Ooops! Did I forget to tell you about Carnaval?

So I was looking back at my blog and I realised I completely forgot to write about this and it would be a shame not to since it really was my favourite weekend on exchange and soooo Dutch. This happened in mid-February, Valentines weekend, so you know only running a month late…

Carnaval or Vastenavond (in Limburgish: vastelaovend) – where do I even start? Probably with a bit of context – Carnaval is apparently originally a European Pagan Spring Festival (and spread to Latin America via colonialism) and was later adopted by the Catholic Church (hence why it is only celebrated in the Catholic south of the Netherlands). It is celebrated in the days leading up to Lent, but actually goes on for weeks before with small parties and events. Wikipedia describes it as a “role reversal” event in that all social norms about behaviour are disregarded and I think I can certainly agree with this – it is rare you see actual adults (as opposed to students) in fancy/costume dress partying in the streets. People of all ages dress up so crazy and it is clear the amount of time some people put into their costumes it’s incredible. Honestly I have never seen something like it. So with a small, tiny bit of context so you know what I am talking about, I will now tell you about my experiences of Carnaval.

I was lucky enough that one of my kids from introweek has family in Limburg (one of the main provinces where Carnaval is celebrated), but even luckier when it turned out her family actually were key in organising the Carnaval in Venlo and would be DJ-ing at one of the stages. So not only did we have a fantastic house in which to stay in, but also experts on the Carnaval. I arrived Saturday morning and the first order of business was to create a costume – the sillier the better. Our costumes were not quite as co-ordinated as a lot of the people we saw but I feel we looked good in a very mix-matched way – especially once we obtained co-ordinating aprons later of people in lingerie (you know the ones I mean). The amount of people from Venlo though who seem to own crazy printed matching suits – four leaf clovers, dollar bills, balloons, you name it I think I probably saw a suit with it on. I think my favourite costume I saw though was a group of 4 people who came as Piglet, Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore, and Tigger, and in a move of peak Dutchness had brought a bag of cubed Gouda and ham as a snack which they were more than willing to share. I chose an all-in-one white overall, accessorized with a delightful Hawaiian shirt and tiger mask – the tiger mask was quite a challenge to keep on especially since actually wearing it over your face really obscured your vision.  I think the bit of our costume that got us the most attention though were our signs around our neck saying where we were from. It is a tradition to take signs with you, or wear badges etc. stating where you are from and since we came from all over, we really couldn’t not. So there we were with signs from Toronto, Sydney, and London. This lead to so many people all day asking us “are you really from Sydney?”, “Did you come all the way to Venlo for this?” which was pretty entertaining. The best part though was due to Lotte’s uncle being a DJ on one of the stages we got to go up on stage and sing along to one of the songs about how the allied forces saved Venlo in the war. We didn’t really get many of the lyrics other than “Jeep, Jeep, Jeep” and “Petroleum stinks” – but after a few drinks, you really feel you can do anything. 

The day was fantastic, a real festival feel with multiple stages, music, and huge amounts of day drinking. We very sneakily hid alcohol in our bags and in various pockets and under items of clothing, so avoided paying for drinks in any of the stages all day until the evening. Our favourite was Rudolph’s though which are shot sized bottles of an energy drink and vodka mix – similar to a Flugel but cheaper (and probably not quite as tasty). Although all day we couldn’t understand the lyrics to any of the songs, by the evening I think we started to get the hang of mouthing along pretty well – no one would have known we weren’t locals…

That evening we went out, the bars were all so full, and there was a great street party going (fortunately we were absolutely blessed with gorgeous weather the whole weekend) – so we danced in the street and walked among the debris of the days activities, sat on the stages, and most importantly got a kroket and pataats special to end the night. Pataats special is essentially chips/fries, onions, mayonnaise, and sate sauce – personally I did not enjoy it, but the kroket was great. The Dutch love to deep-fry everything, but some of it you can’t deny tastes good. We did also go to a bar which was absolutely rammed and so hot, and we had really dressed to wrap up. Something about Carnaval though brought out all the creeps, so we spent a lot of time trying to avoid strange men trying to hit on us. Why do they never get a hint and insist on putting a downer on everyone’s nights? Oh the rant I could have on this topic, but I will save you that pleasure.

