Best Gift Ever!

So I just got home from Italy today and checked my e-mails for the first time in a few days before I board another plane tomorrow to finally depart for the States. I begin to scavage through my cluttered inbox and noticed a wonderful surprise from none other than the great Jason Taylor. I click the link knowing that such a message is surely going to send me laughing if not having to force me to pick my face up off the ground because he rocked my face off once again. Anyway, this e-mail revealed a great gift. A gift so great I thought I should share it with you all. He began a new blogsite http://ifihadbeenmacgyver.blogspot.com which is dedicated to understanding how great life would be if we were in fact MacGyver. It is a must to check out:-) Thanks again Jason, you have kept me updated on all things MacGyver while I have been away and then you top it off by introducing such a groundbreaking website to the world! I am pretty sure life is downhill from here:-)


Also, I am thinking of finishing my packing here and just thought I would share the music that has made my trip. For all of you who have not experienced Big and Rich I suggest you get plugged in. Their song the Big Time has pretty much been my theme song for the semester. Also, as weird as it may sound, Alan Jackson's song Little Bitty reminds me of the Netherlands, come and visit and you will know why!:-) There is a bunch of others thrown in there. Some Jack Johnson, Damien Rice, James Blunt. But those two songs I believe capture my experience here wonderfully.

I guess this is probably my final blog entry from accross the ocean. It is sad to have to leave. To have to say goodbye to the Vissers and the place which has become a sort of second home. Despite the fact that I don't know the language, I still feel oddly at home in this land. I will miss it. I really don't have words to put to my feelings right now. I guess the only way I have to describe it is that right now I feel very similar to when I left the states to come over here. I was so sad to be leaving the people I knew and loved. To leave the life which was so familiar. It isn't that I have no desire to return home. I miss my family and friends terrebly, but I know that I will miss it here as well. I will miss it horribly. I will never forget what the Visser family has given me by opening their home and family to me for the past 4 months, and they will stay with me forever. My experience here has been indescribable, and I really don't know what else to say about it right now. I still can't believe my time here is done. It seems like the world turns so fast and before long the time has slipped away and you are left holding the memories. I will update more when I get back home. I'm not sure what about, but if you wish you can keep on checking back although I can't promise you adventures and pictures quite as exciting as in the past 4 months!:-) I Love you all.
Signing off from the Netherlands
-Dustin

Italy

So usually on a weekend I am able to leave good ol' Dordt college and make a small trip to Sioux Falls, occasionally on one of these trips I may see the wonderful statue of David. Well, this weekend I also took a trip from school. Only this time it was to Italy instead of Sioux Falls, and the statue of David was real and not a cheap immitation which turnes green over time!!!!!:-) Anyway, Bryan, Jenn, Tymona and I took a night train on Friday and arrived Saturday morning in Florence. We saw the statue of David, saw some churches, and I even saw some rather important graves! We also took a long walk (hike) through the tuscan roads and it was absolutely beautiful, just like the Olive Garden menue:-) Anyway, Saturday night we took off for Rome. We camped there and it was amazing. So I will just tell ya guys what we all saw. here it goes.
Waited in line for an hour to get into Vatican Museum, it closed early to our dismay and our waiting was in vain. We then waited in line to see St. Peter's Basilica. Absolutely Amazing. Next day we started earlier. Took a tour of the Colloseum, Roman Forum, Palantine Hill, saw the prison where Peter and Paul were kept, went on to the Trevi Fountain, Pantheon which was sadly closed because of a holiday, Plaza Navona which was beautiful, and the spanish steps which are highly overrated.
The next day we made it to the Vatican Museum and saw the amazing Sistine Chappel and the equally amazing rooms and artifacts leading up to it. Recoup as we started the day out at 6 in the A.M. and it was now noon and we just got out of an extremely crowded Vatican Museum. After eating at a wonderful Italian Pizzaria Bryan, Jenn, and Tymona left Rome in search of Greece and I stayed behind with a couple girls who just arrived in Rome from NSpice. I went with them to St. Peter's Basilica again and it was even better the second time around. Next we visited the Pantheon which was actually open and absolutely amazing. Then took another peak at the Trevi Fountain and visited the overrated Spanish steps once again because near it was the closest metro. Yea, it was pretty busy. Weather was beautiful, and the trip was great. Here are a few pictures. Hopefully you will see them all soon!

It's Gone

Well I finally had enough of my long hair. It is gone. I watched the lady reap handfulls of the stuff off with her razor blade. It was rather tramatic. It had been up there growing for over a year now. We had gotten pretty close, he kept me warm through the cold Netherlands winter, but the tangled mess became annoying all too quickly. Here are a few pictures.

Before:

After:

Now perhaps I can walk into my house in peace without hearing "Dustin, cut your hair" every two minutes from my mom and dad! Sheesh, some people!

Winding Down

Wow, I can’t believe my time over here is almost done. It seems like just yesterday I was struggling to get the toilets working and figure out how to stay warm in my new bed! I remember arriving here the first day and being totally overwhelmed. Wondering how I would ever get used to public transportation and the different language. It is weird how familiar the sound of the Dutch language has become to me, I say sound because I know very little of it, but upon coming back to the Netherlands from one of my many trips abroad, hearing the Dutch language feels strangely at home. While I still have not gotten used to biking everywhere, the weather here is finally allowing some enjoyment to arise out of it. I know I am going to miss this place so much when I finally do get back to normal life. The Visser family has been so good to me, I have begun to feel as a part of their family, and I am sure in a little over a week when I hop on that plane to head back to the states I will not be saying goodbye but merely see ya later., perhaps tot straks. No matter the case, I am sure I will always have times when I yearn to return, and I am equally as confident that at some time I will in fact return. Yet, right now I am also excited to head home: to return to the familiar which has now almost become unfamiliar, and to no longer see home through the computer screen in e-mails and MSN. Therefore I have created a small list of things I am most excited for.

English (knowing when someone is mocking you)
My Jeep (to finally run over my bike)
MacGyver (no reason needed)
Movies (I have never gone this long without a movie theater before!)
Mellow Yellow (Over here they think it is the same as 7up!)
Free Refills
The Sun (The Dutch don’t believe in it, and because of that it doesn’t exist over here. Some people think that is impossible, but the Dutch also didn’t believe the ocean was actually there, and viola, dry land! Need I say more?)
Work (I feel like a lazy shlub for not working for the past 4 months)
Barnes & Nobles
Starbucks
Krispy Kreme
Hot Tub
My sister’s puppy chow (That better be made for me [NOT JUSTIN] when I get back danget!)
Pancakes (real ones, thick ones layered with brown sugar)
Dominoes deep dish pepperoni and onion pizza
A fat slab of grilled steak (I was told they don’t grill here because they think it smells bad and don’t want to make the neighbors smell it, no lie!)
3 distinct meals (Breakfast and Lunch here consist of the same things)
Disc Golf
My own room (no matter how hospitable the Visser’s have been, I still don’t feel like it is MY place. That is probably a good thing:-)

Wow, it looks like my list largely concerns food. No wonder American’s are heavier, we just have better stuff than they do over here I guess :-) Well that is just a short little list and I am sure that after a few weeks back home a new list will arrive discussing the things I miss most about the Netherlands. Dustin can never be content I guess.

Another Best Weekend Ever!

This past weekend I made the trip down to Normandy (Sorry J-Money, I didn't get to crawl on my belly). I had been planning this trip for some time now and was stoked to finally get to visit the D-Day beaches. Yet, I was a little nervous about traveling alone, and although I had never experienced anything negative in France, others stories still brought anxiety to my mind. The travels went great, no real adventures to tell you about there despite a brief moment of confusion when I stepped on the wrong train and was promptly advised by a French woman that I need to go upstairs to catch the proper line. Honestly, the French have always been very helpful to me, thankfully so, or else I probably wouldn’t have arrived in Normandy as I was a bit lost for a bit under Gare De Nord.
Anyway, upon finally arriving in Bayeux where I was to stay for the weekend and set up base camp before seeing the sights, I decided to go find my hostel. I had previously called and made reservations with a woman who spoke very little English. I didn’t always know what she was saying. She said she spoke English, but apparently not my English and all I could understand was that Los Sablons was some sort of family hostel. I gave her my name and my date of stay and we hung up the phone, both a bit confused.
Well, upon finally finding the hostel, the gate was closed. I found a way through the hedges and explored the building to find all the doors locked. I walked around the teepee in the front of the hostel and checked out the windows, it looked as if this place was just finishing construction. I was a bit confused, and then it hit me she was not in fact confirming my reservation but instead explaining the fact that they were not yet open. Well, I saw a teepee in front and therefore I had little concern about finding a place to stay. This was a beautiful small town, and therefore if worse came to worse I would camp out Indian style. Hopefully with a nearby Buffalo to keep me company.
Yet, watching so many episodes of MacGyver prepared me for such an event. I really wish I could tell you I pulled a paperclip, ducktape, and some sort of pill out of my pocket to inflate a life raft which in turn creates a great shelter point allowing me to stay for free, but I can’t. Instead, I just pulled out my trusty travel planner and looked for the address of my plan B. I found it and it was the nicest hostel I have stayed at since I have been in Europe, except for the fact that the toilets had no seats. Oh the crazy French.
This town was absolutely beautiful. It was small, clean, and the narrow streets meandered through the wonderful architecture. They also had a great Cathedral I went through. It was super nice, I recommend it to anyone looking to stay in France. Absolutely beautiful.

