My explination for why there are no photos

There are no photos because I left the chord that gets pictures from the camera to the computer in Sittard. So, as soon as I get that chord back this blog will be flooded with pictures documenting my recent adventures in a unique and visually stimulating way. Yes, you should be excited.

Queen's Day

Hey, so today was Queen's day. It's an annual celebration in Holland that is centered around (yes, you guessed it) the Queen. The Queen in Holland is a ceremonial figure, however, she and her family command a lot of public attention.

Anyways, to celebrate 'it' everyone goes out and drinks and parties and sells stuff. All over the country people clean out their garages and put their old stuff up for sale. It's a national flea market.

So, we went to Amsterdam. I heard that their were 600,000 people in Amsterdam (plus the people who actually live there). For Freek, me and his parents the day went smoothly, however, others weren't so lucky.

In the city of Apeldoorn there was an attempted attack on the royal family. A unnamed man broke through police barriers and attempted to drive his car into the royal families open air bus. He didn't hit the bus, however, he did hit pedestrians killing five (several more are in critical condition). In response to the attack the festivities were cancelled in every city in Holland, except Amsterdam. The reason that it wasn't cancelled in Amsterdam (as explained to me) was that there were too many people. The mayor said that if he cancelled the festivities the city would be flooded with aimless party goers. So the show went on.

Still, you could feel the heaviness in the air. The concerts were shorter and there were no after parties.

As one person told me "We aren't used to seeing this kind of stuff (in regards to some very graphic videos showing the attack) in Holland. This is the kind of stuff you see coming from America."

What have I been up to?

Well, I'm a bit behind on the posts, but I'll try to catch you all up, right now.

So, as you can see by my last post I was planning on going to Poland. However, that didn't work out. A couple of things happened, but ultimately what happened was that we missed the flight.

On Friday April 25, Freek and I went to his internship. Freek is a climbing instructor as part of his school (he is studying sports and movement). While Freek taught people how to climb, I climbed with a guy named Stijn. We ended up climbing for six hours, which was a blast. After that, we went to Stijn's house in a city called Nijmegan (it was now about 10:30 pm). The plan was to catch a few hours of sleep and then go run in the annual Batavieren race. It's a team race that goes about 185 kilometeres. I was running 6.1 km starting at 1:30 am.

Well, it turned out we didn't go to bed. I spent the next 10 hours running and cheering and occasionally sleeping in the back of a van.

Anways, once our team (about six students from Freek's school) had finished our section the race, Freek and I got on a train, ready to go to Eindhoven. We were going to Eindhoven, as you may know, to catch a train to Polland.

Well, to make a long story short we missed the plane. The whole day was a surreal experience. We spent an hour on a bus, that seemed to be going in circles. Freek and I both kept falling asleep and then jerking awake, afraid we might have missed our stop.

So, there we were, in the Eindhoven airport, sleepless, and flightless. We decided to make the best of the situation. So, we got back on the train and headed back to the finish line of the race.

You see, the main motivation for most of the runners of the Batavieren race is the party after the race.

Well, it was quite a party. It was set up in the middle of a universitie's campus. There were fields and fields of tents. I was told that there are around 9,000 students at this party. There were five or six DJ's and four or five stages.

It was a fun party, to say the least. However, the next morning, I couldn't help but think.

The fields all over the campous were covered in garbage. Plastic cups and all sorts of things. As we were leaving people were already beginning to clean up. However, the resembalance was startling. It looked like India.

Anyways, it was weird to see. I have some photos of various things and I will post them as soon as I have a chance.

Off to Poland

So, tomorrow Freek and I are boarding an airplane to Poland. We will be there untill Thursday. Before we leave Freek and I are going rock climbing (tonight). Then at 1 am I'm running 6.1 km for a large student benefit run. So, it's going to be an active week! Anyways, I will try to post, but we will see.
Ok, bye.

The American Image?

While traveling I have always been aware of my status as an American. Being an American has a certain specialness to it. In one way, much of the world is hopelessly captivated by our movies, our music, the political decisions our leaders make. In another way they are vehemently against what we represent... greed, pre-emptive strikes, pollution etc.

Either way, when you tell someone you are from America, it means more than saying that you are from Canada.

I've been lucky. Everyone I have met and spent any amount of time with has been gracious, kind and accepting. They judge me based on who I am and not who/what my country is.

Still, I'm curious about what people think when they think about Americans. While in India, I asked as many people as I had the opportunity to. Surprisingly enough, at least to me, the responses were quite positive.

I found (from the few people I talked to) that India wants to be America. Although large tracts of India are still completely immured in the past, the majority of the urban centers and much of the youth are crying for change. They believe, and I think they are right, that their time is coming. As more and more skilled jobs are coming to India it makes sense that Indians are looking to change, and they want to change into us. They see America as the country to emulate. Again, this is just the impression that I got from the few people that I talked to.

