RacecarSultan’s Birthday Party

Another day, another attempt for shopping – in our preparations for Romania. Fortunately, we get the flower bulbs for some people and then something for mom. This should save the day!

Sailorboy and I get the tram to Olympiastadion and proceed to the boat. We retrieve the other guests of the RacecarSultan and himself on water swimming away. Small crowd, but very in the mood, shinny and enthusiastic. Seems like this day was made for tripping on water. Such sunny nice summer day for lovely Amsterdam. Surprising and fresh!

We’re hitting it off, first silently, then getting in some latino grove and ending up in screaming loud singing-along Andre Hazes. My mumblings try to imitate the Dutch speakers, as I lack the lyrics knowledge, but shouting along seems to be working fine!

We’re on small canals, big ones, need to take a left and a right and look ahead, traffic’s hot on water this day.. go along with the others, slow down, increase rhythm. The boating experience includes getting on the floor for avoiding a very low bridge. Serenading under bridges seems to work perfectly for acoustics.. or rather echo-sounds. Tirol yahooing included.

Anything works! Even dancing with high danger of falling. Sailorboy figured it out he needs to be in my way for falling in the water. My high heals and drinking attitude won’t help. From time to time we stop by a coffeeshop or just a bar to try the toilet. The lively people in the places looked like a scared zoo. The framework was twisted. We proceed.

The end of the ride is somewhere south. I lost track of places as soon as we get away from recognizable south. Anyhow, sounds like south! We retire on wooden benches after an attempt to ease inventory count by one fine bottle of wine. RacecarSultan just thinks it’s funny scoring one in our way to the toilet, I do magic and the bottle ends up in my bag. At the end the lost bottle returns to the righteous owners, no dismay, just laughs. I’m hyper with dance-mood increasing, where Sailorboy decides to take me home for private entertainment. We surf the city to the other side back home. My deep sleep’s followed by a 4 o’clock perfectly awake remorse shot. I toss and turn to my coma sleep.

Koninginnenacht

Kissa stays at home like a good girl.

The Night of the Queen should be on. That’s the night/day everyone dresses up in orange and party like crazy to celebrate the birthday of the Queen of the Netherlands. The Queen is born on the 31st of January, but they all party on the 30th of April, of course. It’s like me having my birthday on the 4th of December and celebrating it on the 4th of March.. no, actually that’s the wrong logic. It’s celebrated on that date as the former Queen was born on that date; it’s an act of honour for the former Queen and it’s also warmer and people can go out and party. So I should celebrate my birthday on the 8th of November, that’s my mom’s birthday. But it’s still not warm enough. I suppose I should celebrate it on the 14th of June, that’s my dad’s birthday, that’s much better!!

Anyhow, for the first time I’m living in Amsterdam, I was about to celebrate the big night in here. I remember 2 years ago, all the trouble to get in the Netherlands on time for the big day and party Geamy’s birthday altogether!! Then one year ago, all the partying in The Hague and now it’s on in here!! It should be fantastic!! It should be so great!! What am I going to do?!

I’m supposed to meet my Peruvian girlfriend in de Jordaan. That should be easy!! I live in de Jordaan!! Well, I’m only about 30 minutes late! That’s not that bad, right?! At least I have my Holland t-shirt on! Everyone in there’s in orange… a lot of my girlfriend’s friends, but seems like no Dutch. That’s a bit ironic! Celebrate this day with foreigners! In the most Dutch neighbourhood in Amsterdam! Well, after more drinks, I figured out there was still a Dutch girl amongst us.. talked about legislation and politics, then got back to more shouting and drinking, dancing and walking on the streets. Ended up in a big line at a club, just to figure out a girl was getting sick and needed to all get out of line and help her conquer the headache. By the end of it we lost our good spots, so we needed to back-party on the street. I suppose it was the same music, but didn’t last long, so we moved down to another bar. Another friend was basically lying on the pool table, while we were pouring in some more drinks, discussing music and taste.

We broke it off after too much partying on the streets and everywhere about, looking for toilets, talking too many other languages, drinking about every possible combinations of drinks, listening to too loud music, keeping up to all rhythms and getting too loud. It was a good girls’ night at Queen night!

My Friends are in Da House

Oh well, some they leave, some they come. The house is getting bigger. Gigi’s in the house on Friday. The history of her luggage made it around the world. That is – on her flight from Bucharest to Amsterdam, Gigi had a stop in Paris. The flight company just messed around with it. The luggage travelled to some other city or place around the world, while she was waiting at the gates.. Not only her family in Romania found about it, but her colleagues in the Netherlands, friends in Kuwait, colleagues of her from Eastern Europe, Egypt, Germany and even the sailorboy in Australia. Every one was asking every day if she recovered any panties or make up or something…

So I finally pick her up at the Spui. She has a big smile on her face and she’s dragging a big luggage. Oh, then let the celebration begin!! We have a girl’s talk night, catching up on half of our lives and looking forward to more talks ;) Next day, Piu is in da house! She’s coming from Belgium and looking confused to where’s da house and Gigi proves her sense of orientation, direction and other true manly senses while wearing make-up. Oh make us proud! Walked around the city a bit, did some shopping, pretty good girl fun, again!

