Couch-Surfing

As a kid, I always had a distant dream of being a surfer. I imagined relaxing on a beach all day with my friends, catching waves, and finishing the evening next to beautiful beach babe. I am (arguably) not a kid any more, rarely relax on the beach for an entire day, am yet to learn how to surf and never end up getting a beach babe. Luckily for me I learned another style of surfing, Couch Surfing.

Couch surfing requires no physical coordination and there is no tanning required. It is the act of sleeping on someone’s couch for a night, then moving to another the next night. Much like surfing a wave then paddling out again to find another.

I heard about couch surfing through a friend of mine who studied abroad in Melbourne, Australia a year ago. He told me what it was but I found it hard to believe that people actually participated in this crazy sport. Much to my surprise, people do participate; a lot of people.

Recently three friends and I took a four day trip to Belgium. Our trip to Belgium was one of the most unplanned trips I have ever been on. The planning was done in the kitchen on the 1^st floor of Beneluxlaan while all four of us were extremely “under the weather”.

With little planning and high hopes we hopped on a bus to Antwerp, Belgium. We arrived around 5:30 in the evening. Stepping off the bus was like waking up after long night of partying with some good friends. We didn’t really know why we were there, how we planned it and what we were going to do now that we were in Antwerp. But, like true international college students we trekked on.

After sightseeing for a few hours and doing normal tourist stuff (such as; climbing on statues, pointing at random buildings, and taking the infamous everyone-jump-into-the-air-at-the-same-time photo) it was time to find a place to sleep. We had a few failed attempts at finding a hostel and just as we were about to lose hope, our friend Recep shouted “I have 5 missed calls”.

Standing outside a vacant hostel, Recep informed us that he had send out 14 messages to 14 different hosts in Antwerp asking if we could crash on their couch for the night. I had completely forgotten that he had spoken about “couch surfing” the previous night. The five missed calls were from a host that responded to his request via couchsurfing.org. Couchsurfing.org is a networking tool used by travelers to find a cheap place to sleep for the night. A user simply has to create a profile with some basic information then start asking to crash on a couch.

Our friend quickly called the host back and after a short conversation we had a place to sleep for the night. We met our hosts, Vincent and Elise, at the Center station in Antwerp. Vincent is a tall, blond, 19 year old, male, Flemish student studying medicine at the local university. Elise is about 5’7, dark hair, nice figure and from the west of Belgium.

Soon after meeting Vincent and Elise we found out that they too had recently signed up on couchsurfing.org and this was their first time hosting travelers. Hearing this was a relief for all of us. We had no idea what to expect but knowing we would be staying with two cool college kids was comforting. Happy to hear we had a place to stay, we hopped on a tram and headed south.

Our groups clicked very quickly. Possibly due to the fact that this was our first time or possibly because the first thing we spoke about was stopping at a liquor store and finding a good club (I guess we’ll never know). Regardless, everyone was very excited for the journey ahead.

I had an eerie feeling walking into the student’s house. The thought of Hollywood horror movies kept running through my mind. I thought… “Is this safe”, “what if they are some kind of crazy serial killers” and “this would make a great horror movie”… I snapped back to reality once the lights flickered on.

It was a standard college house; Dishes in the sink, bottles on the window sill, books laying everywhere and two Belgium students standing there with welcoming eyes asking if we would like anything to eat or drink. At this point I knew it was going to be great.

The sheer generosity of our hosts was baffling. Vincent and Elise had absolutely no idea who we were or why we were in Antwerp but they let us into their home without hesitation. They were even kind enough to let us crash at their place for two nights.

Not only did they give us a place to sleep, but they gave us a guided tour of Antwerp by day and night. We spent the next two days sightseeing and partying until the early morning. When it came time to leave Antwerp and head to Brussels, everyone had the same thought runny through their minds (“Shit, shit, shit… Where are we going to sleep?”). Then, Elise informed us that she was staying in Brussels with her parents and they would love to host us for the night. Score! We had a place to crash in Brussels.

Elise’s parents live just outside of Brussels in a town called Vilvoorde. We got to the train station and there our chariot awaited. Just outside was a red Opel minivan with a mother like figure sitting in the front seat. I felt like we were being picked up from little league practice; we were all tired, smelly, and hungry.

Again, I thought “This can’t be happening. No family on earth would host four strange travelers who randomly sent messages via couchsurfing.org” but again I was wrong. We arrived in front of a beautiful A-frame house with a small hedge and front yard.