After the madness of Saturday, we had a far more chill day on Sunday. We didn’t dress up as much, only wearing our aprons and location signs and walked over to the next village for a Carnaval parade. This was far more like the carnivals I am used to at home with local organisations having floats and parading past. However we were right near the end of the parade, so it was somewhat… disjointed. We had a great time getting sweets thrown at us though, sitting out in the sun, and eating Limburgse Vlaai (super delicious pie). It was a shame to go back to Utrecht that evening, but having such a wonderful weekend with such lovely people just made me so happy – even if I did manage to pull a muscle Irish dancing at the street party. And next year… maybe I’ll be back!

It’s a Gouda life

Except Gouda isn’t pronounced at all like good. Not one bit. “How-da” – with the trademark Dutch throat full of phlegm for the g. About 2 weeks ago now, me and some of my kids went to Gouda for the afternoon – it being only 14 minutes from Utrecht by train. Turns out there isn’t all that much to do in Gouda, which worked out well after we lost someone at the station and spent 30 minutes trying to find them – downside of having one of the biggest train stations in the country. But off we went to the home of Gouda kaas and the beloved stroopwafel. Gouda is such a quaint place – really cute back streets and canals (as ever, canals everywhere, I’m more surprised when there aren’t any). I especially liked all the footbridges over canals into people’s houses or shops, really lovely. Obviously being in Gouda though the focus was really on cheese, and oh my god did we eat a lot of cheese, I think the shop was out of samples by the time we had been in and tried every type. We did all then buy cheese though, largely out of guilt for the number of free samples we ate. I got some geitenkaas (Goats cheese) – but hard goats cheese as opposed to the soft stuff we are used to at home. I really should have bought some gouda though. Next up on our tour of Dutch delicacies was stroopwafel – we went to a cafe that specialises in them and they are easily the best ones I have ever eaten, which is saying something because even Albert Heijn own brand stroopwafels are good. I didn’t buy any though – instead favouring the stroopwafel liquer which really is the best thing I have ever drunk and am considering going back to Gouda just to buy some more. I even bought it in my best Nederlands: “Hoeveel kost het?”. It was actually a rare occasion when a shop worker replies to you in Dutch even though they know you are English. I had spoken to her in English and then as soon as I said something in Dutch she swapped the language. Makes a change from getting English responses when you have made the effort to attempt Dutch, and trying to speak another language, especially with no lessons, really does take a lot of courage particularly when your pronunciation is as bad as mine. We managed to find a little cafe in the warm since it had started snowing. Fresh mint tea is something that I think the UK really needs to get more into, every cafe here sells it and it’s wonderful. We then tried to find a restaurant, but apparently everyone in Gouda wants to go out for dinner on a Friday evening so we couldn’t get sat anywhere, then we had the great idea of going back to Utrecht. Meneer Smakers – probably my all-time favourite burger bar. It’s always so busy but the burgers are unrivalled and it’s got such a cool feel to it. I think it ties with the pancake house for my favourite place to eat in Utrecht.

