Dear Friends and Family,
Thanks to those of you who have been reading the blog and leaving comments or emailing me. Apparently you have to be registered google user, or have a google email, or something like that, to leave comments, which is causing difficulties for some of you. Comments are fun, but don't worry about leaving them if it's a problem; you can always email me!
You might have noticed I haven't posted in a while. In fact, I've barely been able to get myself to look at the blog at all for a couple of weeks. The bottom line is, my sense of humor has finally failed me.
I will not bore you with the numerous details, because it would be no more fun for you to read than it's been for me to suffer through. Suffice it to say that I'm sure the Netherlands is a wonderful place to immigrate to if you're from a third-world country or have nothing to lose, but no one from the U.S. should ever consider moving here. Speaking not only as a U.S. citizen, but as a veteran of 12 years of U.S. federal employment (6 of which were in the Dept. of Defense), and as the spouse of someone who had to deal with U.S. Immigration repeatedly (and who eventually became a naturalized citizen), I can say the Netherlands far outperforms the U.S. in excessive bureaucracy and regulations, obstructiveness, and money-grubbing.
I am seriously considering writing a detailed account of everything we've had to go through to be here and submitting it to Dutch newpapers or magazines. It won't be fun and I'm much rather be writing humor or children's books, but I'll do it because (1) the Dutch public has no idea about these aspects of their government's behavior (anyone I've told even a fraction of the story to has been surprised and appalled), and (2) Anyone living in the U.S. who is considering moving here should be fully informed of what's involved before making that decision.
In short, I'll be back blogging when I again feel able to share the more positive or humorous aspects of life here. It could be a while. But please check back every so often!
Monday, October 25, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Assimilation
Evidence That I Am Assimilating
I bought a 15 kilo bag of scoopable cat litter (that's over 30 lbs, my friends - 33 lbs to be pretty much exact), put it on the right side of my bike in the bike saddle bag, and stayed balanced riding said bike (I am using the word "balanced" strictly in the physics/gravity sense here) all the way home. The only counterweight was the bag I carry around with me daily, which I put in the left saddle bag, and which did not weigh anywhere near 33 lbs (although it gets close sometimes). Now if that feat doesn't make me worthy of permanent residency status, damned if I know what does!
I have mastered the fine art of not quite stopping all the way when I approach a red light on my bicycle. I can balance, virtually motionless, for several seconds while desperately hoping the light will change soon enough that I don't have to get off the bike and then start up again.
Sometimes people actually understand me the first time I say something in Dutch. Also, I am starting to think in Dutch sentence structure, even in English. Pretty soon, I'll be incomprehensible in both languages.
I have finally figured out how to type the € in Microsoft Word.
Evidence That I Still Have a Way to Go
I can't tell the difference between a wedding and a funeral. I've seen the participants in one of each, in passing, and both times just about everyone was dressed in black. But now I know that knee-length formal black jackets are worn by coffin-bearers, not by members of a wedding party, so I am making progress.
I still think Dutch people dress funny.
I do not understand why, on washers and dryers specifically designed for energy efficiency, approximately 16 little orange lights go on, and stay on, after a cycle is complete.
I have not figured out how to type the euro sign directly in this blog. Or anywhere other than in Word, for that matter. Do not be fooled by the cut-and-paste euro sign above.
I bought a 15 kilo bag of scoopable cat litter (that's over 30 lbs, my friends - 33 lbs to be pretty much exact), put it on the right side of my bike in the bike saddle bag, and stayed balanced riding said bike (I am using the word "balanced" strictly in the physics/gravity sense here) all the way home. The only counterweight was the bag I carry around with me daily, which I put in the left saddle bag, and which did not weigh anywhere near 33 lbs (although it gets close sometimes). Now if that feat doesn't make me worthy of permanent residency status, damned if I know what does!
I have mastered the fine art of not quite stopping all the way when I approach a red light on my bicycle. I can balance, virtually motionless, for several seconds while desperately hoping the light will change soon enough that I don't have to get off the bike and then start up again.
