The living situation

I live in the town of Lent which is in the Dutch municipality of Nijmegen. The flats for students are a collection of buildings from A to H which each houses about 60 students. The buildings are pictured below – two stories with four-person flats along the top and bottom. The word flat is completely synonymous with apartment; four people share a small living room, kitchen and bathroom. The buildings are really old and, according to the rumors, will be torn down within the next few years. We have no oven or microwave in the kitchen, but my flatmates and I split the cost for a 30-euro toaster oven today. We opened it as a flat and all turned it on together -- Even if the four of us collectively conceived a baby it wouldn't receive more love than our new appliance. But, even the lack of a toaster oven and microwave in the past few weeks hasn't made cooking incredibly difficult. We’ve all become more resourceful since moving into flats without basic appliances; yesterday Javi taught me how to bake a frozen pizza in a saucepan (who knew?).

My room

Living room

Kitchen

There is a dorm which is much closer to campus, but about 15 people share a kitchen and it doesn’t have wifi. For both of those reasons, and because I get along with my flatmates swimmingly, I am glad to be in Lent. About the wifi – I am so glad I brought my iPhone! Although it doesn’t work without internet, even sparse internet in the city would make the phone worth having. I can talk to most of my friends back home and tell my mom I haven’t been kidnapped or (worse) become a weed addict. 

The first picture is my building from the front, and the second picture is a sunrise outside the back of our flat.  

Feestbeest

On Sunday, almost a week ago, my friends and I went to Maastricht in the southern part of the Netherlands. We went for the day to enjoy Carnival, which is celebrated in various parts of northern Europe. The festivities last anywhere from three days to a week, depending on the region of Europe. Many people have work off and schools close too - my university closed for Monday and Tuesday. There were Carnival celebrations in Nijmegen, but the parties and festivities are “better” towards Germany – so naturally, that’s the direction we headed.

Hundreds of years ago, Catholics from Italy began organizing a huge festival to celebrate the beginning of Lent. They called it Carnevale, the translation of which means “to put away the meat.” Eventually the massive party spread to France, Spain and other European countries. The purpose of Carnival has moved away from its religious background and now the festival celebrates life (and in my opinion, alcohol) in multiple European countries. All the information above I found on various Internet websites – no guarantee this information is correct.

On the day of the celebration I woke up and ate a massive breakfast to avoid being hungry and paying for food in Maastricht (which didn’t work as well as I hoped) and in true Smith fashion, I also packed a sandwich. One of the stores in the City Center has a deal for train tickets so for 14 euros you can buy a ticket to take you on as many trains as you want for an entire day. This is perfect for day trips because more often than not, a one-way ticket to where you want to go is more than 14 euros. To get to Maastricht, the tickets are 17 euros one way. So the 14-euro tickets saved us quite a bunch of money – you can do the math.

The trains were packed with people in all sorts of costumes! We were already dressed up and joined the pack like true Europeans. On the way there an elderly couple taught me my favorite Dutch word thus far: feestbeest (pronounced FAY-st-BAY-st). It means “party animal.”

There are laws in most of Europe which prohibit open containers and drinking in public. However, during Carnival all those rules evaporate and alcohol runs like water. Some bars have specials and some jack up the prices, but no matter what, all the bars are packed. I would attribute this mostly to the -10 weather (due to the combination of temperature and wind chill), but nonetheless – the pubs and bars were all at capacity Sunday in Maastricht.

Interestingly, the city had public urinals for the festival. I mean literally public. The urinals looked like giant plastic bins with indents in four sides so four people could pee at the same time. Naturally, the boys we were with found this extremely amusing and couldn't wait to pee (with no legal consequences) in the middle of the party. Way too many times that day I accidentally locked eyes with men while they were urinating. There was also no soap or any sort of hand cleaner. Needless to say, I made the boys I knew (and some that I didn't) use an excessive amount of my hand sanitizer before walking away. It was also really amusing when someone in a dramatic costume used the urinals... like the guy below. This poor drunk devil struggled for about ten minutes before maneuvering into a position where he could actually pee into the drain.

We went home exhausted that night after hours of drinking, partying and eating -- an incredible day for everyone who participated. 

I want to ride my bicycle...I want to ride my bike.

For added ambiance while you read this post... 

I live in a complex in the town of Lent which is about 30 minutes from the university and 10 minutes from the city center with all the stores and restaurants. I learned quickly that any amount of time estimated to get somewhere assumes that you are riding a bicycle. In all seriousness, you could not survive in this city without owning a working bike. I would spend at least an hour walking to the University, not to mention coming home. Also, every European I have talked to abbreviates University to “Uni” but I have yet to adjust to that because I can’t stop picturing a unibrow. 

