The period between yesterday evening and today lunch time deserves a post by itself.
A colleague lives in Utrecht. That's because he met a girl, 2 years ago, who studies there. So, when he joined our company and moved to Holland, a few months ago, the choice of the city was natural.
So, he invited some of the few people who haven't left for Christmas holiday. Those were me and 2 more colleagues living in Amsterdam.
The party went to a Greek restaurant (pretty good, not cheap and not expensive).
Then, Stairway To Heaven, a bar where rock music from 60s to 90s was played, and there was also a dance floor. The walls were covered with guitars, that they claimed had been played by famous rockers. There was also a shirt worn by Kurt Cobain, enclosed in a glass box and venerated as a relic.
Unusual things happened when asking for beer. Once, we got 2 bottles of champagne of beer. This means that we got 2 bottles of beer, but they were 75cl each (!), and they looked like bottles of champagne. Then we asked for 1 beer and we got 8. After telling the waiter we needed 1, he told us to pay 1 and keep the others.
The music was good, and it was also funny to look at the drunken people. A girl with no mobile phone started dancing with us, and later she told us that there is no reality and everything is an impression. Or maybe that didn't happen, it was just an impression.
After the closure, we walked towards the station. The train was leaving in 1 minute, and we needed no less than 10 to get to the platform. And the following train was 1:01 hours later. What now? The guy living in Utrecht offered us to sleep at his place. Good!
We walked for a long way in -2°C and got there. He had the Digitenne TV service, so we told him there was a TV channel he didn't know about. What happened next, in a men-only party, can offend older people, moralists and children, so I won't tell.
I will tell what happened after that. He slept on the sofa, while I and the other 2 shared a double bed. 1 of the other 2 didn't realize he was not sleeping under the duvet, and we were...
Time to wake up. We walked to the Wilhelminapark, see previous post. Then we had a nice breakfast at the Park Café Buiten. Even too much: chocolate pie with whipped cream, apple pie with whipped cream (again), croissant, tea, coffee, wrong coffee.
And eventually we got to Amsterdam again. Time to relax. Or not? No. Some Christmas shopping (not enough), and a visit to the Anne Frank house. First time, after more than 2 years here. Why did I wait for so long? (Because the queue was always terrible, and today it was reasonable, that's why) Really moving, chilling. People who only wanted to live a normal life, and tried in all ways possible to do it. Anne Frank wrote that, after the war, she wanted to become a journalist She did not survive the war, but she did become a writer. Or, simply, she didn't realize what a great writer she already was.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Becoming a Northern European
There are already some symptoms. Maybe they don't mean I'm one yet, but maybe they do.
Summer was dismal, little sun, terrible. September was not too bad. Then, the temperature started decreasing, slowly but steadily. Some days ago, in the night ice was forming.
And, this week, for the first time the city woke up under the snow. It didn't last long, in the afternoon it had disappeared already.
The day after, it snowed again, and it stayed.
And today, I spent an unexpectedly nice morning with three colleagues in Utrecht. Wilhelminapark was covered with snow. Families with children had ice skates at their feet, usual for them (maybe), really weird for me.
And the weirdest thing: I and the colleagues walked on water, like Jesus. Well, in the sense that the pond in Wilhelminapark was frozen, and the ice was thick enough it was possible to walk on it. And skate on it. We walked, Dutch people skated.
Ice was making strange noises, like metal sheets. And we didn't know if that was something to worry about... Dutch people were not worried, and therefore we were not either... We should have been: one of my friends was doing the very last step before reaching the land, when the ice broke. Luckily, he was so close to the shore that he fell on the land.
After that, we were so scared we didn't try again. But children were skating, were playing ice hockey, and one of them was hitting the ice surface with his (her?) hockey club. Those Dutch people are scared by nothing!
Conclusion: I am actually enjoying this chilly weather with no rain! Today was especially good, sun and blue sky. Even though I like snow (maybe because I was born in a place where it never snows), I used to suffer incredibly from cold climate. Now I like it. Is it serious, doctor?
Summer was dismal, little sun, terrible. September was not too bad. Then, the temperature started decreasing, slowly but steadily. Some days ago, in the night ice was forming.
And, this week, for the first time the city woke up under the snow. It didn't last long, in the afternoon it had disappeared already.
The day after, it snowed again, and it stayed.
And today, I spent an unexpectedly nice morning with three colleagues in Utrecht. Wilhelminapark was covered with snow. Families with children had ice skates at their feet, usual for them (maybe), really weird for me.
And the weirdest thing: I and the colleagues walked on water, like Jesus. Well, in the sense that the pond in Wilhelminapark was frozen, and the ice was thick enough it was possible to walk on it. And skate on it. We walked, Dutch people skated.
Ice was making strange noises, like metal sheets. And we didn't know if that was something to worry about... Dutch people were not worried, and therefore we were not either... We should have been: one of my friends was doing the very last step before reaching the land, when the ice broke. Luckily, he was so close to the shore that he fell on the land.
After that, we were so scared we didn't try again. But children were skating, were playing ice hockey, and one of them was hitting the ice surface with his (her?) hockey club. Those Dutch people are scared by nothing!