Sometimes people actually understand me the first time I say something in Dutch. Also, I am starting to think in Dutch sentence structure, even in English. Pretty soon, I'll be incomprehensible in both languages.
I have finally figured out how to type the € in Microsoft Word.
Evidence That I Still Have a Way to Go
I can't tell the difference between a wedding and a funeral. I've seen the participants in one of each, in passing, and both times just about everyone was dressed in black. But now I know that knee-length formal black jackets are worn by coffin-bearers, not by members of a wedding party, so I am making progress.
I still think Dutch people dress funny.
I do not understand why, on washers and dryers specifically designed for energy efficiency, approximately 16 little orange lights go on, and stay on, after a cycle is complete.
I have not figured out how to type the euro sign directly in this blog. Or anywhere other than in Word, for that matter. Do not be fooled by the cut-and-paste euro sign above.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
On Language
Now that we're living in Holland I'm reacquainting myself with Dutch, which I learned by immersion more years ago than I'll admit. I long go lost fluency from disuse, but all these years later I am a much more sophisticated language end-user, so I'm noticing things I wasn't aware of before. In this episode of "language strikes you funny," specifically "the Dutch language strikes you funny," we will be discussing gendered nouns and their associated gendered articles and pronouns. Those of you who think this level of attention to language is geeky and tedious have permission to run screaming from this little piece of cyber space right now, so as not to spoil the fun for the rest of us.
Alrighty then, for the lonely language geek still with me (you know who you are): unlike English, many languages have two or three genders for nouns. In French and Spanish all nouns are either masculine or feminine, and if preceded by the word "the," the "the" has to be in the appropriate masculine or feminine form (e.g., le garcon and la fille). Also, if you want to use a pronoun in place of the noun, you have to use the language's word for "he" or "she" rather than the impoverished one-size-fits all "it" we use in English. Same thing in German, except German, just to make things more difficult for everybody else, uses three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter (der mann, die frau, das kind).
Yes, you say, this stuff is truly fascinating and all, but what does it have to do with Dutch? Dutch is closely related to German, so you might expect it to have three genders. It is even more closely related to English, as it happens, so now that you know this nifty fact you might expect Dutch to have only neuter nouns. Well, I hate to shatter your entirely rational expectations, but Dutch has only two genders. AHA!, you exclaim, so it's got that masculine-feminine duality thing going on; it's a romance language wanna-be! WRONG AGAIN!! No, Dutch has the following two genders: masculine and neuter.
Doesn't that just make you wonder? I mean, how do you come up with the idea that there are only two categories of things in the world: "Male" and "Everything Else"? What does that say about you as a language, a culture, a people? And to make matters worse, for someone trying to learn the language, it's anybody's guess what's masculine, what's neuter, and why. Not surprisingly, the word for "man" is masculine: "de man." Surprisingly, the word for "woman" is masculine: "de vrouw." If someone asks me where my jacket is in Dutch, I have to say (in Dutch) "He is hanging in the closet." Of course, since I generally have no idea whether my jacket, or any other item of clothing, is hanging in the closet or is masculine or neuter (a masculine bra hanging in the closet, now that would be funny!) I've been trying to think of a way around this little linguistic problem. I considered dropping pronouns altogether, but that won't work, because if you say "the jacket" you have to know whether to use "de" or "het," and if you say "my jacket" you have to know whether to use "mijn" or "mijne."
From now on, I'm sticking with verbs.
Alrighty then, for the lonely language geek still with me (you know who you are): unlike English, many languages have two or three genders for nouns. In French and Spanish all nouns are either masculine or feminine, and if preceded by the word "the," the "the" has to be in the appropriate masculine or feminine form (e.g., le garcon and la fille). Also, if you want to use a pronoun in place of the noun, you have to use the language's word for "he" or "she" rather than the impoverished one-size-fits all "it" we use in English. Same thing in German, except German, just to make things more difficult for everybody else, uses three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter (der mann, die frau, das kind).
