lets go dutch

2009-03-30 1:09 p.m.

For my future reference, diet Pepsi tastes like drinking battery acid. I feel as though I’ve come to this conclusion before, but rigorous travel for fourteen hours has debilitated my logical thinking. I’m currently on the second leg of our flight home, trying my hardest to fend off sleep and thus regulate my internal clock (still don’t want babies, har har). So far, very unsuccessful. I’ve taken two deep naps, the most recent being rather fitful. I’m in the last row of a tiny airplane, window seat. It couldn’t get more miserable than this. Northworst has also decided to turn into Ryanair and forget about complimentary snacks, instead charging $5 for a chicken salad sandwich or some equivalent.

Strange that they were so hospitable on the way to the Netherlands. One key thing: free drinks.

Drinks only gin, says it’s how to stay thin, and she’s crying after every meal. No you don’t know how you’re making me feel.

No part of that statement is true save for the first third of it, but it’s a damn good song to dance to.

I suppose the flight to the Netherlands was so pleasant because it was under the Northwest name but really run by some Dutch company called KLM. They gave us free gin and tonics for me, rum and cokes for Ryan, and darling but cheap-quality miniature bottles of wine to Christine.

They also fed us on what seemed like an excessive basis – really felt like every hour they were rolling carts down the aisle. In my sincere excitement and maybe small bit of drunkenness, I would not let Guy, who sat beside me to the right, go to sleep. I really thought I was doing him a favor by waking him up fifteen minutes after he fell asleep to alert him that there was ice cream being passed around. A very important time, I think! I managed to be really good on the first flight to Amsterdam, and only slept for the fifteen minutes on Guy’s shoulder to my horror and in a short lapse of judgment.

We landed in the early afternoon, and after taking a train into the city center and finding our hostel to drop off things, were able to get some good sight-seeing in. Our hostel was in a prime location: five minute walk from Centraal Station and literally around the corner from the Red Light District. Everyone thought that this meant it would be unsavory and less safe, but it really wasn’t a problem. We spent very little time there (not much interest in the area for us girls and two gay guys) aside from one walk-through just to satisfy our curiousity and the usual tourist obligation. That first half-day and night we concentrated on situating ourselves and getting a good dinner.

Luckily I had the foresight to tear out a really crappy map of the city from the in-flight magazine. My team should really thank their stars that a) I was so ridiculously bored as to read through the magazine and find it; b) my parents made a regular habit of tossing me out onto the streets to fend for myself. That second part sounds a little awful but I really do thank them for instilling a truly cosmopolitan and street-smart part in me. From this truly vague map – if only I had a scanner to show the utter lack of street names, I was actually able to just hit the ground running and lead everyone everywhere. I had to frequently stop and ask for directions, which I usually hate. I feel that it makes me seem painfully tourist, and my sense of pride at being self-sufficient takes a hit. Sometimes it was so bad though that I really had to count the number of bridges/canals we were crossing and keep inwardly hoping that I was going the right way.

Initially there was so much whinging that I had to turn around and snap, “If you don’t like it, then don’t follow me. Find your own fucking way.” Things along the line of: “I didn’t fly around the world to go shopping in H&M;” “Where are we going and why aren’t we there yet?” “Do you know where you are going?” “Why is this so far?” “Why can’t we take the taxi?” “Why are you being such a bitch?” I continually turned around and told them that only the strong survive, and even now at the end of the trip, I can’t figure out why people can’t keep up with me. It isn’t as though I jog away from them. I’m walking at a reasonable pace, and sure, maybe I deftly dart through cracks in crowds that are harder for ten people to get through. 95% of the time though I would pause to look back and see that everyone was huffing and puffing half a mile behind me, vehemently complaining about my pace, tone, and direction.

Because of me though, we packed all of the substantive sights of Amsterdam into a day and a half. I probably should have blogged in increments from the beginning, and then I wouldn’t be struggling to remember things now. I think that we saw the Royal Palace, major plazas such as Dam Square and Rembrandt Square, the Rijks and Van Gogh Museums, Anne Frank’s house, the Flower Market, the Waterlooplein open air market, and Red Light District. It was exhausting but necessary; we only had that short time to see Amsterdam while we had a whole week to see the Hague, where the conference was.

From Amsterdam, it was only a forty minute train ride out to the Hague on Sunday morning. Ryan and Ariel went to registration while we all tried to mentally prepare for debating against the likes of Oxford, Brown, St. Andrews, and actually Cal. Model United Nations had invaded the city. There were pennants for us everywhere, and 2400 delegates wandering around at all times. Where we stayed there was even a good amount of delegates for the conference, despite the fact that we were a forty minute trip by mass transit from the World Forum. That was the only drawback of our accommodations. For a great price, our team got two bungalows, six girls in one, six guys in the other, with kitchens, common rooms, and a generally homey feel.