Going solo – Brussels

I spent a lot of time trying to plan going somewhere during winter break, and both of my initial plans fell through. Warsaw and Copenhagen will have to wait (already got plans in the making for a trip around Poland). Instead though I ended up going to Brussels by myself, which rather than being super depressing and desperate was great. Definitely a convert to solo travelling – being able to go to whatever I want was great. I can fully realise that most people may not want to spend a full morning doing a tour of the European Parliament and going to the associated museum exhibition, but I did and loved every minute of it. Being able to eat exactly where and when I wanted was fantastic plus meant I had to achieve one of my New Year aims (as opposed to resolutions) which was taking myself out to dinner. I enjoy going for dinner and I enjoy good food, but being able to do it by yourself is hard. The first night I went to this great Art Noveau cafe that served incredible pitta breads and salad (Le Perroquet), and spent half the night concerned people thought I looked sad and desperate but soon settled into it. That said if solo dining is something you want to try, I would definitely recommend taking reading material – there is only so much people watching you can get away with and I didn’t even have the luxury of eaves dropping since it was all in French. The second night I went to a far more touristy restaurant mainly because of the deal they had going on – huge pot of mussels, beer, and frites for €15, I wasn’t going to pass that up. Here there were loads more solo diners and I got chatting to a French man intially about my book, but then about London and Utrecht. It’s odd how there is this shared kinship between people when they are alone. Whilst we are on the topic of food obviously I need to address the two most important food items I bought and ate there – of course waffles and chocolates (Vlamse frites get an honourable mention). I had heard people talk about Belgium waffles but never had I truly understood the magic until I bought one with strawberries, bananas, and dark chocolate. Heaven. It wouldn’t be a city break for me if I didn’t also try to tick off as many of the sights as possible and squeeze in all the culture, apparently my description of having been to museums as having “done them” says a lot about my family and our very organised trips (but enjoyable) everywhere. I did miss out two things I really wanted to see mainly due to the appalling weather and rain, favouring sitting in cafes reading and eating cake over trekking through a park. The atomium and the royal gardens will have to wait for a nicer day. Brussels is so nice, I will definitely be back. First stop when I arrived Wednesday evening was the Grand Place (which I returned to again and again) and the Manneken Pis which is disappointingly small. The Grand Place is so beautiful, particularly when it is all lit up at night. Just round the corner from here there were hundreds of chocolate shops where I selected my own box on 17 Belgian chocolates – after eating the entire box I think I made good choices. Also in the area was a beautiful shopping arcade which I had been to before last time I went to Brussels but this time explored a few of the shops a bit more – which, me being me, included going in every book shop I saw even though almost all the books were in French. I also went to the Royal Palace whilst wandering around – there was clearly some kind of event going on as expensive black cars were all the way down the drive and people in very fancy clothes were walking around. Very odd though how they have no proper fences between the road and the Palace so I wonder if maybe it is only used ceremonially, because I can not imagine Buckingham Palace with that little security. Looked very pretty from the outside, but I didn’t go inside because I was travelling on my own and to be honest I am not a huge fan of walking around palaces after the first 2 rooms – I don’t even know if you could go inside. Instead I walked over to the Mont Des Arts which has an incredible view over the whole city and is just a lovely place to sit I imagine (which I would have done were it not raining). Around here are loads of museums including the Musical Instrument Museum which looks so cool from the outside. However on good recommendations I went to Magritte Museum which was so good! As someone who isn’t hugely into art the fact I spent around 2 hours in this museum is a testament to how good it was. My prior knowledge of Magritte was limited to a book my Granny had at her house when I was younger, so it was interesting to see the huge amount of art he produced and some of it was so incredible. Would thoroughly recommend especially since I got in for €2 because of my age. The layout of the exhibition is slightly confusing though – I got mildly lost once. After dinner that day I decided that I would rather find somewhere to sit and have a drink than go back to the hostel, so after a quick flick through my guidebook to Europe I decided to try and find some of the bars/pubs/Bruin cafes that were recommended – I ended up having a beer in the pub where Magritte and the rest of his gang of surrealists used to hang out (La Fleur en Papier Doré / Het Goudblommeke in Papier) which was really cool especially because there was writing on the wall done by them. It did feel very much like a local pub though although it is very central – which was slightly alienating for me sat alone with my beer and book. I absolutely loved Brussels – it has incredible street art, food and is such an easy city to get around, only real shame is the weather. But here’s to challenging yourself, solo travelling, and the start of a semester where I really intend to make the most of my time on the continent.

A weekend trip to Prague

After a very successful Halloween where I dressed up as Mary Poppins, I went to Prague for my friend Melissa’s 21st birthday. I am absolutely obsessed with Mary Poppins to the point of watching it 4 times in a 2 week period – a highly underrated Disney film – and I loved my costume, definitely one that will be used again.

Zombie Hipster, ‘the death of Scottish Independence’, and Mary Poppins

I had planned to go to the masters open day at the University of Amsterdam on the Saturday, which is why I booked my flight then rather than the Friday – however my flight was about 3pm in the afternoon which made going to any of the talks which all started at 1 or 2 very difficult. Besides if I do decide to do my masters in the Netherlands I think I would go to Utrecht University anyway. Ever the anxious flier I arrived at the airport about 2 hours before my flight when I had no luggage to check-in, but plenty of time to shop – or so I thought. Due to flying on that specific flight and also flights going to Milan and maybe Geneva we got put in the tiniest departure lounge with basically no duty free and to my dismay no MAC counter to treat myself to some new make-up. It’s only saving grace was free wifi and plug sockets.

