Kindness of Dutch

Dutch friends and colleagues often tell me that the Dutch are rude. Books about the Netherlands I read before moving here corroborated this impression. More specifically, the Dutch are known for being straightforward to the point of occasionally causing offense (perhaps mostly to people who aren't used to the Dutch). I've noticed this, though I haven't had any problems with it. It's actually a bit of a relief to me, since I used to fume at the (seemingly) fraudulent, forced kindness in some situations in the U.S. (e.g., corporations forcing their employees to introduce themselves to customers by name, ask customers how their day has been, ask if they found everything in the store OK, etc.).

Beyond a lack of superficial niceties, though, I haven't noticed any kindness deficit from the Dutch. In fact, there are occasional acts of kindness in Amsterdam that I can't picture happening in the U.S.

I've been meaning to replace my glasses for a few months now. They got dinged up a bit in my bike accident last year, and they keep sliding down my nose (in fact, I've recently realized some of my colleagues apparently mock how often I push my glasses up my nose after they've slid down). It's been about two years since my last eye exam, so I made an appointment at an optometrist close to my apartment.

The optometrist was a gregarious man in his mid-30's who apologized for how quickly he spoke in English. We talked back and forth rapidly for 20 minutes, mostly about how much he loves the U.S., where he's gone in his two visits to the U.S., and how much he wants to visit the U.S. again soon (specifically Disneyland). After the eye exam, he told me that my updated prescription would be virtually identical to my previous one, and that I probably don't need new lenses. I told him about my frames sliding down my nose and being crooked, and, after looking at them for a minute, he said that he could adjust them in less than 10 minutes. He did so, and I talked with him and the other optometrist about Dutch and U.S. budget issues, tourism, insurance policies, etc. 

After he fixed the glasses (which now fit perfectly), he shook my hand and thanked me for coming in. I asked him what I owed him for the exam and the adjustment. He said, "Nothing - it was my pleasure." So, despite the sign saying that exams are 20 euro, and the fact that he spent over 30 minutes on the exam and adjustment, he let me leave without paying a cent.

Immediately after the eye exam, I biked to one of the ubiquitous Gall and Gall stores around the Netherlands (the sales clerk told me that there are over 500 in the country). I recently had a paper accepted for publication in one of the top journals in psychology, and I'd promised myself that I'd buy a decent bottle of scotch if the paper was eventually accepted. 

After I'd been looking at the wall of scotch for a minute, the clerk asked me (in Dutch) if he could help me. I replied (in English) that I was just browsing for the moment. Ten seconds later, I said that, yes, he probably could help me. We talked about scotch for the next few minutes - about what I'd liked and disliked in the past, and  what might match with my tastes. He suggested that the Dalwhinnie 15 (what he warned me is called "The Ladies' Scotch," to which I replied that I ride a ladies' bike). I decided to follow his suggestion and to also get a bottle of Singleton 15 for comparison, partially because I've enjoyed the Singleton 12 in the past. While I was there, I also got a bottle of French Pinot Noir and French Sauvignon Blanc, a large bottle of Chimay Blue, and a large bottle of Kwak. 

When I went to pay, the clerk said told me that there was a promotion on Johnny Walker Gold: two bottles for 60 euro. He said that he would charge me for those two instead of the two I'd bought, which should have combined for 80 euro. The store was also running a special where, if you buy two bottles of wine that are both under eight euro, you can have them both for eight (kind of a buy one get one free). He gave me this deal too, even though my pinot noir was 13 euro. In total, I walked away spending about 85 euro on the selection - I think that, without the unsolicited breaks, it would have cost 110.

So, the Dutch can be as straightfoward as they like. If people keep giving me free or heavily discounted goods and services, I'll consider them to be some of the kindest folks in the world. 

Third Season

When I moved to Albuquerque (the "ABQ" in this blog title) after living in the Phoenix area for about 23 years, I struck by a city with "four seasons," partially because this ostensible benefit of living in Albuquerque was repeated by dozens of residents in my first months there. I suppose that Albuquerque does have four seasons. Why this was noteworthy  is a bit beyond me. I think that even equatorial regions have seasonal variation in precipitation, if not (much) variability in temperature. 

Anyway, the special attention paid to Albuquerque's four season distinction confuses me more after a year in Amsterdam, where there seems to be even more seasonal variation in daylight, rainfall, foliage, etc. I'm starting to realize that four seasons really ain't that special. 

The cut-point between summer and fall was abrupt this year. It was 80 degrees and sunny on Sunday the 9th, a few days after Doug and I returned from Paris. Then it rained all week and barely got above 60 degrees. Suddenly a jacket seemed like a good idea for the morning bike ride to work, and, a few days later, I broke the gloves out. The leaves on the trees outside of my windows started to look sad and limp, and the color slowly shifted from green to brown. 

