One week left.

Sweet Fancy Moses! It is cold outside. The beautiful Dutch weather has hit us yet again. The sun has made a brief appearance Saturday, but other than that it has been cold as ice, quite literally. The fountain out in front of the Tribunal froze over today, it was so damn cold. Luckily I only got a week of this left. Unfortunately, I also only have a week left here. As my time here comes to a close, I realize that I'm really going to really miss this place and all the good folk I've met here. Many of my good friends have left recently and the rest of the interns are trickling out this week, so the Tribunal was eerily quiet, as most of the interns bailed out on Friday.
As for this weekend, it was rather uneventful, save for a short trip down to Delft for a bit. I figured, so long as I am in Holland, I should see some local things. It was an interesting little village with a couple of nice churches and the grave of Hugo Grotius, the Godfather of international law. I couldn't let my time here pass without seeing him.


I told you it was literally cold as ice.



One of the two churches in the town square. The steeple appears to have been burned at some point


The other church


The monument to Mr. Grotius and me looking like a jackass.


It took some searching, but I finally found a pair of clogs big enough to fit me.


Another church in the town. This place was very densely packed with places of worship.


The Dutch know how to lay some bling on their bicycles.

And I am out on that note. More to come from my last week, assuming I survive the going away festivities. But, if I have survived three separate Serb parties, I think I can handle this week.

More to come.

I always suspected HTM was trying to kill me.

Ever since my bicycle was stolen, I have been forced to use the public transportation system in the Hague, Hague Transit Management (HTM). This was supposed to be temporary, as I had intended to purchase a new bike as soon as a cheap one was available, but alas, one never came about.
But on with the story, Ever since I started regularly riding the bus and tram here, I have noticed that the time schedule posted on each stop was in no way related to when they would actually arrive at the stop. Due to these irregularities, I have frequently had to wait for upwards of a half hour for a damn bus, as the busses are much more inaccurate than the trams, time wise. Being as soft as I am, I want no part of standing in the cold that long and I know that as soon as I start to walk where I need to be, the bus will show up, so I always wait.
Because of all this lateness, I had assumed the people of HTM were, naturally, out to get me. They had been subtle about it for months, occasionally giving me hope by sending a bus just a few minutes after I got to the stop. Although, more often than I care to count, a bus would pull away just before I get to the stop and the bus driver always ignores my flailing arms and cries to stop. But, alas, these were all suspicions, until Monday.
Monday, I was heading to a movie with some friends, so naturally I took the bus. Seats were scarce, so I took one at the very back. For background, it is necessary to know that the normal HTM busses have three doors, on in front to get on and one each in the middle and the back for exiting. Because I was seated at rear of the buss, I chose the rear exit. Well, supposedly, the bus driver did not notice that I was back there, so at the stop, he opened both exit doors, but the rear door opened and closed very quickly, lodging me in the door. One would think, as a safety mechanism, the doors would reopen with a bit of pressure against them, and I'm sure Boudreaux would back me up here. But, the Dutch will have none of that. The doors were tightly closed on me and wouldn't budge, no matter how hard I pushed. Finally, the driver heard my cries for help and opened the doors again, setting me free at last, thank god almighty.
This driver feigned remorse and apologized, but I know he was part of the greater HTM conspiracy to destroy me.

American Thanksgiving, Coonass included

No worries to everybody, I did get an actual Thanksgiving dinner, although the fascists at the United Nations required that I work that day. These kinds of things are borderline un-American, but when I told them all I got was the whole "we're not an American organization" story. No respect for the modern day hegemon.
But anyways, all was well. A bunch of the American interns at the tribunal threw a bit of a pot luck Thanksgiving dinner after work, with turkey and all the trimmings.
This year, as fate would have it, I got to continue my Thanksgiving tradition of spending some time with a coonass. While this years festivities did not include frying a turkey in Whitey's garage with the mighty coonass duo of him and Boudreaux, the neighbor of the broads who were hosting the dinner came over. And wouldn't you know it, she is a genuine coonass whose family never left Nova Scotia. Goes by the name of Comeaux. So the streak is still alive.
Needless to say, good times were had by all, even by the coonass French Canadian and the two regular Frenchies that were invited as well.

The RedBull Knockout or: How to anger a Swiss girl by holding a motorcycle race on the beach.

Last Sunday was spent at Schreveningen for the Second Annual RedBull Knockout, and believe me, it was glorious. It consisted of 500 bikes tearing ass on the beach for upwards of three hours. Some, like my Swiss officemate say this is madness, but nay, I say, there is no better a sight than motorcycles flying through the air for hours on end.

