Happy in Groningen

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May 18, 2003

Today (Sunday) I've just finished packing so that we can set off for breakfast, then for the train station. Groningen is about 150 km from here. Ron and I had a delightful morning in bed, just rubbing up against each other. Okay, I did give him a rim job, but I would be less a gay man had I not done so. The light is streaming in the windows. It's a breezy, gray, sunny day.

Amsterdam is so far north that the days are very long. Sun rose this morning before 5 a.m. and it's still quite light outside at 9:30 or 10 p.m. I wonder what it's like in the winter, four hours of light? In any case it makes for delightful days.

Well, we've just gotten on the train and are heading out of Amsterdam. The train was a few minutes late. Ron's conference starts this evening in Groningen, so his vacation has ended, and with me, I guess the adventure just continues.

We had better luck for breakfast this morning. Ate at a cafe off of Prinzengracht, Dmitri's. I had scrambled eggs and toast. Ron had yogurt, fruit, and granola. After breakfast, we hustled back to Hotel Keizergracht for one last time, Ron finished his packing, then we checked out.

Some notes for future reference (when we get back here), tipping is only for good service. As one guide said, service in Dutch restaurants is haphazard at best. Then there is the great drinking water controversy. If you ask for water, some restaurants will not offer tap water, only bottled water, because they can charge you €2 for it. Pretty snazzy, huh?

I just saw some wooden windmills, and didn't have my camera out. What kind of a boy scout am I?

I'm going to take all of my pictures, and some of the programs, tickets, receipts, etc. and put together another stupid website commemorating our honeymoom in Amsterdam. I'm so sentimental.

I joked with Ron that I didn't know whether I wanted Mom to read my comment about Dutch men's penises, but if she can watch my sister pronounce, "cunt" in front of a large auditorium, I guess she'll do okay with penis. I just hope that the Dutch government doesn't file an international complaint about me slandering their national treasures. Of course, I could go back to Thermos to confirm my apparent conclusions.

I am kind of missing the guys. If I'm at an internet cafe in Groningen, I'll send everyone an email. Ron called his mother a couple of days ago. What's amazing is the news blackout that we've been in. I've bought the International Herald Tribune a couple of days, but haven't really read very much of it.

So, Dutch is a humorous laguage to English ears. It has lots of hacking, gutteral noises, punctuated by what sounds like to untrained ears as undifferentiated schwas. With some elementary pronunciation lessions from Bobby and Ron, I can pretty much sound out words.

And in Amsterdam, after learning "gracht" and "straat" you can pretty much find your way around. The city is very easy to get around on foot. If you're tired, use the trolley. If you're adventurous (and have a bike lock), rent a bike. I didn't rent one this time, but I think I will the next time we visit. I've fallen in love with Amsterdam, at least in the spring time. I hope we come back soon, and that the exchange rate is much improved.

May 19, 2003

I am sitting in our room at the Schimmelpenninck Huys. Mr. Schimmelpenninck was a drag queen that moved from Amsterdam to Groningen in the late 1950s. Just kidding. It's an old, but well-appointed hotel with very nice accommodations.

The hotel serves an American breakfast, which meant that for the first time in over a week, I had some brewed rather than steamed coffee. Unfortunately, the Dutch (and the Belgians, too) serve very small cups of coffee, and I've been suffereing an acute caffeine deficit for days. Another observation, this time about Dutch toilet paper: in the US, you would buy it in hardware stores and use it to finish fine furniture.

We got into Groningen yesterday afternoon around 2:30, and promptly checked into the hotel. We hurried off tothe Grote Markt where a very large street carnival was going on. There was a bungee cord ride and an octopus-type ride, both of which looked like warmed over death. We didn't ride.

We stopped at a coffee house for some coffee, tea, and a marzipan cake. I know a keuk when I see one. We walked around town a bit more, then ate at a Mexican-"American" restaurant. We now know how the Dutch do Mexican. It looks like Mexican; it tastes like Dutch. Interesting....

Ron picked up a very detailed map of Groningen at the conference. The Centrum is only a small part of a much larger city and industrial area. There are industrial areas on two sides of the city. This is the Dutch center of natural gas production. I located a gay bar, but it's only open on Saturdays. The sauna, though, opens tomorrow at 4 p.m. and I think I might go. After reading the map, I really need new glasses.

So today's plans include the Groningen Museum, getting a newspaper, and seeing if I can find a phrasebook. I really feel out of my league here, and I need to learn some common words.

Well, I didn't make it to the museum, and will probably defer that until tomorrow. I walked Ron over the the Oosterpoort (or whatever) and then did some exploring on the way back. I had some coffee, visited the tourist office, and found an Internet Cafe, which was a nice discovery.