Earlier in the trip, Elise informed me that her dad was a beer lover. Being a beer lover myself, I was more than excited walking into her home. The home was very modern and in the middle of their tiled living room floor sat two beautiful, luxurious, leather sofas. This would be our home for the night.

Within 10 minutes of entering the home, we had hors d'oeuvres and delicious Belgium beers being served to us. Elise’s father was a fountain of knowledge when it came to beer. He knew exactly what to serve, when to serve it, and how to pour it.

The night continued with dish after dish of gourmet food and, of course, delicious Belgium beer. Our night ended with a full stomach and pallet filled with sweet, hoppy, malted liquid. Who could imagine four travelers from different parts of the world coming together and enjoying the experience of a lifetime? All thanks to the generosity of a few people who reached out and opened their home to a group of curious travelers.

We left with smiles on our faces and a new found appreciation towards strangers. This is an experience that will never be forgotten and I think I speak for the whole group when I say, I feel a little safer in the world we live in.

A Night on the Town

A typical night out in Utrecht has the same fundamental goals of a night out back in Michigan. Everyone involved is looking to have a good time with good people and to enjoy life. The only difference is the path one takes to get there.

The night usually starts around 7:30pm with a short walk to the local store to pick up supplies. Before I came to Utrecht, I under appreciated how convenient a “convenience” store really is. Back home, we can go to the store anytime before 1:45am to pick up supplies but here it’s another story. The reason we have to make our short jaunt at 7:30pm is because all stores (with the exception of restaurants and bars) close at 8:00pm or earlier.

Once we have our beverage of choice, we come back to the apartment building and go our separate ways for a few hours. I usually head to my room and respond to a few emails or Skype with someone. Others will sleep for a few hours, work on assignments or roam the halls of Beneluxlaan.

Around 9:30 or 10:00pm we usually head up to the 6^th floor of our building to pre-party and chat with friends. The 6^th floor of Beneluxlann is predominately Spanish with a few exceptions. The few exceptions have adopted some of the Spanish culture; mainly the community atmosphere and dinner time.

A typical dinner on the 6^th floor starts around 9:30 or 10:00pm (which could be the reason why we congregate there). I usually sit and chat because I have already eaten dinner. It is amazing to listen to three or four different conversations in three or four different dialects. Some conversations will switch between English, Spanish and French while the participants tap their feet to a Dutch DJ, never missing a beat.

When finished with dinner, we will head down to the ground floor (aka the former entrance to a hospital) to play music on a single loudspeaker and hang out. There are usually between 40 and 70 people on the ground floor during a pre-party. Looking around the room, one would think it is a typical college party; people talking in groups, games, and dancing but it is much more than that.

This party is filled with people from all walks of life. People talk about current political issues while their hometowns are 5,000 miles. Others will be learning new party games to play. (For example; take a standard cup coaster, place it on the edge of a table with 3/8 of it hanging over the edge, use the backs of finger tips to flip the coaster in the air and catch it before it hits the table. Do this, then stack one on top of the other and repeat. My record is 8 coaster stacked on top of eacher, but I have heard tall tales of people flipping 16 coasters. This may or may not be a so called “drinking game” but I would never do such a thing.)

All the while, the dance floor will be filled with people performing dances from their native countries. Some perform a salsa, some flamenco; others will do dances I have never seen before. I, on the other hand, stick to the classic sprinkler and running man which is loved by everyone.

The pre-party on the ground floor lasts until 12:30 or 1:00am (mind you, the bars and clubs here are open to 5:00am or later). At this time, it is off to the races. We all hop on our Euro bikes and head towards to center (again, the center is what everyone refers to as the “downtown” district of the city). The bike ride lasts about 20 minutes and is filled with thrills, spills and general debauchery.

It is quite a sight to see 15 to 20 international students coming from a pre-party riding down a bike path. It is comparable to the walk form a tailgate back home, but on bikes in a city that dates back to the first century; people laughing and giving a friendly nudge, others singing off tune and way too loud. It is a spectacle.

In Utrecht there are many small pubs similar to the small bars you see in Michigan. There are also very large clubs which everyone calls a “Discotech”. Every time I hear the term Discotech I silently recite the line from You Don’t Mess with the Zohan – “Disco! Disco!” then giggle a little. We usually go to the discotechs because we have a large group of people and most want to dance.

