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Day 12: Buses and Trains-
Day 12: Buses and Trains
As that famous saying goes, why do all good things come to an end?
The girls and I decided to do some last minute shopping today at Waterlooplein in Amsterdam. It was a small antique market on the street which sold the coolest stuff. This time, there was no rush. You could feel the more relaxed aura permeating through all of us. Although, the fact that our little Wonderland trip will soon be over, was obviously all floating over our heads. I don’t know about the others, but it didn’t bother me yet.
After buying a couple of the typical souvenir gifts (key chains, some small figurines, beer bottle openers) we decided to call it a day. We had our last evaluation meeting with Lokaalmondiaal today, and all the buddies were going to be there.
Pia and I went ahead, as I still had to interview Major Hamstra and Mr. Amin Michel on the phone. On the train back to Arnhem, I was interviewing Mr. Hamstra on my cellphone. Too bad I didn’t get to meet him in person, I would have really liked to talk to him personally ever since I found about him during my research. But Boris wanted me to be there at the evaluation so I had to settle for a phone interview. So I briefly interviewed Major Hamstra in the train. I asked a bit about his personal life, and got some pretty interesting stuff. After that, Pia and I made a song to be sung at the dinner after the evaluation. We thought it only fitting to sing the song this time.
I was thinking about it in Amsterdam, and thought about what best encapsulated our experience here in Holland. When I remembered that our buddies sang a song about riding jeepneys, voila, Buses and Trains came to mind. Ergo, our version:
Buses and Trains
by Christeljke-Ateneo delegates
Ste’fan, why didn’t you tell us
Why didn’t you give us a clue
That reporting was so hard
And Holland so cold
Now we’re packed in 10 pounds of clothing
CHORUS:
And/When we walked under a bus (to Utrecht)
Got hit by a train (to Rotterdam)
Kept falling in love (with Amsterdam)
Which is kinda the same
Drank tons of coffee, interviewed, gone insane
But it felt so good, I wanna do it again
Boris, why didn’t you tell us
That we’d have such an awesome time here
So many thanks to you Gerwald, Ans, Heleen, Jolijn and Sven (Reinilde)
For all the things that you did for us
[Back to Chorus]
I wanted to cry while singing this, but I didn’t.
It was our last goodbye. Exchange gifts.
We’ll always have Holland.
- Day 11 - Last Story Day
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Day 11 - Last Story Day
Exhausted from the day before, I woke up pretty late past our call time. So I rushed to gather my things and then off we all rushed to catch the train.
I was supposed to go to Zeeland today to feature a little town called the Philippine. It was famous for its delicious mussel restaurants, and the town apparently was also named afte King Philipp of Spain just like the Philippines. But I didn’t have a sure contact who lived there. There was only someone who lived nearby and she knows a Filipina who worked in the Philippines in one of their famous mussel restaurants. Plus, since two of my gay soldier interviewees cancelled, I had to make sure I at least interviewed one other gay soldier for my stories. As a back-up, Heleen and I contacted a lesbian couple who are also soldiers, in case I don’t get to interview Major Hamstra and Mr. Michel personally. So the destination for today was in Leeuwarden, Friesland.
I’ve heard about Friesland before because Boris had told us it was unlike other Dutch towns. But not like Maastricht which was unlike Dutch towns in the architectural sense, Friesland was really as if it was its own world. They had a different language, or if not, their Dutch is tainted with a twang.
Heleen’s boyfriend, Maurits lived in Leeuwarden, so that’s where we headed off to first to pass the time. It was nice. He cooked us some scrambled eggs with bacon. Eggs and bacon equals buddy’s seal of approval!
At quarter to 1, we finally went to Leeuwarden to interview the lesbian couple.
Nanda and Marjanke are too much for words, in a good way. Coming from a country where even two women holding hands is a taboo, interesting understates them. Plus, they have interesting personalities. They are both smart, opinionated and very outspoken yet they are also kind, polite and hospitable. The whole meet-up didn’t feel like an interview at all, but it was full of substance.
First its perks, with Nana and Marjanke both recalling their experiences as a couple together. An interesting bit worth mentioning is when they both agreed to take turns getting pregnant. But because Nanda can’t get pregnant, then Marjanke gladly took the backseat from work and assumed the Mother role.
Then, comes the serious part.
“Homosexual rights are basically human rights. Because homosexuals are after all human beings as well. And that’s something many tend to forget.”
That struck me. If not for the fact that they were both women, Nana and Marjanke as a couple would come off perfectly ‘normal’ in the standard sense, if not more loving even compared to most couples. It’s funny and sad at the same time that so much of who you are can be judged on something as petty (well maybe it’s not as petty for now) as your gender. It’s unfair.
As much as I want to do the best I can with this story, I shuddered in thinking how I would write it. I want to make it as best as possible for those discriminated, and for those who are afraid to come out of the closet back at home. But I don’t know how.
We went back to Maurits house where he cooked rice for me. Earlier I was joking that I missed rice. But apparently, he took it seriously and bought some rice in the market. He cooked some along with his special meat and vegetable curry.
Finally we ended the day at Gerwald’s place where we just laid back and relaxed with some drinks, famous Dutch treats like frikandel (sort of like a sausage), cheese and some chips. We met his lovely wife Annemieke, and Gerwald’s dad.
I felt lucky that we were able to visit many Dutch houses here. In the Philippines, they’d only gone to Ma’am Chay’s house, and I heard that they really wanted to visit some of our houses. Too bad mine was in Davao. So I guess this time they really made it a point to invite us in their houses.
Oh well. All in a day’s work again. Amidst the laughter and the talks, I didn’t want to think about the approaching end of the program just yet, because we had one day left together. But this was our last together, with just us.
- Day 10: Fun-Filled Farm Day!
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Day 10: Fun-Filled Farm Day!
Monday - May 16, 2011
Earlier in my posts, I talked something about pulling a Mary Poppins on this trip, seeing picturesque Dutch towns come to life. Well, we finally got to play the part today (not literally of course) as we transported ourselves into a world we only normally saw on our milk cartons. The world of the famous, iconic black and white cows grazing on green fields spattered with fat furry sheep and majestic horses on the side. Description not exaggerated.
It was an early call time again for us because Deil was far from Amsterdam. Gerwald and Sven picked us up at our hostel, where Sven was to bring us to Amersfoort, and Gerwald to bring our luggages back to the Stay Ok hostel in Arnhem. It was a quick goodbye to Hans Brinker though, and I’d never thought I’d say it but I was going to miss the place. I’ll admit, it grew on me. Like Jack Sparrow, it was difficult but with a lot of character.
Anyway, Jolijn picked us up at the station with a big, rugged truck that made me feel like a cow girl in the West Side Story. During the drive, it was the first time I saw what the farm fields I only see through train windows looked like up close. And it was even more beautiful zoomed in. Refer to earlier description in the first paragraph.
We first dropped our stuff off at one of the houses in Jolijn’s farm. It was the house where the people with mental disability they adopted were staying. We met one of them (I forgot the name), and he was older than he looked. It was because of their sickness that stopped them growing mentally but not physically. So while they looked like normal adults, they didn’t think like so.
We then had some delicious stroopwafels and coffee, while Jolijn oriented us with the itinerary for the day. It felt so soothing to be talking about stuff over hot drinks, while it was very cold outside. Plus Jolijn’s couch felt so cozy, with the additional feature of a chubby, furry cat that occasionally walked behind your head at the edge of the sofa. I am reminded of a Nescafe’ commercial back at home.
