Remembrance Day

The bells tolled and echoed. And the square suddenly fell silent. A solemn silence, the kind that you dare not breathe in, for you fear that the breath would shatter that sound of nothing.

We stood still.
Tens of thousands of us.
Gathered together on Dam.
To remember.

The wind played with the flags, making them flutter. The red-white-blue at half mast flew above my head, dancing in the wind. It's movement were so random, so free, so natural. I closed my eyes and the image of the flag flying so freely stayed with me. The price of that freedom is invaluable.

May there be peace... May there be hope... May there be freedom... May there be freedom from fear...



In my mind there were flashbacks of pictures, movies, black and white documentaries of brave souls who have moved on, into a braver world beyond this one. They collided with the sounds and images embedded in our TV screens and the front pages. The bloodshed... the cries... the suffering... the nightmares... Wearing such a clean and white shirt suddenly filled me with guilt.

Just as suddenly as silence fell, music rose from the military band. A familiar tune, and in that moment I shivered slightly, making me wonder whether it was the evening breeze, or the rhythm of the national anthem that had such an emotional effect on me. All around me was a low murmur, as people softly sang.

... den vaderland getrouwe blijf ik tot in de dood. Een Prinse van Oranje...

Befitting to the atmosphere, it suddenly became colder. The sun had set behind the Royal Palace, casting a long shadow looming over our heads. The breeze caressed our cheeks, and the mood felt so familiar, but at the same time, seemed so very distant. The white marble National Monument looked soiled, covered in grime and soot, while the carvings of men and women who have just broken their shackles seemed somewhat faded, and eroded with the passage of time. What is normally a touristic photo-op donned on a more solemn meaning.



Wreaths of flowers were laid before the monument, by the Queen and the Crown Prince, by veterans, by the Prime Minister, Ministers. Sixty-two children (one for each year since the end of the war) also quietly laid red and white flowers to rest at the steps of the monument. To the unknown many who so senselessly died in Europe and in Asia... For the first time in history, young veterans, some perhaps just a few years older than me, were able to sit together with the older ones. The world war may have ended, but conflicts still continue to brew, and the Dutch are involved in various 'peace-keeping' missions around the world. In everyone's eyes was an unspoken grief.



I stood there and watched the crowd slowly disperse. One moment the square was full, the next it was almost empty. I pulled on my jacket to keep warm, only to realise elsewhere it was even colder.

Asparagus

- "Do you like asparagus?"

I looked at him, standing a few steps behind me at the supermarket check-out. He pointed to the packet of white asparagus that inched slowly forward on the conveyor belt.

"No, not really. Shame I guess."

- "It's a really good vegetable. I love it." He was around my height, wearing a dark brown sued jacket, and blue jeans. "It's great they're out again."

"Well, I don't like the fibery feeling. But it's alright, I guess. Not that I'd buy it for the sake of buying it."

I slowly put the other groceries into my bag, careful to leave the packet of asparagus until last. It felt a little awkward that what was in my shopping basket had become the object of a random conversation.

- "You have to peel it. And usually I boil it a few minutes first, and then it's ready. You can do a lot with asparagus". The guy got so excited for some reason, and I wondered why... what's so exciting about asparagus?

"Maybe that's why I don't like it. Didn't know you had to peel it."

- "Of course you have to peel it. The skin's pretty rough. Once you peel it, the 'meat' underneath is really tangy. And so delicious!" Are the packets of chocolate-chip cookies, chips and mushrooms less interesting? I had to restrain myself from laughing.

"Maybe I should try it your way then."

- "Yeah, do that. It's asparagus season, and they're fresh and cheap. Lots to eat. I just can't get enough." He smiled, and looked interested.

"Sure... I'll just do that. Maybe I'll change my mind and start liking asparagus."

I looked at the packet of asparagus, and suddenly they looked different. No longer the discounted item I had wanted to buy since seeing that commercial on TV, but... different. As if they were more than just vegetables.

- "I'm sure you will. It's really such a wonderful vegetable. So much nutrients. Especially the green ones. I know these are white, but green ones are best. They're thinner too. And much chewier." The excitement still lingered, and the more he talked, the more excited he seemed to get.

"OK... I'll be sure to try those too. Bye."

I finally picked up my packet of asparagus, and put them gently into my bag. The girl who had just been 'harassed' by this random asparagus-guy hurriedly made her way toward the exit. I stood there for a few moments, and replayed the whole event in my head, trying to search for some kind of 'meaning' behind the whole conversation.

Asparagus... asparagus... it was all just about asparagus! The asparagus that I bought which somehow, in a bizzare and surreal way, became the 'binding' factor between strangers.

