Merry Dutch Christmas to all! And yes, before you ask, Holland does have Christmas. In fact, after a short trip to Germany, I am pleased to report that between the two countries, we controll 80% of the world's Christmas lights, and most importantly- Christmas carols. We have now refined the art of Christmas carolling to weapons-grade annoyingness. And all the while we had the world focused on Iraq. If you think carols are annoying now, try listen to them in Dutch and German... For many weeks, leading up to an all-out siege on Christmas day.

But its fair enough. As my Aunt said, it is so miserable during winter in this part of the world, you have to make up for it somehow- in this case, more lights and happier songs than found at Disneyland. In new Zealand we compensate for the delightful summer with the stress of shopping, and having to spend at least 30$ for family members, 50$ for partners and 20$ for friends, unless they got you a good birthday present, or if you suspect they might get you a good present this christmas, unless you agreed to spend less inwhich case you want to go slightly over to get them off guard, or if you make something in which case you can spend half the expected amount plus your age...and so forth. (for the full NZ guide to Christmas gift giving, consult your lawyer). In Holland we go by the philosophy that a dollar saved is a dollar earned, and a present not given is a present recieved. Its a good system.

I was hoping for a white Christmas, as there is never any chance of that in New Zealand, unless of course you go to a private Aukland yachting club. Or so the saying goes... Since I arrived, we've had lousy weather. Grey skies and rain, or if we were lucky, hail, thunder storms and snow. But on Christmas morning, I wanted to wake up, and just like Charlie Brown would do, look out of his window to see a white snowy landscape with all his friends ice skating on a conveniently close-by lake. I wanted to make snow anglels, have snow fights and catch a snowflake on my tongue. But of all my bad luck, it had to be a brilliant sunny day with blue skies.

I have always wondered about that Christmas song- 12 days of Christmas. Was it such a long labour? And where did the other 11 days go? I am one step closer to the 2nd question. The 26th is called "the 2nd Christmas day". But I would sleep much easier if I knew what happened to the other remaining 10 days. Please report any sightings to your local authority. But I am happy that the 2nd day of Christmas has been found, scratched but otherwise unharmed. Another day to enjoy time with family, good food and of course, carols. It had better be horrible weather.

I've just recently earned myself a degree in Art History, which is- to be perfectly honest- basically a degree in looking at pictures. The only problem was that during my studies, I never actually saw any real art. I am a classic textbook graduate. I've learnt everything though photographs of paintings. To some people this may seem like only a minor thing, but it is very similar to becoming a qualified surgeon by dissecting teddy bears. It just is not the real thing.

That was a major drawback of studying in New Zealand. Art just doesn't exist on the same level. It just isn't considered important enough. For example, next year the Art department at my university will have 20 staff laid off becuase they don't bring in money like other subjects do. By this they mean that Art doesn't bring foreign students in, but why would anyone come to New Zealand to study art? Especially after seeing a little bit of Europe. You often hear the phrase "heaps of culture" thrown around in New Zealand. This seems to me a phrase similar to speaking "good england". I know I'm being unfair to New Zealand, but after everything I saw yesterday, you'll have to figive me.

See, after two years of borrowing hundreds of books and looking at reproductions, it was beyond exciting to have the opportunity to see art in the flesh. (because art is alive, a living, breathing, feeling, immortal object). Within one day in one city in three museums, I feel like I learnt more than in my whole degree. There is just so much to see, and even more to be seen. Sure there were famous artists that everyone shouldve heard of (Rembrandt, Rubens, Vermeer, Mondrain), but that is really only scratching the surface. There was an amazing exhibition of Finnish art (i.e. the art from the country Finland, not the end of all art). I mean, who knew that Finland had art, or even people for that matter? Even the tiny streets alongside the canals, paved with tiny bricks, watched over by 500 year old buildings and churches. They all have a story to tell, and deserve to be wandered just the same as the museums. Not that it was ever in doubt, but I know now that there wont be a boring day in Holland.
Tomorrow I'll be going to Germany.

They say that getting there is half the fun. I say it had better damnwell be considering the cost, which by the way I´m not paying for, thank you very much. When it comes to long distance flights, most people complain about the leg room, the small meals, the tiny tv screens, the computer games which don´t work, the jet lag, and the obese man who spills over into your seat. But I enjoy travel. I enjoy travelling, and everything associated with it. (except the obese man). Travelling is one of those things that gives birth to those priceless moments. Call me a washed up stand-up, but customs was very entertaining. I put my bag though the x-ray and passed through the metal detector at Aukland, and the red lights went off. So, I began taking off my belt and watch, not that they contain any actual metal, and went back and forth a few times. I wasnt expecting to see this many red lights until Amsterdam. Anyways, I managed to slip through without getting the rubber glove treatment, but I was asked to come to special table. The customs officer placed my carry on luggage at the other end of the table, and said to me: "Theres a knife in you bag, isn´t there?". Before I had time to call him an anti-dutchite, he produced from my bag a knife that looked almost identical to the ones we have at home. It turns out it was my nutella knife, which I couldve used to subdue the pilot with a overdose of B-vitamins with the goodness of hazelnuts and whole milk. So unfortunately I was unable to smuggle a knife on board an International flight.

