felt as if I was back in the seventies. I was facing a flat out hippie community as I would put it. In disbelief and astonishment, alongside my friend, I strode over the compound surrounded by up to 15-hundred people. The “thing” happened to be a festival, namely the Damoclash, organized by artists, students, respectively art-students. The festival was basically about bands, theater, poetry, movies, open stage, politics, squat info, discussion, food and drinks…the reason why I have difficulties to refer to it as a festival is because the very word depicts something completely else in my mind. Probably because what I refer to as being art remained to be seen throughout the whole night. Obviously the artists were students/amateurs, not to take anything away from them, who must have had a concept of presenting bizarre pieces, but there was simply no message to be found, nothing that made me cogitate about the reason for them to do what they did. For instance ludicrous character dances on one “stage” performed by three girls who at some point acted retarded or as if they had tourette syndrome conditions, where in one moment I felt embarrassed and seconds later was quite impressed by the way they pulled it off…in a fashion in which I would never be able to do it. But I could not tell if I liked it or not because of the fact that it was or appeared to be meaningless…and neither could she.
This is evidently not the only performance I after all was glad to witness, but it would be getting too much into detail if I would keep talking about it. In short, the people that inhabited the compound, the organizers and operators as well as the performers and visitors all seemed to be very nice and relaxed people, which obviously is a very superficial impression but the overall atmosphere was great. There admittedly were a couple freaky and creepy people as well who spiced the whole “thing” up a little bit alongside a bunch of dogs running around and unconsciously taking part in the plays etc.     Due to our late arrival we missed the poetry slams which were in the afternoon, and unfortunately I couldn’t enjoy the different music genre performances, from hip hop and folk, through minimal and drum&bass, since the artists were basically lacking passion and musical talent. Nonetheless, I have to say that I enjoyed myself the whole night. It happened to be something I couldn’t imagine myself ever experiencing and therefore it has been one of the most exciting nights here so far.  

I uploaded a video for you just to give you a better impression. It’s quite short and my cell phone camera resolution is anything but great…anyway, you’ll see a guy dressed up in a white doctor’s robe, wearing a mask and perpendicularly holding a pair of dummy legs in front of his chest while walking around on “stage”. The backdrop consists of a canvas made up of two white blankets on which a digital projector would visualize obscure but colorful images at times.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WL8W4eTEz5o

Back to normal:

First of all I have to say “thank you L.” for dropping that comment on my last entry, and thanks everybody that reads my blog and has given me positive feedback so far. It most definitely does keep me motivated.

Meanwhile I have done not so well in school lately. After having obtained the minimum credits necessary to advance to the 2^nd year classes I had a little slump in terms of keeping up with the lectures, literature and home assignments, which in effect leads me to retaking the statistics 1 course next year.
But as of now, I feel like I’m back on track again…I guess I just needed a little break, which as indicated in one of my earlier entries is not provided my university.
So now there is two more weeks of school and then the first year is over with…*yippiekaye*!!

As far as my new year’s resolution is concerned, I’m far from there yet. My Dutch is still horrible…well I understand about 90% I would say, but speaking the language…??  I talked to my neighbor in the elevator the other day about me going to campus to play some (basket)ball, and I was so proud of my self in the beginning until I thought back to our “conversation” and realized I didn’t really say that much and just ended up nodding and smiling in the end…’nough said!

P.S. : "Untitled"

I haven't been posting for over six weeks now so here is a brief "4-point play" of what has been
going on lately:
- I finally received my Student-OV card 4 weeks ago, which enables me to use all public
transportation for free in the Netherlands throughout working days.
- I was glad to be home over the Easter Holidays and see friends and family, although it was only for three days...like I already mentioned in a previous post, my university is very unkind with regard to breaks and such.
- the sun has come out...A'dam and sunshine is like the cake and the icing.
- I started reading a new book a week ago, "The Kite Runner", which is suppose to be vivid and engaging...we'll see...I suppose I'll post a review once I'm done, which could take a while due to the upcoming exams (Corporate Finance & Statistics 1)

***********************************************************
"You annoy me, therefore I exist." - Words I've been thinking about for the past 4 weeks.
"Did he just say that?", I was asking myself while rewinding the movie ("Defiance"- starring
Daniel Craig) after one of the characters uttered them. "Yes, he did!...So what the hell does that mean?!" I've been very reluctant to interpret the line, due to laziness. In fact I even googled it in hopes of possibly finding an academic construal or anything that would lead me to an answer. Negative! So in order to get this quote of my mind I'll just attempt to find an answer right now.

"Annoyance",by definition, means: the psychological state of being irritated; while
"existence" is defined by: being - the state or fact of existing (both according to wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn).