So then it’s got to be girl’s talk and girl’s night all the way. We celebrate a housefly Valentine’s day with no men even calling. That should be a first…we attempted a normal Saturday, so poured some Yellow Tale in our glasses, listened to Costash’s trance mix and retired late tired from all that chatting.

We spend some good days doing almost nothing. From time to time, I need to go write a project or just do something for the uni and we’re also up to breaking Lia’s record on facebook on some country-language-flag-city-recognition competition. It’s weird how catch the damn game is! Piu eventually gets back to Belgium, enough girl time and days off for her. Me and Gigi hit the Ethiopian resto for some meal in a pancake. Lekker! This also ends the series of girl’s nights out and files it to classics.

Alex is in da house. Well, we always said we’re going to see each other. One day. One fine nice day in Amsterdam or in Buchi. The day has come. And he booked a long weekend. So the last night Gigi’s in and the first night Alex’s in, we’re in the pizza and drinks mood. We have opinions on everything – politics, drugs, partying, social care, real estate, friends and we spice it up with some gossip time. That’s right!

Back to the streets, we take a long walk around the city; it’s a cold sunny day, just perfect for surfing around the city. Beautiful day, Vondelpark looks shiny, I get to have a look at some bed shops, nothing fancy comes along. I spot some shop on the internet, we’ll need to go somewhere south, I suppose. We were almost lost, til we see the greatest Heineken logo ever.

It must be the Heineken museum. Troubled by nothing else better to do, we step in. We travel on the brewery line, back to the old process; we drink some shitty hot product before them putting alcohol in it and get to pretend we’re happily brewing as well. The big old machines look brace shiny. Alex gets bored waiting in the line to be made a beer and skips to tasting it.

I get a feel for people cropping me, getting me into a big shaker, putting water on me, leaving me there to get done, getting me through other processes and then throwing me into bottles, aligning the bottles in crates and then bringing me to a beach to make people happy. I was truly made a beer! Brilliant!! We’re then getting a training on how to taste the beer, I get to help with skimming – hey, lady, why do you ask me help with the skimming, do I look Romanian or something?! Damn bitch! Oh, no, I enjoyed doing it for beer, actually. Went on with the show, sang along Tulpen uit Aaaamsterdaaamm!! Took some other pictures and decided at our second beer, an xtra cold one, that this is the best museum ever. Alex was wondering if they give you a hoe at the sex museum to have a try on. No, they don’t. So we tried to develop the concept of give-aways at museums..

We chill home til we need to get to this party. Nadia’s getting us organized for ‘80’s verantwoordelijk at Hotel Arena. We kind of get it wrong and after asking several people, we finally get there. Nadia’s train gets on hold for 30 minutes. By the time she gets there, we’re sipping on our 2nd beer. I’m quite tired and feel like fainting a couple of times, but we keep it going. The music’s kind’a weird, definitely not my type, but the party’s fun. We meet some other colleagues and dance together, after 3 hours Alex discovers we’re in what used to be a church. Good one! I’m about to collapse, so we go home. Nadia’s sleeping over, we move Alex to his own airbed. This time, no significant deflation.
I can actually get some sleep, but not really, ‘cause we also wake up for breakfast and country discussions. Alex proudly comes up with a presentation on why no one could live without Romania. Nadia pulls up some fantastic presentation on Peru that she simply finds on google.. Amazing country! Just wonderful!! … ah! The taste of humiliation.. well, I get you need to get used to that if you were born in Romania. I mean to say – humiliated for having no decent tourism/marketing campaign for your own country, of course. Very embarrassing. We hush Nadia home and we’re debating country marketing. Alex is going for another city recognition tour, while me and Costash we’re having a pick-up from a colleague of mine. It’s a company cultural night. We’re going to see “Jij verlaat mij voor dat ik jou verlaat”. After 30 minutes of the man and the woman singing in German, I quit thinking they’re ever going to speak Dutch. So I’m enjoying the emotion, the funky costumes, the expressivity and the overall plot and couple in-and-out love-and-hata-and-again, while Costash is wondering when it will end. Well, other people liked it too, so it wasn’t that bad. We come back from Amsterdam North, me and my colleague, after dropping the homegirl. Go to Leidseplein to a live music bar and enjoy the drinks. I go on the street to make an Alex pick-up. Later on we pick up Nadia. The team’s complete. We stay some more over there til it’s time to dance. We hit the Heinekenplein to the Cantindero, the Latin place to be. That is crazy, but amazing. We shake it and grove it til it’s too late to party for that night.

Next day, my friends are no more in the house.

