Log On To Leave A Comment

I have never watched any reality television. Ever. Not one single episode of one singular show. And neither will I. Ever. I refuse to do so purely out of snobbish principle: I think reality TV is the biggest load of junk ever to come on television (and that is saying a lot, considering the stringent competition). I blame the Dutch – John de Mol in particular – for hatching the concept, and I vehemently blame the Americans for making it a global craze.

There are, of course, those who will be quick to point out that they only watch reality TV because of the fascinating (if horrific) perspective it gives you on human nature. Although this argument will still not convince me to be vaguely interested in any of the Kardashians, other people’s lack of fear / parenting skills / style, or other people’s love of conflict / makeovers / weight-loss testimonials, I do concede that this is a valid justification.

I concede the point because I’ve just realized that I’m inadvertently drawn do the Internet-news-junkie-equivalent of it: To my great chagrin, I cannot help but to read the comments posted below news articles and opinion pieces. Regardless of my many admonitions just to ignore them, I just have to read how shortsighted people are; how circular their arguments; how intolerant of other people’s ideas; how un-/misinformed their views; how quickly they get personal and offensive.

Is there any help for me in my self-righteousness? Please log on to leave your comment.

America, the Green?

Over the past few decades, the US has established a global reputation for consuming almost everything imaginable – energy, minerals, food, water, consumer goods – without developing a counteracting ‘reduce, reuse, recycle’ attitude. I was considering the merit of this criticism last week while pondering the news that China has exceeded the US as the world’s biggest energy consumer, and has overtaken Japan as the world’s second largest economy.

First off, it has to be acknowledged that there is a certain hypocrisy inherent to this criticism, especially when made from outside the US. The rest of the world has been benefiting from US consumerism because it has fuelled major global economic expansion for decades, and will continue to do so (although, again, China is vying for first place in this category too). If US consumers spend less money – and hence, consume fewer resources and reduce their environmental impact – the World collectively reaches for Prozac.

Secondly, it is untrue to say that the typical US consumer doesn’t recycle at all. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I, together with all my neighbours here in Farmington, have a huge garbage bin that is designated for key recyclable items only (paper, hardboard, hard plastic, aluminium cans), which is collected at my doorstep once a week together with my non-recyclable garbage. And I would hardly describe the US Southwest as a bastion for environmentalism. Sure, compared to, say, Europe, the US still has considerable advances to make; but let’s not resort to hyperbole here.

A third point relates to an observation concerning American eating-habits I’ve made a long time ago. I’m referring, of course, to Americans’ well-deserved notoriety for serving insane portions in their fast food joints and restaurants. This is certainly not a debunkable myth – the portions are, indeed, insane, if not obscene – but there is more to it than what meets the digestive track. I rarely witness Americans finishing those portions (unlike, I am sad to say, the many South Africans in South African Restaurants, who, in conjunction, are clamouring to surpass the US in this respect). And they don’t send it back to the kitchen either – no, they ask the waiter for a ‘take out’ box and take the debris home. ‘Vulgar!’, I hear the Europeans scoff, ‘not to mention all those polystyrene containers!’. Fair points, both; but the point I’m trying to make is that Americans are bargain hunters in their very hearts and kidneys – hence, the expectation that restaurant food should be cheap and the portions huge – and in the process, they are not nearly as wasteful as they are often portrayed. Whether cold pizza actually constitutes a well-balanced breakfast / lunch is not an argument I will consider right now.

My final point also relates to this bargain-hunting mentality, and is something I’ve seen consistently portrayed by Hollywood over the years without having any idea how prevalent the phenomenon really was. I’m talking about the ubiquitous suburban yard / garage sale. Well, I can now report that it is just as picketty-fencey quaint as in the movies, and just as popular (although, I concede, it might also be an indication that there isn’t all that much going on in Farmington). Now, I have absolutely no inclination to go scavenging through other people’s junk over a weekend (and often on weekdays too), but you would be surprised at the astonishingly high number of people that seemingly live for these things. The important point, of course, is that yard sales are important vehicles for reusing, reducing, and recycling. And what is eBay, after all, than a mega virtual yard sale? (Has anybody calculated, by the way, what is eBay’s – with its reported ‘hundreds of millions of registered users’ – global contribution toward, say, reducing greenhouse gas emissions?)