I met a work friend and her fiance for a dim sum brunch at noon last Saturday. It was one of those days where rain would fall hard for twenty minutes, then it would be sunny with bright white clouds around for several hours before repeating. The air was cool and crisp, cleaned out from the moisture, and the bright sunlight reflected off the water and against the changing colors of the leaves.

While walking around, I saw that the Zuiderkerk (Southern church), which I've seen dozens of time but never knew the name of, was charging seven euro for a tour up to the top, where I could get a panoramic view of Amsterdam. I'd done something like this in Gent, Bruges, Delft, and Utrecht over the past two months, but never Amsterdam. So I jumped at the chance.

The Zuiderkerk from below

The Zuiderkerk from the south. This is an especially nice view at night.

And now, a week later, the inexorable changing of the seasons continues. The trees have fewer leaves than last week, and my hands went numb while I walked around for the first time since last spring. But we still have another month before the clocks "fall back" and nighttime starts around 5:00pm - about another month of enjoying autumn before the long Dutch winter begins.

Summer in Paris

We experienced some (metaphorical) turbulence in traveling from Gent to Paris. We allowed ourselves approximately one hour to get from our apartment to the train station, but the tram we took – which should have taken approximately 20 minutes to get to the station – stopped halfway and forced everyone to leave for reasons beyond our understanding. By the time we managed to get to the station, we had missed our train to Brussels by the time we arrived at the station. Then, when talking to a clerk at the train station, we discovered that a) our tickets from Brussels to Paris were non-refundable and non-transferable, and our tram effectively rendered our tickets to Paris useless, and b) we (and, largely “I”) had misread the train tickets anyway, and we would have missed the connection in Brussels even without the tram kerfuffle. Ultimately, we had to buy new tickets (a little under $100 per person) and take a different route to Paris.

Well, adventures in travels. If that’s the worst thing that happens during a trip (and, it was), the trip should probably be considered a success. We arrived at Gare du Nord in Paris around 3:00pm and, after being chatted up by a Frenchman who was chased off by a police officer for being a known (or, at least, estimated) pickpocket, we metro’d and walked to the Rodin Museum and garden, where we saw The Thinker and several other works with names unknown to me, but that I would describe as “Entrance to the Gates of Hell,” “Three Demons,” and “Blind Smelter” (I am guessing that my descriptions do not have much in common with the actual names).

After Rodin, we made our way to our AirBnB apartment, which was on the sixth flood of a building in the middle of the Latin Quarter, which is one of the most historic and, at this point, touristy areas in Paris. The apartment was about 300 square feet, with a plumbing system that did not allow water to be drained through different pipes at the same time (shower, toilet, sink), a pullout couch in the living room (where Ruben slept), and a dusty queen sized mattress that Doug and I shared in a cramped loft that was only accessible via a narrow, nerve wracking ladder. But what the apartment lacked in comfort and luxury, it made up for in location and view.

The street view from our apartment window

Looking to the right from our apartment window over the adjacent church

Notre Dame at night

The back of Notre Dame at night, over the Seine

A more detailed look at the Notre Dame exterior

The Seine at night, near Ile Saint Louis

Wallabies(!) in a park we walked through

Lunch in the Luxembourg Gardens

Ruben loves Paris. And he has "wine teeth" at 1pm.

Statues on the bridge near Invalides

The Arc de Triumph

Our two full days in Paris consisted of walking, walking, drinking a bottle of wine in a park, walking, walking, going to a museum, walking, eating a crepe, going to a church, more wine, and more walking. I’d guess that we walked about fifteen miles over the two days. On Monday from our apartment west along the Seine to Mouffetard, where Doug and I had stayed in a hostel during our trip to Paris in 2002, to the Luxembourg gardens, to the Champs Elysee, to the Arc de Triumph, to the Bois do Bologne, back to the apartment, and then to Invalides and the Eiffel Tower. Then on Tuesday to the Musee D’Orsay back to the apartment to Notre Dame to the Louvre to dinner to the Toulleries Gardens to Pont Des Arts back to Notre Dame and the apartment.

As during my last visit to Paris in March, I was struck by how large and, generally, impressive Paris is compared with Amterdam. I can’t think of (or, perhaps more accurately, imagine) a city on earth with more history and famous landmarks concentrated within a few miles than Paris. Just along the Seine, and a mile north and south of the river, we passed the Eiffel Tower, Invalides, the Arc de Triumph, Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Musee D’Orsay, and the Champs Elysee. But the city is also dirty (the urine smell along the river was occasionally nauseating), loud, stressful, and, if not rude, lacking of warmth and affection. Lacking in the “coziness” that defines a large part of the Amsterdam experience. Although I love Paris – and it will always have a place in my heart after living there when I was 20 – I felt relieved to return home to the quiet bicycles, warm glow of apartment windows at night, and general coziness of Amsterdam.

  

The  Louvre at night

Looking toward Pont des Arts at night

Looking toward Ile Saint Louis at night

The Saint Michel fountain