2 Birthdays and 2 Good-bye’s

I’m sad, he’s sad, so we need to keep on partying. That’s how you forget all about sailorboy leaving for the next 3 months - “it might be a year” kind of depressing period.. His Australian friend’s getting older and wiser, so we’re having a surprise party for him. Sailorboy thought of a lot of beer and tea – somehow seems a good present. So he says, let’s bike there. That means he’s going to bike there, I’m just playing beauty on the back of the bike. He tries to have the beers on the stand in front and decides after 50m it’s really a mad circus balancing the beers in front with the woman on the back while going fast 20minutes.. we take a taxi to my absolute content – it’s cold, man! The crowd at the party there is very exotic and I’m still wondering why he got a giant 50cm artificial key as a present from his buddies. We drink old Dutch gin and have beers after while chasing the cat and having another conversation why you don’t need to speak one word of Dutch while living in the Netherlands. That’s birthday 1.

While we’re starting a good weekend, we should end it up with another good party. That’s in Uitgeest. A small quiet place 30 minutes away from Amsterdam. Or 45minutes away, if you take the wrong train, the one I took. By then sailorboy got bored in the car waiting in front of the station and probably all the friends and relatives thought we were getting action on our way. This was first time of “meeting the family”, so I was nervous like hell. Blood was running to my head making me shy and in need to hold sailorboy’s hand and follow him so not to get in contact with strangers. After some drinks I relaxed ‘til I heroically shouted that I protest to having only 2 kingdoms. That was later that evening when we were playing some strategy team game, where my team got only disadvantages to begin with. God I hate losing.. even if it was a trip on foot to Rome!! For some kind of reason, the birthday boy was talking from time to time Russian with me, so I needed to sharpen my senses and somehow react.. didn’t work that well, so I gave it up. That’s birthday 2.

The good-bye day was almost there, so we decided to have a lunch as goodbye.. Sailorboy’s flight was supposed to be the day after in the morning, so no time for long good-bye’s. A quick lunch would do. So we went to the hotel next to my company, hold our hands. I felt miserable. And even more miserable when thinking I needed to go home to an empty half apartment. The thought of it was pumping up tears in my head. The design hotel is inexistent, the table is inexistent, the food is dry, my soul is empty. That’s good-bye 1.

The next morning I was supposed to wake up horribly early in the morning, get a taxi and get to Schiphol for the waving bye-bye. Just when I was about to order the cab, the phone rings. Sailorboy says he didn’t check the tickets. He’s leaving 12 hours later, that’s in the evening… wow! We get a good-bye night! It’s an unexpected sort of present. Like when you hope something terrible’s going to happen, just so he cannot leave any more. Well, at least we had one more fabulous night! That’s good-bye 2.

And then I waved… ta tar! Until we shall meet again…

Celebrating and more

Suppose you buy a house, you need to celebrate, right?! How often does it happen?! I hope often enough, I’m already in the mood for something bigger! LoL My banker says I need to keep it for at least 5 years for it to be profitable, he’s my guru, unless I win the lottery..

Day 1 – Private party with my sailorboy down in our crib. Wine, good music and swimming involved, no victims, but laughters.

Day 2 – Goodbye party at Van Puffelen bar-resto. Pretty coolish place, I (p)resume. No need for tears, no over-reacted animal dance, I leave early. Drinking and socializing done, no overalcoholic feelings noticed, studying needs to pop up later the evening.

Day 3 – Studying done at the uni and partying continued at Stefan’s place. We didn’t get to celebrate buying the house, so serious drinking needs to be spotted on the table. Good family times with a lemon twist.

Day 4 – You figured out the mix – house–person-house-person celebration. It logically needs to be fed up by bubble bath and champagne for my sailorboy. He’s taking off the corporate world, going Down Under to find what’s lost and new – new adventure for him, cake and drinks for me.

Day 5 – So follow the logic?! Yes, it’s something for the house – a new espresso machine. A red Francis Francis! And I go mad on it! Must be the best thing in the house! Well, ok, we’re going to score it all in one day – we’re up for some more delicious impressive stuff. So me and my sailorboy go figure out the sweet dark taste of food. It’s no screwed-up metaphor!! It’s really eating in the dark. Imagine the darkest black and no tiny light whatsoever. Imagine finding your food in that – it’s damn hard, I tell you! You’re putting wine on you, or water, you don’t find out til you tasted it, anyhow. You get too much of that chunky fish out of the sudden, while you can barely find one small potato in the plate you’re already thinking it’s like 15inch smth. You’re sniffing around like some dog while trying to decently use your fork and knife while chasing some peas.. the neighbour has given up eating, he smokes some cigarettes and decides that’s no fun. We giggle in the dark and mix up drinks and flavours. We go on mixing it in Paradiso. Mr. Oizo is on. The beats meet the master and Prodigy, Daft Punk, Madonna, Red Hot Chilli Peppers and most mad combinations you’d ever think of are smacking me up! The French non-duo is hitting it off like fire on water, I mean vodka on fire, I mean…. It’s insane! It’s madness! It’s mr. Oizo!!

