29 August 2013

Feminism and childcare


- I have everything I ever wanted in my life -- career, travel, lifestyle -- except a man and my own little family.
- Yes, but if you had a man and a child, you likely would have had to re-prioritise career, travel and lifestyle in order to accommodate your family.
- I don't think you need to sacrifice your life for your family.
- It's more about re-prioritising what's in your life. Your life is full, so when you add things into it, the rest needs to be...er...re-distributed.
- I don't buy it.
- Well, I would not live in Amsterdam anymore if it wasn't for my husband's commitments here. I would have given it two years then wrapped up the party and gone somewhere else where my career could effortlessly flourish and feel like an empowered professional again.
- But do you regret that?
- Definitely not! I get much more personal fulfillment out of my life with my husband and baby here than I got out of my life with my career elsewhere. But the blunt, feminist truth is that I have sacrificed my career, first for my husband's career, and now to care for my child.


I think above anything, the feminist and civil rights movements were meant to give people choices.

When I was a [overly-principled] teenager, I thought feminism was about women doing what men do, and not falling into gender stereotypes. I didn't want to be a nurse, teacher, or secretary when I grew up. And I would have viewed many of the things I now hold true in my early thirties as cop-outs.

But not doing what you really want because it's a gender stereotype also means you're letting gender stereotypes impact your decisions.
  • Do you love caring for your child(ren) full-time, and can afford to live off of one salary? Be a fabulous stay-at-home mom / dad!
  • Do you feel like a better mother if you're able to express yourself as a professional, as a woman, as well as as a mother? Go back to work and schedule lots of time for socialising!
  • Do you need to escape your family life periodically and re-collect your inner drive? Travel alone!
I'm taking 6 months off of work, and then returning to work 3 days per week for at least a year. If I loved my job, I would work 4 days a week.

I live in a country where all parents have the right to reduce their work week by one day per child. Many men take "papa dag" and only work 4 days per week, and many women only work 3 days per week when they have children (but don't seem to go back to full-time when their children grow up!). I don't imagine we will ever live in another country that facilitates part-time work so seamlessly, and I really encourage my husband to also take advantage of this situation while it lasts.

And that's another thing I really hold true, which I didn't appreciate in my overly-principled years: my life occurs in chapters. How I define myself now is different than 5 years ago, and may be different 5 years from now. I'm very lucky to have gotten to experience the career-driven, jet-setter lifestyle for a long and important chapter of my life, and I fully intend to return to an emphasis on career in a few years. But I'm also happy I get to experience being a wife and mother settled in one place who doesn't think about work after 5PM. Having a job that doesn't consume you has it's benefits too!

And the more of these different lifestyles I get to experience, the less I seem to judge the decisions of others.

06 August 2013

My [Dutch] first weeks with baby


"You must feed the baby every three hours, above all other needs"
"You must listen to the baby's rhythm"
"The baby needs to eat a lot, or it won't have the energy to wake up"
"Feedings should never go more than 45 minutes, even if the baby hasn't eaten very much"
"Don't use a bottle to supplement breastmilk"
"Your feedings are taking too long, you must use a bottle"
"The baby should lay against your body with its head aligned with its stomach horizontally when feeding"
"Always have the stomach below the head when feeding"

In The Netherlands, new parents are supported by:
  • A maternity nurse, who spends 6-8 hours in your home with you for the first 8-10 days of your baby's life
  • A midwife, who visits you at your home twice in the first week
  • The consultation bureau, whose nurses and doctors monitor your child's development until it is 4 years old
  • Your family doctor
  • Hospital staff from the hospital where you gave birth, if applicable
Each of these trained medical professionals gives you advice, with absolute conviction. Each piece of advice conflicts with the advice of the other trained medical professionals.

Eventually we realised that caring for a newborn baby was a matter of blindly re-prioritising dozens of "essential" needs, and blindly judging the validity of conflicting medical advice.

The Internet
- Is Amy in labour?
- Yes! And I'm on call to google anything that the doctor says that sounds dodgy.

I don't know how people -- especially expats -- had babies before the internet. Most anglo expats have more faith in their own medical systems than the country where they live, and whenever any information comes into conflict with our intuition / upbringing, we google it.
  • Does she seriously need to be woken up every 3 hours? And for how long?
  • How do you use a baby wrap / sling?
  • How long before we can use a soother?
  • How long does expressed breastmilk last? Formula?
  • How to sooth cramps?
  • When is sex safe again?
  • Why doesn't colic exist in The Netherlands? And how long does colic last?
  • When does this start becoming rewarding?
We quickly learnt, however, that Google does not simplify the whole conflicting-baby-advice issue.

Doing the math
Our Dutch maternity care nurses kept us on a busy Dutch schedule for our baby's first days. We were instructed to feed the baby every 3 hours, calculated from the beginning of the feed.

Every three hours = 8 X 3 hour cycles per 24 hour period
A feeding takes a minimum of 45 minutes, and up to 1.5 hours
Burping, soothing, and putting baby back to sleep takes a minimum of 15 minutes, and up to 1.5 hours
The baby should sleep a minimum of 16 hours a day = 16 / 8 cycles per day = baby needs to sleep 2 hours per cycle
Waking baby enough to feed takes a minimum of 15 minutes, and up to 45 minutes

[Horrible realisation]: If baby takes more than 45 minutes to feed, and more than 15 minutes to wake up + put back to sleep, baby cannot have minimum 16 hours of sleep per day! And each time baby gets less than 2 hours of sleep in an interval, baby is impossible to wake up for next feeding, perpetuating the cycle!

What was happening is the wake-feed-burp/cramps-fall-asleep cycle was generally taking 2-2.5 hours, giving baby a mere 30 minutes to an hour of sleep per cycle. Which was completely contrary to her natural rythm which meant we were constantly battling with her.

Battling to wake her up.
Battling to feed in under 45 minutes, but not so quickly that it aggravated her cramps and/or burping.
Battling to put her to sleep.

With both the maternity nurse and the midwife in the room we demanded that they make a decision for us. What is a priority: feeding every three hours vs. feeding the baby fully at each feeding vs. letting the baby sleep uninterrupted? We never really got an answer except "follow the baby's natural rythms...but make sure you wake her often enough to feed".

Feeling good
While I was on my mandatory 4-weeks-before-due-date maternity leave, my biggest job was to feel good. Sure, I had lots of little projects -- knitting a baby blanket, completing my Dutch exams, enjoying the sun, riding my bike daily -- but my primary responsibility was to feel good. In fact, my midwife repeated several times in one visit "You must take more naps!"

If I felt tired, I should cancel my plans and take a nap. If I had lots of energy, I should go out on my bike. Don't feel like cooking? Don't!

After birth, I was much more in need of care, and while I did have 3 people to help me, I was the sole food source for a little creature who needs to eat every 3 hours. And it often takes 2 just to feed her. Even though my best-husband-in-the-world (yours is too!) was doing literally everything else -- changing diapers, soothing cramps, bath time, waking her up, putting her to sleep, feeding me -- it was really a struggle to keep up with feeding her and recovering me.

- How's motherhood?
- So far I mostly lay, bleeding and feeding.

I really under-appreciated the damage to one's body that labour causes. I think we're all so focused on the labour itself and, most importantly, meeting the little "familiar stranger" (borrowed from my friend Sara) we've spent the last 9 months dreaming about, that we don't imagine how mom's going to feel after birth.

Given that we only really had 30 minutes - 2 hours maximum every cycle to wash everything, feed ourselves, wash ourselves, and sleep, the only way to survive was to cut corners. And the pressure to sleep on cue, eat on cue and pee on cue resulted in me loosing more sleep, eating less, and being too lost to remember to drink water.

Six weeks
The one consistency that seemed to pop up across medical advice, Google, and frantic phone calls to our families was that everything seems to come together at six weeks.

Baby starts to smile around 6 weeks
Sleep patterns emerge around 6 weeks
Mom's pelvis is healed around 6 weeks
Baby's cramps ease around 6 weeks
Mom stops bleeding around 6 weeks

It doesn't seem imaginable, but here we are at six weeks (which feels like forever) beginning sleep training with a smiling, cramp-less baby!

04 July 2013

My [Dutch] labour experience

Our little girl was born last week at a birthing centre in Amsterdam, and I just wanted to document my very positive Dutch birth experience while it's still fresh. Best of luck to all my friends who are delivering in the coming months! It's a baby boom!

The Dutch way
The Netherlands is all about natural childbirth, and ex-pats in Holland spread horror stories about pain relief being illegal, home births required by law unless there is a medical indication, and being given only paracetemol (tylenol) to women recovering from c-sections.

There is some truth to this, but these days expecting parents have more choices for their childbirth in The Netherlands than anywhere else in the world. The whole birthing process is lead by midwives, and you can choose to give birth at home, in a birthing centre, or in a hospital (though if there are no medical reasons for a hospital birth, you have to pay a hefty premium to your health insurer), if you've had a c-section, you can try to deliver "naturally" on future children (though only if it is deemed entirely safe), and there are choices for pain relief (though you must be in a birthing centre or a hospital, even for simple pain relief like laughing gas or remifentanil).