Walking into a standard discotech is like walking into a very large club that only plays house, techno and the occasional pop hit from 1998 mixed with the DJ’s personal beats. It is pretty awesome if you like that kind of music. Personally I love all of it, so I feel like a kid in a candy store when I walk in. The discotechs are filled with hundreds of people and the first thing you hear is the DJ sending a loud UH! Then a smoother TISSS!

Once used to the thumb of the bass, it is time to get acclimated to the styles of dancing. Finding a dance partner is as simple as tapping someone on the shoulder or whispering in someone’s ear but dancing isn’t as simple as 1-2-3.

I am familiar with three styles of dance. Those being; 1. The casual and appropriate face to face three step that you would find at a wedding or other formal occasion 2. The air guitar that accompanies Foreigner’s “Jukebox Hero” or Def Leppard’s “Photograph”, and 3. The standard bump and grind that everyone learned to love in high school.

Here, none of these are acceptable. Instead people dance to their own beat which involves a lot of head bobbing, foot shuffling and, of course, fist pumping. Dancing with a partner is very common but not what you would expect. Dancing with someone involves feeding off one another’s "beat" and reacting to something as simple as a glance or a faint hand movement. Obviously, I haven’t got the whole dancing thing down yet… But, I’m working on it.

DJ’s are usually rotated throughout the night, so the mood changed two or three times. Some DJ’s have a very smooth flow and keep the crowd in a euphoric rhythm while others are more into the high energy beat that gets people to jumping. Regardless of what the DJ plays, we have always had a great time.

After three or four hours of dancing and having our eardrums ruptured, it is time to head home. By the time we get our coats and find our bikes it is around 5:00 or 6:00 in the morning. As I said earlier, nearly everything closes in the evening. Everything except a few small eateries which they call “cafeterias” but it isn’t anything like a school cafeteria. It is a small building or stand that served deep friend and other unhealthy foods.

A good night out isn’t complete without a late night snack and since there isn’t a local Taco Bell or Menna’s Joint in town, we have to rely on the small cafeterias to fulfill our hunger. I recently discovered what may be the greatest “late night snack” of all time. It is a Turkish dish called the Kebab which consists of lamb, onions, peppers, and a delicious garlic sauce wrapped up in a thick pita. It is the perfect ending to a night out on the town.

Once satisfied with our delicious Kebab, we start our journey home. At this time it is nearly 6:30 in the morning and the sky is getting light. Our ride home is filled with the sound of birds chirping and ducks landing on one of many canals in Utrecht. It is hard to believe that this is just the beginning of our 5 month adventure in the Netherlands.

The Euro

Europe began to unite shortly after WWII realizing, among other things, the United States and Soviet Union had a very superior economic, political and military power compared to the mixed and clashing European States. This idea culminated into what is today’s European Union.

The European Union has brought 27 European States together under one geo-political party. It has brought economic, political, social and environmental benefits to all parties involved. Travelers are free to roam from country to country without the disturbance of boarder control. Countries are given the opportunity to reach European standards in the aspect of citizen safety, job security, health and education. Business greatly benefit from economical laws including free transfer of goods, freedom to provide services and free transfer of capital. But, it is the people who possibly benefit the most from the adoption of the Euro.

Imagine traveling through the colonial states on business or vacation and having to exchange currency several times. That is what it was it was like in Europe before they adopted a centralized banking system. The European Union is less than half the size of the United States and has a population density three times that of the United States.

People could debate the pros and cons on uniting Europe with a single monetary system for years but personally… I think it is extremely inconvenient. I am not speaking of the effect it has on society but rather the effect it has on my daily life. In particular, I am talking about the coin system.

I am being completely bias because in the US we have a relatively simple coin system; penny, nickel, dime, quarter. Of course there are the half dollar, Susan B. Anthony, Sacagawea and specialty coins that are still in circulation but honestly. When was the last time one of those was in your pocket?

In Europe, we have eight coins that are regularly used; 1 cent, 2 cents, 5 cents, 10 cents, 20 cents, 50 cents, 1 euro and 2 euro. For me, change is change. It is given to charities, placed in a pool table, or ends up in a jar at the edge of my dresser. There is no second though if I hear change hit the ground because nine times out of ten, it isn’t worth bending over and picking up. Now, I have to be weary of the jingle in my pocket, it could be worth quite a bit.