Cocktail Workshop

Si veni si petrecerea de Carciun. Deci ca sa te invete sa bei ce-i bun si acasa, ne-am organizat intr-un workshop sa facem – un cocktail pentru doamne – un Cosmopolitan, un cocktail pentru domni – un nu-mai-stiu-ce, da cu whiskey si unu non-alcoolic pe care colegii mei l-au facut alcolic cu toate bauturile. Aia de-nvatasera mai bine si-au bagat mai multe la activ.

Hai sa mai practicam, mai facem unu, mai bagam o data, pe urma mergea mancarea mexicana de-i sareau guacamoala-n ea.. cred ca e unicul moment cand mi-am vazut toti colegii razand.. de obicei sunt unii mia razareti si unii mai putin.. sa uniste mutre acre, deci alcoolul destinde.

It’s My Party

Day zero. Right on, sister, let’s celebrate! I’ve always been starting celebrations before time! Well, at least around 12 o’clock a.m. 4th of December. It eventually gets to 3-day partying, but that’s normal.

Day 1. Snowing in Amsterdam for my b-day looks good! But then I need to get moving. See 2 houses for sale, not like them, buy cookies for my colleagues at work. Then announce them I’m not getting older, but wiser. Have a good time with colleagues at work.

Then move on to the uni. I come in and serve my cookies. All colleagues are there. Male voices tremble to the happy birthday song. Anna and Lydie give it up to balance male voices with theirs. Pretty cool! Partying needs to be done. We start softly with Boterwaag and few drinks with Anna Lydie and Stefan.

We go on partying on the normal The Hague route – well, Paap’s closing anyhow, so move on to Pijpelaa. We find other friends, dance the whole night on. Surprisingly enough, it all ends with a fat meal at 5 in the morning. Resting needs to be done.

Day 2. A good friend wakes me up, swearing follows. Don’t you know it was my birthday, you’re supposed to leave me alone thereafter! People need their rest! A recovery lounging session is expected, life’s beautiful (I need to think of my sms from sailorboy saying happy bday from Afrika). Screening houses for sale in front of the computer stays on top of 

the relaxing schedule.

I drag myself to Amsterdam to more drinking and small-partying with my housemate. It’s so good to be home!

Day 3. I act like a good housewife – do grocery, visit the beauty salon, cook some pasta, my friends are here – the Brussels ladies. More partying needs to be done! Catch up with our lives and have even more good times! Of course.

Day 4. I wake up in the morning, I need it!! – a little party for myself: I just surprised myself with the most wonderful gift I could get for this anniversary – helicopter flying lessons!!
I need to freeze my ass to Hilversum, go to some God-forbidden place next to the forest and then warm up in a bar full of old people. Then I can have my classes. First the theory, then practice. I’m flying with the most beautiful instructor I’ve ever seen. He says – look out for the plane, I go the other way. I can turn 360 degrees, this is soooo cool! I wish I was a fighter pilot! But in the meanwhile I can fly!

I loved my present, time to split to the girls – party on! More of the relaxed partying done, say good-bye, day’s over. No, it’s not. I get a surprising date at Melkweg. I see the sailorboy again, roll on the chemicals, the night is young and so are we!

It’s Party Time!

