Muiden, I think.

Again, impulse to ride out thataway. I never really know where I am headed thus I cant tell you exactly where I have been. I did see signs to a castle and then saw a castle so I reckoned it was Muiderslot, which I intend to visit. Oh hey! I picked up my residence permit today. Do I care that I am legal now? No. What I do care about is that now I can buy a museum pass and AS A RESIDENT have a full year to use it. Tourists (said with that tone) only get one month.

The date on the photos tells me I have been meaning to post these for...28 days now. Time flies when you are suddenly in school again.

It was a nice day, I recall. My joyrides with Loretta have increased trazillion-fold now that I have to endure the perils of street biking on a penny farthing with 100 other cyclists and the constant death threat of motorbikers who nay give an inch as they whirrr past. Fuckers.

I've nailed down the route to my usual places and enough general infrastructure that I can find my way around to new places. Pretty much anything in the center is "turn right on the Rijksmuseum street", which is my heuristic. Anything on the west side is "ride past the Rijksmuseum on the rijksmuseum street". Still, on occasion I have to use the dreaded hand-held navigator which adds to the stress (still haven't really mastered sudden braking using my feet)(so I end up using my feet).

Thus, a joyride is going nowhere and getting there when I get there.

It's funny, for being in an urban centralized area how quickly one can be out among the sheep and other signs of pastoral life, within fifteen minutes, on a bike.

I'll take any road that leads to a brug (bridge).

Riding through a small community I spot this magnificent plastic cow...there, up ahead. I must get a picture.

What's that? A kitty! A tabby no less.

Cats here have been proving a little too nonchalant for my taste. I'm lonely. Cant I just pet you?

This guy was all for it. Hopped up on the table and let me pet his fur off.

I guess I did a good job cos he put on the belly show for me.

I'm keeping his fuzz on my glove.

 Happily riding home after having made a cat friend. I'll be back, tabby. Back for more. 

Nearing home. These vagrants hanging out in the parking areas. Probably stoned. Staring at utility boxes. 

Yup. A total nod.

IJburg

I assume it is pronounced EYE-burg.

Rode out last week or so. After homework, after a nap. Sun was shining. Caffeine went down, chamois went on. It's not far from my house but I had three hours tops until the rain began, according to the trusty RainAlarm app (the most useful bit of advice from Orientation day).

I had no real agenda other head thataway. Always toward the water. I am some form of waterfowl. Internal radar always heading to the end of land. I ended up in IJburg, which has a nice dunes. Local told me that it was only built up ten years ago or so. Reminded me of Foster City, CA that way. Prolly built over a dump but who cares.

"Nether" stands for "under". As in UnderLand. The NL is mostly below sea level. Yet I am still caught off guard when riding past a body of inland water and for no logical reason am I standing beneath it's rim.

Even if it is just petrified poo it is intriguing. I cant figure out what the pattern and material are. I kept it. It's on my windowsill - a growing collection of Neat Things.

With the constant shift between rain and sun these guys are a regular sight.

Oh look, two.

Reading your comments

I cant seem to comment back but I'll figure it out. In the meantime - received, acknowledged and much appreciated.
Here - have some funny pictures.

24 September

It is a beautiful day outside and I am in back in the Pit of Despair as I call it, reading long wordy text by social economists which produces a nice sleepy effect.

Had a health issue earlier in the week. Missed a class to go to the UvA doctor. Navigating the Dutch health care system, international student insurance and the Dutchie phone I've been avoiding was worse than the pain which brought me in. I have an ultrasound on Monday for an angry ovary.

Feel I am falling behind already. Got to it this morning after my walk and have now some kind of plan. I may still be behind, but at least I know where. I've x to read, x to write, more x to read and two more x's to write. All by Wed or Thursday. That's just for one class. The other class is easier - no writing until exam time next month. Expect a blog screaming of avoidance and terror.

I took a nice ride on Loretta Martin (the road bike I brought with me) Friday night after my nap, after the trauma of the day. Great ride. I have a routine of taking a walk every morning, 30-90 minutes, and a walk or ride in the evening. master's study is more like being unemployed. I'm on my own, so I have to manage my time, structure it. But there is no rubric against which to objectively measure how well I am doing and my anxiety levels are a poor consultant.