On Saturday morning my guided tour of the D-Day beaches began. It was simply spectacular. I decided that instead of trying to find the beaches by bus I was going to hire a guide to take me around and fill my head with facts. It was definitely worth it! I can’t believe all the facts and history I would have missed out on had I not had this guide. He was very knowledgeable and had story upon story about the war from veterans and research he and others had done. It was great. I went to Ste-Mere-Engles, Utah Beach, Point Du Hoc, Omaha Beach, and the American Cemetery. I was captivated by the stories, and to think I was standing in the spots where men younger than I gave up their lives for the freedom I now experience. I still don’t really have many words to explain it. You will pretty much just have to talk to me when I get back, it was that amazing. Probably one of the best weekends I have had here in Europe. Here are a few pictures of the sights.

Oh, one story I want to tell you. Apparently the Germans realized their large guns which could shoot up to 13 miles where vulnerable because of the incessant Allied bombings. Thus, they decided to remove them from Point Du Hoc while bunkers where made for them. They replaced the guns with wooden poles so that from aerial photography it would still appear that they where there. The destruction of these guns was one of the main reasons for the Ranger’s mission to scale the cliffs. The guns where not there, but they did find them later upon walking down a road and seeing a rusty trail leading into some trees. The Germans had left them unguarded and the Allied soldiers quickly destroyed them before the Germans were able to race down the hill of their camp and stop them. Yet, that is not the story I am going to tell you (I guess I already have though). The story I want to share is the one which involves another time the Germans used this wooden pole tactic to attempt to fool the British into thinking there guns were somewhere they were not. The placed these wooden poles in a certain area, and the French underground alerted the British that in fact these were not guns but wooden poles. Well this apparently pissed off the British so they decided to bomb it anyway. Yet, not with explosive bombs but wooden ones. Anyone with a sense of humor that good during wartime deserves to win the freaking thing!

Mmmm.... Im Hungary

It has been a while since I have updated this blog and I am sure you all are just dying to hear about my latest adventures over here in Europe, and thus I will dispense them upon you now. You see, over Easter weekend we got a few days off from our arduous class schedule and therefore were given a 4 day weekend. We first thought it would be a good idea to visit Barcelona. Well, the trains thought that would be a bad idea as they were all booked through France, and we therefore decided to go in the other direction. Hungary! Yup, we hopped on a train and traveled the 15 hours one way to visit the wonderful city of Budapest, Hungary.
Now, I will admit that I have had some preconceived ideas about Hungary. For one, I have always thought that countries in some way or another derived their name from their people or some other identifying marker. The United States are in same way or another united, the Netherlands means “low-lands” in pretty much every language, and Belgium I am sure has something to do with waffles. I therefore instinctively assumed that the people in this nation were hungry, and therefore thought this trip would be more like visiting a third world nation than anything else. It is with these thoughts in my head that I stepped onto the train from Zwolle, and began the journey with my 3 other companions to Budapest.
Now the train ride was relatively smooth as we had previously reserved the necessary seats (experience pays off in the long run as you only have to stand for a few hours before you learn your lesson and call in advance to make reservations!!) and we had a stopover in Vienna before hoping on a train to Budapest. We had a half hour so we quickly ran out of the train station before switching trains and touched Austrian soil. Yup, I have now been to Austria, what a wonderful land:-). We then entered the train station in search of our connecting train to Budapest and quickly found it at the proper platform, but this was unlike any train we had been on before. This was a dirty, old, and rather smelly vehicle. A striking difference from the posh ICE trains we have been taking around many of the countries thus far. To tell you the truth though, I was not that surprised, I just thought I would have seen camels or donkeys or something riding along with us being as anything that far east must naturally use such animals to get around and perform countless other tasks.
Anyway, 3 hours into our ride on this train we began to realize we still have not left this rickety old beast. We began to question ourselves as the schedule placed us in Budapest 10 minutes earlier and we were still sitting around staring out of the dark windows. We didn’t know what was going on. Did we sleep through the stop? Had we missed it somewhere, did this train split? We were confused, and with each passing minute our confusion began to increase in intensity as the worse scenarios began to pop into our heads as I imagined walking out of a train in an unknown city in the middle of a country where the people were so hungry they would probably hold me at gunpoint for the loaf of bread I had tied to the outside of my bag because it wouldn’t fit on the inside.
After an hour of these scenarios running through my head, we finally arrived at Budapest, I was overjoyed, and we then began our search for our hostile in this foreign city at midnight. We were told the hostel was close to the train station, and we were given the direct address so things were looking up. But quickly we found ourselves on a street where the 24-hour-buy-anything-shops with young groups of kids awkwardly staring at us backpack laden individuals gradually gave way to dark allies and shadows. We agreed that if our hostel was down that road we didn’t want it and therefore turned around. We read over the directions again and again, and could not find the hostel for the life of us. Finally, we navigated by the street numbers, and then in a small alleyway we found a ringer that had the name of our hostel on it. No other identifying marker was found, we rang the bell, the buzzer sounded, and we opened up the gated door to enter a dark courtyard. Slowly some stairway lights flickered on as we wondered what was going to happen to us next. They were mellow lights which flickered as if they wanted to go back to sleep, and I wondered if there was going to be a man with a giant chainsaw on the other side of the door. Thankfully I was wrong again, and we were greeted by a small, kind, messy haired man who looked like he just awoke from some peaceful slumber. He showed us to our beds and we quickly went to sleep in order to prepare for the next few days of adventure through this strange land.
Upon waking the sun was shining brightly. Now this is rare for me as I have probably seen the sun a total of 7 days since being in Holland. I was thrilled and promised myself that nothing would ruin such a day. I then walked outside and realized this jacket I was wearing was just to dang warm! I was super stoked and the remainder of the day I was comfortably roaming the city in a t-shirt which proudly exposed my white as ever skin. I was just thankful to be out of the rain for a change! Well, the first thing the light of the day showed us was that this city was in fact not that different from back home. I was amazed! I was figuring dirt paths, carts, and street vendors, but none of these expectations were met! In fact, their underground was one of the nicest undergrounds I have seen, not that large, but neat none the less. Still, the tram system was a little lacking, or perhaps we were just a little lacking as our first excursion got us lost in the middle of Budapest still wondering what the heck this city was about and why the buildings were beginning to look a little more run down. It also didn’t help when we crossed the railroad tracks and my mind began to discuss all the occasions when the other side of the tracks had come up in conversation. We needed help fast, and the heavy, bearded man pumping teenybopper music from his earphones just didn’t seem like the right option. We naturally turned to the grey head of hair carrying groceries on her lap naturally screaming “grandma” by the looks of her. She didn’t know much English, but enough to get us back on track and before we knew it we were on our way to explore this beautiful city.
We first went to Hero’s Square in this beautiful park and I sought frantically for any location I could possibly recognize from the episode of MacGyver “The Thief of Budapest,” and to my dismay I was unable to locate a single location. I then realized I had the movie along and quickly scanned the background to realize there were people walking around dressed as if they were from California in the 80’s. I should have known it wasn’t shot on location danget! How disappointing! Anyway, I pretended one of the statues was MacGyver, donated to the park for his heroic Macgyvernisms used to bring a poor gypsy family the freedom all people deserve. Next I saw a statue which supposedly will grant me some wicked awesome writing ability if I rub his pen. Therefore, I hope to see my prose improving over the course of my blogging, and have been told by some that wicked and awesome should probably be discontinued (some people just have no vision!) We then continued on our tour of the city with our next stop being the market. It was a bit disappointing being that it was inside, but it was cool and I had a traditional (I assume traditional because all of the Hungarians before me ordered it) sausage which looked horrible and black but actually tasted great.
Next was a church built in a cave which is now pretty much my dream, their statue of liberty, a walk by some other statues, a castle, a sweet church, and the fisherman’s bastion. Next we crossed the bridge linking the former cities of Buda and Pest and went to one of the coolest churches I have seen. It is rather new compared to the others, but the interior was absolutely stunning! Next was the parlament building, and to tell you the truth, the most impressive part about the parliament story is the fact that we witnessed a black cat leap upon a pigeon and take it away between his teeth with his head held high. It was a very intriguing sight, the parliament building was beautiful too, but it didn’t just jump on a pigeon! If the parliament building did that I assure you it would have more written about it than the last few sentences.
The next day we went in search of the English church we had found on the internet. Well apparently the people of Budapest believe that every building should be hidden in another building and signs should not be used, because just as our search for our hostel led to some difficulty this too led to problems. Only this time we were unable to find it and upon asking for directions at a local Lutheran church they invited us in because they also did not know where it was. The pastor talked to us and seemed like a very nice fellow, he explained that he church was in Hungarian, but we figured it was better than nothing and entered.
Now, if any of you have ever attended First CRC you will know that the pews are not the most comfortable things out there. I mean I have been to churches with nice padded seats which are a pleasure to be seated upon. Yet, this church in Hungary by far outdid my own church. These things were brutal, they had some wooden back thing that stuck right into you so that you couldn’t possibly fall asleep (although the woman next to me did seem to find a way as her snores erupted during what I can only assume was the congregational prayer) and my knees couldn’t comfortably fit in the area provided between pews. Thankfully the sermon was not too long, I am sure it was good though, he seemed like a really nice guy and all.
Anyway, after this we decided to test the metro, rail, and bus systems of Budapest in order to get to some caves in an outer part of the city. We were told that it could take over an hour if we don’t hit it just right, and we only had an hour to get there, but we were determined to do some serious spelunking that day and therefore took the gamble. Thankfully we made it on time, and were able to explore these crazy caves which at one time were filled with water. At some points you were able to see the shells still embedded in the rock, it was pretty cool. In the end, I absolutely loved the city; it was beautiful, and shattered all my expectations for what it would look and feel like. I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a cave church, a hero’s park, or a Hungarian statue of liberty. This is pretty much the place to be if such a place is your desire! The next entry will probably not be until Sunday evening or Monday as I am “Sick” this Friday and hoping on an early train to get to the beaches of Normandy! Stay tuned.

