International Sports Day

Yesterday was International Sports Day. Seven Dutch universities with international programs akin to ours, descended upon Delft for a day of activities and a night of celebrations. There were eight sports: soccer, volleyball, basketball, running, darts, chess, table tennis, and badminton. There was extra pressure on us this year since not only were we the hosts, but it is the 50th anniversary of the institute (yeah, not all the athletes are number 50).

I wasn't supposed to participate. From the moment that I arrived at the TU-Delft sportscenter everyone began to ask me why I wasn't participating. I had to be very diplomatic with the answer. I would tell people that I had intended to play on the woman's soccer team, but since our match had been taken off the schedule (well, it actually hadn't been put on the schedule, there is no Title IX here) and the men's team had already been chosen, I didn't play. And the running team had already been set. The truth is that I didn't make the cut (I think). I'm actually glad that I didn't play because I didn't like the format. The matches were only 10 minutes each.

So I brought some gym clothes with anyway. And books. The plan was to either work or play. During the lunch break was the running. We went to watch. As the runners were lining up for the 1200m, I asked why there wasn't a woman running for IHE. The coach said that our runner had been injured. So I offered to run. After a three minute warm up I did. I placed 2nd. Out of three. Apparently I had a nice sprint at the end. I don't remember my time, but I don't think it was at all impressive. I've discovered that I am not a sprinter. It took about two hours for me to breathe normally after the race. And I got a t-shirt.

But I feel that my participation was crucial (but not critical). IHE placed first in running. It turns out that we placed first in half the events. TU-Delft place first in the other half. But at the end of the day it was all about the seconds. We won the cup! But we didn't know that until the party. There is always a party. This one was a bit different because we actually got to socialize with the other students. But everyone was tired and had to head back to other parts of Holland. The party at IHE wound down about midnight. So we had another party in Mina. But I didn't stay for too long because I was tired and sore (not from the running, but from last weeks capoiera class).

At least one team I support has something to cheer about this week.

As They Say in Chicago...

I went to sleep for six hours and I woke up I found that Duke went down in the first round. There goes my bracket. So...there's always next year.

March Madness

It's tournament time. I missed the entire Duke basketball season. This morning, by dumb luck, I was reminded and was able to complete my bracket for the SOM pool just in time (the seven, or is it now six, hour time delay helped quite a bit). It's strange that collage basketball just fell off my radar for an entire season, probably because I don't have a TV and there aren't any games on here anyway. Even though I know my Blue Devils aren't at their best this season, I still believe that an all ACC final four will happen with Duke beating UNC in the championship game. A girl can dream, right?

Perfect Day

Today was a perfect day. Well, it actually started yesterday and it wasn't exactly perfect, but really good. But I still think it's worth writing about even though I still have to analyze my trip to Madrid, plus post the photos of Spain and Venice. Anyway, yesterday was Maria's (Spain) birthday so we had some cake and coffee at here and Elena's place last night. Well, we didn't actually have cake, it was Chocolate Bread Pudding, and we didn't actually have coffee, we had some wine instead. While tasting the delicious dessert, someone asked if it was a traditional Spanish birthday food. "No," I responded (because I had baked it), "it's traditional Martha Stewart."

There were blank stares. "Who is Martha Stewart?" I didn't know how to respond at first. Part of me was happy that not all the useless pop culture and brouhaha in America has been exported. At the same time, another part of me was trying to figure out how to explain Martha Stewart (do you start with the homemaker part or the insider trading?). And the rest of me was wondering if people liked the bread pudding.

My first class today was at 10:45AM. I was able to sleep in. My leisurely ride to IHE was sunny and wind-free, uninterrupted by the usual morning traffic. Classes in the afternoon let out half an hour early, so I was able to stop at home before my capoeira class this evening. That was fun. I went with Julia (Brazil) to the class to sample it because we had been invited my the instructor (a Brazilian, one of the samba drummers that came to our European-American night). My arms and legs are aching, I didn't really know what I was doing, just sort of flailing my appendages, but I had such a good time. So that was my great day, but now it's being interrupted by an impending paper...