What are you going to wear?! Really?! Are you also wearing pants? I thought I’d be the only one wearing pants! :)
How about you? What do you mean you don’t know?! You don’t want to tell.. that’s different than if you don’t know..
***
Hey, at lunchtime we’re going to get costumes for tonight. In the neighbourhood, there’s this funky costumes shop. Kinky! Shopping perv stuff in your lunch time.. any day of the work week, honey!
***
Wanna, I have to ask you a favour. I’ll need you to put make up on me, later on today. You’re the make-up artist of the department. I think you’re the most experimented…
Well.. I say, anything to please a sister, true?!
***
We’re getting a limo to pick us up! Are you getting there by bus?! Good thing we arranged the limo in time, right?! Will you be changing your clothes in the lady’s room? Nooo.. I hope it doesn’t stink!
***
Ladies! I personally reserved the secretary’s room and stuck blanco’s on the glass windows so we’d have extra privacy and room to change. Are you getting your clothes changed in the office or are you going home? It’s such a hassle to go back, isn’t it?!
***
What is wrong with every one today? The buzz of the party got every one moving about.. I seriously doubt any one working in this building. Am I the only one to book a meeting room today?!
***
The German lady is here, the Dutch lady is here, another Dutch one joins.. the CFO pretending not to see us putting make-up on – stare to your feet, stare to your shoes, yes! Managed to pass them!
***
Faster, faster, need to get going! Arrgghh! Stupid earrings! They needed to get broken right now! Where am I getting pearls at this time of the night?! Man, the black gloves are making me sweat!! Girl, do I look good? Fine, thanks!
Ok, now I just need to get a taxi!
***
20 minutes of surfing the f#&king internet later, I was still looking for a taxi to get me there!! Retired to my room to yell. It’s better now. Ok, let’s get moving! Girl, help me get the damn taxi. We’re on the street. I feel like she’s the pimp and I’m the hustled. Not so difficult to get the cursed car afterall. Wave and smile!!
***
Are we supposed to use the highway to get there? The Russian taxi driver wants to be so incredibly fast. I got serenaded and complimented more than I was since I’m in the Netherlands, this should be a good night. Besides, he gave me way too much money back, felt like sharing costs. Spasiva anytime, my friend.
***
The sleazy tight gloves are making me madly thirsty. I tell you, I might as well be naked, if I have those gloves on, I’m still sweating. How do the queens do it so well?! They must be trained to wear gloves in Finnish saunas. They get an ice-cream as prize if they pass the test. No, they get whisky on rocks. Ah! I’ve made myself thirsty again. Where’s my drink?!
***
This is the best zoo I’ve seen before, with my most business-people colleagues I’ve known for months. Hopefully I’ll never know them better. How come they’re looking like pimps, whores, celebrities, dead people, aliens, rock stars, losers, financial advisors who missed their career, exotic diva’s and night birds. If you’re going to flap about the bar, just bring me a drink, will you, sweetheart?! Oh, no, we’re going upstairs, the party moved upstairs!!
***
It’s most entertaining to see all posh people around the tables after lining up for food, but I still see no drinks. By this time I was a wilted flower bird-of-praying on any one who’d have a drink in their hands. When the angels of light came to give us food for our souls. Actually, the waiters finally decided to serve some decent drinks. Laughed again and sipped on my dry white wine for the rest of the night.
***
Met some Italian whom I was brave enough to tell I really speak Italian. Boldly pretend I’m good at it for a rest of the while. Got intimidated, as he was actually taking me seriously. Who takes you seriously at a zoo and glitter party?! Needed to mingle.
***
Found some Dutch guys shocked on my Dutch. Must be language wonder night. I bet I can find some French or other language speakers, to expose my skills. Thought I’ve seen Alicia Keys, these drinks are good or a lot.
***
No-or-little-hair man with a blond-long-haired wig is catching attention at the keys while beauty queen voice still trying to make herself popular in the company’s band. Not bad, I think and shake my bun bun. I notice some people not just walk funny, they’re also a disgrace for the dance floor and some moves you need to remember. Or worse - never forget! That’s even unbearable when you’ll need to talk about processes and systems with a pink-feathered old boy. If I shake it more, will I stop thinking how embarrassing this thing’s going to look tomorrow?!
***
Man I couldn’t give a damn about looking posh, I’m taking off the annoying feverish gloves now! Life suddenly has a different meaning. All that air, all that freedom, the party can start!
***
My bus-colleague is there. I don’t only see him at work, also in the bus in the morning, once he touched my hair, couldn’t help it, so nicely to touch. What can I say, I’m irresistible. LoL. So shout about and tango around on some slow tune. So many people I know.
***
I mingle with my spontaneous Sales inductor. No that’s a person, not a machine. He’s actually the most spontaneous person I’ve met in an uptight business world. He must be lost and lonely in here. He must be gay anyhow, you just can’t behave like this at induction training – what are the poor inductees think?! That it’s an all-time laugh kind of thing?! I reckon they asked the rest of the trainers to sabotage him with their boring legal talks.
***
Oh yey! He’s interested in what I have to say AND he’s deaf! He must be the perfect man! It proves to be a tricky thing to get me in one of the other rooms. As I’m also deaf, we need to get kissingly close to talk to each others ear. Oh well, he’s going to take a long adventurous holiday anyhow, so who cares.
***
I should somehow stop drinking. I haven’t eaten almost anything and I’m just so tired, this could turn out badly. By this time, my feet are just screaming inside my 13cm-high-heal pumps. Most respectable. All the birds here – eat your heart out! Where did the inductor go?! I need to hold tight to something before I fall off.
***
How did my colleagues grouped up about and started being funny?! It must be the drinks.
***
I don’t want to go home, boys?! Are you all going home?! My colleagues look undecidedly boring and ready to receive support before they fall down with sleep fever. I need to keep it happening, all those strangers want me at their party, I might as well go.
***
Rode behind a true Amsterdam bike. Tried to keep hold of the inductor’s body. Or hand, both should be fine. Had the most romantic ride in years to my place.. to my place?! Weren’t we supposed to go on partying?! Young man here says he’s tired. How come he wants to see my lovely room then?! Going up and down my stairs is no after-party, mister! We call it off! Until we shall meet again, ta-ta!