Terschelling, yea try to say that why dont ya

So this weekend we had a class excursion to Terschelling. A northern Dutch island, it was cold, not a regular sight seeing adventure, and it was AWESOME. In the midst of all the traveling it was very nice to have a downer weekend where we had more time to relax and just enjoy the weekend, and this island was an absolutely perfect place to do that. The island has sand dune upon sand dune, and more continue to grow as the strong winds whip up the fine sand brought up by the ocean currents.
Bryan and I spent the first day on a 4 hour hike to make it to the top of some major sand dunes to get probably the most perfect view on the island. The wind had smoothed the sand so it looked like nobody had even been there before. Pictures don't do it justice but they will try. The next couple days we spent exploring the island via tandom bikes and nature walks. It was great, here are some pictures. Oh yea, and Bryan and I did go swimming in the North sea, and North is apparently synonomous with freezing cold!

The Fam Part II

Well it has been a while since I have updated this thing, so I guess it is about time to shed some new pictures on this wonderful world of the internet. The travels this weekend took me all over the place. I am used to traveling for crying out loud, but gosh my mom’s plans are crazy. I honestly don’t know how my grandparents kept up, but boy did they see a freakin ton!
I met my Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma on Friday night in Augsburg Germany. Not sure why I met them there, but I did and that is that. So the next day we boarded what would be one of the many trains and headed to Fussen. It was pretty much amazing. The mountains in the distance giving way to a glorious castle which only lives in the world of fairy tales, Disney fairy tales that is. Yet, the Neuschwansteandtielenishdtedksdflkhelkajsdflkajsdgjnlkma//.//// castle was pretty cool. They really could have picked an easier name though because dang that thing is hard to remember much less spell correctly.

That night we spent the evening with a hyperactive host at a bed and breakfast in Rothemburg. The place was amazing, and the lady, despite making me tired hearing her talk, was extremely enjoyable and hospitable. Plus, for 20 bucks a person I am pretty sure it was worth it, check out our freaking breakfast spread!

Plus, this wonderful woman actually made us (I’m really not making this up) go to this night watch tour instead of going out to eat like we were thinking. It was possibly one of the coolest things ever. This guy all dressed up like a traditional night watchman with a wicked awesome weapon which is no longer present in modern times but lives on in one of J-Money’s wicked awesome stories. Anyway, this guy was quiet comical and carried a lantern in the dark telling us stories about this old medieval city. I like lanterns. I like cool old weapons in Jason’s stories. I like walled cities. I pretty much loved the night watchman’s tour.

We eventually made it back to the Netherlands and explored the traditional Dutch tulips at the keukenhoff gardens. The extremely cold weather (the coldest year in the past 100 I have been told) prevented the flowers from being in full bloom, but the ones inside were pretty cool, and I got to watch my mom struggle to attempt to get the perfect shot of these flowers. Judging by her attempts, the flowers grew legs and started to run around, jump, and then start rolling down the hill while a violent snowstorm prevented her from taking the pictures cause sheesh she was struggling to get that perfect picture! I swear I have never seen someone twist, turn, and invert the camera to get such a perfect picture (I use the term perfect quite loosely :-).

Anyway, we had fun, it was a great time to see the parents again and now I do believe it is time for a story. Not just any story though, a story written for a specific person. As we know I have in the past made special attempts to accommodate my audience based on their differing needs and desires. The first attempt at such a feat resulted in the opening of the Q & A section of the blog which I will come back to later in this entry, and now you have the second attempt. This story is told by request from the one and only Lisa Vander Maten, and I therefore defer all attempts at revenge to her. With the formalities now completed, let’s proceed.
So my parents, sister, and grandparents left in haste from Zwolle to make their train to Paris. They were rushed, they took off without allowing me to dispense my extremely valuable advice upon them, and they experienced a heck of a story because of it. If any of you have ever lived in the Midwest your whole life the idea of mass transit is shocking. People getting on and off moving vehicles at different points without driving, owning, or knowing the driver or other passengers?! That is crazy talk I tell ya, and for most other Midwesterners I believe you will agree that public transit just doesn’t really exist in our part of the world. Well it does here, and when you travel Europe you are forced to get acquainted with it quickly, it becomes your friend, but this night it was their most horrible enemy.
You see, the underground in France proves to be an unsolvable maze for many, especially to those who have never before seen such a chaotic pipedream of tunnels. I mean these tunnels go up, down, around, merge with others, and then come out in a totally new place. I am not at all surprised that they got lost, and being that it was late at night I can understand their concern.
You see, they arrived on Sunday evening and needed to buy tickets and find their way to the Eiffel tower and then their hotel. After a little bit of wandering they finally asked a man with a large scar on his head how to get where they were heading. Well I must mention that my dad found him friendly but my mom found the scar rather scary. Placing the scar in a subterranean maze of complex confusion only set the stage, and my mom became more and more nervous as all moms are required to become by law.
Anyway, before long the scar was leading my dad through the underground attempting to find an open ticket counter as all of them closed early for Sunday. Finally after leading up and down stairs, through corridors, and around that one guy sitting in the corning staring at you, the man must have realized the puffing group behind him needed a break. Yet, he was rushed, and therefore told them all to wait while he and my dad proceeded into the depths of the earth to attain this ticket; this ticket of great prize, this ticket sure to lead them from tourist site to tourist site.
My mom was scared again, she sent my grandpa after them. My grandpa, being the man of bravery he is, proceeded to follow them despite the plethora of steps which annoying anyone who has ever experienced the French underground. Finally, just as my grandfather caught up with them they had reached an automatic ticket machine, but to their dismay my Dad’s card would not work (they hate American credit cards, I honestly saw one machine burst into flame in anger of having an American card inserted into it once. No lie, I promise, the French I tell ya have a little of an anger problem, even their machines). So anyway, the man with the scar reaches into his pocket, the tension rises…………


…Pause for dramatic effect…


And he pulled out his own credit card.


…Pause to allow you all to release that breath held in such tension…

and paid for the tickets himself. My dad looked at the screen as the man with the scar was pushing the numbers and my dad read 116.7 euros. Now, let me tell you, that is a lot for 4 metro tickets. I mean I paid 3.50. I was rather confused at this point in the story. But in the depths of the underground with a man with a ginormous scar on his head you are in no position to argue. I mean, have you ever been in such a place. Honestly, I swear it is the place where all people get murdered and then transferred to a drop off point where we find them at the location which the police actually believe is the scene of the crime, but that is a story for a different time.
My dad handed the man the cash, he responded that he paid way too much. My dad explained that the extra was for the man’s trouble, thinking the man was referring to the extra 5 euro he placed in his hands. The man explained how someone had once helped him out in California and therefore he was helping out here. My dad still insisted the man keep the cash and they parted ways. My dad and grandpa emerged from the tunnels unscathed. They proceeded to the Eiffel Tower and then on to find their hotel (Which is another story in itself, ask, I assure you it wont disappoint :-).
This blog is getting long so I will get to the point. The next morning their 120 euro tickets didn’t work. This is mildly perturbing as they at least thought that at such a steep price they would get them through the weekend. Yet, they were forced to buy new ones and the cashier rang up 11.65 euros for the tickets. That is right, when you don’t see the 5 and misplace a decimal point you end up paying an extra 100 euro to a complete stranger helping out another stranger in the depths of an extremely odd place. I guess it is paying it forward at work without even knowing it. Ohhhh good ol’ stories from Europe!

