AWOL

OK, so I haven't posted much lately - to say I have been super-busy might be a slight overstatement, but I have definately been caught up in all kind of stuff that comes with settling in a weird place like this. Moving to another apartment. Getting paperwork done with the bank. Getting driving lessons. Going to the gym. Yea, all lame excuses, but anyway.

Just for continuity's sake, I'm posting two pictures. The first is the charming building I live in. And, as it's holiday season, one of the christmas decorations on Tavisuplebis Moedani (Freedom Square).

My building; my flat is on the 4th floor (3rd floor European counting) right underneath the brown DIY balcony-extention.

Turning the St. George statue into something vaguely resembling a christmas tree on Tavisupleba.

The Giant Sand Castle

If you have one and-a-half hour to spend in Barcelona, what are you gonna see? I opted for the Sagrada Familia - Gaudi's mega project, still under construction after 90 years.

Now this thing is weird. It looks like some giant sand castle made by some overenthousiastic wonder kid.


Still under construction - the whole thing is full of strange elements like the fruity colored bulbs on top of the left wing arches (click to zoom).

The tower looks more like a minaret than a church tower.


Now what is this thing? This looks like some Stalinist thing in a dodgy ex-Soviet republic.


From the distance the thing makes more sense. And you can't really say it's ugly anyway.

Trainspotting

On my way to the airport I stumbled upon the celebration of the 100th anniversary of the Haarlem central station. For the occasion they pulled some historic trains out and had people in 1890's clothes walking the platforms.


The movie is a 1920's 'Blokkendoos' EMU with a 1200 series at the end.




Old machines rock.

How to ruin a perfectly fine place

Last July I travelled to Bulgaria, as a friend of mine was holidaymaking over there and I thought it would be fun to drop by. After sleeping off the hangover from the Gentse Feesten (see previous post) I continued on to Brussels and Paris and took a snail munchers flight (Air France, the bastards that took over our national pride, the KLM) from there to Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria.

The beautiful Bulgarian countryside

After arriving in Sofia, I took a train all the way across the country to Burgas in order to end up about 40 clicks south of there in the holiday resort called Sunny Beach. The fact that the place only had an English name should've been a sign on the wall, but after the travel ordeals from the days before I didn't quite put 1 and 1 together.

Did I mention it was beautiful?

Sunny Beach is an absolutely fucking horrible place. It's filled with cheap apartment complexes and resorts, aimed at the package holiday people from Holland, Britain, Scandinavia and, sadly, Russia. Now those people aren't usually the friendliest, civillized people but this was really something.

Delapitated Soviet-era industries are found throughout the countryside

Upon arrival, I went out with my friends to a place called "the Flying Dutchman". Uh oh. The place was filled with Dutch working-class proletariat aged 16-23 gulping down huge quantities of lager. The joint played only the worst of the worst of Dutch-language music and of course everybody sung along until their lungs bursted. Now I'm no clubber, or good at drinking for that matter. That being said, I quickly realised I had to get drunk and stay drunk in order to retain at least some appreciation of the place.

Sign in Sunny Beach, "be happy in Bulgaria". Sure, any other place in Bulgaria would do just fine.

How unlike the rest of Bulgaria.

The group of people I visited took a package holiday and were flown in by charter flight to Burgas airport. By taking the train across the country I got a view of the real Bulgaria that most people at Sunny Beach don't even know existed. The countryside is beautiful, with endless sunflower fields, mountains, sleepy villages and old fashioned sheperds who actually wove as the train passed by. Truly another century.

The sunflower fields

Apart from that the countryside is also poor as hell. In Georgia I've seen a horse cart once. In Bulgaria it seems to be the preferred method of transport. I seriously don't know what this country is doing in the EU. It seemed poorer and less developed than the Ukraine or Georgia.

NOW I'm feeling at home :)

The Sunny Beach resort was filled with gypsies and other kinds of scum trying to rip off western tourists. Literally everybody tried to rip you off with something there. Taxi's were even more expensive than in Holland. In Sofia taxi's are metered and charge 0,70 Lev for a kilometer (about 0,35 euro's). But in Sunny Beach you'd pay 30 Lev for a three mile ride down to the clubs (about 15 euro's).

Interior of a really cool beach club in Sunny Beach, for some reason most western tourists went 'downtown' to the clubs instead of this chilled-out place with waitresses straight out of a fashion magazine.