I feel like for conference, we did well and actually held our own against such intimidating conditions. Christine and I were in the biggest committee – 172 delegations representing countries as varied as Austria or Azerbaijan (in teams of two, so double that for the real amount of people), and still got recognized more times than anyone else on our team in their committees. We decided early on to try to play to our respective strengths, so our strategy was to have her caucus and write resolutions the whole time while I represented us in debate with speeches and lobbying. Everyone else on our team complained a lot that their chair wouldn’t call on them or was constantly out of order, but we had the best committee. Our chair was really efficient, fair, and debate flowed well. People knew who we were and worked with us, and I made friends along the way. Some people I bonded with over policy (cough, EU bloc) and then one of the days I formed a “We’re tired of Ricky Gervais” bloc. It was good times.

For the first half of the week, our team stayed in often. We didn’t plan ahead of time for the social events put on by conference, so they were usually sold out. We went to dinner and came home, or the grocery store to cook at home. There was one outstanding night in particular where ten of us spent hours drinking, talking and laughing, only to come home to two of the girls crying and threatening to leave. It was completely out of left field, and such bad timing. I can’t even explain how awful the night suddenly turned. Ariel and Ryan had to stay up until four in the morning to sort things out, and needless to say it soured relations from there on out.

The conference planned cheesy events like “Cabaret Night” or “Global Village Fair”, but they also arranged for an Amsterdam day trip on Thursday. At first, Ryan and Ariel misled us to believe that the trip would be E90 and a bust. It turned out to be only E30 and including coach buses to and from the city, canal rides around the city, and a great dance at the end of the night. Nima and I were determined to go, not so much to socialize with the committee as to fulfill a dream that we had developed after reading up on events in the city for the week. Ready for it? Peter Bjorn and John. In Amsterdam.

Baby went to Amsterdam, put a little money into traveling, and it’s so slow. So slow.

Y/N?!

Nima and I were the only ones who knew more than just “Young Folks”, but we still succeeded in convincing Ryan and Guy to go with us. Guy was especially surprising, since he didn’t even them at all whereas Ryan had basic knowledge.
Once in the city, we took a leisurely canal boat ride around and pleasant but slow walk to the venue. To my horror, when we got to the venue that afternoon to buy tickets, we were told they were sold out.

Such sudden despair that I actually broke down and hugged Ryan! Oh God, the slightest sign of affection and human nature from me. That’s when you know it’s serious. We had really been talking about it all week, and then all that morning and on the bus ride. We would just turn to each other and random moments and giggle, “PB&J! I’m so excited!” There was also the allure of going to a show outside of the States. I really wanted to see what it was like, just to have the experience. Also because of that, we weren’t sure how scalped tickets would work outside the door. It actually turned out to be very easy to get, and we found four tickets for reasonable prices within half an hour of pleading.

Speaking of new experiences… I made the mistake of getting high for the concert, just to see what it would be like. Took maybe three or four too many hits… and proceeded to freak out for the first half of the concert. I was quietly freaking out though. I wouldn’t talk to any of them because I had no depth perception and didn’t know how far forward to lean to whisper in their ears. Also felt like I was going to fall (I did not). Felt like they kept moving in circles around me (they were not). Felt like the lights were moving (they were not). I sobered up a third of the way through their set, and was able to really appreciate how good they are. It was amazing to be there in a crowd of just a hundred (maybe) and even be able to meet them all afterwards.

The dance put on by the conference worked out marvelously to be in the same venue. There was seriously just a plastic tarp up between the concert and the rest of the hall that they took down after awhile. We walked over to the other half, found the others dancing to really awful house music (what is it with Europeans and house music?) and tried to make the most of it. I spotted a few people I had been eyeing in committee (Mauritius, India, etc.) but of course I’m socially inept. We stayed for maybe an hour and a half there, but had to bus back early to get a decent amount of sleep for the last day of committee.

The last day of committee, the draft resolution that Christine and I sponsored and lobbied for passed, and everyone swarmed us requesting pictures and facebook. It was a good day, until closing ceremonies. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I also don’t want to lie and say I didn’t think we had a chance. I really thought we had a fighting chance because this was honestly the best the both of us have ever done in conferences. On that note though, it was because we were confident/comfortable with our performances in this conference that we weren’t too gutted when we didn’t get the awards. There were a few objectionable winners (Ethiopia? Really?) but we took it in stride.

Definitely overall this was my favorite conference of all the ones I’ve been to, and it was a nice note to end on in terms of MUN travel team.
Such a premature rush of nostalgia right now. Last competitive conference. Last quarter of teaching class come Tuesday. Last time chairing a committee for high school conference in a month. Model United Nations has been mortifying at times, frustrating many others, but always so satisfying in the end. It’s provided the best and worst of college, and hopefully the real thing will be the best and worst of my life.

Hey UN, if you aren’t a failing institution in my life time, please hire me.

PS: Top five stories of the trip…

1. Calvin spends E50 for a lapdance from an Amsterdam window girl, but doesn’t get any “sucky sucky” because he didn’t have a condom.
2. Guy picked up a painted oompa loompa on the tram.
3. Ryan slid down a flight of stairs, and instead of asking if he was okay and helping him up, Ariel, Christine and I doubled over in laughter for a solid five minutes.
4. We built a fort on the last night out of white down comforters and dingy red couches. Held up by a floor lamp and weighed down by our research binders.
5. Vaguely joined the Mile High Club with Guy on the first flight back.