And, most importantly, in The Netherlands you get a trained "maternity care giver" -- think "professional mother" -- who comes to your house for 8-10 days after birth to train you with the Dutch system of raising babies.

Labour
I was one week late, my husband had just wrapped up all his projects at work, handed in his thesis proposal at school, and had his last class the day before. I had just finished the baby blanket and hat -- the last of my pre-baby maternity leave projects. We went for a date, dinner and a (very violent) movie, and came home to watch comedies to lighten the atmosphere.

Just as we were showering before bed, my contractions started around 2AM, were straight away 6-8 minutes apart, and almost immediately my water broke. There was clearly meconium in the water (which meant we had to go to the hospital), and the midwife came to our house to confirm this diagnosis.

I was quite relieved that we had a medical indication that forced us into a hospital birth. For months I had been making an ambiguous response to the question "Are you planning on having a home birth?" Natural childbirth at home just sounds so romantic, and is so valued in The Netherlands. Imagining candles, soft music, and an intense peacefulness in our loving home.

- Are you sure you want to be open to a home birth? There's a lot of blood and stuff. Which room / piece of furniture are you imagining giving birth on?
- Yah, I feel like I'd be more comfortable in a hospital, but we also live on the fourth floor in a building with steep stairs and no lift. Do you want to carry me downstairs in full labour? Home birth may seem like a really good option then.

The midwife made all the arrangements with the birthing centre attached to the Saint Lucas Andreas hospital in Amsterdam, and drove us there. It was such a smooth process, timing our movements between my contractions. When we arrived at the hospital, we just walked straight through into our private room, no hassles, no paperwork, no waiting. The birthing centre rooms are spacious, you have your own bathroom with shower, bath, and toilet.

My husband managed communication with the midwives, students, and nurses, and I managed my pain. My tactic to withstand the contractions was that he would pinch both of my Achilles tendons (an acupressure technique recommended by a work colleague), and I would focus on that pain and my breathing. This really kept me in "the zone", and enabled me to keep it together (I only had to ask my husband once to "Please stop talking" -- use of the word "please" constitutes "keeping it together" in my books). I spent most of my labour laying on my side with a big pillow between my knees, enjoying the spaces between the contractions as much as possible. I probably should have moved around more to speed up my contractions, but I was far too content laying on my side.

Almost immediately they ran tests to make sure the baby was not in distress (though I was never doubted it, I just knew the baby was fine), and after a short time we had the results: we were not in the unlucky 10% of cases where meconium is a serious indication, our baby was in great condition.

After about 5 hours of labour, I was nearing dilation but my contractions were still only 5 minutes apart. They explained that it was important my contractions were a minimum of 2 minutes apart before we could push the baby through the birth canal, because if something were wrong 5 minutes was too long to wait between pushes. They gave me oxytocin to speed up the contractions, at which point I also requested remifentanil -- with all the tubes and elastic bands I was hooked up to, it was one more that would actually make me feel good! I didn't find that the remifentanil did anything to lessen the intensity of the contractions, but they made the spaces between contractions even more enjoyable.

- Are you sure you would like remifentanil?
- I wouldn't be asking for it unless I was at my wit's end. Yes.
- Can you wait 10 minutes and then decide if you would like it?
- It will take you 10 minutes to set it up, so no, I don't want to wait an additional 10 minutes.
- Wait 10 minutes, then press this red button and we will start you on remifentanil.
[9 minutes later...]
- Do you still want remifentanil?
- I wanted remifentanil 10 minutes ago...OF COURSE! YES!

After the labour was over and I had my little girl in my arms they asked me if I was glad that they made me wait 10 minutes. I was far too tired to deliver a collected and calculated response which somehow articulated the depth of my displeasure with them, that the unnecessary and non-medical postponement of remifentanil was the only major disappointment I had in my entire labour experience, and that it explicitly states in my birth plan that if I ask for pain relief, I am to be taken seriously with immediate action because I tend to push my body beyond its capabilities.

- No.

Once the contractions were every two minutes (and I was already involuntarily pushing during contractions), we started the pushing phase. After 5 minutes, they said I would need an episiotomy because the baby was showing signs of distress (but again, I was not worried about it). I didn't really feel anything, and then we resumed pushing and within about 5-10 minutes I had a beautiful slimy baby placed directly from my womb onto my chest.

Although I could feel everything (the remifentanil is only used for a short window before the pushing phase, and leaves your system within 4 minutes), I almost couldn't believe that this little creature on my chest was our baby. All I could see was this little head, which shielded the rest of her body from my sight.

We waited 15-30 minutes or so for pulsations to cease, and then my husband cut the umbilical chord. She breastfed within the hour, and as soon as I was stitched up, everyone cleared the room and left us alone with with our baby for two glorious hours -- she was alert, calm, and such a delight for us. A while later they came with food and champagne for us. Eventually they weighed the baby with my husband (the elation of birth started to be replaced by the exhaustion of labour, and I spent the rest of the day laying down), and we were released.

Maternity care
We walked out of the hospital 5 hours after our baby was born, and a maternity care giver (in Dutch, a "Kraamverzorgster") was at our house within an hour of arriving home to help us settle in. This is something which I think is exclusive to The Netherlands. All new parents and babies are cared for in your own home by a maternity nurse / care giver for the first 8-10 days of your baby's life. The maternity care givers provide daily checkups to the baby and mother, assist with breastfeeding, diapers, cook, clean, fetch groceries, let you sleep, shower, and provide daily (Dutch) parenting tips. 

24 hours of bliss
The first 24 hours, the baby doesn't really need to eat much, and it was such a blissful and joyful time for us to spend with our calm and happy baby before the feeding pressure started the next day.

11 June 2013

Always get pregnant in September

Most couples trying to conceive do not have much choice in the matter, but if you live in the Netherlands and can manage the conception date of your baby, I suggest always getting pregnant at the end of September:

1. In the Netherlands, woman must take maternity leave 4 weeks before their due date (but can take up to 6 weeks), and 12 weeks after their delivery day (or 10 weeks, if you've taken 6 weeks before your due date).

2. The Netherlands only has a few public holidays a year, and most of them fall in April / May. Check your calendar and see when the last public holiday in May is for the following year, add 4 weeks (maternity leave) to it to arrive at your ideal due date, and then count back 40 weeks to see when the first day of your last period should be.

This will optimise your chances of good weather + not losing any public holidays while on maternity leave. I was, sadly, one week too early and missed Pentecost this year.

Other great advice that I was given, and really worked for my pregnancy (but find the advice that works for you and your pregnancy):

1. Pregnancy is really long. Don't talk about it, think about it, or make decisions too early. It will go on forever.
2. Slow down, but don't stop. Once you stop doing something, you often can't pick it up again (I stopped jogging for 3 weeks halfway through my pregnancy, and couldn't jog after that again. But I did cycle throughout my pregnancy and am still very mobile on my bike 5 days before my due date). Being active has been so important to me in my pregnancy. However...
3. It's not necessarily all downhill. Every time I started getting cramps at night, or exhausted for a week, I thought to myself "This is it. This is how I am going to feel for the rest of my pregnancy." But actually I felt much more comfortable and was more active and mobile from 30-40 weeks than I was around 8 weeks, 22 weeks, and 36 weeks. But everyone's different.
4. Keep planning social activities right through your due date. Life must go on. Most women are late with their first child, and thinking beyond your due date will relieve the stress and pressure mounted on that day (and may also speed things up).
5. Get maternity clothes and a body pillow as soon as you start to feel uncomfortable -- don't wait. The body pillow can be used for nursing after baby is born, and you don't need to spend a lot of money to buy a few pairs of maternity trousers and some long shirts.
6. Find what works for you. It took half my pregnancy to figure out what I needed to make my pregnancy smooth. In my case, I really needed to micromanage my liquid consumption (drinking water all day did not come naturally for me), I needed to take iron, fiber, and magnesium every day for me, and just vitamin D for the baby (and folic acid for the first 12 weeks). And I ate sushi every week (for baby's brain development, and mummy's sanity).
7. Relaxed parents make relaxed baby. The only complications I had was when I was highly stressed at work leading up to my mid-pregnancy holiday in Italy.

Advice I didn't take, but wish I had:

8. Take a prenatal yoga or other course that encourages you to embrace your pregnancy. For at least 1 hour a week you can really take the time to enjoy being pregnant. I didn't really embrace my pregnancy, I only embraced my maternity leave.

05 June 2013

Wonderful idea. Wrong species.

I was thrilled when I found this list of quotes that was compiled for me by a British friend in Japan in 2002, as I was migrating data to my new computer today!

"We are here on earth to do good to others.  What the others are here for, I don't know."  W.H.Auden, poet.

"If dogs could talk, perhaps we would find it as hard to get along with them as we do with people."  Josef Capek, artist.

"Egotist: person of low taste, more interested in himself than in me."  Ambrose Bierce.

