Due to the hide and seek of the male race gay spells are foreseen

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

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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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Let them drink beer!

Friday, September 26, 2008

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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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An expensive troika and a curious virgin. Notes on "Virgin School"

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

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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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Lots of fun and some damage - night canoeing

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

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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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Cheap, cheaper, the cheapest - where to shop for clotes?

Friday, September 19, 2008

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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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Lina

Waar is het toilet?

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

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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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A few resolutions summed up by the final one - watch&learn

Saturday, September 13, 2008

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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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Postcards from Utrecht: #2

Monday, September 08, 2008

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Lepelenburg. After the rain.
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Lina

,

Learning the dos and the don'ts

Sunday, September 07, 2008

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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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Postcards from Utrecht: #1

Thursday, September 04, 2008

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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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Lina

Long live cyclists!

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

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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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Jamming around the Babel tower: lingua cacophonica

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

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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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... as the Romans do

Monday, September 01, 2008

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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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