Expat party la Scheveningen

Reporter: Deci, Oana, spune-mi ce-ai facut in weekend?
Oana: Care? Weekendul asta?
R: Da, asta care a trecut.
O: A, asta, asta... pai, vineri. Vineri am fost la serviciu, am facut niste rapoarte, am avut un meeting si am numarat orele, ca sa treaca timpul mai repede.
R: Vrei sa zici ca tu la serviciu numeri orele?
O: Pai da, ce sa fac? M-am gandit sa numar cafelele, ceaiurile si apa pe care o beau, plus de cate ori ma duc la toaleta. Da e prea greu, pierd numaratoarea prea repede. Plus, cateodata, ca sa pierzi si mai mult timp, mai poti sa faci pe amabilul, sa ii intrebi si pe colegi ce vor de baut. La vreo 4 cafele, atunci cum mai numeri?! Desi asta are dezavantajele ei, ca pe urma se ofera si ei.. si atunci tu cum mai pierzi timpu?! Mi-am dat seama, intr-o zi... poti sa te plimbi prin cladire.. l-am descoperit pe un coleg care se preface gen ca are meeting si se plimba prin cladire..

R: Dar sa revenim..
O: A, da. Pai deci pana la urma am ajuns acasa, m-am uitat la meci. Mda.. naspa, era sa mor de inima. Greu cu Romania.. poti sa crezi cami-a picat si la chipsuri o inima sfartecata de un cutzit?! Fanii Olandei sunt mult mai linistiti, relaxati, se uita la meci ca oamenii.. e normal sa ai life expectancy-ul mai mare... asta pe langa ca o duci mai bine, ca nivel de trai.
R: Nu inteleg ce legatura are cu ce ai facut tu in weekend.
O: Pai are, ca sa vezi ca a trebuit sa beau tot meciul, sa-mi treaca nervii.. ce poti sa faci altceva?! Cam cat sa urli si sa te agiti?!
R: Asa si pana la urma? Cum s-a incheiat vineri?
O: Cu o victorie a Olandei si urlete pe strazi, mare fericire.. iar eu m-am culcat, ca oricum eram varza.

R: Si asta ai facut tu tot weekendul?
O: Asta am facut vineri.
R: Bun, si in rest? Nimic spectacular? Noi ce le povestim la oamenii astia? Crezi ca ii doare undeva de life expectancy-ul la popoarele nordice? Baga si tu o telenovela ceva..
O: pai n-am ce telenovela sa bag. Sunt o fata seriosa, eu nu..
R: Daaa, siguuur!! Asta sa i-o zici lu Mutu!
O: Lasa, nu-mi zice tu ce sa-i zic lu Mutu! Ca am o gramada sa-i zic! Si de cum joaca fotbal si de cine l-a invatat sa joace fotbal si sa traga la 11metri si de toata familia lui – partea in viata, normal. Ca si bunica-sa nu degeaba s-a prapadit, saraca.
R: Deci pana la urma cum a ramas cu sambata?

O: A, asa. Ca ziceam de sambata. Pai Fane ne-a luat bilete la Expat party. El a plecat in Germania, deci nu a avut parte. Da eu si cu Lydie si Anna cu Deimientus am fost. Era misto. Codul de petrecere a fost white. Deci toata lumea sa se imbrace in white :) foarte tare, nu?!
R: Care-i faza?
O: Nu stiu, cred ca din cauza ca se organizeaza White Sensations in Olanda luna viitoare, da oricum, lumea arata bine in alb.
R: Da si care e faza? Te distrez mai bine?
O: Frate, nu stiu! Da in tot cazul se vedea tare de la neon. A fost la Scheveningen. Bineinteles ca am inghetat pe acolo pana sa intram... pana sa ne gatim eu si cu Lydie in alb si sa ajungem, Anna si cu prietenul deja se saturasera de asteptat.. da, in fine, asta e. Nu toata lumea poate sa ajunga la timp.
R: In special anumite persoane..
O: Ce vrei sa spui? Eu ajung tot timpul la timp!!
R : Hai ca iar ajungem la Mutu si te enervezi aiurea.. si pana la urma cum a fost?
O: Foarte tare, frate. Am dansat toata noaptea. Ne-am mai intalnit cu lume pe acolo.. foarte internationala. Si deci era un fel de grupshor care se tot labarta si ingusta, dupa componenta, plus oameni de toate felurile..
R: Barbati interesanti?
O: Mai multi cre mi-au spus ca ce par superb am. Un marocan care se dadea francez si tot imi spunea ca ma uraste (fotbal, evidemment), un olandez care ma arata cu degetul la toti prietenii lui, chipurile ca io-s cea mai frumoasa femeie din tot clubul. Si niste englezi englezi :) dar nimic serios, sa zicem.. dans..
R: Deci dans toata noaptea..
O: Da. Chiar toata noaptea, deci o petrecere reusita. Plus multa lume prietenoasa si ok. Si in alb! Cam asta.. am ras de dimineata. In sensul ca la 4 s-a terminat. Iar cand se termina, astia te dau afara, nu poti gen sa o arzi aiurea la bar sau asa..
R: pai de ce s-o mai arzi aiurea?
O: De exemplu ca ploua afara ca dracu si ca nu ai cum sa iesi ca te faci ciuciulete.
R: Si ce ati facut?
O: Ce era sa facem? Am iesit! Am iesit in ploaie.. era o ploaie cum e vara, rapaiala d-aia forte. Da numai ca la astia ploaia e rece. Si ne-a luat asa un frig.. parca eram niste caini plouati... da, na.. asta a fost.. am alergat pana la txi si am incercat sa rezistam..
R: Si pe urma?
O: Pe urma am ajuns acasa si am dormit mult.. iar duminica am incercat sa citesc ceva pentru business plan. Si am facut curat.. da…
R: Deci ai fost casnica.
O: Deci da :)
R: Mersi pentru interviu.
O: E ok, si alta data.