Yes, you say, this stuff is truly fascinating and all, but what does it have to do with Dutch? Dutch is closely related to German, so you might expect it to have three genders. It is even more closely related to English, as it happens, so now that you know this nifty fact you might expect Dutch to have only neuter nouns. Well, I hate to shatter your entirely rational expectations, but Dutch has only two genders. AHA!, you exclaim, so it's got that masculine-feminine duality thing going on; it's a romance language wanna-be! WRONG AGAIN!! No, Dutch has the following two genders: masculine and neuter.
Doesn't that just make you wonder? I mean, how do you come up with the idea that there are only two categories of things in the world: "Male" and "Everything Else"? What does that say about you as a language, a culture, a people? And to make matters worse, for someone trying to learn the language, it's anybody's guess what's masculine, what's neuter, and why. Not surprisingly, the word for "man" is masculine: "de man." Surprisingly, the word for "woman" is masculine: "de vrouw." If someone asks me where my jacket is in Dutch, I have to say (in Dutch) "He is hanging in the closet." Of course, since I generally have no idea whether my jacket, or any other item of clothing, is hanging in the closet or is masculine or neuter (a masculine bra hanging in the closet, now that would be funny!) I've been trying to think of a way around this little linguistic problem. I considered dropping pronouns altogether, but that won't work, because if you say "the jacket" you have to know whether to use "de" or "het," and if you say "my jacket" you have to know whether to use "mijn" or "mijne."
From now on, I'm sticking with verbs.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Cultural Similarities, and Then Some
I tried asking the tree-in-the-forest-question in Holland once, and the reaction I got gave me some insight into Dutch culture and its similarities with American culture.
Both American and Dutch culture value the practical, the useful, the what-you-see-is-what-you get. American immigrants and pioneers didn't have time to sit around philosophizing; they were too busy trying to settle the wild frontiers, overthrow British tyranny, strike it rich, or just plain survive. Maybe the Dutch didn't have a vast frontier to settle, but they had colonies and trade routes to dominate, Spain to overthrow, other European aggressors to fend off, and a whole lot of soggy land to rescue, and keep rescued, from the ocean.
This wildly over-simplified yet piercingly on-target historical analysis makes it unsurprising that being pragmatic, problem-solving, and fully in touch with the concrete realities of life are far more valued in both cultures than being what the Dutch picturesquely call a "wolkenfietser" (literal translation: cloud bicyclist. And doesn't the very fact that they have such a term say it all?).
In many ways, Dutch culture is even more down-to-earth than American culture. "What's it good for?," "How can we turn this situation to our advantage?," and "How much money can we make on this?" are often the implicit or explicit response to just about any stimulus. And I waltzed right into this culture several years ago, had a lovely home-made Indonesian dinner (see dominated colonies, above) with some of my beloved extended family members, and, for reasons that currently escape me entirely, asked the tree-in-the-forest-question during after-dinner conversation.
The initial response was non-verbal. Try to picture a couple of 70-somethings sitting across from you. Now picture the nonverbals that would go with this subtitling: "We're not sure we heard that right, but if we did we're speechless because that is the most utterly vacuous question we have ever heard and a total no-brainer. WHY would anybody from this planet ever even consider irking us with such inanity? Don't you have something better to do? (a small country somewhere to colonize, maybe?)."
The nonverbal episode segued smoothly to an admirably restrained verbal response. Culturally speaking, it had to be considered admirably restrained, because not only are the Dutch even more pragmatic than Americans, they're also even more straightforward. They tend to pretty directly speak their minds, in a manner that Americans can experience as blunt and tactless, but it's just the cultural norm, and not intended to offend (case in point: there's a little handbook to help Turkish immigrants assimilate into Dutch culture entitled "Just Act Normal. ").
So the polite response I got was that, yes, the tree would make a sound even if no one were there to hear it fall. When I asked how they knew, the answer went like this: "Because when I went for a walk in the forest the next day I would see that the tree had fallen and know it had made a sound." Well, I can assure you I had no snappy comeback for that one; I just told them the tree wouldn't make a sound if there was no on there to hear it.
