On Monday I decided to have a take away food. After my "8hour routine" I chose a Surinam take-away restaurant and ordered a chicken pakora. Waiting for the dish, I strolled along the streets in order to find a perfect spot to suck my dose of meat. You have to bear in mind that in the squat where I live "dead animals" are not kindly seen on the table; thus, the only safe place for me is to have them somewhere near one of Amsterdam canals. That's why I chose a nice corner to sit-it was a crossing of two canals where most of the touring ships tucked with tourists take turns ( <---- nice aliteration btw).
Having grabbed a sack full of curry I took the course towards the quey. On my way I noticed a nice alley and decided to pass through. From the corner of my eye I saw a woman lying in her white underwear as if posing for a photo. I wouldn't be surprised if I saw her in the Red Light District but it was a normal residential area. My curiosity took over and decided to come back to her, just to check if my eyes didn't delude me. Passing one more time, she waved at me. As she was lying behind the window pane I couldn't ask her why she was lying there. Anyway, it would be stupid to ask her if she lied just to relax or if she waited for a client. I assumed that she was resting on a sunbed after a hard-working day. Anyway, who cares if she does it almost naked or not? Some people need to shed their skin after work; to remove the toxic layer of themselves, of their masks that they had to take on while at office. Working people take on different, in many cases, not wanted tasks that they have to cope with while at work. These tasks lie heavily on them, they cannot agree with them, and not agreeing with them they don't agree with themselves. Being at work they often do not morally accepted tasks, things that stand beyond the truth they got used to. Once they come home they are full of lies and fed up with fighting with themselves. Seeing naked people in the centre of the city in that way I totally understand them now and promise no longer to wonder at the sight of a naked woman behind the window pane.
In the light of the setting sun I ate the curry drinking Dutch beer "la Trappe".
Just to remind you: La Trappe is the Trappist brewery from Koningshoeven Abbey. There are 7 Trappist breweries in the world. Six in Belgium and one in the Netherlands. A part of the profit from selling the beer goes to the monasteries in Indonesia and Uganda. La Trappe Isid'or is named after Brother Isidorus, the first brewer of La Trappe. It is mildly sweet in taste but also with a bitter tone and a caramel note. Its colour reminds of amber and you can smell a fruity flavour going straight from the bottle, owning its special aroma from the Perle hop.
Stay tuned for more information of the kingdom of beer from the Netherlands!
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Alkmaar - traversing greenness and cheese.
Going towards Alkmaar I could sense the air's humidity. Earth, water and a little bit of sun swelled the air with wooden scent of dampness. The incense coming from the fields perspired the palms of my hands. The greenness outside the train's window entered into the nostrils. There was only a flat landscape full of plants which took advantage of the climate. Every field hit eyes with small, green rootlets that ran well-ordered one by one.
In the town, a huge chunks of cheese greeted me. They smiled with their round faces. I couldn't help but eat them, as they seemed ready to be eaten. They didn't let me down - their mellow taste melted in my mouth. Some of them were even with herbs what surmounted the taste of milk.
The trip ended with the sweetness of flowers. Passing through small streets and embarking on the return route I couldn't help but feel the warmness of red alabaster-like asters, a bright solution of gentian violet, blossoming lilacs and dwart elder. But before sailing off the shore I smelled the strong aroma of Dutch cheese.
In the town, a huge chunks of cheese greeted me. They smiled with their round faces. I couldn't help but eat them, as they seemed ready to be eaten. They didn't let me down - their mellow taste melted in my mouth. Some of them were even with herbs what surmounted the taste of milk.
Sailing the seas of cheese (kaas in Dutch) I have to mention that Alkmaar has 400 year old cheese market. The cheese carrier's guild (kaasdragersgilde) is first mentioned in 1619. Sailing further I came across the Waagplein ("weighing square") where white-dressed cheese farmers ran about the square with wheels of Gouda and Edam cheese. They carried the wheels on huge semisercular carriers hanging from their leather suspenders. There, at the market square the wheels are being weighed, tasted and sold. There are about 30,000 kilos of yellow cricular objects ready to eat!
Monday, 19 July 2010
Maybe we need genocides to keep us smiling?
