Into the Neverlands

It seems like I wasn't beating around the bush with the post on privacy settings on Facebook. danah boyd calls them 'the most flexible and the most confusing privacy settings in the industry' yet she maintains that many Facebookers don't realise their flexibility.

Howeer, she also points out that privacy settings should be about awareness and context besides the possibility of control. In other words, ideally each time we tag somebody in a photo it would be pleasant to know who can view it and customise that.

Another exceptionally good distinction regarding privacy is made by Clay Shirky - the fact that between private and public personal has disappeared. He gives an example of having a chat with a stranger in a park - it is not a private act, yet not a public one either. Shirky points out that nowadays we mostly tend to use the word personal when we refer to technology.

In this respect and with the growing popularity of SNS and the being online which in fact is increasingly becoming doing online as our presence on the Net is becoming increasingly participatory by chatting, linking, commenting, tagging, embedding, posting, twittering, it seems that our previous understanding of what is private is irreversibly changing. I can observe two camps emerging: those who try to keep at least a minuscule amount of privacy while participating in the creation of Semantic Web and those who seemingly are no longer concerned with privacy. Nowadays posting information online and hoping to keep it private is a bit like having an affair at work - mostly it gets exposed anyway.

My suggestion for those worried instead of evoking notions of Big Brother would be to think twice before posting anything. And read privacy settings beforehand. And enjoy this data whirlpool which lurkers will never understand.

On the other hand, the privacy issue that worries many is the fact that other Facebookers can upload pictures with you without prior notice. It is possible to detag oneself if others have tagged you and even report the photo for nudity or pornography/drug use/violence/attacks individual or group, yet Facebook warns that they 'will NOT remove photos just because they're unflattering'. I guess, it means say cheese?..

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This one is about inspiration. And patience.

Ted Nelson once said that 'schooling systematically ruins things for us, wiping out these interests; the last thing to be ruined determines your profession' ¹.

During one of the seminars in Utrecht University one girl (luckily, not from the Media studies) expressed her worries about online universities and online lectures. I'd like to know which corners of the Net she's treading and I could suggest a good few.

I adore sites like Ted.com or Fora TV and obviously the good old friend YouTube. Some of the talks on Ted are so remarkable (needless to say free) that I they should make any ambitious professor rethink the content of her lectures twice before even starting to prepare for them. One aspect that makes Ted particularly compelling is the passion that I savour in numerous talks available on the site.

During the past few weeks I realised I would like to learn to program - mainly after watching Jonathan Harris' projects. Which reminds me that in his 1995 interview Friedrich Kittler suggested that students researching cultural studies should know at least two software languages - only then 'they'll be able to say something about what 'culture' is at the moment, in contrast to 'society'² (although that's quite a challenge when media scholars mostly are being trained within the faculties of arts or humanities...).

After Johny Lee's presentation on Wii Remote hacks I thought I should at least get better acquainted with the hacker culture and the ways their practises become quintessential examples of what De Certeau calls 'tactics' (2002)³, such as New York hackers turning iPods into drum machines or devices on which they play Doom. Mirko Schäfer just defended his PhD "Bastard Culture! User participation and the extension of cultural industries" in Utrecht University where among other issues he covers Xbox hacks as examples of participation culture.

Another talk I came across today cost me 4 hours spent in front of a square sheet of paper. I wish I was taught mathematics, computer science and arts the way Robert Lang talks about merging mathematics and origami! Talks like these are like watching the Olympics on the telly or listening to exceptionally good musicians performing - whatever they engage in seems so flawless, yet at the same time so simple, that I instantly consider becoming a figure ice skater or a pianist. I guess my idea of origami was similarly naive... While at first I was intending to make a water bug, for the moment it is a bit of rocket science, so with a bit of visual help, I rather chose to make a more basic beetle.



It's a bit beetle-tired, but it's mine... I wander if I can crack origami, can I hack something?..

Hope everybody is having as much fun this season :)

1. Nelson, T. H. No more teachers' dirty looks. 1970. In N. Wardrip-Fruin and N. Montfort , eds. The new media reader. Cambridge and London: The MIT Press.

2. Technologies of Writing/Rewriting Technology. An Interview with Friedrich A. Kittler about Cultural Studies in Germany, Literature in the Age of Technology and the Blind Spot in Media Theory by Matthew B. Griffin and S.M. Herrmann, available here. The interview originally appeared in Auseinander, Vol.1, No.3 (Berlin, 1995).

3. De Certeau, M. (2002) The Practice of Everyday Life, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: UC Press.

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Monkeys of Yamanouchi, Japan (photo EPA)

Wishing a happy holiday season to all! Off to get new ideas and insights.

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After finally managing to convince a friend of mine who lives in Dublin to get on Facebook (primarily in order to stay in touch), low and behold I discovered that she quietly vanished off the face of Facebook. I didn't get a notification about that...

Previously I was told that disappearing from this social network site is not as easy as joining it and I was presuming that deletion of one's account is not possible. Deletion for users indeed is not possible. But deactivation is.



And you must love Facebook for the possible options given:

I don't feel safe on the site.
I spend too much time using Facebook.
I have another Facebook account.
This is temporary. I'll be back.
I need to fix something in my account.
I don't understand how to use the site.
I receive too many emails from Facebook.
I don't find Facebook useful.
Facebook is resulting in social drama for me.
Other [please explain further].


Unlike Facebook, MySpace allows to cancel the account and in that case the cancellation is irreversible.

So I had two news for my friend: firstly, she indeed became invisible. Yet, secondly, the traces were still there...

However, complete deletion of one's profile is possible, although one has to contact Facebook on that. Before that (and before the deactivation) it is requested to remove any profile content distributed on Facebook: sent and received messages, friends, comments/posts on all of your walls, comments/posts on other peoples walls, all your photos, you will have to leave all the networks and groups, transfer the admin rights to someone else, clear every last bit of information from your profile. Then contacting Facebook and if no traces are left - voila, you will be deleted. At least that is what it sounds, I wonder if anybody has experiences with this.

One of the reasons I came across deactivation/deletion matters was because I was looking whether it was possible to restrict one's profile to being visible only to friends as my newbie Facebook friend was getting worried about privacy. I told her that the Internet is the wrong place to be if one is after privacy, yet it seems that Facebook is flexible enough - it is possible to make one's profile/basic info/personal info/status updates/friends less accessible to the general lurker audience - even though one needs to research a bit on that as an average Joe 6 pack might not find it that easy.

On the other hand, I was wondering about the photos with me on other people's albums - these are out of my control. Vanishing nowadays has become quite complicated...

My conclusion so far is that there is plenty of gossip around about SNS, which is oftentimes based on customised settings, and the only way to come up with answers is to look for them.

I'm thinking whether I can convince my friend to come back... Not that Facebook is the love of my life, but I'd like to see my friend more often. At least on Facebook.

