Friday, June 18, 2004

HOLLAND TRIP PART 2: Red Lights, Green Lights and Lightning Bolts

Tiredness has caught up with me- I’m falling asleep at the keyboard, but I’m determined to get this done. The sooner I do this, the sooner I can get all my other writing projects finished. And Wondershot, this one might make you think twice about Holland's hospitality ^_^; Day Three, Part 2: Aimless Ambling in Amsterdam The metro journey to Amsterdam Central Station was thankfully very short and sweet. Amsterdam, on the other hand, is almost anything but short or sweet. I don’t think it’s the size of London, but it’s at least as easy to get lost in. The buildings are incredibly tall and a lot are incredibly pretty. Central Station itself and a lot of the buildings around it are fantastically Gothic-looking. The only thing that offsets this is that huge amount of people lurking about the station and the number of trams, cars and bicycles going to and fro everywhere. I’d been warned prior to arriving that pickpockets were rife in Amsterdam, especially around the station and Red Light districts. And sure enough, while we were queuing to get onto the coach, Steve noticed a girl weaving her way very closely between us. He gave her a loud ‘Oi!’, and she scarpered smartish. Thank god we had Tamar with us. She’s actually Dutch, which helped a lot with negotiating travel, fares and directions. She found out which tram it was that took us nearest to the hostel, and also found out how much each of us would have to pay. Without her, I doubt we’d have gotten as far. Well, we might, but we’d have had to walk it. On the way down to the hostel, the tram passed a great-looking comics shop- Vandal Comix. I vowed to return. The hostel itself was definitely not what I expected it to be. I wasn’t entirely sure exactly what I was expecting, but this wasn’t really it. I guess I’d always imagined something with carpets, a reddish interior, metal bunks, nice, ornamental-looking wooden doors and various communal areas to sit and relax. What we got was a rather old-looking building with blue-brick or yellow painted walls, tiled floors, cold rooms, dorms that fitted 14-18 people, with groups of two or three bunks separated by a flimsy wooden sheet, leaky and smelly bathrooms, two sofas outside the bedrooms that you couldn’t sit and talk on anyway because there were usually some people sleeping or smoking on them… okay, it wasn’t all that bad, but I’m sure there were nicer places we could have stayed… or at least somewhere a little further into the city centre might have been nice. As it was, it tended to take us at least 20 minutes to get anywhere, and that was if you didn’t get lost and walked at constant speed. The place was called The Shelter, and it’s a Christian Youth Hostel where people can stay without fear of people coming in with drugs or alcohol. Unfortunately, it’s also a place where people don’t have to fear mixed dorms. The boys’ and girls’ rooms are on two completely different floors, and members of the opposite sex aren’t even allowed into the little waiting area between the bedrooms and bathrooms of either set. And, there’d been a mix-up with the numbers, so two of the guys were in a different dorm to the other five. At least it wasn’t one on his own, but it was still rather an inconvenience. Things were looking a bit grim for the Amsterdam Hostel party… Meanwhile, our tutor was in a really posh hotel right next to the central station- The Victoria Hotel. Needless to say, we were somewhat jealous. Especially when we heard that his bed could fit about six people inside it… After setting our stuff inside our various bedrooms and trying to convince the people on the front desk to move the remainder of the guys into some beds in the dorm with five guys in, we had a look around. There was no-one else sleeping in any other rooms at that time, so we didn’t have to worry about waking anyone else. It was a pity we couldn’t all have been in the same room. Not that I’d intend to do the dirty with anyone on the course, but simply because it’d be like a big IA group sleep-over. I love them; I’ve not had a decent one in ages, heh. One thing I was most looking forward to about Holland was getting to know everyone better- even though I know everyone likes me, I can’t help but feel a little isolated from time to time. I guess had I been more confident at the beginning of the course, more people might have taken notice of me. I’m really only now starting to feel really comfortable with my standing, but even now it’s not really set yet. But I digress. We decided that that night we should meet up with John and all go out for a meal. So we walked up to the Victoria and then walked back into the centre of town to try and find somewhere that everyone wanted to eat at. After an extensive search (and two detours through unopened red-light districts), we ended up at The Grasshopper, which was three floors tall- one was a coffee shop (if I need to explain it to you, don’t ask), one a bar and the other a steakhouse. And the steaks were very steaky indead ^____^ I don’t think I’ve had a nicer kebab-thing, although the onions really burnt my throat for some reason. When we’d finished, we went to another bar for a drink and then set off on a night I won’t soon forget… The Long Night Since the red-light districts are such a tourist attraction in Amsterdam, we thought it’d be worth a look. Some of us wanted to try and see a live sex show too, although our searches for a decent, cheap one ended up fruitless. Jez was absolutely pissed. So, in my infinite wisdom, I thought I should try and support him through the streets. Him wandering off on his own in dangerous parts of town might not be too good an idea, after all. The thing is, Jez is incredibly intelligent anyway, so even when he’s drunk everything he says makes sense. It’s just far more relaxed and he doesn’t walk so well. He greeted us outside the bar we just exited, holding a tumbler of wine. “Jez, do you think you should give the glass back to the bar?” “Nah, they won’t mind.” That glass never saw the pub again. Our first excursion into the red-light district was incredibly intimidating, moreso than the already-crowded streets of normal Amsterdam. Every few metres there’d be some guy in dirty clothes shaking or gibbering, and if you passed too closely they’d try and sell you drugs. The smaller alleyways are so crowded; at times you feel