Finally, it was time to scratch off the lineup of activities one by one. Again in our rowdy truck, all nine of us—Jolijn, Sven, Pia, Janna, Kai, Jio, Dav and Alexa from Lokaalmondiaal—went to Jolijn’s horse farm which was about a 5 minute drive away from the house. We stopped in front of ‘Harten Hoeve’ a restaurant-cum-horse stable/farm.
The earlier drizzle made the weather even colder. But it didn’t stop us from hogging all the farm fun.
Starting with the magical milking machine! Well it wasn’t really magical, but would be as good as one to a 5 year old-minded person like me, because it was automatic. It would detect the cow’s nipples and attach itself to it and start milking. Man, what technology can do nowadays. According to the farmers, this really helped them ease their job because they used to wake up at 5 am everyday just to set up the pseudo-manual milking machine.
Where they kept gallons of ‘Fulleh Melk’
And what was a milking machine without milk! Not only did we visit the world plastered on our milk cartons today, we got to have our first taste of fresh, full, unprocessed milk straight from the cow’s bosoms! A woman, that seemed to have come out of a storybook, with her cute apron and round spectacles arrived with her pitcher of milk and offered us some.
I have never tasted fuller milk before. Its texture was rich, creamy and very flavourfully bland. It was so good, as far as milk could go! After finishing one cup, the old woman would pour me another one. With the accompanying high-pitched ”Fulleh Melk!”, to which I cluelessly answer “Lekker! lekker!” (This means delicious. Just one of the very few Dutch words I know to help me get by in a conversation I really don’t understand.)
Anyway, we then went to the area where they kept the newly born baby cows. They were soooo cute! I was teasing some of the bigger cows by letting them drink some of my ‘fulleh melk’ when Jolijn grabbed my hand and let one of the baby cows suck on my fingers. It was slimy and ticklish, but I decided not to mind because the baby cows looked very cute in doing it.
On our way to our next stop, we found a haystack. I first pretended to be a farm worker while pushing on a wheelbarrow, and then Kai and I played with the hay. I pushed Kai in the haystack, while she tried to throw some at me. It was childish of us, but it was fun anyway.
And then we chased some sheep!
We hadn’t planned on doing it, because all I really wanted to do was pet them, but they’d always go away! So Pia and I ended up chasing some of them. Apparently, Jio took a video of it while Dav was singing to Kordero ng Diyos. It was very funny! (Paging Jio Igual for the video). My favorite were three very clique-ish sheep who’d always run together even when the others weren’t being chased. Now I know why they’re called black sheep. :|
Ba ba baaaad black sheep.
And then we rode a horse!
One round around the stables each. It was pretty difficult to get up on one because everytime I’d start, the horse would go away. It didn’t like me boo. Jolijn said it was probably because the horse could sense that I was tensed. So she called some of the stable assistants to calm the horse and she was talking to it in Dutch. I was surprised when Jolijn told me that the assistant was one of the disabled people her parents hired to work in the stable.
And then we had the best lunch ever!
It was back to the van Harten household, with a cozy ambience and. An array of delicious Dutch food sat waiting to be devoured. On the menu was Hootspoot, which was basically soup with peas, vegetables, meat and etc., tomato soup, mini-pancakes, and sandwiches with ham, cheese or a special spread. Yum, would be an understatement.
And then we played some Farmer’s golf!
When in a farm do as the farmers do. So we rid ourselves of our city shoes, and put some cowboy boots on, because it was time to play golf, the Dutch farmers style!
Now I don’t know the exact mechanics of the real golf, but farmer’s golf was pretty much the same. You were to hit a bigger ball with a makeshift club (the edge was made of a clog), into 8 different holes scattered around the field. The less hits the team has in shooting the ball int0 the whole, the more chances of them winning. We were divided into two groups, the “Cowlekkers” and the “Dutch East Filipino Company”.
It was exhilirating and fun! Sven kept telling us how to do it but everytime he hit it, it would always go farther. There was one time when he hit it in another field altogether and he had toto cross to the other side. After the 4th hole, we all took a break and had some drinks. For the second half of the game, I must say we all did pretty good. We were getting less and less strokes for each hole. But then Sven hit a cow, which made us add 3 strokes in our points. In the end, Pia, Kai and Jio’s team won by 5 points.
And then we had some wine to unwind.
At night, we drank some wine, ate some chips, we talked, we played never have I ever in which some secrets were revealed. Gerwald interestingly, and I must say very uncreatively, told us about his love story with his wife Annemieke.
“First we didn’t like each other, and then we liked each other, and now we’re married.” There’s Gerwald of the Coin (Gerwald Van de Munt) for ya folks. Epitome of Dutch frankness.
Today was as full as the cow’s 100% full milk.
- Day 9: Of Culture and Luck
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Day 9: Of Culture and Luck
Sunday - May 15, 2011
The first week is done (already?). Now, it’s time to take a breather.
As a rightful break from chasing stories all week, today we indulged ourselves in a cultural immersion of sorts. Touching on different aspects of the Dutch culture, we had yet another full day ahead, but this time with a diverse mix of tourist spots, and authentic Dutch culture.
We’re really very lucky. Because, for the following reasons, I think this was really the best time to go to Holland:
1.) Flower Power
Spring time can only mean one thing for the Dutch: their famous Tulips are in bloom. And the destination for the day, was in the world’s Louvre of Tulips: Holland’s very own, very huge and very beautiful Tulip garden, the Keukenhoef. Ans met us at the Schipol airport and accompanied us going there by bus.
Abound with tourists, the place was pretty packed and lively. But not nearly as many as the flowers! Seriously, I had never seen so many in my life! They all looked so blooming, and fresh and robust. Arranged in groups, the whole area must look colorful in bird’s eye view. And a colorful environment can only mean one thing: Excessive Photo Ops!
Dear Ma’am Chay, Sir Sev has given up on us.
Tita Gigi takes a whiff of the Tulips
Sir Sev and Ma’am Gigi. Our parents for the trip.
The Not-Thorn among the Not-Roses
Hihi. One of my few lady-like moments.
CLOOOOG.
2.) World Press Photo Exhibit
Every year, Amsterdam holds the world’s biggest photography contest. The winning photographs get to be displayed in Oude Kerk (The Old Church, which is ironically in the middle of the Red Light District). We were lucky enough to catch the exhibit, and Lokaalmondiaal has kindly given us free tickets for it.
There were very many amazing photos. Most of them had to do with calamities in Africa, and riots in the Middle East. I was very impressed with them and wondered how the photographers captured those moments in a very chaotic setting. To be able to do that must not only take a lot of skill, but courage too.
My favorite was a photo of several places in Amsterdam but with a twist. A small old photo of a place, was set against the background of a bigger photo, smack right where the border of the small photo ended. It’s quite hard to visualize, and it’s too bad that I forgot to take a photo of it, but the overall effect looked like a fusion of the old version and the new version of the place all in one photo.
The World Press Photo Exhibit at the Oude Kerk.
3.) Football Frenzy
Finally, this was the time of the year when the annual national football matches in Holland peak in the finals matches. Luckily for us, we got to see what Amsterdam was like, on a winning game day. But not just any game, the Championship game!
Winning against team Twente, the whole of Amsterdam was tons more wild than an Araneta Coliseum in a championship game of Ateneo vs. La Salle. Shards of broken glass from restaurants lay scattered at the street, while men and women loudly chant and sing everywhere. It would vary from “Kampione!” (Presumably some language for Champion) or “Amsterdam! Amsterdam! Amsterdam!”
Wild Winners!
Chanting Victory!
Kampione!