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"Networked culture has yet to ar ticulate itself clearly in spatial terms. The real change happens when networked communities and data manifest in spatial terms." (Headmap Manifesto, p. 50)

I must say that in terms of these processes in Utrecht, I haven't seen much of this happening lately. The manifesto being 10 years old... Please point me into the right direction.

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It is unimaginable to study the new media without creating something within them. So I embarked on a new project today creating a network on Ning for Lithuanians studying and academics working abroad (it's in Lithuanian, so you don't necessarily have to head there).

The main reason for a social network of this kind was the fact that since we are a relatively small country and the numbers of students and academics heading abroad have been rapidly increasing, it has become hard to find them all in one place, get in touch and see what others have been working on. Moreover, there was a notion of patriotism tingling somewhere in the back of my head as academics previously have played a substantial role in establishing the country in the late 1910s and later on in restoring the independence and starting everything from the scratch again in 1990s. As a fellow student of mine told me a few months ago, when one comes from a minute and young country, one has a feasible chance to make some sort of a difference. Perhaps...

Anyhow, setting up a network on Ning allowed me to start getting some idea on how this budding social network(ing) site is working. While danah boyd and Nicole Ellison define
MySpace and FaceBook as social network sites that embed the social networks their users have developed prior to joining them, the developments I have noticed on Ning allow to erase the parentheses and consider the attempt to networking. The matter that interests me most is the nature of the networking and the threads that emerge within this practice.


The first look and in particular at the last results of the searches reveals that there is a lot of solitude on the networks launched on Ning yet - many of them, particularly the ones with the generic sky blue icon are networks of one person still. This poses two possible explanations - either that is because of Ning's relative novelty and the networks need some time develop or the fact that the people joining Ning consider the platform a possibility to establish a room of their own on the Web, which puts the practice of networking in a different and possibly questionable perspective.

Ning co-founder and CEO Gina Bianchini says that 65 percent of Ning's 500 000 social networks are being actively used with a new one springing up every 30 seconds. Since I managed to erase my bookmarks where I believe I had world-wide figures, I am left with the ones from the States and according to Nielsen Online, Ning's year-over-year audience's growth for September was the third largest one after Twitter and Tagged among social network(ing) sites - 343%, 330% and 251% respectively. Ning had 2,955 mln users compared to Twitter's 2,36 mln and Tagged's 3,86 mln. On the average that leaves with 6 people per each Ning network, although, as I have said, many of the ones I found were still underdeveloped and included only one person (and since they were not updated regularly with posts, photographs or videos didn't function as blogs either). The cemetery of attempts... However, some of the more popular ones (a feature Ning offers by random order?), such as I see color have over 60 000 members.

Interestingly, during one of my first encounters with Ning, I randomly searched for networks revolving around the axis of adult-content trying to see whether sex indeed is the forbidden fruit we are all after in the virtual (the first question my avatar was asked on Second Life was 'So, do you wanna have sex?').

While the official Ning blog claims that adult-oriented networks must have a warning page and that they don’t show up in the search results on Ning.com, a quick search by entering various words for male/female genitalia results in dozens of raunchy networks and one doesn't have to look far to find those that are public, appear on the search results and have no warning pages about adult-oriented content.

Since Ning's main money making machine is GoogleAds, such networks have become a cause of serious headache and as of the 1st of January, as Ning blog states, they will no longer support adult social networks on the Ning platform.

From what I have observed so far, it seems that Ning is first of all becoming an ethnographic case study of what Hugo Liu calls taste performance. Unlike FaceBook where the textual plays a major role in displaying one's profile and the bonds with the other users, Ning like MySpace offers the possibility to manipulate the template visually - a feature that in MySpace serves a major tool in constructing one's space. However, while MySpace and FaceBook firstly serve as quintessential platforms for 'friending' rather than making connections with strangers (I find FaceBook more like a pin-up board), the networking priority on Ning is questionable, as solitary notworking is still very evident. It will be interesting to observe whether Ning will evolve into a networking platform and how it will continue to develop. And I will let you know whether my network will develop into a networking practise or I will be doomed for solitude.

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krazydad/jbum photo

Stumbled across this one while fishing in Visual Complexity.

Julian Stallabrass includes an insightful essay on the digitalisation of visual culture 'Sixty Billion Sunsets' in his book Gargantua: Manufactured Mass Culture, published more than a decade ago, yet still making a lot of sense.

Sunsets are some of the most popular subjects in photo banks. I just found 4 556 234 of them on Flickr and 3 117 531 on Picasa. They're mostly highly saturated, with the colours so sticky sweet you want to dip the fingers in them is if they were jars with marmalade.

The photo-graph consists of 150 00 pictures with a tag 'sunset' and demonstrates the manufacturing of the sunset. Krazydad provides a more thorough explanation of his graph.

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Currently I am researching how
linguistically the words representing
the virtual space are being mapped in various languages and I would
appreciate if you took a minute to leave a comment about the words mentioned
below in your native languages. I think this could potentially reveal
a fascinating kaleidoscope of how we define the virtual in various
cultures. While I understand that English lexicon is quite popular,
perhaps some new words are being invented to replace the English ones?
A few words I am interested in are:

***********
'web site'
'blog'
'internet'
'internaut' (or other words defining the users of the internet)
************

I can give you examples in Lithuanian language which in a way explain
the beginnings of this modest attempt:

'web site' is 'interneto svetainė' which in fact means a
living/sitting/common room in the internet.

'blog' is 'tinklaraštis' which means a script on the net or a net that
is weaving a pattern/script. Funny enough, the word 'blogas' (we add
the ending -as to male nouns/adjectives) in Lithuanian means 'bad'.

If you could take a minute to reply with as precise
definitions of the above words with as correct transcription of them
(with dots, umlauts and other diacritics), I would be forever
grateful. If you come up with some other interesting words circulating
within that context or would like to forward the link to other people
from across the globe, you are more than welcome.

Please leave a comment or reply to lina[dot]zigelyte[at]gmail[dot]com . The overview and
an essay will be posted on the blog.

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Preparing for the seminar on performatvity and locatedness of media and performance. This time the subject is Performative Subjects with Foucault's Panopticism and De Certeau's Spatial Practices as the main texts.

While we were discussing the texts prior to seminar, as a possible example worth mentioning within the framework of panopticism and performativity I remembered London cyclorama.



BBC report gives quite a clear explanation of how the cyclorama functions if you haven't heard about it before. Foucauldian paranoia of surveillance remains, yet the fact that the observers can render the flow of time by moving within it leaves room for practising spaces. Consider if somebody went for a walk within the scope of the cameras and then entered the cyclorama to play with time and their traces in/on it.

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For the past few weeks along with other few students I was brainstorming about the term ‘mapping’. After looking at Deleuze’s ideas on maps and mapping as a continuous practice I came to realise that in fact our quotidian practises are all about mapping and embedding ourselves within various maps.

