tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73363560486688247112024-03-05T15:58:23.138+01:00Big City BloggerJeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.comBlogger231125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-22333652782570094022016-09-07T04:27:00.002+02:002016-09-07T04:27:46.120+02:00Friendly Waters<b>15 days</b>. That's how long it took to meet a brand-new, previously unknown local person here in Montreal who invited us to her home.<br /><br /><b>About 4 and half years</b>. The amount of time for the same thing to occur in Amsterdam (thanks Michiel!).<br />
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Expat blogs in the Netherlands will routinely tell you a similar story: although there's a great number of things to like about living there, for some reason there is a distinct border between public/work life and home life for the Dutch, a border for which internationals don't often seem to have the correct visa.<br />
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Here in Canada, it's never long before a co-worker or a playground parent will - recognizing your newness to the area - invite you to their place for a barbecue or for drinks with the group from work.<br />
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There's probably some historical reason behind this, something along the lines of "Canadians are ALL from someplace else originally, so there's an <b>empathy for new arrivals</b>", whereas as the Dutch are simply born locals, so they lack this gene. <br />
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Maybe we simply have enough space in Canada to squeeze in more people into our personal space, versus the <b>high population density of a place like Amsterdam</b>, where people might crave some elbow room.<br />
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Or maybe there's something frostier afoot, a nationwide know-it-all mentality that leaves them genuinely uncurious about others.<br />
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In any case, it's nice to be in this place.<br />
<br />Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-56244226320635126372016-08-22T22:47:00.005+02:002016-09-02T04:01:57.880+02:00Amsterdam vs Montreal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9x305bGOrWagi7oDWaC2M4mFO3BEF05cXfrAJqBRPIDv1lv7fyAJbVMV1omj3gpbB1Gx-byPkCODo0M661g9-R7ui9-w3yTlYMRvD9Q9IUaiQjUoTES2rZVPLDhYWqmBgC7NXpzqrVG6f/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-08-22+at+3.44.54+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9x305bGOrWagi7oDWaC2M4mFO3BEF05cXfrAJqBRPIDv1lv7fyAJbVMV1omj3gpbB1Gx-byPkCODo0M661g9-R7ui9-w3yTlYMRvD9Q9IUaiQjUoTES2rZVPLDhYWqmBgC7NXpzqrVG6f/s200/Screen+Shot+2016-08-22+at+3.44.54+PM.png" width="200" /></a>Invariably, we lead lives of almost <b>constant comparison</b>. Our most recent drive to work was much better/worse than yesterday's. The last episode of Game of Thrones was way gorier/hotter than last week's. <b>Taylor's boyfriend</b> this week is, like, totally hotter/more sensitive than last week's. </div>
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So in the spirit of the inevitable, the focus of a number of upcoming posts here will focus on what it's like living in <b>Montreal</b> (and Canada in general) <b>versus Amsterdam</b> (and Europe in general).<br />
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Today, we're starting off on a bit of a downer note for those on the Canada side of the ledger. It has to do with <b>rampant, almost out of control patriotism and jingoism</b>.<br />
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Admittedly, I've arrived just before the Olympics, where the volume on national pride in most countries is turned all the way up.<br />
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But still, if <b>national backslapping</b> and <b>synchronized self-congratulation</b> were Olympic sports, Canada would take gold, silver and bronze. <br />
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TV ads running non-stop during the past two weeks say things like "The World Needs More Canada" (Air Canada), with Molson Canadian beer and Royal Bank expressing similar hubris. Barf.<br />
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A recent <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/07/01/world/americas/canada-syrian-refugees.html?_r=0" target="_blank"><b>New York Times piece on Canada's welcoming of Syrian refugees</b></a> mentions the amount of sharing on social media that volunteers are doing, as they express the sheer awesomeness of their own volunteering.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flags Gone Wild</td></tr>
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Driving around town these first few weeks, I've seen more <b>flags on cars</b> (note - this is also pre-Oympics) than I saw in six years in Holland. I don't know even know if they exist in Europe, these <b>mobile symbols of chest-thumpery</b>.</div>
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And well before my return to the motherland, I realized on my travels that Canadians are the only ones sewing their flags on their backpacks as they travel the world. No overt harm in this of course - but it looks like a cry for attention cloaked in national pride that seems unseemly. I doubt the flagless <b>Italian or Kiwi</b> backpackers are any less proud of their countries - they just don't need to shout it from the rooftops.<br />
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It's one thing to be with a great friend. It might get a tad annoying if that friend keeps saying "wow, aren't I great?"<br />
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<br />Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-65747101153191066012016-07-14T15:59:00.001+02:002016-07-14T16:15:24.491+02:00Born Again Blogger<b>Hello from the other siiiiide...</b><br />
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After 3+ years of blogging only in my mind - a period of time dominated by raising a girl and doing very little travelling - I am back online.<br />
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Except, this time, it's coming to you from <b><a href="https://www.lonelyplanet.com/canada/montreal" target="_blank">Montreal</a></b> and not <b><a href="https://www.lonelyplanet.com/the-netherlands/amsterdam" target="_blank">Amsterdam</a></b>.<br />
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After almost seven years in Holland's remarkable, rainy, and occasionally really annoying capital, I've moved back to my birthplace.<br />
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It's only been a week so far, and seeing things for the first time in many ways (I haven't lived here for 20 years) is exceptionally refreshing. As a wise stranger named Shunryu Suzuki says:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few” </i></span></span><br />
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This is a quick hello post - posts to come in the next few days and months will include pictures, impressions, reviews, and occasional rants. Happy to read your comments and suggestions too...<br />
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A bientot!Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-21129537077189610012013-03-20T14:27:00.000+01:002016-07-13T17:08:18.429+02:00If A Blog Falls<b>If a blog falls... does anybody hear it?</b><br />
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This is the temporary end, for now at least, of Big City Blog. It's actually quite sad to type this, as strange as it sounds.<br />
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First off, <b>my apologies</b> for not posting for several months now. A perfect storm of work, holidays, a very rough and sad time with a sick dog, and the end of the Lonely Planet blogging program all added up to zero bloggage from me.<br />
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<b>Lonely Planet </b>decided to stop its program on Dec. 31, 2012, so there are a few dozen untethered travel bloggers out there now, along with myself. But LP were great supporters and provided an excellent platform to allow me to get some exposure globally, so no regrets there at all.<br />
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I don't know how many people have visited here over the years, or are even continuing to; Big City Blog has reached over <b>76,000 pageviews</b> since 2009. And it's been quite cool to see the traffic feed over the years, with people checking in from Jakarta to Calgary to France to Australia to New York... (Must stop typing in destinations now. Travel bug activated...).<br />
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<b>A very big and heartfelt THANK YOU to everyone who followed this blog and helped keep me going.</b> If you follow it on Facebook, you will still see updates to it periodically when I can travel more again, or when something really grabs me here in Amsterdam.<br />
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Thanks.Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-28581399981857489432012-10-17T07:06:00.000+02:002012-10-17T07:06:08.404+02:00Oot and AboutOut of town this week folks, on business of the no-time-to-blog kind. Back next week...Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-27588755074370561972012-10-01T21:08:00.001+02:002012-10-01T21:37:06.279+02:00Amsterdam Centraal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Amsterdam Central Station</b> is the <b>Kim Kardashian</b> of train stations - high maintenance, more than a little dirty, frequently invaded by foreign objects, yet not without its charm at times.<br />
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Centraal (the extra 'a' is the Dutch spelling) like so much of the overall Dutch experience, inspires a mix of emotions.<br />
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It is <b>not the cleanest</b> of stations, no. Particularly during the perennial garbage strikes that grip the station, when you have to navigate the piles of trash and Euro-trash while you dash to your soon-departing train.<br />