To me the causal relationship between annoyance and existence is the troubling part of the sentence. "You annoy me, therefore I exist." Obviously, one can only be annoyed if one exists but not vice versa. You see I already evaded from trying to interpret the statement to judging it right or wrong. It has to be clear that when talking about existence the human being's being is meant.

The fact that existence is permanent over the life span from being born to passing away (R.I.P.) and annoyance as defined is a "psychological state", which under normal conditions is evanescent, excludes the possibility of causality in the first place. So the statement could be graded as false, BUT I think it shouldn't when viewed from a sociological standpoint. Since annoyance takes place in our psyche,
more often than we'd like to admit to ourselves, and our psyche defines who we are as human beings being, one's existence is partly shaped by annoyance. Thus one's existence will be recognized by others partly for what one is annoyed by and to what extent.

(I would very much welcome any comments and interpretations of this statement!)

Post Scriptum:
...I wrote a little poem a couple of weeks ago:

"Untitled" - by Y.A.(2009)

Remotely he is trying to understand,
How being a boy avails being a man.

Over and over they cross his mind,
Three words that barely can be defined,
Three words so hollow yet one of a kind,
Three words almighty, can't be denied.

Distance impedes them to cross his lips,
Resistance is weaved through body and gist,
To some degree nearness puts on a twist,
His mind is deceived, oh fearless he is.

Thinking once, twice, he cannot decide,
Thinking thrice those words become lie.

* **** ***!

...as already mentioned in my first entry, I would welcome comments of any sort, to give me ideas and incentives for upcoming entries ;) !

Pass that dutch!

First and foremost to follow up my last entry, I just briefly want to mention that the promotional trip to two international high schools in Düsseldorf and Essen in Germany was great. Although in the end (from my point view) the pay was risible, after being on the road for 14 hours and returning exhausted, I was very grateful for the opportunity to give a presentation in front of strangers for the first time, in my favorite language so far...yet to be explored: English! After all, it was a great experience and I would be very likely to do such thing again.

A college of mine gave me this article a couple of weeks ago. I don't know when and in what German newspaper or journal it was published, but I thought it is very interesting and this is why I want to share it with you. I'll try to translate in one-on-one, so please regard the following as a quote:

Why the Dutch are so differently minded? - by Helmut Hetzel

The Hague. They trust homosexual couples, they legalize prostitution, regulate euthanasia [assisted suicide], and they grant permission to smoke a joint to whomever likes to do so. The Dutch make sure they get constant international attention. [...] What kind of society is this in which doings are possible for which one could get penalized for and which are regarded as reprehensible and unethical in other countries? Why of all people are the Dutch so "different" in the way the handle socio-political issues? Is it associated with the proverbial tolerance? And if so, why of all things are the Dutch so tolerant?
The "little country at the seaside"'s tolerance does not exist by chance. It's a result of a 400-year-long social development.  As early as 20 years after the war of independence against the Spanish emperor where not only political but also clerical autonomy was concerned, the Republic of the Seven United Netherlands was proclaimed in 1588. It is internationally recognized since 1648 [...] and therefore is one of the first nations of Europe. This nation thrived in its early age. Amsterdam emerged to the center of world trade [in the 17th century, the Dutch so called Golden Age]. Vessels of the United East India Company (VOC) circumnavigated the oceans and breached the Spanish predominance on the seven seas.They brought riches and resources from China, Indonesia, Japan, Africa, and America to Amsterdam. Workforce was needed everywhere, thus immigrants were more than welcome. Cities such as Amsterdam, Leiden, and Delft were just as multi-cultural 400 years ago as they are today. Back then as well as today the motto was: Live and let live. Trade and earn money.
On the domestic front four political and ideological drifts developed in the 18th, 19th, and 20th century: the Calvinists, the Catholic, the Liberal, and the Socialists, the so called Dutch pillars of society. The most outstanding characteristic of this pillar society was tolerance towards each other regardless of faith and conviction. Hence, despite the major differences between e.g. the Socialist and Calvinist ideology, somehow one had to figure out to get along with one another, to compromise and organize the republic on a daily basis. The only alternative would have been a civil war, which nobody wanted. So this is how the typical Dutch compromising, consensus, and tolerant culture was born. Tolerance in the Netherlands arose from the bottom up, having people with different ideologies, convictions and cultural backgrounds live next to each other, other than in Prussia [Ger. Preußen] where ideology was dictated from top down. Additionally, the cradle of the nation was earmarked by the rebellion against
the authority. From this revolutionary national consciousness the Dutch strong self-confidence was developed as well as a certain sense of mission. One is deeply convinced to do only the right and nothing immoral, which is symbolized by the curtain less windows of homes saying: "Look here, we have nothing to hide!"
The Dutch are free thinkers, pragmatists, and merchants. It was the Dutch Hugo Grotius, who with his tractate was the first to plead for free world trade and freedom of the seas in the 17th century, which made him the first "globalizer".
Also the Dutch for instance, in 1612, founded the "Actie" in Amsterdam and what would be the first stock exchange in the world. There is a say, which suggests that two souls reside in a dutch man's/woman's breast: the soul of the pastor and the trader's one. But if pastor-soul and the trader-soul come amiss, the trader-soul almost certainly wins.
Consequently, complicated socio-political issues are always handled with a pragmatic and not an ideological approach. Therefore, the following precept pertains: If these problems already exist, we cannot turn a blind eye on it but we have to solve them. And if we cannot solve them we at least have to regulate 'em! As a result drug use, euthanasia, and gay marriage are regulated through law as it is right and proper for a civilized nation. The fact that some other countries are less pleased with this kind of regulation leaves the Dutch cold as ice. Ultimately, due to their Calvinist culture they are convinced to do the right thing.

