Liberty Project (3)

The Amsterdam series just gets longer and longer, ha ha ha. I went on the walking tour this Saturday, just to get myself a bit of entertainment (I ponder if I get on these kind of trips frequent enough, I might be able to do a tour myself in no time).

I have been wondering why Dutch are very easy going with everything. It was guessed perhas they have been struggling with the flooding since 13th century, flood took away lives, destroyed homes, regardless your religion, belive, ethinic origin. Every one had to fight together. It is pointless to be angry if your home/land/love ones can go anytime. It is actually very interesting point. Suppose you and your political rival have a common enemy, you tend to bond with whatever allies to fend off the evil spirit (this can very well be used in my project, ha ha ha).

The other interesting thing to note is that Dutch was invaded by Neopolian force, and a french king was installed. He decided everyone should have a last name (this is very very interesting, no last name, no past and no baggage, life was created without bearing responbisibility to glorify the family). Thus, Dutch came up with last names from where they live, what they do, just like Japanese in Meiji restoration. It is quite amusing to learn some of the Dutch last name are "Dead Cow" or "Smelly alley" if translated into English.

Another interesting piece of information is that the oldest prostitute in redlight district ages 75, she is still working.

Impulsive Purchase

I was sitting at home at Friday evening, getting away from the office politics and trying get the evil thoughts out of my head (how to make dead of my team members by making them look very bad), my favorite law and order is showing. Having a glass of wine, cooked my fried pork with broccoli, life is really not too bad.

While I was sitting down comfortably after the simple meal, um, time to clean up with dental floss. As I was trying very hard to break into teeth, the floss snapped and, to my great horror, I had no long enough floss left. Shit, shit, shit. I had to dress up, put on my running shoes, and run to Albert Heijn before it closes. I ran down the vertical stairs (in Nederland, the property is taxed by the width of the building facing the street, thus, most of the canal properties have the nearly vertical stair well to save space/money). I quickly unlocked my bike, cycled as fast as I can rushing to the store, hoping to be able to come back in time to catch the final verdict of the episode of Law and Order. The Albert Heijn nearby didn't have floss, I quickly calculated my option, ran out of the store, biked to the other bigger AH near by Dam square.

I succeeded in getting myself into the store seconds before it shut down for the day, ran quickly pass the veggie section, cannot help but notice the fresh white asparagus (they are in season). Dutch illiterate as I am, I thought it is on sale for only 99c euro. Without thinking twice, I picked it up and ran to the personal hygiene section. I quickly picked up the floss looking little white box, cannot be bother to read the text (I won't understand it anyways), as I waited in the check out register, picking up the famouse Dutch waffle cake. Never mention that I managed to pick up a carten of milk (I normally don't drink it, but I have some cereal to finish...) and a pair of plastic gloves (they are my best friend in life).

I was really surprised the total came to almost 10 euro, it turned out that the innocent looking white asparagus costs me almost 5 euro. Feeling really bad, I rode home only to the beginning of another show I don't like very much. I will never be able to find out who won the case in Law and Order. Fine, at least I can floss my teeth and have a good night sleep. How wrong I am, the white dental floss looking box actually contains wooden toothpicks.

I was biking around the city and running between 2 supermarkets like a maniac and had achieved nothing I had planned for and spent 10 euros...

Cycling

I really enjoy biking in Amsterdam. The city is flat, no hills thus no need to have geared bicycle. Everyone is biking with the grandpa style heavy touring bike, you rarely see the fully dressed cyclists with helmets on street. Girls bike with their heels, so do I. Only a couple of embarassing situations happened so far, my heels was trapped in the padel and, panicking, lifting my foot resulting in lossing my shoe in the street. I had to stop a few meters after, pushing my bike backward to pick it up.

I listen to my pimsleur's Japanese lessons while taking my 45 minute biking tour to and fro work, it is great because I can recite whatever the instructor's talking, no one spare a look, they all think I am on the phone, I guess.

The very good thing in Amsterdam is that people are not paranoid about things. You see canals all over the city without railing. It is really unthinkable in other places, adults refuse to admit that kids are intellegent enough not to jump into the water just for fun. You can see a lot of parents riding bycicle carrying small kids in the rolley in front, sometimes one in the baby seat in front and the other one in the back. This is so great. I cannot think of a better way to transport small children for all parents.