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Inside, it's <b>not the nicest-looking</b> of stations either. Any number of major centres in Europe have way more attractive central stations - including Paris' Gare de Lyon and Brussels' Antwerp, to name but two - where you step out and feel as though you are in a museum.<br />
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As far as amenities, it's lacking. A couple of fast food kiosks, a Hema (a future post will explain the goodness that is Hema), a pay toilet, and that's kind of it. Save for a few benches and a four-seat Starbucks, you can barely find a spot to sit down in the event that you have to wait to meet someone (an all too frequent experience, thanks to the train company NS, short for Nederlandse Spoorwegen, or <b>No Service</b>). You can't even meet someone for a beer here to ease the pain of a teary farewell or celebrate a homecoming.<br />
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And yet.<br />
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It's seeing the <b>amazing mix and hum of foreign travellers</b> and locals buzzing through the station from all directions. It's the thousands of bikes stacked seemingly on top of each other just steps from the door, yours included, offering quick access to the city beyond.<br />
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It's the water ringing the north and south entrances, a sparkling sight to see on a sunny day when the city is crackling with possibility. And it's the arrival from Amsterdam itself, when the station's exterior of red bricks, gold trim, exterior art work and a beautiful clock tower beckon from far away.<br />
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As for which one will age more gracefully, Amsterdam Centraal vs Kardashian, my money's on the one with the less generous seating.<br />
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<br />Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-18028893525842908362012-09-19T22:18:00.001+02:002012-09-19T22:20:53.335+02:00Cologne to KonigswinterA short train ride took us from Cologne to the Rhine-facing village of <b>Konigswinter</b> for a few days.<br />
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Travelling as much as I have over the years has built up this nifty little reservoir of I'm-not-sure-what... It's a way of just winging it, of doing only cursory research and planning before a trip and letting it happen randomly. Travel balls, maybe? Too crass perhaps - maybe travel confidence is better.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFHD0Wa2-imkQXAzZAP9dAP3eEcNU8rI_S1wtaUEhTWInun8E-2WJN-RClDOUZQfZ80KL4A7KS2gjMAH8EDViX4_P87MF2MNpR27jLwa06EE16RpLhtqtOyg1xDaDOck1Cp86Ou5AkdPR/s1600/DSC00525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>No strict agendas, no specific day trips planned, only a train or plane timetable and a hotel booking here and there. It's a matter of waking up and doing what you feel like, including nothing much at all if the body or spirit are not willing.<br />
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And in places like Konigswinter, it always works out. The town is right on the <b>Rhine</b>, with a bike path lining either side for many miles and a stop for the river tours right out front. You can take a boat or a tram to get here as well.<br />
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A boat tour is a must here. Criss-crossing the river, you can sit for hours looking at German countryside roll by, stepping off at various old-school postcard towns for lunch and a beer, and walking into Christmas stores in mid-summer if need be. Cologne and the surrounding region are renowned for its year-round Christmas markets, with every ornament and trinket ever created. Then again, you could just stay on the boat, drink beer and eat apple strudel.<br />
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You can also head up to Drachenfels ("Dragon's Rock"), a small mountain with a 12th century castle perched on top. You'll get amazing views of the surrounding area here.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Ah, the meadows, the rolling river, the lush countryside, and the zigaretten.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Stumbled across a car show </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">These boats span the Rhine - at first, you feel like such a tourist, but then there's...</span> </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">...the view...</span> </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">...ze strudel... </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">...the small town(s)...</span> </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">...and this guy, who invariably looks more like a tourist than you ever will. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Uhhh...Small-town horror house of some kind. We didn't stay long enough to ask questions.</span></div>
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<br />Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-63235282812816847502012-09-15T16:08:00.001+02:002012-09-19T22:18:36.164+02:00Smells Like CologneOne of the beautiful things about living in Amsterdam - and in fact, 20 minutes door-to-door from the airport or Central Station - is the ability to leave Amsterdam. Not too often, mind you - but the weekend power trip is something to be cherished when it happens.<br />
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Earlier this summer, we took just such a trip to <b>Cologne, Germany</b>. It's a bit off the radar when one thinks of Berlin, Munich, or Frankfurt, but well worth the trip.<br />
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<b>Cologne is a charming place</b>. The riverfront location, the big town squares, the old-fashioned housing mixed with modern architecture, the striking Dom cathedral - it all made for a very welcoming stay, just 2+ hours by train from Amsterdam.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Like Kindergarten, but better</span></div>
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And then the beer. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><em style="color: black; font-weight: bold;">Kölsch<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small; font-style: normal;"> </span></em></span>actually, is the local type of brew. To me it tasted like a standard and perfectly fine beer, but others with more dignified beer tastebuds would do a better job explaining it. Beer aficianados, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/K%C3%B6lsch_(beer)" target="_blank">click here</a> for the full Wikipedia explanation.<br />
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And it is EVERYWHERE. Each table we passed at the sprawling cafes had monster glasses of Kolsch being quaffed by men and women. Walking the streets, a group of men, girls or families from teens to omas and opas can be seen strolling with their bottle of beer in hand. Overlooking the <b>Rhine</b>, lazing in the grass along a long promenade, hundreds of people drink from bottles of beer like marathon runners shoot back water (ok, that last one was a bit of an embellishment). But really, beer is always near.<br />
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Bottle openers hang from the overhead awning outside most convenient stores - a sure sign of a beer-friendly culture.</div>
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They all drink it with any type of food, though I opted for pairing with some schnitzel and fries at one occasion, and this item below on another:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Some kind of unholy potato concotion - the name escapes me; the heartburn does not.</span></div>
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Day 2 we moved down to <b>Konigswinter</b>, a Rhine-front hamlet/town (I'll never know the difference, but hamlet sounds somehow more majestic. More on that on the next post...for now, some images from Cologne itself.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">The bathroom wall at the excellent <a href="http://www.artotels.com/cologne-hotel-de-50676/gercoart/home" target="_blank">art 'otel</a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">The view from the hotel room - in the foreground is a replica of Noah's Ark, to the right is the Chocolate Museum. Very difficult to combine these into one joke. Still working on it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Dom Cathedral</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">In Cologne's souvenir shops, memories of the previous wars are ubiquitous. These are placemats, sure to cheer up any meal.</span></div>
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Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-48362151925812868762012-09-04T00:54:00.000+02:002012-09-04T00:54:00.671+02:00VacayBig City Blogger is on holidays this week, making a pilgrimage to Malaga and area once again. Back in action after September 10th. See you soon!Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-83762983853309140872012-08-18T14:49:00.003+02:002012-08-20T11:12:17.835+02:00Part II - Get to Know an Amsterdammer - Sports Edition<b>Nicol David</b> is back for Part II of our interview. Technically speaking, of course, she's some 16,600 kilometers away in Canberra, Australia at the moment, heading into the final of the Australian Open on Sunday August 19th.<br />
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*UPDATE - Aug 20th - Nicol won the tournament. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTiyWx3XafXUQArIs-qttfPEVdujX5OQFnkk1v3i8Cm_FWAJ8DzeED5-3yIa4XU45muMrQKJGKOZBLwfGrETPk9AX0mCx02vh1s-ZUHAmLV90WeXApoLit0u9njKniX0jAyfaqJB3jDE6/s1600/DSC_8794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTiyWx3XafXUQArIs-qttfPEVdujX5OQFnkk1v3i8Cm_FWAJ8DzeED5-3yIa4XU45muMrQKJGKOZBLwfGrETPk9AX0mCx02vh1s-ZUHAmLV90WeXApoLit0u9njKniX0jAyfaqJB3jDE6/s400/DSC_8794.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.squashsite.co.uk/">www.squashsite.co.uk</a></td></tr>