European-American Night

The pictures are finally posted, now for the commentary. Every few months, IHE has a cultural night. Since there are less than a dozen Europeans, Europe has been combined with the Americas to form one night of dancing, eating, and drinking with some powerpoint presentations thrown in for good measure. We chose to use Carnival as a theme to tie the two continents together, since it's celebrated in one form or another in all of the participants home countries (even mine), and we were really in the mood since many of us were to be celebrating it the week before. But the theme was not liked by some religious leaders, saying it was sacrilege to celebrate Carnival during Lent, so during the presentations I had to add the disclaimer that this would be a representation of Carnival, not an actual Carnival celebration. I was the one announcing this, because Alejandro and I were the MC's for the evening.

A big part of the night was food. Since it was decided that it would be a bit offensive to explain the Mardi Gras "culture" of throwing beads to girls who responded to the call of, "Show us your tits!", I baked some chocolate chip cookies. 600 of them. I didn't actually bake them all, but managed a team who chopped the six pounds of chocolate into bite size pieces, formed balls of cookie dough that somehow managed to make it into people's mouths, and the all important quality control, which involved the disappearance of at least one cookie from every batch. The rest of the menu included Panamanian chicken and rice, fried plantains (Colombia), Spanish tortas, and apple strudel (Austria).

The presentations were excellent. The costumes and music and dancing were divine. I was really surprised by how many of my friends know traditional dances and reminisced about square dancing in 4th grade gym class when we still thought it was gross to hold the hands of the boys. To get in the Carnival spirit I figured a short skirt would be appropriate, but once the wig and makeup were applied, I ended up impersonating a New Orleans prostitute. It was a bit strange being on stage, since my only previous experience in the theatre had been being the man behind the curtain.

At first I was a bit frustrated by the lack of communication between the technicians and the stage, but after a shot of tequila and a cup of Colombian coffee, the show seemed to go quite well. Alejandro and I had to improvise a bit. Nobody laughed at my jokes, except the one American who was there, and Bin because he was laughing at everything. I don't think that they were even funny, actually one was, but I figured that someone would laugh out of pity at the rest. Fortunately, the painful part was over quite quickly and we sambaed our way to the cafeteria for drinking and dancing in the typical IHE fashion. If you are not sure what that means, look at the photos again, and review some in the previous albums.

Blah

I really have a lot to write about, but that's not going to happen today. I am ill. I have a cough that is reminiscent of my bronchitis days at Duke and all I want to do is lie in bed. I am very grateful to have such good friends here who feed me and water me and provide me with an international pharmacy of vitamins, cough drops, and decongestants. In class today we discussed potable water disinfection. Through some simple calculations we discovered that one person (or animal) using the River Muse as a toilet could contaminate the entire watershed (which is all of the Netherlands, Belgium, and a good portion of Germany). That made me feel a bit more sick when I thought about all the times that I have I drank from what looked like a pure stream (Mc, please keep this in mind when we go on our next trip).

So maybe tomorrow I will write about European American night and my holiday in Madrid last weekend. I was able to do some laundry today, which was very necessary after a bird shit on my jacket in Madrid. Apparently it is lucky (says the Colombians, Ecuadorians, Serbians, and Spaniards), but I just felt like I spent three days walking around with bird shit on my jacket.

Italy (Part III, Verona)

Sunday started as a typical Sunday. We rolled out of our beds with aching heads, trying to remember all the highlights of the night before and seeing who caught what on camera. The quick risers (as well as quick learners) were rewarded with hot showers. Our morning walk around town was to Basilica di Sant'Antonio. As Team 705 knew all too well, St Antony is the patron saint of lost things. While living on Belmont we cursed him quite frequently because there was always someone who couldn't find their keys. In Padova, the pilgrims were a bit more serious, and the church was quite lovely. After a snack (of course, pizza and coffee) we met Andrea, a friend of Giorgia's that we had seen the two previous nights. He joined us on a road trip to Verona.

When we arrived in Verona, the first thing we did was have a snack (panini with prosciutto and mozzarella) at a cafe in Piazza Brá, while gazing at the Roman amphitheatre across from us. It is such a lovely structure. It is currently undergoing a bit of renovations, but it is the opera house for the city of Verona. I would have loved to see a show there. Instead, we got our quad workout for the day, climbing up and down the stairs to check out the views.

Our next stop was Casa di Giulietta, but on the way over we had to get some gelato. Casa di Giulietta is marketed as the infamous house of Miss Juliet Capulet, of Romeo & Juliet fame. I am a bit sceptical about this residence, considering Shakespeare wrote fiction. Regardless, it was a nice house with a lovely balcony. In the courtyard is a statue of Juliet where superstition declares one should rub her left breast in order to find a new love (though I would assume that her heart would be under her right breast).

