Some R & R? No, not really.

Have you ever had these mind numbing headaches at times? Coupled with an accelerated heartbeat? And then the vein in your forehead does this weird dance, shifting and sliding everywhere to the point where you have to use one finger (or two) to hold it in place? Yes? Me too. And has it happened that one day while you were at the supermarket, Angelina Joile meets you at the check-out counter and explains that this is because you are a gifted person, with a heightened sense of perception, one of the very few in this world, and that she needs your help? And then she takes you in and trains you to be a deadly assassin, teaching you fancy skills like train-jumping, bullet-curving, getaway car-driving and the like? No? Me neither. Siiiiiigh. I guess until that happens I'd better find a way to deal with these blasted migraines and the bulging forehead vein.
In other news, I just finished the toughest three credit course I have ever taken. (Of course every three-credit course I take is the toughest....until the next three-credit course comes along). But this course was a nifty one. It involved camping out at the University, eating food out of vending machines, drinking gallons of coffee and working with the Perfectionist. All in all, a good experience. The Perfectionist had to do everything incredibly....well...perfectly. Don't know how he does it or where he finds the time. He says he's Dutch, but I'm pretty sure there's a connection between his birthday and the day planet Krypton exploded. And I'm too bushed to do any investigative journalism, so the only thing you can expect from me are these tabloid like statements. A perfectionist in the team is a pretty neat thing actually. The only problem is, it makes my work look very sloppy. Ah well, can't win 'em all. I'm just hoping for a decent grade. The course ended with drinks at the Waag, the unofficial haunt of the Offshore Wind Turbine group (as I like to call them). This is one of their traditions, and a darn good one if I may say so. As one of the profs explained to me over a glass of frosty beer "As important as it is to finish assignments and meet deadlines, its just as important to make contacts and develop a good network. Also, the perfect way to unwind after a stressful course" Pearls of wisdom, lads, pearls of wisdom. If only I could import some of this back home....
Now, all I have left to look forward to are the upcoming exams, my project report submission, my thesis proposal submission, the actual thesis work, Dutch lessons...good grief. The list just doesn't stop. I guess its still not time to wean myself away from my caffeine addiction. That and my cravings for heavily salted snacks. The legacy of my camping-out-at-the-university days.
Anyway, gotto go. Maxwell's equations beckon. Take care now.

