Welcome to the Neighbourhood, you Insignificant Little Man!


My name is Ruben, and I live in an asylum centre. I live in a large building of ten apartments, each apartment housing four people, and there are 11 other identical buildings. The anonymity of the immigrant.

To be more accurate, I live in an ex-asylum centre. It is now used as student housing. This says one of two things:
A) Holland treats its students badly
B) Holland treats its asylum seekers too well

Or, more optimistically, Holland treats all people equally. Which is really unfair (to me). I mean, in Australia, they send refugees into the desert. And here they (used to) give them adequate housing? I'm outraged. But it's an ideal place for students, being close to the city and the University and other higher education campuses of Leiden. And since there is a shortage of student accommodation, I think the extra 600 rooms really helps. Also, it is comparatively safe, in terms of burglaries. They say that because everyone is a student, there is an element of self policing. However, I know the real reason. Meet our neighbour.

I like to call him "Junior". I mean, you wouldn't mess with a 100-foot man either. Do Not piss him off, or this will happen:



It is a new museum which "takes you on a journey through the human body", which I guess makes you poo. On that photo, my apartment is the house on 2nd floor on the far right. We have a 'unique' view from the kitchen, one would say.

Inside, the standard of living is very "student", which is more than enough. Sure, the floorboards creak, and the paint peels. And although there are continually delayed plans to level the entire student-asylum, I'm happy to call this "home".

A fresh start
2009 is a fresh start for me. A new town, a new apartment, a new purpose in life. In fact, since one flatmate is already called "Ruben", I will probably be assigned a new name too.

Last week, a few days before I had planned to make the move to Leiden, I went to Ikea and got new things for my bedroom. While there, I felt bad, deep down in my stomach. I remember standing in the check-out line, swaying ever so slightly. I applied my own special all-purpose remedy, which is to ignore what my body is telling me, and I made a coffee once I got back. However, I didn't even feel like drinking it. Weird. I went to the bathroom to wash my face, and suddenly I began thowing up. I really opened up the floodgates and I almost filled up the basin with Chilli con Carne. It was impressive as it was gross.

However, as everyone who has ever thrown up their chilli into a basin will know, it does not empty by itself. Having just thrown up, I then needed to roll up my sleeve, and unclog the sink. Five minutes later, I had unclogged the sink, and wrung out the spew into three double-handfuls which I flushed down the toilet. However, I now felt brilliant. Maybe I just ate too much, I thought. I washed my arm, and drank my coffee.

15 minutes later, I tasted "Chili con Coffee", going the other way. I think that is one recipie I will not reccommend to you. That night, I slept next to a bucket, which got a lot of use. It was clear that something was not right. The next morning, I was 5kg lighter than the day before, and I could hardly eat the entire day. There was a sickness going around in Holland, and people affected were usually bed-ridden for 4-5 days. I had to come to terms with delaying my move for another week.

But Lo! I made a miraculous recovery, and made the move as planed. It turns out, all it was my stomach wanted a fresh start for my new life too. Nothing more. I think there was supposed to be a moral to this story, but I can't be sure. Was it:

A) Do not, under any circumstances make or eat Chilli con Coffee (Unless it's a dare).
B) Do not, under any circumstances say or write the word "Lo". (Unless it's a dare, or you want to look like a Lord of the Rings geek.)
C) If you throw up, you might well be sick.
D) A fresh start can sometimes be gross.

I'm glad we all learnt something.Where I am making my fresh start.

Ice

Listen good children, gather close and listen to grandpappy Ruben's story about when it was so cold the dikes turned as hard as concrete, and we strapped funny looking shoes to our feet and tried not to fall over...

Even for people living in Holland for a long time, this has been an exceptionally cold year. And stunningly beautiful. But I won't bore you with trying to describe it with those "wordy" things. Not when my camera came out with photos like these.

I went for a long walk with Bacchus. I took a walk out here to a future highway, because this dog listens to your commands as well as a duck. I could take him off the leash for a while. However, a Duck wouldn't chase after a jogger, bite him in the leg, and then run away from you.





I went to Den Haag, and found myself on the 7th floor of a building. From there, I saw something I haven't seen in 6 months: The sea. A horizon. A beach. It was the beach of the famously beautiful and infamously unpronounceable "Scheveningen". I had to go there. I just had to. I was drawn to it like a horsefly to, well... you know...