However, my experience in Europe has been a bit different. Like I said, everyone has been very kind and hospitable, but the stereotypes that they have of America are not nearly as rosy as of those held by Indians.

I've heard from several different people that generally when they think of Americans they think of wasteful and overweight people. They think of the Iraq war, they marvel that we are allowed to drive and own guns at the age of 16 but can't drink until we're 21. They think about the Iraq and Afghanistan (Holland has soldiers in Afghanistan) conflicts.

They also know us through music, television and movies. Everywhere I go I here American songs playing on the radio, Hollywood movies on the T.V.

I can't really blame them for the stereotypes that they have of us. Today, I was at a shop eating a sandwhich. The TV was showing an episode from MTV Made. The people depicted on the show were ridiculous. They were stupid and self-centered, and they happened to be American. The truth is that a lot of Dutch people know most of what they know about America via television. And, at least in my opinion, most television shows don't depict the best qualities of America.

So, I guess I would say that most Dutch people have some very strong stereotypes regarding Americans as a whole. However, they seem to be good at looking beyond the stereotype and seeing the individual (me in this case) that just so happens to be an American.

Some sights

A Dutch windmill...

... a canal going through a town...

... almost the same shot, but more kayak...

... the jaw bone of a whale...

... and, finally, Freek playing pool.

A hazy tradgedy

I've been busy the last couple of weeks. It's been a lot of fun but not particularly noteworthy. I spent last week in a city called Delpht with some of Freek's friends. They were very nice and it was fun to see a different city.

However, this post isn't about that. Freek and I were on our way back from Northern Holland where we had spent the weekend. We had a 15 or 20 minute layover in a city called Utrecht, which is a central hub for trains.

We were sitting on the bench just hanging out when this (apparently homeless) man came up to us and began asking for money. Freek, not having any money told me that if I wanted to I could give him some. So I gave the guy one Euro. He had some postcards that he wanted to trade with me (they were free postcards that he had taken from somewhere). I placed my wallet on the bench next to me as he began to show me the postcards. However, my wallet slipped off the bench. I wasn't worried about it, I knew exactly where it was. The man, ostensibly to show me the postcards better, bent down on one knee. As he did so he scooped up my wallet.

Seeing this (just barely) I said to him “Hey man, give me my wallet back”. He said he didn't have it. I stood up (as did he) and said again “Hey, giving me my fucking wallet, I saw you take it”. Luckily for me (and not for him) he was pinned in by the glass of the waiting area. Again he denied any knowledge of the wallet. So, with some profanities, I pushed him up against the glass.

He was a big guy, maybe 6' 3''. But he was fat, and as I quickly realized, completely out of it. Maybe he was stoned, drunk or mentally sick, whatever it was, there wasn't much he could do. I had the advantage.

I asked (kind of) for my wallet back, again. He told me (again) that he didn't have it. He told me to search him. So, I turned him around and lifted up his shirt, and sure enough (much to my relief) there it was, stuck into his boxers.

I took it back and told him to get out of there. Before he left I took a few of the postcards (maybe just a little bit spiteful). Freek was in the process of calling the police and the guy made a hasty retreat.

We ended up talking to two officers and tried to give them a description. Some friendly spectators who had seen the whole encounter helped fill in the detail. At this point and for the next 10 or 20 minutes I was shaking with a mix adrenaline, fear and self-righteous anger. If I had lost my wallet I would have been royally screwed.

And then the adrenaline began to wear off. And I remembered how it felt, to grab this fully grown man, and realize that he was defenseless, truly helpless against me, a 19-year-old brat on a world wide romp.

I felt like crying. All I could see was the little kid in that man. The little kid that, no doubt grew up in a hopeless situation. Somehow, somewhere he wasn't loved. Somebody didn't hold that kid. And that kid grew up into this man. A man, who tried to steal from someone who was giving him charity. But in my wallet I had 150 Euros, plus a bank card with access to five times that. So, giving him one Euro was almost an insult

I'm not saying I didn't do the right thing (if there is such a thing as the right thing). But the disparity of the situation, the tragedy of it is mind boggling.

I have everything. I'm strong, fit, rich, and loved. I'm protected by the law from men like him. He is outside of the society, even with the advanced state of Holland's social services he is still dangerously close to the edge.

And he shouldn't steal from people. We have to be protected from people like that.

We and them. We being the ones in power.

I know that what happened, how it happened, had to happen as it did. I need my money, my ID all that jazz. It's true I do need it.

But I still can't get that image of me shoving a little kid up against a glass partition. Me in all my righteous anger manhandling someone with absolutely nothing.

A closer look at the Dutch bike

So, here are some pictures of the type of bike I've been riding.