Q&A

So a while back I started a Question and Answers section in response to the inquisitive mind of my dear uncle Glenn. In one of his questions he asked about a young man and a large dyke with a small hole and a stream of water. Well it is true, this young man did in fact exist (fictionally of coarse) and he is forever remembered in this wonderful statue! Oh the joys of the Netherlands.

The Other Fam

I was also informed by my lovely mother that I should probably actually post a picture about the kind people who are putting up with me in their home for the duration of my stay in the Netherlands. Well here she be.
A little bit of explanation is necessary I do believe. The girl in the back on the left is named Lineke and she is 17. Next to her is her boyfriend Hans, he is pretty much part of the family. Next to me is Elize who is 19 and next to her is my little brother Steven (14) but more about him later. The wonderful couple on the end is Gerda and Freddy, and the two on the bottom are Myranda (my sister who is 15) and her boyfriend Rob who is also pretty much part of the family. As you can see it comes out to be a large and hospitable group, and it is not rare for the home to be filled with even more guests. It is busy, fun, and exciting. They are full of laughs and full of life, and let me tell you it is never too quiet around here!
Also, here is another picture of my brother Steven. He is a character in a half and I therefore believe he deserves an extra paragraph to his dedication. He is full of energy which even I can’t comprehend, and he is also always getting into something (usually mud, water, or trouble. Usually in combination and he also always seems to add something which I didn’t even know existed!) Anyway, today he decided to go fly his kite. It is a big kite and when I see the guys in the parks flying these kites it always looks cool as they have to lean and fight against the pull of the wind. Still, flying a kit is usually a pretty uneventful endeavor. You run, the kite catches the wind, you watch it fly, you get bored as soon as you realize that it isn’t possible for someone to tie a string to you and watch you lift off the ground, and then you go home. Well, here is a picture of Steven returning home from flying his kite.

Apparently the wind was too strong for him, he lost his footing and was drug along the muddy ground near the river until the kite finally crashed into the ground just before dragging him into a canal. Man that kid amazes me, I have never seen such a creative kite flying excursion, and perhaps if we all flew kites like that it would be an Olympic sport.

The Visit

Many of you may know my mother. She is a special lady. A lady who is very lucky for many reasons which she overlooks. One obvious reason is that she gave birth to such a wonderful son, so wonderful in fact that they decided it was not possible to top him so they stopped having children right there. Once again I know I have some skeptics in the crowd who will claim they stopped having children because I scared them to death. Well obviously they are alive and kicking, and you can once again just go away! Another reason my mother is lucky is that her son crossed the seas and she therefore had a reason to visit him. The third, and possibly final, reason this lovely lady is so lucky is the fact that she will have no clue that this blog was published. Ah yes, she will be able to travel Europe knowing none the better. And trust me, I will keep you all updated on her actions, because we all know she would do the same!
So the time finally arrived when I was to be reunited for a short time with my family. My Dad, Mom, Sister, Grandpa, and Grandma all flew the ocean in order to wish me hello (for only a couple days) and travel Europe (For many more days). I guess we know who is really lovedJ Anyway, I arrived at the airport in Amsterdam to meet them and we exchanged the usual I have not seen you in two month hugs and greetings. It was pleasant, and I have nothing more to say about that as it has little relevance to the story and well all know I keep all stories on a precise and determined plotline.
That day we took the shuttle (not the space shuttle you dork, the ground ones that are really just a glorified bus) to our hotel. It was then that my mom opened her suitcase and holy crap was I surprised. I will give it to my mom that she is a very caring and considerate person, and I did in fact ask for some of these things in the suitcase as well. She did not disappoint that is for sure, and the suitcase was overflowing with gifts for my host family. Now the interesting thing is when she pulled out a package and said, “Oh I wonder if this is still good”. Now I have heard this response in connection with discoveries under the couch or maybe that pile of cloths in the corner, but never while traveling abroad have I pulled out something from my suitcase and had such questions. I was a bit confused until my dad explained that my mom got on another one of her kicks again (my mom gets on a new one ever other hour, sometimes two at a time, in which she can focus on nothing else except her newfound interest. Sometimes she is an interior designer, jewelry crafter, head chef, or travel agent, heck onetime she thought she could make a bundle of extra cash off cute bunny rabbits so she started a breeding center in our backyard with 5 rabbits she picked up from the local pet store. It failed, and when they all escaped they also ate her flowers and laughed at the irony of the situation).
So anyway, she took this questionable object and quickly exited the room and returned with it wrapped in ice announcing that she could not find a fridge to store it. I then asked what possibly could be so important that it must be taken overseas despite the fact that it should be refrigerated. She responded, “Well it is cheese for the pizza Dustin” as if this is just a normal thing to take over to Europe. Needless to say I still am amazed that she did such a thing. I mean this woman went to school for a long time for crying out loud and she brought cheese to the freakin Cheese capital of the world?! Oh my mother, ya gotta love her.
Ohhhh wait, I’m not done yet, I have to keep going being as she can’t defend herself. I mean usually you can only get one little thing in before she totally rips apart your own stupidity, at my count I have a good 10 days before this is even going to backfire on me. We will just worry about that laterJ So some of you may know that I am a pure bread Dutchman, and my Grandfather was born in the wonderful town of Eda in the South part of the Netherlands. We therefore rented a car in search of his birthplace so as to gaze upon the plot of land which began such a splendid family. To our dismay the home which he grew up in for his first 3 years of life was no longer there. It was demolished to make room for a new home, but the location was still beautiful. The countryscape was typical Dutch with small fenced in land for animals and crops belonging to the stout brick homes dotting the countryside. We pulled over the rental van to take some pictures when my mom glances out the window and announces “Hmmm…. Looks like a bunch of dogs over there.” Hmmmm….. is pretty much the only response I could provide to that comment (actually my dad and I proceeded to make plenty of other comments, but I am sure you all can make your own, just check the pictures).
Yea, my wonderful, and very educated, mother thought those looked like dogs. YEA WHEN YOU ARE 3!!!

And finally, I am going to close this section of the blog offering my humblest apologies to my mother who will read this in 10 days and surely find a way to get me back tenfold. Yet, I am sure that all of you out there who know this splendid woman will agree that she definitely has it coming to her!:-)




Oh yea, I almost forgot, she never tried to start the bunny farm, but I could see it happening. Really, I honestly could.

