The funny part is that I ended up on European soil before I actually saw it. Last Wednesday at 8:00 in the morning, my plane was roaring into Stockholm Arlanda airport a few minutes ahead of schedule and I couldn't see a single thing out the window. The screen built-in to the economy seat in front of me read 300 meters above the ground and I'd never seen so much fog in my life. For all I knew, we were about to land in a stand of trees, an ocean, or perhaps a parking lot.
Then, when the plane bounced down the runway, the fog cleared and there was nothing but snow and forest surrounding the airport in every direction, for miles. Stockholm felt like the coldest place in the world but man is it a beautiful city -- The Venice of the north. And the five days I spent there were filled with metro rides, Mariestad beers, good company, and even an accidentally sojourn into a seven level gay club. I made sure to have a Fika every day and formed an addiction to Mad Men. But, Stockholm was just the warm-up for my arrival here in Nijmegen, home of Radboud University, where apparently I'm supposed to learn something for the next six months. The first thing I learned? That my house is in the middle of BFE.
When I requested student housing I was working under the impression that it was somewhat near the university campus. Maybe not right in the center, but at least near-by-- a pleasant five-minute bike ride through quaint little avenues.
It turns out the assumptions really do make fools of us, because I'm writing this from housing complex Lent, a 30-40 minute bike ride away from campus and it's definitely an experience getting to and from the university daily. But, once I got over the initial shock, I realized the ride is really fantastic. There's a long bike path that runs parrallel to the train-tracks, a two minute ride from my place and it takes me over this bridge here:
View from the bridge coming home:
Then over the bridge, past the Centraal Stationen and to grandmother's house we go.
Last night, I stayed in town a little longer than I should have because I was buying some assorted groceries at Albert Heijn (the chain supermarket of Holland) and it was nightfall when I rode home. I was the only bicyclist without lights and was convinced I would end up tangled in someone else's spokes. Because you know what it's all about in The Netherlands? It's all about cycling in the Netherlands (shit man, there's even a wikipedia page devoted to it -- imagine the Cycling in Las Cruces page.) There are entire parking lots devoted to bikes that extend forever. They have their own traffic lights. And they have me, weaving awkwardly in between people. Check this, the first day I would nod and wave at people as we crossed paths and they would stare sort-of confused. Then, I told my dad about it and he said, "Well son. That's how they get around. You don't see driver's in Las Cruces pull up next to each other at the traffic light and wave saying, "Hey, we're driving! Fuck yeah!".
Back to my housing in the boondocks. It's a refugee camp from the 90's and the interior is sterile and hospital like. But the windows open nicely and I can smoke cigarettes in my room and the heater works. I have a view of a farm field out my window and right now the sun is rising over the train-tracks 150 meters away. Thanks to efficient public transport trains run every 15 minutes here. Up and down the line, 2-story passenger trains come barreling down the tracks. And, when the window is open they practically shake the frame. But, it's not too bad in the night when I close up shop. Although that's when the freight trains run.
Yesterday I googled "tabakwinkel" (Winkel in Dutch = shop... I laugh everytime) and set out in search of a place to get some good rolling tobacco. (I was breaking the bank buying packs for 7€ a day) and after 45 minutes bicycling through windy streets and trying to adhere to strict Dutch bicycling rules, I arrived. There was no sign on the door, but I wandered in and asked the older guy behind the counter what he recommended. He hooked me up with a sack of Samson tobacco and Rizla papers. I was, smoking a fine cigarette and enjoying the sunny weather on the ride back when it started hailing on me. It was pretty fucking strange. There it was bright and sunny -- and there was some seriously mean hail -- hitting me in the face. Welcome to The Netherlands.