While we were walking the streets going to the Anne Frank Museum (our next stop), we even got caught in the middle of a chanting group. One group randomly started a chant, and then the group behind us started answering. Moments later, it escalated into even more exuberance as they raised their arms up in the air, hands curled into fists and again shouting “Kampione!”
Dav didn’t go with us that day because he had an interview with Joma Sison in Utrecht. But afterwards though, he caught up with the celebrations in Amsterdam and told us that there was merriment at the Dam Square complete with a bonfire. Too bad we weren’t able to go, because we went straight to the House of Anne Frank right after the World Press Photo Exhibit.
4.) The House of Anne Frank
Although, the visit to Anne Frank’s House isn’t really part of the list of things you can only do in Amsterdam in the Spring, I still felt very lucky having visited this house. But not because I’ve been dying to go here, I have not even read the book yet. But because in going here, I am reminded of how lucky I am to be born in a time where I can freely speak my mind.
There was a part in the museum wall that displayed a quote from the book in bold letters: I long to ride a bike, dance, whistle, look at the world, feel young and know that I am free.
I have felt all those in the past week alone. It felt very invigorating, and overwhelming. I could not imagine not being able to let those out freely.
How do you liberate yourself from captivity?
Anne Frank did it with writing. And with that alone, I felt connected to her. In a world of torment, writing was her solace, the comfort that kept her going as if the ink from her pen was the blood that flowed through her veins. With this I am reminded, of what got me started in journalism in the first place: through the simple joys of writing. I am reminded of the freedom felt when you’ve put a word to how you feel. Because only when you can define something, give it meaning, can you know it exists.
I think it was the perfect timing for me to be reminded of that, especially now at a time in my life when I just write to get a grade. At the very end of the museum, I found out that Anne wanted to be a journalist. But she died in a concentration camp after they were betrayed, and their hideout had been found out.
Another reason to pursue this passion. To do it for those who can’t. To do it for those whose luck don’t have yours.
- Day 8: Crossing a Border or Two
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Day 8: Crossing a Border or Two
Saturday - May 14,2011
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Dear Ma’am Chay,
Sir Sev is asleep. So we went to Belgium and Germany. At the same time.
———————-
I never thought it was possible to bike in a cave. Because number 1: It’s a cave. There’s really no trumping that reason alone.
But apparently it was, and we were on our way to try it! I have to admit, this was more than I asked for. All I wanted was to get a taste of city-biking, but I ended up biking in a park as well. And now, in a cave! I was a bit nervous though, because I’m slightly claustrophobic. But excitement overpowered the fear a million times over! Pia, Janna and Kai were obviously feeling the same way too, because they hadn’t slept through the whole ride. As for me, the early call time preceded by the tiring day yesterday was more than enough to beat me down through half the trip to Maastricht. I woke up though to the sound of even more high-pitched squeals. Apparently, we were to have a little side trip in Belgium later! I could taste the Belgian chocolates already!
Our chaperone/tour guide for the day was by the way none other than:
Joost the Boss! And Jolijn his Lovely Lover.
Joost was Jolijn’s super jolly boyfriend, who was kind enough to drive us to Maastricht and join us in our cave-biking escapade. He was also generous enough to lend us some of his sweaters, as the cave was about 10 degrees cold.
Finally, we were in Maastricht. It was known to be a little bit different from the other Dutch cities, and now I knew why. Their houses made of thicker bricks and topped by steeper, more angular roofs were not the typical, square-patterned rectangular houses you saw in Amsterdam. But it wasn’t just that. According to Jolijn, this town, being closer to Belgium, was already a bit influenced by the Belgians.
The landscape here was beautiful though, with even more fields of green! It was noticeably more hilly too. I remembered what my interviewee, Malaya had told me, that the Dutch team would train here for uphill cycling. Indeed, we passed by a bunch of uniformed cyclists along the way.
We arrived at the cave-biking place, and 163 staircase steps down later, we were in a dimly-lit, powdery cave. I forgot the name of our guide, but he explained a bit of the rules and got our valuables.
Photos by Pia Ranada.
163 steps!
Further down the abyss
Pictures first!
I was really impressed with their emergency safety tips. They even had a back-up plan should he have an accident and pass out. There was a map in his bag, and there were numbers on the wall which we would follow to eventually lead us to a telephone. Pretty cool. He mentioned too that our bikes were especially made for cave-biking because it had no chains.
I thought their mechanism for checking the members during the ride was pretty clever too. The guide would call out an assigned point person who was to ride at the tail of the group. We would each say his name, until when it reaches him, he was to shout ‘complete!’ and everyone would pass it back along until it reaches the guide.
We were with a group of funny English men and women from which came our supposedly ‘point person’. The famous Will. Finally we started cycling, and just 5 minutes into the ride, after our guide had called out ‘Will!’, somebody blurted, “Will’s lost!” It was hilarious! But that was the first and last time that happened.
We biked through a 70 km stretch of a winding cave with bumpy paths. It was super cool! Both literally and figuratively. Although, thanks to Joost’s thick sweater, I only felt it with my fingertips. Some parts were narrow, while some were wide enough to fit two groups. Occasionally, we’d run into them, and so we had to stay on one side of the lane which was a bit difficult. At times we also had to duck so low, that my helmet hit the ceiling once because of not ducking enough. I heard one of the tall English guys behind us say: “This is the time it pays to be short!” I laughed, and said, “Oo nga Janna! (Yes Janna!)”, but I don’t know if she heard hihihi.
It was all very thrilling! There was no light available save for the built-in lamps of our bikes, and they cast wavering shadows on the walls as we rode our way through the cave. We had to pedal our way steep uphill terrain, bumpy downhill ones, sharp right-turns and left turns.
But there were a lot of funny moments in between. Once, when Janna didn’t answer after I said “Will!” I immediately changed it to “Janna??”. She answered after a while, then I just laughed. There was also another time when I laughed so hard I was almost thrown off balanced because the English guy behind Janna (Janna was behind me) started singing to Queen’s “I want to ride my bicycle I want to ride my biiiike!” It was all very amusing. I found it very hard to concentrate. In between those, we kept calling out Will’s name, thankfully, our group stayed in tact.
After probably an hour or so, we stopped in this room-like area of the cave, where our guide discussed a little trivia about the cave. He told us that this part (and actually the whole of the Netherlands), was underwater hundreds of years ago, and showed us some shark teeth fossils to prove it. That was apparently why that cave was rich in limestone, where, people much later, would get their supply.
Cave-bikers! Photo by Janna Estares
The whole gang. Spot Will.
Like a Boss
It’s true what they say that time flies when you’re having so much fun. Before you knew it, we saw dim light at the end of the tunnel, and we were back to where we started. I thought an hour and a half in a cave was long, but it felt very very short! Our 163-step staircase climb back up I think took even longer!
We were all pretty tired afterwards, but there was no time to waste when your next stop is another country! So after Pia asked the employees some questions about cave-biking, it was off to Belgium, and the three-country point!
Back in the Philippines, we were dampened when we found out that we weren’t allowed to go to any other country. But when Lokaalmondiaal eventually allowed us to go to Paris though, we were psyched! But now Belgium AND Germany at the same time? Three big birds in one stone!
We first stopped at the three country point, were Belgium, Germany and the Netherlands supposedly intersected. Amusingly enough, we got “Welcome to Belgique” and “Welcome to Deutchland” messages on our phones when we got there. The three-country point was like a park, with a restaurant, souvenir shops, and of course, the very area where the flags of the three countries were erected. It was fronting a circular cement divided into three triangles. Each was supposedly already the area of the country.
In three countries at once. Oh yeah.
