What? what's this? an email? sacrebleu!

Date: Wed, 15 Nov 2006

So it's been a while, hasn't it. I hope you've missed me.

Things picked up recently here as pertains to schoolwork. I had midterms. I had to study. Oooh my. Now that they're done, I can take some moments for "soulagement". But this is boring…

I passed the weekend before my first exam in the canal-crossed, market-filled, pancake-adoring city of Amsterdam. Ariel, my freshman year roommate is studying there for the semester and I figured I'd better visit before, in the blink of an eye, the semester is over and she’s back in the US of A. What did I do there? You're just dying to know. I can feeeel it in meee bones

Friday morning while Ariel went to class, I went to the Dutch Resistance Museum - a very well organized, multi-media presentation of various Dutch Resistance movements during WWII. I was enlightened, entertained, intrigued, and abducted by aliens. (Are you paying attention?)

After meeting up for a soup-er lunch, a short walk next took us to Waterlooplein, (Plein=market). The market was filled to the gizzards just like a Thanksgiving turkey with a stuffing made of brick-o-brac and vintage/used clothes. We had a fun time poking around. We even found two sets of matching leather overalls. We bought them and wore them the next day to an S&M party that took place on one of the 2,500 houseboats in Amsterdam. The president of Lithuania was there and so was Karl Marx and Chubby Checker. It was so wild it might not have existed.

We next wandered around the city, got a taste of the red light district (with our eyes, but not with out hands and mouth thankfully) and walked around a part of the city's university in a unsuccessful attempt to find it's museum. (This guidebook-described museum wasn't actually in existence. To be or not to be? The answer is apparently 'not to be').

That evening, I accompanied (I almost spelled that the French-way with a 'g') Ariel to Friday night services at a Reconstructionist temple. It was similar to a reform congregation with a bit more Hebrew. I, being some one who usually does not take solace in religion (though I do like the culture), was surprised to find how nice it felt to be there. Familiarity of something when so far away? Perhaps. Have I suddenly become a fanatically religious zealot? Like not. Anyhow, the shul was in a building that a pre-WWII synagogue, but was given to the government during the bellicose epoch (is that right? I just want to write “epoque”). Now the Jewish community is trying to reclaim ownership and is encountering various difficulties.

Saturday late morning off we go on our merry way to the Museum Van Look. I got a look at the sumptuous decor of a 18th(?) century canal house. The afternoon held in store the Van Gogh museum, filled with plenty of noted works by the artist of the same name (surprise!) We also tried to get into the Rijksmuseum, which is filled with Rembrandt and Vermeer and the like, but encountered difficulties as the ticket man noticed I was using Ariel's roommate's museum card to get in. This card is a get-in-free to museums type ordeal and clearly my name wasn’t Oz. oops. No other museum seemed to care about my borrowed card. (I borrowed-museum carded my way into museums and former houses of God all weekend. Good thing Jews don't believe in purgatory. I think I should feel bad about my swindling, buuuut...um no comment).

That night was Museum Night in Amsterdam. During this night, many museums are open till 2 AM and entertain visitors with special activities. We say bellydancing in the Nieukerk, poked around the theater museum, listened to jazz and played with exhibits at Nemo (science museum), and got Angelhair at the Biblemuseum. Angelhair? The museum had set up hairstyling there with stylists creating curly, volume-pumped, glittery hairstyles per request that were more rockstar than David Bowie and Freddie Mercury combined. Ask me what that has to do with the Biblemuseum... who cares, it was fun. We also so the Portugese Synogogue lit with a sea of candles - warm and impressing. Boats shuttled museumers from location to location, so I got a 'free' canal ride. Beep beep.

Sunday we saw the House Boat Museum, a tiny museum squeezed onto a boat that showed what it would be like if you were one of those lucky enough to garner one of the 2500 canal moorings available for such ships.

Next, was The Lord in the Attic Museum. Did you know God lived in the attic of a canal house? Wowee! I went up and had a cup of coffee with him and we discussed politics in a sagacious manner. Besides all that (not at all unusual), here’s the story of this museum: Once upon a time in a land far, far away when Christianity was outlawed in Amsterdam and this wealthy merchant built a decadent church in his attic. And there were fairies and frogs turning into princess and thing was sparkly.

Monday I was planning on going to the Anne Frank house, but wasn't, uh, feeling 100%, so
I spent the day taking it easy and waiting for my train. I also saw a bit more of the red-light district. Absurdity might be a good word. Women standing in windows. Some big, some small, some old, some young, some trying to look seductive and at times succeeding, at times not, etc. etc. So you’re standing there, trying not to ogle when off the sidewalk a customer comes by. ‘Whoosh' there goes the red curtain covering the window, and, well, well that's all I saw (and wanted to see) but I bet they played monopoly and roasted marshmallows over the fireplace.

Back in Paris for the week...

Wednesday I had my “carte de sejour” medical exam. A “carte de sejour” permits you to stay in France beyond a tourist-esque time. In short, however, it’s just a way to get your money. Anyhow, I now have a x-ray of my chest and lungs. Super cool. I think I'll do a painting on it. BUT… BUT… I didn't get my “carte de sejour”. They wouldn’t give it to me! The people who print the cards are on strike. People here are ALWAYS on strike. In the past 1.5 weeks there have been strikes of the SNCF staff, the workers of grocery store ED, some police, professors… It never ends. haha. As per the SNCF strike… Heaven forbid that they extend the metro hours to 1:15AM on Saturday nights. NOOOOO! Wouldn't YOU rather be thrown in a pit of venomous snakes too?

Thursday night I went with two friends to a club that boasted “free entry and open bar for
les filles!' Sketchy, but it was what it claimed. One problem, however, so many of the people there were, well, old. Old like disco, baby, disco. Not that that's bad, it’s just not the crowd I want to find a night club.

Sunday, in an attempt to meet people, I went to a salsa thing. The lessons were jusst a
weeeee bit advanced for me and the people were older 20,s early 30s. mmm. There were a
few younger people. Might have found a new French friend... we'll see.

Monday, I cooked dinner for my host mom. Stuffed peppers. It was a nice break from studying… boogying around to music, sauteeing, mincing, baking. I need to learn how to
mince faster.

I need to stop here. Much more little bits I could tell you here and there, but enough already, eh?
Congrats if you've made it this far, you have the endurance of Lance Armstrong.

Bonne soirée à tout le monde et bisous,
Hannah