Suriname

I'm here! We've made it! Ánd my internet is working. My uncle is only here till 4 o clock this afternoon, I have to wait here for him now, so I have very little blogging time. But I'll share with you my first impressions:

The trip was great, the crew is lovely, my uncle brought cheese and leverworst for the bustrip to Paramaribo, we stopped at the first bar to pick up some Parbo's (beer) and had a very nice first impression of the country. Also the warm tropical blanket hugging me when I stepped out of the plane made me feel at home. I love it.

Rich and poor live side by side on the road to the city. Huge drug-mansions provide shadow for little wooden huts or unfinished houses with smiling people inside.

It's very strange to travel 9 hours by plane, to a place that looks hugely different from holland, but still see billboards in your own language, you can speak dutch to everyone. Weird, but nice.

As a wonderful surprise two of my stepfathers friends welcomed us at my uncle's hotel unplanned. They live here and drove me and my stuff to my new home. And took us out for drinks and some food after meeting my landlady and her family.

Tante Joyce is the sweetest landlady I've ever met (and the biggest). Apparently her granddaughter Rani has been asking for me for over a week. I'm meeting her today. I've brought her a big stack of dutch Donald Ducks :) Many have told me she sings the Surinamese national anthem all day. I love her already.

Joyce has put me 'close to her heart' in the biggest appartment attached to her house. Right next to her own patio. Maybe I'll move to the back of the garden in two weeks, when the people who live there now move away.

Accross from the garden lives a dutch music teacher. He's here for a little while and has already invited me to come to a choir practice he's leading coming thursday. A Mozart mass apparently. I'm there, duh.

It's hot here. Think of some place hot, and multiply it by two :) I like it, but my body has to take some time to learn the right sweating times and quantities....

My appartment is BIG and empty and lit by two huge lamps on the ceiling. I share my bathroom with at least one Gekko. His name is Mr Tjitjak. (Pasar Malay for Gekko) I like Gekkos. I used to stare at them on the ceiling when we were on holiday when I was little and I couldn't sleep. I don't count sheep, I count Gekko's. Haven't seen one in my bedroom here.

I have to go! The city calls. More blogging later!

Love from the green banks of the Suriname River.

Koninginnedag

On the 30th of April Holland turns orange. Our national colours and those of our royal family are everywhere and we celebrate our country, our royal family and our Queen mum's birthday. (Since our current Queen's birthday is in winter, they figured it would be best to keep the date where it was)

Queensday, as it is called, is actually a very interesting national holiday. One that, by the way, provides excellent subject-matter for discussing the phenomenon of civil religion. All over the country there are fairs, fleamarkets and outdoor concerts, everyone is supposed to be happy, Dutch and outdoors.
The Queen and her family visit a different city every year, this city is then completely transformed into the centre of our monarchy for the day. The royal family looks at local clubs doing their tricks on the streets, local trades are shown, the princes always participate in some stupid oldfashioned game and they all shake 3000 hands along the way. The Queen gets flowers, kisses and children's drawings for her 'birthday' and the whole shindig is broadcasted nationwide.

Sadly this year, the general talk about what the princesses were wearing, which prince made an idiot of himself during the games, and what kind of a hat the Queen was sporting this year was interrupted by the horrible, broadcasted live on tv, view of a black automobile ploughing its way through the crowds in Apeldoorn, monarchy capitol for the day. This attack on our royal family has left 8 dead so far, including the man who deliberately drove his car through a crowd of orange coloured men, women, and children.


So back in Glasgow our day started happily, by planning a small Queensday party (or Dutch Day, as Steph calls it) at my flat, until my mother calls me and says she just saw a car drive through the crowd and hit a war monument, live on tv.


Our little Queensday celebration went along as planned (unlike most of the bigger celebrations in Holland, which were cancelled) by making dutch pancakes and playing silly games in my kitchen. (Since the Scottish weather and landscape does not encourage running with eggs outside) My laptop was there too though, constantly following the news and hearing about one, then two, then five deaths. It was a strange day.

Stukje frustratie

Goed, het onderstaande komt uit een mail waarin ik mijn frustratie van het afgelopen uur even wilde delen.

Toen bedacht ik dat ik het ook wel even met jullie wilde delen, gezien het redelijk mijn 'problemen' met deze faculteit verwoordt, al is het natuurlijk een tijdelijke uitbarsting en slaat het spreekwoordelijk op Kaas.

Ik had net een afspraak met de docente die onze lessen overgenomen heeft nadat onze professor ons, onaangekondigd, verliet. Tijdens de afspraak besproken wij mijn laatste essay, dat ik als draft bij haar had ingeleverd. (dat essay waar mijn vorige post ook al over ging) Ik ben er zelf helemaal niet tevreden over, maar toch is het vervelend te horen dat er je toch nog wel 3 dagen aan moet zitten. Hence, frustratie:

Ik ben n beetje klaar met al dat universitair gezeik van dingen onderbouwen en verwijzen en blablabla. Maar goed dat ik niet nog een HELE SCRIPTIE moet schrijven...

en om het even helemaal BELACHELIJK te maken ging ze me vragen of ik wel de religie defenitie van Geertz zou willen gebruiken, omdat daarin staat dat religie iets is dat omkleed is met 'such an aura of factuality' dat het 'uniquely realistic' lijkt. Ze vroeg of ik me daarmee wel wilde associeren, zo'n definitie, want veel gelovige mensen zouden het daar mee oneens zouden zijn ofzo, ze vond het een beetje controversieel.

DAT is de definitie die IEDERE zichzelf respecterende social scientist gebruikt om religie te definieren. Geertz is een KONING en het leek gewoon alsof zij hem niet kende, en ik moet een stukje van de definitie uitleggen in mn essay omdat zij niet wist wat ik ermee bedoelde. WAT!?

GEERTZ!

omg...

Dus toen ze dat vroeg (of ik me daarmee wel wilde associeren) keek ik haar heel serieus aan en zei: Yes.

sja...misschien had ik een punt moeten maken en op mn stoel moeten gaan staan en een gigantisch verhaal moeten houden over hoe belachelijk theologisch deze faculteit is en dat ik zeker niet mijn essay ga 'censureren' door Geertz eruit te halen. Be-la-che-lijk.