Bike Riding Adventures: Part 584.5a

So I was biking to school today by a spot which brought a smile to my face. It brought a smile to my face today only after having many laughs over it with a Mr. Bryan Burgers. Yet, at the moment, while comical in a way, no laughs were had. Apologies were present, once again I reverted to my childhood ways which consisted of me saying “it was an accident, I promise!” in my most sorrowful tone of voice. Anyway, here is what happened.
Bryan and I are biking to school like any normal day, and we are getting pretty good at it. The paths are only so wide and all the native Netherlandic people ride two by two. Now this gives one very little room for error, and upon first arriving we made the trek in single-file fashion. Yet, we have now been here for a while, and our confidence has risen to the point were we blend in with the natives much more. Heck, we can ride side by side, and we did. This worked well for a long time. No problems there, until.
At this part of the story I would like to insert another story; a story involving the characters of Juliet and Maggie, the truly original girls who experienced with me the adventures of Paris. It was one day after school when we didn’t feel like biking back to Hattem that we decided to go pick up a couple drinks at the local pub. We decided to explore a new one and walked into what was an oldmans haven. We received odd looks upon first entering and I realized they had probably not seen women of this age in here for a while, probably ever. Still, we were cold and sat down at a table. I approached the bartender and asked for three beers only to find out they had no wonderful Heineken but only grolsch. I was disappointed but he said it was better and I therefore returned with three for our table.
Anyway, the conversation began to flow and if you know Maggie and Juliet, when they get excited their voices tend to rise. Somehow we got on the topic of the horrible agony which is sure to make you want to scratch your eyes from their sockets if you would happen to be one of the most unlucky soles on the face of this green earth who happens to walk in on his/her parents. Well Juliet was getting super into the conversation and begins to yell, I tried to settler her down but it was too late. The entire bar filled with 75+ year old men put down their glasses and turned their heads to gaze at the voice which just uttered such words. I don’t remembered what was exactly said, but I do now know that 75+ year old men sure turn their heads quickly when they hear a young woman talking about the topic (Apparently the pill is working). Anyway, the point of the story is that the beer was bad, I hated it. And that is that.
So there Bryan and I are biking to school and a sign appears advertising Grolsch beer. It is then that my hand flies into the air as I point out and begin my warning to him never to try such horrible stuff. I was just getting to the pivotal point of my argument when I realize that my traveling companion is gone. I look back and see him lying on the ground behind an elderly woman. I was very confused, and Bryan must have been too because he just laid there on his back for a good minute pondering his current situation. The best part of it was the old woman whom Bryan landed behind. She didn’t even turn around until a good 30 seconds into Bryan’s minute of pondering (which began after his awkward and loud dismount from his bike), and when she did finally see a young man on his back with his bike awkwardly lying on the street she just turned around like it was nothing at all. The moral of the story is that apparently my story telling can be dangerous, so if you are ever riding on a bike with me just ride behind me and let me swerve and point wildly to allow the full effect to hit you metaphorically and not literally.
Another interesting Netherlandic biking fact is that they often enjoy riding two on a bike. Clearly my experiences so far on the bike has proven that the dangers are present even during a solo run, and thus I had spent much of my time avoiding this attempt at a double riding adventure. Yet, our friends Tymona & Pumba (Jenn) had ridden into Hattem from Zwolle and were complaining about their ride and wanted a rest, and they then asked to ride on the back of our bikes to the next house we were supposed to travel too. Being as we were once taught how to double ride by our host sister we promptly agreed and began our travels. Now double riding brings a whole new eliment to bike riding. The balance is thrown off dramatically when the person mounts and dismounts, plus you need to attain the proper speed before the other rider decides to jump on. The first part went fine, and all was ok as we took off from our house to Juliet and Maggies. Tymona and Pumba were safely on the back of my and Bryan’s bikes respectively, and the girls were happy they didn’t have to pedal. This ease of their life led to increased conversation being as they were not gasping for breath, and this ease of conversation prevented Bryan and I from taking the proper turn. Therefore, we soon realized we had to turn around and Jenn and Bryan were unable to take the turn together and Jenn was forced to dismount. Now this is not all that uncommon as intense turning is difficult to balance when another person is perched on the rear of your bike. Yet, what is different about this situation is the fact that Jenn, promptly after dismounting, decides to quickly jump back on without warning Bryan. The balance was quickly lost, and Jenn ended up with her butt in a pile of dirt because the location of your legs while riding on the rear of a bike prevent you from catching yourself if you fall to one side. It was this event that made it apparent that Jenn was clearly ignorant about the rules of life. One of them being completely explained during this situation. You can’t just mount a guy without proper warning!

London: The Pound Kills Ya!

London is a stunning city, and the sights to be had are immense. It is a place of culture and history and off which we had both. Our flight over there was short and consisted of approximately 45 minutes of air time. Yet, if any of you have ever taxied through the Amsterdam Schipol airport you know that there is 20 minutes of taxing before you are able to take off. Apparently they believe that they should drive the plane half way to the destination in order to save on soaring gas prices. Still, the excitement of flying was not squelched by this process, and despite the ease of taking trains, there is one vital and wondrous difference between the two. Airplanes will not split mid-flight! I have been on one too many trains which have split at a station without my knowledge only to carry me to some unknown destination from where I must attempt to find my way back to the right track. It is a bit aggravating and I must say that knowing no such thing is going to happen brings a comfort to the airways. I love it.
Upon arriving at London Luton airport we had to take an hour long Coach ride into the city to find my wonderful friend Travis from high school. Upon exiting the coach we spent probably another hour wondering around trying to find his place. The wondering was not all in vain though for we stumbled upon Buckingham Palace during the changing of the guard. What a wonderful coincidence, but I was a bit unimpressed, for the suits these men wear make them look absolutely hilarious and there is no way you can take a guard seriously unless he looks mean, not like some freaking clown. I therefore would like to suggest the palace gets into talks with the costume designers of Braveheart or Gladiator, for if the guards were to look like that I assure you no more tourists will line up to take a corny picture next to an even cornier looking guard who in reality just stands there doing absolutely nothing. In fact, I found it rather ironic that the police were present to ensure the proper changing of the guard. Shouldn’t the guards be able to do this themselves?! Honestly, something really must be done.
We did finally arrive at Travis’ glorious place of residence which is smack in the middle of absolutely everything. It is a ten minute walk from the palace, Westminster abbey, Big Ben and the Parliament building, and the London Eye. It was wonderful and we spent the first part of the day browsing these sights. That night is when the cold began. We decided that being as it was St. Patricks day the only logical thing to do is go to the five story Irish Pub in London. We also had heard that it is easy to get your jackets stolen in such an establishment so our jackets were left at home. The chill was not terrible from the tube to the Fish and Chips establishment (absolutely scrumptious) we visited from dinner. But the hour queue (The British’s wicked awesome name for a line [they also say “mate” and “cheers” and combine them in a hundred different ways at a skill level which made me quite jealous {oh yea, they also swear with an amazing politeness and sophistication!}]) outside Waxy O’Conners with only a t-shirt (only green thing I had so I am not a complete idiot for wearing it:-) was a bit chilly. But the wait was worth it, and we had a few beers in what is the coolest pub I have ever seen. It was made into a giant tree, and you went in and out of it as you went through the different rooms and levels. It was like you were underground, in the tree, and seeing roots coming out of the walls. I don’t know how else to explain it but it was a good time.
The next day we saw the typical tourist sights. We began at the Kew gardens which were beautiful, and had the wind now been so biting it would have been splendid to spend more time walking around the massive gardens. We reserved most of our time to the greenhouses, especially the warm and tropical palm houseJ We then went to see the Castle of London and Tower Bridge before we went to this sweet outdoor market. At this market we stopped for lunch and I had an Ostrich burger! Yea it was super tasty, and now I can scratch one more thing off my life goals list.
The next stop was one of my most anticipated events yet. Going to see Postman’s Park, it is a park dedicated to those giving up their lives to save others and one of my favorite movies of all time focuses around this park. It was wonderful, and I could have spent the remainder of the day there but we had places to go and things to see so off we went to Trafalgar square to casually browse the sights and visit the National (FREE) art gallery which housed a ton of great artwork including Peter Paul Reuben’s amazing Samson and Delilah. Anyway, the square was unwalkable because there were a bunch of people protesting something bush. It is amazing how unintelligent people quickly look when they invade a square to whine together.
That evening we topped off the night by taking a flight on the London Eye which was well worth the money. It set us high atop the city allowing us to see many of the sites all lit up. It was splendid, and a wonderful way to top off our excursion to London. It was one of our shortest trips but one of the most expensive. Still a great time was had by all and our wonderful tour guide Travis led a spectacular sight seeing adventure through London.

Who am I?????

My loyal blog readers may already know this, but for you newbies or those of you who have difficulty remembering such important things I will remind you. I don’t really know how to put this, but my family is a pretty big deal. A few years back my uncle Glen made the discovery that my mother’s side of the family was actually the founders of a the small town of Huizen in the Netherlands. Then during their immigration to the United States a clerical error changed the “I” to an “L” and they became the VanHulzen family. Some of you people with a more cynical inkling will quickly state that such facts are not true, well to you I say to stop reading now because your negativity is not needed and in fact your mind is a useless mass of pink gelatin which obviously does not function properly if it does not believe such clear factual information. Also, others will say that it is such a small town that it means nothing, and to these pessimists I would ask as to how many towns they have named after their family??? Yea that is what I though. Anyway, just let me continue with the cold hard facts of this narrative already will ya!
As we all know it is a rarity for a family of royalty such as the VanHulzen clan to marry into a family of commoners. I therefore have found it very odd for many years how my Mom and Dad came to marry, fall in love, and birth two of the most spectacular kids ever. Yes, this question has plagued my mind for years, and it has even led me to speculations of my true heritage, the confusion was tumultuous and my life was in turmoil. This problem proved to be quite the existential difficulty and I therefore set out on a quest to my homeland to solve the conundrum of my life. How were these two families united? How was such royalty allowed to unite with a family of commoners? And with the background laid I shall now reveal the tales of my journey thus far, and it is hear the story truly begins.
I entered this weekend with a small bit of sorrow in my heart as I realized I was in Europe for only a short time longer and was going to spend this weekend at home with little traveling or adventures. Yet, my sadness quickly gave way as the light of joy peered through the clouds as my wonderful Paris traveling partners Maggie and Juliet invited me along to visit a land which I had previously only thought existed in fairy tales: a land with knights, dragons, and damsels in distress. They had planned a visit to a castle, and I enthusiastically agreed to be their help and protector as we sought to climb to the tallest room of the tallest tower to meet me true love and have true loves first kiss. Yea right, like that is ever going to happen :-). Still, while I understood that my true love had long ago melted away, I eagerly accepted their invitation to visit this magical world and slay this wondrous dragon for the mere purposes of saying that I had in fact slayed a dragon. I was stoked.
I entered this adventure blindly, I had no time to prepare and had totally forgot to pack my armor and we all know that taking a sword through customs is darn near impossible, especially when they freak out about a finger nail clipper. Thus, I figured I would have to rely on my MacGyver knowledge and ingenuity, and I new this dragon was all but dead. With this plan now hatched I began to mentally prepare as I flashed through the past 16 years of MacGyver soaking in all the MacGyvernisms possible.
After leaving the train we began our hike to the isolated Castle near a remote village in the south of Holland. And soon through the trees a massive, stately structure powered into the air. The castle was in view and I was in awe. The draw bridge was already lowered and it was clear the Dragon was a little arrogant by providing me such an easily accessible entry point over the moat.

