Keys drop into windmill

We are going out

Almost a day too exciting for review it was yesterday.

I had planned to go out to Zaanse Schans, a museum park of old Dutch industrial and handicraft process with windmills and all with a colleague on Sunday.

Late, the day before he had called to invite a guest of his on the tourist jaunt, which was fine with me.

So, putting all plans in place, I did a few Internet searches and found that one of the websites related to the place had been hijacked; probably by some disgruntled visitor who might have had his goolies [Source - Urban Dictionary: goolies] milled at one of those windmills.

Considering one milling stone could be a good 3,000 kilograms [Source Information – de Kat windmill – YouTube video], one would definitely have nothing left to talk of apart from having a vengeance spirit with a grievance.

Printing impossible

One other thing I found so irksome about the website was that it had a very good visual presentation with the ability to scroll down the pages but print-outs were restricted to only what you could view on screen – a complaint as already been sent out to the designer.

I had to copy the text on the page and paste in Microsoft Word to get a full printout of what I was planning on doing.

The plans also included being picked up at noon on Sunday, so I charted the course to the place and printed the route out from my place to Zaanse Schanns on http://lokatienet.nl

Batting battered batteries

Such occasions need pictures, a quick check on my camera indicated one had to get batteries, so I picked up the rubbish, the keys to my bicycle which I had not ridden for months, my wallet, my phone and a bicycle pump – just in case.

Jammed the door and as I called the elevator, my neighbours were also ready for a day out.

After getting the batteries, I returned home only to realise that I had left my keys in my apartment – my neighbours were far gone, my other neighbour is rarely in and my cleaner was getting darker still in Senegal.

As there were already plans for the day, the next thing was to get another cane, for there was going to be a bit of walking, I also phoned my colleague to get all the information I had already prepared but left on the ironing board then made out on my bicycle to get a cane.

Opened for canes

The Gentleman’s Hatter was still closed but the shutters up; not sign of the shopkeeper but a recruiting advertisement on the window had a phone number I could call.

Thankfully, the shopkeeper was in, and he let me in to get a cane and handkerchiefs before I made it for the new rendezvous at my colleague’s place in the West of Amsterdam.

The day itself

Eventually, we got moving and arrived just in time to have pancakes, get on a boat tour and visit a windmill – a beautiful day was had by all which ended with dinner at another friend’s.

It was not till just after 9:30PM that I heard from my neighbour’s who were ready to let me in whenever I got back.

When I finally got back at 10:34PM, I opened the door, gave the keys back and wondered about replacing the lock such that I would require a key to lock the door.

This happened to me once before about 7 years ago when I just moved in, then, no one had my spare keys, for a push and tug with a hard plastic sheet, I parted with NLG 175 to have my door opened.

Nice job, if you can it get, but I could do with a lot less stress or learn to walk through solid doors.

Thumbnails of the day out at Zaanse Schans are linked to from here.

The underbelly of living in Gran Canaria

Between holiday and life

For many of us who holiday in the sun and after the holiday dream of moving to those climes away from the dreadful weather of our humble abodes, we have to temper our fantasies with reality.

Many have moved to Gran Canaria, first for the weather and then for a seemingly sedentary life, it is anything but sedentary.

I have seen businesses all around the place that look like the owners are just getting by, the Paradise is lost in the struggle to eke out a living; tourists are not necessarily fair game, if you think about it.

Young people come to the island but are at the mercy of employers who work the system and take advantage of them with rotten contracts and threats of being kicked out for even cheaper staff.

One thing you cannot expect of cheap staff is good service except if they have a naturally friendly disposition.

From servile to service

When I stayed at Riu Papayas over Christmas which for all intents of classification is a 4* hotel, the service and staff were no where in the class of those in the sister Riu Palace Maspalomas where I first stayed in September.

The care and attention to the detail of comfort and satisfaction is beyond compare, one thing these people are good at is making you at ease and addressing every single issue you raise with professional and personalised attention.

It would appear many aspire to work at the Riu Palace or Riu Grand Palace brand of hotels, regardless of the pay, the people feel part of the system that compels you to return again and again.

Dilemma of the young and old

I overheard a conversation yesterday where a young man had a generally comfortable contract to do a show a few times a week for a nightly fee. It would appear employer likes his activities that he has asked the young man to do more shows but instead of an improved nightly fee, he is to be put on a fixed hourly rate.

On the one hand, he would have a stable income but it does not mean that he would be well off compared to if he retained the basic nightly pay-per-appearance fee. The young blonde head was in a dilemma, but these are some of the stark realities people face in the heat of the sun.

Just up the road, Dino's Trattoria, a bistro which looks like a tents and canopies on a balcony (definitely not built for the rain), I sometimes wonder if that was really his idea of coming out here, but he does have patronage and he probably does take occasional breaks in the sun, sitting beside his bistro.

Catching the dream through adversity

Then, the other day, I visited the bar that offers free WiFi connections and realised the ever so friendly chap whose friendliness and dynamism had him running the bar alone during the day was not in.

There are new faces, younger bodies and really not too excited people; a few days later, I saw the friendly chap, he was dressed as a tour director, I did not get to speak to him but thought to myself, people can have dreams and they can come true.

