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Well, what can I say.

On the 11th of July 2010, I was in a noisy Dutch bar just off Museumplein Amsterdam dressed in orange, screaming and shouting for the three hours leading up to the World Cup finals. The shouting continued for the better part of 116 minutes of the match - standing on a couch in the bar which had a little more space than a peak time Mumbai local.

Everyone knows what happened in the match, so I won't go into the details. I'm no football expert for sure, with my interest only taking off this year after moving to Holland. This post is about the atmosphere of Amsterdam and the reactions and attitudes of the its people.

On the day of the finals, the eyes were saturated with orange and the ears were near-deaf with vuvuzelas and the odd irritating airhorn. When we got to Amsterdam, three hours before the match, Museumplein was teeming with people. (More than a lakh, I'm now told).

Being a drop in the sea of orange was not for us, not just because it was noisy and loud, but because we were too short to even see the screen. Which is logical when you consider the fact that the Dutch are the tallest people in the world. The next best option was to head to a bar, and we walked into the first one that proclaimed "WK Finale" or such like at its doors.

The match was actually quite riveting for us, the battle of wills between two teams was interesting to watch. Some straightforward missed opportunities and some amazing saves by Stekelenburg generated tremendous noise.

The Dutch crowd was friendly and the wife and I had good company. There was a young guy who turned his flirtatious energies from Girl 1 to Girl 2 because he saw Girl 1 kissing another guy. This guy also bought us a couple of beers because he spilled two drops of water where we were sitting. Then there was a wise, older man who educated me with:

• The Dutch translation of "He is a duck penis", every time a Spanish player took an Oscar-worthy dive or Mr Webb decided to exercise his arm. 
• Andre Hazes and the song that is the title of this blog post. 
• The fact that the Dutch national anthem (the oldest in the world) actually honours the Spanish king. (Video below)

The real irony of it is that the Cup was won by a country that is quite divided. Not everyone in Spain was cheering for the team, and some were even betting against it. On the other hand, almost everyone in the Netherlands was dressed in orange, hoping to prove Paul the octopus wrong and make the most of their World Cup finals appearance after 32 years. I still think their achievement of reaching the finals is commendable considering how small the country is in terms of sheer numbers.

In contrast with the pre-match din, there was a murmured silence after the goal in the second half of extra time. Unlike India, where the silence manifests only in the stadium where Sachin Tendulkar gets out or the opposing team hits a boundary, this quiet was present in the bar, on the streets of Amsterdam and followed us onto the train, all the way to Utrecht.

People kicked the odd beer can on the street, complained about Webb and looked despondent as they held their heads in their hands, sitting by the streets. But the silence was not accompanied by any aggression. I didn't hear anyone shouting or making a nuisance, and that was a nice thing to see.

Somewhere in the middle of the match a beverage influenced Dutch fan asked me, "Have you ever seen an atmosphere like this?" I answered his rhetorical question with a quiet "Yes", thinking of the recent IPL. A tinge of homesickness surfaced as I reminisced the days when my brother, father and I watched every single ball of a test match. Come to think of it, my answer probably broke the man's heart; but for him and the millions of Dutch fans around the world, there was much more to follow.

Garbage boy - evidence

I have received millions of e-mails from loyal fans of the blog saying that Garbage boy is not real. They claim that it's just something I made up because I'm running low on ideas. To them I say today - Ha!

I present to you photographic and video (with captions) evidence of the existence of the little creature. The photos below document the walk to the garbage bins. You will notice throughout the pictures his tendency to get distracted.

The video shows the learning curve and how perseverance, in the end, pays off. Garbage throws the last bottle without any assistance from Father Garbage.

Travel photos from Holland and around

This is not the sort of thing I usually do on my blog, but given how quiet it's been in here for the past month or so, thought I'd upload some photographs which I've been recently been clicking on my travels.

Plus there's a BlogAdda contest going on. And to all those questions that have been flooding in, no this is not going to become a contest only blog.







Keukenhof in the Netherlands is known for its annual flower show, the highlights of which are the tulip gardens in all kinds of colours. These caught my eye, I found it hard to decide between the two. Which one of these do you like?