When there is ice on the beach, you know it is cold. You may recall the very first photo of me ice skating. 5 years ago, I had gone ice skating for about an hour on a date, but otherwise, I was very new to it. However, again, I took to it like a horsefly. It is a sport- nay- an art of grace, style, flowing beauty. I think I did it justice.

This Ice Ballet, is an Interpretative Sumo Dance inspired by Tom and Jerry.

Labouring through another New Year

The defining feature of an immigrant job is this "Jobs that no one else wants to do". And what kind of citizen would want to work on the most festive day of the year?

For me, I have never really enjoyed New Year's night particularly more than, say, a Friday night. The worst New Year's ever, was 3 years ago when I was on holiday here in Holland. Back then, I explained how festive the Dutch can be. Join me in this nostalgic flashback... flashback... back... ck...

" Sunday, January 01, 2006

I wish you all a happy new year, and I hope you had a good New Years´celebration. Before I start, I want to say that, I am seldom, if ever, serious when writing (sortof like doctors when they write out prescriptions). But my point is, what follows is completely serious. There are many stereotypes about dutch people, and all of them are that they are weird. This is simply not true. They are fucking crazy. (I also seldom, if ever, swear, but I´m already breaking my first rule). Now you might remember my little spiel about the Dutch being obsessed with annoying flashing lights and child-droppingly cheezy Christmas songs, but even these have a certain charm to it. When it comes to New Years, however, The Dutch turn into lunatics.

Okay, I dont literally mean all the Dutch are lunatics, just the ones who spent a combined estimated 70 million Euros worth of fireworks (roughly 140 million NZ dollars) , and let them all off outside my window. The reason for my agitation could be the fact that on New Years eve, by some torturous turn of murphy´s law, I woke up feeling as sick as I´ve been in years. I was bedridden and just needed to sleep, but this had to be the worst day possible to get have a stinging headache. Now, 70 million Euros worth of fireworks wouldnt be a huge problem in, say the Australian outback. But Holland is a matchbox of a country, with I´ve heard, one of the highest population densities in the world.

70 million Euros worth of fireworks also wouldnt be a problem if they was, say, 580 million sparklers. But oh no. The Dutch seem to prefer fireworks with a lot of noise. See, the fireworks in New Zealand just fart out a few different colours, but in Holland... Well, lets just say that of of that 70 million, 20 million is thought to have been spent on illegal fireworks. Fireworks designed by the Chinese, terrorists, or some crazy kids like the ones found by police with a garden shed full of "New Years celebrations" that could´ve made Holland on average one more metre below sea level.

It also wouldn´t have been so bad if the 70 million dollars worth of fireworks all went into the air at the same time. It might sound a little bit crazy, but perhaps we could agree on, say, midnight? Im not exactly what the law says about letting off fireworks in Holland, but there is only a few hours on New Years day. Of course, it would would be stupid to set off fireworks during the daytime anyway. Right?

Well, far be it from me to say what is stupid. All I know is, I woke up in the morning sick as anything, to the sound of constant explosions. There were gangs or roving youths, thugs dragging huge santa-like bags of explosives around, and letting them off as quickly as they could. (For all purposes sake it would be more convenient to ask America to do another pre-emptive strike on our behalf, but I wont go there). I am not exaggerating when saying that I doubt there was 20 seconds that went by that I couldn´t hear explosions. This went on from 9am to well after midnight. It honestly sounded like a warzone. This made for a very productive day of bed rest.

Luckily, there were some people in Holland who can read the time, and from midnight to 12:30 there was a magnificent amateur light (and noise) show, in my gradad´s usually peaceful neighbourhood, and beyond into Rotterdam. This gradually died down, and by 2am, there were momentary silences that interupted the noise of explosions.

