talking the talk

I'll admit it.

I have been pretty lazy about speaking Dutch since the end of my taalcursus back in August.

The first week after I had moved into my Amsterdam apartment I started an intensive, three week-long 'pre-intermediate' level Dutch class. I was in class for four hours a day, four days a week, and studied for about three hours at home each night. I had a decent enough grounding in the (written) Dutch language when I arrived here thanks to about a years' worth of evening classes I had taken at the University of Toronto. I could figure out how to get around, buy my groceries, stammer out a few sentences, and knew when people were swearing. With my clumsy beginnings, I felt that just two things were really holding me back from true fluency, from really talking the talk:

1. my 'ear'. When I arrived I had a really hard time with hearing what people said. Not surprisingly, most Dutch people speak a hell of a lot faster than my lovely teacher back in Canada. Pile on this all the different accents and slang that doesn't appear in either dictionary or textbook, and I felt like I was just hearing a lot of gutteral noises for the first week or so.
   
2. my own lack of confidence in my abilities. I never feel like I know enough vocabulary, or I worry about my pronunciation or word order. I hate making mistakes. (In other words, all the normal joys and tribulations of learning a new language were getting me down.)
   

Well, my vocabulary grew significantly during my course and since then has continued to expand. I read at least a bit of Dutch everyday (even if it's just subtitles on the tv or a recipe). I have a few Dutch television shows I watch regularly. I can understand people pretty well now, although I often still have to ask them to speak more slowly. The only thing continuing to hold me back from true language proficiency is my clinging lack of confidence in speaking.

My lack of confidence, and well, laziness. The fact that is that everyone here not only speaks English to me, but usually prefers to do so. For the sake of conversation and bowing to my timidness, I usually let them. One of our constant complaints during our course was that even when we tried to practice our Dutch in everyday situations (ordering a koffie, doing the boodschappen, talking with the buren about the weather), the Dutch people we attempted to converse with would often notice that we were not native speakers and would almost automatically start speaking to us in English. I think that this is especially the case in Amsterdam. In terms of doing my research, the ability to converse about serious subjects in English (i.e. during an interview) was one of the reasons I decided on Amsterdam over another city, or a smaller village (where English is less common). But in terms of learning the language, it really makes it a bit trickier, especially because one has to work that much harder to get the practice in, or not lapse into laziness.

During my course I thought about what it must be like for people living here and trying to learn Dutch for their civic integration requirements (inburgering). With English as a commonly spoken language between Dutch people and foreigners, what must it be like for those living here who don't speak English? This was brought home to me again yesterday (actually, really today when recounting the episode from yesterday to my friend Mike and he said something brilliant, and thus, here I am blogging about language - happy, Mike?). Yesterday, I was walking up my street on the way back from the Central Station when a man asked me for directions - in Dutch. He first asked me if I spoke Dutch. I replied with "Ja, een kleine beetje." (Yes, a little bit.) And he proceeded to ask me if his directions to the Dam Square were correct. I thought I understood most of what he had said, but to be sure I had to ask him to speak a little slower. Now, usually this is the point where the conversation switches to English. This time, however, he asked me if I spoke Spanish. Since I don't speak Spanish and he didn't speak English, the only common language between me and my new Columbian friend was Dutch (which he spoke beautifully)! So, he spoke slower for me, I understood exactly what he was saying, he humoured my slow and clunky sentence construction and grasping for words to try to describe my research, and we had a nice little conversation about what we were both doing here. It actually felt great to finally be required to really rely on my Dutch skills. It also showed me that I do have a good level of comprehension, and that it really is my timidness holding me back.

The point of this long and winding tale is that it has gotten me thinking about the importance of the Dutch language, the seeming omnipresence of English, and what I am doing here. It has gotten the little language-cogs in my brain churning again, even if it hasn't untied my tongue... yet. Most of the people I have come into contact with so far have been well-educated, often university students, graduates, researchers. The fact is that the only person who I have had to speak Dutch with in months was another foreigner! Tomorrow, I am attending training so that I can begin volunteering to help 'at risk' youth learn to speak English. The people I need to get in touch with research-wise will hopefully come from all different classes, and so, like the kids I'm going to be teaching, wont have quite the same high-level of fluency in English.

