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’.

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Bird shelter pic: young Nile Goose