"An idea isn't responsible for the people who believe in it."  Don Marquis, journalist.

"Wonderful idea.  Wrong species."  E.O.
Wilson, naturalist and ant expert, on Marxism.

"A curious sport where the object is to put a very small ball in a very small hole with implements ill-designed for the purpose."
- Winston Churchill on golf

"If one regards oneself as a sceptic, it is as well from time to time to be sceptical about one's scepticism."   Freud, psychoanalist.

"It's good to do nothing and then rest."  Spanish proverb.

"Never interrupt your enemy while he is making a mistake."  Napoleon, Emperor of France.

"He who praises everybody, praises nobody."  Dr Johnson, writer.

"Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon."  Susan Ertz.

"Buy land.  They aren't making it any more."  Mark Twain, writer.

"When two people in business always agree, one of them is unnecessary."  William Wrigley Jr., businessman.

"A bore is a man who deprives you of solitude without providing you with company."  Gian Vincenzo Gravina.

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go."  Oscar Wilde, writer.

"Never confuse motion with action."  Benjamin Franklin, politician.

"I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with senses, reason and intellect has intended us to forego their use..."  Galileo

"Charm is the ability to make someone think that both of you are pretty wonderful."  Kathleen Winsor.

11 May 2012

Argentina & Brazil, February 2012

We had two criteria for our honeymoon: that it be somewhere neither of us had ever been; and that it be a warm break from a frosty February. We had fallen in love listening and dancing to music, and thought Argentina and Brazil -- the lands of tango, samba, and bossa nova -- would be the perfect place to spend our honeymoon. We planned on spending the first half of the trip dotting around Argentina, from Buenos Aires to Patagonia to Mendoza, and the second half taking our time and combing our way along a 1000 km strip of Brazil's coastline from Florianopolis to Rio de Janeiro.
  • Buenos Aires - 3 days
  • Patagonia - 5 days, El Calafate, Perito Moreno Glacier, El Chalten, Los Glaciares National Park
  • Mendoza - 3 days
  • [Florianopolis & deportation - 2 days]
  • Iguazu - 4 days
  • Ilha Grande - 3 days
  • Rio de Janeiro - 3 days
Our three week holiday was like six independent trips satiating all our senses. Six wildly different landscapes, different climates, a wide range of cuisines from Amazonian fruit to Patogonic lamb, and everywhere warm people and music. People were unexpectedly approachable and welcoming, and though my Spanish is out-of-practice, everyone was patient enough to let us try. We talked with people about warm but corrupt countries vs. cold but responsible societies, life in Europe, competition between Latin American countries, and how much beauty there was in the world (but especially in Brazil).

We maintained an adventurous and zealous attitude throughout our trip, delighting in everything around us, even when things went wrong. It was so nice to experience the magic of travel again, after having become a bit too comfortable and blaze about travel over the last few years. This trip renewed my travel bug, filled my belly, warmed my heart, and twinkled my eyes.

Buenos Aires, Argentina
We stayed in San Telmo, a quaint cobble-stone neighbourhood that is home to street Tango dancing and a big public market on weekends. Our lovely apartment was on a dark, too-quiet street, but inside it was an oasis of light and water. We had a lovely courtyard with a breakfast table next to a small fountain, and on the roof we had lots of sunshine and patio furniture from which to enjoy it. Sadly, we had to leave on Saturday afternoon though, and missed the street parties.

We spent most of our time in Buenos Aires walking around, from San Telmo, through the university campus, along the waterfront (a converted industrial area, but still with quite harsh edges and a lack of vitality except along the university campus), around the central shopping areas, around the museum, graveyard and park area, and through Palermo. Buenos Aires has beautiful old trees lining its smaller streets, and coupled with its decaying colonial buildings, it's undeniably charming. But, while you could tell that Buenos Aires should be a beautiful city, most of Buenos Aires seemed liked it had been cut up by security fences, construction fences, and traffic. The fine-grained intimate areas were criss-crossed with noisy impenetrable boulevards, some of which seemed to be around 75 m in width, and there weren't many places to sit and take in the city.

The exception was Palermo. Palermo had a great quality of life, and each of its three sub-districts have their own character. We spent our time in Palermo sipping drinks on carefully-decorated roof terasses, each with its own design, shopping at boutique stores that each had their own quirky elaborate entrances or gardens out back. A street tree dressed in a knitted skirt around the length of its trunk, residents sitting on lawn chairs in the middle of the street, the "best steakhouse in Argentina", everyone beautiful and creative.

Patagonia, Argentina
Not only is Patagonia really far away from the rest of Argentina (3 days by car from Buenos Aires alone), it's also enormous once you get there. With some of the most dramatic, tempermental weather in the world. We decided to fly and rent a car for the best combination of convenience and freedom, and decided that with 5 days El Calafate and El Chalten were our best bets for sights.

El Calafate is a very tacky tourist town. The kind of tourist town where people are trying too hard to over-compensate with authenticity and "character", resulting in a mis-match of buldings carved out of narly tree branches, hung with indigenous art from Australia. Mostly El Chalten is an airport and bus station and a big super market, one hour's drive from a remarkable glacier and within a reasonable drive to a great National Park. We stayed long enough to rent some tents and sleeping bags, buy some groceries, get our bearings, and eat Patagonic lamb atop a cliff with a view of the lake.

Perito Moreno Glacier was very impressive though. As a Canadian, I felt like you could see comparable sites to Patagonia in the Canadian Rockies, but with much more wildlife in the Rockies. But I don't think we have anything in Canada that compares to P. Moreno Glacier. It's a glacier funelling into a L-shaped lake, and the result is an impressive ice wall many km long, many km wide, and many metres high. Every few years there is enough ice to totally separate the two sides of the lake (such as this winter while we were there), and when the ice starts to retreat and the lake water pressures on, it can create an massive breach which is well-worth seeing (but occured a few days after we left!). We took a boat to ride (a safe distance) along the towering ice wall of the glacier, and then wore clamp-ons and walked on some smooth parts of the glacier. A bit touristy? But to go all that way and only spend an hour watching the glacier seemed more wrong, and who could object to a boat ride? And our guide was a really interesting experimental musician who rewarded us with whiskey.

After a beautiful drive through dramatic, wind-scorched landscapes, we arrived in El Chalten the next day and decided to pop into Los Glaciares National Park's Information Centre because we couldn't find the road to the camp ground.

- Excuse me, where can we find the entrance to this road that leads to the base camp?
- Well, you park your car here, pack all of your gear and it's a 10 KM hike to the base camp, where you stay over night, then it's another 10KM hike to the next base camp, where you spend the second night, and then on the third day you climb to see Fitz Roy, but it's been covered in cloud all week.
- Ha ha ha. No seriously, where's the road to the base camp? We don't have bags or hiking shoes.

She was unimpressed. And she was out of trail maps.

We took a picture of the trail map on the wall, put on every sweater, touque, long-sleeved shirt, and pair of socks we could find, and packed up all the light food we had bought in El Calafate. Sorry Patagonic beer and Mendozan wine, you'll have to wait for our return.

The trail was not too difficult, but the weather was changing constantly. While you were walking uphill, you would get down to a T-shirt with blue skies overhead, but as you crested the pass you would freeze and see the dark dark clouds up ahead. It was like walking into certain hypothermia, with our hopes of seeing Fitz Roy dwindling the closer we got. And we looked so foolish with our improvised backpacks and sneakers compared to the hard core trekkers head-to-toe in their hard core trekking outfits, complete with hiking poles.

We spent the first evening at the base camp to Cerro Torre. Though the wind was strong enough to lift me, somehow it was not strong enough to lift the clouds. We recorded a happy birthday message for my wonderful mother over a dinner we cooked inside our tent, and fell asleep shivering, listening to the howling of the wind.

The next day we set off for Fitz Roy, again following the dark clouds. By the time we arrived at Fitz Roy's campsite, there was still no sign that the clouds would part. As we took a nap to warm up in our tent, we overheard that a man had just left after spending 3 days at the base camp hoping to see Fitz Roy. We woke up from our nap and decided to just make the climb, regardless. After recruiting another ill-prepared Canadian in sneakers, we climbed the final 1-hour ascent just in time to see Fitz Roy reveal itself.

What a sight. The face of the peak looked like a sheet of gold, the sky and lake were crystal blue, the landscape green from the glacial water. It was one of those views that could knock you off your feet, and is even more special because of 2 days of anticipation and sore bodies.

Mendoza, Argentina
Our flights were delayed en route to dry, hot Mendoza, and we never seemed to recover from this bad timing. We missed the tasting at the restaurant in town by one hour, due to misinformation. We missed the entrance to the winery we most wanted to visit by 5 minutes due to poor planning. We ate too late and our food took too long and we missed the rest of the wineries. We missed the meat festival in the park because we were too early. It was strange. I remember this famous wine country most for the best steak I ever had!

