Undermining Authority, subject suggested by Sezwick

Picket line protester is being removed by police

This weeks photo challenge is hosted by RedDotCom

1. Fancy dinner, 2. me & colleagues at beach outing, 3. me at rock festival, 4. me & beer

I’m still trying to convince my employer
that I’m doing a job that ought to be done by at least three persons, and that
my multiple personalities do not make up for that since they are not on the
payroll. But there’s a glimmer of hope on the horizon: our top dawg, the
Attorney General, has in principle responded favourably to the idea of a web
bureau which should coordinate the information flow between the prosecution
service, the police and the forensic service, as well as all other things web.
To be established by yours truly. We’ll see. Like everywhere else, our civil
service is not known for its speed, so it could take a few months before I’m
really sure.

Anyways, we’re celebrating the fact that
Wouter has graduated from high school. Right now, Cybernene and I are sitting
in our computer den since Wouter has invited a few friends to celebrate in our
living room and we don’t want to spoil the fun by our presence. The three of us
are probably equally surprised, not to mention shocked, by the fact that he has
passed his exams. He’d probably win the title of Most Easygoing Teen in the
Universe without blinking an eyelid. When he was just a little kid he could
throw a tantrum that would have made J-Lo look like a mere amateur. So when he
grew up, Renee and I were unsure of what we could expect from our teenage son,
but he turned out to be a very sociable, likeable and uber-relaxed kid who
simply doesn’t have it in him to challenge his parents every chance he got.

Unlike so many of my colleagues with
teenage kids who frequently show up at work looking as if they haven’t slept in
a week after yet another clash with their teenage brood, I never could relate
to these horror stories which apparently are as common as rain in Holland -
which is pretty common. The one thing however that had me worried was his
attitude towards scholastic efforts. Over the years, he cultivated his relaxed
attitude towards life in general into an art form when it came to homework,
school tests and projects. I spent many an evening writing a synopsis of a book
he was supposed to have read and made lengthy essays on a variety of historical
subjects just because he couldn’t be bothered to start reading in time. Don’t
get me wrong here, he didn’t refuse to make them, he just wasn’t able to get organised
in time to do the job himself. So after a while we, as a family, accepted that
we would simply go for a pass, any pass, rather than academic excellence.

Wouter has a very bright mind and is the
kind of kid that gets comments on his report card like: ‘if he would only
open a book and pay attention every now and then, Wouter could achieve about
everything he wanted.’ Cybernene tells me that she used to be exactly the same.
If they can’t see the relevance of a subject, she and Wouter couldn’t care
less. I on the other hand, see relevance in everything and given the chance
would happily do a comparative study on a subject like the evolutionary
characteristics of Dutch and Tibetan pet hamsters. Just for fun. So it’s no
wonder that I was the last one to accept that our son would probably never
become a Nobel-prize nominee. But what makes it a lot easier for me is the fact
that he seems to have grown up a happy young man with a healthy amount of
self-respect and self-confidence. And I’m proud of him.

Shades of gray

Photo challenge: patterns, hosted by wickedgoodgal

firetruck detail, beer cans, peking ducks

Misunderstood

Last week the Dutch authorities rather unceremoniously sent the body of former Yugoslav president and war crime suspect Milosovic back to Serbia, amidst loads of Borgia-like cloak-and-dagger speculation and plot theories.

I guess Milosovic demise and subsequent repatriation prompted a sigh of relief on the part of many a Dutch government official. Generally speaking, the Dutch aren that interested in playing a role on the international stage, which is just as well since the place is no bigger than your average US national park. Whenever the Netherlands manages to make an impact on the international headlines, it has either to do with an international incident such as the Natalee Holloway case, or because of its idiosyncratic, liberal attitude towards ethical dilemmas, such as its infamous tolerance when it comes to marijuana or euthanasia.

