A day in the week of.....

My first job interview! Even though it took place last Friday, I'm still proud of myself for finding out about it. And even though I walked out in the middle of it (I'll explain) they still want me to work for them. And even though I really really can't, I'm still pretty pleased with the fact that I got the offer...

So, the story here is that I reacted on a position for Bosch Communications (yes, the ones that make the powertools, but surprisingly, they have a whole franchise of things going on including security and communication branches) who are in desperate need of Scandinavian speakers (according to them Dutch can be classified as Scandinavian it seems) to handle German airline Lufthansa assesments. (offering people 50 quid if they've filed complaints or send thank-yous to big CEOs who travel on a regular basis)

I went to the Bosch office --poshly situated in the middle of the Exchange district; the nicest part of town where Armani suits and Manolo Blahnik's roam the pavement-- to take part in their training day. This is the part where I walked out after an hour, but only because I kindly informed them that I wasn't going to be available to attend the 4 week training session they had in mind for all the newly recruited language wonders. No hard feelings (except that I'd left my bed at 6.30 for nothing) and I'm already looking out for summat new....Thing is...They still want me! Recruitment agency emailed me back that they want to negotiate hours with me....I'd say this is a 'to be continued'

*Picture is of the entrance to the Cotton Exchange, where Bosch's office is at*

Sooo, also spent another wonderful weekend in Manchester. Bart had organised a Karaoke night just because I was coming, bless him. It was a hoot, were it not that we were all slightly drunk and ate almost everything edible in his cupboard. Sorry 'bout that, but Molly was very happy :D

Went to the Bombed out Church and the Cathedral....

Oh bugger....

I auditioned yesterday...I basically stunk...

Ok, so the story is, I'm in the Drama society, the dramas preform 4 plays each semester. This time round it's The Tragical history of Doctor Faustus, Crime and Punishment, A Midsummer night's dream and Claxons, Trumpets and Raspberries. I want to be in one of them. Preferably as an actor, but if not, perhaps backstage. Now, I auditioned, or tried to, for Claxons first. I realised I'm not very good at modern plays cus I had no clue how to portray this character I had to read. (Besides that, my mind was on the 3000 euro the tax officers thought I had to pay back, but thankfully that turned out to be not me) Aaaanyway. I was rubbish and decided never to audition again.

I did though, for Faustus, and even if I don't get cast for anything, which I think is the case, I still think I did a good job! I found out I'm much much better at Old 1600's iambic pentamater plays than at something that has to resemble the present...I was indeed born in the wrong century. Sooooo, now I'm going to try out for something a good buddy of mine wrote, my old friend William. Maybe I can be a fairy...I bet I can flutter about on stage a little....doesn't even have to be lines really.

In other news, I discovered the pleasure that is eating potato waffels at 11 o' clock at night. Seriously, the pure delight of a warm, steaming yellow ovensnack with some mayo and ketchup after you've been out in the cold is incomparable to any other thing you could be doing at 11 o'clock in the evening. No, don't try to agrue, you can't. Potato goodness, throathy warmth and greasy fingers all in one. Secondly, I'm also very pleased with the little fact I'm will be writing for the University magazine, arts section, which entails free passes to any concert, gig, theatre event etc I want to attend if only I write an article about it for the paper. yay, I've got some ideas in the back of my head that will serve that purpose, and my own, very well.

Again, a visual impression....

Just a wee look into Liverpool's greatest assets (to be completely honest, there are some bum-ugly buildings out there, and half of the suburb is boarded up because the houses are uninhabitable...but the centre is gorgeous at times:)

1. The Liverpool 'Piazza' - Walker Art Gallery, the fountain and some scousers
2. The students of John Moores get to stay in this little picture of a house...lucky buggers.

3. I think this was Liverpools Boyscout club or something....it's now the local YMCA (Though walking around the Pool in an Indian/Police/leather/or whatever those blokes where wearing- outfit will not be a very wise thing to do...)

4. This little park called 'Abercromby Square' (For the linguists under us: short cat-vowel, not long phase-vowel) is just around the corner from my humble abode. It's quite nice, and I can't believe there's still flowers out and about while the temp is gradually dropping below acceptable Myrthe levels)

So that's a little impression of the things see or walk by everyday. I will, in the near future, shoot and post some things from the other end of the scales; there's still a lot of decayishness and bad architectural ideas going on here. For instance my Faculty is basically a step down from my Leiden Arts Fac, and that's when I thought buildings couldn't go any lower on the ugly scale. Also some of the areas are still very 'Northeren town -trying to be a metropole but actually not grasping the thought behind it'-ish. In addition, as I said before, the suburbs, some of them, are a sad picture. Possibly comparable to the Amsterdam lowlife areas outside the citycentre; there's scum walking the streets, little bored children throwing bottlecaps at passing cars, and bums playing tiny broken off-key flutes asking passers-by for money to buy some 'food' -- unless booze and crack have suddenly become part of the five food group pyramid, I highly doubt they will...

