Palinka!

I first heard of palinka, which is an Eastern European spirit, when my good friend Doug told of his trip to Romania when he was 19. While staying in what he describes as a Romanian Peasant Village, his hosts served him something called palinka. He apparently was overserved and ended up quite ill, presumably with substantial cleanup necessary. I tried the drink myself a few times – both in the U.S., and in Europe – and it never quite had that effect on me. Part of this is probably because palinka has no standard strength or quality. It’s basically a general term for a brandy-like spirit distilled from fruits; it can be anywhere from 80 proof to 180 proof. Some of it is manufactured and bottled, and some of it is made in a bathtub. My guess is that Doug had some of the bathtub variety.

My latest couchsurfing guests were Gergo from Budapest and Anika from Cologne. They are wrapping up their undergraduate degrees in psychology, and they had a little time available to travel before wrapping up their undergraduate theses/finals. They had very little money, so they hitchhiked all through Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands, and they couchsurfed along the way.

Gergo did bring a bottle of his grandfather’s homemade palinka. He said that it was about 50% alcohol (100 proof). So, not quite what Doug probably had in Romania, but a bit stronger and more authentic than what I’ve bought in the store. He transported it in a plastic water bottle. This was reminiscent of the Ecuadorian moonshine that my other college roommate Ruben transported back from Latin American in a large Dasani bottle. I never tried that moonshine, but I believe that everyone who did ended up sick before the end of the night.

I drank the palinka tentatively, but I found it to be surprisingly good. It had a little bit of a tequila feel to it, and it was very warming.

Gergo ended up leaving it with me, since I was the last leg of their trip. I’m not sure if/when I’ll have an opportunity to put it to use, since I rarely consume spirits, especially at home. Perhaps I’ll share it with other couchsurfers in the future.

The VU

I applied to about 20 universities for faculty jobs last fall. Those positions were scattered across the U.S., and they included some superficially less exciting places like Nebraska, Iowa, and North Carolina. And, of course, I applied for a position at a university in Amsterdam. Given the brutal job market, I was very fortunate to get any position. But I was especially charmed to end up at what is likely the best work environment and the coolest location.

The university I work at is called Vrije Universiteit, which translates as “Free University.” It’s commonly referred to as VU University Amsterdam, and it is simply known as “the VU” locally. Though the “VU” sounds much more like “Little Bunny Fu-Fu” than the hard “v” sound in English; also note that the University of Amsterdam – a separate school – is known as “the UVA,” which sounds like “OO-fa”. The university was called “free” when it was founded in the 19th century to advertise its freedom from the Catholic Church and government. It is technically a Calvanist school, though, as best as I can tell, it is as secular as the rest of Amsterdam. It currently has a little over 20,000 students, and it seems to operate just like a major research university in the U.S.

The campus is located in the southern part of Amsterdam, near the newly constructed “business district” and close to the city Amstelveen. This area does not look much like the main part of Amsterdam. It has several tall, modern buildings, and there are still some undeveloped open spaces sitting around.

Popular opinion among my colleagues suggests that the campus is not very attractive. I wouldn’t go that far – especially since I’m still biased to say that anything with green grass is pretty – but I would say that it differs from what I’m used to. The main building is a giant, blocky monolith that towers over the rest of campus.

There are several other smaller (and also, arguably, blocky) buildings that loop around campus. And there is a fairly new, conspicuous modern building in the middle of campus, which is situated right next to the campus bar (yep, there's a campus bar).

My building is on the western side of the campus, near the medical center. Faculty in my department often share offices - this is fairly unusual in the schools I've been to in the U.S. But it seems to work quite well. The space is about twice as large as the individual faculty offices at UNM, and I enjoy talking with my office mate.

And, since I was riding with a camera along the route where I sustained my bike injuries, I figured I'd put up a few pictures of the scene of the accident. I was riding on this bike-only path through Beatrixpark. When I was about to pass the intersection between the path and another road (a road where cars are allowed), I saw the motorcyclist pull up and stop. I slowed down before seeing that he had come to a complete stop and was presumably waiting for traffic to pass, and then I continued. He pulled onto the bike path right in front of me.