Some 2 days after my arrival we went to a place called the "Heineken House". The name sounded alarming but I chose to tag along anyway. The name didn't say too much - it was exactly as I imagined it to be. Hordes of drunken Dutch, Dutch beer and Dutch music. Geez.

My 'fellow' countrymen enjoying their holidays at the "Heineken House"

After three days I had enough and went out. The last day was nice actually, going to the beach located a mere 800 meters from the apartment building (for some reason the people at the apartment hadn't found this beach in the 10 days they were there already). I love the Black Sea. It doesn't have any decent waves, but the water is very warm and slightly less salty than other seas making it excellent for swimming.

The beach, with a view on a peninsula with a semi-authentic town

Taking a domestic flight from Burgas to Sofia with a stopover in Varna I connected to the AirSnailmunchers flight back to Paris, in order to miss my connection at CDG and not being helped a single inch further by the airline staff. When I informed the flight attendant (some really creepy French dude) that I was about to miss my connection he just said 'ai ai ai' and continued walking down the aisle.

Now this is what Bulgaria looks like

Air France, I will never set foot on any of your crappy flights again. And keep those paws off KLM.

Just for the record, and for the sake of not pissing off the group of people whose hospitality I enjoyed; I really did have fun. Definately a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Good to experience it once, but I'll never do it again.

Kickin' it up in Gent

Through the Netherlands flows the great Rhine delta, splitting the country in the northern, Calvinist, part and the southern, Catholic part. This line is a dividing line in more ways than one. People south of the rivers are just, well, different. The accent is just one of the ways this expresses itself. Prime example is the carnaval. The south of the country completely shuts down for a week in February, while in the north it really seems absolutely nothing is happening (which mostly is the case, actually)

View from the VIP stage

However, south of the south of the Netherlands is another dividing line. It's called the Belgian border. The Belgians are often the butt of Dutch jokes (how many Belgians does it take to screw in a light bulb?) but I have a weak spot for them. Their accent is cute. And as long as you're not working with them, they are very nice people. Much more polite and considerate than the potato farmers in the north.

Gent has canals as well

Last July I went to Gent (Ghent) to attend the 'Gentse Feesten', or Ghent Parties. The whole city centre is transformed into one big party ground, with stages and performances on literally every square. On invitation of one of my Belgian colleagues me and a mate of mine went down to Gent to see what the fuss was about and down a pint or two.

The Pole Pole stage at night

Arriving at the Gent Parties, I got VIP tickets to the Pole Pole stage (thanks Johan!) and took in the atmosphere. Gent is very beautiful, I have to admit I underestimated the place. Apart from the magnificent scenery, it was a real party. Real in the sense of a genuine party vibe going on, without any of the agressiveness and fake-heartedness that usually accompanies these kind of events in the north.

Flemish logic/humor on a sign indicating a handicapped parking spot: "If you take my parking spot, take my handicap as well!"

Even though I'd never want to live there, I can only say that the northern clay munchers have definately something to learn from our southern neighbours.

The Skies over Holland

The skies over Holland are an ancient favourite of painters, photographers and cloud-staring hippies. And, with reason. I have to admit that, even though I hate the place to my guts, there isn't a single place in the world with more beautiful skies than Holland. The Dutch (or 'Hollandish' would be the adjective here) skies seem higher, larger and with more depth.

Some nice examples:

Kenaustraat


Raaks construction site (former Vestestraat pictured)


Sunset from my window


Sunset over Raaks terrain


Kleverlaan, rainy afternoon


KPN Tower from KPN Lake


Sunset over the former Ripperda cavalry barracks


Another sunset from my window, somewhere in '06


Sunrise from my window


Early evening 7/8 from my window

God Save the Queen

Somewhere in a far-out corner of Europe is a shitty little country below sea level. This patch of mud is headed by the house of Van Oranje-Nassau. Their name inspired the national colour: orange.

Queensday in Amsterdam

Twice on even years and once on odd years*, this entire place turns orange. Orange flags, decorative crap, random things painted orange, orage hair spray-paint, orange outfits, orange everything with the occasional red-white-blue thing to break the Orange Ocean. The national dress-up occasions are usually accompanied by vast amounts of beer, dope, puke and random drunken chants.

