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.