So, it looks like it's back to class for me, in more ways than one. I plan to get in touch with Gilde Amsterdam, an organization that, among other things, arranges speaking partners for people who want to improve their Dutch (the SamenSpraak programme). I have learned a lot about Dutch culture and people since I've been here, but still need to work on talking the talk. Literally.

the (sometimes) joys of global flows

Yesterday was pretty eventful. In a nice way, but also in a way that has me thinking about just how interconnected certain places have become, and how normalized these connections really are.

I had a great lunch meeting with a PhD student from UvA's ASSR, discussing our research together over koffie verkeerds en warme geitenkaas broodjes (that's wrong coffees and warm goat's cheese sandwiches - yum!). Later she showed me to the UvA anthropology and sociology library, which is in an old VoC building on the Kloveniersburgwal, and introduced me to another colleague, who sent me some pdfs of a book that I had kind of glanced over about a year and a half ago while in Canada, but would probably find much more useful and interesting now. (Yay for helpful people!)

After that I cycled over to the De Groen Olifant cafe, where I met with a new friend who is writing a book about the celebration of NYC's 400th anniversary and the Netherlands' involvement in those events. It's going to be really cool. Mostly interviews with peope who were somehow involved with organizing the event, on both sides of the Atlantic.

And then after that I went with my flatmate to the movies. We were planning to see the latest apocolyptic blockbuster 2012, but it was quickly selling out. So, rather than seeing another mainstream flick from Hollywood, we decided to check out what was happening at the IDFA - the International Documentary Filmfestival Amsterdam. I am actually really glad we did. At 6 Euros for admission to a film, it was less expensive than a regular film, and definitely something I don't get the chance to see everyday. We went to see Taqwacore: The Birth of Punk Islam. It was a really interesting, funny, and well-made documentary, and I would encourage everyone to check it out. (And not just because it was made by a couple Canadians, and features a couple media clips with Canada's CBC 'boyfriends' Jian and George... which, not gonna lie, made me pretty excited.) Oddly, I think Taqwacore was one of those things that I saw was happening in Toronto while I was here, and I was a little bummed about missing. Now, if only Anna Tsing would come give a talk here in a month or so... Maybe if the tradewinds are blowing in the right direction?

sinterklaas is coming to town!

Well, Sinterklaas is actually here now...! On Saturday I trekked on over to Schiedam (about an hour by train from Amsterdam Centraal, but practically spitting distance from Rotterdam), with my flatmate and a couple of friends to the official arrival of Sinterklaas to the Netherlands for 2009. (You can click on the picture at left to follow a link to the Schiedam City site with more official or 'nice and in focus' pictures. Exciting!)

Sinterklaas is kind of the Dutch version of the North American Santa Claus. Both figures share the same kindly face, white beard, and penchant for dressing in red and being followed around by 'helpers', but are quite different in terms of cultural trappings and history, plus they come on different days. Sinterklaas or Sint Nicolaas actually comes on the evening of the feast day of Sint Nicolaas, December 5th. So, Sinterklaasavond (Sinterklaas evening) is actually the important holiday as far as gift giving goes, and Christmas is usually a quieter family occasion with a nice meal.

Every year, Sinterklaas comes by steamboat from Spain, (not the North Pole) with his 'helpers', the Zwarte Pieten (Black Petes). He also rides around once in the Netherlands on a white horse. (The connection from Spain has to do with the complicated history of Spainish colonialism as well as the history of the saint himself. The Zwarte Piet phenomenon is a bit more interesting - at least to me as a Canadian and as an anthropologist...) Since he comes by boat, he only ever makes his official landing in cities in the north of the country, along the coast. This means that while pretty much everyone in the country grows up watching his arrival and festivities following it on television, not everyone actually gets to experience seeing it first hand. (I feel pretty lucky.) When we arrived at the train station, my flatmate was "Oh, I forgot about this! We should have dressed up!" The station was awash in a sea of excited children dressed as mini-Zwarte Pieten, that is to say in funny little outfits with colourful pants and caps with feathers, or with the red mitre hat of Sinterklaas himself, or even with steamboat hats. The children weren't the only ones getting into the spirit of things. We came across two regular Zwarte Pieten at the station handing out peppernoten and candies from a burlap sack to all the kids, and to me as well. I have to admit, I was pretty excited to see Sinterklaas myself. After meeting up with the fabulous Ms. Long just outside the station, we followed the general flow of foot traffic to the parade route (via steamboat): the canal! That's right, I forgot that everything happens on the canals here, including most parades. We parked ourselves across from the Scouting centre, with it's homemade banner welcoming everyone as well as the guests of honour. We got there pretty early, and had to wait about an hour with the rest of the children before the bridge was raised and the Pakjesboot 12 steamed on by. In the meantime, there was a lot of singing (there is a song that everyone knows except me), and laughing, and waiting while the grey skies cleared and the sun came out. And then, the bridge was raised! And everyone began to cheer and sing and wave! Sinterklaas was here!