The problem with biking in Amsterdam is that you are risking of lossing your bike to thefts. I duly locked my bike with 2 locks, the bike rental shop owner assured me that the lock provided is the best in town. In fact, it can be more expensive than the bike itself.

Liberty Project (2)

Ah ha, we are finally in the interesting bits of the business. The girls normally negotiate prices with the patrons. They start counting the time the moment you put the bills on their hands, 15 minutes (it is for your benefit to find the girl with less fabric covering her body). Verbal contract is everything, you two would have to agree on the position (changing position costs you more), what she will be wearing, and, of course, doing what.

The sad thing is that Amsterdam city is trying to close down the window prostitution in 2 years' time. It is considered a lowest of prostitution, normally brings in more crime. Um, I guess it is just going to turn underground and perhaps it is going to put the girls into more unfavourable situation.

As I am writing, I think my neighbor is having a super grass party...

Liberty Project (1)

Amsterdam is a very free and tolerative city. Since 16th century, this has been the place for sailors from all over the world to get drunk and have some luck with sex. Although it is illegal to drink or possess any alcoholic drink on the street, if you are not being an ass, police men walk pass you as if not seeing your illegal act. Coffeeshops are not supposed to sell more than certain grams of weeds, however, not one really enforce the law. I was only surprised to find out that Cocaine was legal until 10 years ago because the law didn't make a clear distinction with soft and hard drugs (approx 100,000 Cocaine addicted Germans were living in AMS before 90s, that's when Amsterdam cleaned it up).

I guess it is hard to surprise Amsterdamers with anything, they have seen it all for hundreds of years. Prostitution started in 16th century, girls lingered around the harbour, luring the drunk sailors. They were sailors' wives, or girls from the countryside. The interesting thing to note is that the brothels and the windows are scattering around the churches, one guess is that men could pay off their sin first then have some fun later.

The window prositution actually stars around 70s, the propertiers rent out the window space (200 euros for 6 hour shift during the rush hours), the telephone number on top of the building is not the girls' but the landlord's. The girls are protected by CCTV and invisible bouncers (or pimps, love boys, whatsoever).

The Difference Between Tokyo and Paris (4)

I forgot to mention the final episode of my ordeal of Paris trip. I came back to my apartment in Amsterdam, unpacking the bag that's missing from my life for 2 days, only to find that my contact lense solution and toner were almost gone because the caps were not tightened properly. I checked in my bags because of them....

Note on June 19th. I just found out that one of my newly purchase foundation in my cosmetic bag was also unscrewed this morning when I tried to use the darker tanned tone. The grease flooded all over the bottom the bag. Shit, shit, shit, I started to wonder if someone in Berlin Tegel or Paris Orly airport, secretly opened up my bag, careflly unscrewed all bottles I possess in my luggage, so-single-mindly to drain out all the liquid.

The Difference Between Tokyo and Paris (3)

Traveling really stresses me out. I am finally getting ready to pack up and cannot wait to go back to my sweet, sweet home in Amsterdam (I hate Paris). I gave myself 1 and half hour to go back to my hotel near Champ Elysee, to pick up the train ticket the Paris Office Manager left me (why she wants to do that is strange, I should get a electronic one...). Then I can go to Gare Du Nord (I double confirmed that is the right train station for train leaving for Amsterdam).

However, I miscalculated the time, although Paris Metro system is very compact, practical, on time and cute, I forgot to include the walking time from the hotel to train station (10 minutes one way). When I was leaving the hotel, it is almost 5:40 and my international train is leaving Paris at 6:25. I was running, sweating, pondering when my traveling nightmere is going to end and what I am going to do if I DO miss the train again.

I got on the train eventually, 3 minutes before the train departed. I sat on my seat and thanking everyone that I am on the train, if any of my connections in Paris Metro system broke off, I won't be able to make this train.

4 hours later, I am home, oh how I miss Amsterdam....

The Difference Between Tokyo and Paris (2)

I have had missing lugguage experience with Air France (oh no, not related to French again). On my way to Tokyo, I can see my name on a board on the conveyor belt, "Miss Liao, your bag is coming in the next flight from Paris to Tokyo, please identify yourself to the ground crew". OK, I dully filled out my address, and custom declaration form, I went home happy and received the luggage delivered to my door at 9pm the same day.