Conclusion: I am actually enjoying this chilly weather with no rain! Today was especially good, sun and blue sky. Even though I like snow (maybe because I was born in a place where it never snows), I used to suffer incredibly from cold climate. Now I like it. Is it serious, doctor?
Company pride
The company I work for does quite a lot to build team spirit. A borrel every month (to be precise, not this month, but I didn't come in December 2005 and 2006, so that's not so bad). A summer party in June, a Christmas party in December.
It works. It is probably cheaper than increase salaries :), and the consequence is that people are, on average, very proud to work for our company. It is good for work and life satisfaction.
This year's Christmas party was better than last year's: the fact that I didn't lose my camera contributes to this. The place was not far from the centre. Food, while not exciting, was better: people were not forced to sit at a table, they could walk around, and at least the meat was not dry. Music was pretty nice, not too much house-techno (I hate it), more commercial music. Not many people went to the relaxed places: that's a pity, since the music became loud and it was difficult to talk to people. And, especially, it was nice to meet people, some after a long time, chat with them, and talk about past, present, and future.
This week, all employees got as a gift one of the latest products. A few hours later, Internet sales sites were flooded by such products being offered for sale.
And, on Friday, move time. The office where I worked for more than two years had become too small, with all the new employees. So, movers came, disassembled desks, packed computers, and made the old office almost empty. In the afternoon, since working was not possible, I and some colleagues visited the new office. It made us proud (again). It's big, spacious, and new. And there's a phone for each employee. We will miss the old office in the very centre of the city, the new one is a little further away from the interesting parts. Yet, it could have been much worse, all those dreary industrial estates that look like ghost cities after 18.00 and in weekends would have been depressing.
It works. It is probably cheaper than increase salaries :), and the consequence is that people are, on average, very proud to work for our company. It is good for work and life satisfaction.
This year's Christmas party was better than last year's: the fact that I didn't lose my camera contributes to this. The place was not far from the centre. Food, while not exciting, was better: people were not forced to sit at a table, they could walk around, and at least the meat was not dry. Music was pretty nice, not too much house-techno (I hate it), more commercial music. Not many people went to the relaxed places: that's a pity, since the music became loud and it was difficult to talk to people. And, especially, it was nice to meet people, some after a long time, chat with them, and talk about past, present, and future.
This week, all employees got as a gift one of the latest products. A few hours later, Internet sales sites were flooded by such products being offered for sale.
And, on Friday, move time. The office where I worked for more than two years had become too small, with all the new employees. So, movers came, disassembled desks, packed computers, and made the old office almost empty. In the afternoon, since working was not possible, I and some colleagues visited the new office. It made us proud (again). It's big, spacious, and new. And there's a phone for each employee. We will miss the old office in the very centre of the city, the new one is a little further away from the interesting parts. Yet, it could have been much worse, all those dreary industrial estates that look like ghost cities after 18.00 and in weekends would have been depressing.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Lookalikes
I've been told by someone, while I was walking away from the office, that I look like Luis Suarez. I wish it was true...
deep-linked from Wikipedia, license GFDL
deep-linked from Wikipedia, license GFDLNot much else. The only thing that makes me happy is to look at the Serie A standings. If looked upside down, of course.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
n8
Saturday last week was n8 day. It was the third onw since I'm here (the first was just 6 days after I arrived), but the first one I took part to.
It is great fun. Many museums are open until 2am, and with one single ticket one can visit them all. Time permitting. Yes, time is the biggest limitation: 7 hours sound like a lot, but, when there are so many museums to visit, they fly. And many people are around, so there can be queues.
My day:
It is great fun. Many museums are open until 2am, and with one single ticket one can visit them all. Time permitting. Yes, time is the biggest limitation: 7 hours sound like a lot, but, when there are so many museums to visit, they fly. And many people are around, so there can be queues.
My day:
- Rijksmuseum
- Van Gogh Museum (only the temporary exhibition about Barcelona, I had already seen the rest)
- De Appel
- failed attempt to get into the Foam, the queue was too long
- city archive (formerly a bank. The former vault of the bank has still steel doors)
- Stedelijk Museum (only the temporary Warhol exhibition, and not even all of it)
- Hortus Botanicus
Every cloud has a silver lining
Rain, rain... The more you see it, the more you should get used to it. Instead, all this rain makes me nostalgic of Italy. Not that in Italy it never rains... just not so often. In most years.
There is only one upside of this. There are lots of rainbows, also due to the variability of the weather, meaning that rain can fall and sun can shine in just minutes. Some days ago, a full bow
was visible from my office's window. And today, another rainbow while I was riding my bike (I was riding my bike while it was raining. Am I becoming Dutch?).
There is only one upside of this. There are lots of rainbows, also due to the variability of the weather, meaning that rain can fall and sun can shine in just minutes. Some days ago, a full bow
was visible from my office's window. And today, another rainbow while I was riding my bike (I was riding my bike while it was raining. Am I becoming Dutch?).
Rainbow between ships in Amsterdam harbour
Monday, October 08, 2007
The land of origin
In less than 2 weeks I'll be in Sardinia, to attend to the marriage of my cousin.
The relationship between each person and his/her land of origin is peculiar. There is a sense of affection and pride, which goes beyond reason and causes.
