Beermat

Ever wondered what two guys do when they're out drinking in an Irish pub? Hitting on girls? Maybe, but an important soccer match was being broadcasted... so watching soccer? Nah, here's the summary of our conversation:

Ok, I'm a dork sometimes

Note to self

Avoid this place till the Gentse Feesten is all over - bad hangover from too small cocktails. And nope, I wasn't drunk, just vewy tipseh!

House renovation

I started renovating my house last january. The two top rooms should be finally done by mid-august. Tomorrow is Ikea-day, I'll go hunting for the 'Malm' bed, nightstand and drawers, 'Markör' bookcases and of course a 'Leksvik' wardrobe. I'll so need Wasa Knäckebrot to start my day.

Boring cheeseheads

After enjoying a week filled with scientifically and politically correct cross-cultural psychology congress-frenzyness in the Netherlands ... I would think all of my stereotypes about the Dutch would have vanished ... let's see.

I could define them as intolerant, loud, extravert, stingy, but let’s face it … it doesn’t touch the core: the Dutch are boring cheeseheads when it comes to food – considering the richness of the French and Belgian cheese traditions with their variation in tastes, texture, colors and hairs growing inside, that’s the only conclusion I can make after three days of three choices of gouda during congress dinner: plain, nettle or cumin (the protestant Dutch trinity of cheese). Sometimes I wonder if cross-cultural differences in food habits can be explained by socio-psychological phenomena only, or if the Dutch lack certain food taste genes.

One of the few things we (the Flemish speaking Belgians) do have in common with the Dutch is the language. Disregarding the dialects, we are supposed to speak kinda the same language. Ok, After beating up the guy who told me my conference presentation was very “enerverend” (in Flanders that means making him nervous and restless) I found out that “enerverend” means exciting up North. And ok, someone who says ‘ik ga even poepen’ is something we understand as I’m going for a quick fuck, while they just have a toilet visit …you see: nothing major. But whatever you do as a Flemish speaking belgian: don’t ever try ordering a sparkling water up there. While Spa is a Belgian small city known for its springs and bottled water that is exported internationally, the Dutch claimed ‘Spa red’ (the version with red bottle caps) their word for sparkling water, refusing to accept or learn any other synonym. So when we order a spuit-(sparkling)water they just look dumb or degrading. Since we were in international company and needed some spa red with our wine and safe non-Dutch food, I tried the English variant: Could we get a bottle of sparkling water please. The Gouda style Dutch waitress replied: Sparkling water with bubbles?

Out of pure misery and after some local beers without much backbone later on that evening, we decided to try the only true specialty the Dutch can claim when it comes to food: wallwide ‘automat’s’ filled with fried meat and crust combo’s: premade, always colder than they should be and fat! … but oh so Dutch.