I bet I don't have to do the virtual subtitling thing again for you to imagine the response to that assertion! They didn't even segue into a verbal response asking me to explain the deeply flawed, if not certifiably insane, reasoning leading to my hopelessly misguided conclusion. Clearly, there was no interest in viewing the whole thing as a philosophical question to be explored, no sense that there might be more than one "correct" answer to the question.
That's when I got the sudden insight that these reactions signified both individual concrete thinking and perhaps a cultural value system favoring concrete over abstract thought. Not knowing when to stop, I immediately tried testing this insight by rapping sharply on the wooden table between us and proclaiming it to be mostly empty space, no matter how solid it might seem. Well, that was the end of that conversation, I can tell you! I swear if they'd had any antipsychotic medication on them I'd have been force-fed it right then and there (or maybe they thought I'd made a recent visit to the local smartshop).
As a Trained Scientist, I'm aware an n of 2 is not a representative sample. I'm sure there are many fine citizens of the Netherlands who are more than willing to engage in debate over the tree-in-the-forest or any other philosophical question (preferably over a beer or three). My real points are that, culturally speaking, the Netherlands is more similar to the U.S. than it is different, and there are many things to find humorous in both countries. Also, I am from another planet.
Both American and Dutch culture value the practical, the useful, the what-you-see-is-what-you get. American immigrants and pioneers didn't have time to sit around philosophizing; they were too busy trying to settle the wild frontiers, overthrow British tyranny, strike it rich, or just plain survive. Maybe the Dutch didn't have a vast frontier to settle, but they had colonies and trade routes to dominate, Spain to overthrow, other European aggressors to fend off, and a whole lot of soggy land to rescue, and keep rescued, from the ocean.
This wildly over-simplified yet piercingly on-target historical analysis makes it unsurprising that being pragmatic, problem-solving, and fully in touch with the concrete realities of life are far more valued in both cultures than being what the Dutch picturesquely call a "wolkenfietser" (literal translation: cloud bicyclist. And doesn't the very fact that they have such a term say it all?).
In many ways, Dutch culture is even more down-to-earth than American culture. "What's it good for?," "How can we turn this situation to our advantage?," and "How much money can we make on this?" are often the implicit or explicit response to just about any stimulus. And I waltzed right into this culture several years ago, had a lovely home-made Indonesian dinner (see dominated colonies, above) with some of my beloved extended family members, and, for reasons that currently escape me entirely, asked the tree-in-the-forest-question during after-dinner conversation.
The initial response was non-verbal. Try to picture a couple of 70-somethings sitting across from you. Now picture the nonverbals that would go with this subtitling: "We're not sure we heard that right, but if we did we're speechless because that is the most utterly vacuous question we have ever heard and a total no-brainer. WHY would anybody from this planet ever even consider irking us with such inanity? Don't you have something better to do? (a small country somewhere to colonize, maybe?)."
The nonverbal episode segued smoothly to an admirably restrained verbal response. Culturally speaking, it had to be considered admirably restrained, because not only are the Dutch even more pragmatic than Americans, they're also even more straightforward. They tend to pretty directly speak their minds, in a manner that Americans can experience as blunt and tactless, but it's just the cultural norm, and not intended to offend (case in point: there's a little handbook to help Turkish immigrants assimilate into Dutch culture entitled "Just Act Normal. ").
So the polite response I got was that, yes, the tree would make a sound even if no one were there to hear it fall. When I asked how they knew, the answer went like this: "Because when I went for a walk in the forest the next day I would see that the tree had fallen and know it had made a sound." Well, I can assure you I had no snappy comeback for that one; I just told them the tree wouldn't make a sound if there was no on there to hear it.
I bet I don't have to do the virtual subtitling thing again for you to imagine the response to that assertion! They didn't even segue into a verbal response asking me to explain the deeply flawed, if not certifiably insane, reasoning leading to my hopelessly misguided conclusion. Clearly, there was no interest in viewing the whole thing as a philosophical question to be explored, no sense that there might be more than one "correct" answer to the question.