Florianopolis, Brazil
Canadians cannot get visas at the airport for Brazil, contrary to what we understood, and the airline forgot to check us because we began our journey in Mendoza. Our week of surfing on an island would have to wait. We were under pseudo-arrest while the very nice Brazilian customs officials battled the airline. There was no doubt that I had to go back to Buenos Aires, but they were fighting to also make the airline return my Dutch husband with me. Every few hours we would get an update.

"This man is not helpful, we are calling his boss."
"It might take some time to get a visa because it's Carnaval and the embassy is closed."
"This is your honeymoon? Okay we will make sure you stay together."
"Now we are phoning the CEO of the airline."
"I have a plan, we can deport your husband. It's in the Brazillian constitution that family is the most important and that we must keep families together."

Once we were finally deported (took about 4 hours), the real red carpet treatment began!

While all the other passengers had to wait at the crowded gate, we were escorted by security personel onto the empty plane, with my passport being kept by the pilot. When we landed, all the other passengers de-planed while a special security force was sent to pick us up. We had phone numbers from the pilot and cabin crew for when we would finally be able to return to Brazil, and were escorted all the way to the visa desk by special security.

Iguazu, Argentina
Rather than spend four more days in Buenos Aires, we were convinced by a good friend of mine who spent 6 years evading Brazilian customs officials to go to Iguazu for a change of scenery. Iguazu is very tropical, and completely different than anything we had seen elsewhere in Argentina. Buenos Aires was like a beautiful Autumn, Patagonia was a dramatic winter, Mendoza was a dry hot summer, and Iguazu was like living in a jungle. With my papers dropped off at the consulate, it was time to see the famous falls.

We hadn't planned on going to Iguazu, mostly because both of us had already experienced Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, and how many great waterfalls does one need to see in their lifetimes? But Iguazu was a totally different experience. Like Vic Falls, the falls are very long -- at least a kilometre in length -- and you never can see the whole thing in one frame. You can experience the falls from the top, at a section of the falls where it almost seems like you've reached the end of the world. You can experience the falls from underneath, and even swim around an island at the centre of the falls. And you can see the falls alongside them. It was so great we went back for a second day to swim in a distant off-shoot of the falls.

Ilha Grande
With my visa in hand, we crossed the border and hoped that there was no record of being deported in my husband's passport. A few days earlier, I had started to really suffer from some inflamed bug bites which only air conditioning could sooth, and I hoped that long-distance buses in Brazil were as comfortable as those in Argentina. They were not, and in fact it turned out we hadn't paid for a long distance bus! We had paid for a car, a bus, a long wait at a bus station, and then still had to pay for a local bus and ferry ride. Every 4 hours I had to wash the calamine lotion off my body with wet wipes, and re-apply it to the 55 swollen bug bites I now had all over my body.

But it was all worth it. Thirty-seven hours later we found ourselves in an island paradise! No cars, no pavement, just sand, surf, snorkelling, drinking, eating, and arriving everywhere by boat. We ate some seriously amazing meals in Argentina, but we just kept going back to this restaurant along Ilha Grande's beach where all the chairs faced the water, and the food had an impressive number of accolades (we learnt later). My favourite was the crab pastry and the passion fruit caipirinha.

My husband had been patiently waiting to surf the entire trip. Even atop freezing Fitz Roy he had talked about how excited he was to surf. The cancellation of our trip to Floripa was a major blow to his Brazilian surfing dreams, but Ilha Grande did not disappoint. The surfing beach on the other side of the island was brilliant -- the waves weren't very big, but you didn't have to do anything to catch them. Normally when you surf, you spend most of your energy swimming against the tide, then treading water while you wait for waves. On Ilha Grande's Praya Mendes you could walk out to the waves, stand on the bottom, and then just jump up onto your board and be whisked to shore.

Rio de Janeiro
Rio seems to be a city with everything. The city centre of Rio is basically all the buildable land between beautiful mountains and stunning beaches, often just three blocks thick. You can stand atop several different peaks, each with its own unique view of the city, or you can stand on a world-class beach and look up at the characteristic mountain peaks. It's the birthplace of samba, and my favourite, bossa nova. It has great food, such as churrascaria (all-you-can-eat meat restaurants), but also a wide availability of fruits and berries from all over the country, including our favourite Amazonian fruit drink, made of açaí. Rio even has a tropical rain forest national park in its centre.

Along with its obvious natural assets, Rio has some urban quirks, such as the charming neighbourhood of Santa Teresa that clings onto the side of the mountain with its winding roads, picturesque courtyards, and colourful buildings. And who doesn't love a city where men in nothing but speedos and sneakers walk alongside men in suits through streets lined with skyscrapers?

Conclusions
In the end, we didn't get to spend the second half of our trip making our way along the coast (due to visa issues), but we didn't feel like we had missed anything either. The pace was just right -- slow enough to have a satisfying taste of each place we visited, but fast enough to keep an exciting momentum and diversity to the trip. We were so busy enjoying ourselves that we didn't realise until we had left that we had actually missed some pretty core activities. We heard a lot of music around us over the trip, and we did manage to go to a samba social club in Rio, but we never actually saw live tango or danced!

(But then it's always a good idea to leave some important things to do "next time".)

10 May 2012

Customer non-service

I feel like such an expat housewife whining about customer service in another country, but this was a truly amazing conversation I had today with a certain credit card company.

- Hello, I'm looking to purchase a new credit card and saw your Panda card online. It says that by purchasing the card I will "automatically support the World Wildlife Fund", but it doesn't say how?
- And what is your question?
- How does my purchase support the World Wildlife Fund?
- [Silence]
- For example, do 1% of my purchases go towards the WWF? Or does all of my annual membership fee go to the WWF?
- Oh, let me check.
- Do you never get asked this question? Your website is very vague and un-transparent. I thought lots of people must phone you to ask how their money is going to the WWF.
- Okay, I checked and it says that a fixed sum is donated every year to WWF, but it says that the credit card company and WWF have agreed not to publicize the amount.
- That's very un-assuring. Is the fixed sum at least determined based on the number of cards sold?
- Yes! Oh wait, no!
- But then I don't know how my choices as a consumer are leading to raising funds for the WWF.
- I'm sorry, this is really terrible isn't it?
- [Me laughing]
- Why don't you choose the green card instead?
- Sure, what makes the card green?
- Um...let me check...[pause]...The card makes your purchases green!
- But how? Do they invest in carbon offsetting? And if so, how do they determine the carbon footprint of my purchases? And what type of offsetting projects do they fund?
- I don't know! But here's a phone number I just found for the company.
- Aren't you the company?
- Yes, but there's another company that knows why it's "green". Let me just transfer you please...
- Thank you for your help, please transfer me.
- [Ringing, ringing, ringing]
- Um, let me try another number.
- [Ringing, ringing, ringing]

Eventually I hung up because, as with all consumer and government phone lines, I was being charged 0.10 / per minute for this phone call by the company, and 0.10 / per minute by my mobile phone company as service costs for billing the other company, plus my regular minutes.

27 March 2011

The joys of living in a "charming" [dilapidated], "historical" [old] Amsterdam [small] flat


We love our cozy home in the Jordaan.
Having grown up on the west coast of North America, I am so happy to live in a place built before the 1970s, in a neighbourhood where bikes out-number people, and dogs out-number cars.  When people visit us, they are immediately struck by the charm and character of our humble abode, and we are the envy of our neighbours for having windows on all sides, a skylight, and a [however inaccessible] roof terasse.

The Jordaan is an enchanting neighbourhood in the west part of Amsterdam Centrum that hosts two markets -- a farmer's market 15m from our doorstep every Saturday, and a vintage and organics market 100m from our doorstep every Saturday and Monday.  Every block has either a gallery or a cafe/bar, or both, and we are surrounded by canals on all sides.  Apartments in this neighbourhood are considered small, even by Amsterdam standards, but with the Jordaan as your living room, it's still one of the best places to live in the city.

When we first moved into our new home, the usual repairs and upgrades were required.  Some paint, a ledge for the windowsills, some flooring in the closet, nothing that seemed too out of the ordinary.  Since then, at exponentially increasing intervals, our home has become a source of entertainment for our friends who have been following our drama.

This weekend I came home at 5:30AM on a flight from Abu Dhabi to an email from our downstairs neighbour telling us that the re-occurring leak coming from our toilet and leak coming from our washing machine are back.  Then Reinier woke up and greeted me with a kiss and "oh, and if you use the washroom, don't close the door.  It fell off and I just re-glued it".  And then a few hours later while cooking lunch, "oh no!  Esmerelda ate the rest of our basil plant."  And there was a letter on the table from the internet company saying they owe us 0.20 euros.

To truly appreciate the humour in all of this, an explanation of the past year and a half of our cascading apartment pains must be documented.  Here is my attempt:

October 2009 - move in, painting, windowsill, closet floors, install washing machine.  Do not repair all the random holes in the walls, pipes sticking out of the floor, and what I can only describe as the corner of "ooze" [hole with insulation sticking out of it].

November 2009 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes is defective.  Contractor does not have a mobile phone, and our flat does not have a doorbell, so it takes several attempts for the contractor to finally install a new valve.