To relax before heading back to Padova, we stopped for a drink and a snack as night was falling on the city. I had the best bruschetta that I have ever eaten. Rather than being topped with tomatoes, this had only lard and pepper. No, that is not a typo, I ate the creamy fat from the underbelly of a pig. It was excellent. It had so much flavor, which was expertly enhanced by the lightest dusting of fresh cracked pepper. Washed down with an aperitif of Campari and orange juice. Back to Padova for dinner.

When we arrived back at Giorgia's flat we found a note from her mom saying that there was beer in the fridge and dinner in the oven. It was so sweet. Giorgia's father arrived for dinner as did some of Giorgia's local friends, so the house was full as we had our final night in Italy, feasting of course. After dinner was coffee and sweets and packing. Packing? None of us were looking forward to the 5AM wake up call the next day.

The alarm rings. Giorgia walks in to wake us up. So soon? We doze all the way to the airport, get coffee to wake up when we arrive. We conspire to take Filippo home with us. Then we sit and wait. And wait. We count the minutes until we can get on the plane and nap. Only Imraan seems excited with his sports section of the paper, and Elena, who has a remarkable sense of humour for someone who has spent the past month being sick.

Italy (Part II, Venice)

We all slept well on Friday night and slept in on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, we battled with cold showers, which wasn't unexpected when you have eight people in one flat trying to shower two at a time (separate showers, of course). But by 11AM Giorgia, Rosy, Elena, and I had left to go to the salon. While the other three girls got their hair blown out, I decided it was time for a chic Italian haircut. I felt that Rosy and I could almost pass for Italian at our post salon, midday coffee and juice at the outdoor cafe.

After a quick walk around the neighborhood we gathered the rest of the team from Giorgia's and started the half hour walk to the train station. Once we got into the station it turned into a sprint to the train, but of course, as we arrived at the track it had been delayed for a few minutes, so we had not missed out train to Venice. Once we finally got settled, the trip only took about 30 minutes. Suddenly we were there.

The layout of Venice is made to be appreciated from the second you step out of the station. I have never arrived by car or by boat, and once by bus, but as you exit the train terminal you are struck with the blinding beauty of the city. From the top of the stairs your eyes find the Ponte degli Scalzi straddling the Grand Canal, then you catch a gondola gliding by and follow it to a Neo-Classical church or a Byzantine palace. There are people everywhere, especially during Carnival there were hundreds of people painting faces outside the station. Apparently that is in this year. People were still in masks and costumes, but lots of people were hidden behind eyeliner and glitter.

The main celebrations take place in Piazza San Marco, which leads me to another comment about the layout of the city. Venice is made up of 177 islands and 150 canals. There are over 400 bridges, but only three that cross the Grand Canal. Also, Piazza San Marco is on the opposite side of the city from the train station. There are two ways to get there, by vaporetti (water taxi) which takes about 25 minutes and provides beautiful views of the facades along the Grand Canal, or by foot, which takes about 30 minutes on a good day. It took us about two hours with the crowds, the snacks, the turns down small alleys, and the shopping. Of course, you can always swim, but it's not recommended since the Grand Canal also doubles as an open sewer.

Our walk to the piazza was an adventure. We saw people in classical costumes as well as some more modern ones (who are those masked beauties with the 18th century debutantes?) . It was like Halloween, but with less sweets and better food. The piazza was packed. A stage was set up with musicians and dancers and the campanile (bell tower) was lit to look like Venetian glass. After our quick tour or the piazza we took an early dinner, since we had been on our feet for the past few hours. In Venice food is very expensive. Well, everything there is expensive, but we managed to find a small tratoria where we ate and drank through three courses for less than €25 each. The food, once again was divine. We had some grilled squid in it's own ink, fresh pasta with prawns, lasagna, and of course, the divine desserts of chocolate mouse, profiteroles, and Guillermo. Sorry, I meant Casanova. Once he was in costume, all the girls found him irresistible.

After dinner it was back to the piazza where we met with some of Giorgia's friends and drank and danced the night away. Though finding a drink was easy, finding a toilet was a bit of a problem. Therefore when one person needed to use one, it took about 30 minutes. Fortunately we live in the age of cell phones and were all able to meet up at the end of the night to take the long hike back to the train station. This time it only took an hour and a half to cross the city. As we were heading back we followed an informal parade, a few pied pipers with a stereo and speakers on a dolly, leading revellers dancing down the streets. Our best luck of the night was when two of Giorgia's friends offered to drive us back to her house from the train station in Padua. Our legs were like jelly at that point. It was a long, tiring, wonderful day.

