Space is the Plaats

My second weekend in, or near, Utrecht has drawn to a close and I am delighted to announce that I am still alive! That said, there is some confusion as to whether it’s my pulse I’m hearing or the seemingly endless high-pitched thud of a metronome endeavouring to take over as much of my life as it possibly can. To those other music nerd types out there: my weekly routine consists of a major and minor scale in thirds, fourths, fifths, sixths and sevenths, five studies and a repertoire list that sees me set for the whole year! Quite a mountain to climb, and one which is proving to take a great deal of determination and focus.

Enjoyment isn’t banished outright, though, and I guess I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t awaiting the hopeful end result with baited breath! Kicks can be found in less obvious places: I take great pride in my first trip to LIDL, which has enabled culinary sanctuary in the form of daily cheese sandwiches and rather curious rice/cheap sweet & sour sauce dish that is slowly being augmented with different ingredients each day. These little ‘mundanities’ probably don’t make for highly lucrative reading (sorry guys, I should be more like Perez Hilton) but I have genuinely found myself feeling a real sense of achievement for every step I take towards formulating some kind of normality amongst the veritable sea of mild difference that this fortnight has highlighted.

It is the mildness of cultural differences that make living the Netherlands and interesting experience. The shops are similar, the chart music is (regrettably) identical, and people still sit on trains in stony faced silence. However, just as I begin to glide into the delightful mental state of daydream, a ‘Dutchism’ comes along an hits me in the face. In the case of cyclists, I mean this literally (I am surprised that ‘Pedestrianism’ is not an extreme sport) as I begin to understand how the impossibly addictive pixelated blur, Frogger, must have felt trying to get to work. There are also a lot of V signs in conversation, employed simply – and entirely reasonably - to represent the quantity of two. Still, not all bad as it has allowed me to go into several bars and, by all English accounts, swear at barmen in order to attain enough liquid to satisfy a pint-drinker such as myself.

Another lesson today was followed by the purchasing 100g of 50cent Chocolate. It was terrible , so I felt obliged to consume it as swiftly as physically possible in order to prevent it from being unduly shared, and the misery spread, to expectant confectionary fans over the table. Other Dutch culinary experiences thus far have included Bitteballs and Krokets – both deep fried ‘meat’ snacks with a crispy outside. The overall effect isn’t unbearable, but the grey mushiness of the meat filling is a little disconcerting (none of the Dutch people I have asked have a clue what is in them either) and have led me to conclude that they probably using the cuttings that didn’t qualify for the gelatine put in Haribo.

And yes, all this bike riding has made my thighs a true wonder of nature, obviously. So you can all stop thinking about it.

Tales from the Oudegracht

I have no doubt that you have all been dying to know what I’ve been up to. Here is an overview:

It has been a little over a week since arriving here, anxious, clueless and friendless. For somebody as impatient as me, it is still a little frustrating that I still find myself plagued by the first two qualities in this list (the continued wait for a timetable probably isn’t helping) but I am truly glad to say that the latter, friendlessness, is set to be a problem that should soon evaporate.

 

On Wednesday evening, a whole group of us equally-floundering Erasmus types met up and had dinner in the SSH, effectively a halls-of-residence-but-shared-and-not-quite-type-thing where many international students are staying for a semester. Having spent much of my time between practises wandering around Utrecht city centre on my own or reading my book on a secluded bench, it was genuinely lovely to feel part of a group and somewhat more like an actual student again. Wine and jokes flowed in equal measure (British sarcasm is more internationally compatible than I thought) and we all bonded over that paradigm of student culinary adventure: pasta. The group, many of whom I met at the HKU intro day (see the previous post!) are a really relaxed and fun mix of people, whose different cultures, personalities, jokes and mannerisms mean that it is very difficult to run out of conversation!

Yesterday was the ESN (Erasmus Student Network) Introduction, which also seemed like a good way of getting to know some more people. A lot of walking - including a ‘handy’ city-tour to the areas that I had walked around on my own for hours. A game of pool, some beer and boat-trip later and ‘group 1’, to which I belonged  (I believe it more indicative of a common desperation to find people than a genuine accolade), wound up at the house of our guides Edwin and Willem for a barbeque and some “beersch”. Although the day itself was rather disorganised, the boat trip though Utrecht’s historical canals and wharves was as beautiful as riding halfway home sitting side-saddle on the pannier of my bike (well piloted by Timi, from Finland) was hilarious.

I cycled in today to try and get some more practise done. It is apparent that us saxophonists are a dreadfully ungodly lot, as it transpired than most of second floor was fully with the sound of saxophones diligently practising scales and studies. This led to the final social surprise of this week – cycling out to a reservoir to eat crisps and relax in the ridiculously warm weather with a few fellow Saxophone nerds. It was once again reassuring to meet people with similar interests and I was able to ask lots of questions about working with Johan, and how the course works here in general. As helpful and relaxing as this lakeside sun-burning session was, I also feel a little intimidated – the saxophonists here appear to have a far greater focus on classical saxophone that I do, and I hope that I will be able to keep up with expectations of the course whilst still managing to become the musician that I want to be at the end of it.

Still, enough about worthwhile intentions and other such financially-unrewarding rubbish! Tomorrow is the first Saxophone Orchestra rehearsal and I hope to find out my timetable. It really does feel now like things are about to get going properly. Whether I will be able to fulfil the expectations of an environment like this whilst still trying to adjust to my new surroundings remains to be seen, and it certainly a source of apprehension. However, this whole year is a challenge that I have bestowed upon myself and, in the undying vernacular of Hitchin Boys’ School, I will have to “man up" and get on with it - preferably without complaining through a self-indulgent public medium. Like a blog.