But luckily, this is not the main feeling that Liverpool oozes, no, it's more a City on the rise. A city that wants to make a name for itself, a good name. As of January 2008, Liverpool will be the Capital of Culture, and everybody is trying very hard to get that message across. Intricate systems of scaffolding are dominating many of the lovely Liverpool facades and city counsel workers are tidying up many of the small parks and greens around town. I bet that in a few months time the city will come out of it's little extreme makeover as nothing less than a (be it in her Northeren moderation and still a bit akward on it's feet) beautiful swan...So, no reason not to come visit in the year 2008!

The Dutch in me

It's Sunday today. A very gloomy, tissue sniffing Sunday. A perfect day to spend inside a stuffy, overcrowded hall shuffling past little booths and stalls were every imaginable student related society, union, music venue, transport association and other loonies pass out free promotional items, flyers and food. It's Freshers Fair today and the goal is to get as many flabbergasted Uni newbies to sign up for what you are advertising. This, first of all, is done by shoving leaflets and information booklets in everyone's hands; irrespective of your desire to receive them. I, for instance, was supposedly suited to be handed flyers to join the Malay speaking society, the Men's Frisbee club and the Gothic appreciation group. I am neither from Malasya, a man or a goth (even though I was wearing a black jacket and some eyeliner).

However; I was very happy to receive the info on the Drama, the Culture and the English societies, and will probably sign up for these in any case.

Secondly, this signing up thing is achieved by providing you with free items. Ranging from a marshmallow or gummybear to, to my ever Dutch Delight, a disposable camera, an assault alarm for icky harass pervs, and shotglasses. (I won't ever use them mummy! I'll only drink juice from them, I promise) These were things that you could actually get me out of bed at 8.30 for. Besides that, I snatched a few nice stickers and postcards from somewhere, and got some new canvas bags for my groceries.



On a different note: in the last couple of days I: signed up for all my classes, bought Bridget Jones' Diary for one pound, got myself a free Liverpool Central Library membership and took out half of the chick lit department, discovered H&M is sadly NOT the cheapest shop around, Asda sells ontbijtkoek and met the latest addition to our flat; my roommate Chris and his gf Dani (which makes the total of Danis in my house 2 and the final count of 'Jos' 2 as well) who are both very nice and very British

One other thing I discovered, only a few of the homeys eat vegetables, and none of the N-Irish like to eat them at all. It might be something very British, but it seems the closest they come to getting their vitamin levels up is eating beans on toast and drinking Cranberry squash. I get very weird looks when I prepare my stir-fry with my 'legume mix' -fresh spinach, red onion, corn, garlic and carrot- in my new wok (God, I love my wok). So now my aim is to make them something delicious someday to show them that veg are cool. Cus they are. Seriously cool. Go veg!

Roomie pics

It's still a bit of a mess, my room, but then again, I doubt that will ever change. I do love my mess...

Anyway... a little accomanying text; that colourful thing that's trying to resemble a face is actually a genuine Sylvia Plath painting (Sylke, that's cool innit!?) I didn't really like it at first but it's growing on me and making the place look a little brighter. (God, how I hate white wood furniture and you can see, how Murphy, it's all around me)

The three posters I bought are the ones on the door and on the wall in that one picture. And the other one I got for free. (Thanks Bart!)


I've got some pinboards to pin up photos and the like. And a very very large desk that can hold all my clutter fabulously. All in all quite nice, no?

Oh right, and I went to Bart's over the weekend:

A few days have passed and I'm starting to find my way around town. My second night (that was Thursday I guess) I was party crashing a Theatre school Pub Crawl. Two of my roomies, Jo and Dani, are freshers at LIPA (Liverpool inst. of Preforming Arts) and their mentors found it a wise idea to let a flock of 18yr olds loose in town while wearing wrist bands that provided them with free alcohol... When I was that age (I know I know, that's not been such a long time, but just bear with me) I would've thought it a brilliant plan too. However, one roomie came home in tears, the other couldn't find her way home. I on the other hand had a very good time and handled the complementary cocktail that was thrust upon me while pretending to be a aspiring actress quite lovely. The following two as well. Who'd've thought that cranberry liquor, milk and cream could make such a wonderful drink.....But to make a long story short, my first night out in the town was a success. Liverpool is literally littered with bars, pubs and clubs, and there's something for everyone. There are also plenty of little restaurants and cafes that offer much more than the conventional fish and chips, and there usually are so many veggie options that I don't even to think about ordering 'just the tomato soup please'.


