On International Affairs

As promised, I've visited Brussles, Belgium, and Amsterdam, Holland. I took some pictures, jotted a few notes, and will devote most of my post to these two, one-day adventures.
See pictures here http://www.flickr.com/photos/14678278@N02/ (the same page) They are big, and took a long time to upload, for what that's worth.

These trips are organized by the International Student group at the school. The students pay a fee for the bus, and it's a free for all once we get to the city. It took four hours to get to Amsterdam, which made for a long day, and not enough visiting time. Anyway, it's cheap travel, and an option I don't have at U of I.

Brussels

Brussels is a city of chocolate, and so, logically, happy people. A pleasant relief from the stern outlook of the French, the merry Belgiums and their capital city, capital, in fact, of the European Union, host flocks of tourists among the unpredictable assortment of new and old architecture. Aside from chocolate, spheres were a dominant theme. Obviously Atomium, the tourist trap that dominates the city's skyline, composed of enormous steel balls. The iconic sphere is repeated throughout the city, from its fountains, to doorstops, and even the plump cheeks and chocolate truffles propogated the sphere. Perhaps it signifies the nation's belief in compromise, and distaste for pointed comments.



The weather was terrific, sunny with fluffy clouds, but the wind was cold. I accompanied, or was accompanied by, two German girls, and two Greek girls. We spent the most of our day atop a double decker tour bus, either shielding ourselves from the wind, or taking photos to show our friends, or put on various under-read blogs. Churches and cathedrals in Europe, contrary to the midwest, where they resemble, well, churches in cornfields, display majestic spires hidden around corners, and remain an inspiring sight, as they must have been for the populations of men so many centuries ago, that walked the same streets hauling carts filled with horse manure. We made a special expedition to find the pissing fountain boy, who was remarkable small, yet detailed, and I suppose proportionate to a real boy.



Amsterdam.

Holland marks my 6th country I have stepped foot in, in my lifetime. Perhaps someday it will mark the 6th planet that an E.T. has visited, but I saw no such aliens on my visit, despite the plethora of legal hallucinogens available (mushrooms, liquid X, marijuana) for anyone with more than 18 years of age. It was three Canadian girls I tagged along with this time, fearing that my directional skills would be insufficient in the city of overambundant landmarks--it took time to adjust to the multitude bell towers, and bridges, and the recurring sense of deja-vu they incurred. I prefer this city to Brussels, the architecture is consisitent in period, and beautifully colored and ornate, and because of the plethora of bikes, of pretty women with brown hair, and because I find the sound of bells soothing.



We stopped at the Anne Frank museum, but it had been sufficiently touriturized to merit a block-long line, and time was too limited to wait in line. We stopped by the highest bell-tower, which would have provided a beautiful view of the city, had it not closed half an hour before we arrived. Another well-known lookout spot costed too much, so we vistited the mall next door, which was disappointingly only two stories high. I did buy a wool sweater, and the Canadian girls taught me how to tie my wool scarf, and with my wool gloves, I'm ready for winter in France. My French has become strong enough to speak French in non-speaking countries, to a cashier who will revert to Englsih, and I will reluctuntly, full of posh, pretend that it is my second language, in which I am very fluent. I must say a few things about the prostitutes, who sat poised behind windows in the red-light district, in lingerie, tapping on the glass at me. Sorry, there's no pictures, it seems like it would have been rude.



It's difficult to walk through Amsterdam without imagining being a famous painter. The highlights of the canals in the crepuscule, the orange and brown tints in the dresses of women carrying bundles wrapped in brown paper, the corner houses made with windows, and the boats, the cars, the bikes, the people, the trolleys, and the possibility of existing as a recluse amongst all of this, the rouge pommetes of the girls, red cheeks of the women, the vibrancy of earth leaking through the flowers, trees, and the feathers of a swan. Home to more art museums than any other city, I recommend a week visit devoted to visiting them, particuliarly the Van Gogh museum, living peacefully, and maybe bringing a scratch pad to capture the essence in the lines of the cobblestone walks.



Shortcomings of the Residence
The nice thing is it costs 165€ per month. The downside is it has one computer available six hours a day, that is probably ten years old. The recreation room consists of three ping-pong tables with floppy paddles, the weightroom of one tread-mill and one pull-down machine. There are two washers, and one dryer, there is no elevator, and the showers have pressure comparable onle to those of 630 Bloomington.


Other News

Granting all goes well, my status as uncle will be fortified in November, and my dear sister Darci is due on the 14th.

My sister Theresa is going to visit me for Christmas, so I have much to prepare for before then: making my room less of a baren place, more like a home.

I won a $4000 scholarship, for being Iowan, and having a 3.5.

Visits to London and Bruge and the future, but not for one month, so I expect to post before then. Possible subjects include: "The new French revolution, wool, leather, and stainless steel for all," and "How to ignore that really annoying American girl by pretending that you don't speak English."