I sent off email to Tim and Perry. I established a temporary pop3 account. It's so nice that I can make those changes on the road, and be (in some small way) in touch with other people.

Well, my adventures took me far afield this afternoon. I did buy a Dutch phrasebook. I checked out the location of the sauna. The Groningen Museum was closed. In fact may businesses close on Mondays. Many were also had shortened Sunday hours.

I also visited a large city park all the way across the Centrum. The scale of the inner city (like in Amsterdam) is that of a very large doll house. Streets are narrow. Sidewalks are narrow. Buildings front right up on the street. And bicyclists are whizzing by constantly.

In Amsterdam they have a four-level bicycle parking facility. For the most part, car drivers are very careful. I think most cyclists, though, expect pedestrians to stay the hell out of the way.

Ron and I just got back from dinner at Javaanse Jongens Eetcafe. Although Indonesian in theme and name, both the waitress and cook were Dutch. The food was good, with a couple of surprises. I won't mind if we don't eat Dutch-Indonesian for a few years.

May 20, 2003

Ron and I just finished breakfast. He's on his way to the conference, and I'm going to spend a few minutes here before I go out looking for coffee. Two puppy dogs were outside the window while we were eating. I chuckle at puppies. They are so cute, brainless, and frisky. They wear their world right next to their skin. They radiate aliveness. I sometimes feel that I've lost that somewhere. I think we sometimes get trapped in our observations of life, and forget to participate.

I looked through the Dutch phrasebook yesterday afternoon. After reading 25 pages of closely worded text (with pronunciations) I threw up my hands. I'll just rely on the menu list in the back, and the word lists. The grammar doesn't look overly difficult, but I really need a class to make it sink in. The next time I come here, I'm going to try to have some grasp of the vocabulary.

Ron commented last night that he was looking forward to getting back home. I guess I am, too. Next time we come here, I'm going to suggest that some days we stay together and other days we go our separate ways. Also he and I would do better to have an efficiency where we could do some cooking, because he is very particular about the food, and I think he would enjoy it more if he had more control over his diet.

The bells are ringing because it's 9 a.m. Here and in Amsterdam, you can always here the bells ringing. Life really is lived differently here. It appears to be less stressful and slower. Although everyone smokes everywhere. My clothes are beginning to smell like a night at the Eagle.

Of course, I'm seeing this all from the outside. I'd really like to have a long conversation with a Dutch person. Yesterday at the Internet cafe, I had a short conversation with the owner. He's originally from Brussels. The cafe was basically a bar and cafe with computers in the back. you pay €1,80 an hour for access.

When I get home, I'm going to have a helluva 'n editing job to do on this stuff to give it some continuity. I've been pretty determined to keep this up to date so I don't have to go back and try to remember the details.

I'm at the coffee house having some morning coffee and a tosti Hawaii, which is Holland's answer to something - a grilled cheese with pineapple and ham. Ron had one in Amsterdam, and was totally appalled. I kind of like the idea. After eating it, I think it's a nice breakfast food, but not a national treasure. I've been using my phrasebook to peruse the menu. It's a lot of detective work, but I think in a short while, I could probably figure it out. I guess the lesson is that next time I need to be prepared.

I went to the newsstand this morning and asked for the IHT, and the clerk replied, "It isn't here yet; it's always late on Tuesdays." Just another note on odd schedules and explanations.

I think I could come here and be mystified days on end. The cultural code is begging to be cracked, and looking from the outside, some of the behavior appears pretty inexplicable. More along the lines of, "That's how it goes, here." I think this is why Ron is having so much angst over the food. They just don't eat that way over here. There is a lot of wisdom in, "When in Rome, do as the Roman do."

Two Dutch boys are in the shop, drinking their coffee, smoking their cigarettes, and reading their newspapers. Of course I wonder. I'd really like to talk with them, in fact talk with anyone. How can tourists be anything but outsiders?

Groningen is a pretty town. It has three rather stately church towers in the Centrum, and other kinds of imposing buildings in and around the Grote Markt. The Centrum is very small - I walked across it twice yesterday. I'll probably do nearly the same today. I like the scale of the town. It's very approachable.

Sometimes, even in Washington, I feel lost in the grandness of it all. Here things can be grand, but it's not sustained. Next to the big kerke is a small huis or cafe. Next to the sex shop is a food market, decidedly mixed zoning.

I think I wrote in here earlier about the live and let live attitude that seems to pervade people's interactions with each other. People (at least those who are not tourists) are also unfailingly civil.

I guess part of the appeal of it to me, is that I grew up in that kind of atmosphere. I think because people live so on top of each other here, they give each other lots of private room. Of course, that can make people seem distant or cold, but people's outer lives seem to mesh better.