I then proceeded to scan my surroundings and purchased my ticket for entry, once again an extremely easy task which proved beyond a doubt that this dragon had clearly overlooked the security of his pad. I bribed the ticketmaster and he discretely slid me a ticket beneath the glass for entry beyond the gardens into the inner depths of the castle. It was then as my gaze scanned the paper in my hand that I realized Kasteel de Haar was printed prominently above the top of the paper. Hmmm…. That is strange, it is very similar to my own last name, but I continued on my journey figured it was merely a clever ploy attempting to divert my attention.

The girls and I quickly crossed yet another moat and descended the steep twisting staircase into the depths of the inner castle, and there we waited. It was then that a woman approached us; she quickly opened a door and filed us through as if not wanting others to see what she was doing. She then quickly handed me a paper in English. Upon it was written something greater than I had ever imagined: the history of the castle, a castle which was not just an ordinary castle, but nothing less than my very own castle! The file I held in my hand described how the castle had been destroyed and rebuilt many times, and how the Vande Haar family had restored it to its former glory in order to never allow the world to forget the wonders of its heritage. I am pretty sure it is painfully clear to all you out there that upon immigrating to America the Vande Haar name was once again changed because of a clerical error resulting from the rich Dutch accent of my ancestors. They therefore became the Vander Haar family which we all have grown to know and love today. This was too much to bear, and I could hardly keep my wits about me before it dawned on me that this too could merely be another clever ploy. The girls and I were securely escorted (guided tour) through the castle in order to protect us from the beast which roams the empty halls, and we were prevented from taking pictures (which I was very upset at especially being as it was rightfully my own family’s castle). Yet, I still had an inkling that this could not be true, and such a fact would not possibly be hidden from me all these years.
Yet, sooner than not I realized that in fact it was true, and this castle was a beautiful part of my family’s heritage. For upon entering the gardens I was shocked to see a statue in perfect representation of me?!

How could this be? How could they possibly know what I look like without ever even taking the time to let me know about my past? I didn’t know, but I just blamed it on the internet and figured that through such means they attained pictures and information because we all know that the internet is an amazing tool. Once again some of you will claim this picture is fake and that it is just me acting like a statue. Again I will ask a question too you “How could I take that picture if I was standing as that statue???” yea that is what I thought. Plus I am not nearly that good of an actor to pull of such a spectacular pose.
We continued walking the gardens and exploring my newly discovered lands. It was a truly beautiful experience, and the history I discovered was astounding. It appears that my thought that my travels in Europe would merely yield some fun stories and some typical touristy attractions were dead wrong. Instead, I was actually able to come across my family heritage and calm the existential quagmire billowing in my soul. I now know that two of the greatest families in the Netherlands combined to bring about my birth. In the end the VanHulzen family did not marry into a bunch of commoners, but true royalty with a beautiful castle to match! I will therefore no longer be going by the name Dustin Vander Haar, but instead will only answer to Prince Vander Haar III (putting numbers behind your name just makes it seem so much more significant don’t ya think?)


Oh yea, for those inquisitive readers, you are probably wondering what happened to the dragon. Well, because of my newly discovered royal blood line, he and I came to an agreement that he could live in my castle as long as he protects it while I am away. We now play poker on the first Tuesday of every month (online when I am in America).

Mmmmmm

It has been a long time since I have updated this bad boy so I figured I would let you in on a little of my life over here in the Netherlands right now. This weekend I do not have any plans so there will be no stories of valiant worriors overcomming scam artists or even failed attempts at orienting oneself in a new city. No, I do believe this weekend I will remain in the Hattem/Zwolle area. I was attempting to make a trip to either Normandy or Wittenberg and they both fell through, so sadly I do believe Luther's door will not been seen (I guess it isnt the real one anyway right???) but I have vowed to make it to Normandy, and I can pretty much guarantee you that when I do there will be a heck of a story involving me getting there and back because it is looking like it will be some work. None the less, after fighting off some slight dissapointment of having to put my travels aside this weekend I was blessed with a wonderful oppotunity last night. American food!!!
Some of my fellow students decided that we would go to Amsterdam and visit the good ol' Hard Rock Cafe for an evening of food and fellowship. I immediately recognized the name of this restaraunt, and I despite the fact that the first Hard Rock Cafe opened in London I associated the meals with America and prayed that my dreams would come true. I was not dissapointed!!!
Oh how I have longed for a good, fat, juicy American Bacon Cheeseburger for so long, and this one met all the expectations. It was served with a hearty helping for fries, and even all you could drink soda. I am telling you that this was an American oasis in the center of the European desert of health. I am sure that if our fellow Dutchmen knew that we spent our evenings dining over soda and large slabs of meat they would proably react with the same concern and worry that my grandma expresses when she hears that I have partook of the local Heinekin brew. Nonetheless it was a grand evening, and a burger has never tasted so good. NEVER!

Best Weekend EVER!

Apparently my host family has been thinking I am a lonely young man because after returning from school one cold winter day, they rushed to my side and said with excited eyes “Dustin!!!! We have a wonderful surprise waiting for you outside. She is all yours” Now this addition of a she confused me at first until I stepped out into the bright sunlight reflecting off of her pale skin only to see the wonderful SnowWoman built with love just for me. They said now I can finally get a girl and it is actually the perfect girl because when you get sick of her she will probably just melt away.

Despite my newfound love, I had commitments to keep and off I went to a new land were adventures were to be had a wars were to be fought. For we all know that in any good drama the only thing to separate two star struck lovers is a battle between good and evil. Yet, in this case it was between the tourists and the scam artists.
My travels began on a Thursday with me battling sloppy sidewalks in order to arrive promptly at my train traversing the glistening countryside with its destination in sight: Paris, France. I was stoked. Yet, I was a bit on the weary side for I had heard that the French men are not big fans of the Americans because apparently we were only supposed to borrow the statue of liberty for a period of 24.7 years so that they would be able to stand lady liberty besides the Eiffel tower in order to create the world’s greatest tourist attraction. Yet, as the story goes, the American’s were quite fond of this statue and decided to fool the French by spray painting it green and pretending they replaced it with a new one and sent the original back. Still, this claim is under suspicion being as it has still not arrived on French soil. If you ask me I would back the American side of things and blame it on the insane taxes you have to pay to get something imported into this continent. If my friend’s Euro-rail pass cost her 230 euros to get imported imagine the Statue of Liberty! There is no way the French were going to pay such prices, and the real statue of liberty probably is sitting in storage at some international FedEx center. In the end, the French have settled for a much smaller version which resides in a hidden location which I was not able to discover, but I do promise it is there.
Anyway, they still have managed to accumulate many giant tourist attractions, and their sheer size made them amazing. From the Arc de Triumph, The massive glass pyramid at the Louvre, and then the Eiffel Tower, the city has much beauty to show off. And I spent two wonderful days soaking it all in. Our first day began with the Arc de Triumph which was amazing and not just another arc. It is ginormous, I couldn’t believe it.

Sadly it was raining that day and we were petrified that our weekend was going to be ruined so in order to forget about it we quickly escaped into the underground metro and arrived at the Louvre museum to browse some art and race around the massive building attempting to see in 5 hours what many people see in 4 days. Our attempts failed but I did get to see some awesome painting by Ruebens, the Mona Lisa of coarse (which is way too hyped up) and a few other beauties including the Wedding Feast of Cana.

We next traveled to Notre Dame. The architecture was amazing, but it was a bit odd to walk through the church with the other tourists because a Mass was actually going on as we strolled the church. I guess if you ever want to feel famous just attend Mass at Notre Dame because you will get countless pictures taken of you while you just go about your business. Or perhaps we were not supposed to be there at all and they were just too nice to tell the stupid American’s to leave. I guess both instances are completely plausible. The outer architecture was the most impressive though, and once again I turn you over to the pictures.