Perhaps all these arguments can be swooped off the table with one fell (and foul) swoop: Americans and their love for their gas-guzzling cars and their extensive aviation network make all these points I’ve made irrelevant. Perhaps. Probably. But what I’m trying to say is that Americans, probably like anyone else on this planet, has a basic inclination to reduce, reuse, recycle if the opportunity is there, and if the logistics for it is in place. And, importantly, that if environmental efforts can appeal to the average American’s propensity to go for the bargain, to make the profit, then we have a deal, baby. The Kyoto Protocol valiantly tried to incorporate these principles (which, ironically, were ultimately rejected by the Americans). Hopefully, its legal successor – whenever that miracle of international diplomacy will materialize – will do even better; and, hopefully, America can become home of the Brave and the Green by signing on, and staying signed on this time.

I Luuuuuuve Your Accent

A weird phenomenon has been playing itself out repeatedly ever since we’ve hit town. And with ‘we’, I mean us Afrikaans-speaking, English-second-language folks. Wherever we go across town or in the area, the moment we open our mouths to say something, the following dialogue occurs, without fail:

Us: Can I have a tall Latte, please? / Thank you / Good bye / Yes, it’s very hot today / whatever-small-talk-one-makes-when-about-town.
Local person (interested): Hey! Where are you guys from?
Us: We are originally from South Africa.
Local person (excited): Ooooh, so what are you doing here?!
Us: We have moved here recently because of Jac’s job / something to that extent.
Local person (approvingly): Oh, I luuuuuuve your accent!

Now, the irony is going to be lost on all you non-South Africans out there, so I’d better explain. Most, if not all, Afrikaans-speaking South Africans are actually embarrassed by our English accents. Most of us won’t like to admit it, but we’d much rather sound like the Queen, than like P.W. Botha. I’m not sure where this accent-minority-complex comes from, but I suspect it goes way, way back into our verkrampte en verligte history – back to where the English first took over the Dutch colony that was the Kaap de Goede Hoop, and turned it into Cape Town. When crown English became the language of the elite, the ruling class, the educated; and kitchen-Dutch (the derogatory term for Afrikaans used at the time) was synonymous with uneducated, unpolished Boere. I’ll spare you the rest of the history lesson and fast forward to the time where guys like P.W and Pik were lecturing the world on television – in horrrrribly Afrikaans-accented English – about how our domestic policies where none of their damned business. I can distinctly remember watching this as a young child – completely oblivious to the politics, of course – and thinking: why, oh, why is their pronunciation so verrrrie bad? It certainly did not help when, as I grew older, I came to understand the politics associated with that accent. Oh, the embarrassment with (verrrrrie bad) Hollywood movies of the 80s and 90s (attempting) to portray the English accent of the Afrikaans 'bad guy' (although, kudos to Leonardo Dicaprio)! I even cringed recently at Matt Damon’s attempt to do Francois Pienaar justice – and he was portraying a 'good guy'.

So, we spend many hours to mould that accent into something better – if not the Queen, then at least Ruda Landman - and then, despite all the effort, the moment you set foot in London and open your mouth in public, the Brit you’re addressing goes: ‘You’re from South Africa, aren’t you?’ (It doesn’t help, of course that the damn place is infested nowadays with Afrikaans-speaking persons). How I hate being a bloody foregone conclusion!

Who would have thought, then, that I would have to come to the U.S Southwest – of all places – to learn to appreciate my English accent? I smile at Cecile’s first attempts at speaking English (‘thanks joe verrrie maaash, mamma!’), and it is pure P.W – for now, at least. I guess it’s just a matter of time before she is embarrassed by us, sounding like Boere, with her sounding like John Wayne.