Outside, brown and white confetti fell and flew from the trees.

Lazy days

Not sure why, but suddenly have become so tired...

Went to bed 'early' last night, at around eleven, and got up to go to school. Had an appointment with my thesis supervisor, which went pretty well. He's really nice, and we sat down together for half an hour to go through my ideas. Even before I arrived, he had already jotted down lots of useful notes on my proposal, and given me a list of literature I to look at. My topic, on the values of the (so-called) international community, appears to be related to the PhD thesis he's working on, so he really seems to be the right person to be supervising it.

My basic ideas are to question whether there is such a thing as 'international community' in reality... and if there is, what the the values of this community are. There's so much talk and use of the term, and some legal terminology refer to the 'international community', but what is this community composed of? States alone, or something more encompassing, like individuals, NGOs, TNCs? Especially on human rights, we hear a lot about how the "international community" views them as a common fundamental value, and has time and again repeated the commitment to protect human rights for the sake of defending this "international community". But is this mere rhetoric, or something grounded in law as well as reality?

Anyways, perhaps it's because of these mind-boggling ideas, afterwards I felt so exhausted. Sat in the library for a few hours, but didn't get any work done at all. The sunny weather outside didn't help, and my mind kept on wanting to go out. So I did.


I made my way home slowly, even managing to doze on the short fifteen minute train journey. Once I got home, around 4pm or so, I collapsed into bed. Had set my alarm for around 5, but everytime it ran, I pressed snooze, snooze, snooze...

It was one of those sleeps you keep on waking up from, and then fall half asleep, only to wake up in what feels like only moments later, when an hour or so had in fact passed. Usually I have the radio on when I take a little nap in the afternoon, and between periods of half-sleep and awakedness I'd hear bits and pieces of the latest news... Israeli prime minister Olmert refusing to step down... Polish workers 'flooding' into the Netherlands after the lifting of border restrictions... lawsuit against ABN Amro because of its merger with Barclays... three week old Royal Princess Ariane taken up in hospital... And rather unsually I started to dream as well... unpleasant dreams, about this piece of assignment I had to hand in last week.

When I decided I couldn't go on sleeping any more, which was around the same time as when my stomach kept on kicking, it was almost nine.

Queen's day

Walking home under a starlit sky seemed like a relief. The air was cool, and calm, and around me were sihoulete of trees and bushes that rustled slightly in the night breeze. Were it not for my light footsteps, and the occassional embarassingly loud scrapping of my shoes, it was so peaceful. So different from the whole day of din in the city.

The Queen's Day celebrations continued today, and the queen and her three princes seemed to have once again indulged themselves on their traditional 'day out'. It's the one day in the year the queen walks around and waves at cheering crowds, perhaps stopping here and there to receive the random bouquet from a royal fan, and giving the odd handshake. The princes enjoyed themselves too it seems, and this year with a bit of salsa dancing and fish-eating. Ordinary everyday events become extraordinary headlines when the royals do it.


Elsewhere, the country partied on. The entire country coloured orange as streets and windows panes became drapped with orange banners and the national colours of red-white-blue. It's the also the one day in the year when anyone can haul out garbage that have been collecting dust in the basement, and sell them on the streets, without a license. Vrijmarkt (Free market) they call it, and most things that are so tacky and dirty might as well be given away freely. But in this enlightening experience, you see Dutch culture at its most expressive. This is after all a thrifty nation, proud of the few cents that can be saved, and few cents that can be earned at any occassion. Everything, from worn-out clothes (even underwear) to whole furniture sets, from VCRs dating from the 80s to dolls with missing limbs. If it can be used again, it can be seen and sold.



I wandered the streets of Amsterdam (A'dam) with a friend, and admired the impressive array of wares on offer. Some things were still pretty decent, but we couldn't stop laughing as we wondered what anyone would want with a lonesome shoe.



We ventured forward, and spent some time at a gigantic music venue on Museumplein. A huge stage had been erected there, and thousands of people assembled before the the stage that pumped out live music, some good old hits from yesteryears, others more current hits... but all managed to work up the crowd. The sun was bright, and the sky clear. Some had even gone as far as stripping and lying down on the rubbish-filled grass to get a tan. The mood was electric, mingled with the occassional wafts of weed. Funny, I thought to myself, as I recalled that no less than three years ago the same square was bursting at the rims with a quarter of a million angry protesters demonstrating against the pensions reforms institigated by the last Christian right cabinet. Today, the crowd was united too, by the passion of Orange, by booze and by the rhythm of the music. I tried to avoid looking at the fallen pieces of unfinished pancakes, french fries and hamburgers, and had to restrain myself from kicking the tonnes of beer cans and plastic cups lying all over the place. Other people's gardens temporarily became places of 'convenience', as some guys decide to do some watering in broad daylight.