you’d rather jump into a canal than try and walk past all these people gawping at the prostitutes in the window or ogling the items in the sex shops. The first person in a neon-red lit window we saw was actually a bloke… but if you didn’t know what to look far, you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell. It’s so different to what I’m used to seeing. Actually seeing these people offering their bodies for money seems almost inhuman. Some were actually on the phone while sitting and waiting for people to go past. I’d never do anything like that. Even if I was desperate I could never bring myself to have cold, empty sex with someone who only wants your money. I can’t help but feel sorry for them. What would make them want to do that? I know it’s not always choice, but you’d think there’d have to be something else they could do. We saw three guys come out of one door at once, all shouting triumphantly to each other and throwing their fists into the air. I felt sickened. All the while, I was still holding Jez, who was slightly less drunk than he was before. It was hard trying to keep up with the rest of the group, though. And what I didn’t know until two days later was what almost happened whilst we were a few metres behind them in an alleyway… Three large black men in leather coats moved towards us. I didn’t see- I was too busy concentrating on Jez. One of the guys up ahead turned round to find out where we were, and saw one take out a switchblade. Quickly, he gathered everyone else up and brought them back to us, whereby the three guys disappeared back into the darkness. I can’t believe I didn’t see, or at least didn’t keep as close to them. But they prey on people who have an encumbrance (i.e. me trying to hold Jez). At least there would have been two of us. Had it been one or the other on their own Lord knows what might have happened. Especially as some members of the group have a tendency not to wait for those following behind them… I’m so grateful to Robbie, though. If he hadn’t seen I’d probably be dead now. Or at least severely wounded. Needless to say, that’s something I haven’t told my parents about. After that happened (unbeknownst to me), some of us wanted to go into an Erotic Museum. But, the other part of some of us decided that we’d rather go back to the hostel and sleep. It had been a long day after all, and the red-light districts aren’t exactly relaxing places to stay. So, five of us returned to our bedsit. It must have been about half past twelve when we got back. We sat in the outside area for a while and talked, then another section of our group returned and asked whether Holly, Tamar and Lucinda had come back. We said we didn’t know- we presumed they went clubbing. The curfew for the hostel was due at 2:00am, after that time they’d have to sleep outside until the doors opened at 8. Needless to say, this concerned us a little. Every time the doorbell went, we went to check who it was. It was never them. We tried using the payphone at reception to try and get hold of them, but all of their mobiles responded with a garbled Dutch message, which we can only presume meant ‘This number is unavailable’. 2:00am came and went. We stayed up for a further half an hour to see if we could persuade the guys at reception to let them in if they turned up late, but no-one came. Giving up, we decided to go to bed and hope that they’d found a place to stay. Back in the dorm, someone was snoring like a steam train. And I mean like a bloody steam train. It was actually the loudest noise I’d ever heard whilst trying to get to sleep. I was surprised no-one else noticed, but then it was emanating from the guy sleeping in the bunk above me, so I received pretty much all of the noise that everyone else didn’t. The blanket we were given was very thin. I didn’t have my pyjamas with me that night, so I had to sleep in my boxers, which always makes me feel a little uncomfortable. Added to that was the stress of not having a clue where Holly, Lucinda and Tamar were; it didn’t make for a good recipe for sleep. But what came next topped it all off. It started to rain. But not just in any form. This was a full-blown thunderstorm right over the centre of Amsterdam. And our building was on the top storey, so every single raindrop, every lightning strike was heard in pitch-perfect surround sound. I eventually fell asleep when the noises subsided at about five-thirty in the morning. Day 4: Museums, Museums, Mus…what the hell is that guy doing to the cow? At 7:30, I woke up. Two hours of sleep. Tim and I left our dorm to be greeted by Lucinda, whereupon it emerged that she, Holly and Tamar had actually arrived back before us, but had gone straight to bed. So we waited up for no reason whatsoever. I’m not assuming anything ever again. The events of last night notwithstanding, we wanted to leave early to get to the Anne Frank museum before the queue became too large. And even at 9:20 it was pretty huge, trailing around the corner of the building. Jason was very annoyed that we hadn’t got there for 9 on the dot, but as it was the queue moved pretty quickly. Inside was fairly stark. I’ve never actually read Anne Frank’s diary, but now I’m really interested in doing so. It was an incredible experience, actually going into the infamous house with the secret annex at the back and hearing about everything they had to endure whilst in hiding. I felt pretty harrowed, and I hardly knew anything about it beforehand. There was no furniture in any of the rooms, which was a bit of a disappointment- it might have felt a more rewarding experience to have seen more aspects of their original life. I guess they removed them to get more visitors through and to prevent damage to the items themselves. The road systems in Amsterdam seem very confusing, probably because they drive on the opposite side of the road to the UK. So if you look left first and see nothing there, you turn around and suddenly see this car right up your arse. And the cyclists think they own the road because they have priority over cars. So they sail down their specially-made cycle paths, not caring about any pedestrians that might happen to walk onto them. And they don’t even bother about traffic lights, some of them. It’s ridiculous. It could be perfectly safe to cross in terms of the little green man light in front of you, but then this idiot-nutter-psychopath cyclist rushes past, swearing bloody murder at you in Dutch because you were in his way. I must say, that’s one thing I don’t miss. After the Anne Frank Museum, three of us went shopping. I went into the Vandal Comix shop and was very satisfied, even though I didn’t get anything. So long as I’m able to have a look, I’m never disappointed in shops like that. Would have been nice if they’d had some Cyber Spawn goodies, though >.