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.

Meh

The title of this blog can be interpreted in many different ways.

'Meh' accompanied by some serious shoulder-shrugging can be understood as an expression of ultimate disinterest, boredom, or even outright desperation.

An elongated 'Meh' combined by the mental image of sheep is better understood as a, as many a postcard in this country will tell you, Scottish Traffic Jam.

In whichever way you want to interpret the concept of 'Meh', it expresses exactly the way I feel right now. Downright disinterested, bored, desperate livestock.

I HAVE to finnish my essay (yes I am even resorting to the use of capitals ánd am throwing in accidental eastern europeans).
But I don't FEEL like doing it. Nor am I convinced of the point I'm making and am thus not capable of putting the words into any plausable order to make it.

That combined with a strong force within me to read Harry Potter and that whole swine flu thing (funny how it's okay when it's on a different continent and not so funny when it's around the corner keeping a newlywed couple in hospital), I'm not really motivated.
BUT, I WILL finish the thing tomorrow. I promise(d myself).

Meanwhile, read the beautiful story in the post below (no you haven't seen it, yes even if the date says last Saturday, I only posted it today, as yet another attempt to forget about my essay) I love it. I want to publish it. (Karen's doing the illustrations) Although I don't want it to be frowned on by Christians. If only because it's just cool. (See, usually I'm capable of forming an argument, not today, noooo not today)

But actually, life is good. Only three weeks till Suriname. (would you help me in asking the Cosmos to keep the swine flu away from there?) It's just those very last study straws that are breaking this camels' back. (Camel, sheep, sperm whale, whatever)

Maybe I should just go to sleep.

F.Y.I. I've not been drinking or anything, I've just been listening to Nakariakov for too long. It makes me jumpy and ridiculus. Classical music can do that to a person. (Camel, sheep, whale, whatever)

Genesis

A couple of days ago I came across the blog of a former co-student of mine from Leiden. Last March he had written a post especially for International Women's day. For the occasion he had rewritten Genesis. I was impressed. I asked him if I could translate it into english and post it on here, and voilà, here it is. It looks long, I know, but bear with me, you'll be happy you read it.

See it as an early Beltane present :) May Love, Light and Prosperity be upon you.


EVE

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was waste and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep: and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

And God said, 'Let there be light'. And there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good. And God called the light Day, and the darkness was called Night. Then the first day was at an end. God was tired and went to sleep.

The following day God created the heaven and the sea, the mountains and the rivers, the beach and the forrests. And God got excited, and created the fjords, the canyons, and the barren deserts. And God saw that it was good.

On the third day, God got up and looked at all the beautiful things. They were still a bit empty. And God created the fish in the sea, the birds in the trees, and the little creepy crawlies in the sand. And God saw that it was good.

Gods creating skills improved so God created the horses and the elephants, the sabertooth tigers and the dinoaurs, the armadillos and the tapirs. And to crown it all God created the sperm whales. And God was tired but satisfied, and the fourth day was over.

But on the fifth day God felt a bit lonely. God wanted someone to talk to, a friend. And God created man, and called him Adam. And the fifth day was over, and God went to sleep only after saying 'Good night' to Adam. And God thought that it was good.

Adam watched his reflection in the water. He was quite pleased with himself. He had a nice full beard, white teeth, clean nails, and muscled arms and legs. 'I am so beautiful,' thought Adam, 'I must look like God. God has created me in His own image'

And Adam walked around, and he saw the creepy crawlies in the sand, the birds in the trees. He saw the sabertooth tiger and the armadillo. 'I am like God,' Adam said, 'but you are not, because I can talk, and you can't. That means you have to obey me. I am the perfection of Creation.' And Adam was very pleased with himself.

Then he felt something under his foot. It was a little crawly animal, but now it was dead, because Adam had stood on it. Adam got cross. 'Why are you in my way!' he barked. 'Now you have soiled my foot, created in Gods own image! Now your dirty little black corpse is on my sole!' And Adam went to the river to wash himself.

When he arrived at the river he saw a fish. He grabbed the fish with his hand. 'What are you doing in my river?' Adam asked. 'This is my river, God promised me this river. He also promised me the land. So all animals must obey me.' He ate the fish. And all animals were scared.

God called for Adam. 'Adam, I want to talk to you, you don't understand!' But Adam didn't hear the call, because Adam was too busy bossing around all the animals. God was sad. God had created someone to talk to, but felt lonelier now than ever before. 'I've made a mistake,' God thought. 'I have given man the gifts of speech and thought, but I did not give him the ability to listen nor to love. How do I make up for this?'

God thought. 'What if I make a second human... one that can love and listen, and can teach Adam how to do that?' And God created the second human, and God called her Eve. She was even more beautiful than the first one.

Adam saw Eve. She was beautiful beyond words. Adam went to her. 'I am Adam,' he said, 'and you have to obey me, because I was created in God's own image.' Eve looked at him. She smiled. 'It's okay,' she said. 'Go to sleep. The sixth day is almost over. Now it is time to rest.'

Adam didn't understand what she meant. Her smile scared him. Who was this? 'Who are you?' he asked.