Here is the built in lock.

And a closer look.

Here you can see the entire bike.



Later Freek and I went to get groceries. They don't give bags at Dutch supermarkets so panniers are a must.

To Gel or not to Gel?

When I was in ninth grade I used to gel my hair all the time. It was a morning ritual. I would wake up and take a shower. A shower was a must, because you have all the gel in your hair from the night before. After I showered I would dry my hair lightly and then apply handfuls of Gel. Soon, my hair would be helmet like, impenetrable to wind, bugs, dust, anything really.

It really was the life. Putting on a shirt and or taking one off was a bit hard, sometimes they would become stuck to my hair, causing all sorts of discomfort. But I was on top of the world.

And then the dot.com bubble burst. Suddenly I found myself unable to support my Gel habit. After i lost my job I stopped worrying about my looks. I would roll out of bed, pop open a beer and watch T.V. I didn't matter if my hair was puffy or ugly or flat or anything.

You know it's true. It happened all over America. Hundreds of thousands of men suddenly stopped Gelling their hair. They just didn't care.

Things got better, economically speaking, but my pride never really returned. I never fully recovered. I resorted to short hair cuts and hats. Never again did I Gel my hair.

Well, things changed in Holland. You see, although Holland was hit hard by the dot.com bubble burst, the winds of fate saw fit to leave them with plenty of Gel. The day the bubble burst, there just so happened to be a huge shipment of Gel going through Amsterdam. Truckloads of the stuff were lined up waiting to be shipped to America. But suddenly their customer base was gone. The Gell companies folded and Holland was left with literally tons and tons of Gel. So the government began giving the stuff away. Much like health care.

Enter Eli Francovich, five years later. Fresh from india I hadn't thought about Gel in years. Ok, maybe months. But I wasn't ready for what Holland was going to throw at me. Every man, woman and child had Gel dripping out of their hair. At first I though "Nah, I ain't gonna use that stuff, it's too good for me." However, I soon realized I had no alternative. People looked at me weird. I was told on multiple occasions that "You "have the potential to look nice, but you really gotta do something with your hair." I began to Gel my hair.

Ever since then my self-confidence has begun to return. Sure, I'm unemployed, I don't have a college degree, the economy is a mess (again) and it's still snowing in Idaho, but hey, at least I have Gel in my hair, right?

Biking around

So, I got an impassionated request for a blog about bikes. The request came via my Uncle Pat. He has an amazing blog about biking in Spokane. You should really check it out here.

Anyways, this post won't do justice to the Dutch biking scene, but I will try.

Holland has an amazing public transit system. While many families own cars, most don't use them on a daily or even weekly basis. Instead they use the train, bus or they bike. You can almost anywhere in Holland via any three of these mediums.

The bike lanes here are very clearly marked, often they are seperate roads. They follow the main roads and highways (see here). There are roadsigns for bikers, telling them how far to the next city. It makes biking very easy and safe.

However, the flip side is that the rules regarding bikers and biking are much stricter. A couple of nights ago me and some friends were biking back from the pool and the cops pulled us over. One of the people we were biking with didn't have a light. She was lucky and only got fined 10 euros, however, the maximnum fine for that kind of infraction is 80 euros. So they take it pretty seriously. Having all these rules kind of dampens some of the fun of biking for me. In America biking feels a little bit less controled. I feel kind of like a lot of the rules of the road don't apply to me in the same way. Which isn't true technically, but practically it is (at least in my experience).

Anyways, all that aside it's really nice biking in Holland. Three days ago I went on my first 'long' bike adventure. It was a 25 km ride to a city called Maastricht. Although I didn't take the scenic route, it was still a beautiful bike ride. The bike path followed the main highway fairly closely, however, it was seperaed by a little strip of grass. It doesn't sound like much but it sure is nicer than hugging the shoulder while cars hurtle by inches from you. I ended up planning the trip terribly and had to take the train back in order to be home in time to help cook dinner. But now I know it can be done, so I will do it again.

Most people ride pretty heavy commuting bikes. I don't prefer to ride on them but they are nice enough. On nice days I see packs of spandexed bikers hurtling by. Although I've never had the oppurtunity to ride on a Dutch road bike, they look just as fast and efficient as their American counterparts. One interesting thing about European bikes is that the lock is built into the bike. A metal bar clamps between the back spokes and then you just lock it. Although it makes the bike heavier, it is nice not to have to carry a lock eveywhere you go (this was the same in India). I haven't done any bike work so I don't know what other differances there in terms of hardware.

Here is a picture of the bike I rode to Maastricht. I will try to post some more detailed photos of bikes as soon as I recharge my camera (my power adapter is all screwed up).

Ok, there is more coming on bikes. I have some videos I took and a few more photos. I will post those as soon as I can. Adios.

For the bike lovers