> After that, we met up with everyone else and had lunch, before going into the Sex Museum. The Sex Museum in Amsterdam is a very odd place, and certainly not for those with strong views about sex, pornography and… bestiality. I’ve never seen so many rude statues in all my life. But the odd thing is, these have been around since the early Stone Age. People who thought pornography is a modern invention are sadly mistaken. It’s been around for centuries, but only in the last few decades has it really been exploited and made more obvious. Even in mainstream programmes, there are far more references to sex than there would have been ten or twenty years ago. There are thousands of pictures, paintings and light-up/moving displays in the sex museum, including one or two hands-on activities… most of which are what you might expect until you get to the De Sade room… BDSM, bestiality, sadomasochism, whips, bindings, chains, things about the diameter of a wine bottle going into places they shouldn’t… it was pretty disgusting stuff. Thankfully that was the end of the tour, so we could leave and do something completely different to get our minds off it ^_^; Jez and I went back to the dorm for a rest. I started listening to my .hack//SIGN tapes and started to drift off to sleep when Jason came in, telling me that he’d just seem a car drive into the canal. I still don’t know whether the driver or her two dogs were safe. That evening we went for another restaurant meal (which is where most of everyone’s money went) and went down to the Damraq square to meet some of Tamar’s friends. They were very friendly, and agreed to take us to a karaoke bar. Unfortunately, the original bar we were due to go to was in the middle of a particularly nasty red-light district, and a really strange old lady told us that we’d get murdered if we weren’t careful. A big split then occurred as to where we should go. We bundled into the nearest pub and decided from there what was due to happen. I, along with several others, decided that we wanted to head back to the hostel, so we did. The rest followed much later on. Day 5: More of the Same We woke up much later on the Sunday morning than we’d intended, but it was probably no bad thing. We all needed some sleep, and that extra two hours helped… a little. I can’t actually remember too much about what we did on the Sunday- it was agreed that everyone wanted to go on a pedalo ride at some point, but you weren’t able to take any before 3:00 in the afternoon, which gave us quite a lot of time to try and find other things to do. A group of us (about six, I think) went to the Medieval Torture Museum. We were due to see it the day before, but there were only three of us and we got lost trying to find it. It cost 5 Euros and was actually much smaller than we thought. But I thought it was really interesting, if a little gross. Not in the same way that the Sex Museum was, but it’s almost on the same level. All these sketches of disgusting torture devices… Camp X-Ray’s got nothing on these. The body saw that cuts lengthways down the body whilst the prisoner is suspended upside down by ropes, the wooden spike that people are sat on and than attached weights to… After a lovely ham and cheese toasted sandwich (which bowl of ketchup to dip it in ^____^), Jason and I took a trip across Amsterdam to see the Dutch Resistance Museum, and that was incredible. Not only was the subject interesting, but the displays were fantastically well-made. We considered going to the Amsterdam zoo after that, but we didn’t have enough time or money. I was a little disappointed, but I really wanted to pedalo around the canals. The pedalo ride wasn’t very exciting, but gave us good exercise. And with the amount of pizza that I’d eaten the previous night, I was sure glad of that. There were several near-misses with these massive canal boats that give people tours of the intricate waterways of the city. They’re large, and a tiny fibreglass pedalo with a deposit worth £30 really won’t stand up to it. Speedboats are a slight problem too, as they instinctively expect you to get out of the way. They’re much less arrogant than the cyclists, though. I have many pictures of the pedalo tour we did. That night was the night of the first England match of Euro 2004, which hundreds of pubs were screening all over the city. While most of us went out for a meal at an Italian restaurant, others went to watch the match. As another testament to the confusion Amsterdam causes to people who don’t know it very well, we got lost trying to find a night-club that some of the others had bee to previously, called the Bulldog. Apparently it was a really nice club that played oldish music and had a karaoke bit for people to play around in. The problem was, neither of the people we were with could remember where it was, and the guy who gave us directions directed us to one with the same name but in a completely different place to the other. It turns out that there are six Bulldog clubs in Amsterdam. None of the four that we found were right, so in the end we gave up and went back to the hostel for our final night in Amsterdam… In all, I enjoyed the weekend off in the city. There were some scary moments (the red light district, almost having my Digital Camera nicked by a tramp in the Damraq, getting lost in a place where we couldn’t see anything), but it’s such a different culture to places even as big as London, it really opened my eyes. And the buildings, canals, museums and roadways were great to see. A final note about it, though. If you can, try and avoid using public toilets. The modern ones for men are literally a plastic pillar with four corners and holes in it. The older ones are metal frameworks wrapped around a divot in the ground. I never had to use one, thankfully. Next Time: Holland Trip Part 3: Venlo, Veghel and Very Nice Jumpers! P.S. I'll reveal the thumbsucking tomorrow, heh. Maddiemuse is from Venlo- her family looked after Jez for a night and she saw the show that we performed. Say hi! ^_^