Before we moved to Europe...

Our new life here in the Four Courners couldn't be more different from the one we've had in Europe. As I'm starting to taking stock of, be amused by, and (to a large degree) enjoy these differences, I'm repeatedly reminded of the priviledge to live and work in so many different places. I don't want to sound overly blasé here, but I've always felt that, while the 'sight-seeing' aspects are amazing (yep, it's great seeing the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Vatican, the Matterhorn, Amsterdam's Red Light district - no, cancel that one; it's just gross - etc.), the really amazing things have always been the experiences: the small, seemingly insignificant things that you probably never would have picked up otherwise.

So, before the New Mexico winds wipe away too many of my European memories, I've started to compile a list of the 'small things' I've learnt in the eight or so years we've lived there.

Before we moved to Europe…

…I had no idea that one could get used to having so many hours of daylight during spring and summer.

…I did not know how many cherries I could eat before I would get sick; that you get so many varieties; and that the cherry season was quite short, so you’d better eat all you could, while you could!

…I could not appreciate a bright-sunshine-blue-sky-day as much as I do now; now I know that each such day should be treated with the utmost respect; and that if you are Dutch, you will count the number of days that are hotter than 25 C EACH SUMMER.

…I have only seen snow once, when I was five or six years old.

…I did not know that different types of snow flakes actually looked so different.

…I did not know that Bratislava is the capital of Slovakia.

…I was not sure whether Slovakia and Slovenia are the same country.

…I did not believe that you really do not ‘unlearn’ how to ride a bicycle.

…I did not realize that there are that great a variety of tulips.

…I thought you could swim in all the oceans of the world.

…I did not know how public transport systems operate.

…I have never owned a platinum frequent flyer card.

…I did not know how beautiful a real spring season could be.

…I didn’t know that ice rain and hail are not the same thing.

…I celebrated my birthday in autumn.

…I was not quite sure how ‘daylight savings time’ worked.

…I would have found it weird to have an extended vacation between June and August.

...I didn’t realize that Christmases over here are mostly wet, not white.

…I never had to scratch the windscreen of the car on winter’s mornings (partly also because my car has always stood in a garage during winters, and not on the street).

…I didn’t realize that the lucky few who did own garages used them as storage facilities, and still parked their cars on the street.

…I had my own car, and had to drive wherever I had to go.

…my brain refused to believe that it is possible to drive on the right hand of the road; and to go around traffic circles counter-clockwise.

…I didn’t know that France is the traffic circle capital of the world.

…I was unaware of how closely certain parts of Spain, Portugal, Italy and Greece resembles the third world.

…I had no idea how beautiful and amusing the songs of a Blackbird could be.

…I did not know that my husband hated the sound of a ‘draai orreltjie’; it just reminds be of ‘Boeremusiek’.

…I though it was weird not to be bothered by other people seeing into your house as they walked by.

…I didn’t know how difficult it was to actually locate Liechtenstein.

…that those European tourists we've always laughed at for wearing shorts in winter were really laughing at us for thinking it was cold.

…I didn’t know that the languages of Finland and Hungary are related.

…I didn’t know that the Russians had their own alphabet, and that their language is related to Greek.

…I didn’t know that each Swiss canton had its own constitution.

…I didn’t fully appreciate just exactly how conservative Switzerland is.

…I never took walks in my neighbourhood after dinner, or over weekends.

…I have never recycled anything before, and that is the inconvenient truth.

…I didn’t realize that the Schwarzwald is really black.

…I never had the urge to be able to see what was going on in my neighbour’s backyard.

…I was not aware of the natural rivalry between the Dutch and the Germans; or the Danish and the Swedes; the Dutch and the Belgians – to name but a few.

…I didn’t know that Norwegians and Danes could understand each other’s languages, seemingly by default.

…I had no idea that headscarves could be regarded as offensive.

…I though that the Dutch term ‘zwarte scholen’ was just a bad joke.

…I didn’t realize that there were so many American tourists in Paris and Prague.