Hugging the German Tree
Cave-biking, Border-crossing Journalists! (Photo by Janna Estares)
There was also a labyrinth! Ever since I read Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, I had always wanted to go to one, so this was another scratch-off-the-bucket-list moment for me. When we got in, it took us a while, to get back out, because it really was very puzzling. Can you spell aMAZE-ing?
In the middle of the labyrinth. Enhancing Kai’s photo. (Photo by Kai Francisco, taken by Janna Estares)
A cute little kid we met at the labyrinth! (Photo by Janna Estares)
Up until that point, we had only been munching on little pieces of bread we had bought from the grocery. Again the sun’s presence was deceiving, it was actually 6 pm already. But first, where to eat dinner? Belgium or Germany? Gee. We get to pick a country. How very awesome.
But Belgian fries trumped German sausages by a unanimous decision. So we were off to finding a friterie (a snack bar) in Belgium!
Welcome to Belgium! Save for the sign, it’s not much different from Maastricht. (c) Kai Francisco
We were in Malonia, an area in Belgium heavily influenced by the French. Along the way, we got lost trying to find a friterie. Luckily, Jolijn and Joost know a bit of French, so they asked this French couple and they lead us to this classy-looking restaurant beside a beautiful cathedral.
A Beautiful Belgian Cathedral
The food here though, was quite expensive, so we went to another one instead, in Berneau Dalhelm, in a place which I unfortunately forgot the name. But the Belgian fries are to die for!
….to die for die for die for (echo) Photo by Janna Estares
Well, I hate to say it, but the day had to end. We were all pretty full in the ride back home—both food and experience wise. The sun was high up, which made the landscape even more beautiful. We wanted to match it with an equally awesome European soundtrack, but the first thing that came out of Pia’s iPod shuffle was Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus. But we were singing along with it nonetheless, changing USA to Netherlands. It was so hilarious! Joost wanted to hear some Filipino music, so I played some of my E-heads songs, starting with what fit the current mood: “Overdrive”. And we all just fell silent, relishing the moments of our cave-biking, border-crossing day. One of the days we will definitely look back to and tell our grandchildren about.
- Day 7: Only in The Netherlands
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Day 7: Only in The Netherlands
Friday - May 13, 2011
The Dutch are widely known for their frankness, that pervades even in their attitude. In theory, I understand this concept from what little experience I have with them. But since we’ve all grown to be really good friends with our buddies, I hardly consider our moments of sarcasm a result of this attitude. So, I think today, was the first time I actually experiened the full blast of it—ironically from a Filipina.
Her name was Mercy, the mother of my second interviewe (a Filipino-Dutch competitive cyclist), Malaya. I was to interview Malaya today in their house in Delft for my Dutch cycling story. I had to go alone again this time—both in the train and in the interview—because Heleen had to go to her family up north. No worries, I’m a pro. *insert egotistic smirk. Anyway, when Malaya picked me up at the Delft train station though, I noticed the same mechanism of instant friendship.
Minutes later we arrived at their house, and I met Ms. Mercy. Now I’m not particularly sensitive to hospitality issues, but this time I guess was just caught off guard. When I got in, she shook my hand, and sort of looked at me meticulously like she was taken aback with the presence of another ‘pure’ Filipino in the house.
After telling her that I was the student who would interview her son, she welcomed me and then got back to her work in her computer. It wasn’t bad actually, it just wasn’t very Filipino either. I mean, I’m not big on racial stereotypes, but I thought it strange. I couldn’t help but compare her with how we were welcomed at a party in Utrecht.
It wasn’t long before I understood though, because my interview with Malaya drifted from life as a competitive cyclist, to living life as a dual citizen. We ended up talking much about Dutch culture and how he found it coping when he’d go back to the Philippines. This is when Ms. Mercy shared a lot of insights about adapting.
“I mean it’s difficult at first when you’re used to always watching your words back at home. And then your kids grow up to talk back to you, and it hurts, but you have no one to tell them that’s wrong, because that’s their culture here. So it takes a while to get used to,” she said.
That really struck me. And then it hit me. Of course, the lack of ‘Filipino flavor’ in her hospitality comes from the fact that she’s lived her for about 30 years now, with only her values and attitude to turn to, to remind her a bit of home. But since Filipinos were supposedly good at adapting into other cultures, then she thoroughly adapted the Dutch way of life—what with her sons growing up more and more to be Dutch everyday. My mom is an OFW in the U.S., but as strong-willed as she is, I’m still thankful that she has many Filipino companions there with her to give her a piece of home. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Ms. Mercy detached from all she’d known, to come here and raise her children in an entirely different culture.
She came from Bukidnon, met and married her Dutch husband there back in the 1980’s. But after having their two sons—Malaya and his younger brother Man Man—they had to leave for several reasons. First because the contract of her husband’s job was finished, and next because it wasn’t very safe anymore for them then because of the Marcos era. This is a very interesting coincidence with Cecilia Aquino’s story. They left the Philippines back in the 80’s, because her father thought the Philippines wasn’t the best place to be an Aquino at that time. I wondered if this could be an angle I can work with for a story on the two of them: What were the Filipinos who fled from the Marcos era like now?
The initially unfortunate reason for leaving turned out to be a good opportunity for Cecilia and Malaya to get good education elsewhere and learn a different culture. Now, armed with that advantage, they’re both successful people. I just recently read Malcolm Gladwell’s ”Outliers” which basically breaks down in detail the formula for success. One of it includes the extraordinary opportunities given to people. I wondered that of all the evil the Marcoses have brought upon our country, could the fact that it left some no choice but to flee be the one good thing that it brought? Anyway, just a thought.
Meanwhile back to the interview, I found myself so engrossed in our conversation that I hardly noticed it was nearly 2:00 p.m. (The interview started at 12). Armed with interviewing tips from Ma’am Chay’s class, I immediately, yet subtly (or I hope it was subtle) veered our interview back to the remaining questions I still had to ask Malaya about competitive cycling. After everything was done, I bade goodbye to them and Ms. Mercy asked me for my contact numbers if ever she might drop by Mindanao some time. (Funny how we were talking as if Bukidnon was just next door to the Netherlands.) Malaya took me back to the train station, where I’d head back to Amsterdam Central.
I thought about the earlier interview more in the train. I suddenly missed my own mom. The sacrifice she made in leaving her comfort zone to make sure my siblings and I would be able to follow our dreams was for me more heroic than any Jose Rizal alive. This trip wouldn’t have been possible for me without her, and now here I was learning about Filipino integration in another culture because of her. The funny ironies of life.
Anyway, when I got back to Amsterdam I got lost again. It turned out that I did get off at the right avenue, but at the wrong portion of it. If I had been in Katipunan, our hostel was near McDo, and I was in Mercury Drug. Cheers to another Christopher Columbus moment! I just relished the moment of exploring the uncharted territory of Keizersgracht so that one day I could fool my grandchildren and tell them, I sailed the seven seas of Keizersgracht! And they would believe me. But finally,I got to the right area so it was fantasy over, and back to Hans Brinker for me. At that point Kai had already been waiting for an hour, but at least we had some time left to squeeze in a little tour around the city…on two wheels!
Cycling around Amsterdam was so amazing! The city view on wheels is even more beautiful, as we rush past classic European architecture in a blur. I felt like a pro alongside other cyclists, stopping for the red lights, speeding up for the greens. And then a honk from behind would remind me that I wasn’t. Oops, too slow! It would take a bit more getting used to I guess. I mean after all, the Dutch have been cycling all their lives.
I be chillin on two wheels.
Again.