Aah. Barcelona. The land of Gaudi, sangria, Camp nou and Tapas. Here, an over-exposed shot nicely captures the night we walked there. It was bright, vibrant, colorful and alive. This picture is worth four adjectives. :)



When visiting the leaning tower of Pisa, Italy, many skip the Baptistry which is one of the monuments inside the complex. I found it to be very intriguing, especially the design which makes a single note sound like a chord. (Example) The structure is not round, but divided in eight equal parts, like the notes in a scale, and these blend with each other. Here, I used my (believe it or not) cellphone camera to capture light streaming in from two windows.



Among many things, Holland is famous for its water-related engineering feats, and its windmills. The dikes are present all over the country. This photograph was taken at Kinderdijk (translation: child dike) which is just off Rotterdam and has many such picturesque windmills. Everywhere you look in this world heritage site, it's a postcard moment.



Antwerp is just a couple of hours by train from where I live in Holland and isn't really known for its zoo. At least that's not what I went for. While inside, I found this interesting bit of art (?) in it. A tree with a bicycle for its eyes. What do you think?

These photos are also on my Flickr stream. Keep checking in, who knows, I might probably add more later.

PS: This contest is sponsored by pringoo.com, a site that lets you print custom t-shirts, stickers and more. Heck, who knows you could probably print one of my awesome photos from here. ;)

Garbage boy gets springing

So winter has well and truly passed here in the Netherlands and the flowers are signaling the coming of spring. This colorful deception fails to work on my body, which summarily classifies anything below 20 degrees celsius as "frickin' freezing".

Garbage boy is looking more human by the day though sans the winterwear that he was once ensconsced in. He is Dutch and his parents probably think anything above 5 degrees is reason enough to get that winterwear off him.

Today he is in a spanking new tricycle, manfully pushing those pedals along with his podgy little legs. He is also armed with a formidable load of paper trash.

Slowly and carefully, under the watchful eyes of mum, he takes the scraps of paper and puts them down the bins intended to swallow paper. Not to be outsmarted by gravity, he peers in to ensure his refuse has reached its destination. In doing so, he very nearly goes down the hole. All is well though for the garbage world, as he is rescued by his mum who pulls him back out before it's too late.

After the job is done, he cycles with all his might, his tiny legs forming a blur around the pedals. The purpose in his way leads one to believe that he has sensed some garbage in the vicinity.

Sugar fronts and cyclical reproductions

Today's ToI has a headline 'PM admits failure on sugar front'

"If there is a failure of ---, it is with regard to sugar... we have not been able to find a practical and pragmatic way to deal with the cyclical behaviour of sugarcane reproduction"

(emboldening and ommission mine)

The statement, of course, was no consolation for this dejected soul who has had a difficult life because of repeated frontal failures by parent sugars.

In unrelated news, another long awaited product for men is finally out in the market.

Yes, while the wife is sincerely hunting for groceries in the retail store, I'm off snickering at funny sounding products and taking pictures. It's quite a shame.

Temperature tantrums

All said and done, the human body is a completely arbit work of art.

Take this for example: the temperature rises to 7 degrees Celsius in Utrecht, Netherlands and I see the first set of people in t-shirts. Back home in Chennai, the temperature dips below 30 degrees and invisible ear muffs become all the rage to fight the 'cold'.

As Amit Varma would say, such it goes.

The random adventures of garbage boy

Since I've moved to the Netherlands, I've seen a lot of strange and amusing things. People, of course, have always been the most amusing of these sights. Especially this one kid that my wife and I call 'Garbage boy'.

In this country, everyone is obssessed with cleanliness in a way that cannot even be dreamt of in Chennai unless you stay in Poes Garden. Garbage boy embodies this principle. Before you start visualising a ragged kid cleaning up the streets, let me correct that picture. Garbage boy must be about two years old and is made up mostly of winterwear. He waddles across the street with the help of his mother and two siblings and is most enthusiastic about throwing garbage in the differently coloured bins they have here, some for paper, some for bottles and some others for things I've not translated yet.