That night we saw one of the most impressive buildings or pieces of art or whatever you want to call it: The Eiffel Tower. It was amazing, I loved it, I stood in awe at its behemoth footings as I gazed up at it towering above me. In the night it seemed to glow with radiance and just then I was interrupted by a young man trying to sell a corny light up plastic souvenir. 20 Euro he said, and to this I laughed. How could he expect me to pay 20 euro for that, and then he lowered the price. He asked what I would pay. I promptly walked away before getting caught in some sort of trap. I have learned that the best way to avoid buying something you don’t want is just not to talk to them. These people have some serious skills that is for sure. This was my first avoidance of the scam artists. I was proud. We went to the top of the tower by the way, it was wicked awesome. You should do it sometime.

Oh, and at every hour for ten minutes it does this really cool blinking light thing. Once again, you should see it, it is worth it I promise. If it isnt I will buy you one of those little plastic light up towers.

On our way back from the tower we weaved in and out of the scam artists and avoided eye contact at all costs. Apparently the lady in front of us was not as skilled as she was seen looking into the glowing figure only to be surrounded by 5 other glowing towers each offering a lower price. Ah how superb my skills were. But oh how wrong I was once again. That following day we decided to go to Mountmontre where a beautiful church is situated on a hill overlooking the city of love. Well it sure sounded pleasant reading of it in the book, but upon arrival we were greeted by some kind Jamaican fellows telling us to give them our finger. The crowd was large and I was unable to keep walking and therefore unable to avoid his gaze. He reassured me that it was nothing bad and pointed to the many people around me doing the same thing. I gave in and he began to create a bracelet using my finger and his thread. He talked to me about something in Africa, mixed in some Jamaican stuff and even some Lion King acunama-tata. Before long he had a stupid thread bracelet tied around my wrist and told me it was 20 euros. I was like no way, he then lowered the price. I ended up paying 3 euros for him to leave me alone. Juliet paid 4. Maggie paid another 3. We all were ticked off and we all had plenty off worries contrary to the acunama-tata which they had preached.

Anyway, we enjoyed the church on the hill; we also enjoyed watching others get scammed from the top of the hill. There was also a little artistic community on this hill where sidewalk painters sold their art and others attempted to paint your portrait. It was very pleasant as soon as I forgot that I had to get scammed to get here. Touché for the good Jamaican/African scam artists, they were one up on us.
Still, as any good American, we were going to go down fighting. At least the girls with me were. On our way back down some more young men spotted us tourists descending the hill and quickly asked for our finger. The only response they received was Maggie’s fist in the air revealing the 3 euro thread bracelet accompanied by Maggie yelling “It’s a Scam, a SCAM I TELL YOU!” They quickly backed off but Maggie was not so amused. Before long Maggie and Juliet noticed some other men trying to convince more unsuspecting tourists to provide their finger. Before I could stop them Maggie and Juliet were yelling for tourists not to give them the finger for it was a scam. I quickly put my head down and kept walking only to hear a few French words fly through the air. I laughed hard. Touché for the American’s I think that at least makes us even :-)
That evening we returned to the Eiffel Tower and just enjoyed its beauty one more time before saying goodbye. Apparently the romance of the place had intoxicated the girls because suddenly the cheap light up Eiffel towers became irresistible, they just had to have them. Therefore Maggie made up a very extravagant story and decided to see just how cheap she could get it for. She got him down to 3 euros. She was stoked, and Juliet was super jealous, and therefore she made an attempt to attain the prize for the same price. Still, if you would have listened to Juliet’s bartering skills you would have noticed they were lacking (actually pathetic). Anyway, Maggie had to pull the story on some other helpless young man and before long she attained two towers for 3 dollars each. They were thrilled and apparently had pulled a scam over the scam artists themselves. It was as we were walking home and the girls were giggling about their new purchases that I heard some fellow Americans talking to each other on their way to the tower about how they couldn’t believe that guy offered to sell them the light up towers for 3 euros. Who scammed who? Perhaps we will never know.
Early the next morning I entered the metro only to see 3 ruffians scamming vending machines by kicking them with violent force. Being the only other person yet waiting for a train I was rather uncomfortable. Yet, I was thankful any food they would attempt to kick out of me wouldn’t taste so good so I reasoned I was probably in good shape of not getting violently kicked as long as I kept my mouth shut and looked away. I quickly boarded my train and took off for Geneva: the land of Calvin.

Geneva is one of the most naturally beautiful cities I have seen. The mountains were perfectly hugged by the clouds as the sun reflected off the radiant turquoise harbor. It was stunning, and from the top of St. Peters cathedral (Calvin’s Church) it was even more amazing as it was a perfect view overlooking the entire city surrounded by mountains only to have them give way to the expansive lake. Besides taking in Geneva’s natural beauty, I set out on a course pertaining to all things reformation. I got to see Calvin’s church, his chair, his pulpit, and the reformation museum in Geneva. I also got to view this old church excavation which they have discovered underneath the new Cathedral. It was pretty cool but in the end it was a bunch of old rocks with French explanations which helped me very little. The museum and church themselves were wicked awesome though. I even picked up a Calvin beer at the museum and too this day it is one of my few souvenirs besides my billions of pictures taken.
I then proceeded to the reformation wall in which the early reformers are situated in stone overlooking a beautiful park. It was a great sight, and now I can officially say I had lunch (left over bread with small amounts of peanut butter) with Jean Calvin.

Yet, all good things must come to an end and I therefore went to say goodbye to my new friend. I visited Calvin’s grave after a long search for the entrance of the graveyard (even the most simple things I make difficult). Anyway, apparently his desire to strip religion of icons applied to his grave as well as the only thing remembering his death is a small stone with the inscription of JC barely legible anymore. But it was still amazing to think of the many places I had walked that day were once walked by him as well. With this thought still new in my head I turned and headed to the station to begin my 13 hour trek back home.
I made it home all right, and without a shower for the 2nd/3rd (depending on where you start the count) day in a row I had to head strait to class. I am sure I was not the most beautiful sight to behold. But hey, the snow melting in the warm sunlight gave me reason to be in mourning. For with the dawning of the sun I knew I would never be able to properly say goodbye to my SnowWoman. She melted before I returned from my travels, but the long train rides were made bearable by my knowing that some cold low pressure system would someday return only to send my beauty my way once again when I least expect it.

So That's What Wooden Shoes Are For

So upon arrival on the Netherlands we began to gather general information about what it was like to live here, and upon learning of our transportation in the Netherlands we began to gather information about how the heck you ride bike here in the winter! We were promptly told of the weather here in the Netherlands, how it is milder, it does not snow except for maybe a couple times a year and even then it is just a light dusting. It will rain, but it is nothing you can not handle on a bike. We felt relieved, for after the many harsh South Dakota winters I was not about to attempt to tackle one on a bike, I am an American Dutchmen for crying out loud most of my “strong will” has been lost in translation.
Anyway, as most of you (at least those who are worth anything at all :-) probably know, the first week here in the Netherlands it froze like crazy and we rode to school on a sheet of ice. Needless to say it was an adventure and a first. For who rides bike on ice? I guess the Netherlanders do. We crashed, we laughed, but we arrived at school. It was a good story and being as we just arrived we had not yet lost our romantic appeal for this new land.
Yesterday it began to snow. All the people in this land huddled around their windows and excitement filled the air as they expressed how lucky we were to be here during such a time. I thought I was going to wake up with a Christmas tree and present based on the excitement permeating each passing snowflake. I love Christmas. I love presents. Therefore I was stoked, but I soon realized the terrifying and grotesque truth as the snow continued to fall. Nobody can travel in this land when white things are falling from the air, it doesn’t matter the amount. This applies to Santa as well, and apparently he decided it best to leave Rudolf in the garage while the elves made him a warm cup of coffee in traditional Netherlandic style.
I woke up this morning and the snow continued to fall, but I did not hear the occasional rumblings of snow plows on the streets which so frequently accompany such an event. I began to experience a sort of bewilderment which quickly turned to disgruntled irritation as I realized that the snow they told us would not come did and they are totally unprepared for such an event. Surely without plows for the roads they would not expect us to travel the 20 minute bike ride to Zwolle, but once again this is Europe and all things previously familiar are completely unfamiliar. It soon dawned on me that in all my years of living in snow filled SD I had never rode my bike in the snow. I have many logical reasons for this, but apparently the rules have changed and I strapped up and prepared for the trek.