I weave my thoughts within this blog (as of the last weeks of November) in a certain manner, which is different from the practice employed in my previous non-academic blogs. I’ve been treading certain virtual spaces for the past couple of months augmenting my folksonomies, compiling the blogroll and developing new networks. When I talk with my professors I maintain a slightly different lexicon than the one I use with other students of Utrecht University and they do not hear the vocabulary I use with my best friends after a couple of glasses of wine or a few biertjes. Deleuze and Guattari argue¹ that ‘we are composed of lines.<...> They compose us, as they compose our map' (Deleuze&Guattari, 2004: 224). We blend and intersect with new ones on a daily basis. And we emerge out of this matrix.

Consequently I was explaining to a friend of mine the idea of our participation in network culture as a practise of mapping ourselves within them. danah boyd calls it defining ourselves and our context in which we are operating ². The matter is as vast as the virtual web within which we are entangled together. But the more research I did on it, the more discoveries I encountered. In a week or two I'll know if I have to remap my thoughts...

In the meantime - contemplating on Gambling, Gods and LSD - a visual meditation on being I thoroughly enjoyed in IDFA in Amsterdam yesterday.

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1. Deleuze, G. Guattari, F. & Massumi, B. 2004. Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Continuum International Publishing Group.

2. boyd, d. 2006. Friends, Friendsters, and MySpace Top 8: Writing Community Into Being on Social Network Sites. First Monday 11(12), December, p. 7

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I discovered that a handy way to come up with interesting research projects in Media Studies is to look at the commissions on new books, such as the one for a networked book about networked art. Shame that my current observations are a bit of a remix rather than a cohesive theory (give me time...), but some of the concepts and ideas suggested are certainly very helpful. The joy of studying in the third Christian millenia! Looking forward to del.icio.usly wikiread the book.

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Tagcrowd offers an opportunity to turn anything into a tag cloud. Thought to try this out with my first post. I wonder what will it look like in the next couple of months. Few of the ones I'd like to see swelling are media, research, blog, identified.

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Few thoughts cross my mind. Among them questions like where have I been before and in what plateaus have I been treading previously. What have I been doing with the time given to me and what has time produced out of me.

Despite the fact that I only spent a few months in my new Alma Mater yet, I have already discovered myself swamped by the flood of information and the fact that the field I have chosen to study - new media - is so terrifyingly dynamic that it is quite possible I will not necessarily stumble across anything new with my research. Once again I find myself on the first step of the ladder of competence - unconscious of my incompetence and stunned at how much has already been done.

By Lithuanian standards of blogging I am no newbie - I've blogged for over two years and quite successfully some might say: with quite a few 'thank you' letters from across the globe, constant comments, a bit of media coverage, a part time job proposal in the Irish media once I started to blog in English and even my grandma's keenness to purchase online newspapers she heard of writing about her granddaughter - only later on I explained to her that they were online. Oh the vanity of self-ordained fame!

For the past couple of days I have been brainstorming myself for a paper proposal I have to come up with for the course Spatiality/Temporality that would touch upon the aspect of mapping. The ideas are still in the metaphysical stage, but while thinking I realised how much is out there to be discovered and deciphered through the matrix of the hypertext. Moreover, how much has been done already... Last night I came across Danah Boyd's blog , which she started ehem 11 years ago. Christ, where was I then? :)

I was 15 and I didn't have a computer yet. My first encounter with surfing was in a parsonage. :) I remember desperately trying to log on to this new space and after successfully dialling-up with the information abyss I didn't know where to go... One of the first things I did was to set up an email. I chose the domain europe.com. I identified myself with belonging to wider terrains than my minuscule and relatively new country had. In other words, it was the sense of belonging and simultaneously a certain degree of escapism that drew me into the whirlpool of the world wide web. Driven by the same motivation I started my blogs which mainly focused on emigration/immigration issues as I found myself asking why and whether had I become an (im)migrant. As with many endeavours women launch, it was a self-exploration and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Those who might want to know more about the whys can go to my previous English blog emigration-etc where I have spend lots of time and energy on discussing the matter publicly and ultimately identifying myself as a voluntary nomad.

I started this blog with a determination to continue to post my observations about life (a)broad, yet I can't keep up to date those more or less creative cultural rants and ponderings as I find myself immersing into the research subjects of my studies deeper and deeper. On the other hand, they are not that far from exploring certain neverlands and positioning myself within them. I'm particularly interested in networking, social networks, locative media, identity representation, power relations.

I humbly bid a warm farewell to those who discovered the Neverlands as another blog with random tirades on cultural differences and I am grateful for being found and for your kind comments. Cultural differences will always remain there - it took me a few years of living abroad to realise they would never disappear, yet the beauty lies in the diversity of shades. However, from now on I would like to designate this blog for tracing my research and findings within the infinite field of media and us in it, because 'we live in media, as fish live in water'¹ . Recently I have discovered too much exciting new material in order to leave it within the footnotes of my previous musings and I need more logic in organising my folksonomies. I decided to keep the title, because I am still treading the Neverlands - the discourses that are still fresh to me, perhaps vaguely touched upon by my empirical approach yet without definitive conclusions. I'll see where this takes me. You are very welcome aboard. Please comment, suggest, argue and immerse yourselves in other forms of participation. We are all in this together, as Ben Lee sings (a rather cheesy melody, but the message is correct).

PS As for creative content, one day you might encounter it assembled in a book, yet it has to be written first. I might have the first page.

1 Nelson T. (1974) Dream Machines. In N. Wardrip-Fruin and N. Montfort , eds. The new media reader. 2003. Cambridge and London: The MIT Press.

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Thinking of making a few changes, restructuring the content and making the blog more fun - for you to read and me to write. Still exploring the Neverlands, yet the concept might expand. Give me a week or so...

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A quote of the top of my head (getting into the habit of compulsively referencing interesting quotes I come across), but when one looks for a research subject, one should look for questions that trigger, that make one uneasy and pose even more questioning.

It is the approach cultural theorist Stuart Hall proposed and applied half a century ago. When explaining the reasons for the emergence of cultural studies in the UK in the crossroads of 1950s and 1960s, he said what was driving him and other founders of the Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies in Birmingham was the need for an answer what was post-war, post-colonial Britain and what was that umbrella term 'British', under which millions of people were huddling.

Slowly, with some detours, I am threading my thoughts through the hypertext and the dusty corridors of the library which seems to be preoccupied with drilling rather than providing conditions for peaceful scholarship. (Speaking of which - the Neverlanders built the country on the water, but I am not sure why they don't come up with an idea to carry construction works during the night in educational institutions, just like the road workers do, for instance.) On the other hand, scholarship is anything but peaceful and I think this is how we (particularly students) should keep it.