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Thursday, June 17, 2004

HOLLAND TRIP PART 1: Departures, Journeys and Arrivals

Day 1: Flying and Crawling The 9th of June was a rather cloudy morning in Chichester, kind of indicative of my knowledge and anticipation as to what the trip was going to be like. There were fourteen of us due to go: our tutor John, me, Lawrence, Jez, Robbie, Steve, Jason, Tim, Celia, Camilla, Kamilla, Holly, Tamar and Lucinda. John, Jez and Jason were all going to be picked up form Worthing, and Camilla was due to meet us at Gatwick. We got off to a fantastic start, heh. The coach that had been hired was about 15 minutes late, leaving an anxious group of suitcase-laden students sitting at the front of Chichester College eating sweets. But when it did eventually turn up, we were so impressed that we instantly lost all feelings of discomfort. The vehicle that took us up to Gatwick was really strange- like some super-hybrid of minibus and coach. It had three rows of seats near the front, all covered in patterned blue carpet-stuff, and tinted windows. At the back was eight seats all facing each other like those on trains, with two small tables sitting inbetween them ^_^ Very luxurious, hehe. I’ve only ever been to Gatwick Airport once, and never to take a flight from there. I’m pretty sure it’s the biggest airport in the UK; if not it’s certainly the busiest and most famous. Large yellow signs show directions to everywhere- gate numbers, departures, arrivals, transfers, toilets, shops… it’s incredibly overwhelming, especially if you’ve no idea where you’re supposed to check in. Hundreds of TV screens attached to the ceiling give you information about all flights due to leave, but since there are at least several hundred in a day you can be waiting for about five minutes just to catch glimpse of which smiley receptionist to talk to about actually getting on the plane. The baggage system is confusing- metal objects have to be in your hand luggage, but sharp objects have to be in your suitcase. Aerosol cans have to be in hand luggage too, else they explode due to the unpressurised hold. We spent another age deliberating whether this or that would be allowed- I didn’t personally want my nice metal pen confiscated, nor my wolf pendant. It’s got a sword on the end of it- staff can get pretty fanatical about what you could use to kill people. Since you could feasibly strangle someone with a shoelace or sock, tie or shirt, you might as well ask people to go on the plane naked if you wanted no risk whatsoever. Crazy crazy. Anyway, the flight was what I was least looking forward to out of everything. Although I wanted to get it over and done with, nervous anticipation was next to killing me because I am absolutely terrified of plane flights. I’ve flown twice before- once to Newcastle from Southampton and once back along the same line. That was in a very small plane and I hated it. So, after a while of shopping (I bought a Brylcreem wax stick after discovering that my hair gel had decided to leave itself at home), eating and using the facilities, it was time to get on the plane. Everyone seemed to think I looked more scared than I actually felt; I guess my body showed more evidence of emotions I was trying to repress, heh. I felt an odd glow in the pit of my stomach, but not much more. I figured it was the onions in the panini I’d just eaten. By the time we were on the plane, I figured I’d be alright. But then we started moving. Taxiing around to the right runway seems to take forever; many jokes were exchanged about sick bags and loose wings before we were finally ready to take off. Strangely enough, I didn’t start panicking until the plane actually lifted off the ground. Moving along the runway at break-neck speed was a fantastic feeling; I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in a vehicle all my life. But then the front wheel lifted off and the plane soared into the air. I grabbed the two armrests either side of me for dear life and shut my eyes, as if me not looking was keeping the plane up in the air. Every single little movement the plane made, I felt another wave of fear shoot through my body. It must have been quite entertaining to watch, I suppose, especially with some of the things I was saying ^_^; The plane had to change altitude fairly early on, which involved a brief period of descent. I pushed myself back into my seat and hissed through gritted teeth: “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod are we supposed to be pointing down?” “It’s just an altitude change…” But half way through, Jason told me that I should make myself look out of the window, and started talking to me about other things so that I could distract myself from the fact that there was a 360,000-foot drop underneath me. It was only a 45-minute flight. We saw container ships that looked the size of ants, layers of cloud that sprawled over the skies to the horizon, like huge drifts of cotton wool. You just want to go and play around in them; they look so beautiful ^_^ So by the end I was looking out of the window constantly, and I watched the entire descent into the Schipol Airport at Amsterdam. It’s a beautiful city, even though it has its drawbacks (see Days 3, 4 and 5). But I have never felt more frightened in my entire life. And I think it’s probably more a paranoia that’s worked its way into a fear; I personally don’t think it’s good to ever grow complacent about plane travel because accidents can still happen. Far less than in any car, and British Airways has one of the best safety records in the world, but when you’re that far up there is nothing you can do if something serious goes wrong. And that’s why I think I will always have a certain fear about it. But it should be lessened now, heh. Are We There Yet? The roads in Holland are an absolute nightmare. And that is an understatement. It took us three hours to drive from the airport at the school in Rosendaal where we were due to give some workshops and a performance to six schools. Sometimes the tailbacks can be up to 120km long. The congestion caused by too many cars and poor road systems is phenomenal. And sitting in a minibus with suitcases around your legs for three hours in 25 degree heat isn’t exactly fun. But at least some of the roads are quite pretty. I counted 14 real windmills, and quite a few of the white ones that generate electricity. When we did eventually arrive in Rosendaal (two hours late), we were piled into a small room where we were given soup, bread rolls, drink and these amazing meat-croquette things. They tasted fantastic, but they’re so huge that if you eat any more than one you tend to explode. We had ten minutes to let our food go down before beginning the worskops with the 20-30 hyperactive kids, which mainly comprise of the same warm-up exercises we do in Improvisation classes- ‘My name is…’, ‘I went to the supermarket…’, ‘Bang!’ and so-on. They really seemed to enjoy themselves, including the adults. Who says you need to grow up, eh? ^_^ Our show, on the other hand, was much less successful. The long journey and hurried arrival had disorientated us quite considerably, so things didn’t go so well. I forgot my lines for “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…” for a few seconds, then blitzed through the rest of it to try and cover it up ^_^; It worked well, apparently. The ‘Hints on pronunciation for foreigners’ poem was a bit of shambles, because people forgot their words and cues and I got up at the wrong point, blah-de-blah. They didn’t know that it went wrong though, and seemed to enjoy it. The first night we were in Holland, I was due to spend it on my own with a host family. It’s