After the waddling, the boy arrives and stares transfixed at his mother as she begins to toss bottles in the bins. His mother eventually yields and gives him some precious garbage to throw in the cans. The first time around she didn't estimate the child's enthusiasm correctly, so she had to stand around for half an hour after her garbage was over while garbage boy patiently picked up every inch of garbage from the surrounding 3 km radius. Even after that the boy had to be dragged away from the bins and tossed it into the bins.

Today garbage boy was made up of even more winterwear. He came with the same gang to play in the snow that has been piling up in the town for the last couple of days. He didn't seem to realise that they had come out to play, so he kept waving at buses while his siblings maimed each other with snowballs. After a couple of buses, his mom gently turned him in the direction of the sled which was on top of a 4 ft high mound. After  serious effort, he has now successfully trekked scaled it.

At this moment, garbage boy is pointing at something in the snow and his whole entourage is huddled around him. Who knows - maybe he's found a piece of garbage.

Parent friendly blogpost

In India, we take a lot of things for granted. Some of these are:  

• Garlic breath 
• Freedom to ask personal questions
• Per second mobile billing
• Freedom to drive on the wrong side of the road
• Garlic farts
• Freedom to walk on the road
• Men holding hands with men without being emotionally involved and
• Sunlight

I actually wanted to write about the last point, but thought I'd generally make up a list filled with other random items so that you read whatever follows. Smart, huh?

  

So as I was saying, only when one is freezing one's balls off, does one realize how regular the sunlight (and heat) is throughout the year at one's equatorially proximate (are those even real words?) country.

 

Going to office in winter-time Netherlands is muchos depressing when at 8 in the morning, it's still like 4 am in India. The mind plays tricks on me and says, "It's only, 4 am, machan. Sleep some more. That alarm clock and digital clock and wristwatch are all wrong, da." It's only recently the mind has started speaking English with a Tamil twang.

 

And even if you manage to finish work on time (hahahaha), which is to say, around 5 PM, it's already twilight. This means that only way to get rid of depression and warm up is using alcohol. And that's a valid reason. And I need to provide valid reasons since my parents are possibly reading this. No, mom and dad, I haven't done a blog cleanup or become an alcoholic. See how nice I am?
 
"WTF kinda blog post is this, machan? Third class quality, I say!"
 
I know, I know. I will improve.

Sinterklaas

Today I tell you about the elaborate hoax that is SinterKlaas.

The concept of Santa Claus comes from the legend of SinterKlaas, which is a big part of the culture in this part of the world. The name itself is derived from Saint Nicholas and the story goes that SinterKlaas comes by boat from Spain every year and stays here for a few days, going all over the place, giving gifts.

A colleague told me that his child's school had a programme complete with sacks of gifts and Sinterklaas and his helpers Zwarte Piets (translation: Black Petes) making an appearance. Even now you see kids dressed in Sinterklaas hats or blackened faces walking around the place.

The illusion is maintained through National TV, where the man's arrival is covered with more ferocity than the news. There are also micro tales around the larger story that are fabricated.

For example, they may say that the Zwarte Piets' balloons drifted away and now they cannot welcome the old man unless the kids go out and find them all. And, of course, that means that parents need to go plant balloons around the house so that the child might find them to extend the illusion.

The whole thing's quite cute actually and the folks here make a really big deal of it all, since it's a big part of the year for the little humans. Tomorrow (well, it's past midnight, so I should say today) is the feast day for Sinterklaas. And that's the day of giving gifts. That's nice. I hope my wife knows. And you too, dear reader. I hope you know. That tomorrow you can give me a gift. A nice one.

Happy Sinterklaas feast to ye all. And if you're interested in knowing more, you know where to go!

[Photo courtesy: Wikipedia]

On another note, I am contemplating calling my blog Daily Humor and knowledge now. What a resource it must be for all my readers who haven't yet given me a gift and yet read this so guiltlessly.

Strange love's awesome story

As far as laws go, a couple of things need to change in India, especially the one regarding drinking in public places such as movie theaters. I know it's a big step, but then how else can one tolerate movies like Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani?