A number of complains have been hovering above Drift in Utrecht lately, where majority of the classes OGC students are enrolled in take place. My naivety that whatever is from the West is innately progressive, thought-provoking and challenging various status quo has been shattered a number of times lately. Juvenile hopes of a girl from European suburbia. However, I am not suggesting the superiority of our Alma Maters - oftentimes they claim profound history, yet they could definitely work on their present. Obviously, over there, in the far East of the Western world, in the plateaus that for decades remained within the footnotes of the former Soviet Union, much is influenced by the factor that is not an issue here, in the Neverlands, at least nowhere as near an issue as it is there. In other words - the finances, that mostly, quite frankly and sadly, are singing romances. But let's leave the East for the meantime and focus on the West.

There have been a number of complaints during the past block among my fellow students and I enjoy the fact that the content and the quality of the studies are open to discussions here - at least there are certain professors who understand that the ultimate threat of education lies in stagnation. Yet these discussions could be much more feisty and I wonder why only a number of students try to stir debates and show the initiative in implementing changes. When a respected professor in front of 60 research master students used the word 'negro' a month ago, nobody questioned her on the usage of the word in the auditorium of one of best European universities. Latter on I found out the professor came from a well-to-do family. She said the 'negro' was her cook. Some professors emphasise we should aim to become public intellectuals, but we don't have the guts to question matters among 50 people or so.

On the other hand, some professors still wonder whether we should aim to become public intellectuals. As a friend of mine said yesterday, here we are discussing epistemologies, while a million of children in Kongo are facing disease, hunger, sexual abuse and recruitment by armed groups.

The owner of a health shop asked me a few days ago whether I will become part of a movement when I finish my media studies. 'What movement?' I asked. He thought I was studying journalism and I tried to explain in plain words that it is not that kind of media I am studying. 'So what can you do afterwards?' A seemingly simple question, yet whenever I face it I think that I probably won't invent the cure for AIDS or cancer and might not produce a very utilitarian scholarship. The more I think of the answer, the more I understand that the question is drilling to the very core of my brain and soul. And I believe this is exactly what we ultimately should engage in - drilling. It is the act that does not and should not have geographical restrictions. Because the West needs it just as much as the East does. Peaceful scholarship doesn't exist.

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Apologies for failing to update the blog on a more regular basis. Don't even have much time to follow other blogs either.

Here's another photo of the city in hope that I will managed to post something more substantial this week.

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I am addressing Americans or anybody who might know any American families living in the Netherlands, as a friend of mine who also studies in University Utrecht and a group of American producers are working on an American sexual health documentary entitled LET'S TALK ABOUT SEX.

A brief description that my friend Lisa kindly provided can be found below. For more information about the film and producers, a pdf can be provided for those seriously interested.

The documentary is an educational film being done in partnership with Advocates For Youth, a well respected non for profit organization and Lisa's former employer. The goal is to begin filming on or around November ( 20th - 24th). In order to do so, we need several American families living here in The Netherlands. The ideal candidates would have children in their teens. We would shoot each family for one day.

Please let us know of any anyone who might fit this criteria (American family living abroad with teenagers) and/or be interested in helping with this project.

You can either post any hints you might have in the comments bellow or send an email to either Lisa (lirebert[at]gmail[dot]com) or me (lina[dot]zigelyte[at]gmail[dot]com)

---------------------------------------

LET'S TALK ABOUT SEX is a feature length documentary which takes a fresh, raw, and confronting look at attitudes towards sex and sexuality among America's youth. Character driven, the film profiles a group of young Americans who have been directly affected by the current situation up close and personal. Our teens are powerful advocates for change, interacting with the real world through situations that have directly impacted their lives.

LET'S TALK ABOUT SEX is traveling to the Netherlands, profiling an American family living amongst a culture that treats sex as a health issue versus a moral issue. Access to birth control, the near absence of teen pregnancies, and the accepted sexually active teen "sleepover" are all highlighted in stark contrasts between the two countries.

In the way that AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH brought attention to a life-threatening crisis, LET?S TALK ABOUT SEX exposes a painful and expensive problem. A non-commercial educational film, produced in association with Advocates for Youth, the leading youth rights organization working with adolescent sexuality issues in America, the film offers real solutions. An extensive educational outreach and safe sex advertising campaign is being developed to coincide with the release of the film.

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Another day in Utrecht with a bit of rain and seemingly never ending autumnal moods. And another picture from the top of the Dom. I was told they rent it now and again. If the Dutch lived in Vatican, they would rent that as well I think. :)

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Since I have a paper draft due this Thursday my contribution to the blog until then will be visual. After climbing the Dom Tower today I made a few pictures, here's one of them. Utrecht looks amazing from bird's eye view. Shame my eye view here is mostly as low as frogs. :)

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There's another half an hour left to blog about poverty and to join the forces with the rest of the bloggers participating in this campaign.

Talking about poverty in the Neverlands is different. The way I see it here is dissimilar to the other countries I have lived in - Lithuania and Ireland (I suppose I could include the USA where I spent half of the year). In a nutshell, I don't see it here. Magnum photographer Geert van Kesteren says that "<...>poverty in the Netherlands is different than in the developing world. It's invisible. In my previous blog which I was writing while living in Dublin (many of the topics were focused on the binary East-West, in which I sometimes found myself trapped) a few times I posted my remarks on begging (here and here). I noted that the amount of people begging on the streets of Dublin was disgraceful, especially Ireland being (or having become) one of the most prosperous countries in the EU and the world. I questioned an idea that perhaps despite the job market offering vast opportunities (and the minimum wage being one of the highest in the EU) those people (mostly younger than 40, oftentimes male) where in the streets by choice rather than driven by the need (given the fact that the Irish social system is quite generous and quite easily fooled - an issue I addressed in my posts more than a few times).

The Neverlands is a rich country. Ha's Blog backs my statement, even though he notes that in the face of decent figures the Dutch still manage to complain.

When I say that I don't see poverty here I mean that, for instance, I don't see people begging on the streets. But here I'm reminded of the case with disabled and mentally ill people in the former Soviet Union - you didn't encounter them too much, in fact they didn't exist (they were spending the days either in hospitals or other secluded places). In this respect I am asking two questions:

1. Are the Dutch coping with poverty much better than, let's say, Ireland and the rest of the world could take that as an example?
or
2. Perhaps Geert van Kesteren is right when saying that poverty here is invisible, or shall I say hidden?

It is an open question I can not answer due the fact that I have haven't spent enough time here, besides, much of it is spend in the academic environment, which I must say, the more time I spend there the more it seems auratic and elitist (are these the features of the education by default?). That's what my next post will be about.

In the meantime I am asking - how come I do not see poverty in the Neverlands?