a disconcerting idea, especially when you’ve no idea what to expect. But thankfully, the guy who agreed to take me in was really nice. He and his wife fed me full of crisps, strawberries, juice and biscuits, spending ages talking about films, roads, acting, dying hair and culture before I finally went off to bed. Sleep was most welcome after such a hectic day… Day 2- This could be Rotterdam, or anywhere… I didn’t get a huge amount of sleep that night. I got to sleep alright, thanks to my slew of anime and X-Japan tapes (^____^), but I got to bed late and had to wake up very early. Thankfully I didn’t have to repack much; just shove my dirty underwear into a space and get out my washbag. The new Brylcreemstick I bought is actually much better than my original stuff, which is lovely beans. One of the things I was apprehensive about was breakfast:- I have problems with eating too much too early, but more than anything I didn’t want to seem ungrateful to the host families who have so kindly accepted me into their home for a night for almost nothing in return. So I did my best to eat what they could, and they even gave me a bottle of orange juice to take with me. I couldn’t thank them enough. Rotterdam’s quite far from Rosendaal, so it was another arduous coach journey through the Dutch roads. It was made all the more arduous by the fact that I had changed minibuses by request of everyone inside the one I wasn’t in. And this minibus was worse than the first- no air conditioning, less comfy seats, more noise (from the bus itself), and much more noise form the passengers. Songs, chants, loud jokes, shouting… I almost wanted to go back into the other one, but Steve had wanted to swap. And in the end, I really enjoyed my bus, which had been dubbed ‘The Fun Bus’. The other was ‘The A-Team’. There was a slight sense of rivalry between the two bus groups, but most of it stemmed from the Fun Bus crew anyway, so it was more of a pretend rivalry. After stopping off briefly at a school somewhere between Rosendaal and Rotterdam to do another performance which was slotted in at the last minute (thanks, Anglia…), we moved on to Rotterdam; an area which looked… less-than-safe. Apparently the school was in a high-crime area, so we moved all of our bags inside the school, which had big metal bars all the way around it. The first set of workshops gave us an indication of why the area had such a high crime rate. The people inside were fairly unco-operative and didn’t understand some of the games. Others, like ‘Apples, Pears and Oranges’ (involving a ring of chairs, people designated into one of three groups and lots of running about) and ‘This is not a Chair’ (where people have to pretend that the chair in the centre of the room is not a chair and perform an action to show what it is) led to some rather rough behaviour. We were glad to get the performance out of the way so that we could have our break before the next group arrived. After lunch, we had a much younger group who were much less receptive to some of the games, mostly because they had only been studying English for a very short period of time. And shyness plays a large part in that, too. Inbetween whiles we had a very large break, in which time we ate some sub-par pizzas and played an infuriating drama game called ‘My train stops at…’. I won’t give away the game’s secret, but it becomes very obvious when you play it. The evening workshops were by far the best of the bunch. The kids absolutely loved them, and we had the loudest applause ever from them for our performance. It’s great to work in an atmosphere where you know people love and appreciate what you do. Not only do they enjoy it, but you also gain a greater enjoyment of it too. And you feel much better as a result. Our host family (I was with Lawrence this time, rather thankfully) lived in such a fantastic house- it was built in the 1920’s, and HUGE. As soon as you walk in you’re greeted by seven-foot high ceilings and a massive oak spiral staircase. A lot of the furniture was fairly modern, but it never looked out of place. And the bathroom and bedrooms were very luxurious, heh. Although the mother of the host family told me about the blinds that acted as curtains for my bedroom, I actually forgot they were there and didn’t notice them again until the next morning, by which time putting them up was redundant. I hope not too many people saw me getting changed o_o; That night we spent ages talking about Amsterdam, The Netherlands (Holland is actually only a region of The Netherlands, like the Northern Territories of Australia), families, food and performances, and got to eat some lovely Dutch cheese and sausages. The meat had such a thick skin, though- it was like trying to chew through hard leather. Seeing Lawrence trying to tear one apart with his teeth was very entertaining, heh. Day Three, Part 1: Breakfast with De Ruijters The school in Rotterdam had organised a special breakfast for us in one of the classrooms with all the students. It was fantastic ^_^ The food was great and we had a really nice time talking and playing around with the kids. The Dutch love their cheese and ham sandwiches. Whenever we were at a school, it was pretty much all we had. That and a soup of some description. As well as those though, we had some plain Dutch bread with jam and butter, alongside these little boxes of chocolate sprinkles to put on your toast, called De Ruijters (pronounced De Roight-er). I found out later that there were loads of variations of these boxes, with different shapes and flavours of sprinkles. I never tried any, though- chocolate for breakfast doesn’t sit well with me. We also had the choice of eggs and bacon and these biscuit-bread things (I think they’re called biscottes in France), but they were lovely with a dollop of marmalade on them. Yes, we ate very well then. And I took some nice pictures of the class. They all wanted our e-mail addresses, so our journey towards Amsterdam was held up by about fifteen minutes of long goodbyes and writing of e-mail addresses on any surface that was available. But eventually we had to leave our adoring fans behind (heh) and travel to another school- the Regenboorg (rainbow) school on the outskirts of the capital city of the Netherlands. Getting lost was a common occurrence in Holland. Every journey we took had a wrong turning in it somewhere along the lines, resulting in delayed journeys and frantic phonecalls to the schools to find out where we’d ended up. We figured it was because of unclear directions, because a number of different navigators to different places always resulted in a loss at some point, at least until Gijs arrived and took control of the A-Team’s bus. The Dutch have the best coffee in the world. Well, it’s Douwe Egberts, but it’s still the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. And their pancakes are rather nice, too. Very sweet, but nice. I was working with Jez in these workshops. We make a good team ^_^ he’s a really cool guy, 26 and knows a heck of a lot about life, culture and its effects; more than I do. The first group was very small, only eight pupils and one teacher. The second group was harder to control, and there was this one kid who insisted on cheating in the games he played. I actually had to hold his chair down so that he didn’t take it with him during one of the games. Rrr. Anyway, the show came and went very quickly, as they always do once you’re performing them, and we had to walk to the nearest metro (equivalent to the Underground) to take us towards Amsterdam. It was here that I discovered how noisily my wheely-suitcase squeaked. Next Time: Holland Trip Part 2: Red Lights, Green Lights and Lightning Bolts!