We wandered the streets some more, walking along the narrow streets and arteries of canals that criss-cross the heart of A'dam. Every street corner, at every cafe and every bar, music was blaring, and crowds gathered to shake and move their bodies. Old, young, 'queens', tourists, children ... everyone seemed to have lost themselves in orange fever. Boats carrying loud boom boxes cruised the canals and were boarded by people who moved frantically to the beat, in scenes reminiscent of the Gay Pride during the summer. It was crazy, this one big party, filled with bizzare kinds of dresses and costumes, diverse kinds of music. The taps kept on flowing with golden, foamy liquid, and in the air the smell of grilled burgers and freshly baked wafels made mouths water. We ended up at one place right next to the Westerkerk, right next to the house a timid girl, and writer-wannabe, named Anne Frank hid during the War. The loud band, stringy sounds of hot guitars and incessant drumming that played classic rock and pop songs could not have been a more stark contrast to what happened so many decades ago. People all over the place drank and ate, feasted and partied like there's no tomorrow. Perhaps trying to not remember that tomorrow there's still work... or in our case, class.

I generally am not such a big fan of such street parties where you have to really fight for your space if you want to continue walking. But it's always nice to see what kind of craziness people get up to. And it's always nice to do it with friends, and have something worth remembering about, so that one day we can look back and say: "Remember then..."

Queen's eve

The moon was almost completely out, but still shy, sheltering behind a thin veil of clouds. It was awfully quiet, almost unnaturally so, as I slowly cycled home. The wind was chilly, just like the weatherman had predicted, and a far, far world away from what the temperature had been during the day. Slowly I cycled home, head spinning still from the slight tipsiness induced by the loud music and alcohol. I was getting away from the the noise and choas in the city.

Queen's Eve (Koninginnenach) is perhaps the biggest national celebration in the Netherlands. It's the night before the Queen's (unofficial) Birthday, which falls on the last day of April. Since the weather is so much better than the drab dreariness and gray, and like any celebration in this country, it's always a good excuse for a big p-a-r-t-y.



For a few days in a row, people go wild in the country. The streets dye orange, as flags and banners bearing the colour of the royal family appear in a sudden frenzy. Temporarily orange-fever takes over the shelves in shops, the fashion and even the foods on offer at the supermarket. Unusually, and for the first time ever in my life, I too donned on an orange jumper to fit in.

Agreed with some friends to meet at the city centre, as traditionally The Hague has always been the place to be on Queen's Eve. Indeed, like every year, huge podiums were erected in and around the centre of town, and by the time we arrived the sea of people had already swamped what normally would be wide open squares. As expected, many were in orange, many wearing the official T-shirt of the Dutch football team, others just any odd orange shirt or pants or hats after a good dig in their closets. Lights flashed all around, as loud music drummed into ours ears.

The music was alright, but a little too random, and ended much too soon. One moment you could be swaying to something latin, and the next to a hit from the eighties, to be followed up by techno. Perhaps when you're drunk, you don't notice. And Like any open-air party, the ground was sticky, filthily littered with cups of plastic and beer bottles and coke cans. The air smelt of that smell of beer, one that I personally find nauseating, worsened as other revelers spill it onto you in their half-drunked swagger with two, three cups of beer in their hands. Walking around you had to pry your feet up in order to take the next step, of course, always mindful not to step on the delicious-looking remains of someone else's dinner (and/or lunch). At least the company of my friends was pleasant enough to make the rest seem bearable.



My favourite moment was the 'afterparty', when two girls and I ventured through the crowd and managed to end up in front of the building where we usually have classes. Right next door was a club, playing a (random) mixture of songs. Perhaps it was the alcohol acting up, or the ridiculousness of the way many fellow Dutchies were dancing around us, but we seemed to have suddenly cast off our conscious selves and indulged in what seemed like endless frolicking and fun. We did the pogo-dance and seeing each other's laughters and claps we were encouraged to go on dancing. Right there, in the middle of the street, in front of the very building we have our tedious law lectures, we probably made a fool of ourselves in front of dozens of people, but we didn't mind. We were having too much fun to mind, and kept on pogo-dancing, jumping up and down, spinning and turning around, getting higher and delirous from every single step. Up and down, we lost ourselves, seemingly forgetting all about the worries of the world, and life that goes with it, just enjoying the moment and treasuring it, and every moment of it.

Fun...