Riding like a pro
If I had all the money in the world, I would build bicycle roads in the Philippines so we could adapt this culture. Seriously! What could be better than riding a bike to your destination? You were at your own pace, it’s free, and very environmental-friendly! Calling policy-makers of the Philippines.
Unfortunately, our little bike tour had to end. Because it was now time for Boris to tour us to Amsterdam’s very own Chinatown, and of course, the famous Red Light District!
Chinatown was interestingly devoid of slit-eyed, fair-skinned folks one would expect to see. But this being a European Chinatown might have something to do with it. At least we got to see some though in the Chinese restaurant we ate dinner in later.
Amsterdam’s Chinatown
Happy because we just ate rice.
A cool narrow alleyway.
We carried on with the tour after eating, and before you know it, after turning in an alleyway we were in the Red Light District. Skimpily-clad voluptuous women were displaying themselves in windows, on either side of the alley. Woah. Up front and center. Only in Amsterdam folks.
The highlight of that tour was when I learned one of the most important When-In-Amsterdam lessons. Apparently, taking pictures wasn’t allowed. I knew that, but I didn’t know they were VERY STRICT about it. I’ll admit it was the eager tourist in me that took over my better judgment. So I hung my camera on my shoulder while sneakily clicking on it. It worked the first time though, because none of them noticed me. But in the next alley, this voluptuous, African, afro-haired woman apparently saw me, because the next thing I knew, I was hit in the head with a chocolate bar. I saw her go out of her window, but I thought she had a customer. So I stopped clicking my camera then. When I looked back, she was pointing her finger at me and muttering angrily in Dutch. Ok. LESSON LEARNED. Do NOT ever take a photo of a prostitute. Or at least don’t get caught? Unless you want a free candy bar.
One of my successful sneaky shots. Lesson still learned though.
The Red Light District.
After that, Boris had to go home to his little baby boy, and Sir Sev, Ma’am Gigi and Dav went back to Hans Brinker. The five of us, along with Reinilde and Ans, went to have some drinks at this cool-looking Cuban Resto-Bar where had a good, chill time to end the day.
And then we went to a coffeeshop.
The End.
Cheers!
- Day 6: First Story Day
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Day 6: First Story Day
Thursday - May 12, 2011
Today is the first day we pursued our stories! Although the others had already started with some interviews, today will be my first time, for my Dutch cycling story.
I also scratched out the second entry on my Holland bucket list, which is to ride the train alone. Because while today had no itinerary to follow, I had no buddy either—on the train going to Rotterdam at least. Heleen stays at Ede-Wageningen which is very far from Amsterdam so we agreed to meet at Rotterdam Central instead. I was very excited!
Now, I’m not the best when it comes to following instructions, because I have the unfortunate talent of misunderstanding things, what more if it’s Dutch. But surprisingly, I wasn’t scared at all. I was thrilled at the idea of riding on the train alone in a foreign country. But I think I was pretty much consoled with the fact people here at least spoke English, so how bad could it get? Well everyone spoke English, except apparently telephone operators.
The funniest part of the day was when Kai and I tried to figure out how to reload our phones. Lesson number 7: Phone operators do not speak English, AT ALL. Kai also had an interview in The Hague that day, so we decided to go to Amsterdam Central station together to reload our phones and our tram chip cards.
Little did we know, that reloading was not very tourist friendly. The woman that would originally say ‘Your account balance is…’ may as well have been speaking Parseltongue or something. We tried to ask for help but the best we got was the woman on the Information desk, who said:
“Just follow the instructions. What do you want me to do? Do it for you?”
Ok. Enough said. My bad for thinking people on the information desk can give you information.
We got one saleslady to load it for me though, but she didn’t explain what the auto voice was saying. So Kai and I put our best thinking caps on to figure it out ourselves.
I felt funnily ridiculous, in trying to catch for clues, like I didn’t at all come from one of the top universities in the Philippines. It wasn’t a very ego-boosting moment for the both of us, but it was hilarious. Finally, we figured out that what the woman might be saying press 1 for something or press 2 to reload, because Kai noticed a pattern in her phrasing and I recognized eyn and tsvei. So I pressed 2, and entered my code and the voila! The next thing you know I was reloaded! The timing of learning numbers 11 to 20 from Rosa yesterday couldn’t have been perfect.
Up to this point, everyday had been an adventure. So frankly, I enjoyed my little quiet time on the train. I was psyching myself out for the interview, because after months of preparing for it, it was finally happening. I was excited for the story as well. Ever since the first leg, I knew I wanted to write something about the Dutch cycling culture, but of course I had to find a different angle for the Dutch audience. So I decided to focus it on how the Dutch find cycling in the Philippines.
I arrived at Rotterdam Central and met Heleen on the platform. We met Martin across the street. He was in his van that was easy to spot since it had his company’s name on it. Finally, I met my first interviewee! It was a little bizarre for me to have finally met him in person after months of purely electronic conversation. This must be how Heleen and Reinilde felt when they first met Thad Adri, the transgender they interviewed in the Philippines.
I liked it that his demeanor matched the easy-going vibe he gave off in the e-mails. I don’t know if it was normal in the Dutch culture, but as he was driving to his house, the three of us were chatting up like old friends. Forget the fact that we all just met, and that this was an interview. Ah the good parts of Dutch frankness.
Martin Langevoord is by the way is the co-author of the book Cycling in the Philippines. It’s the only cycling guidebook ever written in this country, and it’s quite ironic that two foreigners authored it.
Anyway, minutes later we arrived at his house. Scratching off another to-do item which was to go inside one of those ‘tall houses’ (my own term), I entered and climbed another one of those winding staircases. Typically Dutch I suppose. The house was warm and cozy inside. The mix of wooden and simple furniture matched Martin’s ‘chill’ and outdoorsy personality. On the wall, he had beautiful pictures of his previous cycling trips to countries like Pakistan and Tajikistan, tell-tales of his well-traveled character. He cycles around Asia, and his next stop this August is in India. But what’s interesting is that cycling in the Philippines is what got him started with his whole feat.
He was tanned and quite buff—a mark of his adventurous lifestyle. He had a raspy booming voice, like an old jazz singer. While talking he offered us some coffee, and then I noticed he had sachets of Milo, Nescafe, Cofee Mate hanging on his kitchen wall.
Martin Langevoord. Avid Cyclist.
My First Interview!
‘Oh great, now is the perfect time to finally use them,’ he said.
It was very amusing because on one of his cycling trips in the Philippines recently, he just bought them all in a sari-sari store just for the sake of it. But he had never used them before. Because he lived in Cebu while he was in the Philippines, I gave him dried mangoes and he loved it. He told me some funny stories about his cycling escapades in the Philippines. One of them involved a friend of his getting his hair cut under a coconut tree while they were having a break from biking in the countryside.
Heleen and I especially found his current work interesting. His company is called ‘Rope Access’, which as the name obviously suggests, was about accessing the parts of construction areas that was too inaccessible for ordinary construction workers or apparatus. Not for him and his guys, because apparently they do the dirty work of rapelling downward a narrow tunnel or climbing up very high heights.
Overall, the interview went well. He was a great interviewee, which made me really determined to make a good story out of this. I would have liked to stay and chat more, but I had another interview, so we bade goodbye and it was off to The Hague for me.
After buying a couple of stroopwafels in the supermarket, Heleen bought me a ticket for The Hague. Again, I had to travel alone to meet with Kai in The Hague for our interview with Cecilia Aquino. I felt like I could really get used to travelling alone in this country. When I arrived at the Hague, Kai and I squealed about it for a while, like the little adventure-craved ignorants that we were. And as expected, we got lost again. But for the vain people that we are, we took that as an opportunity to fake candid ‘getting lost’ photos again.