…I didn’t know that Budapest is just as beautiful (and in my mind, even more so) as Prague.

…I was fairly convinced that only South Africans are racists.

…I had no idea that I would come to love stinky cheese.

…I didn’t have an inkling of how heterogonous the Balkans is.

…I have never seen a glacier before, and have not been able to get my head wrapped around the concept either.

…I thought it was perfectly normal for children to be barefoot during summer (and on hot winters days too, come to think of it).

…I had this naïve idea that pillows, duvets and other linen were all the same standard size wherever you went.

…that I would become one of those people who think anything above 10 C is ‘warm’.

…I couldn’t hear the difference between Dutch and Flemish.

…I didn’t know how much Athens reminded me of downtown Johannesburg (‘I have a cousin that can show you around…’).

…I didn’t know that the Portuguese generally speak a passable English (due to the centuries’ old Port trade to the Brits), while the Spanish can harldy utter a word of English.

…that, thanks to all the American tourists in Paris, and all the British tourists in Provence and Beaun, you can actually get by with quite a bit of English in France nowadays.

…I would never have believed that I would come to understand and appreciate the Dutch’s policy on soft drugs.

…that coalition governments could be the norm; neither would I have thought it to be normal.

…that a coffee shop in Holland might be serving you caffeine, but not necessarily.

…that (South) Eastern Europeans smoke as if there is no tomorrow.

…that, if you wanted milk with your coffee, you’d better ask for it specifically.

…that only the English and South Africans take milk with their tea.

…that a large number of Poles are devout Catholics.

…that the Greek Orthodox Church celebrates Christmas and Easter on different dates than the rest of Christianity.

Come to think of it, no wind will ever wipe this away; no new experiences will replace the ones I've already had. And that is more worth than all the money in the world.

Between a Rock and a Dry Place

In South Africa, we always joke - with a lot of truth thrown into the jest - that 'Africa is not for sissies'. Well, I can tell you now that the US South West isn't either.

It’s dry; and dusty; and windy; and hot, damn hot. Summer temperatures around and above 35 Celsius are the norm and it has only rained once since we’ve moved here – a spectacular thunderstorm, including hailstones. Our lilywhite skins and our hair and eyes are screaming for constant hydration (Cecile is turning a nice nutty brown despite the Factor 50, though). And speaking of hydration: you leave your house without a water bottle at your own peril. Approach any minor outdoors venture without a hat, and you are toast.

And yet. The desert scenery is simply breathtaking. We’ve already fallen in love with the Pondarosa Pines, the Sage Brushes, the Pinion Pines and the Junipers – many of them downright ancient; the lizards, the Jackrabbits; and the rocks. Oh, don’t get me started on the rocks. I’ve had a thing for rocks ever since my inspiring high school geography teacher encouraged us to take notice of and to collect rocks everywhere we went. Rocks are nature’s sculptures and cathedrals: they are sure and true; they tell stories of millions of years gone by; and their beauty is honest. Most of them have been here when the Earth was still young (the lowest layer of the Grand Canyon, for example is nearly 2 billion years old – and the estimated age of the earth is 4.54 years), and they will remain here long after you and I have moved on. During our recent visit to Arches and Canyonlands National Parks in Southern Utah, I was struck by the thought that, if I had believed in reincarnation, I would have opted to come back as Entrada Sandstone: majestically eroding into weird and wonderful shapes while staring across the planes.


The rocks of the Colorado Plateau also remind me a lot of its people. Rarely have we come across people more open, welcoming, down-to-earth, warm, courteous, and honest-to-God friendly. Despite the obvious differences between us and them (political ideology comes to mind), barely six weeks have passed and we already feel like calling it ‘home’.