Obviously you cannot apply the same logic to French. I spent the most miserable 2 days in Paris without my contact lense solution, eye glasses, clean underwears, mouth guard, and make up (really sorry for my Paris client, I showed up without make up, that must be really really scary). What's worse is the stress kept me awake, and eczma attack slows crawling back to my face. I constantly pondered what I should do if I can never see my bag again? If they cannot delivery on time to the hotel, what is going to happen if I give them my address in Amsterdam, can I trust their ability to deliver my bag to another country?

The bag turned up 7am in the morning on the day I am supposed to take the train back to Amsterdam. Believe me, that's the happiest moment in my life for a while. At least I can go to work with clean underwears and some make up in my last day.

The Difference Between Tokyo and Paris (1)

I flew from Berlin directly to Paris because my boss sold me to a Paris client for 3 days. Not really keen to go but I figure it is a good chance for me to meet up more people in this fields and make connection, I duly obliged and packed up my bag, heading toward the airport.

Everything is fine, the airplane departed on time, I worked out the RER route to go to the center of Paris, I event figured how to get to the client from the train station. I then waited for my bag in the conveyor belt, I started to have a very bad feelings when everyone had left with their bags. Shit, that's not true, I was forced to check in my bag because of the damned contact lense solution, otherwise I could have take it as handcarry.

I had had a very bad start of my trip, I missed my train from Amsterdam to Berlin on Friday night because I didn't realise the train is actually leaving form Amsterfoot (hey, the train ticket says from Amsterdam to Berlin, I thought it is departing from the Amsterdam Centraal station like every medium size city). Panicking, oh well, if a problem can be solved by money, it is not a problem at all. I closed my eyes and paid for the full fare train ticket to Berlin, departing 2 hours later. I started to become very agitated and nervous with the rest of my traveling schedule...

Anyhow, the chatty, attractive French man behind the lost baggage claim counter helped me fill out the missing form, assuring me that I will have my bag back (is that real so? I am leaving in the evening in 3 days). He said positively, you will be ok, and can I take you out for coffee while you are in Paris? I said, yeah, after you found my bag, everything is ok.

Really worried about getting to the client side on time, I jumped onto the train and heading toward central paris.

Holocaust in Berlin

Hung out with Berlin tour guide, Stevie trying the German/Italian coffee (bitter expresso on top of vanilla ice cream, plus some Chocolate whipped cream). Suprisingly, it is not too sweet.
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Berlin is vast, everything is spreaded, scattered around. There are a lot of greens, and of course, history everywhere. I think people are drawn to Berlin because of its special geographical location (the wall around the city, located inside the heart of east Germany) and the disturbing Third Riech history during the war, at least I am.

It is very heavy going through the Holocaust memorial and musuem underneath it. Sometimes life can be just lighter than air, 6 millions of Jewish people vanished, that's 6 zeros after the single digit 6. I still cannot figure out how a person can treat another person as if he/she is not a human being. We went through a open exhibition, "Topology of Terror" located in the original Nazi government buildings. It is amazing to see how Hitler went to the thorne of power by elbowing out the opposition parties, and it is equally amazing to see how intellegent, well-educated citizens turning into the followers of this crazy politics (want to go back and re-read the "Lucifer Effect").

Berlin was not in its best weather while we were around, I was constantly freezed, regretting I should have brought my winter gears with me from Tokyo. Summer in Europe is really like late autumn in Asia.

The reader

Watched the film on the plane to Amsterdam from Tokyo, I cannot exactly tell you what I feel about the movie but I can only tell you the pieces and bits of the movies linger in my head constantly.

Kate Winsler's acting is remarkable. Hanna, the illiterate German woman served the prison term out of the shame of admitting her illiteracy in the court of law. What would I do if I were in her shoes? Before the prison, her love affair with the 15 year old boy had brought her something in life?

Speaking of "in her shoes", just finished a lengthy movie "In Her Shoes". Man, I can understand why people want to look at pleasant things in movies. The elder sister, Rose, is such a straigh-faced, clumsy creature, compare to her younger sister, Maggie, the dylexia suffering, vain, but good looking girl (although I don't think there is much more else, I still enjoy watching her). We are all visual animials, aren't we?