I arrived in Prague around 5:30pm and somehow managed to make my way to the hostel – I have no idea how really since the entire bus journey was in the dark with all the stops read out in Czech, but I did it. I did then get hideously lost trying to find the resturant for dinner where I planned to meet my friends, walking 30 minutes to the Jewish quarter when really it was a 5-10 minute walk from my hostel. Arriving half way through dinner whilst travelling seems to be becoming a bit of a tradition for me. It was so so nice to see some of my friends from uni, it came exactly at the right time after a week of missing my Leeds friends loads!

That night we went out to celebrate Melissa’s birthday, first with a house party and then going to a club for Halloween (recycled part of my Mary Poppins costume and went as a vampire schoolgirl). I think the last time I went to a club was before I moved to Utrecht so the end of August, so that was an interesting experience. The UCSA bar on campus is great because it’s so close to home and you know everyone and generally feel very safe – but I need to start breaking the bubble and going ‘out out’. There are so many great places to drink in Utrecht, when my Dad visited (the weekend before Prague) we went to Kafe Belgie which had the most impressive selection of beer I have ever seen – I need to explore more. That said, I do have a tendency to get bored of clubs very quickly or just tired – I managed to last until about 3:30 in Prague though when it was time for the best part of any night out – post-night out food. This is what I live for.

Outside the National Museum that turned out to be closed for the next 5 years

I’d already been to Prague whilst interrailling after first year, although we were only there for a day so didn’t see everything. It certainly took some of the pressure off sight-seeing though combined with having a friend who will be living there for the rest of the year. We did a lot of wandering around and sitting down and eating often without any particular aim. We went to Campa island which looked like it would have been a really interesting art exhibition if we hadn’t arrived shortly before it closed so could only see one room. 

I hadn’t been to the Jewish quarter when I went last time so on the Monday we wandered around there and saw some of the old synagogues –  we chose the Spanish synagogue mainly because it was cheaper and less busy than a lot of the older ones. I don’t think I had ever been in a synagogue before which is odd because we did so many school trips round churches and temples – this synagogue did however seem to be preparing for some kind of concert so probably wasn’t the best example. It was so beautiful though – really decorated and opulent but quite small which made it feel not too ostentatious.

Spanish Synagogue

Really though as ever the highlight of this holiday/trip was the people and the food and oh my god the food, Italian food, Lebanese food (all I ever want to eat again), an African cafe, traditional Chinese tea, gluhwein/mulled wine, V for Vendetta/anonymous themed bars and cocktails (I would thoroughly recommend – it was really cool). I like this travelling round Europe lark.

Chinese tea table

Prague, I will definitely be back.

Zaragoza at last!

The Plastics made it

Zaragoza is such a beautiful city especially when it is filled with such a beautiful group of people. Lots of food, alcohol, culture and relaxing was exactly what we needed after long days on the road (more for others than us lucky ones who bankrupted ourselves by getting the train).  The sun made it even better, we really hit the jackpot consistently around 25 degrees – perfect!

Fountain that from the top helped form the outline of South America

From the church tower we got a beautiful view over the city and especially the top of the Church which was very impressive. The Church inside however managed to be even more impressive, if slightly overly ostentatious. Gold dripped from every surface and art adorned the walls – one of the most impressive Churches I have seen potentially. We were given very disapproving looks from the Priest however – short shorts are not ideal clothes to wear in a Catholic Church where people are praying. At least we weren’t playing drinking games outside this Church as we had outside another the previous night.

On the Wednesday we went to visit the Amphitheater after a late brunch – it was good, old, but I feel growing up in a Roman city you become slightly desensitized to Roman ruins. We also probably could have done with longer than 30 minutes to explore. Wednesday evening we flew home, via Brussels Charleroi, with UCU travellers taking up easily around 30% of the flight – it was around a 2 hour flight and when we arrived we had to navigate the metro in order to find our friends house where we stayed over night – ready for a day of exploring Brussels, Vlaamse frites and yet more trains…

55 hours, 5 countries and a lot of money

With midterms finally over, it was time to party to mark the start of fall break and a week of what we hoped would be fun and relaxing. Fun, yes. Relaxing, far from it. My unitmate, Maurits, and I had decided to join the university hitchhiking trip to Zaragoza, Spain. We aimed to arrive before the dinner on Monday at 8:30pm, it was only 1500km, how hard could it be? We had our route all planned out, Antwerp, to Gent, to Paris, to Bordeaux, and into Spain – turns out hitchhiking is not easily planned as it all depends on luck, which more often than not was not on our side.