This relationship is even more difficult to tell for people who left their land of origin early. When I'm in Sardinia, I am a stranger. I left it too early. I know no one. I don't know the places, the habits, the dialect. And, yet, I feel at home. And I ask myself: why shouldn't I stay here? Why did I ever leave? And, at the same time, I would probably be uncomfortable if I came back there to stay.
My cousin and her two brothers have been so important to me. One summer, my mother and my brother were in the hospital, having been run over by a car. I spent that summer with my uncle, my aunt and my cousins. And I always felt part of the family. I never felt any difference between the three siblings and me. Nowadays, I visit my cousins whenever I can. My uncle passed away in April this year. He once said that I was his fourth child.
My friend Massimo gets married the same day. Also in Sardinia. There has been tension between us at times, but he is a real friend. He puts commitment in whatever he does, playing fantasy league and helping homeless people. And he once told me that he first got in touch with HTML because he saw me fiddling with it. I am an HTML rookie and he is the webmaster of several sites.
The relationship between each person and his/her land of origin is peculiar. There is a sense of affection and pride, which goes beyond reason and causes.
This relationship is even more difficult to tell for people who left their land of origin early. When I'm in Sardinia, I am a stranger. I left it too early. I know no one. I don't know the places, the habits, the dialect. And, yet, I feel at home. And I ask myself: why shouldn't I stay here? Why did I ever leave? And, at the same time, I would probably be uncomfortable if I came back there to stay.
My cousin and her two brothers have been so important to me. One summer, my mother and my brother were in the hospital, having been run over by a car. I spent that summer with my uncle, my aunt and my cousins. And I always felt part of the family. I never felt any difference between the three siblings and me. Nowadays, I visit my cousins whenever I can. My uncle passed away in April this year. He once said that I was his fourth child.
My friend Massimo gets married the same day. Also in Sardinia. There has been tension between us at times, but he is a real friend. He puts commitment in whatever he does, playing fantasy league and helping homeless people. And he once told me that he first got in touch with HTML because he saw me fiddling with it. I am an HTML rookie and he is the webmaster of several sites.
I can live with you and I can live without you
Elisa is going back and forth from Italy to here. Now she's in Italy.
So, how do I feel, all alone in my apartment? Well, strange. I don't miss her when she's not here. Yet, it's not bad either when she's here.
Nec tecum nec sine te vivere possum, I can live neither with you nor without you, is a verse about 2000 years old (maybe by Catullus). In my case, it's the opposite.
So, why did that happen? Elisa taught me a lot, including having more self-confidence, and, in general, the importance of relationships with others. Those helped me to be more happy, whatever happens. In short, Elisa taught me not to need her.
Open questions are: is this a good or a bad thing? And how stable is this going to be? The question to the second answer is: not much. Yet, I don't care, because it is stable right now. It's like the initial scene of La Haine: the narrator tells about a guy who, falling from a tall building, repeats to himself, "So far so good... so far so good". By the way, La Haine is one of the first movies I and Elisa saw together.
So, how do I feel, all alone in my apartment? Well, strange. I don't miss her when she's not here. Yet, it's not bad either when she's here.
Nec tecum nec sine te vivere possum, I can live neither with you nor without you, is a verse about 2000 years old (maybe by Catullus). In my case, it's the opposite.
So, why did that happen? Elisa taught me a lot, including having more self-confidence, and, in general, the importance of relationships with others. Those helped me to be more happy, whatever happens. In short, Elisa taught me not to need her.
Open questions are: is this a good or a bad thing? And how stable is this going to be? The question to the second answer is: not much. Yet, I don't care, because it is stable right now. It's like the initial scene of La Haine: the narrator tells about a guy who, falling from a tall building, repeats to himself, "So far so good... so far so good". By the way, La Haine is one of the first movies I and Elisa saw together.
Being ill sucks
End of July, I made friends with the Dutch health system. This system is a nice guy, yet I would have preferred not knowing him...
On a Sunday (the day after the first, and so far the last, concert of The Membro's) I go to Zandvoort. Horrible weather, not the day to go to the beach. And I feel a light pain in my back on the left side. Light, but persistent. It's nothing, it's just because I rode a friend on my bike yesterday, yet it doesn't go. I take an aspirin and go to bed.
Monday, I go to work, and the pain is still there, growing stronger as the hours pass. I phone my personal doctor, telling I am strongly considering going to the hospital. She says not to worry and wait. I take an aspirin and go to bed.
At 3.30AM, I wake up. The pain is as strong as ever. I turn in the bed, and it hurts. I turn on the other side, and it hurts more. And, if I lie on my back, it hurts most. Despite being very tired, the pain just does not let me sleep. I cannot stand lying in the bed. So I get dressed, take an umbrella (yes, it's July, but it's raining like hell) and walk. At 4AM I am at the nearest hospital.
They see nothing, even at the X-rays, make me a shot of Diclofenac and send me back home, after prescribing me lots of painkillers and stomach protectors. And they suggest me to have more exams.
The days after, no more pain. The medicines have the side effects to cure the symptoms of the other health problems (cervical arthrosis, excessive stomach acidity), the medical tests say nothing at all.
The only possible explanation the doctor gave is: I had kidney stones, and I successfully expelled them. Yet, there is no certainty.