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Wednesday, June 16, 2004

I'm Back, Baby!

Yes, indeed I am. But I'm incredibly tired, and the first of three massive Holland posts must be written. I hope to get it done tonight and fill you all in the exciting details and everything. See you in a bit. And thanks everyone for the comments on the last post ^_^ It means a lot to me. I had a great time, hehe. Stroopwaffles!

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Wednesday, June 9, 2004

Bring Me Sunshine In Your Smile...

I'm off to Holland in a few minutes, so I doubt I'll have time to post here again until next Wednesday evening. I've been stressing out so much these last few days I've been close to crying several times and I've given myself a really sore throat, but that should clear up once we actually get going. Aah, the time is nigh... I'll miss you all, and I'll be sure to take lots of pictures (which I will show you if I can find a decent image hosting site...). I've not been away from the house for this long before. Eight days is quite a long time, but I'm sure it'll whizz past. Either way, I'm looking forward to it. Final Checks Some Solo On: topics to look forward to after my return- -Books -Writing -Love -Solo Tremaine See you soon ^_^

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Sunday, June 6, 2004

Solo On: My House ^_^

Azure, you're so rude! ^_~ Anyway, My house is called Chinthay, and sits in a small village (well, technically it’s a Hamlet, because it’s not even big enough to be a village) called Hambrook, sitting right on the western edge of the county of West Sussex. Assuming you were coming to visit, the first thing you’d notice would be the road leading to my driveway. At the moment it’s almost overgrown with stinging nettles and trees that form a tunnel-like canopy over the top. Think the rocky path at the beginning of Spirited Away, only bigger. The road’s about that uneven, too: we (being the residents of the lane) resurfaced it using a tractor and a roller-trailer-thing years and years ago. It’s like going over a whole set of speed bumps at different heights. So, go slowly or you’ll wreck your suspension. The next thing you’d notice about my house is the driveway and garden. We have two large gardens, and both are as nice as the other. The front’s got less in it in terms of stuff to walk around in, but it looks lovely. In the centre is a big palm tree on a raised bed, surrounded by lots of little grassy plants, and near that is another bed with a tree, some brick displays and more little plants. Flower beds almost surround the rest of the garden, which itself if bordered on three sides by tall oak and sycamore trees. Almost immediately after seeing the garden comes the house, which sits quite conveniently between the front and back gardens. From the outsdide, it looks… fairly rustic. In an Old English house kind of way. There are climbing plants climbing their planty way up the house exterior (and interior, as we discovered some months ago when a vine popped into my bedroom underneath the window). There’s a red front door to the left; part of the original house, and another door on the smaller part, which is the extension. That was built in 1993 when my grandparents were moving down to live with us and ironically, the same time that I broke my leg. One of the builders bought me a LEGO set ^___^ I’ll never forget him, heh. Inside, it’s a bit of a mess. There’s stuff on almost every single surface available, and even some of the ones that aren’t available. All these books and pieces of paper and videos and CDs and toys and bits of armour and things that you didn’t even know you had and scraps of newspaper and bits of things and pens and pencils and bits of other things and staples and furry things and figurines and junk, anything much you can think of. But it’s never what you’re actually looking for. Inside the house, there is: a sitting room, a hallway, a dining room, a study, a tiny room under the stairs (more like a cupboard, really), a kitchen, a utility room, another hallway, a toilet, a bathroom, an office, a weaving room, a spinning room (they used to be a lounge and another dining room for my grandparents before they died), a landing, four bedrooms, a library (which is where I am now, basically a small room with my dad’s science-fiction books lining the walls), a toilet, another bathroom and an attic. If you count hallways and the cupboard, it’s 22 rooms. If not, it’s only actually 19. But it’s still pretty big to most people who visit. The sitting-room’s the biggest room in the house, and it’s where most of the DVD and TV watching goes on, as it’s where the Sky Digibox sits. The sofas are nice and comfy, but rather old now. We put dustsheets and throw rugs on top to make it more comfortable, but where I like to sit is usually where other people like to sit as well, and it gets messed up rather quickly. I’m always having to readjust it >.> The bedrooms aren’t much- pretty standard stuff. The only thing that differs is the stuff, colour and furniture. My bedroom’s very red. The walls aren’t particularly dark (in fact, they’re almost white), but the floor and curtains are. I like dark reds. Burgundy, bordeaux, all sorts. My bed has either a creamy set of sheets with a blue, red and gold geometric pattern, or a black, marble-esque style, which is my personal favourite. When the room’s tidy it looks lovely. And I’ve the best view of the back garden from my room ^_^ It’s a sizeable garden, and a fantastic view in a golden-red sunset. Or even on bright sunny days. Or in the snow. Or when it’s raining… There’s a lot of development going on in the back garden. We’re building a small Japanese-style fenced-off area of the garden at the very back, with a layered pond and a lovely red Acer tree. There’s a stone pathway that cuts across a few areas of the grassy bit, although there’s still a large clear area in the middle. Big black metal fences with ornamental lights surround the raised part- the garden’s actually three to four feet higher than the floor of the house, and we’ve a patio that leads around the building, linking to the garden. We’ve huge bamboo plants growing (and spreading >.>) towards the back, near a large… um… nice tree. And there’s a compost heap behind the woodshed- oft referred to as the ‘glory hole’ or ‘beauty spot’. I put grass cuttings there once I am done de lawn-moowing. And that is bloody hard work in our gardens o_o; I very much like my house. It’s cluttered, and it would be nice to have at least some rooms tidy. But if I spent all my time cleaning then I’d never be able to relax. This place feels lived in- it’s not sterile. It’s interesting, if nothing else. Simply put, I just love living here. It’s been my home for almost 19 years; I hope it will be for some while longer.

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Saturday, June 5, 2004

Damn Good Cherry Pie...

I just watched the first season of Twin Peaks. And I really want to see the rest. Aparrently it gets much more confusing in the later episodes, and the episode guide I tried to read left me with even more confusion that I had before o_o; Ah well. With any luck, whoever it is that holds the rights to the DVDs will release Season 2 before long. They've been a really long time about it so far, much to the annoyance of all the fans. And now, continuing the trend of me ranting about subjects people have chosen for me, I give you some of Mimmi's topics ^_^ Solo On: Bowling I don't go bowling very often. In fact, I hardly do it at all. But whenever I do, it always seems to be with friends. There's a new Bowlplex thingummy opened up in Chichester, for all your bowling and pool-playing needs. They have these fantastic little bacon-flavoured crisps called Snax. They might even be more addictive than Pringles, and that's saying something. They come in a fairly large cardboard box and you do get a lot for your money. Which is alright, I suppose. NUS cards (National Union of Students) get you a discount for the actuall alleys, which is a nice addition to the surroundings. The shoes feel new whenever you slip them onto you feet. and there's always space at the end of them. A friend of mine once nicked a pair from the Chichester alley, and he wears them around town. They're pretty cool, but I wouldn't want them all the tiome. They're a litle garish, and they don't give a lot of support. But they aren't really meant for wearing over long periods of time. Ten-pin bolwing alleys feel, quite naturally, very American. There's nothing wrong with that- it's just something that springs to mind. All of the ones I've been to are very polished, and often have very large paintings of bolwing pins on the back wall. Presumably that's to show you in which direction you're meant to throw the ball, or something. I've never been fantastic at bowling. I'd often beat any friends I played with at least once in a day, but recently I've not done as well as I did. Maybe these guys have more experience than I do *shrugs*. Or maybe I'm just conscious of the fact that I'm not doing so well. Anyway, the odd thing is that when the safety sides are up, my throws travel nowhere near the gutter. Put the guards down and they're in there quick as a flash. It must be a psychological thing, unless it's pure coincidence that my crap throws always tie in with when there are no sides. The bowling trip I can remember most was when I went up to Sutton to meet the first person I'd ever had a huge crush on. It might have been more than that; I couldn't tell you,a nd even if I could I don't really feel like talking about it much now. Some other time, maybe... She and I played two games, and I won both. Then we played air hockey and table-tennis. There was this group of girls standing around near the back wall of the arcade where the table-tennis was, and the ball kept flying off into the middle of their group. We couldn't stop laughing, but they looked incredibly pissed off. After a while, we left, not wishing to engage in ping-pong related hostilities. Otherwise, my trips have mostly been for other people's birthday parties. Every now and then I use the metal ramp things used for really young kids to try and get a decent aim, usually when I'm losing pretty badly ^_^; There's no shame in that. Were I leading, it'd be controversial. If I had the chance to do it more often, I would. There should be at least once this year where I get another opportunity, though ^_~ Topics left to discuss: -Books -Writing -My House -Another one of my own choice, heh. I don't know if I'll be able to get them done before Holland. I'd like to, but meh. We'll have to see... ...do let me know if I'm being boring and/or offensive, won't you? I'd hate it if I upset anyone. Not that I expect bowling would cause copious amounts of dissent, but you never know.