It started to snow harder. The bike paths were mushy slap pulling us from one side to the other and we soon fell into the long line of bikes trekking into Zwolle (at a faster pace than the cars I might add, the snow traffic here is hilarious:-). We finally made it to class looking like abdominal snowmen abandoning our native habitat in seek of heat. It continued to snow throughout class and slowly my classmates began to file in with most of them failing to show up at all. By the time I left school around 4 hours later the snow finally stopped and approximately 1 foot had fallen with no plows to move it.
The ride home was worse. The slop made it impossible to traverse certain sections of the trip and most people were slowly walking their bikes accepting defeat. I was amazed! Dutchmen accepting defeat?! These people who had conquered the ocean had finally said they have had enough to nature? How could this be? I was soon pulled from my thoughts as my bike hit a patch of ice, my front tired grabbed onto the wet snow, and thankfully my leg caught me from falling completely. I quickly dismounted and proceeded to walk with only my thoughts (and a few other words) to occupy my mind. And here is what I came up with.
Yes, they may be rather clever with harnessing the wind and using its power to drive back the ocean, but you think they could figure out a way for a windmill to do more than just pump water. Those things are ginormous for crying out loud. How about turning them into huge leaf blowers but instead of leaves have them blow snow. Because to tell you the truth, frozen water does not pump all to well, which makes these mills utterly useless. Then my feet started to get cold walking through the snow and I realized that I was in fact wearing my only shoes, my favorite shoes, the greatest shoes in the world that in America have lasted me 2 whole years. They have been my friend. They have hugged my feet with each advancing step. I have adored these shoes, but once again the Netherlands is not a big fan. I think we all know the shoe of choice in this land is wooden. Who the heck would wear a wooden shoe I wondered?! It amazed me, but today as my feet were freezing because of the holes in my shoes I think I finally figured it out.

1. Wood floats. The Netherlands has a ton of water and it is therefore logical that the people here would wear wooden shoes so they have floatation devices just in case the dikes broke through. Well the Dikes have not yet broke so the Dutch people have started to get a little cocky and are starting to wear more modern shoes, especially of the Pumba variety, but I am sure there are still a few hard core Dutchmen out there sporting their floatation devices on their feet.
2. Wood slides easily. In fact, it would work great as a sled. A polished wooden shoe would be absolutely spectacular if I had a rope attached to a moving vehicle. Thus, it appears that these wooden shoes are even prepared for the winter months as they are easily transformed into a type of ski transporting one between locations obviously not passable via bike.
3. There are two shoes. You have two butt cheeks. I believe this one is blatantly obvious! By subtly changing from a standing position to a sitting position you have a Dutch inner tube perfect for traveling down snow covered hills or once again being pulled behind moving vehicles.

There you have it. A three point lesson on wooden shoes, about as good as a traditional Dutch three part sermon, but with intense real world applicability (I only say this because I don’t understand any of the points in a traditional Dutch 3 point sermon because I don’t understand Dutch. Therefore if you are by any chance reading this pastor Cal, worry not. I always find your sermons to have intense applicability [sometimesJ]). Anyway, I believe the trains are running again and I am making a trip out to Paris and Geneva for the weekend. Talk to you all soon!

The Q&A Section

After a wonderful e-mail filled with invigorating questions I have decided to open my site up for a little reader writer interaction. I therefore will now begin a little Q&A section of the blog which I like to call “The Q&A Section of the Blog which is actually just another part of the blog within the grand scheme of things” therefore if any of my avid readers out there wish to have their questions asked please send all questions to my secretary at dustin_vhaar@hotmail.com. As I am obviously not able to get to the large quantities of fan mail coming into my mailbox daily I will respond to as many as possible. On behalf of the Dustin Vander Haar blog-site we would like to thank you all for your support and interest in the past and future travels of Dustin Vander Haar.

The Q&A Section of the Blog which is actually just another part of the blog within the grand scheme of things.

Are all Dutch people economically conservative?
From what it seems like to me a majority of them are but things are also a ton more expensive over here. The euro is worth more than the dollar and they say it has driven up prices on a lot of things. Still, the American saying of “going dutch” does seem to have some validity.

Beer in church would increase attendance!
I sure think so!

Hottie's in church would increase attendance!
Once again Glen, nobody can argue with your impeccable logic.

Another word for stubborn is persistence!
And another word for lazy is energy efficient!

Anyone would acquire persistence if you wished to convert the ocean to farm land!
Or just too much time on their hands:-)

Where are the windmills? After all, the windmills pumped the water over the dikes to drain the ocean!
Honestly, they are everywhere. I think every city has at least a few old biggies. It is also really cool to see the brand new ones you see all over in the Midwest here together churning the air with their ancient brethren. I should probably actually take a few pictures of them eh?

Talk about the dikes, was there a statue of Peter? The kid who placed his finger in a hole in the dike, which saved the entire nation from flooding!
I am told his actual name is Hans Brinker and the statue resides in Spaardam Holland. Looks like I just attained one more must see place on my list!

Why no cell phones? I could not travel to Europe if my cell phone did not function.
Well the people here do have cell phones, but my fellow travelers and I do not being as our American service provided would like to charge us an arm and a leg to use it over here so we just do without. It is really funny to see people riding on their bikes and talking on the phone though, I wonder if they can get a ticket for that??

Did you need to convert your currency to the Euro?
Yes, but with all the countries around here using the euro it is actually very nice to not have to continually change my money to the country I am in. Yet, the Euro is more expensive.

What is the exchange rate? To your advantage or disadvantage?
I believe one US dollar is approximately .75 Euro or something like that. Disadvantages, things are more expensive. Advantages, I can surprisingly find 6 euro worth of change in my pocket with only 3 coins, it is a pleasant surprise I tell ya.

Is the famous red light district glitzy like Las Vegas or run down like south side of Chicago?
It is more run down like southern Chicago. Nothing to spectacular, and at night the people there can be really weird. But then you see the business suit professionals there as well. It is a strange place that is for sure, although Amsterdam itself is a beautiful city.

Are Americans well received in the Netherlands?
From what I have experienced we are. Plus everyone here speaks English, and most of the time at least with the kids my age, they want to speak English to show off and just practice so that is nice. I hear my excursion to Paris next weekend may be a bit different though!!

Are the locals happy with their socialistic society?
The locals seem to be very proud of the Netherlandic heritage and I assume that they are happy with their socialized society as well although I have not yet had a good discussion about the topic yet. I will though they do hate the high taxes, just for you and I will get back to you on this soon.

How well does the socialized medicine work? I need to know in case Hillary becomes our next president.
They say that if you go in for a checkup the Dr. just tells you go to back home and get some rest. They don’t seem to think all too highly of it, but I will make sure to get back to you with more information in the future.

Have you checked out the small city of Huizen? I frequently told afabricated story to my kids and anyone who asked about my heritage, that the Van Hulzen family originated from the small town of Huizen. Since van means from, John Van (from) the city of Huizen was changed accidentally as the "i" in Huizen, became and "l" due to an illegible letter, which resulted in the current name John Van Hulzen. Everyone just sucked up that story!
Glen, I believe I just may have to do that and when I get there perhaps I will have to share that with the locals and maybe be treated as royalty. Perhaps we could tweak the story to explain how the city was named after Grandpa? Let’s get together and discuss…

Grandpa Koelewyn's fishing boat probably sailed out of the dried up port you visited!
I wonder if he was mad when he returned from sea and his freaking parking place was dried up. I would have been pissed!!!!

What is the one coarse you are taking while there?
I am currently taking the course “Traveling around Europe 101” it is a great time and usually only takes place on the weekends. During the week I take “Planning Travels around Europe 201” and this takes place throughout the remainder of the week, it is quite enjoyable.

Are there any World War II memorials in the area?
Yes I do believe so although they have not shown us any. They have told us the story behind the Bridge we must bike over every day to get to school though. Apparently it was one of the few bridges connecting unoccupied Netherlands to newly occupied German territory and therefore it was of pivotal importance during WWII as people fled to the north of the Netherlands and also brought food from the North back home. Most of this was all done through the use of this bridge.

Are the Olympics covered well?
They sure love their Winter sports, and they sure were upset with their speed skating team this year.

Do you need to watch CNN to keep up with current events?
Yea I really should, although I never really watch TV while I am here. To tell you the truth I have no clue what is going on in the world besides that some Olympic skaters in orange crashed into each other.

What do the locals do in their spare time?
Well my family loves to be active and they absolutely adore nature. They are either working out at the local gym, jogging, walking, or biking through the beautiful forest near the small town of Hattem. Other times they are gathered around coffee and tea in discussion.

Is the populace in better physical shape than the oversized Americans?
Heck yea! I rarely see an oversized Netherlander. But then again, I only ride my bike in the Netherlands and how many oversized people do you see riding a bike?

Which stereo type has proven to be true and which is totally unjustified?
It does seem like the cheap Dutchmen does have its validity. The most unjustified is the idea that they eat meat and potatoes. More like cheese and bread (But potatoes is huge too)

Connie wants to know what the shopping is like?
I have done very little shopping, but according to the girls on the trip the fashion here is much better. Also, if you intend to go shopping here you have to get it done early as all the shops close around 6 except on certain governmentally sanctioned evenings where they are allowed to stay open later. It has seemed similar in the other cities I have visited as well.

End of the Current Q&A Section of the Blog which is actually just another part of the blog within the grand scheme of things.