February 2010 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again.  First appearance of a mouse in the house.  We name her "Esmerelda", and do not see her again for several months.

April 2010 - we apply for internet.

May 2010 - arrival of furniture from Abu Dhabi, and covering up of holes with pictures, chairs,  paintings, and plants.  After many follow-up phone calls, internet company finally tells us that the source of our problem is that our apartment doesn't exist.  Insisting that our apartment does indeed exist, it takes 8 weeks and 3 house visits for the internet to finally realise our apartment is not fitted for telecommunications, and that it will be impossible for us to have internet.  But in the meantime, they send us a box with a router and TV box.

June 2010 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again.  New neighbour moves into apartment immediately below us.  We cancel our internet, and wait for 2 weeks for them to send a new box for us to return the router, etc. in [despite having retained the old box, just in case this might happen].  Finally they send the boxes, we re-package the items, and send them back to the internet company.  Our new downstairs neighbour applies for internet.

July 2010 - we receive a note from debt collectors saying that we owe the internet company for the items we had shipped back to them.  We produce the postage receipts proving that they were sent back, and that we are not culpable.  We find evidence that Esmerelda seems to be using one of our favourite plants to store food for the winter.

August 2010 - we receive another notice from the debt collector, and spend hours on the phone with the internet company trying to resolve the situation.  Finally the internet company sorts it out, and the debt collectors [supposedly] clear our records.  New neighbour [who also had drama with the internet company] finally gets internet and we share the connection.  We begin to see several Esmereldas.

September 2010 - new downstairs neighbour notices closet and all of its contents are wet due to leak originating from our apartment.  Valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again. After a total of 5 Esmerelda captures over the summer, the Esmerelda situation peaks while my sister is visiting.  She has great advice on dealing with Esmereldas, and with the help of some wood to plug up holes, and a device that emits a sound that only rodents can hear, our Esmerelda situation is back under control.  We begin receiving monthly notices from the internet company that they owe us 20 euro cents.

October 2010 - our lease is renewed.  The only thing worse than living in a semi-dilapidated apartment is sifting through dozens of even more dilapidated apartments for months in search of one functional apartment which you cannot afford.

November 2010 - new neighbour notices the ceiling in his bathroom is becoming discoloured, and alerts us that there is another leak.

December 2010 - after being ignored by the contractor for weeks, we experiment and figure out that it is the toilet and not the washing machine this time.

January 2011 - contractor finally comes visit, tells us it is indeed the toilet, and says he will come back with a plumber.  City workers repairing the streets cut off all electricity on the block for 1 day, two weeks in a row while I am working from home and hosting a sick guest.  In an unrelated incident the same week, our heating stops working and it takes the contractor 3 days [and 3 freezing nights] to fix it [i.e. no heat, no hot water, for 3 days in January, and me waiting at home for the contractor to not show up, because he doesn't have a mobile phone to ring me if I leave the house].  Lia complains that we are not building managers, that endless phone calls to the wife of the contractor because he does not have a mobile phone and waiting at home for hours because we do not have a doorbell constitutes "management", and that "managers" are well-paid because following-up with people is tedious work.  Landlord pays no attention.  We begin house hunt.

February 2011 - contractor finally manages to "fix" the toilet, but leaves a gaping hole in our bathroom for 3 weeks to verify with our neighbour that it is indeed fixed before he patches up the whole wall with plaster.  All power goes out one day at noon in our whole flat [including hot water and heat], contractor comes with electrician to discover that the source of the problem is the electrical installation in the flat 3 floors below us.  This is magically fixed the same day it happened!

March 2011 - the washing machine valve breaks again, and a "definitive" solution is reached with the contractor -- yet another hole is made into our bedroom wall, and yet another pipe is attached to one of the pipes that was sticking out of the floor.  Reinier silently wonders if that pipe actually runs anywhere, but figures the contractor knows what he's doing.  The contractor patches up the hole in our bathroom after 3 weeks of dry ceilings for our downstairs neighbours, and we haven't seen Esmerelda in months.  An architect friends visits us, looks out our bedroom window to the neighbour's roof terasse that abuts our bedroom and says "that's illegal", turns and looks out the other window of our bedroom that abuts the other neighbour's staircase and says "that's also illegal".  We reach a final agreement on a flat just up our street which is not much bigger than our current place, but it's "new".  I go on a business trip to Abu Dhabi, and return to a leaking toilet, leaking washing machine valve, broken bathroom door (in an apartment with windows on all sides), notice from the internet company, and evidence that Esmerelda is back.

When we began our housing search, my criteria was: bright, at least 60 square metres, and older than the 1970s [if we wanted to live in a crappy 1970s building, we'd go back home to Vancouver!].  Reinier's sole criterium was "not requiring any repairs".

In the end, we've settled on a home from 1986, which is 58 square metres, and not very bright.  But it's in perfect condition, and if anything goes wrong it as least has a doorbell.

29 January 2011

Happiness is hard work


I love seasons.  I spent 4 years on the equator, and it really reinforced in me that the temperate world is the most climatically variant.  The same place feels like 4 different places in just one year, and there is a constant sense of urgency to get the most out of the limited time you have to enjoy each season.

People behave differently in each season.  Spring is the rebirth -- the party -- when everyone sheds their winter layers, drag their couches downstairs and plop them down in the first sliver of sunshine they can find.  Summer is counter-routine -- school's out, friends are on holidays, you meet a lot of new people, and on a regular Tuesday afternoon, the park is filled with people who are supposed to be at work.  Autumn is the reset button, when everything settles back down, a routine is re-established, and you are reminded of the finite-ness of one's day.  Winter is the time to hibernate, drink hot alcoholic liquids, and enjoy a whole new range of outdoor activities.

This is my first winter in 5 years, and after a heavenly Christmas at home, I returned to Amsterdam smack in the middle of the most depressing time of year in the temperate world: 3rd week of January until 3rd week of February.  Tis the season of whiners, and I couldn't afford to listen.  Our toilet was still broken, the city workers shut off our electricity twice in two weeks due to road maintenance, we had no heat or hot water for 3 days and 3 freezing nights, and I was still waiting for clients to finalise contracts.  I had landed in Amsterdam after a restful Christmas with lots of momentum, and felt like I was facing opposition in all directions.  And everyone seemed to feel the same way.

We have to remember that this isn't Amsterdam's fault.  Everywhere sucks in January.  But suddenly all those Dutch quirks weren't cute any more.  They were painful.  It's like paying first world prices for third world services.  But Canada sucks right now too.  Remember that.  It's just January.  Christmas and New Year are over, and the next national holiday isn't until Easter.  Happiness and healthiness is hard work at this time of year -- eat right, exercise, maintain connections with people, avoid whining and whiners, and get some artificial sunshine if you have to!

And then I remembered another Dutch quirk at this dark time of year: Carneval.  Carneval is like a much more appropriately-placed Hallowe'en, held in the bleak mid-winter rather than in the sea of celebrations that is Thanksgiving-New Year.  A taste of spring indulgence to get you through the worst and final spat of winter bereavement.

20 September 2010

Amsterdam, the Honeymoon

My first half a year in Amsterdam.
In the DFAIT Intercultural Effectiveness course that I took before I went to Ghana, the instructor described the "Stages of Cultural Adaptation".  The pre-departure jitters --> the honeymoon phase --> culture shock --> adaptation --> re-entry shock.  The duration of each stage depends on the individual and the experience -- in my 6 month post in Ghana, the honeymoon lasted about 3 weeks, culture shock about 3 weeks, then adaptation for about 5 months interspersed with mild honeymoon/culture shock blips.

[borrowed from http://www.expatmumsblog.com]

When I moved from Abu Dhabi to Amsterdam my pre-departure jitters were virtually non-existent because it took me over a year to move here -- normally I give myself about 2 weeks notice before I move to a new country.  And remarkably, I seem to have remained in the honeymoon stage for the past five months here.  I have characterised this post-Abu Dhabi interstitial period as:
"Mini retirement"
"Sabbatical"
"Intermission"

And have used the following job titles:
"Kept woman"
"Home economist"
"Lady who lunches with ladies who lunch"
And my favourite, courtesy of Patricia:  "You're not unemployed, you're a 'freelancer'"

After leaving Abu Dhabi, I had given myself a month and a half in Canada to refuel so that I was ready for the job hunt as soon as I settled in Amsterdam.  But I quickly learnt that Amsterdam in May is not a place for professional ambitions, it is much better suited for leisurely self-indulgence.
"You know, when I first moved to Amsterdam, I was really expecting to land running, but it has surprised me how long it took me to get on my feet here."
"I know, everyone I've met here is an unemployed ex-pat partnered with a Dutch person, who was a professional-over-achiever until they landed in Amsterdam."
"Exactly, no one is expected to do anything their first six months."
"But even if I tried to do 'nothing', I just can't be idle.  My natural default is hectic productiveness, and I always have a lot of to show for my time.  I don't expect Amsterdam to be any different."