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Nicol spent the previous weeks on a promotional campaign during the London Olympics to make squash an Olympic sport. When she first told me she was active in this campaign I was surprised, thinking that squash was naturally already part of Olympics.<br />
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After all, it's played in 175 countries, and is most definitely a great sport requiring world-class physical skill and athleticism when played at the highest levels. And it's a sport that, in my humble opinion, is far more deserving to be in the Olympics than a handful of sports, like whitewater rafting, or any equestrian event, or the always-ridiculous race-walking. But that's just me. Before we go any further...<br />
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<a href="http://squash2020.com/" target="_blank">Support the bid to make squash an Olympic sport</a><br />
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Now back to the interview.<br />
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<b>How much do you travel in a given year?</b><br />
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Well, aside from travelling to tournaments, I try to get back to Malaysia four or five times per year. That alone is about eleven and half hours one way. Tournament-wise, I play in ten or so tournaments a year, all over the world. So travel is a huge part of my life. I can sleep anywhere, anytime though [Nicol has slept virtually the entire trip on the Malaysia-Amsterdam leg before].<br />
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<b>Any travel tips? This is a Lonely Planet blog, after all.</b><br />
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I can travel really light - a dress, a bikini, three pairs of shorts, and one set of formal trousers and a top and I can be away for weeks. I also think with my passport, some money and my phone I can survive anywhere.<br />
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<b>I see you are the Malaysian representative as the National Goodwill Ambassador for the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) - can you tell me more about this?</b><br />
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It involves some mission work and awareness for the UN's <a href="http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/" target="_blank">Millenium Developement Goals</a>. I am currently devoting a lot of time to the squash so I hope to spend more time once I've stopped playing competitively.<br />
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<b>Aside from more UNDP work, what are your plans after your squash career?</b><br />
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Well, for one, I really hope to stay in top shape for the next eight years so I can participate in the Olympics, if squash makes it in as an event. <br />
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I really want to give back to Malaysia. All my training is funded by the Malaysian National Sports Council, which has been such a help. I might like to develop my own academy back home. Hundreds of kids are trying to get in for coaching, so if I can help out in some way that would be great.<br />
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And with that, I will sign off. Meeting Amsterdammers is always interesting for me, as it's such a multi-cultural and dynamic city. But this is first time that it's also been motivating.<br />
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Meeting the top player in the world in squash, who happens to fit in work with the UN and a campaign to the International Olympic Committee, stays close to her family - all while managing to be a really genuine and cool person - makes for prime motivation to get going on my own self-improvement goals.Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-46197611417201967022012-08-06T13:08:00.001+02:002012-08-06T13:08:07.719+02:00Get to Know An Amsterdammer - Sports EditionYou meet some very interesting people in this city.<br />
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A year or so ago, I wrote a short collection of posts called <b>"Get to Know an Amsterdammer"</b>. It featured people profiles from interesting locals (not necessarily long-term residents) from a variety of professions and backgrounds.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nicol David, six-time and reigning squash world champion</td></tr>
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In the hopes of reviving this series, I managed to meet a great person to start with: <b><a href="http://www.nicoldavid.com/" target="_blank">Nicol David</a>, the reigning six-time world champion female squash player</b>. Nicol, 28, is from Malaysia, and she's also possibly the nicest world champion of anything.<br />
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We sat down at the club where she trains, <a href="http://www.squashcity.com/en/" target="_blank">Squash City</a>, and had a great chat for close to 90 minutes.<br />
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Here we go, with part 1:
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<b>What brings you to Amsterdam?</b>
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In 2003, I came here to be close to my coach, Liz Irving, who was living in Amsterdam already. I met Liz on tour years earlier and decided she would be a great fit for me. Career-wise, it was the best move for me - Liz knows what is takes to be a top-tier player, she offered me a lot in terms of learning and still has a lot to offer today. She's one of the best mentors for a female squash player.<br />
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I loved the city when I first visited, in 2001. I felt comfy right away when I loved here, it's a big city but feels like a small town.<br />
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<b>Amsterdam is not known for its "healthy" lifestyle image - what do you do outside of training?</b>
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The "unhealthy" scene that tourists know is only a small part of it. There's so much to do - the architecture, the arts, the music - and people have the freedom to do whatever they want and there's a respect for what anyone wants to do. I can focus solely on squash. I also like that you can bike everywhere. The rain doesn't bother me that much - squash is weather-proof.<br />
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I'm normally so tired after training that I don't do much![<i>Ed.</i> - <i>Nicol spends approximately 20 hours/week on the court, and has recently added another step up to her training with Patrick, her personal trainer at Squash City</i>]. Westerpark (<a href="http://www.westergasfabriek.nl/en/" target="_blank">Westergas Fabriek</a>), and music gigs and festivals are some of my favourites.<br />
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<b>What are your favourite places to play, as a tourist and from a player's perspective?</b><br />
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Wow, so many places. As a tourist, <b>Australia</b> and <b>New Zealand</b> are amazing. I can see myself living in either place, with the nature and the peace. <b>Mexico</b>,<b> </b>for the food and the people - they have a similar style to Malaysia. And <b>Rio</b> has a great beach and sporting culture.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The setting for squash in the Cayman Islands<br />
(photo: <a href="http://www.squashsite.co.uk/" target="_blank">www.squashsite.co.uk</a>)</td></tr>
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As a player, some of the coolest locations are the <b>Cayman Islands</b> and <b>Hong Kong</b>. In the Caymans, you play in a glass box by the bay - a beautiful setting. And the harbourfront, in view of the Hong Kong skyline, is another great location to play. They host of the best tournaments each year.<br />
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<i>Part 2 comes later this week, and talks about Nicol's work with the UN, her insane travel schedule, and more.</i>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-2454688048491034342012-07-16T21:00:00.004+02:002012-07-16T21:24:27.227+02:00Sardinia III<b>Authenticity</b>. It's a word that comes to mind often in Europe, especially when it comes to food.<br />
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And <b>Italian food</b> does not get more authentic than being served by a kindly 70-something in her living/dining room, her husband ousted from his easy chair to make room for you and your dining companions just minutes before the first anitpasti is served.<br />
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This was all part of the package served up just next door from our <b>agriturismo</b>, at another B&B that welcomes visitors for dinner in less busy times of the year. And so it was that for 30 Euros person, we were treated to a <b>five-course meal</b> (wine and digestifs included) by <b>Giuseppa</b>, the lady of the house, and her elderly sister, who watched us eat with such a smile on her face it's as if she could taste the food herself.<br />
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Authentic, simple, and about the 100th reason why I will always travel - for experiences like this.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Giuseppa, the hostess/chef/surrogate mom</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> Fellow dinner guests, Martin and Anna-Maria from Germany</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The rest of the eating area</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">This was far better than the photo suggests</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">A choice of homemade digestifs... firewater!</span></div>