On a Sunday (the day after the first, and so far the last, concert of The Membro's) I go to Zandvoort. Horrible weather, not the day to go to the beach. And I feel a light pain in my back on the left side. Light, but persistent. It's nothing, it's just because I rode a friend on my bike yesterday, yet it doesn't go. I take an aspirin and go to bed.
Monday, I go to work, and the pain is still there, growing stronger as the hours pass. I phone my personal doctor, telling I am strongly considering going to the hospital. She says not to worry and wait. I take an aspirin and go to bed.
At 3.30AM, I wake up. The pain is as strong as ever. I turn in the bed, and it hurts. I turn on the other side, and it hurts more. And, if I lie on my back, it hurts most. Despite being very tired, the pain just does not let me sleep. I cannot stand lying in the bed. So I get dressed, take an umbrella (yes, it's July, but it's raining like hell) and walk. At 4AM I am at the nearest hospital.
They see nothing, even at the X-rays, make me a shot of Diclofenac and send me back home, after prescribing me lots of painkillers and stomach protectors. And they suggest me to have more exams.
The days after, no more pain. The medicines have the side effects to cure the symptoms of the other health problems (cervical arthrosis, excessive stomach acidity), the medical tests say nothing at all.
The only possible explanation the doctor gave is: I had kidney stones, and I successfully expelled them. Yet, there is no certainty.
After a long silence
Why no posts for such a long time? Because blogs are a fashion, and fashions come and go. Or because I found no time. Or because Elisa was in the same room when I was sitting in front of the PC, and a blog is a personal thing (but, if it is so personal, why can everyone read it?).
Anyway, the silence is broken. Time to resume blogging.
(to the people who will read this blog in 3 years, and find that this is still the most recent post: please, don't laugh too hard)
Anyway, the silence is broken. Time to resume blogging.
(to the people who will read this blog in 3 years, and find that this is still the most recent post: please, don't laugh too hard)
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
A mistake everyone makes, at some point
Last Sunday I made a mistake. I went to Ikea in Haarlem to buy a piece of furniture.
As this was not enough, I went there without a car. I thought: "There is a railway station there, I just have to walk through the parking lot to the station". I did not think that the object weighed 21 or 23 kg (different signs in different parts of the shop said different things), and that's a lot to carry, even for a few metres. I struggled to the train, I was helped by four kind ladies to put the object in the train, and out of it at the arrival, then I was helped by two girls carry it from the platform to the station's main hall (the two girls missed their train because of this). I was helped by a station worker who collected something I lost and gave it back to me. I went to the bus station outside and it started raining. I thought "Not bad, the box will protect it". The box, being made of cardboard, nearly dissolved when wet: every attempt at moving the box caused a hole in it, and consequent falling off of the content. In the bus, I was helped by a boy who happened to have a roll of sticky tape, and donated it to me. With the sticky tape, it was barely possible to keep the box together in the last metres of my way home.
That was the closest thing to a Mr.Bean sketch that happened to me.
On a different story, yesterday I met my neighbour for the first time. After more than three months, that's a record. She's been very kind, anyway.
As this was not enough, I went there without a car. I thought: "There is a railway station there, I just have to walk through the parking lot to the station". I did not think that the object weighed 21 or 23 kg (different signs in different parts of the shop said different things), and that's a lot to carry, even for a few metres. I struggled to the train, I was helped by four kind ladies to put the object in the train, and out of it at the arrival, then I was helped by two girls carry it from the platform to the station's main hall (the two girls missed their train because of this). I was helped by a station worker who collected something I lost and gave it back to me. I went to the bus station outside and it started raining. I thought "Not bad, the box will protect it". The box, being made of cardboard, nearly dissolved when wet: every attempt at moving the box caused a hole in it, and consequent falling off of the content. In the bus, I was helped by a boy who happened to have a roll of sticky tape, and donated it to me. With the sticky tape, it was barely possible to keep the box together in the last metres of my way home.
That was the closest thing to a Mr.Bean sketch that happened to me.
On a different story, yesterday I met my neighbour for the first time. After more than three months, that's a record. She's been very kind, anyway.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Awake all night
Living at a northern latitude has some side effects. In winter, daylight time is shorter. It's something you barely notice: when you stay from 9 to 5 (6, 7...) in an office, you do not really care if it's daylight or not, and, when you come out, the dark sky make you feel you have wasted the entire day in the office. Which is depressing, in Italy and in Holland. Well, you barely notice in the evening, but waking up at 8 am and seeing it's still night is weird, I never experienced such a thing in Italy.
In summer, it's the opposite. These days there is still quite a lot of daylight at 22.00.
So, yesterday a colleague organized a party in a bar in the centre. The occasion was his graduation, his birthday and his new house. Events which happened in different times, but are celebrated only now all at once. He invited quite a lot of friends, who mostly studied in Groningen. Many of them live close to Groningen, that is quite far from Amsterdam, yet they did the journey nevertheless, despite the inconvinient return trip, or the inconvinient night at some friend's home. Dutch people would do anything for some free beer.
The epilogue. I came back home very late, at about 3.30 am, and I ended up going to bed after 4am. And I looked out of the window: there was already some daylight.I stayed awake all night. Well, I slept later (not much, as usual these days), yet it was a really weird experience.