To get to the city, I bike over a big bridge which is also used by trains. There is a separate bridge for cars - it's the silver arc in the background of the picture on the left. I don’t mind the weather here that much, even the cold, but wind makes biking miserable. The Lent bridge (I’m not sure if that’s the real name but it’s what the students call it), where I took all the pictures below, is a death trap on windy days.

Snow'n on the bridge

Icy river

B-E-A-utiful city

The bridge spits me out by the train station which feeds into many different bike paths to campus. There aren’t many hills, but each way has one or two and that’s often how I pick my route. Example: Do I feel like going up a hill on the way to campus or on the way home? More often than not, I pick the first option. Kind of like the bad-news-first outlook.

Bike paths line either side of every road and drivers (of cars) are very respectful; they yield constantly to bikers and even offer the right-of-way. Bike lanes work like car lanes. You always drive on the right side of the road so that faster bikers can pass on the left. Before passing someone, I believe the courteous move is to ring the small bell on the handlebars to signal your approach. I haven’t ever  verbally corroborated this theory, but it coincides with my monkey-see-monkey-do philosophy I’ve adopted since moving to Europe. 

I fall off my bike quite a lot. When I tried to buy a bike, the shop didn't have bikes short enough for me (Dutch people are very tall) and the owner tried to sell me a kids bike. I refused for no good reason and now ride a bike which is slightly too tall for me -- aka I wobble over. I don't usually fall completely, I just do a couple stutter steps and sometimes a few quick running leaps to catch myself and my bike before we both hit the pavement. My flatmate Harry made me laugh so hard I fell on the ground, I've skidded in snow and slush quite a few times, and if I try to put my glove on while riding I'm sure to topple over. I have yet to sneeze, but I'm praying I don't because I know I'll eat it. 

According to a police officer here, one million bikes get stolen each year. I bought a lock for my bike but if someone really wants to steal it, cutting the lock won’t be very difficult. Also, bikes are required to have lights for night driving. If you are caught without lights on your bike during nighttime hours, you have to pay a 50-euro fine. Yikes! 

And finally, a few of the countless bike racks within the Netherlands!

Me and my life-line

The beginning!

After a crazy week, and many internet problems, I am finally back online. I promise to blog more frequently!

Let's start from the beginning...

I arrived in Amsterdam at about seven in the morning. The city was still dark which was strange only because (for some unknown reason) I expected it to be light. I took a train from the Amsterdam airport into Nijmegen and then took a taxi to a Bed and Breakfast. Although I slept briefly on the plane, I knew napping was crucial to making it through the day. I took about an hour long nap and forced myself out of bed to enroll in orientation.

Long story short -- orientation week consisted of a few activities, assistance with practical necessities (like getting a bike and a phone) and finally, parties. We were taken to different bars, organized pub crawls, and various other venues. If you're wondering, I still haven't been to a coffee shop. 

I don’t think I ate a good meal until about five days after I arrived in Europe. We had a few Dutch dinners during orientation but I didn’t enjoy the food and I was so overwhelmed by my surroundings that I really wasn’t hungry. This is not to say that I haven’t been enjoying myself or that I have been consumed by worry and negativity – but more so that I had prioritized a million other things before eating.

Along with most mental impositions, I believe that jet lag is almost entirely psychological. With the exception of the first day, I really had no roll-over effects from the plane ride. I refused to think about what time it was back home in NC, and I had no problem with the timing of my meals because of the problem above. I do believe with a significant time change the key is to deprive yourself of sleep so that the first day – wherever you are going – you can fall asleep at any time. I think most people expect jet lag to have such a strong effect, that it does.

I stayed at a Bed and Breakfast the first few nights because my room was not available. On Friday morning, I moved into my flat. I am living with a girl named Janii from the Czech Republic, Javier from Spain and Connor from England. Janii is finishing her last year of school and will have her masters in the spring. She is very welcoming and kind, a sort of mother-figure (unless she is going out). Connor makes himself available whenever I need anything and went out of his way the first few days to make me comfortable. The first night I moved in, Connor laughingly told me about his ignorance of personal space. Needless to say, we get along wonderfully. In a ridiculous string of luck, Connor has a car – in a complex of several hundred students, I think less than ten have a car. He rarely uses it because of fuel and parking costs, however, he graciously offered to take me shopping for my first round of groceries. 

More on Javi (who has insisted I call him Harry) later.... 

Almost all Dutch people speak English. I am entirely grateful for this, however, I wrongly assumed that most written directions (signs, menus etc.) would have an English translation. The most frustrating part of this is probably that I cannot understand instructions to cook food and nutrition information. To compensate, I am very cautious about the meat I eat.

An interesting note: Contrary to the US, where I can easily identify the sexual orientation of most men, it is difficult to do the same here. The men dress fashionably and carry themselves with a lighter, less meaty look that is often indicative of homosexual men in the states. As my friend Carter told me a few hours ago – he spent all night in the club playing the game “gay or European?”