Earlier this week, Italian cabinet minister Giovanardi bluntly equated Dutch euthanasia laws with nazi-concepts about racial purity. Unsurprisingly, this caused a major diplomatic fuss, and so far the Italians haven retracted their words. True, at some point the pragmatic, Calvinist Dutch and their strong penchant for individual self-determination were bound to clash with the predominantly traditional Catholic Italian ideas about family values and the sanctity of life, but accusing your fellow-Europeans of implementing nazi ideas??! Many commenters on popular Dutch weblogs retaliated promptly by subtly pointing out where exactly the Italians stood during the nazi era, so it seems that Giovanardi has shot himself in the foot in that respect.  So do we send Dutch special forces to  Rome, are we preparing for a first-strike volley on Milan? Nope, we don. If there one thing that unites the otherwise completely unrelated peoples of Europe, it their mutual distrust of politicians, either local or foreign. So the Dutch will keep on eating Italian pizzas and pasta, and go on their summer holidays in sunny Tuscany as if nothing has happened. And I expect the Italians too, will keep coming to Amsterdam to enjoy their joints in the comfort of a bar overlooking the local police station. The Dutch are getting accustomed to being misunderstood.

Which brings me to an altogether different phenomenon: Dutch Village Theme Park, Holland, MI (www.dutchvillage.com), the  ark [that] recreates a village in the Netherlands over 200 years ago, complete with authentic Dutch architecture, formal gardens, canals and windmills?  First of all, let me say it quite a feat recreating the illusion of an 18^th c. Dutch society. Having said that, this Michigan Dutch Village couldn have been more alien to me if it had been a  Klingon homeworld exhibition.  But then again, I guess Disneyland Main Street is as typically American as say, sushi.

Wooden shoes (lompen?in Dutch) seem to be  a central theme of this park. Attractions range from folk dances in wooden shoes to the Wooden Shoe Slide (o additional charge?. And the FAQ section of their website provides an answer to the question: ?Do the Dutch people still wear wooden shoes? Answer: In the Netherlands today you will not see people wearing wooden shoes in the big cities. You will, however, still see farmers working in their fields wearing wooden shoes. ?

The answer really baffles me since in all of my 44 years, Ie never ever seen someone wearing lompen?as daily footwear, nor do I know someone who did, or even know someone who knows somebody who?I suspect that a handful of ecologically inspired farmers might still use them, but other than that theye very much a relic of the past or a tourist trade prop. Equally puzzling is the food selection at the Hungry Dutchman Caf? where they serve Boerenkool?, our “Famous” Dutch potato salad. To us, Boerenkool is kind of stew-like dish, usually eaten during the winter season, with green cabbage, mashed potatoes and diced strips of bacon, and hardly qualifies as a salad.
And the fact that the menu includes ricadellen?is disappointing to say the least. Although Dutch Village claims it a kind of Dutch sausage, most Dutchies wouldn agree. Although it is in fact, sausage-shaped, it one of the most infamous types of Dutch junkfood, the kind you eat on the go. Made of offal, and spiced up with chemical additives that make you glow in the dark. Or give your SUV a 60 per cent power boost for that matter. No Dutchie in his right mind would ever admit to eating a fricadel. And as far as I concerned, items such Mozarella Sticks and Lasagne should be temporarily deleted from the menu until wee sorted out this little episode with the Italians.

Still, I think the people behind Dutch Village have done a remarkable job of trying to recreate a slice of Dutch history. Our own tourist industry couldn have a done a better job. But just like Dineyland Frontier Land attractions, it authenticity leaves somewhat to be desired. Either that, or all U.S. Americans wear Davy Crockett fur hats with raccoon tails, and I the most ignorant person on the planet.

So across the board, we Dutch don wear wooden shoes. And no, we don go around sticking lethal needles into the unsuspecting elderly or the handicapped, or those suffering from split hair ends. Maybe the odd Italian cabinet minister yes, but otherwise wee a pretty relaxed lot. Thanks in part to our liberal attitude towards marijuana.

I have this annoying habit of trying to keep up with the news wherever I am. During each and every commercial break, I switch to the TV text service to find out whether or not the planet has been hit by a giant meteorite, or to see if the Loch Ness monsters have already begun their annual trek. My cellphone has at least twenty news channels including CNN and CNBC, and Ie bookmarked several dozens of news websites. Usually, a TV window with CNN or the BBC news channel murmurs unobtrusively in one corner of my computer screen. And when I’m on holiday, I always bring a shortwave radio with me lest I should miss out on the outbreak of yet another war. I know, I know, it sounds a bit obsessive, but that’s what being an editor is all about.