The posing is fake, but getting lost was real.
Someone call this lost little girl’s parents.
In any case, we got to our destination earlier so we waited it out on the street, even when Cecilia and her husband had arrived already. Lesson number 8: When in Holland, do as the Dutch do. So be on time, not early or late. So we were on time.
Cecilia’s French husband welcomed us in. I was hoping it was because she was preparing dinner for us or something. But I’m forgetting that was the Filipino way. Of course the Dutch way would be:
‘Can I get you some drinks?’ Right on cue Mr. Cecilia’s husband.
But anyway, she got down a little while later and we finally started the interview. She used to co-host the show West International, a show that helped expatriates adapt in the Netherlands. I wanted to do a profile on her, while Kai thought she might give good insights about integration. For a lawyer she was cool and collected, but fittingly eloquent. She was pretty jolly too, and she seemed to know a lot. She used to intern at the peace palace, which I thought was amazing for an internship. I thought she probably felt the same way I feel about this internship now. :)
Anyway, when she found out we haven’t been there yet, she was kind enough to take us there and drop us off at the station too. Another successful interview, with a little unexpected side trip. This day just keeps getting better. But the sun’s presence was deceiving since it was actually already 9:00. Kai and I still had to catch up with the meeting with Sanne. So it was off to Amsterdam central again.
The Hague Peace Palace
The Eternal Flame of Peace
In the train Kai and I kept going on about how cool it was to travel alone. We also talked a lot about what we wanted to do after we graduate. It was scary to think that after this program is over, before we know it, we’ll be graduating. Everything is just moving so fast. Life really can get by when you don’t notice, just like this train. #drama
We caught up with the others in Amsterdam. They were halfway done with the meeting but we were just in time to consult with Sanne. I was surprised with how young Sanne looked like. I saw her on Facebook already a couple of times, but up close, she looked like an innocent Barbie. Not the stereotypical fierce magazine editor. But then I realized, that her young age all the more underscored the fact that she was good, because Lokaalmondiaal had enough faith in her talent to disregard her youth. Respect automatically elevated. I liked how she was direct with our stories. This time, it’s not just with being Dutch, but being an editor as well.
Well, I hope all our stories turn out great. So far so good, and with our interviews today, I went back to Hans Brinker with a renewed sense of hope and thrill for my stories.
- Day 5: Finally Jemsterdam
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Day 5: Finally Jemsterdam
Wednesday - May 11, 2011
First impressions do NOT last. I finally debunked that age-old saying, along with last night’s first impressions because today, we were going to explore the more cultural side of Amsterdam. And where better to start than its very own center for museums, aptly called the Museum Plein.
The Museum Plein.
The Van Gogh Museum at the Museum Plein.
After last night’s mini Olympics with the luggages, it was good that we finally had a later call time. Hans Brinker in the morning was hilariously peaceful, mainly because it’s hard to imagine the lively, rowdy place that it was last night. Gerwald met us at our Hostel at around 11, and lead us to Museum Plein. The walk allowed me to take in Amsterdam even better.
When we got there, I found out that it was also where the famous ’I Amsterdam’ photo spot for tourists is located, so we all stopped a bit for photos. I climbed on top of one of the letters with gusto, in commemmoration of one bright Saturday morning six years ago. Ten mischievous little 14-year olds were huddled in a room after a long day of making a school project. They were illegally about to watch their first R-rated film, a funny satire about Europe called the Eurotrip. A few of them vowed that one day they would go to Amsterdam to see for themselves the controversial fuss over the land of legal marijuana. Now, even if only a few of them remember that day, I proudly sit on top of this letter to represent those 9, and finally live up to the name Jemsterdam.
Kicking off the cultural date with a lunch concert , we headed straight for the Gebouw concert hall, just across the ‘I Amsterdam’ field. This is where Kai got her poser on, and hired me as her photographer. So I took some shots of her supposedly ‘candidly’ walking on a pedestrian lane.
Faking a Candid on the Pedestrian Lane. Oh Kai. Hahaha.
While waiting in line, we met an old woman who taught medical surgery at the University of Amsterdam graduate school. She recognized us for being Filipinos. I initially figured it was because of our being the only bunch of brown skins in a handful of white ones in that room. But then we could’ve probably passed off as Indonesians or Malaysians. I guess it really takes one to know one. She had been living in the Netherlands for 30 years already, and every Wednesday she goes to the free concerts held here in Gebouw.
The doors opened and amidst the eager crowd, we rush in. It was beautiful inside the concert hall, nicely lit with especially with the chandelier on top of the stage. Engraved on the walls are names of famous musicians through the ages like Bach and Mozart. Indeed, moments later, the pianist would pieces from Bach and Debussy as well. The pianist was good. He played flawlessly, although that wasn’t a surprise given that Gerwald described him as one of Holland’s best pianists—also world-renowned.
After the concert, the group split into two. Pia, Jio and I would go to de Volkstrant, one of the leading Dutch newspapers where Sven was an intern. The rest would go to NOS broadcasting corporation. Rosa lead the way, and in between riding the tram and getting a bit lost, she taught me how to count from numbers 11 to 20 (I was taught 1 to 10 during the first leg of the program) and how to say ‘Ostenburghergracht’ (Jio cleverly resolved to just say Austin-burger-crocs to easily remember it).
Spotted: A Windmill up close. (while getting lost on the way to de Volkstrant)
A topless man amidst the cold. I salute you.
We finally arrived at de Volkstrant. I was awed. It was very cool! The architecture had a modern artsy feel. Its fiber glass walls gave it a sharp edgy look. But to balance it out was the very homey interior. Carpeted, and enclosed in alternating walls of orange, beige and white, the room gave out a ‘you’re at home, but we mean business’ vibe. Sven toured us around the different sections of the paper like the features section, the political and the economic.
Sven called this the Media Island.
The Features Section.
Presumably the story conference room—with cool wall art.
One of the editors.
Sven, Pia and I at de Volkstrant. (photo by Jio Igual)
We were able to talk with some of the journalists there too. Pia had her first interview with the one of the main editors (who, if I may say so was quite handsome haha). He sounded very smart as he talked about his opinion on the right to offend. Jio also interviewed the sports editor about his Jason de Jong story. He also knew a lot. Finally we also talked to head of foreign correspondent who was mainly discussing the things they do when it comes to international reporting. He said they had correspondents from all over the world, but only had one in Indonesia to report about Southeast Asia happenings.
Recalling our discussion in the embassy yesterday about Philippine representation I asked him what the criteria was for a country to make it to their headlines—or even sidebars. He answered that anything relevant to the country or significant to the world. Well, relevance is textbook journalism. But it’s just too bad we were only widely known for the typical, and formulaic Mindanao trouble with the Muslims, typhoons or political trouble. But for a country actually full of these, how can I best present the Philippines in a positive light? Another point to ponder. Well anyway onto the boat!
Literary purists could punish me, but I will gladly claim that if today was a story, its climax is also the end. We went boating around the city. For someone who had always had this city on her bucket list of places, this part would be just too much for words. Let the pictures speak for themselves.
(Because really, with each picture I feel the same way, the following pictures will all have the same title: “Overwhelming happiness on a boat.”)
First 2 photos by Jio Igual.
- Day 4: Twists and Trains
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Day 4: Twists and Trains
Tuesday - May 10, 2011
The title gives it away. Today was all about twists. But one thing I never stop learning in the pursuit of my passion for journalism is how to twist yourself along with the unexpected twists of daily life. Flexibility has become a word I am completely no stranger to now, and this exchange program has done its part in teaching me more of it. From the first leg of crazy mountain escapades (See Day 8-9: The Aeta Adventure), and now today. At this point in the program—maybe also in my life—I think I just moved up a notch in the flexibility scale, just a little closer now to being a Spartan.