Before I go into detail about the change, let me give you a rundown of using a visa in The Netherlands. It is nearly impossible. American Visas will only work in a very select few stores, I haven’t found any restaurants, and at the ATM for a cash advance. The only cards that are accepted here are cards with a smart chip embedded into them. This isn’t a huge problem nor do I mind, it simply means I have to pay in cash.

I have a foolproof system for not spending too much money when I go out to a bar or a pub with friends. I only bring X amount of dollars with me (pretty simple) but sometimes I forget to empty my wallet of unneeded currency and bring more than I wanted to. This is where the change comes into play.

Since I have to pay for everything in cash, I always have a reasonable amount on my person when I leave my apartment. So when I step into an establishment which serves refreshing beverages, I ultimately have too much money in my pocket. I often wake up, look in my wallet and nearly have a heart attack thinking I spent more than I originally planned then, reach in my pants pocket to find 20 Euro in change. 20 Euro! That is more than 25 dollars.

As if having all this change isn’t a big enough problem, I have to find a place to store it all. Currently I have simple wallet with 4 card slots and a money clip. The typical European has a large wallet with a convenient pocket that zips to store all of the change. Obviously I don’t have that so my change ends up in all 4 of my pockets and when I go to pay for something I look like I’m doing the shimmy.

Once I stop dancing and finally get the change out of my pocket, I have to count my change like the nearly blind person who holds up the line in McDonalds. With one palm open in front of me, I use the opposite forefinger and thumb to poke and flip coins in an attempt to see what their values are.

I am getting better with my change management. I have graduated to storing all of my change in one pocket while keeping my wallet in a separate pocket. I also got myself into the habit of checking how much change I have before opening my wallet.

The Euro is a great tool for uniting a continent and mustn’t be looked at as a hindrance. So, I need to get over myself and do as the Romans do; or the Spaniards; or the French; and get with the times.

Super Bowl XLV Abroad

As you all know, Super Bowl XLV was played between the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Green Bay Packers. Super Bowl Sunday is a great day in America where family and friends get together to eat, drink, and watch the great game of football. It doesn’t really matter if you like the sport or even if you pay attention to the game. What matters is that you are in good company and enjoying yourself.

In Europe it is a completely different story. I started talking about the Super Bowl a few days ago and got a whirlwind of different reactions. Some people had heard about the super bowl and some hadn’t. Some knew that it was a big deal and some didn’t understand the concept at all but I gathered up a small group of friends to watch the game with.

Prior to Super Bowl Sunday, I started doing my research to find a pub that would be showing the game. Seeing as it is one biggest events in American sports, I thought finding a pub to watch the game would be easy. I thought wrong. I walked into the first pub and asked “excuse me sir, will you be showing the Super Bowl on Sunday evening?” His response was, “Super Bowl? What is, Super Bowl?” And such was the case in four more pubs until I got to the fifth.

I walked into a pub called Winkle Van Sinkel and asked a waitress the same question. She responded with an excited “Yes!” and continued to explain how her brothers like American football and how she used to watch it with them. Excited and tired from walking around town all day, I ordered a beer and sat at the bar. Only to have my hopes shattered when the same waitress approached me and said, “I’m sorry, there was a misunderstanding. I talked to my boss and we will not be playing the Super Bowl on TV.”

She referred me to a pub that she was certain would air the game and off I went to find Mick O’Connell’s Irish Pub. It wasn’t far and I found the place with ease. In the window of Mick O’Connell’s was a half sheet of white paper with ‘Super Bowl XLV Sunday @ Midnight’ written in red marker. I poked my head in just to double check and when I asked the question to a waitress, she responded “Yes, maybe.” That was good enough for me.

We left our apartment around 10:30pm on Sunday evening to get a table at the pub. I thought since there was only one establishment in the entire city center that was showing the Super Bowl, it would fill up fairly quick. Again, I thought wrong. We showed up around 11:00pm and the place was dead. There were maybe 20 people scattered throughout the pub. We sat at a table with a good view of the TV and ordered our drinks.

I came to the pub with five other people (two Turkish guys, two Spanish girls, and girl from Belgium). The girl from Belgium enjoyed football and knew the rules while the other four were completely clueless. The two Turkish guys thought the Super Bowl was a championship for rugby, one Spanish girl thought it was for baseball and the other didn’t really care. She just came for the experience.