Today, when Ren嶪 and I returned home from the bird shelter, I read that war crime suspect Slobodan Milosovic had quite unexpectedly died in his Former Yugoslav War Crimes Tribunal prison cell.  Which is of particular interest to me, because this prison is situated right here in our city. Earlier this week, another Yugoslav war crime suspect called Babic committed suicide in the same prison compound. Milosovic, the former Yugoslav president, is said to have been responsible for the death of at least 200,000 men, women and children  during the Yugoslav war in the mid-90s. Ignoring the complex legal discussions about formal responsibility, being the president and C-in-C of the Serbian troops during that period, makes him guilty as hell as far as I’m concerned.

The Dutch I’m afraid to say, don have a very clean record when it comes to the former Yugoslavia. After the collapse of the old communist regime, old territorial and ethnic disputes flared up again amongst the states that once made up the Yugoslav People Republic. UN peacekeeping troops were flown in, and in 1995 a Dutch UN-contingent was ordered to defend the mainly muslim population of a Bosnian town called Srebrenica. A strong, heavily armed force of Serb veteran troops commanded by one of Milosevic’s most notorious henchmen, gen. Mladic, advanced on the town. After UN air support had been denied, supposedly because the request didn’t have the right format, the Dutch commander, lt.-col. Karremans saw no other option than to let the Serb troops pass to prevent his own troops from being wiped out. Karremans even raised a glass of local schnapps with Mladic, misguidedly thinking that this was a time-honoured and chivalric tradition amongst military commanders of opposing forces after a defeat. And a defeat it was. Not so much for Karremans, who flew back to the comfort of Dutch suburbia, nor any of his soldiers, but for the 7000 Bosnian civilian refugees in Srebrenica who were subsequently slaughtered by the Serb troops during the five days that followed that fateful day in July 1995.

The seemingly endless series of  formal inquiries that followed this tragedy, held our nation in their grip for a long time. I even saw one of my former colleagues testify on tv before a investigative committee. The poor man, a ministry of defence photographer, had inadvertently ruined a number of camera stills that were entrusted to his care and purportedly contained crucial pictures of the mass graves, shortly after the massacre. The capture of Milosovic a few years later, offered little to balance the trauma that was felt in the Netherlands over the Srebrenica genocide.

Once or twice a week, I discuss the Yugoslav war trials that are being held here in The Hague with a rather eccentric colleague of mine who works in the room next to me. He a leading expert on international law, and has been appointed by the Yugoslav war crime  tribunal to monitor the legal standards of several cases, including that of Milosovic who refused legal counsel from day One. It a real advantage for a news addict like me to have such a prominent source close by. There a downside to it as well though, since he sort of harassing me into starting a  Ph.D. research with him being my supervisor. So far, Ie not succumbed to his friendly, but relentless offers since I wouldn know where to find the time to embark on such a task. But I really curious about what hel have to say next Monday. From a legal point of view, Il expect him to say that justice has not been served, but I expect his more mundane side to add something like erves the f****r right’.

* * *

Bird shelter pic: young Nile Goose

Yet another attempt at blogging. Who knows, maybe Il someday find the time to blog on a more regular basis.

Yesterday, I accompanied Ren嶪 to the bird shelter and completed my first full shift there. I not a regular volunteer, however. Until now, I often showed up at the bird shelter at the end of Ren嶪 Saturday afternoon shift, and every now and then I did a few chores there such as mopping the floor or filling up the birdseed bowls before locking up for the evening. And last spring, I got to feed numerous young blackbirds, but that doesn really require a degree in nuclear phyics, all you have to do is put some food on a stick and offer it to them. Which pretty much sums up my experience as an animal welfare volunteer. But since her regular colleagues had fallen ill in the course of this week, I gladly came along to help and see if I had what it takes to tame a sparrow or two.

The first casualty turned into a rather traumatic experience for me. A beautiful, but totally limp barn owl was carried in by someone, and died shortly afterwards, cause unknown. I know that this happens all the time, and that Mother Nature can be an unforgiving bitch, but I still have to get used to the idea that not every animal can be nursed back to perfect health. I better get used to this if I going to do my bit at the bird shelter, but Il never be at peace with the fact that so much of these beautiful animals die because of human interference.