To give a general idea: The forecast for New Years day was overcast, 7 degrees and fog due to firework smoke. All the post boxes in the country were nailed shut for the last few days because in previous years thousands had been blown up. And generally it was a peaceful celebration with only 3 deaths in Rotterdam. So it has been a very interesting (and/or Dutch) New Years. And now that the fog, the ringing in my ears, my headache and my cynicism has gone away, I wish you all the best for 2006. "

The situation in Holland has not improved in the last 3 years. Each year, 5 million more euros are spent on fireworks. Politicians decided that it would be a good idea to allow people to start letting off fireworks from 10am. Nothing like the smell of napalm in the morning, right? It has turned into the one night of guilt-free lawlessness. Last year, 23 schools were vandalised and burned. Hundreds of cars were destroyed. Millions of old people and house-pets cower in fear. We bought drugs for the house dog, because otherwise it goes insane for the entire day. At least someone would have a great New Years. Tonight, I was going to work as a security guard. I was going to stop the carnage, once and for all.

Well, I obviously don't have any training in security or self-defence, and I don't exactly have an imposing physique. But I was assured that they would give me a radio. That'll show those bastards! I went to the small town of Zoetermeer and the security company escorted me to my post. I met a bar owner, who gave me the key to the premises and proceeded to show me the fridge, how to make coffee, how to use the TV. Me and my partner basically just had to make the bar look occupied, so that the vandals wouldn't blow it up. However, we also had to occasionally walk around outside through a small shopping mall and train station to report damage, and give a security presence. We had snazzy yellow reflective vests with the security company name on it.

So, my partner and I put on the jackets, brought the radio along and took our first walk at 9pm. There were already constant blasts to be heard, but few in our actual area. Then a car stopped and rolled its windows down. It was a police car. He told us that A) the yellow uniforms would make us a target for the "firework enthusiasts". (As in, they are known to sometimes pick fights with police or fire fighters, so imagine what they'd do to quasi-authority figures), and B) These vests are highly flammable. It's nice to know that the security company cares for its temporary employees. So, on the policeman's advice, we did not go outside wearing the vests any longer.

Which is good. We felt un-safe enough as it was. These kids are the simply smaller versions of the fuckhead football hooligans. Over the course of the night, we witnessed much idioticy. (and a spectacular New Year's fireworks show.)

In the park next to our bar, a large group of kids set a tent on fire. They kept throwing things on- anything they could pick up. It turned into a great big bonfire, under a tree and near a whole group of houses. I had the frame of mind to take a picture. Observe the two people under the tree, and the one in the tree, tieing up a string of Chinese fireworks. We radiod in, but we did not see any police or firemen.

On a patrol through the shopping mall at 1am, we passed a bakery with the windows smashed. The tills had been emptied. I mean, how dumb do you have to be? There won't be any money in there! If you're going to be a robber, at least do it right. Rob it as the owner is closing up! Do I have to explain everything? My partner started radioing in, and I noticed some youths approaching us. One saw my partner had a radio and turned back to his friends and gave some very complicated gang-signs. Holy shit, I was ready to fight us out of there, when he told us "my friend is deaf". That explained the sign language, but I'm sure those kids weren't hanging around here to help old ladies cross the road. Maybe the kid is deaf because of the fireworks. I respectfully reserve my sympathy.

At the bar, we made use of the box full of food, and the drinks. We watched TV, my partner practiced break dancing on the floor, and I played darts. At times, it did not feel like I was working- the best type of work.

However, as you can see on the clock in the first photo, it is almost 6am. Staying up this late without extremely loud music is difficult. Coffee can only take you so far. The last hour was so incredibly long, even the firework enthusiasts had gone to sleep. I tried keeping awake by riding around the bar in the shopping trolleys that were left inside, presumably so people wouldn't blow them up. In all, we had a relatively quiet night. According to our radio, on the other side of town some kids were trying to destroy a public swimming pool.

Finally a guy from the security came to pick us up. He drove us through the streets, over piles of smouldering firework rubble to a train station. I caught the first train, to change over. Unfortunately for me, this line had been stopped for the entire day, and I had to re-route and train back the other way. It was more unfortunate for the 19 year old who was run over by the train. According to the newspaper, it was a tragic accident that happened when he was apparently doing something as innocent as going to "observe" a fight at a train station. Is it wrong to reserve my sympathy?

Having seen what I've seen, I have been hardened to the casualties of this self-fulfilling, self-destructive, target-less warzone. Yes, Holland certainly knows how to start a new year on a low note. Now that the streets have been cleaned of the red firework-paper remains, and the smoke has cleared, the year can only get better. Especially since I started the year with a pay-cheque.