Also, whilst at the race, Chris and I went to get some fries at the fry stand. Now, I have known for some time that the Dutch loved their french fries, but I was unaware as to the level of seriousness they directed towards their fry consumption. Whilst in line, two men got into an argument about their respective positions in the fry line, and fisticuffs ensued. There was a 30 second or so brawl and about 15 minutes of Dutch jawing afterwards, all over some delicious Belgian style fries. So take heed, never get between a Dutchman and his fries.

Don't ever say I didn't warn you.

Also, a few photos were taken, and as an added treat, a couple of videos courtesy of the good folks at Youtube and my digital camera. Ain't technology great.


This is one of the first few laps in the opening segment. Craziness ensued with 500 bikes in one race. The track was quite large, but it still made for a dense, and therefore excellent race.


This is the start of the Knockout round, where they knocked out ten riders a lap after the first ten laps. You can hear them pin it all the way down the long front stretch, sounds glorious with the thumpers mixed with strokers.


This is not my video, but someone else that took a much better one of the same event.
Between this and the Last Man Standing, RedBull can do no wrong.


Your winner ladies and gentlemen, Frenchman Timotei Potisek, in all his blurry glory. He took home 15,000 Euros, which is not too shabby for an afternoon's work.


You can see the start here in the back. It was a heap more impressive in person.


This guy endoed just before this. It took him about five minutes to get his bike back up and going. He looked pretty injured, but kept on going. You have to respect that kind of determination.


The bikes were about this dense the entire 60 minute qualifier.

I see London...

but I do not see France.
I went to jolly old England a couple of weeks back to see Cindy and Mel. It seems like I'm always a couple of weeks behind on this. Good times were had by all.
I arrived at London Heathrow with no problems at all, until I tried to get through customs. Those limey bastards seemed to be under the impression that I wanted to illegally immigrate there, because they asked me a good 15 minutes worth of questions, including how I was funding my trip, where I was staying and the phone number of that person (Cindy) and whether she was a girlfriend or an acquaintance. I had the intense desire to tell that broad that we rebelled against her monarch already and I had no desire to live under its tyranny anymore. FEB's!

On that Saturday, we went to a Guy Falkes Day celebration, which was strange considering Guy Faulkes tried to blow up Parliment. Crazy Englishmen. It would be like the US having a Whiskey Rebellion Day every year. But there was a big bonfire and fire works, and I do love me some fire and explosions.

Other than that, there's not a lot of stories to be told, but general good times seeing sights in the day and drunken shenanigans at night.
And on that note, I shall leave with some photos, naturally.


Me at Buckingham Palace. I resisted the urge to shout obscenities and urinate on the Monarch's working palace.


Crazy-hatted Englishmen just before the Changing of the Guard


The Englishmen try so big, but they are a poor substitute for the average SWAC marching band


The Changing of the Guard was a surprisingly elaborate process. It lasted about 40 minutes.


Some Cannuck monument. Notice all the maple leaves


Unfortunately this is real. Fortunately it is just a steak house, and not an actual embassy, much to the average Texan's chagrin, I'm sure.


I had to post this for my buddy Juano. The FEB's couldn't give Ecuador their own building? Madness


St. Paul's Cathedral. As Moms points out, it is protestant so that Henry VIII could get him another woman.


According to Pat, this is me being disrespectful to St. Paul's cross.


This son of a bitch giant leaf attacked me as I was walking down the street. Damn Englishleaves.


The Rosetta Stone is really impressive in person. I don't have anything witty to add, it was just damned impressive.


The British Museum, from whence the Rosetta Stone sits.


Giant God-Damned door in said Museum. Melissa for scale.


That is a glorious Kiwi statute.


Needless to say, I giggled like a schoolgirl every time the proper British lady came over the loudspeaker to announce that our train was going to Cockfosters.


As it turns out, the Tower of London isn't one actual tower, but a series of towers and buildings. The Monarchy lived there at one point. Who knew.


Tower Bridge


Guy Faulkes tried to blow this place up, so naturally, they celebrate it by throwing a big ass party and a fire.
for some reason they let this Motley crew of Americans into the festivities




A few more photos can be found here http://www.pbase.com/msimon8/london

That is all for the time being.

More to come.

When in Rome...