Oh.

Ah... Um..?

THE SEQUEL: Insert film tagline here, followed by a name of someone relatively famous who could play me (perhaps Robert de Niro, Cate Blanchett or Frankie Muniz.)

Two days appear to have passed and things are looking somewhat more chaotic than before. Still, a bagful of questions and guesses about actually getting on with stuff is, so far, proving to be far preferable to the worry and suspense that was distracting me so much in the metaphorical ‘doldrums’ over the weekend.

 Yesterday was an official International Student Orientation day; this was not so much a case of helping people to find their way around their own buildings of study, locate north, or face Mecca, but actually a bit of an excuse to photocopy a lot of passports and wander around the town in the sun trying awkwardly to get to know people. It turned out to be quite good fun. Following a presentation from quirkily-named ‘Buddy Go Dutch’ and ESN (essentially a sort of ‘buy some friends’ organisation, which suits me down to the ground) we had a tour of the city and got to know each other by moaning about how painful it is climbing the Dom tower. Several free beers, although continentally small, helped to lubricate the most international conversation I have ever been a part of. Within the group, we had representatives from Australia, Japan, France, Spain, Portugal, Sweden and Slovakia. Think of it as a meet-and-greet in a world where the Eurovision song contest got WAY out of hand.

Today was my first lesson at the Conservatorium. My teacher, who bears the profoundly Dutch name Johan van der Linden, seems a nice enough man who has clearly devoted his entire life to studying, writing about, performing, composing for and teaching the Saxophone. This reassures me that I am in a safe pair of hands, and that any musically-induced suffering is probably with a view to ensuring that I am kept on an upward trajectory. Most of the lesson was spent uncovering various fundamental flaws in my playing, usually following this pattern:

“Can you do technique X/play note Y/scale Z for me please?”

The request is then fulfilled, resulting in a rather underwhelmed expression.

“Hmm. Okay. Well, now try this aswell.”

‘This’ then fails to happen.

“I think you should work on just doing these three things for the week.”

It turns out that ‘these three things’ include a piece I already thought I could play, a C major scale (once again, I thought I had that down) and a whole load of long notes. I guess it’s a challenge that I knew was probably coming my way and it certainly gives me something to do, or would if the Conservatorium has actually updated the computer system so exchange students can book rooms.

In general, the feeling is more positive. Although still a little sore from a mixture of Saxophone lessons and bike rides (which I am debating whether to re-christen BDS, or Bottom Destruction Scheme), it certainly feels better to have things to be trying to get on with and problems to solve. Tonight will involve me re-choosing most of my other modules (I was rather optimistic about being able to have Piano and Clarinet lessons on top of Sax practise hours) before heading in tomorrow to try and get hold of some kind of timetable, practise booking and, if I feel like paying for them, a few more friends. (Thanks, ESN!)

Welcome! - 2/9/2012

Hello, I’m Jamie. I’ve been pondering for a while whether I should indulge myself in the ritual self-reflection that is often induced by the undertaking of a blog. I had an idea in my head that, in order that people would be able to see what I’m up to (yes, I am THAT presumptuous), I could upload a ‘photo of the day’ whilst I am here in the Netherlands.  However, based on my past history of photo uploading – one lucky holiday every two years – I think that the whole world (my estimated readership) will be better served by a more literary medium. 

The motivation also runs a little deeper; having been here a little over 24 hours, I can see this blog being a very effective way of helping me to process all the of the different events, new people and, perhaps very occasionally, feelings that are being piled in my general direction at an alarmingly fast rate. I hope that by ‘maintaining’ this dusty little corner of the internet, I’ll be able to spend less of the individual days thinking too much and just getting on with (and enjoying!?)  whatever it is than I need to do.

The first highly important and CRUCIAL TO EVERYTHING problem with starting something like this is the title. Do I go for a clever pun, something pseudo-intellectual (‘I have nothing to declare except my safe passage through customs’ sprung to mind, before I promptly hated myself for it) something song themed, or none of the above?? I have actually written this post before I have a title, so whatever is in the big writing above is what I have gone for. Consume at your own delight. Here is some actual content:
 

I moved in to a house in Bilthoven a couple of days ago. My parents left this morning, having helped no end in trying to smooth out this peculiar transition, most notably by helping me procure a second hand bike so that I can cycle the 30 minutes in to Utrecht Conservatorium each day (a journey that I have christened a ‘Thigh Development Scheme’, or TDS). The landlady/surrogate mother figure is Joke, an incredibly helpful if slightly barmy 59 year-old, and I also live with a 22 year-old sound man and a 30 something something-man. I haven’t met him yet. Can you tell?

 I have an Erasmus introduction day tomorrow in the administration centre of the Utrecht School or the Arts which, so it seems, is two escalators above a Kruidvat (Dutch Wilkos)! With any luck then, tomorrow will not only be the first time I get a tour of the Conservatorium (being told how to book some rooms would be nice) but will also enable me to meet similarly nervy and keen-to-seem-nice people. Thanks to the unusual location I can probably pick up a shaving adaptor on the way, lest the Dutch be subjected to my unavoidably ginger chin-fuzz.

I hope this isn’t too wordy, vague, sarcy, rambling, concise, intellectual, dumbed-down or self-indulgent for any of my large and diverse demographic of readers. Let me know if you think I need to change my style of writing/content of my character and I will do my best! I hope to write in a few days with details of some new friends(…?) and a post-mortem of my first Dutch sax lesson!

TTFN.