Bachelorette party

Whoohoo!! Anna, colega mea de mba, rusoaica a.k.a. Anja se marita!!
Drept urmare:
- Alla, una bucata rusoiaca cu talente lingvistice de olandeza si franceza, maritata deja cu un olandez si confundand engleza cu olandeza de cele mai multe ori,- Alla 2, una bucata rusoiaca 2, tacuta si firava, ca salcia-n vant, mai batraioara, da stie ea ce zice, maritata cu un australian si traita prin Germania si alte locatii,- Natasha, una bucata jumate rusoaica, jumate Latvia person, cu multe fitze si eu-vreau-asta, nu ce vreti voi, cu prieten olandez, pe cale sa se desparta, pe cale sa ne mutam noi doua impreuna, cu ochi albastri patrunzatori si fusta scurta obraznica si atitudine si mai si,
- Lina, una bucata lituanianca, muta si cu ochi pierduti, nu vorbeste engleza, doar rusa si olandeza, ce fel de persoana e asta? Habar n-am..,- Cristina, una bucata roscata lituanianca vesela si pusa pe shotii, cu miscari de Shakira si accent de la mama ei,
- Iurga, una bucata lituanianca 3, sociabila si dragutza, buna ca painea calda, ochelarista finutza, care se da cu pudra pe tot spatele si zambeste cand faci o gluma,- Lydie, una bucata congoleza belgianca, colorata si distractiva, o stiti din alte episoade, tot colega mea de mba,
- Si eu!! Dupa cum ma stiti..O pun de o petrecere in cinstea Anjei, personajul principal.Totul incepe la Holand Spoor, la gara, unde trebuie sa ne intalnim, toate in tricouri roz, chestii roz si coditze, ca niste Sandy Bell.. weee!! Iata ca ne intrunim si ne admiram, toate dragutzele si toata lumea se uita la noi, suntem staruri pentru o zi! Anja va fi intr-un tricou alb pe care scrie “Free until 05.07.08” :)Anja nu stie ce i se pregateste.. doar ca venim sa o luam de acasa si ca o sa petrecem in Amsterdam.. de altfel mergem cu masinile.. So, ne echipam cu baloane, pe ea cu tricoul, ne inarmam cu shampanie in masina si o pornim!! Nici macar primul stop si 3 tipi din alta masina deschid geamul la o conversatie pe shosea.. si asa o vom fi tinut-o toata ziua ;)

In Amsterdam este cea mai insorita si calduroasa zi din mai, excelent pentru dat cu trotineta. Dupa cum fusese organizat, am fost la lekker steppen: ik step, jij stept, wij steppen sau mai cunoscutul scoot-a-round amsterdam. Era foarte tare sa vezi oameni shokati pe strada care se holbau la 9 femei imbracate in roz cu coditze, la a 2° tinerete pe trotinete.. dar si mai tare a fost sa vezi tot cam atatia barbati pe motoare care ne-au depasit, iar atunci am fost un sir gen 10 barbati pe motoare urmati de 10 femei pe trotinete.. daaa ce-am ma nenee?! Era reactia tuturor! Funny!! Si cel mai tare ma distram cand intr-am intr-un tunel – Eram conduse de un ghid (culmea!) jumate romanca jumate olandeza care studia film si cu care m-am intretinut pe teme de Romania si alte distractii, care avea in spate un ghiozdan muzical. Boxe pe el si volum la distractie. Iar faza tare era cand intrai intr-un tunel era ca intr-un pahar, asa se auzea muzica in jur, si un strop de rotzi de la troti hihi.

Dupa ce am facut pe turistele prin Amsterdam, ne-am ingramadit intr-o toaleta de crashma sa ne schimbam de party. Am aruncat toate tricourile roz, tema era fuste cu topuri albe sau negre. In bar, un cor de englezi isi exersau cantecele, deci noi ne-am schimbat pe muzica de cor de la niste englezi dubiosi.. Probabil ca am aratat si mai dubioase cand lumea ne-a vazut iesind imbracate de bal.. whatever!Ne-am oprit in barul extra cold. Mai precis am inceput seara in “Some like it hot”, bar resto cu oameni f primitori, unde ne-am servit cina. Dupa care am intrat in frigider. Adica “Extra Cold Bar”, minus 5 grade, cocktailuri cu vodka in pahare de gheata. 