As all tricky days in this program goes, it started out normally enough. Ste’fan picked us up from our Hostel and led us to the tram stop going to Arnhem Central. Again with the hurried walking, but I’d gotten used to it by now, along with the cold of course, which is slightly a bit colder again today.
Today, Heleen was the buddy assigned to pick us up at the Ede-Wageningen station where we would head on to the Philippine Embassy in The Hague. Now, Dutch lesson number 5 for this trip: trains are scheduled by the minute. Number 6: They are always on time. This is why when they are not, something is usually terribly wrong—something as grave as someone jumping off the platform and onto the tracks. This was what happened and the tracks our train was on was now rendered impassable. As shocking as the accident was, we had only but a moment to really think about it. We still had a another train to catch.
We had to get off at the Ede-Wageningen station instead where we would meet Heleen and switch to another train going to The Hague. But because the train system has slightly been messed up by one unavailable track, there were a lot of people on our stop. We ended up missing the train that would take us on time, to our first meeting with the NGO Mensen et Missie (People with a mission).
“It’s ok. Let’s be flexible. We cannot be blamed if we missed the meeting because what happened was unexpected,” Sir Sev said to Heleen. And that familiar word pops up again.
(The following pictures are stolen from Jio)
Happily waiting for the next train. Despite the err…earlier accident.
With my buddy Heleen!
At The Hague Central Station
We arrived at The Hague station, and met Rosa, one of the Lokaalmondiaal interns. We took a tram, and it wasn’t long until we were in the street where the most embassies of different nations were located. If it wasn’t for the flag outside, the Philippine embassy could pass as a house. I have always wondered what the interior of one of those tall houses looked like, so I guess this could count as a preview. We went in, climbed a winding staircase, and finally settled in the room where we would hold the meeting.
We had stroopwafels and coffee. It was my first time again to taste my favorite of Holland’s delicacies, which was just perfect again to ward off the bit of cold left in my fingertips. Then, Ms. Cynthia Pelayo, the 3rd secretary of the Embassy, proceeded on to a presentation of what the embassy does here in the Netherlands. As expected, their hands were quite full of responsibilities here, as the only embassy in the Netherlands for Filipinos. They were in charge of course of processing and fixing immigration issues of the Filipinos there. One that struck me though was when they raised one of their main goals for Filipinos in the Netherlands: representation. This is something very very important for them according to Ms. Pelayo, but it was difficult to paint a good picture of a country mostly known for its typhoons, or political troubles. So she advised us that it would help to keep that in mind, while writing our stories.
The Delegation in The Hague. (also from Jio)
We capped the meeting off with some delicious risotto and pizza, and then cake for dessert. Then Janna, Jio, Dav and I went with Heleen to Utrecht to meet up with Pia and Gerwald while Kai had to rush off to an interview.
Utrecht was so beautiful! I considered it officially my first full blast encounter with a European city. Arnhem of course, was beautiful and serene, but it reminded me a little of Baguio. Here in Utrecht you could really see up close the pattern of Dutch arhitecture. Tall, rectangular buildings stood side by side, forming a facade of a bordered square patterns with its windows and doors. This seems to be typically dutch.
(The following pictures are mine)
Meanwhile, Jio and Dav decided to kill time in what we would later find out to be a famous Church-turned-bar in Utrecht. Pia, Janna and I did a little exploring. We were supposed to climb the tower of St. Martin’s cathedral, but it was closed for tours that day, so we ended up just taking loads of pictures.
St. Martin’s Cathedral
Janna. the Poser. :D
After an hour or so, we met up again with Gerwald and Heleen at the Utrecht square (I made up the name) near the station and headed off to Ede. There was still a bit of time to kill, and I don’t know what good spirit took over Ans, but she decided to host a little pancake party at her student house before we went to Christeljke Hogeschool. In my mind, “Ans, is that you?”. Just kidding :D But the pancakes were delicious!
Post-Pancake Fest in Ans’ House.
We were then off to Ede, back to Christeljke Hogeschool where we were to watch a BBC documentary, again from Mr. Snel’s class. It was entitled ‘The Virtual Revolution’, a documentary about how the Internet has evolved, and how it has been changing our lives. It was very long, and heavily overloaded with information, but admittedly even in a sleepy state I found it very interesting. It first tackled the basic subject of how it was changing our lives, then twisted it into how WE in turn were changing the Internet. Really interesting stuff. But while we’re now back to the topic of twists, let me walk you through the biggest twist of the day: going to Amsterdam with our luggages via trains and trams.
You’d think that a long peaceful, ordinary day of meeting people or watching movies, would cap off the same way. But no, of course not. Not in this exchange program, nor in this profession.
I wasn’t too keen on the idea, but like what my good friend Nike’ said: Just Do It. So we picked up our luggages from Bartho’s office and dropped the heavy ones off in Reinilde’s car. She would take it to Arnhem Central station while we dragged the other ones with us as we hurriedly walked to catch the train to Amsterdam. Seriously, the whole ordeal felt like it was one of those reality obstacle course shows in which the goal was to get the luggages to Amsterdam. First obstacle: the stairs. Lug lug lug go the luggages as we drag them up laboriously.
Second obstacle: getting the luggages in the train. I could just hear the crowd in the stadium cheering: “Go Team Quezon-Ede! Toss that luggage in the train like a boss!” Third: Getting them out of the train. Same story.
Finally, we were in Amsterdam central station. We went out, luggages still in hand, and boom there goes my heart (dramatic line may be attributed to my history with Amsterdam, to be elaborated in later posts). Wow. I was finally in Amsterdam. But I had no time to take it in as we hurried to the tram stops. Fourth obstacle: Getting the luggages in the crowded trams. As we rode through the main road of the city, I momentarily forgot about the luggage obstacle course I was inventing in my head. I was just taking in the whole city, the lights, the tall rectangular houses and buildings I had a preview of earlier in Utrecht. The pictures I used to just look at finally came to life.
Our tram stopped, and so our bag-dragging feat carried on. We walked to our Hostel—about the distance of Katipunan Avenue—in the cold, blistering night. But I was in Amsterdam :D It doesn’t end there though.
On our way to our Hostel, we passed by a place called the “Church” which had posters of topless brawny men. Uhm. Okaaay. Interesting. Finally we arrived at a place with a big glowing label that spelled “Hel”. Apparently the letters O and T in between was missing.
Welcome to Hans Brinker.
The door automatically slides open. I entered, absentmindedly pulling my luggages while surveying the room.
I blinked.
A lobby, with white floors, two sets of blue elevator doors in front and a staircase on either side.
Zooming in to the left, and another blink.
Bordered within graffitti laden black walls shone under black neon lights, the staircase to the left seems to lead down to a room blasting out loud dance music. The door was labeled ‘Disco House’.
Further left.
A bigger, more dimly lit room. Lots of people, boisterous laughter, and a silhouette of bar with towering alcohol drinks.
But before I am completely at a loss for words we approach the receptionist.
Wearing messy, rocker pigtails, and a deeply etched, thick, black eyeliner and blood red lipstick from which her skin literally pales in comparison to, she explained a bit of Hans Brinker rules and gave us our keys. And it ends with Kai whispering:“I thought the reviews online were sarcastic.”
Now I am completely at a loss for words.
We all went up to finally end the luggage obstacle course and dropped them off in our room. Then walked to a place called “Walk to Wok” to give ourselves a very well-deserved dinner: a box of rice toppings.