I also pimped my room a little bit. It was so bare and empty that not even a minimalistic Stalinist would feel at home. Uni hosted a big poster sale so three fabulous posters I bought (3 for £10) livend the place up a good deal. But it needs a lot more to make it feel totally like home; I miss all my books so much, and all my little boxes, plants, picture frames and cards that I am used to having around me. However, all of that is made a little more bareable by the fact that I have my own bathroom, I don't know if I mentioned that before, if I did, that is how excited I am about it! I can shower in peace and quiet, leave my stuff lying around on my own bathroom floor and draw smiley faces on my own damp mirror.

Well, I have to say adieu, the library is closing. (Yes, sadly still no internet in my own room, is going to take some more time) But I'll leave you with a picture of the cathedral that my room looks out upon.


(by the by, want to post a message? click the little text balloon or the rabid dogs link, think that does the trick....)

Just some pics....

1-My kitchen
2-My house
3-My view

Scared sheetless

Yes, you can all resume your daily routines, get a normal night's sleep, blow out the prayer candles and in general breathe again; I have arrived... To be precise, I moved into my new flat yesterday afternoon at around 1 o'clock. I almost immediately had to get out again because to my utter surprise, the bedlinnen and other such things that I had expected to be there were in fact not, and the pots and pans that my eyes were trying to find in the kitchen storage had no physical apparation either. Actually, besides the usual major appliances, there were almost no kitchen utensils at all except those of my (then) two (now 5) roomates. So I had to walk downtown (which for some is ideally located on walking distance from my home, but for others (me) a fair bit of trodding away up and down the hill that is Liverpool (where's the pool anyway? It's more like a mountain if you ask me) to buy such and such. Got mistaken for a Swede at one point, but luckily also a Brit, bumped into a very large sweaty Liverpudlian, witnessed the largest queue in history, the worst accent in history, and a major muscle ache from all of the bumping, looking and trudging up hills.

I would like to write more (or for that matter; more eloquently, better spelled and less chaotic) but I only have an hour at the library computers and the reason I am one of those computers is a whole 'nother story in itself.

So, Cheerio for now and I'll be back soon. Hopefully on my own internetconnection where I'll be able to post pictures of my homey and my homeys.

Ok OK! I give up.....

Today I hooked up my Mum's DVD-recorder. I spent about one and a half hours trying to make sense of the manual which they included ("They" being the unknown individuals who make it their life's intent to write and distribute instruction booklets that make no sense whatsoever, drive you mad, and eventually get you so far as to throwing the whole electrical device that you are trying to install out of the window -- even though that last action only takes place in your own little personal fantasy, the whole ordeal is frustrating enough without having to call the glass repair blokes--)

Another "They" I now heartily despise are the men and women of town hall. Last Monday I came to Hoorn on some special Liverpool DYI-Business (It's now become such a burdensome bit of affairs I decided to name it) that I had with Hoorn's municipal centre. I wanted to change my official post address away from Oegstgeest back to my home town. I thought it would be an easy bit of administrative paperwork (at the word and thought paperwork I should've known better of course). How-bloody-ever, by now I've been up and down Hoorn's and Oegstgeest's town halls twice, and next Wednesday I'm off to Oegstgeest again because the lovely tight-bunned lady at the Hoorn desk told me she couldn't help me. I'm slowly becoming a tad frustrated...

On top of all that: (1) there ain't any food starting with a C in the house (because I ate my last Chocolate Chip Cookie, which is triple the fun) and I neeeed it. More than ever. (2) My room is stacked full of boxes, 5 of which contain all my books and all 5 are on the bottom of the very heavy ready to fall over pile so I can't get to them which is sad business in itself but now I'm afraid they'll get crushed. (3) I have to pay my last bit of rent while my paycheck hasn't come through yet and my bank balance is threatening to file a suit for negligence. Finally (4) : I can't find my blowdryer anywhere and my hair is flat....

You can all help me by donating chocolate and coins in little purple ribboned baskets to be left in front of my door.