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I come from a country where agriculture has been one of the main industries for quite a while (too long a while in my opinion - no wonder the Estonians are taking the world by storm - sugar beet and cabbage had their requiem performed to them a while a go and the midget of the Northern East is aiming to be one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world, quite successfully we should note). Anything to do with vegetables can hardly surprise me. I've done it all: picking mushrooms in the deepest woods, simmering a giant pot with raspberries and sugar in order to make a few jars of homemade jam from the berries you've just brought from the forest, helping dad to grate 15 kilos of cabbage to produce homemade saukerkraut, drinking birch sap , just name it. Wicked pagan rights, you might say? So be it. In my modest opinion, the nature-culture bond we have (especially in the suburban areas of my country and the bond we are unfortunately loosing) is one of the quintessential features inherent in our suburbian character. After all, ours was the last bastion of paganism to surrender to the Holy Roman Empire. Just about in the middle of the second Christian millennium that is - 1387.

Arriving here from Ireland - post-agricultural-turned-the-haven-of-high-companies-island - was a pleasant change in terms of the variety of food available. Vegetables in the Emerald Island? Think the Irish flag. Green for broccoli, white for cauliflower, orange for carrots (accompanied by a decent handful of potatoes of course).

Another trip to the local supermarket and I have to take my hat off for the inventiveness in the Neverlands. Beetroot with pears and cinnamon! Lekker!

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So. While the world was waiting for Madame Lipstick (check out the link) to get on the stage and CNN guys where engaged in almost sci-fi-like preparations for the broadcast of the debate I found myself flicking through the channels of Dutch TV. Now, my American housemate told me that night time TV in the Neverlands is quite different from the American. I've noticed some dissimilarities already. Prime time (unless prime time in the Neverlands is considered differently to the rest of the world): Little House in the Prairie and Married With Children. Hello?! Oh, and TV shops - those seem to be of particular popularity.

But when it comes to after midnight.... Boy it is different from other countries! I must say in the majority of the world people pay quite a bit of money to see such a degree of raunchiness. I'm not sure how much my landlord is paying for the TV licence and how the system works in the Neverlands as my rent is all inclusive, but even with people warning me about late time TV I was blown away. EVERY SINGLE DUTCH CHANNEL. Moaning and sighing. Aagh... Call this text that. Topless body painting. Aagh... Stroking and touching. Solo, duo, you name it. Kinky underwear (if any!) and LOTS of breasts. Any size you might wish. L XL XXL XXXL and Jumbo. Just make sure you hurry up and don't miss the numbers. Oh, and lot's of lipstick... Speaking of which, I found the debate exceptionally fascinating to watch. Yet even if almost everybody admits that she succeeded and exceeded the expectations, I have to repeat a comment I found on You Tube: If Americans vote for McCain they will prove they don't care about their country.

In the meantime...
I suggest to play a supercool game I found on here and located on the left hand site of my blog. It won't be kept here for too long as the music gets quite annoying after a while (like the character herself I suppose with her tune of hockey moms and mavericks). I just sincerely hope Madame Lipstick stays where she currently is - in the blogosphere rather than in the White House.

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The subject had to come up and I suppose if you haven't thought of it and discussed it after a few biertjes with a few other outlanders, you haven't faced the Neverlands as it is. It is in the breeze, mixed with yet another puff of ganja, in the bars, in the cobbled streets of Utrecht, in university halls, in fact it is so inextricable from anything to do with the Neverlands and most of all with the people of this fascinating country that it is devilishly tempting to start a blog unnatural carnal knowledge. But then I think it might be much better if it was anonymous (ah, the joys of unrestrained expression!), yet with this being a small town the anonymity probably wouldn't last long, hence I'm sticking to the current title.

Anyway, it's been almost a month since I arrived to the Neverlands and I still can't believe how GAY it is here. And how gay they and they are here. In fact the gayness of the Neverlands and Neverlanders is so immense one genuinely starts questioning am I gay or maybe I should be? Actually, if things go as they do now, with fraternity boys and their look-alikes dominating night life horizon and the less visible rest falling somewhere in between the categories Narcissus and Cute but Shy things can evolve God knows where. Yet this (so I heard) being one of the most secular countries in the world and with the possibility of the Almighty having little interest in our businesses here being high, He mightn't know.

I must say the boys are very shy here. A Swedish girl told me she found them very cute, better than the Swedish. Besides, they have manners, she said. Yet oftentimes I find the boys in the Neverlands a bit like paintings: nice to look at, but that's as far as it goes. You can't hug a painting. And even if you manage to, a painting can't hug you. They're in their Ivory Towers. Inaccessable. Gesloten.

Now in my modest opinion part of the problem lies in the fact that women in the Neverlands are very strong. Strong in all senses. As I was told, they have to be - they're always on the bike and they have two children whom they must carry on that bike. And they like to have the control in their hands. Shopping for groceries in Dublin. You swing through the aisles of Tesco or Super Value, fill the basket, wait in the line, if you have forgotten to weight the courgettes you apologise, get them weighted by the shop assistant or weight them yourself, pay and go. Shopping for groceries in the Neverlands. You swing through the aisles of Albert Heijne or Aldi or Plus, fill the basket, after realising that the line is gesloten the mevrouw standing next to you bosses you into another queue, before you place the courgettes on the counter another mevrouw points out that you have forgotten to weight them, you go back, weigh them, go back wondering if there's something else you have overlooked of which another mevrouw might remind, but this time you are fine, you pay and go. It is quite clear who's wearing the pants in this country and in this respect the inhibitions of the local boys could be understood.

Now besides being strong I must say many of the women here seem to be hot. Maybe it's the kind of rain that showers the Low Lands, yet even if before one seemed to be quite indifferent to them or possibly mildly interested in a curious way, but only after a few (a good few, a very good few) drinks, one can quite easily fall for one here. Or two for that matter. True, some of them are waving the banners of gayness high. They are a bit like sirens. Danger. Enter at your own risk. They have discovered their identity (which is fantastic). And they want to make sure everybody around is aware of that. But there is this other category - and that's where it gets menacingly interesting. They examine you with their blue or green Neverlandish eyes. As if quietly lurking. There's something in their posture. They might be a bit tomboyish, but not necessarily. Their sexuality doesn't have to be squeezed in the jeans, they might even wear a skirt. But it's that look! I hear the gaydar ticking. Tick tick tick. The ones spending another evening in their Ivory Towers remain there silently, the heavily gelled guys seem to have disappeared from the horizon and I find myself looking for Ariadne to get me out of this maze as discussed before, but she seems to be running late and I find myself lost in the Neverlands. Which way?

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On a day like this staying sober should be considered a cardinal sin. Hence I popped in to a neighbouring off-licence, which at first glance seemed to offer a wider range of wines than the supermarkets in the Neverlands. I haven't explored Albert Heijn top shelves yet, but it seems that it is hard to find something moderately better than plonk - haven't noticed too many bottles for around 10 Euro and when the ones for 4 are actually quite good I was hoping to get some bargains, alas...