Five months after saying that, I do have a lot to show for my first six months post-Abu Dhabi, but not the sort of stuff I had initially meant.  Instead, Amsterdam taught me a lesson in leisure this summer:

Public Holidays.  With Queen's Day as the opener, May is the month of public holidays in the Netherlands.  Queen's Day was a lively inauguration into Dutch street festivities, followed by Remembrance Day, Liberty Day, Ascension Day...and the list continues.  By the time June had begun, most people had forgotten what it's like to work a five-day week!

Queen's Day, Amsterdam, borrowed from www.iamsterdam.com.
World Cup.  My biggest piece of advice to people thinking about leaving Abu Dhabi is to leave in April. This way you benefit from the best time of year in Abu Dhabi (October-March) -and- the best time of year in the temperate world (May-October).  But even with a year to plan my entry into the Netherlands, I can't take credit for landing in Amsterdam just in time for the Oranje to go all the way to the final (and for Ghana to make the quarter final!!  Go Black Stars!). "You wouldn't believe how crazy it is here.  I am woken at 9AM on game days to people cheering and howling, everyone is dressed head-to-toe in orange, and all the offices close for the day.  I can only imagine the atmosphere in South Africa?"
"No one here has gone to the office since the World Cup began."

120,000 people at Museumplein for the World Cup Final, borrowed from www.mobypicture.com.
Fitting in.  Once my belongings from Abu Dhabi actually arrived 3 months after they were packed, it was a full time job for a month just trying to make the place functional.
"What's your schedule this week?"
"I'm fitting my 1200 sf apartment in Abu Dhabi into our 400 sf apartment in Amsterdam.  All week."

Art.  Art is everywhere in Amsterdam, and it's not something reserved for an artistic elite -- it's children's playgrounds, people singing on their bikes, temporary train station installations, overhead lamps, and random street characters.  A week doesn't pass by where I haven't seen a group of people dressed in costume break out into song.

Visitors.  I finally live in a city that is both central and desirable to visit, and whether it was a quick beer during a layover, or a week of hosting houseguests, we had a summer filled with reunions and good company.  Literally every week since I moved here, we have either been out-of-town, or someone has been visiting, and it has been a fantastic way to transition into life here, surrounded by familiar faces.

Cooking.  I've never been the primary chef in the household, nor do I ever plan on becoming one, but I've had fun learning how to cook and buy groceries this summer.  We have a farmer's market 50m from our doorstep every Saturday and a vintage market 100m away every Monday.  We invented a fantastic salad with goat's cheese, the crusty bits on top of fattoush, pasta, strawberries, and chicken; I learnt how to make stuffed butternut squash; Reinier learnt how to make cepelinai (Lithuanian mega-perogies); and I remembered how to make some of my old faves such as okonomikyaki, stir fry udon, and poor man's sushi.

Couples.  One of the biggest adjustments for me has been living in a coupled world.  Everyone in Amsterdam lives with their partner, usually expat female + Dutch male.  I don't think Dutch people marry Dutch people anymore.

Modes of Transportation.  Amsterdam has some very creative ways of getting around, including the beer bike, the penis bike taxi, the luge bicycle, and the disabled guy who pops a wheeley through crowded squares.

Beer Bike, with fully functional taps, borrowed from conortje.wordpress.com.
Festivals.  There are hundreds of festivals held in Amsterdam, and most of them occur between May and September.  "You want us to come to Liverpool for the Matthew Street Festival at the end of August?  I might actually tire of free outdoor music and beer by then."

Trips.  We found ourselves saying an enthusiastic "Yes!" to every travel opportunity that landed at our doorstep this summer.  And since we never know how long we'll be living in Europe, we felt it was the responsible thing to do.  Mountain biking, camping, family, building sand forts, sailing, yachting, reunions...a special thanks to my family in Lithuania for being such outstanding hosts, as always!

By September I was actually looking forward to the transition from summer bedlam into autumn order.  As the leaves begin to brown, this week I also started Dutch courses and working part-time setting up a Dutch Waterfront Centre and Network, and next week I start working a second part-time job.

It's been 5 years since I spent a winter in the temperate north, I can sense that the honeymoon is about to end at the same rate as the winter sets in.

11 August 2010

Trips - Ethiopia




This fall, I'm hoping to have the chance to start documenting some of the places I've been over the past few years.  Here are some notes on my trip to Ethiopia in December 2008, and please check Mikey's version as well if you're planning a trip to Ethiopia soon.

Addis Ababa - the modern-day capital of Ethiopia, the location of the African Union. Go to the National Tourism Organisation (NTO) and have them organise your whole trip around the country. Not only are they highly competent and affordable, their guides are well-educated, and they employ local guides from villages to tour you around each site, creating local capacity.

Rock-hewn Churches - 12th Century Ethiopian Christian church, The Church of St. Mary is carved out of limestone and exhibits a distinctly Ethiopian Christian character. Unlike many other parts of Africa where Christianity was imported by Missionaries in the 19th Century, Ethiopia has its own orthodox faith, was the second country after Armenia to declare itself Christian, and includes its own array of black saints.
Nearby is an archaeological site with an informative 'museum' that illustrates the anthropoligal history of our species.

Bahir Dar - situated on Lake Tana, the source of the Blue Nile, Bahir Dar is an extraordinary collection of monasteries and other historical sites dating from the 16th and 17th centuries peppered amongst islands accessible via boat. Our tour guide, Adugnya, took us to hear traditional Ethiopian entertainment, and participated in many lively discussions about the current state of Ethiopia, and its democratic system.

Awash National Park - a wildlife viewing National Park with lots of birds, oryx and other bovines, but do not expect to see the big 5 like in South Africa and Kenya.

Not-to-be-missed next time!
- Gondar - the 17th century capital of Ethiopia with 44 churches.
- Lalibella - Ethiopia's 11 famous rock hewn churches, carved as crosses.
- Axum - the Holy City of Ethiopia, dating 2000 years back, including the tomb of kings and the parks of Stelae.

27 July 2010

Halas that sh#t.

Ex-pats and people who repeatedly travel to certain places often don't necessarily learn the local language to fluency, but instead slowly incorporate some of the local language into their own vernacular. Some words just don't quite have the same flavour in your mother tongue -- how can you accurately translate "Inshallah" (officially meaning "if God wills it", but often meaning "No."), and "chez" (translates as "at the house of", but is so much more widely applicable and faster than English terms).

Here are some words that I have encountered in the vernacular of ex-pat communities around the world:

Scotland -
"Id-nay" (literally means "isn't it so?")
"Neeps" ("turnips")
"Tatties" ("potatoes")

Japan
"Gambateh!" (three syllables that collectively mean: "work hard"; "nose to the grindstone"; "good luck")
"Dai-jo-bu" (meaning "no problem", but not as casual and much more fun to say)
"Five-man" (a combination of "five" in English, and "man" meaning ten thousand, used constantly when dealing with Japanese currency)

Montreal -
"What day are we?" (Anglo-Montrealers won't actually believe you when you tell them this is not real English)

Turkey -
"Ghetto tea boys" (meaning the young men with brown teeth who spend all day drinking tea and staring at passing women, not to be confused with "tea boys" in the UAE, who are the men who serve tea)
"Brown Cricket Problem" (meaning cockroaches)

Ghana -
"Sista" (literally means "sister", but can be applied to any female, including strangers)
"Cha-lee" (literally means "Charlie", but can be applied to any male who is a friend)
"Bra" (literally means "brother", but can be applied to any male, including strangers)
"You are not a serious man" (widely applicable, used whenever any man is incessantly bothering you)
"Obruni" (means "white person")
"Obibini" (means "black person")

UAE
"Maam-sir" (literally means "madam or sir, whichever you are", and is used by virtually all south and southeast Asian service staff to greet people)
"Same same" (literally means "they are the same", but usually implies "same same, but different", used by virtually all south and southeast Asian service staff)
"Halas that sh_t" (no exact translation possible, western ex-pat expression that combines "halas" [done, stop, enough, cease] with English slang)

Netherlands
"Beer-tche" (spelt "beertje" in Dutch, literally means diminutive beer, or small beer)
"Gezellig" (fantastic Dutch word meaning "good vibes", "friendly atmosphere", "positive ambiance")

The Benefits of Being Not Married.

- I hear that you are leaving us.
- Yes, I'm moving to the Netherlands.
- So you two are finally getting married?
- No, there's no need. I can immigrate as a "partner".
- But then where is it written that he must provide you with a comfortable home? And what allowances you'll have? And what he has to provide for you to go home to visit your family?
- Well western marriages are really wishy-washy about those sorts of things anyways. All we do in western marriages is vow to love, honour, and cherish each other.
- Really? But that doesn't mean anything. Where are your guarantees? Where is your contract?
- All a western marriage contract says is that you have exchanged your vows in front of witnesses and that you are now married.
- Where are the vows written? How can you verify that they have been met?
- Umm. They're not listed in the contract, it's only mentioned that there were vows exchanged. I think it's the act of saying them in front of your friends and family that makes you accountable to them.
- Speaking them in front of people? But what are the grounds for divorce if the contract is so ambiguous and undocumented? What is the guarantee that your partner can afford to be married?
- Well, for my immigration purposes my partner has to take responsibility for me financially and legally for 5 years as my guarantor, and has to prove his income and employment and status as a citizen. But as far as I know, in a marriage there are no such requirements.