'I am Eve,' said Eve. 'I would like to be your friend. I would like to hear your stories, if you'll listen to mine.' Adam didn't know what to say. She was stunning. Her eyes seemed to look straight through him. Her hair was long, and her body was so round and so much more beautiful than his. All of a sudden he was ashamed of his own scrawny and square body and of the hair on his face and his chest. For the first time in his existence he felt ugly.

'Go away!' cried Adam. 'I don't want to see you, I want nothing to do with you!' That was a lie. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, look at her, and touch her strange body. But he was afraid to say so. 'Go away!' He cried angrily. Eve was scared, and ran away. She cried. Why wouldn't he listen to her stories? Why did he scare her so?

God called them, but was not heard. Adam and Eve were too involved with themselves and eachother, they were no longer able to hear God.

'How can this be?' thought Adam, 'She looks just like me, but still she is so different. We both have two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. We both have ten fingers and ten toes, we both have a bellybutton. We speak the same language but still we cannot understand eachother. Why will she not accept my autority? Why is she more beautiful than me!?'

He went to her. She had stopped crying. She had gotten hungry and had taken a piece of fruit from one of the trees. It was delicious. Seeing how much she enjoyed this foreign fruit infuriated Adam. How could she take pleasure from something he didn't know? Why hadn't she first asked permission to eat from that tree?

'Why didn't you ask me if you could eat from that tree?' cried Adam. 'That is not just any tree, that is a sacred tree! The fruit is forbidden to eat, God has told me that in person!' Eva jumped. She didn't know that. But how could something that tasted so good, that was sweet and sour and thirst-quenching, be forbidden? Didn't God allow them the good of Creation?

'Now God will always be angry with us,' Adam spoke with a strict voice. 'With us, and with all future generations. And that is your fault. From now on you must obey me, so you cannot commit a sin again. From now on you are my posession. If you refuse I will kill you, like you were a creepy crawly. If you follow me, I will be good to you. Whichever way, we have to flee, away from the tree of God, because God does not want to see us anymore.'

Eve was scared. She did not want to die. He looked dangerous, and strong. She did not want to fight. She wanted to know him, she wanted to see what was hidden behind those cold eyes. Maybe, if she followed him she would be able to teach him, little by little, to listen, and to love.

'Alright, I'll go with you,' she said. And Adam and Eve left the place where they had met, and fled. They ran from an angry God that they were imagining.

And God saw how Her children ran away, and cried silently. But God knew that parents must learn to let their children go, and that sometimes they cannot hear their parents voices. And God knew that they were not perfect, but She hoped they would learn to understand each other, learn to love, and that they would not hurt each other too much.

And Adam told his children the story of the sacred tree, and of Eve's guilt, and of the angry God. Eve averted her eyes, and said nothing.

And the children related the story of the tree and the fruit to their children, who then told their children, who told their children thereafter. And none knew how it really had occured.

This story was originally written by Aike Rots, in Dutch. http://aikerots.blogspot.com/2009/03/eva.html

Dundee and Arbroath

After those texty-posts I'll give you guys some pictures to stare at again :)

Two weeks ago Caro, Karin, Meri and I went on a little day-trip to Dundee and Arbroath. Dundee was a sweet little boring town, with a couple of churches we wanted to see. Strangely all of the churches were closed....ánd most of the kebab stores we wanted to visit were also :)

From Dundee we took a trainride right along the coastline to Arbroath. The weather was beautiful (very different from what the forecast said...hence the Wellies) if not extremely windy...ah whatever, most pictures are nice and 'dynamic' because of it.

Try finding a street in Dundee without penguins ór closed churches...impossible.

Arbroath was simply astounding. The century-old Abbey ruin that dominates the tiny sea-side town is huge and impressing. For those of you with historic interest, try Wiki-ing: Arbroath Abbey and The Declaration of Arbroath.

Me and the huge Abbey Church ruin.

"..for, as long as but a hundred of us remain alive, never will we on any conditions be brought under English rule. It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom – for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself."

The dude that wrote the Declaration of Arbroath is gifted...he should've worked on Braveheart. :P

North-easter coastline of Scotland. I really want to go to the red sandstone cliffs in the background some time. Those are also the cliffs the Abby is made out of.

Chillin' in the sun

More pics from our trip:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=71940&id=565292619&l=30fe5a0ccf

Moment of Enlightenment

Just to share with you a small part of the wonders I sometimes have to read for my classes. I read this while the last 2,5 minutes of Coldplay - Fix You was playing in the background.

Murray Rogers, Anglican priest who has spent over forty years in Asia and the Middle East, on those he encountered of a different faith:

"I gladly share, without fear of disloyalty to Christ, their treasures of experience, their perceptions of the Mystery, their ways of breathing the Reality beyond all name and form. 'I' and 'they' have almost disappeared and in their place it is 'we'. No longer am I driven to fight crusades to bring 'them' over to 'my' side, as if Christ were on 'my' side. Fanaticism, including Christian fanaticism, is seen to be what in fact it always is, an appalling insult to the Divine Mystery lying beyond and within creation."