The day started off well enough, with a bike trip around Amsterdam which included a 12 km cycle route courtesy Mike's Bikes. This was followed by a leisurely stroll around the heart of the city and dinner at a Sports Bar with rowdy English fans falling all over the place. So since I wanted to end the day on a high, I really had to take some serious action. I'm not talking about something as pedantic as smoking a joint or having magic mushrooms. I'm talking APKGK.

Sometimes when things are terrible, you must be an optimist and look at the positives. So, since I'm feeling generous, I must say this:

• Ranbir Kapoor is so cute. and
• Beer makes a crap movie better.

These were the two factors that kept me going throughout the collection of super cliched jokes and situations including the mandatory chase sequences, 'funny fight scenes', corny love story, forced acting and ridiculous co-incidences like the hero and leading lady both being vegetarian and (horrors) stammering when they're upset.

Despite such ridiculous situations there was one brilliant joke in the movie where (Spoiler alert) Salman Khan (playing himself) gets introduced to Katrina Kaif and admonishes Ranbir for introducing her almost as though she was Sallu's own girlfriend. Very nicely done, despite Salman's accent.

However, the magic realism really became too much though when random pre-independence British authorities and Jesus Christ made their appearance to push the story line into oblivion. In terms of performances, Upen Patel gives a stellar performance in his role of irritating guy 1, Katrina Kaif still tries to act despite looking so good and did I say that Ranbir Kapoor is very cute? However, some of the supporting cast including Darshan Zariwala as RK's father acted as glue to keep the crap together.

Overall, I would say if you're in a theater filled with people who laugh at nonsenical jokes, have the permission or gumption to carry alcohol to the movie, or have just had a generally bad day, this might be a way of killing of some valuable time. For what it's worth, I would like my 3 hours back.

Final destination. Err... almost.

So after some dillying and much dallying, the wife and I have arrived in the Netherlands. There was much consternation on the way here what with me misplacing my documents and losing access to my Forex card pin, all of which I had neatly placed in the file of 'most important documents'. This file I promptly left at the Chennai airport, making the 'safe file' the single most foolhardy concentration of risk in my life.

In the weeks leading upto the trip, I was convinced many times that I was not supposed to arrive here. A-la the 'final destination' series, the signs were there all over the place. An autorickshaw driver almost getting me killed by going the wrong way on a one-way flyover, the Lufthansa person at the counter asking me to lose the luggage to arrive at the right weight, the attorneys screwing up my visa application, and upon arrival a coin being swallowed by a hungry phone machine when I tried to call the driver who hadn't arrived were just some of the events that had me convinced that this was not meant to be. Heck, every time there was a little turbulence, I found myself thinking, "This is it." However, wonder of wonders I have arrived to new experiences and challenges.

First impressions. Autumn is on. (View outside my house)

This place could sure use some of the Chennai sun. Heck, even 1% should do the trick. I was admonished by some of my friends here when I turned the heating in my home up to 26 degrees. They complained that my house was an oven and visiting us made their baby sick. And here I was thinking that 26 was cool, prime weather. Need to get the Chennai out of me very quickly.

Second impressions, there was most excellent girl-girl action at the airport arrival, and there are numerous porn channels on TV and nudie books on sale at the supermarkets. Yes, yes, there may be a lot more to experience in this country, but what to do, my mind is like this only. Also, people are generally cordial and everyone seems to have a dishwasher. Whether these two facts are related, I do not know.

Thanks to friends' advice, so far I have discovered gorgeous stroopwaffels and an awesome Italian place with the most indulgeous ham, egg and cheese pizza you could ever imagine. I intend to try the cumin cheese some time which, I'm told, rocks. Also, I have been warned of the perils of walking on what are dedicated 'cycling paths'. (There are no hawkers on the pavements!) I know, how stupid, right? I mean, you just cycle anywhere you want where I come from, and we fear not death, because travelling by any mode of transport is dangerous enough.

So anyway, I have now somewhat settled down and I will be kind enough to provide my reader(s) with some more of the entertainment that they have suffered from in the past. Heck, maybe I might even be regular. Who knows? It's a brave, new world.