Windmills

Got a friend visiting Amsterdam and had the chance to be dragged out of the city to enjoy the country side of Netherland, we are waiting for the bus to go to the windmills

The windmills were built 2 centuries ago in order to drain the water to the canal, the canal bed is higher than the farmland... Gee, the people living here must have had a tough life, constantly worried about the flooding.
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The 4th week in Amsterdam, I rented a bike and cycle to work every day. The weather has been generous, it is very enjoyable despite the 45 minute ride to and fro work. Still have no intention to bring my clothes for professional cleaning, I hand wash all my laundries. Surpringly, it is not troublesome. I get to develop a special, and strange attachment to my laundry routine. I carefully wash them piece by piece, observing the delicate decay of the linens, watching them dry under the sun (my studio apartment has abundant sunlight in the afternoon).

Great Globalization

Shopping for consumer goods in Amsterdam is not a difficult task though knowing no Dutch. Walking past the house cleaning aisle, I can pretty much figure out what those various bottles contain. Dish detergent and toilet cleaner bottles are shaped in the exact way you can see in North America or UK. To double confirm, the graphical explanation (for laundry detergent, you can tell by sign showing the number of loads this bottle can support) helps greatly. The marketing and branding have to conform, we are brain washed by this culture. It is hard to imagine if Colgate starts to sell Chocolate, for example.

It started raining in Amsterdam since Friday night, the weater is freezing cold. I am numbering the days going home.

Super Surfing Weekend (end)

I really appreciate Sandy being in Taipei, she has opened a window in the city in which I grew up. Besides, it is more fun to go with my cute cousin (she has more connection in Taipei than me after moving to Taipei in Feburary) Uncle Thomas accompanied us for the super surfing Sunday. To compensate his sacrifice, we went to the upscale hot spring resort for our after-surfing bath. The bath is outdoor, we bathed in the 40 celcius spring water, looking over the green mountains and blue sky.

We went back home to pick up my mom for dinner, 4 of us went to a restaurant only sells goose. The goose meat was boiled, but tender and with a lot of flavor. We ordered so much food that almost covered the whole table, unsurpringly, we finished them all and ordered some more for take away...

Super Surfing Weekend (3)

We went surfing challenge again the next day, my arms were really sore after a night's rest. I almost want to give up the idea of carrying the heavy surf board and nonstop paddling, flighting with the waves. The moment we hit the beach, everything just came so naturally. The surf boards were picked up, and before we realised our sore bodies, we were cutting through the waves paddling agagin.

The waves are better today, they come in unison (it is really hard if the winds blow in different directions, you will have to handle waves coming from everywhere). I had a couple of successful 1-second standing, good no hitting the nose so far.

In one of the successful standing, my board was carried all the way to the shore. I naturally dived off the board (wrong, wrong, wrong, I should stay on the board, I only understood this later), wanting to carry my board to the shore and have a rest. However, the wave was too strong, I was knocked over by the wave. Another wave came, my board was (luckily) at my waist and butt on the sand, I was pushed all the way to the shore. It is really not fun when your butt is sunburned the previous day and very sensitive. When the wave subsided, it carried my board (and my butt) down again... While waiting for another butt sanding to come, Sandy came to my rescue. She helped me fix the surf board and help me stand up. Oh my god, I was leaving the water in such a messy condition, I can see the guy with surf board walking pass trying hard not to burst into laughing.

Super Surfing Weekend (2)

My bikkini panties are loose, I am very worried if they would be washed away by the strong wave. Apart from that, everything is great. The sea water is not exactly clean and clear, but just sitting on the board waiting for the wait, enjoying the warm sunshine on my body and seeing the endless sea water is quite relaxing. The undesired side effect is that my butts and back of my legs were pink at the end of the day, I guess it's because those areas were not exposured to the sun that offen.

On one of the attempt to stand up on the board, I was like the princess of the sea for 1 second and fell off the board. Panicking, trying to get my head above the water, the board was pushed by the wave toward my raising head. My nose took the hit and I finally understood the feeling of being knocked over. Not really serious, I climbed up to the board, started to paddle out and realised I had had the first bleeding nose experience. Cool as it can be.

Sandy and I went to have food and hot spring bath in the nearby town, the hot spring bath is public and free of charge, relaxing our sore limps and sunburned skin in the warm water. Ah.... Life is pretty good sometimes.