An Epic Struggle with the Admin-Monster

Over the past three months, and over the past three weeks in particular, I have been forcibly reminded of the Twelve Tasks of Asterix. And, specifically, how Asterix's wit, and Obelix's strength almost failed them at Task no. 8: 'Find Permit A-38 in The Place That Sends You Mad'. The point of that scene, obviously, is to never, ever underestimate the awesome power of Admin/Bureaucracy, or whatever its modern-day equivalents. Nothing makes one so aware of the strangling effect of the modern trappings of 'civilization' than an international move.

I concede that you could rightly expect us to be experts at the game by now, since it is our third international move, after all. True experts will tell you, however, that you can never conquer the Admin-Monster because it has multiple heads; and like the mythical monster, you cut one off head and it immediately sprouts another one in its place. What is more, the Admin-Monster's heads are also interrelated. I.e., you have to cut the heads off in the exact sequence - except that you don't know what the sequence is, or whether it exists in the first place.

Let me illustrate with a random example: open a postal box. A good idea, no? You will not have a permanent address for some time, since you have not yet found a house to rent / buy; and since you have to make various address changes, since your old house has already been sold. Since you are so experienced in these matters, you figure out how to apply for the postal box online. You follow all the instructions on the website, and rock up at the Post Office with your application form (which you had to forward to your husband's office for printing since your own printer is on a ship somewhere) and your two pieces of picture ID (required because of identity theft issues), exactly as stipulated. Except that the lady at the Post Office now tells you that she also requires proof of residential address, like phone or electricity bills - and, no, it doesn't matter that it wasn't listed as a requirement on the damn website, or that you do not physically have these things right now; Homeland Security makes the rules, not she.


Okay, so now you have to figure out a way to comply with this rule. In the mean time, you cannot change your address at the European Society of International Law, which means you cannot renew your annual membership, which means you cannot register for the September conference at the discounted rate before the deadline expires, which means .... are you starting to feel the madness encroaching yet? Now imagine having, say, 25 items like this one on your Admin To Do list, and every one of them plays out in similar ways. You are now close to understanding why I (and Jac, who has had to bear most of the Admin brunt) find myself developing foam around the mouth on a regular basis.

I was in a contemplative mood on my way back from the Post Office yesterday - that is, after I have drowned my defeat in an excellent Latte from Durango Joe's (isn't Drive Thru coffee the best thing since, what, Drive Thru Drugstores [and I'm not kidding]?) - and started to think what all of this says about us as a species. Because, no, it is certainly not limited to the US or Europe; and, no, it is not (that much) better here than in developing countries. We are all aware of the staggering rate of advancements and innovation - technological and otherwise - and how it is constantly improving our lives. While this is all true, we seem to forget the 'Dark Side' of it all. It sometimes feel to me (and by now the Latte's heart-warming effect was rapidly declining) as if our world is just becoming more convoluted by the minute. The more advancement is added, the more layers of complexity is added as well.

Plus, I fear, there is no turning back. I mean: think about it. I suspect our 'global civilization' will simply continue like this - exponentially adding complexity - until we just impload under the weight of it all and is sent back to the Whatever Age.

In the mean time, I have decided to institute at least one Admin-free day a week. Think I'll spend it out in the local desert, just with some water, and food. Having wireless internet with my Blackberry and iPod nearby would be nice. Oh, and some airconditioning, obviously. And while we're at it, can I take my laptop too so that I can Twitter and blog about the experience?

Farmington, New Mexico: Let the Dust Settle

After almost a year of 'will it happen? when will it happen?', it has finally happened: our entire family has now relocated to Farmington, New Mexico, where Jac has started to work for BHPBilliton's New Mexico Coal. Jac has already started here on the 1st of April, but Cecile and I have only joined him last week, after a luxurious 5-week visit to South Africa. After almost 8 years in Holland (almost 2 for Cecile), we are looking forward to a great many new adventures. I am looking forward to focusing (almost) entirely on my research while I'm here (my colleagues at Erasmus are green with envy), while Cecile has already enthusiastically taken to learning English ('fang joe verie mush') and playing outside in the glorious New Mexico sun - and dust, don't forget the dust.

As it settles, I will be posting regular updates of our new impressions, excursions, and expeditions.