In summer, it's the opposite. These days there is still quite a lot of daylight at 22.00.
So, yesterday a colleague organized a party in a bar in the centre. The occasion was his graduation, his birthday and his new house. Events which happened in different times, but are celebrated only now all at once. He invited quite a lot of friends, who mostly studied in Groningen. Many of them live close to Groningen, that is quite far from Amsterdam, yet they did the journey nevertheless, despite the inconvinient return trip, or the inconvinient night at some friend's home. Dutch people would do anything for some free beer.
The epilogue. I came back home very late, at about 3.30 am, and I ended up going to bed after 4am. And I looked out of the window: there was already some daylight.I stayed awake all night. Well, I slept later (not much, as usual these days), yet it was a really weird experience.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Tolerance?
Yesterday I found some flyers on the stairs. They said, more or less: "Do you suspect that there is a cultivation of hemp in the neighbourhood? Then call the police". The alleged reasons were that home growing of hemp is illegal, it causes danger of fire and it makes neighbourhoods less safe.
Yes, this is the same country where coffeeshops sell hemp. Where the hell do they get it, then?
By the way, the landlady of my previous house had asked me not to grow plants which require constant illumination. But I suspect she was only worried about the electricity bill.
Yes, this is the same country where coffeeshops sell hemp. Where the hell do they get it, then?
By the way, the landlady of my previous house had asked me not to grow plants which require constant illumination. But I suspect she was only worried about the electricity bill.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
I kissed a celebrity
Last Monday I came back from Italy, where I went to celebrate the fact that Elisa has become a national celebrity. She won one of the 5 L'Oreal scholarships for women in science for Italy in 2007, and therefore she (and the other winners) appeared on the 14th May edition of many national newspapers: La Repubblica on page 28, Corriere della Sera on page 20, La Stampa on page 38 and Il Sole 24 Ore on page 8. That day she even appeared on the national TV news programme, TG1, 20.00 edition (and nobody recorded that. And the archive only archives 24 hours. Anybody has a copy?). At the ceremony, Umberto Veronesi, former Minister of Health and scientific director of the European Institute of Oncology, shook her hand.
To prove that I'm not lying, here are two photos for you to compare.
A promising young scientist, as she appeared on all the main newspapers last Monday
The beauty and the beast last summer in Utrecht
Italy is a nice place, but too many people there think that a Middle Age morale is a good thing. So they struggle in order to deny basic rights to many people, and try to oppose the current law proposal about the agreement between unmarried couples, both hetero and gay. They say that this law would destroy families. In Holland, and even in other Catholic countries such as France or Spain, such agreements exist and they don't destroy families. The Church is really becoming too powerful. That's why I feel so comfortable away from Italy. Then, if Italy eventually progresses, I would be happy, and consider about coming back.
OK, time to stop blogging. I have to cook for two colleagues of mine and their partners, who come here tonight for dinner. One of them is a man married to a man.
To prove that I'm not lying, here are two photos for you to compare.
A promising young scientist, as she appeared on all the main newspapers last MondayThe beauty and the beast last summer in UtrechtItaly is a nice place, but too many people there think that a Middle Age morale is a good thing. So they struggle in order to deny basic rights to many people, and try to oppose the current law proposal about the agreement between unmarried couples, both hetero and gay. They say that this law would destroy families. In Holland, and even in other Catholic countries such as France or Spain, such agreements exist and they don't destroy families. The Church is really becoming too powerful. That's why I feel so comfortable away from Italy. Then, if Italy eventually progresses, I would be happy, and consider about coming back.
OK, time to stop blogging. I have to cook for two colleagues of mine and their partners, who come here tonight for dinner. One of them is a man married to a man.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Spring, again
It's spring! Since a few days, the weather is far better, there is more light... OK, you can go directly to last year's post, everything is the same.
To celebrate spring, I and some friends went to Keukenhof. The day was wonderful, sunny, and, at certain hours, even warm. And the park had simply gorgeous colours. We left late because I bought one ticket too much, so I had to queue to have it refunded (successfully). The rest was fun. I also took some photos.
To celebrate spring, I and some friends went to Keukenhof. The day was wonderful, sunny, and, at certain hours, even warm. And the park had simply gorgeous colours. We left late because I bought one ticket too much, so I had to queue to have it refunded (successfully). The rest was fun. I also took some photos.
Flowers seen from the train
Entrance of the Keukenhof
Cherry trees (maybe)
Windmill inside the park
An Ikea sofa in the middle of the park. Power of sponsorship
An award-winning anthurium (or whatever the name is)
An award-winning anthurium (or whatever the name is)
You think I took too many photos? Think that someone else took more than 200!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
New home
Eventually, I moved to the new home. This time, with a regular rental contract, and a landlord who does not plan to phone and tell me to leave in one week.
And I discovered that the home where I lived for more than one year was in a problematic neighbourhood. Funny. Nothing bad happened to me. Well, once I saw a person getting off a taxi and starting fighting with another one who was walking on the street. And someone broke in my friends' motorhome. But I really loved the neighbourhood. I would come back any day. Actually, I would like to come back as soon as possible: I miss the friends, the lovely neighbours, I still go to the old swimming pool despite having to do a long bike ride to get there.