Cops

A singularly uneventful week, except for the usual mounds of unfinished work. That, and a sixty Euro fine for running a red light. Another dent in the ol' college fund. Siiiiiigh!
It happened on the way to the swimming pool. We were cycling , a nice quiet ride at 7:30 in the morning, the Swim Buddy and me. The sun was just about kicking in and doing its stuff. At about this time there is hardly anyone in the streets. Pretty sparse, if you get my drift. So, there we were biking along, engaged in some intense conversation when suddenly there was this blue blur and this lady cop is riding along side us. "Jongen", she said "Met de politie...". At these words, my heart slowly slid down and reached my stomach region. Quite possibly, the ol' stomach acids got to work on the cardiac tissue. I'm not too sure about this last bit though. I was feeling quite numb. The reasons for this were quite varied. One, I had no identification whatsoever, this being my usual practice when I go to the pool. I leave my stuff in the general area of the swimming complex and it is safe, but still, I never take my wallet and other unnecessary things there. Two, my bike lamps were off. It should have been on because it was still kind of dark. Bikes with dynamo's being such a pain and all that. The Swim Buddy was also feeling the same way as his predicament was pretty similar to mine. Except that his front light was on, but this tail light was off.
So, she directed us to the side and the Swim Buddy and me resigned to our individual fates slowly mounted the kerb, parked and dismounted. The Policewoman, zig-zagged around with her fancy bike and parked strategically in front of us, doubtless to prevent any hastily thought up escape plan. Not that we'd stand a chance against that sleek 18-gear monster she was riding.
She calmly let us know that we'd jumped a red light. The two of us simultaneously whipped around to check out the lights. But we couldn't really see the lights. (I mean, we just passed them). Besides, I don't really remember checking out the lights before we crossed the intersection, so she was most probably right. Once the Policewoman realized that I was a foreigner she spoke to me in English. Rather nice of her. She spoke to the Swim Buddy in Dutch and then said the same thing to me in English. Cops, this polite, back home? Forget it. I could have told her that I did understand a little Dutch, but I thought it prudent to clam up and let the Swim Buddy handle the conversation. She told us that she'd have to fine us sixty Euro's each and then asked for some identification. Increased stomach acid activity at this point. The Swim Buddy explained that we were on our way to the pool and therefore didn't have any identification. This is it, I recall telling myself, She's going to call for backup, we'll get hauled to jail and then I get deported. Bye Bye Holland. Well, she didn't do any of that, but she did tell us that the fine for not carrying an proper ID was fifty Euros. The stomach acids were having a party. I could hear the drums. We madly scrambled around in our bags for some form of identification, but really, there was no hope. I just had my sports card and that wasn't much. I think she noticed the condition of our bike lights, but she probably decided to give that a miss. Just as well. My stomach wouldn't have handled the strain.
She started to write the fine down and then paused, looked at us and asked us what time we had to be at the swimming pool. One of those "Whaaaaaat???" moments. The Swim Buddy said that we generally stayed there for three quarters of an hour. She promptly closed the book, took out her note book and asked for our names and addresses so that the police department could mail us the fines. Good Grief, I was thinking We don't have ID's and proof of address. Are you really going to trust us? Well, she did trust us. No idea why. Perhaps the honest face of.......Never mind, never mind.
Anyway, we gave her our names and addresses. Our real names and addresses. She told us we were being fined just for the red light bloomer and to expect the bill in six weeks. She also told us to carry a proper ID at all times. And you've got to keep in mind, the whole time she was talking in Dutch to the Swim Buddy and then repeating the same thing in English for my benefit. The whole time. Can cops get nicer than this? I think not.
Not bad for my first experience with Dutch cops. Ok, my second experience. The first time was when I was biking in a pedestrian zone, when presto, this cop comes out of nowhere and lays the law down. I escaped, unscathed, that time by pulling the dumb foreigner act. I sorry. Engels? Engels? It worked that time partly because he was a guy. You know what I mean. Guys tend to ignore these little things. Women, on the other hand will go to great lengths to make sure you pay for every tiny thing you did. In retrospect, I suppose, the Policewoman could have let us off with a warning, what with it being a deserted street at daybreak and all that. But that would have gone against every instinct of Womanhood. Still, she fined us just sixty Euros. Just. I guess I should be grateful, eh?
Like I was saying, Dutch cops are ...well...nice. Lots of other people have also told me this, based on their experiences. Lets just hope it stays this way.

The Art Of Social Kissing

I suppose its about time I tackled this subject. This Social Kissing thingy is quite common here in Delft. The first time it happened to me? Well, it was a little weird. Downright ghastly actually. But it was totally my fault. Honest. Anyway, the procedure is pretty simple. You greet the girl, then lean forward and tilt your head to the right. In the meantime, the girl also does the same thing, but she tilts her head to the left. This direction of the tilting head is not really a hard and fast rule. But its got to be mutual. So if the girl tilts right you have to tilt left. Eventually, your heads should meet (unless one of you is doing it wrong) and at this time you land a kiss on her cheek while she lands one on yours. That's about it. Pretty simple, eh?
Nope. Not for me anyway.
I still remember the first time. The only time. I was in a crowded pub, with a bunch of friends. This Greek girl comes along and goes "Hiiiiii" with a customary big smile. (For Greeks, big smiles and "Hiiiiii's" are customary.) Then she leans forward. My super fast brain goes into smart mode. "Ah" I think, "She wants to tell me something. Obviously, she doesn't want to strain her vocal cords in this racket". She tilts her head and I tilt mine....... positioning my ear perfectly for her to speak her piece.
I tell you lads, I've never seen a smile drop so fast and a look of abject confusion come up in its place. But being Greek and being sweet she valiantly tries to land a peck on my cheek...and succeeds. My super fast brain finally gets it. I try to return the greeting, but by now its a clumsy and gawky movement. By the time the whole awkward scene is over she looks at me, the surprise in her eyes and face slowly giving way to enlightenment "Ahh..You don't kiiiisss." This said in a matter-of-fact voice.
That was one of them painful, squirming moments. Now, when girls see me, they stretch out their hand, keep maximal distance and then shake my hand. Thinly veiled sarcasm if you ask me. Well, at least they have a sense of humor.
Almost everyone here does the social kissing thingy. Can't think of anyone who doesn't. But not everyone gets it right. This gives me some evil satisfaction, knowing that I'm not the only socially inept chump in Delft. The best of the lot are the Greeks. They make sure its a warm and friendly gesture and there's got to be lip-to-cheek contact, otherwise it doesn't count. Chalk up another notch for the Greeks. The worst of the lot are the air kissers. Flamboyant, pretentious, (dare I say, Indian?) and what not. An air kiss is totally annoying to watch and those loud 'mwah's are an assault on the senses. But interestingly, I find out that air kisses are meant to be fake and are reserved for people who can't be tolerated. Does that explain the Indian connection? Hmm...let me mulch over that.