I fantasize about dropping, withdrawing any money I have and hitting the road on Loretta. Biking til I am completely broke but at least I enjoy that time so much more than reading this crap, feeling lost, freaking out that I am light years away from any kind of thesis topic. I read the example papers provided us and think, oh fuck that, I could never write that. Then I recall how many times in the past seven years I opened an assignment, read what was expected, saw someone else's final product and said, oh fuck that, I could never do that. And then amazed at the body of work I ended up producing. Sometimes I look at my old papers and wonder who the fuck wrote that. I know it is just a matter of sinking in to the material, reading, taking notes, saying stuff out loud...and ideas begin to form.

But I would really prefer to be outside playing right now.

I have pictures I've taken here and there, either from rides or just walking around, but to post them, now would mean getting one of my phones and moving shit back and forth and that will distract me for sure. Blogs without pics are pretty boring, I think.

But I just came here to check in.

Violence, Transit, Money.

I'm really not used to blogging but it's been on my mind every day to write something. So persistent is this nagging that it has become The Blog. In the beginning (how biblical) when I committed to doing this I told myself I would be very technical about it. I'd write in such a way as to provide a strict accounting of life here. I'd provide a blow-by-blow depicting the transition of from there to here.
I'd do the financing part in an .xls.

That has proven to be too much work. A typical way of setting the bar too high, so that I would never "get around to it". In order to get this thing actually moving I am going to have to do it the way I do anything else - just do it. Stream-of-consciousness is how I operate so there it is.

School started this week. You'd be proud. I've done well in the classes and by that I mean: show up on time. Bring my notes. Pay attention. Do not draw too much attention to myself. Contribute by sticking to the course material. *Try* to not talk *too* much.

But it turns out that talking a bit more than I am comfortable with myself doing has been a good thing, as in fairly well received. The things I am compelled to air have generated discussion by others who, prior to my gentle outbursts, sat silently attending to the instructor's long talks.

It also turns out that this university, as my classmate who did her undergrad here, positions itself as one that embraces debate. Wonderful. I have chosen well.

***

I took a break from reading and went outside in the courtyard to sit for a bit (ok, to smoke). It was midnight. The music from the Lounge (a room where residents can hang out, I've never been) was really loud. It's midnight, shouldn't the volume be turned down, I thought. I've read some comments on the campus (campus housing, there are 900 residents here and a stipulation of the rental agreement is that one is enrolled in a university) facebook page mentioning the lounge activity going past hours, or the music volume. Generally the hours are observed; once in a while they are not. I noticed that no one hung out their window and shouted for the music to be turned down. This would never happen in New York, I thought. OK I've never lived in New York, but it's normal to me that if the music is too loud in a residential area, someone will say something. Here I'll say that "Americans are confrontational". I wondered about that. I think it is in the national heritage of "our rights": hey, I have a right to say such-and-such.

There are no guns.

Here, I dont worry about being shot. Not that the fear of being shot has ever kept my mouth shut. I just figure I'll get shot, but I'm going to get my word in. I wondered if people here have guns. How many guns are in the Netherlands? I think it is not the presence, or non, of guns that makes this society so cooperative but the way crime is handled. There is so little crime that more resources are devoted to individual cases. That's my guess. It's not like, oh - another shooting. It's like, whoa, step aside, we got a big case here. In any case, I reflected on how generally well people get along here, on a wide level. One local told me: we are a small country, we have to get along.

***

I took the metro to school today. At my new income the metro is a luxury. I've been riding my Dutchie bike everywhere. Which brings up a new conundrum about logging my miles rode. Since 2009 I have logged every mile I ride. Here, however, my Dutchie bike has no odometer on it. I have a spare I could hook up but it would feel weird. Basic bikes here are just that and most have some rust. Bike theft is huge, so most bikes are real low-key. Putting even a $25 Cat Eye on a Dutchie get-around bike would be like putting a spoiler on a Ford Escort. My trips to the meetings in the Centrum are about 9 miles round trip, maybe 10. Trips to the store, meh, depends on which one. But these little trips are not really worth checking google maps to see how many miles they were.

Of all the things I have had to let go of in this transition, dedicated mile-logging is one of the hardest, and only because I never saw it coming.

A week ago I bit the bullet and sprang €7.50 for an OVChipkaart (transit pass). I loaded €20 onto it. To put everything in what I call real dollars, which is just so I can make sense of it in my current way of valuing my purchases, I multiply everything by 1.18 which was the EUR:USD exchange rate last time I looked. The OV card is good for trams, subways and busses. It prices a fare like so: €1 base then I think .19 per km. So my trip to school today was about €1.87. At $4 roundtrip, the metro is a splurge. But it was pouring rain and this first week of classes I just want to get somewhere on time. My focus is on making sure I have all my crap with me, my clothes are clean, and I've showered. I can easily think I have all the routes down when really I've only rode a route twice. Two absences and you're dropped from the course and the Sociological Perspectives prof is very clear about being on time. I hear thats a Dutch thing- timeliness. I love it. I always felt like such a PTSD freak with my being half an hour early for everything (except meetings. To me thats the one place I can get there when I get there, I can relax a bit. I'm deducted only in social approval points which never really meant shit to me anyway).