"Africa is rich. But it is rich not only of minerals (coltan, diamonds, cassiterite) but also of people and their stories. They have a lot of stories to tell and they tell them with a smile on the face. However brutal and cruel a story is they tell it with a smile. I interpret it as a kind of distance to what they tell us. It's a distance we also ought to learn. The Europeans don't smile so often as Africans. Maybe it is because we forgot genocides, wars, atrocities we experienced long time ago? Maybe we need genocides to keep us smiling?"
From an interview with Nkunda Obutu.
From an interview with Nkunda Obutu.
Friday, 16 July 2010
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
What's the most you ever lost in a coin toss?
Imagine you come into a supermarket. You buy milk, bread and butter. You hand in money at the cash desk and expect the rest. You realize that they didn't give you 2 cents! Come on, your hard earned T W O cents!
Forget about it, forget about 2 cents and 1 cent. You won't get it anywhere in the Netherlands. They won't give it to you. It's the rule of the pocket. Too heavy pockets are not comfortable for you. You won't feel secure either with a pocket full of coins. Plus they clink and definitely lower your trousers, revealing your red pants. So, the Dutch solution is to get rid of 1 and 2 cent coins. They are withdrawn from circulation.
If you have to pay 9.58 and you hand in a 10 banknote you'll get 0.40 cents instead of 0.42. Don't worry, if the price of your favourite strawberry chocolate bar is, let's say 2.84, you can calmly hand in 2.80. As simple as that!
Forget about it, forget about 2 cents and 1 cent. You won't get it anywhere in the Netherlands. They won't give it to you. It's the rule of the pocket. Too heavy pockets are not comfortable for you. You won't feel secure either with a pocket full of coins. Plus they clink and definitely lower your trousers, revealing your red pants. So, the Dutch solution is to get rid of 1 and 2 cent coins. They are withdrawn from circulation.
If you have to pay 9.58 and you hand in a 10 banknote you'll get 0.40 cents instead of 0.42. Don't worry, if the price of your favourite strawberry chocolate bar is, let's say 2.84, you can calmly hand in 2.80. As simple as that!
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Deep down into human nature
From S.C.U.M. Manifesto (Society for Cutting Up Men) by Valerie Solanas:
"The male is a biological accident: the Y (male) gene is an incomplete X (female) gene, that is, it has an incomplete set of chromosomes. In other words, the male is an incomplete female, a walking abortion, aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples.
The male is completely egocentric, trapped inside himself, incapable of empathizing or identifying with others, or love, friendship, affection of tenderness. He is a completely isolated unit, incapable of rapport with anyone. His responses are entirely visceral, not cerebral; his intelligence is a mere tool in the services of his drives and needs; he is incapable of mental passion, mental interaction; he can't relate to anything other than his own physical sensations. He is a half-dead, unresponsive lump, incapable of giving or receiving pleasure or happiness; consequently, he is at best an utter bore, an inoffensive blob, since only those capable of absorption in others can be charming. He is trapped in a twilight zone halfway between humans and apes, and is far worse off than the apes because, unlike the apes, he is capable of a large array of negative feelings -- hate, jealousy, contempt, disgust, guilt, shame, doubt -- and moreover, he is aware of what he is and what he isn't. (...)
Every man, deep down, knows he's a worthless piece of shit."
and it goes like this for a couple of pages. Now, for something completely different, Shadows in Paradise by E. M. Remarque:
"The male is a biological accident: the Y (male) gene is an incomplete X (female) gene, that is, it has an incomplete set of chromosomes. In other words, the male is an incomplete female, a walking abortion, aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples.
The male is completely egocentric, trapped inside himself, incapable of empathizing or identifying with others, or love, friendship, affection of tenderness. He is a completely isolated unit, incapable of rapport with anyone. His responses are entirely visceral, not cerebral; his intelligence is a mere tool in the services of his drives and needs; he is incapable of mental passion, mental interaction; he can't relate to anything other than his own physical sensations. He is a half-dead, unresponsive lump, incapable of giving or receiving pleasure or happiness; consequently, he is at best an utter bore, an inoffensive blob, since only those capable of absorption in others can be charming. He is trapped in a twilight zone halfway between humans and apes, and is far worse off than the apes because, unlike the apes, he is capable of a large array of negative feelings -- hate, jealousy, contempt, disgust, guilt, shame, doubt -- and moreover, he is aware of what he is and what he isn't. (...)