That's when I got the sudden insight that these reactions signified both individual concrete thinking and perhaps a cultural value system favoring concrete over abstract thought. Not knowing when to stop, I immediately tried testing this insight by rapping sharply on the wooden table between us and proclaiming it to be mostly empty space, no matter how solid it might seem. Well, that was the end of that conversation, I can tell you! I swear if they'd had any antipsychotic medication on them I'd have been force-fed it right then and there (or maybe they thought I'd made a recent visit to the local smartshop).
As a Trained Scientist, I'm aware an n of 2 is not a representative sample. I'm sure there are many fine citizens of the Netherlands who are more than willing to engage in debate over the tree-in-the-forest or any other philosophical question (preferably over a beer or three). My real points are that, culturally speaking, the Netherlands is more similar to the U.S. than it is different, and there are many things to find humorous in both countries. Also, I am from another planet.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Hellloooooooooo........?
Hey, folks! Add a comment under a post once in awhile or drop me an email! I'm starting to feel as though I'm talking to myself (and I have a husband and son for that!). And that gets me wondering whether writing when nobody's reading is on a psychiatric par with hearing voices when nobody's talking (hint: Not Good. I refer you to the DSM IV-whatever-revision-we're-on-these-days).
If a tree falls in the forest and there's nobody there to hear it, does it make a sound?
If a tree falls in the forest and there's nobody there to hear it, does it make a sound?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
And While We're on the Topic of Drugs....
Since moving to the Netherlands, I have felt secure in the knowledge that at no time have I been more than a few meters away from a potential cup of coffee. I suspect that, while coffee is in fact a legal substance available without prescription in this country, it is, like marijuana, subject to some regulation. I imagine at least one of the regulations goes something like this:
"We, the people of the Netherlands, consume coffee at the respectable rate of 8.4 kg per capita annually. Nevertheless, we rank only 5th in per capita coffee consumption worldwide. Yes, Finland, Norway, Iceland and Denmark have longer, darker, colder winters than we do, not to mention they are full of Scandinavians! But are these reasons to allow them to surpass us? Furthermore, Sweden is gaining on us! Where's your national pride? Be it therefore resolved that at least one multifunction, full-service automatic coffee apparatus be placed in all universities, government workplaces, and private businesses located more than 10 meters away from a cafe, restaurant, coffeeshop, or private residence."
The first time I encountered one of these koffieautomaten was in the Immigration Office, where the receptionist invited us to help ourselves to coffee, hot cocoa, or tea from the machine. We were faced with a bewildering array of choices. We were already bewildered enough, what with the procedures involved with establishing my official existence and permanent residency, and with bureaucracy in general (remember bedrijfshulpverleningsorganisatie?). So the complex decision-making process required to get a cup of coffee out of this machine was almost beyond me. There was coffee mild, medium, or strong; with or without milk and/or sugar. There was espresso, cappucino, wiener melange (you're on your own), hot chocolate, tea, and multiple permutations thereof. You put your little plastic cup under the spout, push the three or four buttons necessary to indicate your choice, pray that you didn't press "wiener melange" by mistake, and watch the machine dispense your beverage. "What's this button, the one that says 'kan'?," asked Ben, finger dangerously poised in the pointing position mere millimeters away from it. Turns out that's the one you push when you have a coffee carafe in hand, ready to fill for you and six of your closest co-workers. You most definitely do not want to push that button if you are carafe-less.
Not fully in possession of my wits or my camera at the time, I missed the photo opp and the associated comic potential of the situation. However, thanks to Dutch coffee regulations, I have encountered such machines in several other places, including but not limited to the grocery store, the cafeteria located in the Cobbenhagen Building at Tilburg University, high school teachers' lounges, hospitals, and a restroom somewhere. Okay, I made that last one up. But the rest are True Facts and, because (1) I always have this sneaking suspicion that some of you doubt my veracity and (2) they say a picture is worth a thousand words, and I don't feel like writing a thousand words right now any more than you feel like reading them, I submit below some authentic, non-photoshopped pictures of two of the three automatic coffee machines located in the university's cafeteria.