<br />Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-47573212709261512322012-07-11T23:47:00.001+02:002012-07-11T23:47:20.465+02:00Wow! It's been ages... I have the same tired excuses unfortunately. Work and life getting in the way.<br />
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Coming soon - more Sardinia, some Cologne, some Amsterdam, and a very interesting <i>Get to Know an Amsterdammer</i> post.Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-37889815015239613932012-06-13T08:57:00.000+02:002012-06-13T08:57:07.446+02:00Sardinia II<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Upon arriving at the car rental counter at Olbia airport in the northern part of Sardinia, I was presented with the option of a Nissan Micra or <b>Fiat Panda</b>. I once heard that Fiat stands for “Fix it again, Tony”, so I went with the Micra. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">In hindsight, however, the Panda would have been a more apt choice because after about 10 minutes sharing the road with Italian drivers, I began to feel like an endangered species myself. I think the posted speed limits are actually the minimum speed you should be driving.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">But we humans are an adaptable species. By the end of Day 1, I was speeding, cornering, downshifting, accelerating and tailgating like a pale, less hairy <b>Andretti</b>. By Day 2, car and driver had become one - anticipating each other's next moves, finishing each other's turns.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Day 3 brought us to <b>Cala Gonone</b>, about 2 hours south of Olbia, where you need to stop burning rubber and are no longer a landlubber. It is here that you can rent a boat - must rent a boat, actually, since you can only access the nearby beaches by water, as much of the area is an environmental reserve. This was another slice of paradise. Just when you think you’ve seen the nicest beach in Sardinia, there’s another one to discover the next day. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">You travel in a motorboat, looking something like a souped-up Zodiac, and can opt for self-piloting or for a guided tour. Emboldened by the driving experiences of the past few days, I opted for renting it on my own, with a very skeptical but trusting wife by my side.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The vehicle of choice for the day</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Wild pigs (the friendly kind) came to greet us at one beach</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">It turned out to be easy and highly enjoyable. <b>60 Euros</b> for a full day on the ocean, skirting the cliffs and caves, and dropping anchor whenever the urge strikes. The beaches were rockier than many in Sardinia, but it was still quite a way to spend the day.</span></div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-82628785345737986362012-06-03T22:30:00.002+02:002012-06-03T22:38:26.173+02:00Sardinia I<i><b>Agriturismo</b>. </i>The word itself, like so many others of its Italian brethren, just sounds inviting. It's a word I hadn't heard before coming to Europe a few years ago, but it turns out it's the way to see Italy anytime you're outside the major cities. Part agriculture (you stay on a real farm or in farm-ish surroundings), part tourism, it's essentially a much cooler-sounding way of saying 'bed and breakfast'.<br />
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And so it was that I embarked on my first agriturismo experience to spend time on <b>Sardinia</b>, a large island west of Rome and mainland Italy in the Tyrrhenian Sea.<br />
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Oh, and it is also part of <i>paradise. </i>We knew we were on to something when we bought a map at the airport, and it listed over 500 beaches. But more on the beaches in the next post - for now we'll focus on the agriturismo part.<br />
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An Internet search months before landed us at <a href="http://www.turismorurale.org/" target="_blank"><b>l'Aglientu</b></a>, a cozy agriturismo located about 15 minutes by car from Olbia, one of the larger cities on the island. It provides a nice bit of confidence for such a new experience when the owner of the place replies to your e-mail within the hour of your inquiry - Antonella at l'Aglientu did just that.<br />
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It was a perfect launching point for daily excursions to all other points on the northern part of the island (The south and west of the island was a bit far for our tastes, and with beaches everywhere nearby, the idea of spending some prime sun hours in a car held little appeal).<br />
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The rustic rooms were spacious, and clean the grounds were situated in postcard-perfect countryside (complete with chickens, wildflowers, and a family of basset hounds) and every morning breakfast was waiting in the outdoor nook.<br />
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And cheap! At not quite high season, 70 Euros a night for a better-than-hotel experience was a nice treat. Basically, it's exactly the kind of place that makes us northerners start fantasizing about selling all our worldly goods and starting up a small B&B, er, agriturismo of our own.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Breakfast waiting each morning </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Picked up some items during the day for an impromptu happy hour</span></div>
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<br />Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-81341879067152805182012-05-20T17:50:00.002+02:002012-05-20T17:52:22.843+02:00Me and ChiSigns a North American might be assimilating to a <b>European lifestyle</b>:<br />
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<li>You first reject, then accept, then regularly seek out, mouldy cheese.</li>
<li>Your suits get slimmer.</li>
<li>Your <b>love handles</b> do not.</li>
<li>Your bathing suit shrinks - not to Speedo-level, mind you, but to at least half the size of the tent-like Abercrombie shorts previously favoured by you and most of your old countrymen.</li>
<li>You have not eaten a meal in a car for at least 3 years.</li>
<li>You see approximately 92% fewer fake breasts (but who's counting?).</li>
<li>You have bought a scooter.</li>
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Enter <a href="http://www.misterchi.nl/" target="_blank"><b>Mister Chi</b></a>. </div>
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Mister Chi is the <b>scooter shop </b>in Amsterdam was where I took the plunge and bought this motorized marvel, to help get into town much quicker. They are Chinese-made scooters, as cool (some would say cooler) than the Vespa at about half the price too. They're quiet too, for those of us who like to remain <b>polite Canadians</b>.<br />
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I guess the immersion into Europe just became a little more immersive. They are allowed on bike paths, it costs five euros for a full tank of gas, and parking pretty much anywhere is free and easy; it all just made sense.<br />
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I live about a 30-minute bike ride to the city center, which is great for fitness but it can be a huge hassle when the wind is blowing in my face (when isn't it?) or I need to get farther (on the bike, it's close to 45-60 minutes to reach friends living on the opposite side of the city).<br />
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You can also <a href="http://www.misterchi.nl/verhuur" target="_blank"><b>rent</b></a> a scooter at Mister Chi to check out Amsterdam. It's a sweet way to get around the city, especially if you want to check out things happening outside the center and want to get around quickly. It's way cheaper than a single taxi ride and about 100% more enjoyable.</div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-80632614475287797702012-05-18T13:50:00.001+02:002012-05-18T13:51:05.013+02:00The Downsides<br />
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<b>The final installment of a four-part series on being an expat</b></div>
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Time for a Change | The Favourites | The Differences | <b>The Downsides</b></div>
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The final part of this expat exploration admittedly is a bit of a downer. Then again, the title <i>is</i> "The Downsides". They are, from my vantage point, still far fewer in number than the upsides, so you can expect much more of latter in future posts.</div>
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<b>Lost in Translation</b></div>
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As far as foreign places go where a native English speaker can set up camp and get by in his/her own language, the Netherlands is head and shoulders above much of the world, and not just in a physical sense. The Dutch have the second-highest proficiency among non-native countries in terms of English skills.</div>
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Still, the expat can occasionally wade into all kinds of difficulties. I experienced it just the other day, rather severely, where in my mostly decent Dutch I told the guy cutting my hair "Not too short please, just something nice for my upcoming wedding." I obviously got it wrong by a word or two though. Yikes. I looked like <b>Jim Carrey</b> in Dumb and Dumber.<br />
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<b>The Home Town Advantage</b></div>
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It's likely that there are variations of it in almost every country, whereby the locals enjoy a cheaper cost of living than do visitors. As they should. Still, here in Amsterdam at least, the difference feels acute. The red light district is not the only place where expats pay to get screwed. </div>