But, yeah, the Zwarte Pieten thing is still a bit of a mystery to me. Basically, the character of Zwarte Piet is played by a white Dutch person in a really colourful outfit and in blackface. Wearing blackface is pretty much unthinkable in North America, as the recent controversy over a group of white University of Toronto students dressed a Jamacian bobsled team for Hallowe'en has shown. But the histories and every day realities of racial politics have been very different in Europe and in North America, and have made people in Canada (in general) relatively more reflexive and cautious when is comes to discussions about race and ethnicity than here.

Of course, it's not all (pardon the expression) black and white, here either. I've heard a couple of different explanations, but I think that for the most part, when questioned about it people seem a little uncomfortable - whether its with the actual figure of Zwarte Piet or with the concerns over appearing racist. The first time I heard about Zwarte Piet was from my Dutch teacher back in Canada. She explained him as a remnant of history (i.e. colonialism, slavery) that had become entrenched in contemporary popular culture. She said that a few years ago, in an effort to be more politically correct, there were attempts to phase out black Pete with green and blue and every other colour Petes, but people thought it was ridiculous and the children wanted Black Pete back. Ms. Long's flatmate gave an alternative explanation: that Zwarte Piet is black because he's the one that goes down the chimney, and so is covered with soot. Also interesting is whether or not non-white Dutch people find the blackface of Zwarte Piet offensive. The jury is still out on this one. I've heard some people say that all the discussion is overblown and too worried about being politically correct. Alternatively, I've heard about a story where growing up black in the Netherlands meant that when your mom showed up to pick you up after school, lots of little white kids ran up to her shouting "Zwarte Piet! You're too early!" Either way, it is a very interesting phenomenon and has given me a lot to ponder in terms of how ideas of race, history, and normative culture fit together here.

helpful people!

The more people I meet here, the more I realize how helpful people in general can be. There are certainly times when I am apt to gripe about people not returning emails (maybe it's more of a phone culture here?), but in everyday interactions most people seem keen to have a discussion about my research, or pass on some names of people I should contact, or offer to put me in touch with people or organizations. It's amazing!

Like today, I had a meeting with the good people at Hart voor Amsterdam since I want to volunteer to help with their Native Speakers Project. This is a really cool project that gets volunteers (mostly expats who are native English speakers) involved in helping 'at risk' youth learn and/or improve their English language skills. I thought doing some volunteer work would be a good way to get involved with different people in Amsterdam, feel like I'm doing something productive and useful with my time that gives back in some way, gets me out of the house at a decent hour at least once a week, and hopefully puts me in contact with people who can help my own research. While most of those items would be easy to check off, I knew the last bit might be tricky to do (and I did/ do have some ethical concerns about the whole volunteer/ research thing, but will just have to pay attention to that as the story unfolds...). But, much to my surprise, the lovely woman I chatted with this afternoon offered to help put me in contact with lots of people and organizations connected through Hart voor Amsterdam. I didn't even have to ask!