In jurul nostru, sculpturi de gheata si barman cu pufoaica. Noi am fost de asemenea prevazute cu geci groase si botoshi de iarna, manushi groase si muzica de buna dispozitie.. da tot n-am reusit sa rezistam decat vreo 20 de minute, cat sa stai in frigider?! Da oricum ne-am distrat cu paharele de gheatza, ca ne lipeam limbile de ele, cum faceam cand eram mici cu tzurtzuri de-i gasesti.. oare sa fi fost vodka de vina?! :)

Dar sa inceapa distractia!! Ne-am dus in clubul Escape, asta dupa stat la coada, conversat cu

 rushi la coada.. da ce se intampla?! Au fost olandezii inlocuiti de rushi? Toata noaptea am auzit numai rusa, daca ma mai intreaba cineva ceva, ii zic harasho sau spasiva, daca ma mut cu Natasha sigur invat si mai multe!! Apropo de Natasha, si-a rupt tocul in Escape.. nu stiu ce e cu petrecerile astea, dar femeile trebuie sa aiba tocuri puternice sau cel putin 2 randuri de pantofi la ele (indicat!).

Michelle are dreptate – muzica suna mai bine in Olanda.. in fine, incet incet o sa sune si in Romania, sunt convinsa.. da parca si cand nu e super dj e mai tare! Deci am

 dansat o gramadaaa! Anja a facut breakdance si alte dansuri la un moment dat si danseaza f misto, deci impreuna ne-am destrabalat cu stil!! Iar dimineatza in drum spre Haga, in mashina ne-au apucat converatiile inteligente, ca de obicei.. foarte tare frate!! Acum stiu ca vreau sa ma marit numa ca sa am party de-asta! Nu va ingramaditi!

Expat Party in Haga

Hai sa mergem si la Expat Party! Whoo hoo!! Lydie (my room mate, cum ne spunem noi) era mega extaziata, ca sa vezi ce-o sa fie.. Fane, pe de alta parte, zice ca este muzica execrabila si bauturile maga scumpe.. dar, haaaii!! Ca tresa fie frumos! Pe naiba! Cand am ajuns acolo, coada la intrare, de zici ca se bagase carne la Crevedia! Pardon, comparatia asta e veke k mamaia oricui, zici k era mega concert in Londra, mai lipseau englezoaicele in rochii de seara scurte, bete si drogate ca ranga. Mai bine?!

E, dupa ce ne vedem noi inauntru – adica eu si Fane, ca Lydie a trebuit sa plece brusc in Belgia a voir sa mere – o alta coada la garderoba. Da.. ceee!! Ce era aia de la intrare, mic copil, asta era balaurul luptandu-se cu Sf Gheorghe, Fat-Frumos si Greuceanu, altogether, dak intelegi ce vreau sa zic! Shi! Shi! Shi!! Ca sa reimprospatam memoria lui Mada si Geamy de aprige inju.. adica enervari inutile, coada la schimbat bani in fise!! Asta am vazut noi prima data la festival la Pinkpop (in Olanda), si ne-am suparat un pic, iar acum am avut ocazia sa ma distrez din nou cu schimbul valutar.. a! Mi-am adus aminte ca a fost si la noi la Bestival tot la fel. Pentru cine nu-si aminteste, fisele iti dau bautura, banii nu! Dar sa ne intoarcem la cozile noastre – ca sa nu pierdem timp, am stat unu la o coada si unu la alta si intr-un final, dupa cel putin juma de ora, am resit sa scap de geaca si de bani, ramanand cu fise. O fisa =2.20Eur si o bautura 2-3fise, deci scump ca dracu!

Chiar nu credeam ca poa’ sa fie asa multi straini in Haga.. foarte bizar! Mi se parea ca Amsterdamul este ala plin, dar poate ca acolo sunt mai mult turisti, iar aici mai multi inhabitants. In fine, rezulta ca erau peste o mie de oameni in clubul ala, noroc ca e mult mai incapator ca in Romania si ca nu e fum asa de mult.. the party sucked! Numai muzica din anii ’80 si miscari lente.. foarte obosita, frate!! Ee.. norocu’ meu ca am dat de lume cu care sa ma mai conversez un pic.. in mod deosebit un englez cosmopolit cum n-am mai intalnit, dar si cea mai distractiva mexicanca cu prietenii ei.. in 5 min, de cand am facut cunostinta pana cand am plecat de acolo (dimineata), au venit la ea nu-stiu-cati oameni vorbitori de spaniola, pe care ba ii stia, ba nu.. foarte superstar-like. Ea si prietenii ei latini.. ma apuc de spanioala!!

Iar de dimineta am baut o gura de cafea cu aroma de vanilie.. sfatul medicului – nu incercati nicidata!! Espresso rulz!!