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It's very likely that, in a given workplace, the expat will be paying <b>1250 EUR</b> for an apartment that the local Dutch native will be paying 500 EUR for. This is because many Dutch are eligible for subsidized housing, entering the rental market at a very low rate and then keeping it out of the sights of regulators, who would prefer that as income rises, eligibility to receive subsidies wanes. </div>
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This means expats, partly out of ignorance but mostly out of the years in waiting list time to receive this government goodie, pay often two to three times more in rent. Many landlords are aware of this, with ads saying "Expats Only".</div>
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Schooling is also an issue, with foreign students paying many times more in fees than locals. This I can understand - the Dutch families that have been paying tax into the system since little <b>Jip or Janneke</b> was an embryo deserve to be paying less than the outsider who just arrived. Most countries do this, I believe, so no harm here, except to the wallet.</div>
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<b>Missing Persons</b></div>
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Far and away the biggest problem with being an expat is the <b>absence of good friends</b>. Good old friends, I should say, because there are definitely some good new ones to be found.</div>
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Still, I've noticed often over the past few years that new friendships lack the foundation that cements old friendships. With their anchors in shallow, sandy water here in <b>Amsterdam</b>, new friendships often drift down the canal at the sign of the first ripple or strong wind. They haven't had the time to develop the strong base that old friendships have, a base formed by years of laughs, tears, life in general. Too many times - and I am equally at fault - people just fade away here.</div>
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A <b>shared cultural background</b> is also often missing abroad - it's not something I ever considered before I came, but not being able to reference a key Saturday Night Live clip or share a piece of lamentation pie over the demise of the <b>Montreal Expos</b> can sometimes be a sad thing, strangely enough. </div>
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It doesn't get much easier. I regularly bike past any number of lively cafes and see a group of guys having a beer and a laugh together and I feel a real jolt of sadness. I once heard a saying along the lines of "you can't make new old friends". <b>Corny</b>, maybe, but spot-on. This was reinforced over the past week, with some great friends in town. With their recent return to Canada again, missing from these streets and pubs, the void is palpable.</div>
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<b>Delayed Culture Shock</b><br />
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This one caught me <b>off-guard</b>. I anticipated culture shock upon first arriving, with different unspoken cultural norms, strange foods, and the mystifying ways of foreign women. Turns out that was all kind of a breeze (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">holla</span>). For anything that one might think of as "strange", I was able to chalk it up to exciting newness and a new way of looking at things.<br />
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But now, being no longer really a tourist and having immersed myself in the cultural fabric - a neighbourhood for more than 6 months, a job, the requisite government red tape - the shock has been like a time-release vitamin. In some cases, this has been a tough pill to swallow.<br />
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Things begin to grate after a while, as they can no longer be considered just quirky or new. I've been scolded by a number of retailers or service people too many times - <i>me</i>, the customer, the one with the money and the option to take my business elsewhere. I've met <b>mulish stubbornness</b> combined with arrogance on a level I've never seen. My oft-documented hatred of shrieking Dutch children has not diminished. Bumbling or just plain poor service has not improved (seriously - how hard is it to <b>hold the onions</b>?). I won't say too much because A) I have met some great Dutch friends and colleagues and B) every country has its warts that can only be seen after a few years - but the shock effect is real.</div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-91117110839761973832012-05-14T14:31:00.000+02:002012-05-14T14:31:21.308+02:00New posts coming this week - Sardinia, Holland, Expat Life and more! Ok, not more, but still!Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-1111165074234567112012-03-31T20:55:00.002+02:002012-04-03T10:00:03.379+02:00Vive Les Differences<div><div><b>The third of a four-part series on being an expat</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Time for a Change | The Favourites | <b>The Differences</b> | The Downsides</div></div><div><br /></div>Some differences grow wider as the expat life is prolonged. What seem at first like small cracks and tiny charms become bigger potholes of annoyance; on the other hand, some items that make you scratch your head actually begin to make sense as you assimilate.<div><br /></div><div>I'll speak mostly of the <b>life in Amsterdam</b>, seeing as how it's where I've been the majority of the time since leaving my homeland. And of course Canada, where I spent the previous 3+ decades. And while a country of 30 million and a city of 700,000 can never be reduced to just a few generalizations - there are exceptions to everything - here goes. Let's dispense with the world's most over-talked-about topic first:</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>THE WEATHER</b></div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Canada</b>, there were times every winter when the temperature hit minus-30 that I would growl and shake my head, plugging in my car and swearing "we humans were not meant to live like this"</div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Amsterdam</b>, there are times where the sun doesn't come out for weeks and the rain and gloom make me growl and shake my head, unlocking my bike and swearing "we humans were not meant to live like this"</div><div><br /></div><div><b>CONVENIENCE</b></div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Canada</b>, as in most of western civilization, stores and pharmacies are open after 6pm.</div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Amsterdam</b>, as in much of nowhere else, most stores pharmacies close at 6pm. While getting home to his/her family for dinner no doubt enhances the pharmacist's quality of life, it does little for mine. While it only occasionally inconveniences me now, I can imagine how much it will suck if and when I have a baby, and am on occasion reduced to using a tea towel as a diaper (for the baby, I mean).</div><div><br /></div><div><b>PEOPLE</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>In <b>Canada</b>, the emphasis is on home life and you have the space to make it happen. This, coupled with the need to drive every day and everywhere, does little for street life and energy.</div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Amsterdam</b>, the average apartment is pretty tiny and often home to unwanted roommates like mice. This, coupled with a bike-friendly culture and neighbourhood shops, does create an environment for seeing hundreds and thousands of people on a weekly basis - in pubs, on the streets, in cafes.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>BATHROOMS</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>In <b>Canada</b>, your bathroom is often quite spacious and accommodates your need to sometimes spend some quality time there.</div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Amsterdam</b>, the toilet is located in insanely small quarters. These amount to little more than poo closets*, and your head can even be touching the door at times. No loitering here, people - do your business and move on. Claustrophobics must literally s**t themselves.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>AMBIENCE</b></div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Canada</b>, ...</div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Amsterdam</b>, it's everywhere. On weekends in my old apartment, I would hear accordion music wafting in the windows while at night. Candles light up the windows of homes and cafes every night, and even the exteriors of many buildings are lit up thougtfully.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>BEER and WINE</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>In<b> Canada</b>,<b> </b>you'll find a decent bottle of wine for $10 and a case of 24 beers will set you back around $18. But then you don't have to beg for a glass of water and can use bathrooms for free.</div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Amsterdam</b>, the same decent wine will cost you $5 and 24 beers can get as low as $10. But water is scarce in most establishments, and the mind-boggling practice of charging <i>clients for use of the bathroom</i> is commonplace.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>CULTURE</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>In <b>Canada</b>, cultural pockets do exist. But when non-Canadian friends ask what's typically indicative of Canadian art, cultural traits, and food, I really need to search before sheepishly mumbling something about Inuit carvings, politeness, and maple syrup. None of which are bad, mind you - they just seem to lack a little pizzazz.</div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>Amsterdam</b>, as in all of Europe, locals can point to very real, and very beautiful/cool/tasty cultural norms and identities. The area of De Pijp in Amsterdam, just as one example, has full paintings on the exterior of some buildings to showcase the art of the person for whom the street is named. Paris, Barcelona, Rome, etc. all fairly drip history and cultural and culinary richness.