Queensday in Amsterdam, boatin' around

So yea, that's how that swamp folk entertains themselves on the few occasions there are. But, let's not confuse the orange-mania with actual patriotism. That's still a dirty word in the Low Countries, and of course only practiced by facsists and reactionary Christian-fundamentalists like Andre Rouvoet (Holland's minister for Youth and Family affairs - yeah, that's actually a ministry).

Queensday in Amsterdam, the "Golden Corner" of the Herengracht

That's why orange is widely accepted as our national colour, relating to the House of Orange and the monarchy. However, the use of the red-white-blue is considered nationalistic and henceforth "not done". Put a Dutch flag on the sleeve of your jacket and you're sure to get a beating by some of the rogue-Xth-generation-immigrants because you're a nazi, neo-fascist, "NSB'er"*, or something else dirty.

Queensday in Amsterdam. This is more of an 'art for art's sake' picture, but it's some rave in a parking garage opposite the Stadhouderskade.

Can't really disagree actually... the people wearing those Dutch flags are mostly wannabe-nazi's. And what kinda douchebag wants to walk around with a Dutch flag in the first place?

* Once a year, April 30th is Queensday, and every two years a World/European Football Championship

* NSB = Nationaal Socialistische Beweging, the Dutch nazi party in the 30's and 40's

Show off stuff

As you all know, whenever there's something like a World Exhibition, a Football World Championship or Olympics, countries try to go the extra mile when it comes to building their prospective cities of the so-called future.

This is the Estaçaõ do Oriente in Lisboa, Portugal. It was built for the 1998 World Exhibition. Even though I'm no fan of contemporary architecture I like this one.

Goin' Kitch in Kiev

Couple of weeks ago in Kiev I was again sorta amazed at the Slavic preferences in terms of colours and the general display of flashyness or impersonated wealth. Personally I think this tendency has its roots in the Eastern Orthodox church, as the churches are the worst of all when it comes to the excessive use of gold, bright colours and decorative thingamajigs.

Kiev is a cool place however with lots to see and a pack of cigarettes costing only 0.60 euros - even cheaper than Georgia. Hotels are very reasonably priced and mostly up to western standards. Transportation is cheap, beer is cheap, woman are cheap. What else could you possibly want.

The Lion's Den

How to escape mass tourism? Easy, look for it in the lion's den: the Canary Islands. There isn't a single European holiday destination that gets more charter flights filled with pale British, Dutch and German tourists. Three weeks later they're flown back as the typical bright-red holiday lobsters you see in the streets of Northern Europe during summer. However, it is actually possible to escape the packed discoteques of the all-inclusive holiday resorts.

Last March I went to Lanzarote, the Sodom & Gomorra of western holiday making, and spent a week in a 300-inhabitant village with no ATM, three buses a day and no hotels.

Lanzarote is the northernmost of the Canary Islands. Politically part of Spain, geologically part of Afrika. The island is basically divided in two parts: the Southern part is urbanised and filled with hotels and tourists (luckily the Russians haven't found this one yet) while the Northern part is a nature reserve. The law states that there aren't any hotels, resorts, urban developments, discos and the like allowed.

The little village of Caleta de Famara has close to nothing, but it does have the Playa the Famara with nice waves and an amazing view. The beach is a bay enclosed by a big rocky mountain on the North side, and open to the Atlantic in a NW direction. Any tourist activity going on completely centers around the playa.

This lead to the development of an illegal-but-tolerated bar, Lenny's, with Amstel on draft the only place to go at night for a beer. When the draft wouldn't pour anymore they switched to Heineken on the bottle. Just as you think you're standing on the edge of the world, you don't have any choice but to drink very ordinary Dutch beer. Damn. I would've settled for that Spanish crap.

A room with a view

If you're ever going to end up in Tbilisi, Georgia - make sure to take the walk up Narikala, a hill overlooking Dzveli Tbilisi (Zveli Tbilisi - Old Tbilisi). On top is an old fortress (or the remnants of it) as it offers a some nice views over the city. On a bright day you can see the peaks of the Greater Caucasus, which are even snow-capped in summer.

Old Tbilisi on the left, the left bank on the right with the Presidential Palace (still) under construction (the Reichstag-like structure with the dome)



The new centre in the background and Old Tbilisi up front.



The TV-tower up on Mtatsminda, through the crenels of Narikala Fortress



Below left some of the little domes of the Sulphur Baths