We ate. We talked. We walked back to our new home. What a bizarre night.
By the way. Welcome to Jemsterdam. :)
- Day 3: We got Schooled
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Day 3: We got Schooled
Monday - May 9, 2011
In the phrase, ”journalism exchange student program’, the 12 of us Dutch and Filipino students got the latter part covered. As we move along in this program though, I think it’s about time we plunge even deeper into what the first part—journalism—means. What it means to me, to others, and to the world, were several questions I didn’t expect to be answered today.
The morning was a blur, literally, because it was slightly foggy, and noticeably colder than the day before. But it was received with high hopes for good ‘ole Boris, whose wife had given birth! Ans picked us up from our Hostel, and pulled a John the Baptist by ‘delivering the good news’. We were all excited of course, because I remember back in the Philippines during the first leg of the program, Boris was talking about his fears about imminent fatherhood. Well, he’ll be finally put to the test, but for now, as the Dutch saying goes: Gelicifeteered Boris!
Then came a bit of hurried walking to catch the train. I could tell we’ll be doing a lot more of this in the coming days. But all is well when you get to your destination as they say, and so it was when we finally came face to face with the famous Christeljke Hogeschool of Ede.
Big bold letters of the school’s name greeted us as we neared the gate, and I instantly felt at home. I don’t know why, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that this was where our buddies had been taught their craft, or where they had partly molded their personalities. They wouldn’t be who they were now without this school, and that was enough to make me feel at home. To underscore this feeling was also the fact that the receptionists flashed a ‘Welcome Students of Manila’ sign on the TV Screen for announcements, when we entered through the door. It may be a small gesture, but it was warm enough to ward off the cold weather outside. More than the program itself, it made me thankful and proud that it was this school we were partnered with in the program.
I wasn’t surprised anymore at its size, because our buddies had already warned us several times before. But I was amused the fact that it was in a residential area, and that that small cluster of buildings housed about 4,000 students. Now that’s surprising. Inside, the hallways, were neat and a bit multi-colored. Walls were adorned with paintings alongside bulletin boards. It looked very pleasant to the eyes, like going to school here was no pressure at all.
We proceeded to a conference room at the second floor. A little bit of apple cake and a little bit of coffee, and before I knew it, the usual and familiar round of introductions and speeches began.
‘We must look beyond what we see,’ said Mr. Bartho Looi, head of CHE’s journalism program (by the way it’s pronounced as Sei-Ha-Ei, not ‘tse’). This was about challenging us to look beyond the stereotypes of a culture when writing about it. In retrospect, this was a hint of what our activity was to be for the day was. Next came Ms. Alma Feenstra, who emphasized the responsibilities of a journalist and more importantly as a Christian journalist.
Finally in what’s probably my first time to ever see him serious, was Sir Sev, all suited up like the Communication Dept. head I sometimes forget him to be.
‘150 years ago, one of our most noted alumni Jose Rizal travelled the world Today we are doing the same thing, breaking these cultural boundaries in the hope of building a better world.’
Or something like that. So underneath the quirkiness, the man can have his bouts of wisdom. But wardrobe or identity commentary aside, these were the only lines I remember from his speech because it did make me ask myself what really this whole program was for. More than being for a bunch of amateur student journalists to try their hand at international magazine writing, what was it for?
The answers would come later but not before the full day ahead. Starting with the great Mr. Johann Snel and his infamous gestures, I learned in a very interesting 45 minutes about Fukuyama vs. Huntington. These two had very conflicting ideas about the world. But I’ve yet to have fully internalized its implications to journalism though, because what came next would jolt anyone out of an imminent contemplation. There was to be a broadcasting contest!
Even though I’ve had my fair share of public speaking before, the game made me so nervous. The mechanics were simple enough too now that I look back at it, but at that time it seemed like another IJ ‘drop-everything-you-have-1-hour-to-do-this’ assignment. And it was actually, since we had 2 hours to prepare a 5 to 10 minute broadcasting package of any typical Dutch thing with a twist. It was to be delivered live in front of our fellow buddies, and the professors, in the CHE studio. Looking at the mechanics paper, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. It felt I was about to cram for an oral exam with 10 thesis statements.
But what the heck, I decided to just have fun, difficult as it was to do so. So after brainstorming with Heleen over lunch, we headed out to one of their computer laboratories. Initially I was going to report about the Dutch erratic weather, and how that was affecting people’s wardrobes for the day. But an article entitled ‘9 out of 10 Dutch people are happy’ caught my eye. I thought to myself, what else would make people of a first-world country, happy?
With that angle in mind, I started doing some research. Heleen helped me interview 10 Dutch people to ask them if they were happy or not, and their reasons for being so. Heleen even had this funny idea of posing as an unhappy Dutch person, and that I would interview her during my broadcasting skit.
Finally, the moment of truth. We were all gathered in the CHE studio. Between the big cameras, and the lights, and the table where you deliver your news in front, I was overwhelmed. It felt like the real thing! Ms. Alma Feenstra told us a bit of the criteria and some instructions, and then Pia came first. She reported about the Klompen, or Dutch clogs. It was an interesting report because apparently Nike’ was trying to redesign it to fit the modern times. I was amused when she interviewed Gerwald, especially because he really acted like an expert of Klompen. Finally Pia was done, and Sir Sev urged me to go next.
I was very very nervous, even more nervous than when I actually had to cram (well not 10) but 4 thesis statements 2 hours before a Philosophy oral exam. But I just had to do it. I don’t know if I’ll be a TV reporter someday but all I know was that maaaan, the lights were BLIIIINDING. I couldn’t see anyone, but the camera, and it made me feel a awkward that I was sort of just talking to myself. I ended up stuttering at times, and talking too fast at other times. But I think in the end it wasn’t THAT bad—for a beginner I mean. Note to self: enlist in that Broadcasting class next sem, if it doesn’t get dissolved again that is.
Ah but boy was I glad my turn was over. I think after me, Janna came next. Then Jio, Kai and lastly Dav. When the winners were announced, it was Pia who won the contest. Gelicefeteered Pia! She was given a price, and coincidentally enough, we were all given a Klompen keychain.
All in all it was a good activity, the climax of the day. So I guess it was only right to end the day with a slightly less nerve-racking activity, albeit not any less mentally stimulating. We attended—or crashed technically—Mr. Johann Snel’s class about the ‘Elements of Journalism’. The class was a discussion on a book called, well, the ‘Elements of Journalism’. Today, they were on the two chapters about journalism being a watchdog, and journalism as a public forum.
After each pair of students report about the chapter, the class had a debate on certain issues about journalism like, how the Internet was a form of public forum, or whether or not journalists abuse their power.
While Pia, Dav and I shared some of our opinion along with the rest of the class, it got me thinking of already a possible idea for my thesis. If the media was the watchdog, then who’s watching them? But I shoved that thought back into my head, because I wasn’t about to think of school stuff while in the middle of the best internship of my life.
So now, with all these concepts, I have circled back to my original question for the day, what is this program for? Which I think inevitably lead me to the real question, that after everything I’ve learned in school, what really is journalism for?
Today gave me several answers already. To break cultural boundaries and misconceptions. To report the truth. To chronicle. To process man and the society’s experience. To give a twist to what the world has already seen before. Journalism is about what man has been endlessly trying to do and undo in his entire existence, to build a better world.
There are millions more of what journalism is for, and hopefully as I go along in this profession, I will learn more about them. But now, the way I see it, much like other people in this world, we journalists—amateur or not—are simply fools trying to make sense of the world. We do not always succeed. But at least we try.
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