(l.) unfortunate barn owl, (r.) fierce creatures

So far, bird flu hasn reached our borders but confirmed cases have already been found in the countries surrounding us. Germany has dozens of confirmed cases of infected wild birds, and a French poultry farm was virtually eradicated when 11.000 turkeys had to be destroyed after a few animals had succumbed to bird flu. And since Germany is a mere 1.5-hr drive away, and you can reach Paris in less than 6 hours from where we are, you would be incredibly stupid to ignore the danger. But with the right amount of common sense and proper precautions, things can be held well under control.

On a lighter note, the duckling that somehow managed to survive an early, wintry start seems to be doing fine, and has taken an active interest in the human activity around him/her. The four young Egyptian geese however, dive into a corner and transform into a feathery, shapeless mass every time someone comes within a 3 ft radius. I don find them particularly attractive, but they do possess a certain ute?factor that is shared by most young animals.

(l.) early duckling, (r.) panicky young Egyptian geese

A special attraction for me is seeing Ren嶪 in action, handling even the biggest and meanest birds without batting an eyelid, whereas this particular afternoon, I was a complete failure at force-feeding a weakened, but wayward pigeon.

But despite my ineptitude as a fledgling (no pun intended) bird shelter volunteer, Ren嶪 and I know we make an excellent team, always have. Wee never at each other throat whatever the pressure, we don second-guess, and we respect each other expertise in various fields. Come to think of it, converting our lives into a reality tv-show would be as interesting as seeing grass grow.

After six months of digital stupor, too much work, and my usual series of lame excuses, I’ve decided that 2006 is going to be a successful xanga year. Best wishes to you all, and here’s my contributrion to this week’s photo challenge, Light-Shadow, hosted by Climenhaga. It’s the ceiling of the bathing room of the harem section of Istanbul’s Topkapi place. Speak to you soon.

The past few weeks might have been pretty hectic, but they were also very rewarding in some respects. My boss, the Attorny General ( ‘Procureur-Generaal’ in Dutch) retired and we had to prepare a lot of invitations, speeches, receptions etc. He’ll be teaching law at my old university starting next semester, as he already is a member of the board of that faculty. One the perks of my job is that I get invited to a formal reception or dinner every now and then, and this time the reception was held in the medieval Knight’s Hall of the Hague where our queen reads our equivalent of the State of the Union speech each year.

(left) Knight’s Hall (Ridderzaal) by night, (centre) interior, (right) Official throne of HM Queen Beatrix.

(left) Speech by the minister of justice (centre) Close-up - my boss, whose full name is Joan Lodewijk de Wijkerslooth de Weerdesteijn, esq., is officially a knight of the realm by (noble) birth. You can still be knighted by the queen, but in those cases the title cannot be inherited. (right) my new boss (l.) talking to his boss, Piet Hein Donner, minister of justice.

(left) minister Donner (l.) talking to US ambassador James Sobel (r.), (centre & right) my old boss, De Wijkerslooth presents the annual report of the Prosecution Service in our offices, during a press conference.

(left) a definite perk of my job are the posh dinners every now and then; nice food, but far too many glasses and pieces of cutlery for my simple taste and upbringing, though. (centre) a visit to the television set of “Opsporing Verzocht” (the rather tame Dutch equivalent of ‘America’s Most Wanted’), (right) annual office outing, this year we paid a visit to a project that aims to build a full-size, functional replica of a 17th c. frigate, that sunk during a sea battle against the British. 

After having visited the wharf, my colleagues and I saw our own country from a tourist’s perspective as we were did an open-boat tour along the canals of Schiedam, a picturesque town near Rotterdam, where every other house seems to be a jenever distillery (jenever being a very popular type of Dutch gin).

(left) Schiedam canals, (centre) Schiedam centre, (right) tall 17th c. houses, originally used for storing wheat and barley, jenever ingredients.

(left & centre) Schiedam houses and windmills, (right) the office outing ended with lots of booze and a BBQ in one of the many beach restaurants in Scheveningen, the seaside resort of The Hague (at this point I’m already pretty far gone…).