The simple little model in the bottom picture is located right inside the service area of the cafeteria, where there are trained staff on hand to instruct you in the use of the thing or respond to a coffee emergency, should one arise. This low-end model has a mere 31 possible permutations and combinations. It is complicated, however, by the need to figure out under which of the 4 spouts you should carefully center your cup. I am particularly fond of its choice of adjectives describing beverage strength: "mild," "normal," and "strong." Just a little judgmental, don't you think?
The top machine can be operated in the time it takes to skip your next class. Two of these machines are located against the wall at the far end of the cafeteria, where there are no coffee-machine-certified staff to come to your rescue. The picture only shows the selection panel; the machine itself is the size of a soda vending machine. It dispenses 17 different beverages (not counting soup), which can be adjusted for 3 levels each of strength, milk content, and sugar content. Assuming that every drink can be adjusted for strength, but not necessarily for milk or sugar level, at a conservative estimate that's at least 100 possibilities. Do the math yourself if you don't believe me. The good news: there's only one spout under which to place your cup, so that's one fewer decision to make.
"But DoubleDutchDeb!" you exclaim (again!), "Maybe these are just some hoity-toity, high-brow university machines, unnecessarily complicated just to show off?" Could be. So far, I think the only machine I've met that was as complicated as the top one pictured was at the Immigration Office. They might not be a group of egg-head intellectuals over there at Immigration, but bureaucracies do delight in excessively complicated procedures. On the other hand, the Jumbo Supermarkt machine, where you can help yourself to a free coffee while shopping, looks like the bottom picture. So I'd have to conclude that the university is doing its patriotic best to increase coffee consumption across a demographic with a wide range of koffieautomaten competency.
"We, the people of the Netherlands, consume coffee at the respectable rate of 8.4 kg per capita annually. Nevertheless, we rank only 5th in per capita coffee consumption worldwide. Yes, Finland, Norway, Iceland and Denmark have longer, darker, colder winters than we do, not to mention they are full of Scandinavians! But are these reasons to allow them to surpass us? Furthermore, Sweden is gaining on us! Where's your national pride? Be it therefore resolved that at least one multifunction, full-service automatic coffee apparatus be placed in all universities, government workplaces, and private businesses located more than 10 meters away from a cafe, restaurant, coffeeshop, or private residence."
The first time I encountered one of these koffieautomaten was in the Immigration Office, where the receptionist invited us to help ourselves to coffee, hot cocoa, or tea from the machine. We were faced with a bewildering array of choices. We were already bewildered enough, what with the procedures involved with establishing my official existence and permanent residency, and with bureaucracy in general (remember bedrijfshulpverleningsorganisatie?). So the complex decision-making process required to get a cup of coffee out of this machine was almost beyond me. There was coffee mild, medium, or strong; with or without milk and/or sugar. There was espresso, cappucino, wiener melange (you're on your own), hot chocolate, tea, and multiple permutations thereof. You put your little plastic cup under the spout, push the three or four buttons necessary to indicate your choice, pray that you didn't press "wiener melange" by mistake, and watch the machine dispense your beverage. "What's this button, the one that says 'kan'?," asked Ben, finger dangerously poised in the pointing position mere millimeters away from it. Turns out that's the one you push when you have a coffee carafe in hand, ready to fill for you and six of your closest co-workers. You most definitely do not want to push that button if you are carafe-less.