My present neighbourhood is not problematic, according to that list. But it borders with two problematic ones. So I feel less homesick.
I am getting some satisfactions at work. Apparently, my bosses started noticing that I am doing something. They claim that my contract was renewed for one year only because I was not doing well enough (well, they could tell me that before. How can I do better if I don't even know I am not doing well?). But they say that I improved, and one sign of it is that many people come to me and ask me questions, help and consultancy. My take is: people outside my group knew what I did, what I knew and what I was capable to do, so they came to me asking me questions, help and consultancy. Because of this, my bosses got to know what I did, what I knew and what I was capable to do. But I am happy, better late than never.
And I discovered that the home where I lived for more than one year was in a problematic neighbourhood. Funny. Nothing bad happened to me. Well, once I saw a person getting off a taxi and starting fighting with another one who was walking on the street. And someone broke in my friends' motorhome. But I really loved the neighbourhood. I would come back any day. Actually, I would like to come back as soon as possible: I miss the friends, the lovely neighbours, I still go to the old swimming pool despite having to do a long bike ride to get there.
My present neighbourhood is not problematic, according to that list. But it borders with two problematic ones. So I feel less homesick.
I am getting some satisfactions at work. Apparently, my bosses started noticing that I am doing something. They claim that my contract was renewed for one year only because I was not doing well enough (well, they could tell me that before. How can I do better if I don't even know I am not doing well?). But they say that I improved, and one sign of it is that many people come to me and ask me questions, help and consultancy. My take is: people outside my group knew what I did, what I knew and what I was capable to do, so they came to me asking me questions, help and consultancy. Because of this, my bosses got to know what I did, what I knew and what I was capable to do. But I am happy, better late than never.
Monday, March 05, 2007
My piece of heaven
I had to change house much quicker than expected. My landlady wanted it with no delay, and the fact that I hadn't found a new house yet did nothing to change her mind.
Luckily, my saviour came in the person of my neighbour downstairs. I was looking for some temporary accommodation, and asked her if she could let me stay in the meantime. The other temporary accommodations did not materialise, so my stay, which was supposed at first to last one week, will end up being one month.
Our relationship during this period was, in small scale, the same as in the previous period of neighbourhood. She studies and works, so she is always very busy. Yet, when she does have free time, she is exceptionally kind and friendly. So, her spare room with my computer, her Internet connection, my Ikea foldable bed and many object which did not fit anywhere else in her house are currently my piece of heaven. And I'm thoroughly enjoying it. I really, really don't know how I can be grateful to her, everything seems not enough.
Next week, I will move to my real new house. It is in the opposite side of the city, and smaller than the old one. But it is nice and cheap (for Amsterdam standards). I'm sure I'll love it. As they say, a door closes, a gate opens.
Luckily, my saviour came in the person of my neighbour downstairs. I was looking for some temporary accommodation, and asked her if she could let me stay in the meantime. The other temporary accommodations did not materialise, so my stay, which was supposed at first to last one week, will end up being one month.
Our relationship during this period was, in small scale, the same as in the previous period of neighbourhood. She studies and works, so she is always very busy. Yet, when she does have free time, she is exceptionally kind and friendly. So, her spare room with my computer, her Internet connection, my Ikea foldable bed and many object which did not fit anywhere else in her house are currently my piece of heaven. And I'm thoroughly enjoying it. I really, really don't know how I can be grateful to her, everything seems not enough.
Next week, I will move to my real new house. It is in the opposite side of the city, and smaller than the old one. But it is nice and cheap (for Amsterdam standards). I'm sure I'll love it. As they say, a door closes, a gate opens.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Farewell
The news has arrived: I will have to leave my present house. My landlady is coming back soon, and to stay.
What a pity. She loved India. Probably, she came of the opinion that India is a place to visit, but not a place to live. And, apparently, the love of one of the greatest body artists in the world was not enough to convince her.
I will stay here at least until mid-February, hopefully I will have found something else by that date. The date of the actual moving will probably not be sad, since I will be happy about the new place. But today, it is. I look around, see the walls, the furniture, the sight from the window. I came here almost 15 months ago, and already on the first day I said "This is my new house. This is my house".
And now, the same walls, the same furniture, mean something different. They are telling to me: "Forget us. In a few days, you won't see us anymore". Why?
In those times, I only think about good things. The space. The light. The neighbours asking me if I liked the place and the country, and always being kind to me. Not everything was good. But I cannot think about what was bad right now. Only good things come to my mind. I will lose everything related to this house forever. And I can only think about the good things I will lose forever.
When I left Italy to come here, I missed nothing. I was just happy. I only thought about how beautiful the future would be. Now, I'm just sad. I only think about how beautiful the past was.
And a particular mention goes to the bike. This is also not mine, but my landlady's. It is old. It is rusty. The saddle has a hole exposing the inner sponge, so, when it rains, the sponge soaks and when I sit my bum gets wet. It makes all sorts of strange noises when pedalling. It forced me to plug leaks 10 times. And, yet, I grew so fond of it. It is freedom of movement. It is rewarding. It gives me power, strength. I can reach faraway places (well, never more than 30 km) with my own legs, thanks to this little old rusty piece of iron.