Of course, helpful people show up in a lot less formal situations as well. This is the nature of fieldwork, and I suppose a dilemma faced by most anthropologists at some point or other. Every event can count as research, regardless of one's state of, um, sobriety... On Saturday I had a good evening visiting people for drinks in Utrecht before coming back to Amsterdam to a very fun house party. I talked to a lot of people that night about many different things, I am sure, but (unfortunately?) over quite a few adult bevvies. Socially: a great night. Social anthropologically speaking: a learning experience, if not quite a success. The jotted note of people and places to check out that I found in my pocket on a kind of fuzzy-headed Sunday morning (written by a new friend in Utrecht on her own handy notepaper) has reminded me of the importance of carrying small little notebooks or bits of paper around at all times, because no matter what I am getting up to, I never quite leave the 'field' and helpful people are everywhere.

a little bit of the balkans in NL

Even though I missed out on Hallowe'en this past weekend, I had a lot of fun learning a little bit about the Balkans at the Balkan Snapshots Film Festival. It was held at a cool little theatre called Kriterion, and also featured music, lectures and debates, and had a nice cafe with good coffee. The whole thing was presented in English (i.e. talks, debates and film subtitles), which is kind of interesting in itself, and seems to be the way that events get marked as international.

The most interesting film I saw was part of a short documentary programme called Blue wall red door, by Alban Muja (who was at the screening) and Yll Citaku. In the city of Prishtina, like many other areas in Kosovo, the street names have been changed so often by each different regime since the war that the names themselves no longer have local meaning. The street names had been changed and rechanged to reflect the language and public figures important to each sucessive regime - basically every few years - that each street now has at least three different names. Besides being incredibly confusing in terms of reading a map, the result of this rapid renaming has been that locals have just stopped trying to learn the names of the streets - leaving the rebranding efforts of each regime to fall on more or less deaf ears. In effect, for the past 15 years or so, people haven't bothered to use the street names, and often have no idea what the official name of even their own street is (street numbers are a whole other issue). Rather, people locate addresses through the use of local landmarks - things like well known restaurants, the (former) homes of famous people, or even places that were well known but no longer actually exist: like a place known as the 'blue wall' which is actually painted red now, or an old mill that is now the site of a new hotel building. The film traces how people navigate and negotiate public space in a place where maps are pretty much useless and finding an address means knowing the social landscape, or finding locals who do. (For instance, mail carriers who have to deliver letters where the address is written something like: So and so, blue wall red door, this neighbourhood, near this other neighbourhood. Or, ambulances and firefighters who are directed to the nearest minimarket, or just have to follow the smoke.) The conflicts and political shifts have cultivated a whole, seemingly makeshift culture around understanding the city space.

I think most people, even if they are sticklers for navigating by compass, do use certain landmarks (places of personal or more widely social significance) to relate to and understand their surroundings. But to have to rely solely on landmarks - places that might have more longevity than the streetnames, but are still likely to change over time (consider that political monuments were only slightly more permanent than street names during this period in this place) - I can only begin to imagine how that reshapes your relation to your home. Anyway, it is an amazing film that has given me a lot to think about in terms of how people relate to the social landscape of their city or neighbourhood.

in a land without hallowe'en...

Since I've been here, my mother at least, has been surprised that the holidays are different in the Netherlands than in Canada. Earlier this month, she was surprised that the Dutch don't celebrate Thanksgiving (in October or November), and today she was surprised to learn that Hallowe'en isn't a thing here either.

Well, it isn't really a thing here, at least among the Dutch. It's kind of a globalized import commodity. I have seen a few posters about the city in recent weeks advertising parties (often with a pricey cover charge), but other than that, Hallowe'en is still generally seen as an American holiday, and is only really enjoyed by expats and tourists. I've explained a few times to people here that in Canada, Hallowe'en is popular among kids (for the candy and excuse to dress up in a fun costume) and among young people in their 20s or so (for the booze and excuse to dress up in a costume...). I've been told that the Dutch have kind of a similar holiday (at least as far as the children are concerened) in Sint Maarten's Dag, which happens in November.

I actually quite like Hallowe'en. It's a holiday that combines the morbid and terrifying with the whimsical and fanciful, plus there's candy! What's not to love? I do, however, have a habit of missing out on fabulous parties (though a couple years ago a friend and I made it down to the Toronto's 'gayberhood' - which was a dance party of the most amazing costumes I have ever seen.) Not surprisingly, I missed out on the party again this year. While the anthropologist in me is looking forward to hopefully seeing children parading around with paper lanterns on November 11th, the girl who likes Hallowe'en in me was pleasantly surprised to spot a party spilling out onto the street as I left a restaurant with my friend this evening - especially since one of the revellers was a guy in a Leafs jersey.