"Going down..."

On February 25th a Turkish commercial airline dropped from the sky on a field while seconds before it would hit the runway. The cause remains to be found, but first assessments point towards a lack of kerosene in the tank I suppose.approaching Amsterdam Airport Schiphol Knowing that aviation statistically is the safest way to travel from point A to point B, I always feel a slight unease when I enter an aircraft. Generally I'm not scared of airborne transportation, but I'm very aware of putting my life into somebody else's hands, as a matter of fact, in many people's hands. I'd rather have it be my own fault than someone else's if something should happen to me. Consequently, I am very likely to travel with an airline that I know and that has a rattling good reputation.
By all means, ever since that wreck on the twenty-fifth, I constantly hear planes above my head when I'm at home - that is, I happen to live in Amsterdam Zuidoost/Bijlmer where airplanes are routed across at a perceived altitude of about 200-200 meters. Once you can tell whether it's of instance a KLM, British Airways, Lufthansa or Scandinavian aircraft that is passing overhead at a very high rate, you know what time it is - it's time to think of something else, which has become quite difficult lately. As I learned Biljmer, in October of 1992, was subject to one of the most disastrous airplane crashes in a city, other than  "alleged" terroristic motivated calamities! (Yes, I'm a conspiracy believer!! Go watch Zeitgeist-The Movie and draw your own conclusions! It's quite interesting and powerful... http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-594683847743189197) The 2nd picture shows the building that was hit, which was about a 20 minute foot walk from where I live. Although chances are diminutive that a catastrophe like this is going to happen again in Bijlmer, yet the thought still keeps me pausing for when I read my book and I hear turbine-powered birds outside.

German speaking readers can check out the following link to get more information.
http://www.myvideo.de/watch/2473242/flugzeugabsturz_in_Amsterdam

Speaking about Bijlmer, briefly I would like to make something clear. Because every time when people ask me where I live and I tell them I instantaneously either get a funny face or a comment on that place. First of all it belongs to the city of Amsterdam, namely Amsterdam Zuidoost, that used to be different somewhat 15 years ago. Secondly, yes there is a variety of people from other countries of the world living in Zuidoost. Mainly people from West Africa, Asia, the Middle East, and former Dutch colonies like Suriname or The Netherlands Antilles. Ever since the quarter has been renewed and reconstructed, with for instance one of the biggest shopping areas in Holland, new housing facilities etc., a growing white population is sighted in this area. Crime rates used to be very high back in the day and that's basically all the funny faces know! I don't want to be deceptive, I suppose there is still more crime here that in other places, but Bijlmer is not a Ghetto!! :) Whenever I see elderly women and children out on the street late in the evenings, it indicates to me that I do not have to worry here (in Ganzenhoef more precisely). Finally, people should check it out themselves and not rely on so called second-hand experiences, things they've once heard about somewhere.
For more specific information check out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bijlmermeer

This Thursday a friend of mine and I will be in Germany promoting my university at two international high schools in Dusseldorf and Essen. We received all the materials and the presentation this morning, and I think it will be fun...giving a presentation to many students I don't know for the first time. So I'm excited...