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:78%;">*Yes, I will likely regret having written "poo closets" at some point in the future. But for now it seems to fit.</span></div><div><br /></div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-34567929573296235912012-03-26T21:21:00.004+02:002012-03-27T09:31:05.396+02:00Almost ThereAs a cocktail of extreme busyness, mild writer's block, and a big life event coming up soon, this blog has taken a back seat and I do apologize. The good news is that there are some drafts already drafting, some posts almost posting. <div><br /></div><div>For now, have a look at one of the best pieces describing <b>life in Amsterdam</b> I've ever read. It leaves out the copious amounts of rain and lousy service, but otherwise it's spot on. </div><div><br /></div><div>I took the big photo atop this page on a brilliant early spring day two weeks ago, and these guys and their dogs would fit well into this article: </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.afar.com/afar/going-dutch">AFAR Magazine - Going Dutch by Chris Colin</a> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-84038895649612041882012-02-21T21:45:00.001+01:002012-02-21T21:45:57.122+01:00MustMust... blog.. again... soon.. I know... soon, soon...Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-49311580586485792662012-01-29T19:55:00.008+01:002012-05-20T08:00:52.660+02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJqKeFs5O-7uUE1Zj6KBcLvSEjiCm7EiCuXjDjoAq6PLO6Af8-TEFP-AU_q71V4JfNCBfvql51gQ3yy3NL3udoBhpHBrv8GqNZHXFrhyastF6Q5m4lpb1IQn6nENIT2w0bVaGLWcYtyd9/s1600/IMG_4671.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703144058457993730" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJqKeFs5O-7uUE1Zj6KBcLvSEjiCm7EiCuXjDjoAq6PLO6Af8-TEFP-AU_q71V4JfNCBfvql51gQ3yy3NL3udoBhpHBrv8GqNZHXFrhyastF6Q5m4lpb1IQn6nENIT2w0bVaGLWcYtyd9/s400/IMG_4671.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><b>Spain's Costa Brava</b>, 90 minutes north of Barcelona. Muy agradable<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMlpmHgyMqEKBFJbBH-khb_VBMvbnJq3Jdo6tFNucX_MSSWIsWUIoMQ8woWC49xJrKnLMbuL1awyAg8eKW4wMNxKwToPpw8pxd4dlq_BuEm0e-kh34Gq4ZDdnZV8gWbMzsPKB2efbO3nDN/s1600/IMG_6829.JPG"></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 100%;">Time for a Change | <b>The Favourites - final (for now) </b>| The Differences | The Downsides</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 100%;">Wrapping up the <b>Favourites</b> section of the four-part Expat series, here are some images that convey some of the richness of Europe, all within a few hours' flying from Amsterdam.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiug-eeCK9MwjfcERxcGhnAbOCfBBS9MO6QjPKyAAeD28U5cI0mcB7SY4dd5sdtjRxKIvBdUvRN_RPEG6ezDAMkU8HOwwkC4zsRCsOmWjVVNTMP80eTPXr9vQ5zWfOPuXg4Cx1_Ism6mq5E/s1600/IMG_4498.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703133394498125922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiug-eeCK9MwjfcERxcGhnAbOCfBBS9MO6QjPKyAAeD28U5cI0mcB7SY4dd5sdtjRxKIvBdUvRN_RPEG6ezDAMkU8HOwwkC4zsRCsOmWjVVNTMP80eTPXr9vQ5zWfOPuXg4Cx1_Ism6mq5E/s400/IMG_4498.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Above - <b>Sintra, Portugal</b> - just your random, everyday medieval castle in the sky. Amazing.</div>
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Below - <b>Lisbon, Portugal</b> - the view from a room where I lived for month (the city, not just the room). Lisbon (and really, all of Portugal) is too often overlooked as its bigger neighbours get all the attention. Nice people, fantastic climate, laid-back life - it needs to be doing better than it is.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga13_IZE50lZ0ScY6v5Lcvj-e_auSx6EZ_layYsFlfuUMbjh1J8h6xFxguppHYXOY3UBvguHLukTdUWkDxbU6HcXhoMldYA1qRaNUnIPsvpvSXlhcGs2LHG_xNTCJYw8jBeeF4DLP3C4JR/s1600/IMG_4269.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703133385919754146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga13_IZE50lZ0ScY6v5Lcvj-e_auSx6EZ_layYsFlfuUMbjh1J8h6xFxguppHYXOY3UBvguHLukTdUWkDxbU6HcXhoMldYA1qRaNUnIPsvpvSXlhcGs2LHG_xNTCJYw8jBeeF4DLP3C4JR/s400/IMG_4269.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEymCkfy8ASk7DOXqsVs3whYPY6BqS9jVEF56AUK1c_MQ8Mvc_uLIoiS1nqS58aZRP4aaODwRKGwdzjk5RE494I8hWitsPRuXS9zxharyuJQeKsew9S-9Y4Cgvt8nf40AfYHBsA66uSsvK/s1600/IMG_3007.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703133364397808882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEymCkfy8ASk7DOXqsVs3whYPY6BqS9jVEF56AUK1c_MQ8Mvc_uLIoiS1nqS58aZRP4aaODwRKGwdzjk5RE494I8hWitsPRuXS9zxharyuJQeKsew9S-9Y4Cgvt8nf40AfYHBsA66uSsvK/s400/IMG_3007.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Above and Below - <b>Peniche, Portugal</b> - Home base of the Baleal Surf Camp. A great place to channel your inner Bodhi, but you don't need to rob banks to live here.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gGosvIIfTcwKc76hZ2zRJe6zUgfC4HUaw9LARGPk0HTcKB2nxm2HpRsY_cN-Jk6SlTxdv5v7fgfQI4Yk3GxPr8rOErhGGHO6P8_L_iqTP1ZyGFQWBwaXag4rGGmElkNFNkkrcEs1IX2-/s1600/IMG_3044.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703137122635761138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gGosvIIfTcwKc76hZ2zRJe6zUgfC4HUaw9LARGPk0HTcKB2nxm2HpRsY_cN-Jk6SlTxdv5v7fgfQI4Yk3GxPr8rOErhGGHO6P8_L_iqTP1ZyGFQWBwaXag4rGGmElkNFNkkrcEs1IX2-/s400/IMG_3044.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></span></div>
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Below - <b>Amsterdam's VondelPark </b>(again). I'm not sure if Europeans invented the urban park, but they sure have perfected it. Places like this exist all over each major city I've been to in the past three years - a welcome break from the busy streets.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkPek5PsGsc0wHOcJJ1fc76VTZkVQGq-QETEABYKP8Yqco4pEDN7mKkb6PUvi0sPHv2-qfC8tod147lmwhuAGxA1A7MiGp5Z0rF53ISsCNofrDwV_CLek7QcEvy9tJz63iRoaVlY4IzfI/s1600/IMG_2773.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703133356472993570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkPek5PsGsc0wHOcJJ1fc76VTZkVQGq-QETEABYKP8Yqco4pEDN7mKkb6PUvi0sPHv2-qfC8tod147lmwhuAGxA1A7MiGp5Z0rF53ISsCNofrDwV_CLek7QcEvy9tJz63iRoaVlY4IzfI/s400/IMG_2773.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
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Below - <b>Domburg, Netherlands</b>. A few hours south of Amsterdam, this town is a surprise for anyone, expat or local, who is accustomed to the crowded houses and busy streets of the bigger Dutch cities. Miles and miles of coastline (why does kilometers and kilometers sound strange? anyway...) and sandy beaches can be found here, all ringed by dunes and then the town itself, which is full of classic pubs, pastry and gifts shops, and <i>lekker</i> restaurants with a Belgian influence.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMlpmHgyMqEKBFJbBH-khb_VBMvbnJq3Jdo6tFNucX_MSSWIsWUIoMQ8woWC49xJrKnLMbuL1awyAg8eKW4wMNxKwToPpw8pxd4dlq_BuEm0e-kh34Gq4ZDdnZV8gWbMzsPKB2efbO3nDN/s1600/IMG_6829.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703137158894827458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMlpmHgyMqEKBFJbBH-khb_VBMvbnJq3Jdo6tFNucX_MSSWIsWUIoMQ8woWC49xJrKnLMbuL1awyAg8eKW4wMNxKwToPpw8pxd4dlq_BuEm0e-kh34Gq4ZDdnZV8gWbMzsPKB2efbO3nDN/s400/IMG_6829.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 100%;">Below (2) - <b>Provence region, France</b>. Read Peter Mayle's "A Year in Provence" - it's like a vacation in paper form. And it describes this fantastique part of the world more eloquently than I can.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajq-zWBQOlEGI_ZhBW-Sbks3IJ-Ltnv1RSYkDezeTQ0IFJ7bZeJYuAwSG53GAHaN5JgRyolJ-1_7EshAwjAkMK48IApaHUU7dVhqqqSwNap6aH8fWHRPINc1uBNTjcdpgrFZ8tuDAYX4B/s1600/IMG_5951.JPG" style="font-size: 15px;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703137148511932898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajq-zWBQOlEGI_ZhBW-Sbks3IJ-Ltnv1RSYkDezeTQ0IFJ7bZeJYuAwSG53GAHaN5JgRyolJ-1_7EshAwjAkMK48IApaHUU7dVhqqqSwNap6aH8fWHRPINc1uBNTjcdpgrFZ8tuDAYX4B/s400/IMG_5951.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMbf2VLEKalh7jiW2sLMGcDiNpCuUHxTLrF8pNcPxVXAEnHoTtXL2PR4-6gO2Rdxef7DWKxX_CuvToKebotrVX2yj_gO5llUcmafdoOaFDoWL7PniEoJ4H4JOtQjSOzzODmp0eUhGSbN9/s1600/IMG_5896.JPG" style="font-size: 15px;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703137146412388178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMbf2VLEKalh7jiW2sLMGcDiNpCuUHxTLrF8pNcPxVXAEnHoTtXL2PR4-6gO2Rdxef7DWKxX_CuvToKebotrVX2yj_gO5llUcmafdoOaFDoWL7PniEoJ4H4JOtQjSOzzODmp0eUhGSbN9/s400/IMG_5896.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 100%;">Above - <b>Silute, Lithuania</b> - The woods here on a sunny late winter day were perfectly lit and peaceful. Lithuania has many small towns like this, along with some beach towns that I will update you on at some point in the next year or so.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;">Above - OK, I snuck in one more <b>Paris</b> photo. Couldn't help it. The addiction is permanent.</span></div>