Sorry for the lack of updates, but these have been crazy times.
I went to the Dago motherland a couple of weeks back and had a great time. That is a chaotic place, just my style. I discovered very quickly that there is no such thing as traffic laws in Rome, only traffic suggestions. You go as fast as you can and put your car where ever you can fit it on the road. It was quite the adventurous taxi ride from the airport to the hostel.
On the first day there, I get in in the evening, so the day is pretty much gone at that point. I decided to wander around Rome for the evening near where I was staying. As I was walking around, I noticed that there wasn't much activity on the streets, which seemed odd for a Saturday evening. Then I noticed that every bar I walked by was filled with people completely focused on the televisions. Everyone in the bar, including on duty police were entirely involved in watching A.S. Roma play soccer. These people love them some soccer.
Later on, I tried to go back to the Hostel to get a drink and was hopelessly lost for a couple of hours before I finally stumbled upon it. Being lost in a place where no signs are in English, it was just like my first days in Holland, good times.

The next day, I walked all over the city, which is much larger than the, so called, map implied. I finally got to the ancient part of the city and the first thing I see is the Colosseum, which is much larger and more grand than I was expecting. I was expecting something the size of an arena, but I found something more the scale of Tiger Stadium and the like. Very impressive. From there I wandered about the Forum and the Circus Maximus. It's really humbling to walk amongst man made structures that are well over 2000 years old.

From there, I walked up to the Teatro Marcello and the old Jewish Ghetto, which are in the same spot, and then to the Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II, which is the giant white structure with the winged horses. It is an Italian Government building that also housed the National museum, which was not very impressive, considering the history surrounding that country.

I kept walking about, seeing some more ancient Roman forums, and then the Trevi fountain, which I later learned was just a fountain that some rich guy stuck on the front of his house to show off in the 18th century.

At the end of the day, I went back to the Hostel to relax for a bit, and went out and got liquored up with some fellow travelers.
The rest of my stay consisted of more of the same. Seeing beautiful and historic sights, I could spend days in the Vatican museum, and then going and getting liquored up in the evening. Good times.

On that note, I took a metric shitload of photos whilst in Rome so instead of posting them all here, I will add a link to where they are at and you can paruse them for yourselves. You are all grown ass people, I think you can handle it.
said link: http://www.pbase.com/msimon8/rome

And on that note, I will leave you with a few photos that need elaboration.

When I get to Da Vinci airport, these are my first sights, the Italians aren't very good at keeping things running, as this was a theme throughout the weekend.



These were all over town, I think the water was fresh and potable, but I wasn't going to test it. I later saw a hobo washing some clothes at one, at least he was keeping clean.


The Swiss are apparently good enough to guard the Vatican, but their knives aren't allowed, outrageous.


This political party is not a fan of Osama Bin Laden, such a bold stance.

It actually translates to "Don't take the lord's name in vain" "no to fundamentalism"

hearkening back to the ancient times, SPQR was all over the public works in this town.


And finally, some good old slandering of George W. Bush, somehow I doubt there is any graffiti in the US referring to Romano Prodi in a derogatory fashion.

I'm not sure exactly what it translates to, but its some sort of Italian swear.

That is all for now, stay tuned for the exciting story of the disaster that was my trip back to Holland, and the London weekend.

More to come (soon)

Exploding glass and playing with fire. These are a few of my favorite things.

Except for the Lexington debacle, which we will not speak of, this was quite the exciting long weekend. Thursday evening, a large crew went down to the Schreveningen bowling alley, where you could setup the scorecard in one of eight different languages, including both "USA" and "English." I have no idea what the difference was, as my F.E.B. buddy insisted we play in proper English. I can only assume that English has a lot of superfluous U's. There, I bowl both the highest score and the lowest score of the evening, right in succession. The second game was full of joy and confidence as I rolled four straight strikes, then followed that game up with an expletive filled game of 7 consecutive gutter balls and a score I am more than embarrassed to mention.
From there, we were off to the Holland Casino to drown our sorrows in Poker and copious amounts of booze. After the poker tournament, we went and got shitty, where I had a 45 minute argument with an Englishman about the Second Amendment to the US Constitution. Quite a surprise on a drunken Thursday evening.

As Saturday rolled around, it was mostly a lazy day, but partially spent at the beach, as it was a glorious sunny day, but I returned in time to watch some college football. During the second quarter of the aforementioned Lexington debacle, I hear a loud pop followed by what sounded like ice hitting the ground coming from the kitchen. As the Dutch room mate and I rush into the kitchen to see what is going on, we see our other roommate, and the rest of the kitchen covered in tiny bits of safety glass. Turns out one of the sliding glass panels on a cabinet exploded some how. Cleaning that up eventually reached rigmarole status, but it was done.