Every man, deep down, knows he's a worthless piece of shit."
and it goes like this for a couple of pages. Now, for something completely different, Shadows in Paradise by E. M. Remarque:
Monday, 12 July 2010
Sunday, 11 July 2010
Bernhardiner under the bridge
'Do you want to use the subway? It's not working today.'
The man standing in front of the subway's entrance informed me in Dutch. He was in his 50s and wore a fluorescent jacket. We talked for a while. When I told him I came for internship, it turned out he was a director of theatre . He took out a piece of paper and started to write me some information about whereabouts of important Dutch institutes connected with film and animation. I wondered why he is standing under the bridge and advise against using the underground just because it doesn't work. It seemed to be his sole work here. Maybe it's normal for the Dutch to have several jobs, like a theatre director or a businessman and, on the other hand, when the theatre is closed in summer, a kind of a blue-collar job, a manual worker, a cleaner. It reminded me of a joke. Do you know the story of a man who visited a Russian immigrant nightclub in Paris? The manager wanted to impress him: 'This doorkeeper - he says - was once a general, the waiter - a count, the singer - a great prince, and so on." The guest remained silent. Soon the manager pointed to a small dachshund which the guest brought along. "What's this?", he asked politely. "This one? He was before a Bernhardiner in Berlin", the guest replied.
The man standing in front of the subway's entrance informed me in Dutch. He was in his 50s and wore a fluorescent jacket. We talked for a while. When I told him I came for internship, it turned out he was a director of theatre . He took out a piece of paper and started to write me some information about whereabouts of important Dutch institutes connected with film and animation. I wondered why he is standing under the bridge and advise against using the underground just because it doesn't work. It seemed to be his sole work here. Maybe it's normal for the Dutch to have several jobs, like a theatre director or a businessman and, on the other hand, when the theatre is closed in summer, a kind of a blue-collar job, a manual worker, a cleaner. It reminded me of a joke. Do you know the story of a man who visited a Russian immigrant nightclub in Paris? The manager wanted to impress him: 'This doorkeeper - he says - was once a general, the waiter - a count, the singer - a great prince, and so on." The guest remained silent. Soon the manager pointed to a small dachshund which the guest brought along. "What's this?", he asked politely. "This one? He was before a Bernhardiner in Berlin", the guest replied.
Friday, 9 July 2010
Names written in heaven
"Przyglądałem się ulicy. Kahn pobiegł za moim wzrokiem.
- Czy to jest to samo miasto? - zapytał. - Teraz, kiedy mówi pan już o wiele lepiej?
- Przedtem było ono obrazem i pantomimą, obecnie jest już reliefem. Posiada wypukłości i zagłębienia. Przemawia i coś się z tego rozumie. Jeszcze niewiele, i to się przyczynia do nierealności sytuacji. Przedtem każdy kierowca taksówki wydawał się sfinksem, każdy sprzedawca gazet-zagadka świata. Jescze i teraz byle kelner wydaje mi się małym Einsteinem, ale Einsteinem, którego ja już rozumiem - jeżeli oczywiście nie rozprawia o fizyce i matematyce. Zachwycenie trwa dopóty, dopóki się niczego nie potrzebuje. Jeżeli jednak o coś się zabiega, zaczynają się trudności i z wyżyn swych filozoficznych marzeń spada się do poziomu opóźnionego w rozwoju dziesięciolatka."
Remarque, Cienie w raju.
When you return to your homeland and start to speak in mothertongue you can sense the banality of words, their transparency - you are aware that most of them are meaningless and you repeat the same phrases just because you are used to them; they are easy to pronounce, sound even so obscene and ridiculous that you are surprised when speaking them. Maybe that's why I like to stay abroad, far away from mothertongue. Speaking your language always brings too many thoughts that might be not filtered by your language. But when using your second language - the one you have learnt for months, years or the one you start to speak - you always start with simple thoughts, ideas that give you the grounding for more advanced thinking. Once you have built that surrounding around you - surrounding built on words and images that reside mostly in people's minds, the people with whom you speak, then after having built that scaffold you can try and really tell them something really interesting. Like simple but powerful "I love you".
buRn aLL PRiSONS
excerpts from DE BLACKLIST (July 2010):
"In the early hours of August 23rd The Anarchist Fire sabotaged the construction of a new migrant detention centre at Rotterdam Airport. They called on everyone to set fire to the systems that seek to destroy people. Meanwhile it is almost a year ago and nothing happened. Well, nothing happened? A new consortium is going to build a new migrant detention centre [a]t Schiphol Airport! One of the participants is Strukton which makes a profit out of the detention of people who will be deported.