I played eight years of football and consider myself somewhat knowledgeable about the game. So, I thought it would be easy to explain the general rules and regulations of this great sport. I had no Idea what I was getting myself into.

It started with the kickoff. One of the Turkish guys asked “So, you can use your feet too? I thought that wasn’t allowed.” My response, “It is allowed during the kickoff and a few other occasions.” He came back with, “Why do they, kickoff?”

It continued with a Spanish girl, “Why are they lining up across from each other, and why is there a yellow line on the field?”

This is where I attempted to explain the bare essentials of American football, “downs”… This was my attempt, “The team with the ball gets four attempts to go 10 yards”… Interruption from one of the guys, “Wait, how many meters is that.” My response “It’s just less than 10 meters.” Explanation continued, “If they don’t move the ball 10 meters in four attempts, they must give the ball to the other team.” Interruption, “Why do they just give it up?”

After that arduous conversation ended and I thought I was in the clear, Green Bay scored their first touchdown and the questions started flying again… “They just scored one time, but there are 6 points on the board, why?” My response, “Touchdowns are worth 6 points, and then they have an untimed attempt to try and score 1 or 2 points.” The Packers went for 1, and the conversation was over…

Then, the Steelers went and kicked a field goal; oh boy. There were many confused faces because when the field goal was good, the scoreboard showed 3 more points for the Steelers and the questions continued. “Why was that kick worth 3 points and the other only worth 1.” “Why are they allowed to kick the ball before they score?” “Can you run and kick the ball through the bars for 3 points?”

And so the night continued. Here are a few of questions I would never expect to answer about American football.

“If they are playing in Texas and it is warm. Then, why are some players wearing gloves?”

“Why didn’t the other team get the ball when he ran out-of-bounds?”

“Why are all the players so fat?”

“The clock is moving but the players are just standing around”

On the rule of forward progress “Is it normal to have corrupt referees? That guy put the ball 5 meters ahead of where the player fell.”

During the first commercial break “The first period is over already?”

On touchbacks “So if you can move ahead 20 meters by falling into the touchdown zone, Why don’t they just run back there every time?”

When halftime finally rolled around it was 2:00am and everyone was tired. We rode our bikes back to the apartment discussing what had just happened. Everyone seemed to have had a good time and learned quite a bit about American football.

For me this experience was an eye opener. I never realized how sheltered football really was. It is a multibillion dollar business that barely exists outside of America and yet, I was still able to enjoy a beer, some good company, and watch the game that we all love.

Welcome to Beneluxlaan

Last night was the official introduction party to Beneluxlaan; but first let me give you the rundown of my "apartment" building. It was originally a hospital built in the late 50's and has all of the typical hospital features. Now, half of the building was renovated for living and the other half is reserved for offices of some sort.

When you first walk up to the building, you can see the canopy where the ambulance used to pull up. I get the image of bodies being hauled on a gurney into the emergency room, but that's just me. Once inside the building, you can see where the old receptionist desk was and also where the security guard sat. The corridors are 12 feet wide and come complete with handrails on every wall (I've been told they come in handy sometimes). Half way down each hall there are double swinging bumper doors equipped with wired safety glass windows and even some rooms have the same windows on the doors.

The renovators of the rooms made an attempt to cover up the hospital look by adding hard wood floors and painting the walls. It looks like they did a fantastic job until you see the ceiling where the half-horseshoe tracks, used for hanging curtains, are still in place.

My room is a double room and is at least 3 times bigger than most single rooms. It measures about 30’x20’ with steel double doors that we now refer to as “our French doors” (it must have been an old handicap room of some sort). The outer wall has a two and a half foot ledge and the rest of wall is solid windows. We actually have a decent view from our room but aside from that, it is a glorified dorm room without lofts.

My favorite part of our hall is the bathroom. The bathrooms measure at least 15’x20’ and consist of one toilet, one shower head and a sink. There are no dividers or curtains, just those three objects in a massive room. Also, to top it off, someone placed a radio in the ceiling tiles of the bathroom that is directly connected to the light switch. When the light comes on, so does the radio; no exceptions.

Personally, I have a slight phobia of hospitals; the white walls, the smell, the underlying fact that people have died under its roof. So, moving into this place was slightly disturbing at first. But, in Beneluxlaan the white walls have been painted with murals and graffiti drawn by former students. The sterile smell has been replaced with a melody of different cuisines and a faint smell of past parties. It has a distinct "college" feel to it.