I have two courses the first six weeks, then one drops off and another one jumps in. I'm still taking it day by day, in some cases week by week. So I have two classes on Tues, one on Thurs, one on Fri. I've already signed up for a Symposium, a lecture and a Library Research Seminar.

I've not got to money, as promised in the title. I think thats a whole other blog. To give an idea:

I have what I need. I have food and rent and I keep my receipts and log everything I spend. More on the psychology of the change from worker to student later.

Blogging Sober

Good god how does one navigate all the choices on this thing? When I first started blogging I was in a relapse and spend days, literally (drugs: there is no clock) online and tweaking my blog layout. I lack the patience for such a thing now. Also, I leave the house.

I decided to start a blog in order to consolidate my reports into one place as I have friends who are not on zuckerbook. It sounded easy - I've blogged before, right? 

No, it is not easy, not while sober. It requires patience and most of all, focus. It also demands risk. I've been tailoring my output to different audiences and a blog means that I will have to unplug the part of my psyche that (classic of all charlatans) keeps track of what personae I have presented to whom. 

If I ever needed more evidence that I was or am a big fat phony then there it is. Thats the thing about telling the truth - it is real simple, and a simple way to live. Simple in a good way. I dunno if I've told any actual lies to anyone (like I'd tell you) but it is more the bluster I exhibit that concerns me. It's OK if that goes though. It never did me much good anyway.

So to get back to technical (if you've read this far): 
As I have failed my goal of documenting my daily accounts I will instead post the trip report in sections such as Money, Possessions, Language, and other categories descriptive of just what is involved with getting rid of nearly all of one's possessions and packing up to move abroad for grad school at the ridiculous age of 50.

I should have titled this Coffee and a Melatonin because that is what I had tonight at 22:45 when I walked in the door and set to write a blog post. At present the two are battling it out with each other.

That I promised to write a blog is the one thing that made me avoid doing it - along with not knowing whether I could do this shit sober or not. Pfff. I write on facebook all the time. I stopped doing that though, the way a parent would remove TV privileges until the child does their homework. Nothing wrong with fb it just has the power to distract me. I log on to do or see one thing and end up three tabs over watching hurricane videos. That sort of thing.

The other more fear-inducing (read: cold shot of fear up the back of the neck) motivator for writing these entries is practice for my upcoming coursework. I am here for school after all. It's a one-year long Masters program. that means a shit load of writing whether I feel like writing or not. 

Day 26

Today was a day of several accomplishments. I've already forgotten the first two. I'm so goal-oriented I move on quickly, haha. The second two were that  made it to a meeting not just on time but early and I did so without a navigation program. Yep. The second accomplishment was that I got lost on the way home by missing one turn but I now know my way around well enough that I a) didn't panic or reach for my phone and b) enjoyed the new scenery as I made my way home. At one point I crossed a bridge over a freeway. I rarely see freeways. I think there is just the one. I stopped and realized I live in Europe.

That's right, I now live in Europe. I moved to Europe.

I stopped to let that sink in. It is easy to get lost in the daily struggles, tasks, achievements, goals, bummers, confusion and whatnot and forget to take a moment to stand back and look at the big picture. When I remember why I am experiencing the temporary discomfort of settling in to a new place then I am no longer a victim of misfortune. I made the decision - had a dream -- to go to graduate school and later, to do so in a country that was not America. Not even on the NA continent. Asia would be wonderful but I really cant stand the heat. Europe seemed just right. And now here I am. Thank you freeway overpass.

I also picked up a service commitment tonight at the meeting. I am now the literature person for the Saturday night speaker meeting, though I only spoke with the chair and lit persons after the meeting and must still be voted in at next Saturday's meeting. There weren't any takers for the position tonight but to me no dream can ever be called come true until after it happens. If someone else stands up for it next week I'm ready. I'm American. I fight. I win.