Sunday, I decided to walk up to the beach and eat lunch to drown my sorrows and enjoy another, and perhaps the final sunny day of the year. While walking down the boulevard, I came across a big crowd and a street juggler. He did his little act in English, as he was a dirty Belgian, which was nice. At one point, he asked if everyone was ready for some egg trick, and there was dead silence for probably ten seconds. As it was painful to see him dying like that, I let out a bit of a cheer, which he appreciated, but would later come back to haunt me. Towards the end of the show, he was going to juggle fire and he singled me out to help him. Which was lame at first, until I realized that I got to throw flaming sticks at someone. So I lit them and threw them at the Belgian who commenced juggling them. All in all, it was a good day.

Normally I would finish with a series of photos, but I haven't taken many of late, but I assure you there will be plenty when I get back from Rome.

More to come,

Matt

Sweet Sweet Nurburgring Action

I have dreamed about going to the Nurburgring ever since I first learned such a glorious place existed. Seeing as I am now about three hours drive from there, I had to seize the opportunity. And I assure you, It will not be my last.
The day started out poorly as the damn bus decided to disregard its schedule, and not to run that early. So after about 20 mins I gave up on the bus and walked to the tram. Once I finally arrived, an hour late to meet my German/Dutch buddy Chris we were off to Amsterdam to rent the car, from a rental agency that will remain nameless, as I'm sure I violated the terms of the rental agreement. I forgot to bring my passport with me (the lesson here, as always, I'm an idiot) but that ended up not being a problem.
So we were off to the land of zee Germans.

Barreling down the autobahn was great. I got up to 200kph several times for a good bit of time. I think that was just about the top speed of the car. Its somewhat liberating to drive that fast on a public road without worries of doing jail time. Say what you want about their genocidal tendencies, zee Germans make a mighty fine highway. At one point I was cruising at around 180kph and got passed by an Audi like I was standing still.

We finally made it to what I would later dubb as the happiest place on earth, the hell with Disney land. The track is buried in the mountains. You can't even see it from the surrounding area like you can with other tracks. You can only see parts of it when there is a break in the tree line. Which there are a lot scattered around the track with people standing around watching.

After much searching, we finally found the entrance to the track and bought some laps. I pull forward towards the track and see this glorious sight.


I proceed through the gate and the cones and stomp on the throttle, which isn't very drastic in the rental 318 wagon. As we entered the first section of corners I am giddy as a school girl and cackling with delight. Although I look somewhat intense as I reach for a shift in this photo,

You could not wipe the big dumb grin off of my face if you tried. The track was everything I had imagined and then some. Long flat sweepers, a few tight bits and so much elevation change that my ears kept popping. It is a deceptively fast track. The first lap I found myself braking for before every corner, because they are all blind. But after a couple of laps you begin to realize that you can take a lot of the corners almost flat, in the care we had at least.
I was still driving very conservatively, as I didn't much want to wad up a rental car. Also, the track is so large, it is tough just remembering all of the 172 corners.

At the end of the day, as we returned the car with worn out tires and brakes, Chris and I vowed that we would come back as much as money and time would allow. Lets just hope the good people at the rental agency don't black list me.

And I leave you with photos of that glorious day.


The carousel was my favorite corner, the banking allows you to almost hold it flat.


Chris and the car before we got to the track. I wanted a photo of the car in good condition, in case it got wadded up.


We stood and watched at this corner for a while watching cars scream by. The variety of cars was amazing. There was everything from fully prepped race cars taking the track wide open, to mini vans cruising around. But mostly it was quick street cars like this great e30 M3 and this Porsche GT3 RS



Also, while we were watching, some guy took his e36 for a little spin. He apexed the corner too early and clipped the curb, spinning and coming about as close as you can to hitting the guardrail as possible, without hitting it. I didn't have any noticeable damage, but I'm sure he needed a new set of underwear. This is the aftermath of that incident.


This car was in a little parking lot near the track. Chris tells me that Germany doesn't allow vanity plates, so It appears to be legit. Lets just hope that 2008 doesn't actually suck.


Somebody blew a motor, so the oil had to be cleaned up, so we had to wait around at the start/finish line. You can see the extremely long straight in the background. You have to stop in the middle of it to exit or go through the gates again, but that behind Chris is only about 2/3rds of it.

A few of the many nice cars floating around that place






the yet to be released new M3




And a few more of the sweet on track action






My favorite shot of the day. Good work Chris.

And finally, as I was walking back home from the tram, I stumble upon this little character crossing the street. He froze when he saw me and let me walk right up on him to take the photo. Poor little hedgehog was terrified. Probably thought the fat man was going to eat him.


More to come