Metro51

The day before yesterday I had one of the worst days here in A'dam, relatively speaking (Amsterdam has been magnificent to me so far!). Not that I felt physically or mentally ill...I simply missed a so called topic exam of my Logistics and Operational Research course. We've got 4 of those topic exams, the best three of which will be averaged and will account for 40% of the final grade. The first couple went quite well so I was somewhat motivated to take the 3rd. Usually it is my fault when I'm tardy for class or appointments, not this time though. Being well prepared and thus in a good mood I decided to make sure I would be punctually 15 minutes early. A quick shower, an apple on the way, and a swift three minute walk to the metro station later I realized that I had to wait an extra twelve minutes due to a malfunctioning metro. 'Aight', I thought, 'nothing unusual'! Metros in Amsterdam are strikingly often sidelined for whatever reason. I face those situations probably two to three times a week. Anyway, I still would be on time, well...sort of. At Spaklerweg, where I usually transfer to Metro51 'naar' AmstelveenWestwijk another train was out of order - that is, an additional 10 minutes of tardiness. So by then I expected to be about 10 minutes late, still doable. But that was only until the doors of the wagon, me and a felt one-hundred other people were squeezed in, wouldn't open at the Zuid station, one stop before my University. Another about ten minutes later I found myself running to the examination hall. Once I got there I understood two things, I was 5 minutes over the slack time of fifteen minutes for one, and secondly I need to get in way better shape if I want to try out for the VU basketball squad in September.
Of course the lecturer wouldn't make an exception; if you do it once you will end up doing in multiple times and where to draw the line. At that particular moment I honestly had a different opinion on her, however. I was not the only one to be late due to a particular Metro51 so collectively everybody wrote an individual mail to the examination board to explain the circumstances. All we received was a computerized answer stating that the board has decided congregate on the 18th to discuss the issue. Given that we have our last lecture tomorrow and the fourth topic exam on Tuesday I better not comment on that decision. (Mommy taught me to remain quiet sometimes before you say something you might regret one day!) To cut the matter short I don't expect an unscheduled second chance.

Although the Amsterdamse metro is quite unreliable, and there are only 4 routes, I cannot really be mad at it. After all, I was able to use my one month subscription dating back to September '08 up until now without getting busted. Nothing to be proud of, sure! However, my budget constraints of the last couple of months disabled me of buying the like for subsequent months. It shall only be a matter of time until the controllers find out. Also the bus drivers shouldn't constantly be giving me a free ride to basketball practice. 
After a while you sort of develops tricks, and adjust your behavior to the type of controller that is checking you. Is it a guy that already has been standing at the gates of Waterlooplein for some hours and is annoyed by it, simply say "Hi" to him in a nice way and hold up your pass, he won't even look at it. You should always observe how the controllers behave when checking the people in front of you. Therefore I always make sure I'm not the first one to enter the bus or to cross the gates at the metro station. When there are two people to check passengers, you should always go the one that seems less likely to scrutinize your pass. Say the guy tries to look more closely at passes, you should simply pretend to be irritated by the whole checking situation: no kindness, very short eye contact, straight forward look...they better not dare to suspend your ride. If He is a She, give her a subtle smile while greeting her and put on a tiny little bit of charm in the mix...she won't even look at your pass!! Basically I'm still waiting to be revealed, I could have put aside my dishonesty on that matter since I've started working for TomTom in January, but my laziness simply took over.
Once I obtain the OV card, which lets me use public transportation throughout the Netherlands for free, in April, all of this won't be concern anymore.

Cheers!

Gimme A Break!

I've been thinking about this for a while now and also my friends and family have heard me complain about this, but  why on earth does the VU (Vrije Universiteit), my university, not grant their students a break between the first and the second semester? At first I thought it was a Dutch thing so I said to myself "Oh well! When in Rome, do as the Romans do!".
But then I found out, meeting other students from other universities, that the VU is actually one of the few to do that...again: why?  I actually couldn't come up with an answer and  probably there will be no further investigations, since basically I'm too lazy and it wouldn't change anything anyhow. I do not really feel sorry for myself, don't get me wrong, but it's a little aggravating when most of my friends in Germany, Duitsland as they say, have about four weeks off before the second semester kicks off.
Duitsland, by the way, is my home country.  I was born and  raised in Lower Saxony, 90 km south of my beloveth Hamburg, only I do not bear any German blood in me though.

Anyway, this weekend is 'carnaval'!! People in the southern Netherlands go crazy these days I'm told. I won't actually be down there, nonetheless I decided to go to a carnaval party with a friend from school tonight. The location will be a big boat (called Stubnitz) which momentarily is docked at Amsterdam's harbor.

I honestly am really looking forward, for I don't get to party in Amsterdam as much as I'd like to due to financial and time constraints. Clubbing in A'dam is quite expensive I suppose.
So I'm ready to bust some moves tonight, not that I'm good or anything...
...here are a couple of vids of people I admire (at least one of 'em) and enjoy watching.
Watch how they get it on:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whDnO_ehg0Y

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Yah2hCxCjU