Not fully in possession of my wits or my camera at the time, I missed the photo opp and the associated comic potential of the situation. However, thanks to Dutch coffee regulations, I have encountered such machines in several other places, including but not limited to the grocery store, the cafeteria located in the Cobbenhagen Building at Tilburg University, high school teachers' lounges, hospitals, and a restroom somewhere. Okay, I made that last one up. But the rest are True Facts and, because (1) I always have this sneaking suspicion that some of you doubt my veracity and (2) they say a picture is worth a thousand words, and I don't feel like writing a thousand words right now any more than you feel like reading them, I submit below some authentic, non-photoshopped pictures of two of the three automatic coffee machines located in the university's cafeteria.
The simple little model in the bottom picture is located right inside the service area of the cafeteria, where there are trained staff on hand to instruct you in the use of the thing or respond to a coffee emergency, should one arise. This low-end model has a mere 31 possible permutations and combinations. It is complicated, however, by the need to figure out under which of the 4 spouts you should carefully center your cup. I am particularly fond of its choice of adjectives describing beverage strength: "mild," "normal," and "strong." Just a little judgmental, don't you think?
The top machine can be operated in the time it takes to skip your next class. Two of these machines are located against the wall at the far end of the cafeteria, where there are no coffee-machine-certified staff to come to your rescue. The picture only shows the selection panel; the machine itself is the size of a soda vending machine. It dispenses 17 different beverages (not counting soup), which can be adjusted for 3 levels each of strength, milk content, and sugar content. Assuming that every drink can be adjusted for strength, but not necessarily for milk or sugar level, at a conservative estimate that's at least 100 possibilities. Do the math yourself if you don't believe me. The good news: there's only one spout under which to place your cup, so that's one fewer decision to make.
"But DoubleDutchDeb!" you exclaim (again!), "Maybe these are just some hoity-toity, high-brow university machines, unnecessarily complicated just to show off?" Could be. So far, I think the only machine I've met that was as complicated as the top one pictured was at the Immigration Office. They might not be a group of egg-head intellectuals over there at Immigration, but bureaucracies do delight in excessively complicated procedures. On the other hand, the Jumbo Supermarkt machine, where you can help yourself to a free coffee while shopping, looks like the bottom picture. So I'd have to conclude that the university is doing its patriotic best to increase coffee consumption across a demographic with a wide range of koffieautomaten competency.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Seed Catalogs
The Fly 'N Hy coffeeshop has three small round tables outside where customers can enjoy a coffee or cola while smoking. It reminded me of my first coffeeshop experience, years ago, when we were wandering around some town (Arnhem, I think) and wanted to find a cafe so we could sit and have a cup of coffee. Not in the habit of discriminating between the terms "coffeeshop" and "cafe," we went into a coffeeshop and I tried to order a decaf. No go. So, being pregnant and wanting to avoid caffeine, I asked if they had any herbal tea. Well, a menu full of herbs they had, but none of it was in tea form.
It was just such an herb menu I was hoping to come away with this time. There was one posted on the board behind the counter, listing varieties, quantities, and prices, but I didn't see a take-out menu. So I asked the kid behind the counter if they had one. Clearly, management policy at this place dictates that staff should be personally familiar with the shop's products, because if anybody was Fly 'N Hy, it was that kid. Eventually, despite my accent and the kid's blood THC level, I got a sign that there had been comprehension and and answer (no).
Unfortunately, since there was no take-out menu and I didn't hang out long enough to memorize the posted offerings, I can't fully report on what was available. I do remember it was sold in strange amounts, among them 0.8 gram, 1.5 grams, or, in the case of one substance, a joint. Actually, even if I could remember what was on the menu it wouldn't do much good; they were just names like "White Widow," "Purple Tops," and "Bob Marley's Best." I'm not sure I ever even knew that pot came in varieties; at least I never gave it any thought. At Fly 'N Hy you're Fly 'N Solo if you don't already know the difference between hash and marijuana, much less the difference between one species of weed and another. I've met better wine menus; you can sometimes get a description of the wine's characteristics, or at least a grouping by color or dryness. I suppose if you want advice you can ask the staff, but if you want to know why I didn't try that I refer you to the previous paragraph.