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</div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-66600583021440741822012-01-22T10:42:00.010+01:002012-01-22T11:56:37.362+01:00<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:100%;">Time for a Change | <b>The Favourites - continued </b>| The Differences | The Downsides</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:100%;"><b>Part 2 of a 4-part series on being an expat</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:100%;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:100%;"><b>Istanbul, Berlin, Barcelona, Paris, London, Provence</b>... all places that held an exotic, if remote, place in my brain before leaving Canada. Add in <b>Lisbon, Lithuania </b>and<b> Malaga</b> - respectively, two places I never thought I'd see and a place I'd never heard of, and, well, I've been very fortunate. More photos to come later this week.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFEOOogimlKLkhHXCRE5XsXH9XsNPZGUZac80tzoPXybCjNnSDd0lKVwOAnhS3sJeVrR4ycsH4SWommVFxrH2DPP87fV3xdmY3VeUQRbhtNCR9pj1tLPMr5NXITzLUDBqibYF1JxDxK5rE/s400/IMG_1547.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700393009042010002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Above - within minutes of arriving for the first time in <b>Malaga</b>, a place I had honestly (shamefully) never heard prior to four months before arriving. A late afternoon in March brought with it a warm sun, beer, and pure simplicity. And it's become an all-time favourite and somehow a place where I will end up, sometime.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Below (2) - more Malaga, more simple perfection.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCD2sngiDrHyvGm1MxLG0jgZnaZRJRfsLGrInHzLjCMBXKJI5lMtC4Q9OEvz1gCrLw6yjSO7AiJBe3UQBN63PpdCc8JZ5zHkMNKquMEIbZcw_NlQ6haRNOD0OSd4x8lHLVnsjildvxPHz2/s1600/IMG_1713.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCD2sngiDrHyvGm1MxLG0jgZnaZRJRfsLGrInHzLjCMBXKJI5lMtC4Q9OEvz1gCrLw6yjSO7AiJBe3UQBN63PpdCc8JZ5zHkMNKquMEIbZcw_NlQ6haRNOD0OSd4x8lHLVnsjildvxPHz2/s400/IMG_1713.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700401632457870322" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSOeXs1XYPoD6UytZCDBwHCWI4jg9ffgYA7qnzB0c22-RoL2AYWM3MmwJByC_qk1Wsw8vvDofeomLuk2er72KTZ7uiQdK2khEfm1DgOa6ES2QLMyKHPSAoKoHqLU7I77t1_Tr_23Lgpp0h/s1600/IMG_1594.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSOeXs1XYPoD6UytZCDBwHCWI4jg9ffgYA7qnzB0c22-RoL2AYWM3MmwJByC_qk1Wsw8vvDofeomLuk2er72KTZ7uiQdK2khEfm1DgOa6ES2QLMyKHPSAoKoHqLU7I77t1_Tr_23Lgpp0h/s400/IMG_1594.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700401618185640482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7-cWdsmxkig2OZEoRLpVJWxKKkcC3ZlV6WhyY68wZGiu8tjR_ZneYSmFckv9dJnUT8S8HuzpRCs71c-JL9slKe-zgTQSvfDC7wq9FXJUtQSWl0lz367a7g-_fCTWCP06XmEuIVbwTnr1/s400/IMG_0291.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700392997443277938" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">Above - a favourite piece of art from the <b>Musee d'Orsay in Paris</b>. Europe fulfills every cliché in the book, in the best way. You breathe in more culture here, and appreciate the finer things. There's a lot going on in this painting, as a young man goes off to war.</span></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKPgLhwSaOS1cAK05HZsj-yMh8CQGOLxWaj1x_P9KQss5ZEmnTw035Z05qZlN7dUxKYFcuo5wnOTEYpgMR2RVWmverdIAI7L9GED23gYZfYYIVdCryNIVqu2eONmXubEiEJF2D_2inaxU/s1600/IMG_0566.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKPgLhwSaOS1cAK05HZsj-yMh8CQGOLxWaj1x_P9KQss5ZEmnTw035Z05qZlN7dUxKYFcuo5wnOTEYpgMR2RVWmverdIAI7L9GED23gYZfYYIVdCryNIVqu2eONmXubEiEJF2D_2inaxU/s400/IMG_0566.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700392973394478418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"></span></div><div>Above - <b>Amsterdam's Leidsestraat</b>. A burst of sun every 2-3 weeks or so seems to serve like a massive magical eraser for the wintry gloom. Ditto below, in London's Kensington Gardens.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaWecqZcFiHqCTJr8V9cMnPuDaMNJKRbfnd85Ry4dramVA8_jWPSG95QMrTVMdMVn5KsWaONH4DuQtQfm4rASQ9MpTp8oCXGQQvgC6F4BK2ONanGnr-msM3MZ5XQrABQ2_0gIVSAH9xraF/s400/IMG_0845.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700392979049264226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">Below (2) - <b>Barcelona's La Boqueira market and a Gaudi building</b>.<b> </b>If northern Europe is all to grey and muffled in the winter, Barcelona (and Spain in general) is the antidote - full of colour and energy.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmEnKoY7WoJ1EssdaTfflwfWbNmkFFyy95k4SGLQ4VcdMvfuCuDPhE8BSGSH7r9-KRSTOv722uZ7V-6sYGUQOEwCx_U_nWB8q795jSekMvRlVoYaVHXVZUD7CCytPp9PFht-HK6jr-oyK/s400/IMG_1117.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700392994459019698" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlpFqKxx7AagTFZKEKpeuhiVEDCbZYmCgqYV653kaESPEXiMxc-xiD8Lq8gzjSHfYfbQUPH0nR3jXSPWl_gc8ZA5OTWgPNPr_fcDNcfnzBKcgqzICIIfilAmAMUikPD8m8L3HacB7F7Wi/s400/IMG_1067.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700401624644349970" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div>Below - <b>April in Amsterdam</b>. No one shakes off a long dark winter like Amsterdammers, and the plants and birds are in on it too.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3O-Fq59JHipQ2aN1EuFaSXOt6Xr_MwLslwUvAffIfZGcyW1wVqsBBfjbh7t4RgMftC-VmZNVRXv-Xyi3aGyJMReIEfC1_ALYIrw9LSrRAOXujLG_SnKKaeOvUj-F82Xm8htUJ3iIzJJF/s400/IMG_1859.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700401652578325554" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Istanbul (3) - on the <b>Galatea Bridge </b>at sunset, and more. Amazing history in this city... but, with the tourist trap feel and constant hustle, overall it seems somehow better suited for the camera than the soul.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhzL3CAFN_3kFXRz9FABR4OvEbr5qUH0Vh9HhTbdTbr4uDXvlwCKZocu9vK8pbpAawBzK8dIjea2U9AXfmjFWZWtNbeLm7bgAT81XzieDT8lMNoAHEK79Ny4aKDbdWtUs4FYGqu2Hq7I6B/s400/IMG_2616.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700401659141896706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60WqxwrMrAp1A_RTI0MjM-KSErnAzmQusaJdear1j8XfrZFISMig6jE9rUTZDzBHPLhnAjlTUjvkjludpZ2vVwNlWBbMIRroRbXVMPi2Y_fBiFswNFPHBx735ekWvY7qME0LL1n2SgREt/s1600/IMG_2591.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60WqxwrMrAp1A_RTI0MjM-KSErnAzmQusaJdear1j8XfrZFISMig6jE9rUTZDzBHPLhnAjlTUjvkjludpZ2vVwNlWBbMIRroRbXVMPi2Y_fBiFswNFPHBx735ekWvY7qME0LL1n2SgREt/s400/IMG_2591.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700406387950720322" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHd2L9sOi5Hrl9Vd4vOTZv0u-dU6DTWAqY4gJWogzCHxolEad_CU_eQsXUI-LYLeUFFXAaMMiN_tp6GuEQqx-pW-BNIlZMFLE17V1RsdqCOXBjEIQOiKjRpKSo0o9BIlebxmeNB3kRabv/s1600/IMG_2399.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHd2L9sOi5Hrl9Vd4vOTZv0u-dU6DTWAqY4gJWogzCHxolEad_CU_eQsXUI-LYLeUFFXAaMMiN_tp6GuEQqx-pW-BNIlZMFLE17V1RsdqCOXBjEIQOiKjRpKSo0o9BIlebxmeNB3kRabv/s400/IMG_2399.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700406379986295442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWQqQSNSLKnM3naR4RR0UwToLiWdL6ocCdpo6H9QK5rbSlPf8pIMESycrReXlS3BAMYypx-RSY1L4Zklop7vM95loc05LI76ESK5al1tJ3giBASjOiPrCEEWynXSKIfY-kKGj_q-vF7wQ/s1600/IMG_2325.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWQqQSNSLKnM3naR4RR0UwToLiWdL6ocCdpo6H9QK5rbSlPf8pIMESycrReXlS3BAMYypx-RSY1L4Zklop7vM95loc05LI76ESK5al1tJ3giBASjOiPrCEEWynXSKIfY-kKGj_q-vF7wQ/s400/IMG_2325.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700406370551500978" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-34012165660100566552012-01-11T21:52:00.016+01:002012-01-17T07:08:19.769+01:00The Favourites<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">Time for a Change | <b>The Favourites </b>| The Differences | The Downsides</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><b>Part 2 of a 4-part series on being an expat</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">So this is perhaps a little like a holiday-time clip show, where the writers take a break and run their favourite episodes of the past year. But some sunshine is in order, no?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">I caught myself wistfully looking at photos from the past 2 years of travels and realized that there is no way I would ever have seen even half of these places if not for taking the initial big leap and leaving my old nest consisting of equal parts comfort and deep dissatisfaction. I still hope that at least one person who checks out this blog is inspired to do the same if they're stagnating or seriously bummed.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">So here goes - places, moments that have left a permanently pleasant imprint on my brain since leaving Calgary in late 2009:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxFQFqt6oYEodzOHOnDcGDG_ctWJXxqf553t_9K2ZApeEvTKnwNNoBoRW1lub6AOSzF0yrXgu09AaCn5qFy9g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>Above - <b>U2 in New York at Giants Stadium</b>, September 2009... Bono's voice has gotten pretty un-Bonoish, but still it's quite something to share a peaceful evening with 70,000 people and your oldest friend (not Bono, but a guy named Jason).</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Below - The <b>Jardin du Luxembourg in Paris</b>. It was walking here for the first time in July of '08 that I first knew my days back home were numbered; that there is such richness and beauty and culture to discover (these photos are from a subsequent visit) October. I kinda want to make a joke here to make this sound less sappy, but, well.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZTcaomV_SBHtRJsvjOZnFVjHzuy0pw2RujYZgUO7JihwK1K2MDfR1b2IRs7A13Prck5FOoj7LDWU8fQKldsKsNiGD5bz7bfNte9eGpcZ3he8-rzgV6y4F2VCkOVXR5znPYlJjYilGt7t/s1600/IMG_0309.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZTcaomV_SBHtRJsvjOZnFVjHzuy0pw2RujYZgUO7JihwK1K2MDfR1b2IRs7A13Prck5FOoj7LDWU8fQKldsKsNiGD5bz7bfNte9eGpcZ3he8-rzgV6y4F2VCkOVXR5znPYlJjYilGt7t/s400/IMG_0309.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696488131839215602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJqHaqrJniT8nPbIHy97kvaAkR51dIXdt7cpEcWgp6TefISBfy3vMd-agltquGZChyEGAhLTbu74grNCfQFCWdAlpAYY9zvjaJDCiq55d110-i2QU46fXURvf5abxpcLjngq_bm9bD3uN0/s1600/IMG_0314.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJqHaqrJniT8nPbIHy97kvaAkR51dIXdt7cpEcWgp6TefISBfy3vMd-agltquGZChyEGAhLTbu74grNCfQFCWdAlpAYY9zvjaJDCiq55d110-i2QU46fXURvf5abxpcLjngq_bm9bD3uN0/s400/IMG_0314.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696488117718640066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tD6g1veT1AIe7D6BM_Fxq5zYJeR1nlMh_ynX4IdT7uaOscBEAcfo16Jf85-A5PK72GHSMXX7v73UOdUbVxPQLLOlB_loUjXqFsFncVUHrDbGQR4gP7EYtw-zrYz6IrzITDwKakB1xYSd/s1600/IMG_0197.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tD6g1veT1AIe7D6BM_Fxq5zYJeR1nlMh_ynX4IdT7uaOscBEAcfo16Jf85-A5PK72GHSMXX7v73UOdUbVxPQLLOlB_loUjXqFsFncVUHrDbGQR4gP7EYtw-zrYz6IrzITDwKakB1xYSd/s400/IMG_0197.