Italy (Part I, Padova)

Another weekend holiday with my IHE friends (Guillermo (Colombia), Imraan (South Africa) Judith (USA), Maria (Spain), Alejandro (Colombia), Rosy (Serbia), and in front Giorgia (Italy) and Elena (Spain)). Last weekend was Venice for Carnival. We weren't in Venice the whole time, not even 12 hours, but that was the premise of the trip. Giorgia hosted us in Padova (or Padua as they call it in the States). Of course it started as an adventure.

Last Friday morning we woke up at 3AM to meet at 3:30AM to take the 4:11AM train to Schiphol that would arrive at 4:55AM with a solid two hours to hang out at the airport until our 7:15AM flight. Well, the trouble started on the train. It did not go to Schiphol, but only to Leiden, where we boarded a bus to the airport. We understood the bus would be a bit slower, but had plenty of time. After 20 minutes on the bus, as the airport office park was coming into view, the bus stops. We barely noticed the bus slowing down, but suddenly the lights dimmed and we were stopped on the side of the highway. After a few minutes Giorgia went to ask the bus driver what had happened. Then, all the way at the back of the bus we hear the sweet sound of Italian curing coming from the front. We had run out of gas. Apparently the bus driver has nothing to do with the maintenance of the bus. OK, I can understand that. But I figured that he would notice when the fuel gage was low. After about 25 minutes on the side of the highway, contemplating walking or calling a taxi, another bus shows up and we all squeeze in. We arrive at the airport by 5:45AM and check-in and security are a breeze. We even have time for some coffee before the flight.

Once we arrived in Treviso we took a bus to Padova where Giorgia's mother and stepfather met us and took us home for some fabulous Italian coffee (elevenes) and we met Filippo (Giorgia's dog) and Matilde (her cat). We took Filippo out for a walk around town where we all enjoyed seeing the sun (there is a permanent cloud cover over Holland) as well as a few Italian figos on the way to the university. It was graduation season so we ended up sneaking into a ceremonial room that was empty and unlocked. We even brought Filippo in with us as we stared at the gilded walls and tapestries, and taking photos right next to the sign that said no cameras allowed. We snuck out with just as much ease. We returned home for lunch, which was to be the start of our three day eating binge. I had not traveled with Guillermo before and had no idea about his gastronomic capabilities. He is always hungry. And, of course, when one person would stop for a snack, everyone would end up eating. Just a bite of your sandwich, a cup of coffee, a taste or gelato, well, I think I'll get my own cone. The food was fantastic. As many people know, I'm a bit of a picky eater, but I ate almost everything put in front of me in Italy. But more on that later.

After lunch and a brief nap was another walk around town, towards the city museum, taking our time, of course. We had tickets to see the Cappella degli Scrovegni, a masterpiece by Giotto. Since we got there a few minutes early we were sprinted up the stairs to see one of his earlier a pieces, being told in Italian not to run. Once we arrived at the chapel there was another sprint when Giorgia realized that she left the tickets in her purse which she had just checked. But we made it into the sealed room for our 15 minutes of viewing the chapel, where of course we got yelled at by a guide for giggling in a sacred place. We weren't being disrespectful, it's just that our interpretations of the frescoes seemed to differ with the official tale.

That evening we met up with Giorgia's friends at a bar. Apparently the custom there is to stand of the sidewalk outside the bar with your drink. And usually your drink is a "Spritz", an aperitif made of Aperol and prosecco (I think). It's very tasty. It was seasonable warm for the middle of winter, but still a bit chilly and after three hours and two bars it was time to drive out of the city for some pizza. Yum. It was great to meet Giorgia's friends and see how she lived. But we were absolutely exhausted after our first day and excited for Saturday in Venice...

Valoracion (Parte I)

Dejé Chicago aproximadamente hace cuatro meses y me ha preguntado escribir un analisis detallado de mi vida aquí comparó a que en Chicago. En español. Falto mi familia, mis amigos, mi condominio, y el pato de Peking de BBQ King en Chinatown. En Delft, he conocido mas familia, he hecho amigos nuevos, y tengo un dormitorio simpatico. Pero no he encontrado nada parecido pato de Peking.

Critica por favor.