That was one of the reasons for us, Anarchist Arsonists, to break the silence. We want to put action where our mouth is, so in the early hours of June the 16th we set fire to the head office of Strukton in Maarssen.
Our action is aimed at the horrible situation of incarcerated migrants. Fire is meant to destroy buildings and systems, not people as happened five years ago at Schiphol. We therefore call on people to help us in our struggle against the system which kills innocent people.
ANARCHIST ARSONISTS"
Thursday, 8 July 2010
The shirt I want to be buried with.
There are some things you're sure you will be using forever... My shirt is the one. Craghoppers.
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
9 incomplete steps to make a squat
There is nothing like living in a squat. You probably wonder how you can make one?
Here are 9 incomplete steps to make a squat. Now, you probably wonder where the missing
steps is? Good, remember to take precautions!
1. Decide on an abandoned place-i.e. the one that has not been empty for a long time
(which is from 1 year onwards).
2. Gather 30 people or more (the more the better) and set date and time of
squatting.
3. Prepare some facts, like: who owns the building or flat, why it hasn't been yet occupied
(it can help you when later the police arrrive); prepare some tools, like wooden planks, matresses, etc.
so onced you break in than you can barricade the place from inside; get a crowbar and other tool necessary
to open alocked door.
4. Go there with your group of people and encircle the place. Let the "locksmith" break in, the others
will secure the front door. Let them look like if they were on a picknick, it doesn't matter
if it is in the centre of the town.
5. Probably some curious neighbour will call the cops. When they arrive let someone talk to them and explain calmy that the place is now taken by squaters who live there (that's why you need matresses and other props to show them
that someone is living there). Caution!: you can let the police inside and show them the place
but if they behave too confident and rude DON'T LET THEM IN! On no condition! Once they are inside they can take the place over.
6. If the police try to enter the premises without your consent DON'T LET them do that!
Prepare yourself and the group to resist by forming a chain and make sinister looks.
7. If the police take action I wish you good luck, if they leave then hope they won't be back
with a special unit armed like robocops. You can now pass the symbolic key to the new owner of
the premises. He or she, in case the police come, can contact with the lawyer who will take charge of
the formal side of the flat.
8. If later the police come DON'T OPEN the door! You can hand them a piece of paper with
the number of the lawyer and ask them to contact with him.
9. Make yourself at home!
Here are 9 incomplete steps to make a squat. Now, you probably wonder where the missing
steps is? Good, remember to take precautions!
1. Decide on an abandoned place-i.e. the one that has not been empty for a long time
(which is from 1 year onwards).
2. Gather 30 people or more (the more the better) and set date and time of
squatting.
3. Prepare some facts, like: who owns the building or flat, why it hasn't been yet occupied
(it can help you when later the police arrrive); prepare some tools, like wooden planks, matresses, etc.
so onced you break in than you can barricade the place from inside; get a crowbar and other tool necessary
to open alocked door.
4. Go there with your group of people and encircle the place. Let the "locksmith" break in, the others
will secure the front door. Let them look like if they were on a picknick, it doesn't matter
if it is in the centre of the town.
5. Probably some curious neighbour will call the cops. When they arrive let someone talk to them and explain calmy that the place is now taken by squaters who live there (that's why you need matresses and other props to show them
that someone is living there). Caution!: you can let the police inside and show them the place
but if they behave too confident and rude DON'T LET THEM IN! On no condition! Once they are inside they can take the place over.
6. If the police try to enter the premises without your consent DON'T LET them do that!
Prepare yourself and the group to resist by forming a chain and make sinister looks.
7. If the police take action I wish you good luck, if they leave then hope they won't be back
with a special unit armed like robocops. You can now pass the symbolic key to the new owner of
the premises. He or she, in case the police come, can contact with the lawyer who will take charge of
the formal side of the flat.
8. If later the police come DON'T OPEN the door! You can hand them a piece of paper with
the number of the lawyer and ask them to contact with him.
9. Make yourself at home!
Monday, 5 July 2010
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