In a country where business runs on word rather than contracts, where million dollar deals are made on handshakes alone, and multinational companies risk everything on their relationships with just a few key clients, the attitude in the Emirates towards marriage is quite different. I was generally met with complete shock by my Arab colleagues in Abu Dhbai when they learnt that I was relocating to the Netherlands without any marital "guarantees".

The attitude in the Netherlands seems quite different towards marriage. Everyone in the Netherlands seems to be partnered with someone from abroad -- there are no Dutch people married to Dutch people in Amsterdam. And even for the ex-pats, it's much easier to immigrate as a partner than as a wife/husband!

- It was such a nightmare doing the paperwork to immigrate here.
- Really? My whole immigration process took a total of 3 days, and then I received my papers less than two weeks later.
- We got married in Canada, and so we had to apply for a long form marriage certificate, and then that needed to be sent to the Canadian Department of Foreign Affairs to be stamped, and then they had to send it to the Dutch Embassy in Ottawa to be legalised, and only then was it an acceptable document to the Dutch Immigration Authorities. It took months!
- You should have gotten not married instead. It's much faster.
- How do you do that?
- On Monday you go to the Canadian Embassy in the Hague and get certificates saying that you are not married. On Tuesday you register at the City Hall as "co-habitators running a joint household", and then on Wednesday you go to the Dutch Immigration Office and sign a paper saying that you're "partners". It only takes 3 days, rather than 3 months.
- But don't you have to prove your relationship? Or be living together for more than 6 months?
- We had every boarding pass from trips together and visiting each other over the past 2 years, and plenty of other documentation. They never asked to see it. And on the form it only stated that we had been officially co-locating for 3 days.

The best part is that when we went to the Canadian Embassy to fetch certificates saying that we were not married, the women who presented them to us said "Congratulations!".

- Um. Thanks?
- Good luck to the two of you then.

Had she just congratulated us on being not married? She must have recently divorced, or be someone who is against marriage. Then it was explained to me that Canadians who get married in the Netherlands must apply for the same certificate of being "not married" first, so it's more likely that she was being presumptuous rather than supporting our not married status. In any case, we went out for drinks to celebrate the completion of my immigration process, and the benefits of being not married.

26 July 2010

Brilliant Quotes of the Noughties [2000-2009].


Sometimes friends bantering can quickly spiral into pure genius. Here are just a few quotes I remembered recently, which may or may not be funny to anyone else:

“But our dwarves have magical powers.”
- Nunoo, on the difference between ‘real dwarves’ in Ghana, and the ‘mythical dwarves’ found in folkloric tales such as The Lord of the Rings. Ghana, 2006.

“Unless that hamburger has alpaca or guinea pig in it, I’m not interested!”
Sarah, responding to the waiter’s dinner suggestion after delaying her much anticipating first Incan meal of either alpaca or guinea pig by 3 days due to altitude sickness. Peru, 2006.

“It’s all in your outlook: sure you’re being cheated, but you’re being cheated in the sun!”
- [Translation] Hostel bartender, on why I should go to Morocco, and to this day the best travel advice I have ever received. France, 2002.

“It gets rid of the goatiness”
- Maura, on using lemon rind to mask the ‘goatie’ flavour of goat’s cheese, coining the term ‘goatiness’ forever. Canada, 2001.

“I was seriously disappointed by the lack of llamas”
Sarah, on her first impressions of Machu Picchu. Peru, 2006.

“And that’s a historical fact.”
- Consultant_Tim, on all of the historical ‘facts’ we fabricated during our car ride across Jordan, collectively falsifying all of Jordanian [and Western Civilisation’s] history. Jordan, 2009.

“Is that funny, or am I just drunk?”
“I don’t know, I’m drunk.”
- Mikey and Me, on a particularly creative Abu Dhabi park job. UAE, 2009.

“I know – let’s make a Junction Triangle interpretive dance!”
- Dougie, on how to effectively present our revitalization plan for Toronto’s Junction Triangle. Canada, 2005.

“It’s irresponsible of you to have a heating bill of less than $600.”
- Toronto Landlord, on why he shouldn’t have to pay to insulate our house in order to reduce energy consumption and our heating bill costs. Canada, 2004.

“Alpacas have cuter faces.”
- Sarah, on her highly scientific method for distinguishing alpacas from llamas. Peru, 2006.

“You promised me Madeleine Albright, elephants, and Livingstone. I’m leaving!”
- Mikey, on his invented expectations of Ethiopia. Ethiopia, 2008.

“It’s f-ing brilliant. Just add water, instant community.”
- Me, on my first week of graduate school. Canada, 2004.

03 May 2010

The Silent Chapter.



After nearly three years living in the United Arab Emirates, I have finally bitten the bullet and left my cushy government job in Abu Dhabi to search for new opportunities in Amsterdam.

People have often asked me why I rarely wrote about my experiences in the UAE, compared to my endless emails exploring the Japanese psyche, my elaborate photo documentation from multiple stays in Europe, and my unquenchable excitment about Ghanaian people.

There are several reasons / excuses:

1. Professional learning curve -- unlike my other world adventures, my life in Abu Dhabi revolved around my exciting, but intense job. Most of my mental and emotional energy was poured into absorbing as much as I could of such an unparalleled professional opportunity.

2. Busy travel schedule -- living in the Middle east, there are dozens and dozens of [inexpensive] countries within a 3 hour flight radius, and several low-cost airlines to get me there. I took every opportunity I could to travel, on average leaving the country once a month. I was very fortunate to go to Yemen, Ethiopia, Oman, India X 3, Lebanon X 2, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, Jordan, Nepal, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Botswana, South Africa, and many other places, sometimes just as long weekends from Abu Dhabi. [I also had 40 work days of paid vacation per year, plus about 3 weeks of public holidays.]

3. General Hecticness -- there's exciting-professional-hecticness, there's fun-travel-hecticness, and then there's painful incessant administrative hurdles that one has to jump through in the UAE which make life unmanageably hectic. I have never been able to express to people how unnecessarily traumatic small administrative tasks are to accomplish in the UAE. And for no good reason except human carelessness. Just as one example, to have internet connected at my house it took 11 applications, about 25 visits to the internet company's offices (each visit takes about 25 mins stuck in traffic, 15 mins trying to park, 1 hour waiting only to find that you were given a waiting token for the wrong division, and I will spare you the explanation of trying to communicate with the staff members when you're trying to determine *which division you are meant to speak to, etc., etc.), four visits to my house by the technicians to [not] install my internet, and then keeping the technician hostage until the internet company and/or the technician can give me a good reason why it's impossible to install internet. Imagine the headache of basic tasks such as opening bank accounts, paying phone bills, finding an apartment, buying a car, car repairs, minor car accident administration, minor car accident repairs, car servicing, communicating with a taxi driver, home repairs, cancelling visas, etc., etc.

4. No camera -- everyone is taking fabulous, highly professional-looking photos these days with state-of-the-art cameras, and then emailing them or facebooking them electronically to be instantly shared with the rest of the world. It was during my trip to Peru in 2006 that I realised I was starting to live through my camera, feeling constant pressure to capture a moment, capture a site from it's most interesting angle, and document my life experiences on film. These days I am rarely the one behind the camera, and seem to have gotten much more lethargic with documenting my experiences in general.

5. Ex-pats -- I had never had so many white anglo friends in my life. Emirati culture is very private, and Abu Dhabi's population is 20% UAE Nationals, and 80% ex-pats. I worked for the government and was very fortunate to have a great deal of exposure to Emirati culture, and to have Emirati friends. But there are social rules that must be followed which limited the amount of time and conditions under which I could enjoy the company of my Emirati friends. The mix of ex-pats is highly stratified based on the combination between your job and your nationality: labourers live on labour camps and speak no English with no right to travel or see their families for the duration of their stay; service workers live in crowded apartments, sometimes with rotating sleeping shifts, speak English and are very sociable, but their role is to serve and they have no right to travel or bring their families; and, skilled workers and entrepreneurs, who have exponentially higher wages than service workers, have the right to bring over their families, have the vacation days, money, and right to travel, but are still divided in salary by the position they hold as well as the country they are from, with Western skilled workers having the highest wages within each pay band. Therefore you can save everyone a lot of embarassment by just simply spending time with the people who have relatively the same social boundaries, pay, and rights that you have, although it gives you much less material to write home about.

6. Good friends -- having been employee number 12 at an organization that now has over 180 employees, many of whom are young, energetic, explorative, art-and-culture-loving, food-loving, extroverts, and despite Abu Dhabi being considered a "boring" place, we made the most of it and managed to have endless fun. Abu Dhabi was also the longest I'd ever spent in one place except "home", and I certainly have a new appreciatation for longer stays.