It took me moving abroad to re-appreciate AA again. It was on August 9th that I woke up and realized  had not had a hug in nine days. That scared me. I am convinced that the single most important thing that contributes to the well-being or illness of a mammal is social contact. And touch is even better. Hugs are the best. I aimed for seven per day back home. Single best thing one can do for their immune system. Beats fucking up two lives anyways, which is how I frame my getting into a romantic relationship - a thing I have managed to avoid for some years now. But I need my hugs. I hugged at work a lot, as just a way to say hello, if OK by the other person (like I asked).

Since I got to the meeting early I took twenty minutes to walk around. Saturday night in A'dam central there are a lot of people out. I got off the bike and got to amble for a bit, which I really enjoy. I see more at that pace. It has been warm out - for here that is in the 70s (like my wardrobe) but by golly it's humid and if you are from the US east coast may I reference the concept of relativity here. Compared to what I am accustomed to - this place is fucking humid. And it will rain every day. It may be three minutes or two hours, but it will happen. But gosh darn the flowers are sure purty. And they are just everywhere.

But here are some not-flowers...

 Cups for every mood. I need these.

I have to look up what an immigration doctor is.

That's right, express yourself. Ride on, mopeder.

That's a life-sized stuffed animal in there. I've quit eating meat.

Day 22

Riding out to the coast today. Need to get out of this area.
This is not the way I wanted to begin my new blog. Really I have a beautiful template going - sections, order, bulleted areas to fill in describing various sections of my first three weeks here. But that makes it hard. And really, I just want to write.

So, I've broken the ice.

[UPDATE]

Rode out to Zandvoort. It was supposed to be a 2h10m ride but I was in no hurry and happy to indulge my desire to follow my psychic white rabbit down whatever path, lane or street that felt warm. Hard to explain. Have you ever just felt beckoned? In a gentle way? A concise explanation would include the words "a sense of wonder".

After years of work-school-work-school-work-work-work I am in no rush while riding my bike around the Netherlands, with no homework due and no shift to get up early for. Though it's not quite a vacation. I'm now on a grad student budget and that is better than OK. My appreciation for things increases the less I have and my resourcefulness and creativity go through the roof. It's always the getting and not the having that I cherish the most.

So, a bunch of pics from my three hour journey to Zandvoort, which I think translates to Sanford. Included are rather functional pics just showing what the paths look like, or an intersection, or a boring ol' street. When I am interested in checking out a place I want to see what the every day normal boring parts are.

Something about large cement structures e'er draws me in. Underpasses, bridges, old military forts. I think it is the angles. So much potential for coloring. I'd like to make a Freeways coloring book.

I said, A FREEWAYS COLORING BOOK.

This is what the bike roads that traverse the country look like. Actual roads. In the Seattle area there were sections of I-5 that permitted cycling, briefly, and only until the route re-gained an arterial road.

Flowers!

More flowers! (you should leave now. It does not get any more intelligent than writing Flowers! over pictures of flowers).

Um...

Oh, okay!

Maybe a calendar instead featuring this one shot in 365 different color schemes.

These red and white directional signs quickly shot up the priority ladder of my internal navigator. They are cycling path signs and are extremely well thought out. After just a couple of days I was able to start finding my way around using them. OK,three weeks.

 

Hi. I am an over-excited sunflower. It reminds me of Bill the Cat from Bloom County

Nearing Haarlem. Having been to Haarlem via train on my first trip here I knew right where I was. It sounds like a small thing, but let me add that it took two long days to really nail down how to get from which elevator in my building to my apartment. So knowing where the nearest free public toilet in Haarlem, Netherlands would be is a goddamn comfort.

The lone figure sitting on this bench is why I preserved the image.

As I neared my goal (as evidenced by everything around me suddenly become sand) I stopped to snap a pic of this graffiti...

...when out come a' rushing this train of horses!

I love graffiti. It's enduring presence should, in my view, keep art theorists on their toes. 

On closer look this appears to be the work of a school or some other legitimate body. Although it is pretty, and I love anything colorful, getting permission to spray paint a public area disqualifies a piece from being graffiti.

Zandvoort: Ventura on The North Sea.

 This magnificent white house.

I ride around a lot so we go from beach to streets to beach etc.

This tiled house.

The Vegas style residential complex for beach lovers. I think it's the tallest building in Holland.

 Estrima.com if you are interested. This electric car has a 60-mile range, a fact which stunned the passenger, who it turns out had no idea that he had been riding since Belgium in an electric car. That's what I love about being in a country where pot is legal. Well, one of the things. That and the soundness of it, from a social policy perspective. 

The car goes for about €13k if you are so inclined. My phone died before I could get pics of the interior. It really is a compact little deal. They are permitted to drive anywhere cars or bikes can travel.