So the local one had a nice selection of beers (I have a bit of a soft spot for the Belgian ones), but in terms of wines the selection was rather meagre apart from a few Italian and Spanish reds (the selection of whites seemed neglected) there were the usual few expensive Chablis and Sancerres (same 12-15 Euro like in Dublin) and a few odd bottles of Aussie reds. Come on! And when I asked if they had any Kiwi wines the response was "No, just a few Australian". My my my... Just because the two countries are quite close doesn't make their wines the same. That's a rant from somebody who used to be part of "Oddbins" for about 3 years (perhaps a bit two long, but enough to know my way around in the terroirs of oenology). Once I learn a bit more than de rekening, alstublief and dank u wel I might have to cash in on those crumbles of knowledge as I will have to look for a job in the Neverlands, unless I am lucky to become a research assistant of some professor - a (rather well paid) job that is not that easy to get though. But think - besides the required bibliographies, copy making and other usual errands I could suggest wines for academic lunches! Sipping a refreshingly crisp Marlborough Sauvignon or a seductive Greco di Tufo and discourse Deleuze. A lip smacking delight! (Every single professor seems to be mentioning him and after reading a a few essays from his Desert Islands and Other texts I am starting to understand why.) Actually, discourse matching could become a totally new field in oenology.

Anyway, so I stocked up on some beers (since they are much cheaper than wine and VERY cheap compared to the country of Guinness).



A rough comparison:

Leffe Brune - 0.9 Euro vs 2.19
Hoegaarden - 0.59 vs 2.19
Westmalle Dubbel - 0.89 vs (haven't seen that one in the shops, but would probably round 2.50 and about 6 Euro/btl in one of the few international beer bars Porterhouse). Ouch!

Now I have to hunt down some glasses. Any suggestions apart from a stroll through the city centre at around 1 am? :)

PS Statiegeld - is that tax? Which is actually not included in the price, just checked the receipt. And does it only apply to booze? Even so - the prices still are unbelievably Neverlandish.

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So. The magic on line alarm didn't work (I presume because the laptop went to sleep, yet isn't this what the alarms are for?..), but I managed to wake up on time due to the panic of my biological clock.

As promised previously in Some Like it Koud I would like to post a few thoughts on a program I watched a few weeks ago on the TV here in the Neverlands.



One might think at first that a program like this could only be possible in the Neverlands. That's what myself thought. Yet I was quite surprised by the fact that at first this documentary The Virgin School was actually shown on the UK's Channel 4 last May. Talk about British conservatism.

Yet on the other hand I am quite convinced that Aquarion - the school for love and leadership as the founders call it (although I don't remember any references to the 'leadership' in the actual documentary) - could only be possibly founded in the Neverlands. While we should give the credit to the 26-year-old virgin hero James (and the lucky hero I would say - with Bridget and the salt, the snake, the touching, the Tibetan bowls, the massage... no wonder majority of the clients wait for The moment until their third or fourth session ), I was fascinated by the women who run the venture. Pricey women. A quick look on the English version of the website of Aquarion and we find out that sex coaching is only possible after "an intake", which is 2 hours (whether personal or written+phonecall: € 220). Personal, tele- and mailcoaching will cost € 575 (which is 5 hours of mental coaching on love or the absence of it with expected homework). Subscription into a personal and tailor made Sex Course lifts the bar - € 1.000. The course itself is € 3.500 - € 4.000, with travel and stay expenses not included. And when a visit to the Neverlands is not possible or wanted, coaching conversations about sexual problems or a dull relationship can be arranged at a total of € 120 per hour with a minimum of 3 conversations. By the way, the price list on the Dutch version of the website was quite different, again I don't understand much, but that's how it stands:

Het standaardbedrag voor het 10 uur durende persoonlijke liefdescoachingstraject is  € 900,-. Mensen met een meer dan dubbel modaal inkomen en/of een flink eigen vermogen, betalen € 250,- meer; zij ontvangen een dan wat intensere begeleiding.

Actually, it seems that there is no Sex Coaching for the Neverlanders. SexCoaching valt niet onder het aanbod. This is the only sentence on the Dutch version where sex coaching is mentioned. I understand it means 'sex coaching is not on offer'? Talk about leadership? The women definitely seem to know how to do business.

I'm sure the lucky hero got all for free (sadly, the school is quite expensive, I actually think some lessons could possibly be useful to quite a few boys out there, let's say, the visual ones about the utmost secret places). But besides making money - why do those seemingly warm middle age Venuses are engaging in this sort of enterprise? Two out of three of them admitted that their first times were not great (let's admit - they're not so sugary sweet mostly, rarely there are candles and they are not accompanied by violin or flute sounds). Are they being good samaritans? Revolutionising by devirginasing? Having a lost mother-son conversation with explicit illustrations? Celebrating their withering bodies? Love and leadership they say? I couldn't feel much love there. As for the leadership... sex is definitely about power (even though the documentary seemed to neglect the leadership element). Whichever the boy (he came as a boy to the Neverlands and I still saw a boy James when he left Aquarion, even though without the 'virgin' label) learned, he said he didn't have sex after the documentary was shown and was still looking for love. In the meantime I suppose the troika of Aquarion were looking for more of the likes of James who could be drawn to this gateway out of virginity. What I'm waiting for now is for somebody in the Neverlands to start a school like this targeting the female audience. And that would deserve Donna Haraway's or Judith Butler's scrutiny, not just my modest footnotes.

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I don't loose things often. Only sometimes. Mostly when I am having good time though. Tonight's nightcanoeing session with International exchange student network along the canals of Utrecht with quite a few ducks, geese, zigzags and little progress ended up with me loosing the mobile. This happened to be the only device I had with an alarm clock (tried Ipod's - it's too delicate, I'm quite a heavy sleeper I must say and when it comes to getting up I need artillery sounds). So after looking up on line for a while I came across an online alarm. A rather annoying buzz, but hey - I don't need a lullaby...

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As a student I am concerned: is there a clothing retailer in the Neverlands doing business along the lines of the Irish phenomena Penney's aka Primark in the UK? Basically, is there anything cheaper than H&M and still funky?


Penney's bag

For those of you who might not be familiar - Penney's has become the Klondike of cheap clothing, shoes and accessories in Ireland. Jackets for 15 Euro, pants for 12, bras for next to nothing. Of course, it's no Prada or Gabbana, the fabrics might not be the best, but the clothes are very colourful, funky and hip. Any hints?

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They looked almost indistinguishably alike. Almost. Tall, well-built and muscular. Typical Neverlanders. So without paying too much attention I entered the door on the right hand-side only to find the place quite crammed with blokes on my way back. It's happened to me before. I think I might update my profile. Enjoys exploring male toilets. You must consider the fact I am myopic, yet the amount of times it has happened to me in the Neverlands is worrying. On the other hand, that particular time the only tiny (mind you, really tiny) difference was swinging somewhere around the hips while the towers, to quote Solomon, were not towering at all. So could I be blamed?