Customs is much less interesting in Europe, and to be honest, doesnt inspire much confidence in the immigration service. It was just a matter of flashing your passport, and choosing the line which wont inspect your luggage. I guess if you´re stupid enough to elect to have your luggage rummaged through by strangers you wont be allowed through. But also, I guess, why would you even smuggle drugs into Holland?

But Holland is nice. The trip so far has been a bit of a P.R. excercise: shaking hands, smiling and small talk. Its the beginning of a political career. Really though, its been great to be back. Although, sometimes it is confusing, and I keep thinking I´m not in holland but the north pole. Sure, they have St. Nickolas day at the start of December, but to see the extent the dutch go to celebrate Christmas is incredible. Of course, Holland is situated a only few hundred kilometers from Germany- the birthplace of the Tannenbaum, so naturally Holland is into this tradition too. And its not the pathetic, limp and sparesly decorated christmas trees found in New Zealand, (which are charming in their own way, but lets face it- crap). But dutch Christmas trees are elaborately yet tastefully decorated to celebrate the spirit of christmas while fitting into the interior decorative scheme. And this commitment to celebrating chrismas is brought outside, where everyone can enjoy it. Walking down an average neighbourhood in the quaint town of Twello, easily over half the houses had chrismas lights, light up santa´s and snowmen, outdoor christmas trees with equally stunning decoration, flocks of real reindeer e.c.t. Even in an old town, a house on the 3rd floor had an outdoor christmas tree dangling from the window. In fact, the only giveaway that this is not the north pole, is that the dutch are much too tall.

It also snowed the other day, adding to the nationwide christmas theme. Unfortunately for me, I hear that most people are so committed to decorating that they all to often neglect the all-important christmas presents. I guess that is the price you pay for a christmas atmosphere. I´m still wondering if it is a price worth paying.

Its true what they say, that the excitement begins much before you even start travelling. (I'm assuming that someone has said this before). I cannot even begin to describe the excitement I felt today when counting how many pairs of underwear I would need. But there has also been some negative excitement. That is, the racial persecution that still exists in 21st century New Zealand towards the Dutch. Even though I swore my allegience to the queen, and have taken thousands of dollars from the New Zealand government, I am still victimised by blatant "anti-dutchism" by the authorities. I need a special sticker in my passport from Immigration or else I wont be allowed back into the country. Immigration! Bringing up painful memories of my immigrant history. It was also painful for the hefty price of 50$ for a colourful shiny sticker. Are Dutch people really such a security risk? The only evil Dutch person in the history of the world was Goldmember (and no, before you ask, that is not how dutch people talk. They sound much sillier). So, in the spirit of the New Zealand way of life, I am going to organise a peaceful protest march towards parliament to promote anti "anti-dutchism" in New Zealand. Although, from what I hear about Dutch people, a Dutch protest march will probably be done on bicycles. But I'm already starting to wonder if New Zealanders shouldn't have the reputation for being weird.

Part 1: before the beginning

As you may be aware, I am Dutch (please hold your applause, pity, or insults until later). I've often blamed many things on this curious fact. Such as: being more vulnerable to the harsh rays of the sun than an ice cube (not the rapper, but an actual ice cube). Anyway, my point is, I've never really known what being Dutch means. Is it some exclusive club, or is it something (like Catholicism) that to many people doesnt mean anything unless there is a very special occasion (your own funeral)?

This is one reason why I am soon embarking on a journey to the other side of the world; to meet family I never knew, to rediscover the rich culture, and to find the meaning of being Dutch, all without spending very much.

Ha, the classic Dutch joke. But seriously, I really hope that the "tight-ass" dutch stereotype is a false one, because I will be in Holland over the all important Christmas season, and I have 17 years of Christmas presents to redeem. Lets just say that, atop of my wishlist is "a large suitcase to haul back my loot."

Of course there are several other reasons for going to Holland. These include, but are not limited to:

• Avoiding the sun's harsh cancer-causing rays in the southern hemisphere
• I would rather be unemployed in Europe than unemployed in New Zealand
• To experience the excitement and pleasures of international travel, customs and long distance flights (including a 14 hour flight, during which time, exacly one meal will be served. I may have to resort to eating other passengers. Hopefully we will be flying over the airspace of a country where cannibalism is legal. China for example)
• To relearn the Dutch language, and the subtle nuances of meaning (for example, the almost imperceptable difference between "I'm going to sleep in tomorrow" or "I'm going to die tomorrow").
• To have something to write about again.

After a year in Japan it became clear that a simple change of scenery is all it that is needed to see things in a whole different light, and blind everyone I knew with it. Not wishing to repeat the "inbox abuse", for which I may one day be put to trial for (after Suddam is let off on a "technicallity"), I've set up this web log (or, apparently, as its known by trekkies and similar peoples: a "blog"). Although I may be of the computer generation, my technical expertise stops at bashing a pair of batteries together to get a few more hours of life out of them (try it, it really does work). So this whole weblog business is pretty overwhelming. Its quite embarrassing considering that my father has already made his own website. But I've realised that, gone are the days of the bulk mail: the crying baby that noone feeds or changes.

So, here I will write of my travels, and I will also endevour to educate about the wonderful country that most people know as "Danish-land". This shows the level of misunderstanding about my home country, which is of course called "Dutchland". So tune in as I am disowned (voted off) by different family members every week, and armed with an almighty B.A. degree take on the country which found New Zealand but decided to hurry back home. If that is any indication, Holland will be a great two months.