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Thursday, June 3, 2004

Stage-fighting workshops are cool ^_^ Dan is cool ^_^ And what's even cooler still is that they want me to do two weeks of the stuff in the summer, which I should get paid for. Lovely lovely... erm... lexperience. Yes, the young kids absolutely adored my arsenal of weaponry- my glaive, the swords (which I'll shortly have to polish; nasty grubby little handses...), my other swords, the lot. Even the broken broomstick handles seemed interesting o_o; We gave them a demonstration of what a typical stage fight might look like, starting off with swords and then losing them to continue unarmed. And those massive holes in the floor were there before we started... honest ^_^; So yes, good day so far. A rather hot day, as well. I got my new clothes delivered today. A grey, orange and black T-Shirt and two long-sleeved tops with dragon emblems on them. Nice stuff. I had ordered a jumper as well, but the colour was rather yukky, so it's been sent back. Arundel went alright- it was pretty much the same as it always was, except this time I was in much much more armour and had incredible muscle ache on top of the injuries to my face and left arm (the bruise is still there...). When I got back on the Monday, my mum's friend was telling me all about how having your feet hurt (I had been wearing the Evil Shoes of Pain for two days straight now) can put your back out, when she decided to take a look at my back. She immediately noticed tension and mis-shape in various areas of my spine and took me into the weaving room, whereupon I was thoroughly chiropracted. I've never heard such a frightening crack o_o; Aparrently, 'the whole rack went'. Then she did my neck, which was equally discomforting. But it did feel much better afterwards. I want to learn how to do that. Holland's in six days now... it's getting rather tense, moreso because someone due to go had their passport stolen from their bag on Monday evening. I hope she'll be okay. It's possible to get it sorted out, but it costs a lot. If she can't go then we'll have our running order buggered up and we'll have less one partner pair for Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I hate thieves. If it's one thing that gets me angry more than anything else (and that includes McBloodyDonalds), it's people who deliberately take something from someone else, knowing that it's either important or valued to them. It's absolutely disgusting. I started wondering whether it might have been my fault because I didn't remind them to go to Arundel and see me. Maybe if I had then they wouldn't have gone to the nightclub and bleh... but they probably would have gone anyway; it's stupid of me to try and take something like that onto myself. But if I can take responsibility, then maybe I could do something to rectify it. That's the theory. Wouldn't work, though... One Last Thing:- Those adverts lie. I was looking at Arcadia's site, when my cursor flipped over one of the links for "Cowboy bebop dvd". Do you know what the link was actually for? A Dating club for Single Horse Lover in Your City. Register Free. 'Nuff said.

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Wednesday, June 2, 2004

Half-Update

Was going to write a full update, including an apology to everyone who needs it for me not being up to speed with things what I have said I would be (Shin, Ben, everyone in my RPGs, Lady Katana, Sara, Takuya, Kaedesan, DDG, the list goes on... and to the people who never update through not having enough time- I make far too big a deal out of this. Bleh, all I seem to do is whine about not having enough time, while everyone else that has no time actually takes the time they do have to write something worthwhile. Ah, the irony) I'll try and give a full update tomorrow, but I'm giving stage fighting workshops with Dan at a Primary School. Shouldn't be too long, but you never know. Ah, for some free time...