I'm quite convinced the Neverlanders do this on purpose - in order to confuse those who cross the perimeter of their country. I understand that the boundaries between sexes and all things gender here seem to be melting away sooner than anywhere else (while the Arctic Age of all things LGBTTQ in the suburbia I come from will probably never end), but I just want to find the right door next time. What happened to the old triangles?

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Another wet day in Utrecht... How naive of me was to think I left the rain behind as the plane Dublin-Amsterdam took off a few weeks ago... My brand new screamingly yellow poncho is looking forward to be worn again while I'm pondering how long will it take for the bike to get all rusty if the weather stays like this.

The lack of posting is due to the fact that the past week has become a roller coaster of experiences and various thoughts that seemed to flicker through my head without any particular order - some of them resulting in an overwhelming joy of being right here at this particular moment, others making me reassess the past and the future. The following thoughts in a way are influenced by a few glasses of outrageously inexpensive and incredibly decent red from Buzet (4 Euro a bottle - this will make my vino friends in Dublin cry) which was purchased as a consolation after riding the bike in the pouring rain to the majestic Utrecth University library. It is majestic indeed even though I haven't made it to the top floor yet.

The Neverlands continue to dazzle me and one can only wonder how long this euphoria will last. Even though I'm trying to not overmythologise the place and the people I must say that everything has lived up to my expectations so far - the town, the amount of Belgian beers available, the people, my biking experiences, the university, the students, you name it. Some blogger described this as a country where nobody is ever angry. I must say it seems to be true. Even when I nearly bumped into another of those unthinkably tall cycling Dutchmans today. All he said was something along the lines of an enthusiastic ooaaop! And off he went.

On the other hand after meeting quite a few people from other countries during the past two weeks I can't help but feel an indescribable temptation to compare myself with others who have found themselves in the Neverlands. I guess it is part of our nature. Or is it just my nature stemming from the unknown suburbia of Europe roaming the Neverlands? Even though comparisons do not necessarily do us good, recent chats, coffee breaks and biertjes made me come to a few conclusions:

* I must definitely learn another Western European language (besides the Dutch) as my ancient lingua spoken by about 3 mln people is quite useless. Watching Belgians chatting away in French, then switching to German, then Dutch and back to English is simply incredible (and useful - do I even have to mention that?).

* I should read more and I must say that organising the time independently is quite a different experience. Waiting for a batch from UK's Amazon (thanks to the weak pound it seems to be one of the cheapest places to purchase books): this and this and a few more. Books in the Neverlands are unbelievably expensive!

* I should cut down on the amount of sarcastic jokes I'm using and should watch out what I'm saying in general more (a resolution at which majority of my friends would probably laugh - I wouldn't be me otherwise).

* Finally, I suppose I should stop comparing myself to the other residents of the Neverlands, perhaps quietly watch them instead and simply enjoy life regardless of my nature and theirs. I can't escape my own shadow I guess.

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Lepelenburg. After the rain.

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Do not joke with the Swedes about the fact that the most spectacular scenery in the Scandinavian peninsula starts exactly were the border parts their country with Norway, yet leaving the latter with the best. Politely nod the head when somebody tells they come from a country of which you know little or nothing. Stop saying "fair play" - nobody apart the Irish seems to understand what play and why fair. Do go to all drinks possible - on the first week many of them are free, if you're lucky you can even nick a bottle of Chilean Merlot and even if the night ends up in the most godforsaken place I've seen in Utrech so far the guys you were having drinks with yesterday will keep you company while you watch the members of the local fraternity club sporting their, as a German girl put it, Ralph Lauren shirts and heavily overgelled hair. They like their gel in the Neverlands.

Everything is almost like in ""L'Auberge Espagnole"". A brainstorm of faces, names, countries, languages, accents and subjects of study. And lots of hair gel.

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My friends are asking for pictures, so this is it, I'm launching a series of postcards from Utrecht.

Since I haven't met many people in person yet (only exchange a few sheepish smiles with fellow students from other programmes), I've been taking pictures of strangers and objects that don't talk: statues, houses and canals. Hopefully this will change soon.

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Cycling in the Neverlands! I'm not raising ideological flags, but the feeling when everybody stops - the cars, the pedestrians, the trucks, the busses - is a blessing to anybody who comes here from abroad and mounts their bikes. After a few days of unconscious halting whenever somebody was approaching the path I was cycling on I finally discovered that when in the Neverlands, the cyclist is the king. Long live us! And on we ride...

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I was learning English as the first foreign language as of the age of 9 in my hometown Vilnius (first sentences being Hello my name is Dick and I take a rubber to school), but before that by watching the adaptation of the immortal classics of Ilf and Petrov at home on black and white screen I cracked русский язык (the year I started the school was the first the kids didn't have to learn it, thus I never mastered the handwriting and my typing in Russian is very sloooooow) although currently English words spring to my mind much faster than Russian. Then about six years of German as the second language at school (with little success as the teacher aus Deutschland was speaking better English than anybody else among the teachers), followed with Norwegian for a year in the uni (with even less success because of a similar reason, but enough to read the signs in Bergen) and French for three months - I opted for the course instead of getting a driver's license (as a result I was hitching in Minervois and my Je suis Lituanien mais j'habite au Irlande was enough to get by).

So when it comes to Dutch, I'm afraid it becomes a bit of a cross-cultural cacophony. Jeg heiße Lina. Ik spreak geen Nederlands, mais ik will studie. Wawawiwa!

On a more serious note, after discovering International Neighbour Group in my new alma mater I registered for a Dutch course there which is being introduced as informal and seems to be reasonably priced (at 25 Euro per semester plus 20 Euro for books) and starts in the end of September. Can't wait.



Chilling out: pinholed coffee break in Utrecht

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When in Rome... as they say. Got my bike, trying to murmur alstublieft wherever I turn and when I’m not sure whether the bike track becomes one way I follow the person in front of me. Sometimes this results in quite a few detours, but this is how I begin my life in the Neverlands: stupidly smiling to the questions I do not understand in the shop and constantly navigating myself: look left look right look left look right. It can be quite hard after spending three and a half years in Ireland where it was mainly right left and jaywalking as the roads in central Dublin are mainly one way. Jaywalking in Utrecht? Forget it! You’ll get knocked down, most probably by a bike. By the way, what happens when a cyclists crashes into another colleague during the rush hour on one of the main junctions? That was a nasty thought that crossed my mind as I was watching the caravan of bikes moving steadily along the streets of Utrecht today.

In terms of language problems, despite the fact that everybody speaks English here I feel terribly uncomfortable not knowing Dutch and I can’t help but think about Dublin.