7. Long distance -- whatever energy that was leftover was spent maintaining a long distance relationship, which is now a no-distance relationship in Amsterdam. I tended not to write because the first question was often "When are you two finally going to live together?"

So I have no excuses in Amsterdam!

09 February 2010

The Call to Beer.

People have often asked me if living in a Muslim country has changed my religious practices.

Ramadan and Fridays are the only times I actually felt like I lived in a different culture. In the UAE, people work a Sunday through Thursday work week where Friday is the Holy Day, Thursday night is our Friday night, Friday is our Sunday, and Saturday nights are spent relaxing, preparing for the busy work week ahead, rather than gearing up for a night on the town.

Despite these alterations to the work week, my life in Abu Dhabi looked more like my life in suburban Vancouver above anywhere else I had ever been. I drove to work, I drove straight from work to the hypermarket to fetch groceries, free time was spent driving to the shopping mall or to friends' houses, and life revolved around the availability of parking, and the path of least traffic resistence.

Friday was a very different scene. A typical Friday morning involved sleeping in, lazing about, and eventually making breakfast plans that never managed to come to fruition until lunchtime. We would leave the house walking or driving along empty roads, famished from having taken so long to organise ourselves, recounting the adventures of the week. Walking through the streets of Abu Dhabi, there is a rare quietness as we dash through the alleyways, enjoying the hidden gems of the Capital tucked behind the boulevards. Abu Dhabi has an oppressive super-block configuration where most people's urban experience occurs stuck in traffic on 8-lane boulevards lined with 22-storey buildings, or squeezing through parked vehicles on the smaller roads on the insides of the blocks which have become veritable parking lots punctuated by sheesha cafes and mosques. But at midday on Fridays the streets are empty of cars, and the usual bustle and honking of the inner superblocks is replaced by a quiet sea of white robes walking peacefully to the Friday mosque for prayers. We pass a group gathered under a tree drinking tea and realise for the first time that many of these interstitial urban spaces are actually rather nice places to spend time.

Our church is in sight. A single voice begins to ring from the surrounding mosques -- the Call to Prayer -- ushering its followers into their houses of faith. The pace speeds up as our Muslim brothers stream into the Friday mosques, eager not to be late for their weekly Jumu'ah prayer. With this same sense of urgency, we too make haste, pouring into our adopted house of worship: Brauhaus. And a hmmm / mmmm falls on the whole city as we observe our respective creeds. If anything, my life in Abu Dhabi has strengthened my religious practice of beer.

25 September 2009

[Not] Spoiled.

We had a busy summer of exciting travels.

July was spent in Canada, with trips to enjoy friends and family in Calgary, Vancouver, and Portland, a drive along the stunning Oregon Coast to the Olympic Penninsula in Washington State, and a stay at a former Burlesque house in the 19th-Century-preserved-wild-west town of Port Townsend.

August began with a long weekend of good food and great music in Amsterdam. Just a few weeks later we were back in the Netherlands for some birthday fun -- indoor skydiving, more fantastic food, and a weekend stay at Engelenburg Castle, including a six course meal with six paired wines.

September began in the Netherlands at the castle, five days later we were in Beirut for my birthday weekend of surprises. My first surprise was a trip to Byblos, the famous Phoenician port town founded in 5000 BC, for walks around the old town and the best squid I've ever had in my life. The next surprise was a tour of Chateau Musar Winery, and a visit to the absolutely stagerring Jeita Grotto. Between surprises, we spent our time walking the neighbourhoods of Beirut, soaking in its raw beauty and animation.

Another four day work week in the UAE, and it was Eid holidays in Jordan for a wide range of historical, relaxation, spiritual, and adventure travel experiences. The well-preserved Roman city of Jerash rivalled Ephesus, floating in the Dead Sea was surprisingly entertaining, and there was lots of good food to be had. Seven hours walking around Petra was not enough to absorb the vastness and intricacies of the 5.5 km long ancient capital of the Nabataeens, a truly ethereal place of natural beauty, dramatic landscapes, and monumental yet elegant architecture, that requires a high degree of fitness! Our trip wrapped up with an adventurous climb up the gorge-ous (pun pun) Wadi Mujib where I was twice rescued by Reinier from the rapids, and finally a walk through Amman's Byzantine ruins.

While enjoying another delicious three hour meal in Amman, Reinier looked at me holding a glass of Jordanian red wine and asked: "Are we spoiled?"

"Well, that depends on how you measure it. I live on the other side of the world from all of my family, and I live three timezones from my partner. I live in a city I don't feel connected to, where I cannot do many of the activities I most enjoy. I see injustice every day, and I don't have the luxury of knowing that there is a social safety net that is taking care of the under-priviledged, which I am not only helping to pay for via taxes, but I am also able to influence via a democratic system. My job is very challenging but exhausting, and getting anything done in the UAE is full of obstacles and frustration. We pay for this -- we can afford all of these trips financially, because we pay for it with lifestyle, distance, and stress."

Spoiled is relative. Anyone who enjoys security in food, shelter, and personal safety is spoiled. Within my current context of living in the UAE, spoiled to me is living in the same city as your partner, paying taxes towards the wellbeing of others, understanding your rights, living within a few hours of your family, and enjoying an active and engaging lifestyle with your urban and natural environment.

However, within my next context of being poor but happy living in Europe, we shall see how quickly I miss the luxuries I do have here: lots of vacation time, sufficient finances to spend on all the travels I want, daily swims in my pool, an exciting job, and having a tight social international community I can always count on. We shall see how long it will take me to realise that I am [not] spoiled here.

17 August 2009

Kevin Mitchell on Making Sense of the Gulf.

"When confronted with such rapid transformation, it is difficult to make sense of what is happening in the Gulf and constant change precludes broad generalizations. One tends to either run in fear while ranting about the excesses made possible by the most extreme manifestations of neoliberalism or to stand frozen while expressing a perverse fascination with what is deemed to be inevitable."
- Kevin Mitchell on the Gulf countries in "Constructing Fact, Fantasy, and Fiction", Al Manakh 2006

04 January 2009

2008 in Review: another point form summary of travels with promises of more thoughtful reflections to come.

My New year's resolution is to drink more water and by year's end to have books, films, music, recipes, and intriguing articles, websites or other tidbits to recommend in my 2009 review. For 2008, I have failed entirely at a balanced life and have mostly concentrated all my energy (and money!) on travel, travel, and escapism via travel.

I have been very fortunate to be able to travel so much this year, and with such good company -- I intend to do some justice to the people and places I have met along the way by dedicating more time to writing about them soon. Here is a brief summary of some of the highlights (in no particular order):



Lebanon - electric street life and urban renaissance in Beirut, and my first Muslim- and Lebanese- wedding in Tyre.



Oman - legitimate natural and cultural oasis, with authentic historical culture and remarkable old, decaying towns to set up camp in.



Yemen - one of the most extraordinary places I've been, with gingerbread-house-looking historical skyscrapers, beautiful landscapes, and a lot of able-bodied people chewing qat on the side of the road all day long.



Nepal - pagodas and dim sum, hinduism and curry, experiencing extremes of funky ex-pat communities in Kathmandu, and a weekend local-style in the village of my tea boy with his family.



India - an emerging economy with all the comforts associated with having a middle class. The legacy of thousands of years of progressive civilisation, and an overwhelming excitment for the future. I only scratched the surface of Delhi, Agra (the Taj Mahal), and Mumbai.



Sri Lanka - military offensives kept all the other tourists out, but there is just so much Sri Lanka has to offer. Preserved (and unexpectedly impressive) archaeological cities, stunning beauty, good food and crafts, and sacred buddhist sites.



Ethiopia - where to begin? Ethiopia has been secretly succeeding as a great empire out of reach at 2000 metres for thousands of years. It's the cradle of humanity, with many of the world's earliest hominids surfacing in the Great Rift Valley, it has been a 'civilised' Christian empire with a developed writing system hundreds of years before Christianity ever reached Europe, 11th Century churches carved out of bedrock (picture above), natural beauty, excellent food, the headquarters of the African Union, the only sub-Saharan African country to have never been colonised by imperial forces. The list continues.



Scotland - extended business trip to re-visit my first ex-pat home (Edinburgh) and finally give Glasgow the attention it deserves!



Belgium - cycling along canals to abbeys all over central Belgium, sampling the fruits of the monks' centuries of labour: Belgian Abbey Beers!



Germany - Christmas with my mother in Cologne, Bonn, the 'romantic Rhine', and Trier, just the two of us (literally -- all the shops were closed and the streets empty). Trier was a surprising highlight of our lovely, however frozen, German experience.



Paris - a romantic New Year in the most notoriously romantic city in the world.



The Netherlands - lots of laughs, meals, walks and wine, and a nine-hour long Christmas dinner in Dutch. I will have a lot more to say about NL in 2009.

Thankfully there's lots of water in Holland, which should help scratch off my first New Year's resolution!