Luckily the seed catalogs (and I am not talking tulips!) kindly made available by the smartshop were wondrously educational. Each catalog listed at least twenty different varieties, split into "indoor" and "outdoor" sections and with individual growing advice. Each entry lists plant height, buzz type, THC level, weeks flowering, genetic background, yield, and harvest month. (Also I learned that magic mushrooms are referred to here as "truffles").
"But DoubleDutchDeb!" you exclaim, "All of these categories are objective and quantitative except 'buzz type,' which is subjective and qualitative! What, exactly, are the domains of buzz? What are the criteria? How is all this determined and validated? And what about multicollinearity of the factors involved?"
Well, I just knew you'd ask those very questions, so here, based on the Royal Queen Seeds and High Quality Seeds catalogs, is what I have learned about the all-important "buzz type" variable, summarized in graphic form. Those of you who participated in our monthly wine tasting group back in Maryland will recognize this graphic as a highly simplified knock-off of the wine aromas wheel painstakingly developed by A.C. Noble et al. at U.C. Davis in the 1980's and published in the esteemed American Journal of Enology and Viticulture, in an article entitled "Modification of a Standardized System of Wine Aroma Terminology" (1987). I am considering submitting my somewhat-less-painstakingly-developed Sativa-Indica Effects Wheel to High Times, a periodical perhaps not so highly esteemed as but undoubtedly more widely read than the American Journal of Enology and Viticulture.
It was just such an herb menu I was hoping to come away with this time. There was one posted on the board behind the counter, listing varieties, quantities, and prices, but I didn't see a take-out menu. So I asked the kid behind the counter if they had one. Clearly, management policy at this place dictates that staff should be personally familiar with the shop's products, because if anybody was Fly 'N Hy, it was that kid. Eventually, despite my accent and the kid's blood THC level, I got a sign that there had been comprehension and and answer (no).
Unfortunately, since there was no take-out menu and I didn't hang out long enough to memorize the posted offerings, I can't fully report on what was available. I do remember it was sold in strange amounts, among them 0.8 gram, 1.5 grams, or, in the case of one substance, a joint. Actually, even if I could remember what was on the menu it wouldn't do much good; they were just names like "White Widow," "Purple Tops," and "Bob Marley's Best." I'm not sure I ever even knew that pot came in varieties; at least I never gave it any thought. At Fly 'N Hy you're Fly 'N Solo if you don't already know the difference between hash and marijuana, much less the difference between one species of weed and another. I've met better wine menus; you can sometimes get a description of the wine's characteristics, or at least a grouping by color or dryness. I suppose if you want advice you can ask the staff, but if you want to know why I didn't try that I refer you to the previous paragraph.
Luckily the seed catalogs (and I am not talking tulips!) kindly made available by the smartshop were wondrously educational. Each catalog listed at least twenty different varieties, split into "indoor" and "outdoor" sections and with individual growing advice. Each entry lists plant height, buzz type, THC level, weeks flowering, genetic background, yield, and harvest month. (Also I learned that magic mushrooms are referred to here as "truffles").
"But DoubleDutchDeb!" you exclaim, "All of these categories are objective and quantitative except 'buzz type,' which is subjective and qualitative! What, exactly, are the domains of buzz? What are the criteria? How is all this determined and validated? And what about multicollinearity of the factors involved?"
Well, I just knew you'd ask those very questions, so here, based on the Royal Queen Seeds and High Quality Seeds catalogs, is what I have learned about the all-important "buzz type" variable, summarized in graphic form. Those of you who participated in our monthly wine tasting group back in Maryland will recognize this graphic as a highly simplified knock-off of the wine aromas wheel painstakingly developed by A.C. Noble et al. at U.C. Davis in the 1980's and published in the esteemed American Journal of Enology and Viticulture, in an article entitled "Modification of a Standardized System of Wine Aroma Terminology" (1987). I am considering submitting my somewhat-less-painstakingly-developed Sativa-Indica Effects Wheel to High Times, a periodical perhaps not so highly esteemed as but undoubtedly more widely read than the American Journal of Enology and Viticulture.
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