After googling yesterday for a while trying to find other blogs about the Neverlands (a few of the discoveries are on your left hand site) I realized that every single of them seems to be mentioning the pivotal question: to learn or not to learn. Majority of them I have to say are in favour of learning, with a few very educational ones, i.e. Dutch word of the day. A similar blog in Lithuanian and Polish in particular is desperately needed in Ireland. While the expats are thinking about the necessity of learning the Dutch, the tragedy of many Eastern Europeans and much of misunderstanding happening between them and the Irish is that they do not even question the necessity to learn English but in the meantime whinge about the Irish round the clock.

Now the problem when you agree that you need to learn the Dutch, is how… ☺

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Utrecht pinholed

I did this mistake about a month ago upon my first visit to Utrecht and I did it again today. That is if you come to the Neverlands on Sunday make sure to bring some food supplies with you since the supermarkets are gesloten. Closed. Full stop. Adios amigos - hasta mañana!

So here I am with my 35 kilos of life unpacked in my bright and spacious new room which will be my home for the moment munching a bowl of tuna and sweet corn salad which in fact is just the two aforementioned items mixed sans olive oil or mayonaise and sadly sipping on orange juice (instead of 70 cent a bottle of Hoegaarden - compare that with 2.20 Euro in Dublin) which turned out to be out of date (tuna, sweet corn and juice successfully (?) spotted in one of the local let's call it Spars aka shops that sell lots of overpriced crap while the supermarkets are closed). I can sincerely confess that this was one of the few times in my life when I actually was regretting there was no Spar around. If I don't die of hunger overnight my number one destination tomorrow morning is a supermarket. Number two - a bike shop. I feel as I am the only pedestrian in here. What a looser... Especially in 26 degrees!

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I told to a new acquaintance of mine that it seemed like nobody was working in Utrecht. They just sip beer or coffee in the outdoor cafes and ride the bikes or drift downstream in their canoes.

By the way, coffee is very good in Utrecht. And you get a biscuit!

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Went to the park yesterday to kill some time. As I was walking into the shadow of a chestnut tree a cock walked right into me. Two of them, actually. I haven't seen one for a long time. Some cultures believe a cock is a symbol of luck, while others are convinced this is the symbol of the devil and all things satanic and the only thing that can save you if you are facing one is a rake . Those two guys were sporting crimson combs and colourful attire and I had no rake. Then I saw a peacock, the family of Bambis, a bunch of parrots, ducks, geese and I felt like Noah about to board the boat before the flood and save the world. I didn't save anybody. But I got a room after the encounter - so it must be a symbol of luck. Worked for me.

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There hostels were people stay and there are those were travellers and backpackers live. Hostel Utrecht happens to be the latter one. Some stay because they get trapped (or lost shall I call it?) in the Neverlands.

There is a sweet Finnish boy who gets all excited just by the mention of the magic words pot, weed, chocolate you name it.

Then there is a talented American guy who despite speaking Dutch and Spanish (haven't heard other, but it is possible) actually works for a bed and food. Previously he was living in Yemen, but once the civil war started his family and friends asked him to leave. He says despite the war and the news he felt safe there and made many friends. I was trying to convince him that 400 Euro for a room is reasonable (anything will be reasonable after Dublin to me) and he told me he used to pay 80 Euro for a house in Yemen. I encouraged him to look for something in Amsterdam, but it is his life after all and his decisions.

There is Spanish looking guy who sleeps in the bed below me and that's exactly what he seems to be doing all the time - sleeping. Maybe he is waiting for a princess to wake him up. But how can you sleep all day long when it is 28 degrees?

And there are hordes of other all kind of people, who regardless of the filthy state of the hostel and intimate 16-bed dorms are here to explore the Neverlands. Until today I thought I might have to volunteer in exchange for the bed and food as well, but luckily I met a fantastic landlord Sjon and I have a place to live! Yey!!!

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It is ROASTING.

Sitting on your own in a park with a wok to go in a paper bag is a bit depressing.

On the happy note - getting a lift from one of the guys whose place I was viewing today on the bike was what's that Dutch word - gesellig?

An observation: there are no Spars in Utrecht. Which has its pros and cons. Pros: I prefer small local merchants than gargantual brands. Cons: getting a bottle of water at around 8pm on a Sunday evening seemed to be impossible. Fortunatelly, came across a few hot (as seems to become the rule in the Neverlands - no wonder that's the title of the country) guys sitting on the steps of a wine shop who were kind enough to give me a bottle of wine filled with tap water. Bless your souls!

Didn't succeed with one casting, another one is tomorrow. If the one tomorrow doesn't work out, it is possible I might have to live in Maarssen for half a year - the landloard is a bubbley Spanish guy. If I cycle to Maarssen and back to Utrecht five days a week, I could be fit to participate in the next year's Giro d'Italia.

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A friend of mine ensured me that I would love living in the Netherlands.

Arrived here safe and sound and I am enjoying the town already. Enjoyment might be a bit too big a word - after spending half a day in Utrecht I'm still recovering from 6am flight to Schiphol. Not doing anything crazy or mad, just getting the things up and running: the mobile number, Lonely Planet's Dutch conversation guide (and learning to pronounce that kh), flip flops (it's roasting here!),etc. People are very helpful, the hostel is not exactly the tidiest one I have seen, but there's beer, tea, coffee and breakfast. Staying with another 15 people in the dorm. Actually people seem to be communicatng within the groups they have arrived in rather than getting in touch with strangers, but maybe it's me scaring them off. Probably.

Seeing a few apartments tomorrow, fingers crossed. The town looks fantastic - the buildings, the people, everything. Unlike the Irish it seems that the Dutch know how to have fun without getting pissed and without pulling huge shopping bags with them around the city. I might be wrong as well - false first impressions perhaps, yet I am very and it is hard to believe I am moving to the Neverlands.

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A friend of mine thinks that "The Netherlands" is a euphemism for "Denmark". It doesn't really sound like the name of the country, does it? Besides, for most of the foreigners it does seem somewhat surreal: they smoke dope without the fear of getting caught and one of the main attractions of the capital is a Red Light District, where again everybody can wander and wonder without the fear of getting caught. Overall it sounds like the ultimate island of liberty. Hence the title of the blog.

My experiences of the past few days only serve as a proof that it will not be as easy as I was expecting.

Starting my Master's studies in Utrecht in September, moving from Dublin. The International Admissions Office is on holidays. Just in time I'd say - when everybody is looking for accommodation. So do I. Thus I'm coming accommodation-hunting for a few days in the end of July.

Charming 26-year-old.
Female.
Enjoys W.Wender's movies, N.Simone and a peace of mind now and again.
Has a soft spot for lomography.
Loves big Aussie reds.
A night owl rather than an early bird.
Currently reads U.Eco's "Foucault's Pendulum" and ponders whether to finish A. Burgess' "Clockwork Orange".
Pays on time, cooks well and to her knowledge doesn't snore.
Has reservations about the success of this ad (in the accommodation hunting department).

For any questions please contact me at lina[dot]zigelyte[at]gmail[dot]com

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