October

The cold and rain are here. Time to trade in my loafers for shoes, use heavy jackets and gloves and things. I've forgotten how cold it can get because of that uncharacteristically warm (or so my Dutch friends tell me) summer we had. The heating in my room is now on, another reminder that winter is near. Soon we'll be resetting our clocks as Daylight Savings comes to an end. It'll become darker earlier and that means I can jog in the dark. Well, its the only pleasure that I derive during this time, so don't begrudge me that.
The spaceboxes are full of new folk. Not that I've met them or anything. Its just that the high pitched whining of the smoke alarms assault my ears every five minutes. Guess, they'll learn how to deal with it. Just like we did. I also overheard an interesting conversation where this fresher was telling some other freshers about how 'it seems impossible to complete this course in two years'. Lousy kid. This is just the beginning. Wait until you get to the sleepless nights and eat-food-out-of-the-vending-machines phase.
When I got here last year, I was thinking of the honours track and a cum laude and extra credit and the whole works. But now (suitably humbled by the course), all I'm thinking off is finishing with a decent grade. Unfortunately, this quarter,I think I bit off a tad more that I can chew.I'm loaded up to the eyeballs with work. Unnecessary work, I might add, because I had obtained all the credits I was supposed to have obtained the previous year. All this with the sole purpose of concentrating on my thesis for the whole of the second year. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. If I get out of this mess unscathed, I'm not going to do any more hero stuff. I promise.
Dutch classes are picking up. Yep, I now take Dutch at the university. We're a diverse bunch -Chinese, Iranian, Colombian, Spanish, Australian, Bangladeshi, Greek, Mexican and Brazilian. Wonder if I've missed any nationality. Nope, don't think so. I'm the only Indian in class. And in case you're wondering, there are only about fifteen of us in the room. Couple that with an incredibly enthusiastic Dutch woman, who enjoys imparting knowledge, and you get some amazing dynamics. Apart from the course, meeting all these folk is interesting. A Chinese girl actually talked with me. I mean, imagine that. Normally they shuffle their feet, avoid all eye contact and steer clear of my path. Guess I should stop stereotyping, eh? Ok, wait, that's just one Chinese person out of the many in Delft. If there are three others who have a normal, relaxed conversation with me, then I'll stop stereotyping for sure. This one even got my name right. Most Chinese and Korean people (to my knowledge, anyway) can't pronounce 'n' properly when it is in the middle of a word. It comes out sounding like an 'r'. So, instead of going "Anish" they go "Arrish". I gave up trying to correct that a long time ago. Quite a scene it used to cause.

Me: Err...It's Anish, by the way.
Random Chinese Person: Ok, Arrish
Me: No, no...Annish.
Random Chinese Person: Ok, I know, Arrish.
Me (with exaggerated lip movement): Annnnish.
Random Chinese Person (with exaggerated lip movement): Arrrrish.
Me: Siiiiiiigh.

Coming back to Dutch, I must reiterate, progress is good. At the beginning of my tenure in Delft, I used to say "Ik kan niet spreek Nederlands (I can't speak Dutch)". Now I've upgraded to "Ik kan spreek Nederlands maar niet zo vloeiend (I can speak Dutch but not so fluently)". Hopefully, the next time, someone asks me for directions or whatever, I can launch into a nice soliloquy without making excuses.
Tot later.