And this was his viewpoint, turning left.

Rainy Tourism

Amsterdam is obviously a very popular tourist definition. As Bill O’Reilly has said, it’s Disneyworld for “those people.”

(I should probably italicize that to represent Bill’s scorn toward those who would rather visit a city that is notorious for its decriminalized prostitution and marijuana than a children friendly corporate creation: it’s Disneyworld for those people)

Given my city’s popularity, I’ve been inundated with couchsurfing requests since I changed my address from Albuquerque to Amsterdam. I initially agreed to host Ana earlier this week, a pair of travelers a week later, and another traveler a few weeks from now, as well as my friend Lucien from the U.S. in between. So I decided to decline the fifteen or so other requests I’ve received in a week.

However, Caro, a woman from Germany traveling with her friend Mathius, responded to my rejection by begging and writing charming follow-up emails. I liked the persistence, so I agreed to host them from their arrival on Friday at 6am to their departure on Sunday at 11pm.

They turned out to be very fun people to host. Unfortunately for them, their visit has been marred by some pretty hellacious weather. They wanted very badly to do two things last night: visit the Red Light District, and go to the Paradiso dance club (a famous club in Amsterdam that is situated in an old cathedral). The rains came and went during the daytime, with clouds moving quickly above the city and briefly dumping misty showers. But things really took a turn for the worse around 7pm. The temperatures fell well below 60 degrees – perhaps even below 50 – the rain fell harder, and the winds began gusting. It felt like one of those rare cold, damp days in a Phoenix winter that would dump snow on the Superstition Mountains outside of the city.

We managed to walk around the Red Light District and see many prostitutes only feet away behind their windows (and, in fact, one had her window/door open) while we huddled under our umbrellas and danced around two-inch deep puddles of water. But the winds were so bad that we were occasionally pulled in the air like Marry Poppins, and our umbrellas broke in places. It felt like the type of North Sea rage I picture when reading Beowulf or Hamlet, and it was bad enough to elicit a lot of Masato-like “what a fuck”s from Mathius. Ultimately, it exhausted, depressed, and discouraged us from making it to the dance club. We eventually retreated back to my apartment via cab instead.

This picture was taken before our extended trudgings through the rain. Hopefully Caro and Mathius enjoyed their stay despite the cold wetness. It did make me wonder how many well planned and eagerly anticipated vacations to Amsterdam are fouled by lousy weather.

Insurance Companies are Nice

To date, the total damage from my bike accident included:

My bike (purchased for 175 euros two weeks before the accident) being damaged beyond reasonable repair.

My glasses (purchased for around the equivalent of 200 euros in April) being scratched to the point that the lenses need to be replaced.

My mp3 player (purchased for around the equivalent of 80 euros in December) being beat up pretty badly, though still functioning.

Several chiropractic appointments, which I believe are being fully covered by my health insurance.

The scooter driver in the accident, Ed, filed a claim for the damages with his insurance company. I got in touch with an agent from that company yesterday, and I described the accident and the extent of the damages.

Initially, the agent suggested that I needed to get quotes from experts regarding the current value of the goods. She said that I may have purchased the glasses and bike for what I say, but that item values depreciate over time, and they may not have been worth their initial amount during the crash.

Apparently my “sad voice” and description of how I’d been hit after I’d just arrived in Amsterdam bought me some good will and flexibility from the insurance company. The agent took a tally of what I said my items were worth, and she said that she’d be willing to wire me 450 euros for damages to the bike, glasses, and mp3 players. Then, without any request on my part, she said that the insurance company would give me an additional 550 euros for the pain and inconvenience from the accident. So, in sum, they were offering 1000 euros.

I was floored by the offer. I had expected no more than 300 euros, and, if the company had offered me nothing, I probably would have simply walked away from the situation, happy with my intact bones. I have no idea if this is a typical experience with a Dutch insurance company, or if I was just lucky in this situation. Regardless, I’m pretty happy with the outcome. The 550 euros the company offered for pain and discomfort isn’t worth what I experienced after the accident, but it far exceeds what I would have expected.