So, I have my morning coffee in De Kostery. It's a very cozy, pleasnt establishment, and the help already recognize me (I've been in here three days straight). From here, I go to the Internet cafe, then onto the newstand. I'll probably go back to the hotel, then head to the Groningen Museum. I want to get to the sauna, as well. We'll see. It sounds like a busy day, already.

On the way to the museum, I walked through the open air market. It's quite extensive, and has sections for vegetables, meat, fish, poultry, and everything else. Each shop sells only one type of item: all fish, all vegetables, all spices. It's like a very large supermarket with lots of checkout stands.

Groningen Museum: Look up Hermannus Collenius, and "Cloelia is pleading..." Four really over the top oils in the Groninger Museum. Also, "Veturia, Volumnia, and Coriolanus" and "Cimon and Pero." All of Hermannus' woman have big round eyes, and inevitably a breast has wrestled loose from it confines. This guy really has a breast fixation.

I'm in the middle of an exhibit of Hendrix Werkman (1882 - 1945). He was a print artist. "Chassidic Legends." Also abstract. Some very haunting images. Apartness. Harbinger of the Holocaust? A group walking into the woods. Three figures in front of Dutch houses, increasingly stooped over. Two figures in a boat on a wild ocean. An old man on the beach. A carriage pulled by wild horses. A couple under a huppa. A man in the foregraoud at temple. A carriage in the woods. A man in a hallway opening a door. A lonely man on a busy city square. A couple dancing in the candlelight. A fanciful bird flying over a man. A dark man with a white spirit.

The coffee and teapot exhibit, includes the eleven sets commissioned by Alessi, plus many examples of local silversmiths since the 17th century. Coffee and tea are a lot more than drinking liquid. Alessi comissioned eleven architects to design coffee and tea services modeled on the market square. All of them are interesing. Some are exceptional.Aldo Rossi, Paolo Portoghesi, Michael Graves and Hans Hollein.

More teapots upstairs - porcelain. High relief, deorated flowers. (All of this is part of a larger porcelain exhiit from the East Indies Trading Company.) Examples salvaged from a shipwreck in 1645. De Geldermalsen. Pronk Parasol Ladies. Tulip vases, Chinese Kraak imitated by Delft. Blue undergaze, rarely human figures, Bhuddist and Tao good luck symbols.

Just up the street from the museum is the Mini-Museum, which has an exhibit about the Jewish community in Gronigen before and during WWII. The shopkeeper gave me a personal presentation. It was very moving. Almost everyone was killed, including 500 children. Now the synagogue often cannot assemble a minyan. I bought some postcards.

I also inadverdently discovered Groningen's redlight district. It's on Nieuwstad. Evidence suggests the Groninger men prefer zaftig women, at least when they pay for it.

I went to the Internet Cafe, then to the sauna. Tim sent me a wonderful email. It's a keeper. The sauna was very, very nice. It pretty much confirmed my notion about Dutch members. That certainly didn't stop me from enjoying myself. No penetration, and an awful lot of rubbing. It had a wonderful Finnish sauna as well as a steam room and whirlpool. Of course there were dark rooms upstairs.

I met a guy, Dik in the sauna. Among other things, we had a very long conversation about the Netherlands and the US. It's the longest conversation I've had with a Dutch person. We talked about politics, Pim Fortuyn, George W, Colin Powell, religion.

Dik comes from a small village outside of Groningen (about 12 km away). He comes to the sauna about once or twice a month. It was really a wonderful conversation, and confirmed some of my notions that Americans in many of their attitudes are very different from the Dutch. So after sodomy, we just lay there talking, this deep, sometimes passionate conversation, interrupted by the sometimes loud rutting sounds around us. A little surreal, it was a very human face on a wonderful vacation.

I guess the reason we talked is because we had plenty of reason to be close for a long time, and when we started talking, it just happened. I feel like I can't have extended conversations with most people, because they are always doing something, waiting on customers and so forth. So in a sauna after sex, I get to connect. Incidentally, Dik told me that he doesn't even own a computer. I wonder how widespread computer use is over here.

Well, I'm back at the hotel from dinner. I ate at De Brasserie, which was listed as a Dutch restaurant, but is really more French. I had a very nice meal - duck breast, I think there's a theme building here. I also had a waiter who translated the menu for me, which was immensely helpful. He was also very cute, which was an added bonus.

While I have only run into one person here in the Netherlands who does not speak English, the English they speak is somewhat different than US English. For one thing, it's devoid of colloquial expressions. It's more formal, and sounds kind of odd as a result.

Most speakers have good pronunciation, and they are happy to talk with you in English. I think generally, they want to know about us, and again, they want us to enjoy our time here in the Netherlnnds.