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696485704407115330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Below - <b>Vondelpark in Amsterdam</b>, the city's version of Central Park. Essentially, it's the main artery of the city that connects south and north, east and west. Baked (not from sunshine, I assure you) tourists wobble on their bikes, dogs run amok, and bikes and barbeques are everywhere. Picture-perfect ponds and canals snake their way throughout, and there are some cafes and restaurants too. Impossible not to relax when coming here.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvHz7ewJ__tNcsdLvUUeKOdxyviO1ssPVLBTFGmSWbfuUcQLpns6RAfKTRHrkrIzY1Pro1Jzaj-moLWhpFpvFVbVgRyDb8CzvDIanmwrdFA3nuxr2spsCy_Fi67UmvyeTXxxGElz8m1wp/s1600/IMG_0517.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvHz7ewJ__tNcsdLvUUeKOdxyviO1ssPVLBTFGmSWbfuUcQLpns6RAfKTRHrkrIzY1Pro1Jzaj-moLWhpFpvFVbVgRyDb8CzvDIanmwrdFA3nuxr2spsCy_Fi67UmvyeTXxxGElz8m1wp/s400/IMG_0517.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696488157975647602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qFqKT6Csg9uKSoBHic591AhZ-F0_1FsqmPPv5GKuoJEq3wM-7HxCk8d8w8Z-38t-LdqRZvCZKzFWV5cF_V87iGr1kpTg01DYKRrwtOJqVkCZElxsXIk1soG-3JC6YIPlFBpKw262FHtl/s1600/IMG_0515.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qFqKT6Csg9uKSoBHic591AhZ-F0_1FsqmPPv5GKuoJEq3wM-7HxCk8d8w8Z-38t-LdqRZvCZKzFWV5cF_V87iGr1kpTg01DYKRrwtOJqVkCZElxsXIk1soG-3JC6YIPlFBpKw262FHtl/s400/IMG_0515.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696488139609558146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8YyntHq6zfJWNyaptv5Ona0kCIhr03wMVgg0n-rK2lTLyWEbW4H2_hX4hWxx5SpfMMyCKYIEdyIqgYQGjNkpLr77fqHa57W19u0LZLdyC67il2w33AmbmVn8y3MBXmB3ceSTICdD14UZ/s400/IMG_3377.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698000564750015538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div>On to the coast <b>north of Lisbon</b> - away from the hustle of big-city Europe, it's almost like discovering a secret time capsule as you take a train along the ocean away from Lisbon's Cais do Sodre station. <b>Carcavelos, Cascais, and Estoril</b> are the stops here, in some cases just a few steps from the ocean. The sun beams down here like it's giving Portugal too much and not saving enough for the rest of Europe sitting further inland.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHcvyTdaGu6WX89k7QtiB8abKouZxiV6VGaw45B-SbPnu5x_xjhxkPwvLkcXMDZGs94cbRrcMZ7zGlH1pA8B7ONvP_jUJioUT7nqG5maOGrI_X8Bhyphenhyphen1fJ8yX4VwaE9gJefl8FtHBgmiyg/s1600/IMG_4310.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHcvyTdaGu6WX89k7QtiB8abKouZxiV6VGaw45B-SbPnu5x_xjhxkPwvLkcXMDZGs94cbRrcMZ7zGlH1pA8B7ONvP_jUJioUT7nqG5maOGrI_X8Bhyphenhyphen1fJ8yX4VwaE9gJefl8FtHBgmiyg/s400/IMG_4310.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697997795125125458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qyopKdzQASxsei-cAPQgDv0FX_6FzAgwJEhsQ6jMYvUCQJEox9FQ55x20y_a5Ej84h27MsBXqTuBNHt9xa3cEEgZcxoYejbsHzu0ORweXqUrvHnUlJtej32RPin_WnEbptzYjKrzOu8R/s1600/IMG_4317.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qyopKdzQASxsei-cAPQgDv0FX_6FzAgwJEhsQ6jMYvUCQJEox9FQ55x20y_a5Ej84h27MsBXqTuBNHt9xa3cEEgZcxoYejbsHzu0ORweXqUrvHnUlJtej32RPin_WnEbptzYjKrzOu8R/s400/IMG_4317.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697997801412157506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjyfc04qdvpgzLZPJaxiSmUF6li1NJdRLcUXY79U4Sp7ekOCBvRyK9gSV7LIWdrSXrk0Dx_TXp9T3S_jfjUa6TqOBt9TdSPi1qL8nFCh9gpj7F4FB0CFjfvEnSs_4_qYD6mBgqcUI7y2i/s1600/IMG_4417.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjyfc04qdvpgzLZPJaxiSmUF6li1NJdRLcUXY79U4Sp7ekOCBvRyK9gSV7LIWdrSXrk0Dx_TXp9T3S_jfjUa6TqOBt9TdSPi1qL8nFCh9gpj7F4FB0CFjfvEnSs_4_qYD6mBgqcUI7y2i/s400/IMG_4417.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697999539627630242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj48NHkwbFqlIoI71OESy6nsSlhdtjy8SCpO0J2Swi2XX9yLaTc7WzS8JMqc7vH7NRm_6xPWaf3boYpadUpkINqG4eQWqe39rs4JVg-bBD8cFuU3vuNKMzgh-pU8bkYZR0-1U47t1LvqDig/s1600/IMG_4360.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj48NHkwbFqlIoI71OESy6nsSlhdtjy8SCpO0J2Swi2XX9yLaTc7WzS8JMqc7vH7NRm_6xPWaf3boYpadUpkINqG4eQWqe39rs4JVg-bBD8cFuU3vuNKMzgh-pU8bkYZR0-1U47t1LvqDig/s400/IMG_4360.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697999525499154418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishQQ_1OQsKsBzD7ucRTCtzflyT3o_nD9MPvzlzSX8laROzdA18HiFwaFjq00PkusV36DZERk-BYO17HMMnOg1QYBgYSzIxZJBBLrgoGyGOKud_gTPhksGVdNjo-omUQ4kTmoTqhyphenhyphenRvva0/s1600/IMG_4402.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishQQ_1OQsKsBzD7ucRTCtzflyT3o_nD9MPvzlzSX8laROzdA18HiFwaFjq00PkusV36DZERk-BYO17HMMnOg1QYBgYSzIxZJBBLrgoGyGOKud_gTPhksGVdNjo-omUQ4kTmoTqhyphenhyphenRvva0/s400/IMG_4402.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697999521125080658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And more favourites to come soon...</div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7336356048668824711.post-769808717584703222011-12-26T13:53:00.010+01:002011-12-30T16:26:07.827+01:00Expat Experience - Part 1<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZEyb9VhZObdsLyXecIrOG6I2CFYPyenMD4c34Fg7pdQUAR8W21fH6u-wlQLmTdXjZyH8IXsTx0E8gbRgd8ccO2qyHWMvZNIkBQjHEgjr2kAnNxOMK5Pa3KAsPrv1zib7vyU8u7zvKnp7/s1600/IMG_4832.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div><b>The first of a four-part series on being an expat</b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Time for a Change</b> | The Favourites | The Differences | The Downsides</div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them</i> </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Einstein</span><span style=" border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:Geneva;font-size:16px;color:initial;"><br /></span><div><br /></div>It happened about three to five years ago. Somewhere between justifying to myself the purchase of a pair of jeans that <b>exceeded $300</b> and reading about a security guard who was <b>killed</b> in a shopping stampede in some non-descript North American city as part of its annual Black Friday insanity.<div><br /></div><div>It was between those two events, punctuated by hundreds of similar ones and accompanied by my own mild-to-less-mild forms of restlessness and depression, that I decided that <b>a change was in order</b>. My society and I were focused on the wrong things.</div><div><br /></div><div>In <b>brief visits to Europe</b> (I'll exclude the UK if it's OK, as it is as bad as the US) in 2003 and 2008, I was struck by the smaller size of houses, food dishes, and stores, but mostly by the seeming contentedness of everyone I came into close contact with, be they relatives or relative strangers. People seemed less restless, more content.</div><div><br /></div><div>I began to long for the absence of big box stores and <b>ripped moms</b> patrolling the aisles of the Apple store; for a lack of discussions about the next addition to the deck or the latest Wii. I wanted to say <i><b>non</b></i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, I am still not immune to desiring nice things; <b>nor is Europe some bohemian, egalitarian utopia</b> full of happy people and devoid of consumerism. It still helps to have money, no matter where you are. And there are plenty of people here who are trying to keep up with the Joneses, or les Jones or the van Jonesenburgs. </div><div><br /></div><div>But it's still nowhere near as all-consuming as the all-consumption of North America. You can still wedge some fresh bread, some cheese and a $5 bottle of wine (and it's pretty good wine) under your arm and sit in a park and have a great afternoon with friends. Try doing that in <b>Toronto or Calgary</b> and see how many people join you. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZEyb9VhZObdsLyXecIrOG6I2CFYPyenMD4c34Fg7pdQUAR8W21fH6u-wlQLmTdXjZyH8IXsTx0E8gbRgd8ccO2qyHWMvZNIkBQjHEgjr2kAnNxOMK5Pa3KAsPrv1zib7vyU8u7zvKnp7/s400/IMG_4832.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691549753192852338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div>You do feel it immediately here - that you can get by with less and somehow <b>live more</b>. In Amsterdam, a cramped apartment and a bike and bus pass are all seen with unjudging eyes, and it sure doesn't impact your romantic life much. I'm not sure how many girls would have been keen to jump on the back of my bike back home, but in <b>Holland</b> it's common to see - and pretty damn fun, for both parties.</div><div><br /></div><div>Contrast that with discussions with friends from Vancouver, Dallas, New York... all have told me tales of woe where they're regularly asked (within minutes of meeting a woman) "What do you do?" or worse "What do you drive"? </div><div><br /></div><div>Places like Vancouver and Calgary are loaded with eligible girls and guys, none of whom can seem to get satisfied with one another as relationships today match the consumption patterns of regular products - each one is waiting for the next <b>iPerson</b> upgrade, even if the current model works great. I was as guilty as anyone.</div><div><br /></div><div>And so, the life of this expat for over two years now has been a revelation. Call them <b>expat eyes</b> - a way of seeing things from a different perspective. Here it's about focusing on more important things, while at the same time not needing to live like a monk either - there's plenty of nice stuff to acquire if you want, but it doesn't define you as much. There is a better balance, a sort of <b>permissible contentedness</b> with however much or little you have.</div><div><br /></div><div>I would paraphrase Einstein's quote to add that <i>we cannot solve problems while being in the same place where the problems began</i>. I think this kind of changing of perspective is only made possible by changing one's physical location entirely, if even for a few months. </div><div><br /></div><div>The <b>expat experience</b> has made a firm enough impact to ensure that this new perspective will stay with me wherever I go from now on, as expat or ex-expat.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Jeffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14433566477340228406noreply@blogger.com2