In other news, I hosted my first couch surfer, Ana from Romania/Toronto. It was a lot of fun – we went out to dinner and walked around Central Amsterdam on Monday night, and we cooked together and shared traveling stories on Tuesday night. It was great to show someone the city, and show off the minimal Dutch and Amsterdam knowledge I've acquired.

I’m inundated with couch surfing requests at the moment. I've got a few Germans coming this weekend, and some Hungarians the following. They've promised to bring German beer and Hungarian palinka. Sounds like a good deal to me.

All Wet

A few years after I visited Europe for the first time, I realized that my impression of its beauty may have largely been a product of its precipitation. Having grown up in the desert and rarely traveling outside of Arizona, save for occasional drives through more desert to the beaches of Southern California, I’d rarely traveled where luscious green plants and trees are the norm. My appreciation of the French, German, and Dutch countryside may have largely been an appreciation of not being in a vast, dry wasteland (no offense, Phoenix). In the long run, I’m quite grateful for this outlook; it allows me to marvel at something that non-desert natives may view as commonplace.

Naturally, the lack of desert vegetation goes hand-in-hand with a lack of precipitation. The rains were always a special event in Phoenix and Albuquerque – a break from the norm during the 1 in 100 overcast, drizzly days in the fall, winter, or spring, or a daylong buildup of thunderheads ending in a thrilling twenty minute crescendo of winds, dust, lightening and thunder during the summer monsoons.

So the steady rainfall that started on Tuesday around 7pm was quite charming at first. I got under my blanket in bed and read a book with a glass of wine. It continued through the night, and it didn’t bother me much on my bike ride into work on Wednesday. It was light enough on Wednesday afternoon to simply flutter in small circles in the wind. It came down heavier in its 24th hour on Wednesday evening. By Thursday, it was falling quickly enough that it soaked me during my 7:00am bike ride to my chiropractic appointment, and the wind blew strongly enough to break my umbrella.

The charm evaporated completely by Thursday afternoon, when the rain started pouring heavily horizontally outside of my office window. I waited until after 6pm to ride home, hoping that it would stop. It didn’t, so I got on my bike and headed home. My pants were soaked through five minutes into the 25 minute ride – it was like I’d just jumped into a swimming pool with my clothes on.

So it only took three days of rain – and a half year’s amount in Phoenix – to make me as much of an anti-rain curmudgeon as any other person living in Amsterdam.

Unfortunately, I haven’t taken many nice pictures this week.

But I have been trying some cool beers:

First Museum

I invested in a Museum Card, which costs around 50 euros and gets you into hundreds of museums around the country for free for a year, before my trip to the castle last month. I bought it with the intention of skipping of for a few hours at a museum when I have a few free hours on a weekend.

I used it for the first time on Sunday at the Tropenmuseum, which exhibits collectors items, art, photographs, and videos of developing world locations (with a special emphasis on places that the Dutch have invaded/conquered/enslaved in the past, like Surinam and Indonesia). It also had an interesting theme dedicated to the color red:

After the museum, I took trip to the center to revisit a beer store I’d stopped in last month. It has sections for U.S.A., Dutch, German, Belgian, Scandinavian, and Eastern European beers. It’s nice to know that, if I’m really dying for an American IPA, I can get one (albeit for three or four euros for a 12 ounce bottle).

I ended up buying four beers – three Belgians and a German – and a four pack of Dutch microbrews that came with two glasses. I’ll probably shop here regularly. The beer selection – along with the friendly cat – are enticing.

I also checked out the Dappermarket, which is similar to the Albert Cuypmarket. Of the street markets, it’s supposed to be the most “ethnic.” I didn’t see much of a different between it and the other one; most of the goods were cheapies from Southeast Asia. But they did have a similar selection of cheeses, fish, and nuts as the other market.