Super Surfing Weekend (1)

When hiking with Sandy and Jennifer earlier this year, Sandy revealed the secret of surfing to us. To be honest, when I was in Taiwan, I was really a kid, moving only between school and home, never explored anything in this island. Surfing sounded too much fun to let pass, I determined to learn this and experience the beauty of sea once again.

I picked up Sandy and set off to the coast in the early morning, reached the surf board shop just before 11am (I was lost again, I'm never be able to get to the hiking trails or beach on time). We had a very experience instructor to come to the sea with us (although Sandy is going to be my coach, the surf board shop owner sent one of his patrons to go with us anyways). After a brief explanation, we dived down to the sea.

Paddling out is challenging. It is not easy to fight off the waves while laying on top of the huge surf boad, belly down. Once reaching out, we sat on the board to rest and wait for the broken wave.

I have never gotten so excited about seeing the white cap coming toward us (waves are no good, white caps are where real pushing power exists). Timing is everything, we had to wait, judge whether the coming wave is good enough for us to take off, including the time we need to turn around, and paddle. Before the board sits exactly on top of the white cap, we need to paddle really really hard to generate the momentum, ideal the same speed as the wave. If everything goes, the board would ride the wave effortlessly. That's the time we need to jump onto the board and start to rock.

Returning Home

Spending 3 days in Tokyo before heading back to Taipei, it is so nice to sleep in my own bed. My wash machine is the busiest moving item in my tiny apartment, 3 loads of non stop washing. Though I still not speak the language, I find myself seeing Tokyo as my home, a place with books I've finished and I am planning to read, a place with my clothes, a place with my rollerskates, hiking shoes and running trainers. I like to lie on the floor in sunny afternoon waiting for the sunlight slowly crawling over me, listening to my limited music collection, and pondering what to cook for dinner. Walking around in my neighborhood shopping, or going to the community center hoping to meet GString-san again.

The big project has come to an end, and there is little reason to keep non-Japanese speaking consultants in Tokyo office. I am dispatched to projects in Europe, Amsterdam, possibly Munich or Johnessburg afterwards. This makes me think what a home means. Friends, family, books, foods, or some addictive hobbies that entertain you when you are bored?

The 7th Hotel

This last hotel I checked in is totally different from those before. It is chick, posh and unpretentious. Very Shoreditch like, the remake of deprived, running down neighbourhood is very clever. It is not trying to demolish all old, shaby Victorian features of the streets and buildings, it rather uses clever art work display and to-the-point decor and lighting to give it a modernized feel.

The hotel staff behaves like those in a youth hostel. The room is suprisingly nice and clean. No mini-bar, if you want to buy them, come down to the front desk. Free organic breakfast from Pre-a-manger. The brochure in the bathroom encourages visitors to hang their towels for re-use like every other hotels, but makes it clear that the hotel wants to save money, too (I always wonder how often the cleaners leave the used towels as is, I think it is much easier for them to replace the used with freshly clean one and it is happening in all the hotel I stay).

Not pretentious in a way this hotel tells you its every effort it does to save money (and preserve the environment). No nonsense, no excessive attention, no fake welcome, this is pretty much my style of hotel.

3 Weeks 6 Hotels

I cannot believe that I have checked in and out hotels almost 6 times during this 3 weeks. I hate hotel living... The stress is showing on my face with a severe eczma attack, which hasn't been a problem ever since I moved back to Asia. There must be something about the water (or Fenshui) in London. Or perhaps I am not eating proper meals.

The redden skin and rash went all over my face, itchy like hell. I ran out of the steroid cream which might effectively control the inflammation. Anyhow, I have no other choice but live with it.

The only good thing is that I am now used to fundation, powder and concealer. Those really effectively cover up the uneven, patched skin. That also has a funny side effect, I don't scratch my face at all, afraid of destroying my make up. But toward the end of the day, when my body is tired and exhausted, the problem is more pronounced. I racked up my limited understandings of Chinese medicine. The heat in stomach would result in the skin condition on face (fire supress metal, which is the element controling breathing and skin), perhaps there is too much heat. The heat is also damp, so that means I have excessive water element in my body. If water is the element to supress the fire, but why under the condition I have dampness yet the fire is not supressed? More study required...