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Saturday, May 29, 2004

Whee Mee

Well, I'm back again, although probably not for very long. I really don't know how often I'll be able to get online until mid to late July. It'll be sporadic at best, certainly not regular. This is the only free day I've had all week. *sighs* Just don't forget about me, okay? Solo On: Movies Today's topic suggested by Molletta- a fantastic person, go visit her site now. I've missed out on her posts for the last few weeks because I've been so busy, and I'm sorry about that >.> Anyway, movies. Or, more specifically, 'What happened to good movies?' I think there's a general feeling that as special effects become more and more impressive, people will use those more to get action across than decent dialogue or fast-paced music. And to an extent I think that's what's happening. Certainly in the instance of films like The Day After Tomorrow, where acting, dialogue and story tend to be pretty crass. As much as I want to, I'm not going to go into how much the stereotyping of the nationalities irritates me. Roland Emmerich has serious problems there... *coughs* But anyway, that doesn't mean to say a film still can't be good. It just means there's a much greater scope for things you can actually do. I can think of three films off the top of my head that I really want to see that are special-effects heavy but should still be fantastic movies anyway: Shrek 2, Spider-Man 2 and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Lord of the Rings is a fantastic example of a really good movie. I don't think anything's happened to them as such; they've just adapted. And even though the special effects on LotR are really good, they don't detract from the rest of the story. And since the actors were well-chosen the characterisation didn't lose out either. When people talk to me about Lord of the Rings, it's the actors and characters they remember rather than a specific action scene. With Van Hellsing, it's the scenes they remember. And I think that goes to show the difference in film creation and focus. Hellsing didn't have great characterisation and mainly focused on the action. While Lord of the Rings contained a great deal of action as well, the focus was on the characters in the action and the real meaning of the battles themselves rather than having it in just for the sake of making it more exciting. Bad movies still get made: I hear the modern remake of Dawn of the Dead was pretty bad and lacked all the horror of the original that made it such a watchable film. I'm not even going to get started on recent Disney endeavours- I'm afraid I've gone off a lot of their stuff. But for every Atlantis there's a Spirited Away, so it balances out. Although I could probably do without hearing Lilo's voice as Chihiro again o_o; Solo On: Stage Experiences So many comments flew through my mind when I read that, heh. Erm... I'm not entirely sure which has been the best stage experience. As a whole, I'd probably say 'Bouncers', because the audience reaction was so great. It's fantastic to be on stage and hear the rapturous applause and laughs of people that you've made laugh. To get such a strong emotional reaction for any piece of drama is really what any actor strives for. There was a similar experience during an Improvisation exercise last Tuesday. Aparrently, the hardest emotion to convey on stage is love. The three words 'I love you' are some of the strongest anyone can use, so they have to have the right amount of feeling in them. The exercise was in front of the rest of the class. Two of us had to stand up and one had to tell the other that we loved them. But, we had to do it without proper words- the only vocalisations we could use were the numbers 10-1. I'd count backwards, she'd count forwards. And a set of three of the numbers had to represent the words 'I love you', and it had to be clear which those were through showing emotion in your voice. I was first ^_^; When I got to those words, [embarrassment] I hear the biggest "Aww!" I've ever heard from the rest of the girls. They just melted completely. Later, one told me she almost cried. And then my tutor told some of the other classes about how nice it was the next day >.>[/embarrassment] Go me. But even the most mundane phrases can sound powerful if they're said in the right way. The Lonely Moon, 2nd Tenchi OVA Ending Theme I am lonely like the moon You are away as the earth Now you say I light your thoughts Night after night Soon you forget We are drifting in this dance I can feel you circle my heart Keeping such a graceful distance So close but somehow apart Sometimes I cry for you Knowing you don't want me to Sometimes I whisper to the stars up in the sky That I want to find the way to your soul Kiss in the sun when the morning comes You don't seem to count the hours When we are not together I've seen a tender fire in your eyes Yet when I'm gone you carry on I float in this emptiness Till at last love returns With the night And the lonely moon I am lonely like the moon Always wanting you to be near I embrace you till the dawn Then with a smile You disappear We continue in our dance There are times I think it should end But I lose myself in rapture And we start all over again Sometimes I cry for you Knowing you don't want me to Sometimes I whisper to the stars up in the sky That I want to find the way to your soul Kiss in the sun when the morning comes You don't seem to count the hours When we are not together I've seen a tender fire in your eyes Yet when I'm gone you carry on I float in this emptiness Till at last love returns With the night And the lonely moon I love the warm emotion you bring Though there is pain, I don't complain How you can inspire me Whenever we're together Ev'ry time it's like a new song You move me so I think you know I won't even say a word In your arms or far from sight I'll be your light Like the lonely moon

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Sunday, May 23, 2004

Solo On: Chichester

Today's topics suggested by Lady Katana ^_^ Chichester has a very very long history as a town. In Roman times it used to be called Noviomagus, and it was a central hub for getting around the south of West Sussex. There's a huge Roman Palace a mile or so outside the city itself, most of which is encompassed within the Museum based on its site. It's quite a nice place, that, with lots of interesting information baout Romans, the Palace and a fairly small gift shop. Chichester itself is a city with four main streets running North, South, East and West through its centre, although none of these directly lead to anywhere much anymore. I suppose long ago they'd have been the roads to and from Portsmouth/Arundel/whatever. On them now are shops. Not very many shops, but they do their jobs. A lot seem to be disappearing for various reasons, actually. The huge MacDonalds on East Street is going, thankfully- the building it was in used to to be a cinema, and it'd be nice to see something other than a global conglomerate sitting inside such a nice building. There's not a huge amount inside Chichester that makes it really exciting, besides the Theatre that makes up most of its cultural interest. There's a cinema, bowlplex and literally hundreds of eateries, but little else outstanding. The Festival Theatre is (or certainly was) very interesting, though. Lawrence Olivier was heavily involved with its production and I think its reputation as second best theatre in the country isn't far-fetched, either. That is, unless I'm misremembering it. It's certainly very prestitious, and there are often celebrities running about the place. I saw Pete Postlethwaite on Chichester Station once. He was being haggled by some girls (and, admittedly, by my friends too. Rrr...). But then, since when was a long brown trenchcoat, bright red scarf and flat cap inconspicuous. The problem with fame is you'll get recognised by someone wherever you are. At the moment, the Festival Theatre's in the middle of its summer performance season: The Chichester Festivities. It's basically a month or so of productions, parades, festivals, comedy nights, musicals and whatever else you'd care to mention. At the moment, the plays are Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's dream and Out of This World, which I think is showing in the sister building right next to the Festival Theatre, called the Minerva. I could be wrong. I don't have a lot to do with the theatre besides my friend Dan, who works in the Education Office. There's lots of greenery in Chichester. Not just vegetables, but trees and parks too. There are some lovely places to sit in the sun and relax, even if they aren't very big. It's not Central Park by any means, but it's nice enough. The neighbourhood's fairly nice too, actually. Not a lot of crime happens in and around Chi, but you do get the odd one or two gangs about, thefts and whatever else, just like any other place. Such is life. In all it's a nice place to be, if not the most exciting. But you don't always want excitement.. ...could do with a better toy shop, though >.> Solo On: When I Will Write Another Chapter of Enter the Net (Short one, this) I really don't know. I've been playing with ideas in my head but I've not settled on one yet. Once I do, it won't be too long after that. But I am busy with college work right now, heh. It might be as late as the summer holidays, but I'll try and write at least a short sketch or something in the meantime. An 'Enter the Net Extra', as it were ^_~ Ta!

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