Acclimation

This feels like the first relaxing, lazy Saturday I’ve had since mid-April. I’ve found a coffee shop (well, what is a coffee shop in the U.S.; “coffee shop” refers to something else in Amsterdam) with bagels, tea, and Wi-Fi only two minutes by foot from my apartment. I’m working on journal reviews like I would probably be doing in Albuquerque at this time. It’s even drizzly – but not pouring – giving the day a pleasant, relaxed feel.

Bagels and Beans, a local chain

I’ve also found a bar close to my apartment that has about 20 beers on tap, only two of which (Pilsner Urquell and Chimay White) I’ve heard of before. I took a book there on Wednesday evening and read while drinking the bartender’s recommendation, which turned out to be a thoroughly enjoyable Tripel Karmeliet (side note: all the bars I’ve been to in Amsterdam serve beers in a glass labeled with the beer).

Along with getting a SIM card – and a data plan and phone number –starting some data collection at the university, and beginning treatment on my neck/back after the bike crash, it feels like the most difficult parts of moving might be in the past. We’ll see if it stays that way over the next few weeks.

Turbulence

I had hoped that my trip to France last week would be relatively smooth, since I could barely move my neck after my bike crash. Unfortunately, striking airline employees, Thalys (a train company), and Orbitz/Delta/KLM/Air France did not take these desires into account.

After struggling out of bed at 6am (struggling because my neck felt like it was holding my head up with frayed dental floss), I walked half a kilometer to the metro station, grabbed a connecting train to the airport, and tried to check in for my flight to Montpellier from Amsterdam. To my surprise, the flight had been canceled, and neither the booking agency (Orbitz) nor the airlines had informed me. In fact, Orbitz had emailed me the day before saying that my flight was “confirmed.” The woman at the KLM ticket counter appeared unsympathetic, and she said that she could neither rebook me for another flight, nor could she do anything about reimbursing me, since I’d booked through Orbitz.

I was a bit torn – should I cancel the trip, since I had no way to get there and my neck and back hurt badly enough that I was having trouble moving and taking deep breaths? Or should I try to get there another way, since I’d already paid for the conference registration and lodging, I was scheduled to give a talk, and the prospect of canceling felt like an admission of defeat at the hands of bad luck.

I decided that canceling the trip wasn’t the way to go, and I trudged through the airport to the train booking counter. I explained my situation to an agent, and she was able to book a one-way trip from Amsterdam to Paris, and then from Paris to Montpellier. In all, it would take about eight hours, and it would cost me 285 euros (about $400). I bought the ticket at 9am, and the train was supposed to depart at 11:15am, so I had some time to kill. I spent part of it going back to the KLM ticket counter and trying (and again failing) to get my flight refunded.

After waiting for two hours, I went to the train platform just in time to hear an announcement that the train had been delayed by 20 minutes. Twenty minutes after that, I heard an announcement that the train was being delayed an additional thirty minutes. These announcements continued until the train arrived around 1:30pm. This was going to make my 3:30pm train connection in Paris kind of difficult to make, since Amsterdam to Paris is over four hours by train. Apparently the original train had some mechanical problems, so they sent a substitute train that would take us the Brussels, where we’d board the “real” train to Paris.

Unfortunately, the “real” train ended up being overbooked, since it had both us refugees from Amsterdam and its original passengers. So I was left without a seat, crammed into a little corridor between two train cars with eight other passengers. Not the best way to spend ninety minutes.

Once in Paris, the rest of the trip was uneventful. I missed my connection to Montpellier, but I was able to catch another one. I ended up getting into Montepellier around 10:30pm, and I mercifully was able to figure out the tram system and check into my dorm without incident.

Despite the train quagmire, going to the conference ended up being the right choice. My talk went very well, a lot of the other talks were interesting and enjoyable, and it felt really cool to be around people speaking French, to eat French food, to drink French wine, and to see French architecture. I regretfully forgot my camera in Amsterdam; some of the pictures (including the courtyard of an old cathedral in which we had the final night banquet) would have been amazing.

I did get a nice, unexpected surprise when I returned to Amsterdam. I realized that the airport, the train, the tram, and all the people on bicycles made me feel like I had come home rather than arrived in another foreign, European city. So that’s good progress, I suppose.