I am still here, but it is already time for farewell, a few days in advance. Farewell, my beautiful house in Amsterdam East. Farewell, rusty old Gazelle bike. I will miss you, sorely. You entered my life, deeply. And now you are parting, and your place inside me will be empty. And it hurts.
If I feel so much sorrow for such unimportant details, it means that there are no bigger worries.
It's the only positive thing I can think about now.
What a pity. She loved India. Probably, she came of the opinion that India is a place to visit, but not a place to live. And, apparently, the love of one of the greatest body artists in the world was not enough to convince her.
I will stay here at least until mid-February, hopefully I will have found something else by that date. The date of the actual moving will probably not be sad, since I will be happy about the new place. But today, it is. I look around, see the walls, the furniture, the sight from the window. I came here almost 15 months ago, and already on the first day I said "This is my new house. This is my house".
And now, the same walls, the same furniture, mean something different. They are telling to me: "Forget us. In a few days, you won't see us anymore". Why?
In those times, I only think about good things. The space. The light. The neighbours asking me if I liked the place and the country, and always being kind to me. Not everything was good. But I cannot think about what was bad right now. Only good things come to my mind. I will lose everything related to this house forever. And I can only think about the good things I will lose forever.
When I left Italy to come here, I missed nothing. I was just happy. I only thought about how beautiful the future would be. Now, I'm just sad. I only think about how beautiful the past was.
And a particular mention goes to the bike. This is also not mine, but my landlady's. It is old. It is rusty. The saddle has a hole exposing the inner sponge, so, when it rains, the sponge soaks and when I sit my bum gets wet. It makes all sorts of strange noises when pedalling. It forced me to plug leaks 10 times. And, yet, I grew so fond of it. It is freedom of movement. It is rewarding. It gives me power, strength. I can reach faraway places (well, never more than 30 km) with my own legs, thanks to this little old rusty piece of iron.
I am still here, but it is already time for farewell, a few days in advance. Farewell, my beautiful house in Amsterdam East. Farewell, rusty old Gazelle bike. I will miss you, sorely. You entered my life, deeply. And now you are parting, and your place inside me will be empty. And it hurts.
If I feel so much sorrow for such unimportant details, it means that there are no bigger worries.
It's the only positive thing I can think about now.
Weather storm
It's a beautiful song by Massive Attack. But it's also what everyone in Amsterdam (and in the whole Northern Europe) experienced exactly one week ago, last Thursday.
In the morning it rained, so I left my bike and took the tram. It would turn out to be one of the wisest decisions in my life. I noticed that something was wrong: Dutch people were using umbrellas. Dutch people are waterproof, they normally walk and bike under the rain as if nothing was happening. And my umbrella flipped 5 or 6 times because of the wind in the short time from exiting from home to entering the tram.
But the worst had yet to come. The wind got stronger and stronger, rain didn't stop, the noise coming from the (closed) windows was scarier and scarier. Luckily I brought something for lunch, so I didn't have to go out to get it, and that was also very wise.
Later in the afternoon, we had the first news that some Christmas light decorations fell on the tram's aerial cables, very close to the office. It was dangerous to use that street, and the trams were detoured.
Train traffic was severely disrupted, bad news from commuters. Web sites kept saying that there were some trains running, maybe leaving from stations further away. Then, police ordered that all trains stopped. It was the hell for commuters and travelling people in general. A colleague, desperate because there was no way for him to come home near The Hague, begged me for a place to spend the night. So I ended up letting him sleep in my living room. And he can consider himself lucky: in Amsterdam and Utrecht, exhibition centers were turned into refugee camps, in order to let stranded people sleep under a roof. The media said that about 200.000 people in Holland could not spend the night at their home.
The day after was extraordinarily clear and sunny.
In the morning it rained, so I left my bike and took the tram. It would turn out to be one of the wisest decisions in my life. I noticed that something was wrong: Dutch people were using umbrellas. Dutch people are waterproof, they normally walk and bike under the rain as if nothing was happening. And my umbrella flipped 5 or 6 times because of the wind in the short time from exiting from home to entering the tram.
But the worst had yet to come. The wind got stronger and stronger, rain didn't stop, the noise coming from the (closed) windows was scarier and scarier. Luckily I brought something for lunch, so I didn't have to go out to get it, and that was also very wise.
Later in the afternoon, we had the first news that some Christmas light decorations fell on the tram's aerial cables, very close to the office. It was dangerous to use that street, and the trams were detoured.
Train traffic was severely disrupted, bad news from commuters. Web sites kept saying that there were some trains running, maybe leaving from stations further away. Then, police ordered that all trains stopped. It was the hell for commuters and travelling people in general. A colleague, desperate because there was no way for him to come home near The Hague, begged me for a place to spend the night. So I ended up letting him sleep in my living room. And he can consider himself lucky: in Amsterdam and Utrecht, exhibition centers were turned into refugee camps, in order to let stranded people sleep under a roof. The media said that about 200.000 people in Holland could not spend the night at their home.
The day after was extraordinarily clear and sunny.
Eat, eat, eat
I came back from Italy to Holland with a suitcase full of food. Specialties, liquours, cakes... everything lekker that Italy has to offer. I didn't think I was this nationalist before coming here.
So, what does one do with food? You've guessed it!
On the first day at work, panettone and pandoro day again, just like last year.