Our eventual route

Our first lift was off a lovely medical student from Utrecht University who took us to a gas station just outside Venlo, completely in the opposite direction to what we planned but at least we were getting somewhere! We waited at that gas station for probably about 3 hours for another lift who took us in the direction of Maastricht but as they were heading to Germany they couldn’t take us all the way – bless them though they moved all their luggage around in their car to fit us in though. It definitely would have been easier to hitchhike East than South I think. The gas station we were dropped at though was fairly quiet but eventually we managed to persuade one man to take us to the next gas station, a grand total of a 7 minute drive – but this was great because this gas station had loads of truckers and within 15 minutes we were on our way to France via Luxembourg!

Anywhere South of the Netherlands please

Around 6 hours (2am) and 2 movies later we safely arrived in Metz, France – which in itself is a miracle as half the journey I am convinced he didn’t have either of his hands on the steering wheel and was watching films. As we arrived in the middle of the night we resigned ourselves to not getting a lift until morning, fortunately we were allowed to sleep (or attempt to) in the closed gas station restaurant. After about a 4 hour wait in the cold the next morning a British couple gave us a lift to Dijon – all the way through the beautiful French countryside to avoid toll roads. Turns out they had come from Amsterdam – if only they had seen us when they were leaving on the Saturday…

Sunday was actually going pretty seamlessly with lifts after that wait – only about 30 minutes in Dijon to get to Lyon with some boy racers, 15 minutes wait to get to Montelimar with a French couple who spoke no English, and then it all started to go wrong. We managed to persuade a couple to give us a lift from Montelimar to Montpellier which was ideal, we could definitely make it to Spain by that evening since we would arrive in Montpellier at around 6:30/7. We didn’t. After agreeing to drop us at a gas station on the highway, they instead decided to drop us at a roundabout at a highway junction where we had almost no way of getting back onto the highway bar walking down the side of it to the next gas station (around 10k away) which looked terrifying especially in the dark. So we waited with our sign out asking for us to be taken to the next service station – only one couple picked us up who ended up having an argument in French in the front of the car and stopping the car in the middle of the road, turns out the man just wanted the driver to kick us out the car in the middle of the road but she was refusing. Determined to continue hitchhiking we called a cab to get us back onto the highway, but at the cost of €120 it was definitely not worth it, all the closest gas stations off the highway were also closed, so I made the decision to go to the train station and get the next train that would take us towards Spain. And thus, we were on our way to Perpignan with me texting my Dad asking him to find us the closest hostel to the train station – worst hitchhikers ever.

Perpignan however is really lovely, so I’d recommend a visit.

The next morning we woke up refreshed and dreading another day of hitchhiking, but like the martyrs we are we persevered against our better judgement. Our first ride took us onto the highway crammed into the back of a car with a sleeping toddler, leaving us at a peage/toll station. Apparently this is a good spot for hitchhiking, our experiences would argue otherwise, but eventually we were picked up due to our “lovely faces” and the fact that we probably looked about 16. In all honesty though, I would rather they had just left us as our next (and final) ride took us only to the next highway exit near a toll station and abandoned us with little warning. Queue us walking alongside the side of a highway with no layby and having to run across highway lanes – absolutely terrifying. Fortunately there was a parking spot on the otherside of the peage, where we waited and waited and waited to no avail only laughs from passers-by. Safe to say I did not deal well with this and sobbed for about an hour and a half. We did secretly hope my emotional distress would improve our chances, it did not – not even when we asked for help from the police but some ladies who worked at the toll station took pity on us and told us where to go to get a bus back to Perpignan where we had decided we would get the train.

The Pyrenees

Well that bus journey was quite the adventure as there was a gang fight on the bus with people armed with screwdrivers – very Orange is the New Black. No one was injured but it was all very exciting and made for a fantastic story when we arrived in Zaragoza.

3 trains and €82 later we arrived in Zaragoza. €70 of which went on the one highspeed train from Girona to Zaragoza which didn’t even have WiFi or power sockets – east coast does better than that!

At least we managed to make an entrance though, bursting in an hour late to dinner to rounds of applause – we had arrived and I could not have been happier.

However much we might have hated hitchhiking at times, when it was good it was very very good and when it was bad it was horrid. The good times, the lovely people and the time spent in Zaragoza definitely made up for all the bad – I would do it again but don’t ask me for at least a few months and definitely do not ask me to return to the South of France ever.