Then, I invited my Italian colleagues at home, to eat zampone (pig's leg, typical for New Year's Day) and lentils. Only, Elisa told me that she needed all the zamponi, because she invited seventeen people for dinner. The situation was solved by having a zampone sent by mail in a parcel. So I, my colleagues and some friends of friends gathered at my house and enjoyed. Despite being the first time with a lot of messy organization, the zampone turned out to be good.
Last Monday, it was the turn of Elisa's 17 friends, and the neighbour downstairs, who also lent many chairs which made the thing possible. Incredible but true, it worked! Two friends of Elisa's, both Italian, helped a lot (I didn't), and all the Dutch and not Dutch people who were present appreciated. Some even said it was the best dinner of their lives. The menu was staggering: crostini (small pieces of roasted bread) with tomato and garlic, with liver paté, with olives paté; raw ham, mortadella, finocchiona (a special salami aromatized with fennel seeds); bucatini all'amatriciana; linguine al pesto; zampone (again) with lentils; panettone, panforte, mascarpone cream, brutti ma buoni (a meringue candy); Lavazza coffee; liquour as "coffee killer"; lots and lots of wine. It's amazing we survived. I ate left-overs of that dinner for all the following lunches and dinners until today (except yesterday's dinner). And there's still something left.
And yesterday, there was a dinner with a selected group of colleagues, all working on the same product, but on different sides: development, testing, product management. And it was great fun. At work, people often talk about work, because it's the only common ground. During lunch breaks, in front of the coffee machine, on the Fridays at De Heeren Van Aemstel or Coco's, at the company-organized parties, you really make friends, and contact with people is always an enriching experience. And, often, you get to discover hidden sides of people, which is always a surprise. Shy, silent people, who do not look interested to anything else but work, open up and show others their world, their experiences, their life. As they say, If I give you an idea and you give me an idea, we'll both have two ideas. Among the discoveries, the most amazing was that one of the product managers, born in India, lived most of his life in England, was part of the RAF, was in the Falklands during the war, and he lived 2 years at just 10 kilometers from where I was born! The world is really small.
So, what does one do with food? You've guessed it!
On the first day at work, panettone and pandoro day again, just like last year.
Then, I invited my Italian colleagues at home, to eat zampone (pig's leg, typical for New Year's Day) and lentils. Only, Elisa told me that she needed all the zamponi, because she invited seventeen people for dinner. The situation was solved by having a zampone sent by mail in a parcel. So I, my colleagues and some friends of friends gathered at my house and enjoyed. Despite being the first time with a lot of messy organization, the zampone turned out to be good.
Last Monday, it was the turn of Elisa's 17 friends, and the neighbour downstairs, who also lent many chairs which made the thing possible. Incredible but true, it worked! Two friends of Elisa's, both Italian, helped a lot (I didn't), and all the Dutch and not Dutch people who were present appreciated. Some even said it was the best dinner of their lives. The menu was staggering: crostini (small pieces of roasted bread) with tomato and garlic, with liver paté, with olives paté; raw ham, mortadella, finocchiona (a special salami aromatized with fennel seeds); bucatini all'amatriciana; linguine al pesto; zampone (again) with lentils; panettone, panforte, mascarpone cream, brutti ma buoni (a meringue candy); Lavazza coffee; liquour as "coffee killer"; lots and lots of wine. It's amazing we survived. I ate left-overs of that dinner for all the following lunches and dinners until today (except yesterday's dinner). And there's still something left.
And yesterday, there was a dinner with a selected group of colleagues, all working on the same product, but on different sides: development, testing, product management. And it was great fun. At work, people often talk about work, because it's the only common ground. During lunch breaks, in front of the coffee machine, on the Fridays at De Heeren Van Aemstel or Coco's, at the company-organized parties, you really make friends, and contact with people is always an enriching experience. And, often, you get to discover hidden sides of people, which is always a surprise. Shy, silent people, who do not look interested to anything else but work, open up and show others their world, their experiences, their life. As they say, If I give you an idea and you give me an idea, we'll both have two ideas. Among the discoveries, the most amazing was that one of the product managers, born in India, lived most of his life in England, was part of the RAF, was in the Falklands during the war, and he lived 2 years at just 10 kilometers from where I was born! The world is really small.
Holidays
Long time between the end of the Christmas holidays and the relevant post. Nothing special, apart that they were long. Slept a lot. Visited a lot of friends in little time. Including Nicola, who some weeks earlier had come to Amsterdam for a meeting of the Phosphorus project, and, at 19 years, is the longest-time friend I have (relatives not included). New Year's Day celebration was boring, and the way I was convinced to take part to it is better left untold.
Highlights: a visit to Sant'Anna (famous for a very sad event occurred during World War II, and at the same time a very nice and quiet place among woods and mountains) and Colonnata, a small town surrounded by mountains and marble quarries, and famous for its lard.
I also scratched my father's new, big, fast car. But, strangely, he didn't kill me for that.
Highlights: a visit to Sant'Anna (famous for a very sad event occurred during World War II, and at the same time a very nice and quiet place among woods and mountains) and Colonnata, a small town surrounded by mountains and marble quarries, and famous for its lard.
I also scratched my father's new, big, fast car. But, strangely, he didn't kill me for that.
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