When I finally chatted to him this morning, I realised there was nothing like adversity to help you take those difficult steps to success – his boss in the ploy to hire cheaper, younger staff accused him of pilfering from the till; he left that employment but also decided to take the employer to court for trying to ruin him.

In the meantime, he got a job as a tour director with his own car and as he spoke to me, he radiated with confidence and assuredness that this was always what he wanted to do – it was his happiest and most fulfilling job.

I could only be glad for him, encourage him and congratulate him patting him on the back and telling him to live his dream to the full – the ex-employer might learn a tough lesson – not every young man can be taken for a fool, they also have rights and can seek legal redress for wrongs.

Living in Gran Canaria

It is possible that the case would embolden many others who no doubt have been wronged and have employers think twice before they play tyrant.

Holiday in Gran Canaria is one thing, living and working here is a completely different story, like James Brown said in Living in America, even in Gran Canaria someone somewhere along the way would find out who they are.

Gosh! I'm in London again

London incognito

My sojourn to London this time is somewhat impromptu and unannounced; even though one had opportunity to announce long before time, spontaneity depending on scheduling and time allowing might just bring me in contact to the realists of my blog world.

Air travel never ceases to amaze, I have been through a time of flying as a kid, getting irrationally scared of air travel to the extent that I forsook my plane at the air for a 7-hour train journey to a point where I can better manage my anxiety, it does not bother me that much anymore.

I'm like a bird

However, when I think of the daring, genius and tenacity that made men put big metal vehicles in the air, take advantage of the air to traverse places and use the same to stop the aircraft, I am just too impressed for words.

Generally, I belong to the jet engine generation; there is no way you will get me to get in a turbo-prop even if I had to escape the savages of King Solomon's Mines, well, it might get me thinking.

But one thing I have noticed about Amsterdam Schiphol Airport is whilst it can be friendly to the elderly, handicapped or parents with young children, in that they can order a concourse vehicle to cart them around the airport, those with canes find that the elevators do not go to the connecting floors and we are not called forward to board flights first.

John Steed, I'm not.

I once had one long cane with a ivory ball for the handle, then acquired another which is quite versatile because I can take it apart - 4 bits that go into the customs check system - mercifully and thankfully, I do not have to take off my shoes.

It makes the cane easy to pack into my bag. So, when we landed at Heathrow and taxied around the runways till we all thought we were lost for 15 minutes we came to a standstill, when usually the impatient cannot wait for the seat-belt sign to go off before they open overhead bins and spill the contents on the sitting party.

I finally got my bag, took out the 4 pieces of cane and proceeded to put them together when another passenger surmised, good weapon - I had to remonstrate vehemently, it is my cane, nobody carries weapons onto planes and please do not get me into deep serious trouble.

Some people have been watching too much monochrome Avengers, that is not helped that I also wear a hat, this time, not my bowler hat, though.

Sign for me properly

Then, the beauty of reading English properly written - Please have your passports ready for inspection as opposed to the literal translation in Schiphol which reads Please keep your passport ready - it narks me off when these foreigners cannot avail themselves of native speakers such that I do not have to be welcomed in London.

I got to my hotel which is beside the British Library, one should walk in and have a look, and much has been said about the architecture and more.

Stranger in my room

Just as I settled in my room, I had a shower, dried off and wist not that I was unclothed because I was covered with glory when my door opened.

Stranger: Oh!

Moi: What are you doing in my room?

Stranger: Reception, gave me this room.

Moi: Well as you can see, it is not your room, it is mine, this is outrageous.

Stranger tries to divert my vitriol to blame the reception for a sloppy job, I am having none of it.

Moi: Please close the door now; make sure you are not sent back here.

Stranger, scolded and angry walks away closing the door rather than slamming it, well, that would have been the end of him as he would have been defenestrated.

Why did I go for the stranger, well, I wanted to make sure he doubly expressed his displeasure at the reception, such that they do not mess it up again?

20 minutes later, my television goes off and a name; not mine appears on the screen, my second call to reception would not hear of the excuses that the system is down, I am having none of this nonsense in a 4-star hotel, it just does no augur well for my custom and their brand.

When I show my face at reception, well, maybe, it is best to leave out the tip when checking out.

What would we do without computer systems, what makes us thorough and meticulous has been lost that excuses suffice for unforgivable simple mistakes - not good, not good at all.

To London to see the Queen

Hand me the lipstick – Now!

Indeed, my blog has been deafeningly silent, I have been in London and this is my last day before I leave for Amsterdam en route Brussels – by train.

Well, now, they have really banned cosmetic through Heathrow, many who got away with rouge and mascara would have to consider something permanent – Botox, face lift, whatever keeps that look young, sexy and less affected by the strain of negotiating airport security.

The war on terror is now terrifyingly real amongst us and the terrorists only have to think up the next ploy to get us into a tizzy. Now, 11 of the suspects have been charged, it is shame that their attack being so imminent, the evidence is still far from being gathered enough to expect a trial for another 12 to 18 months.

Six nights of 60 hours and still not done

My Oyster card has been screaming at me for the last 2 days that it is about to expire; fine, but really, I do not intend to spend another day in London, I have spent 6 nights and if I may say, tourists do end up spending 6 nights in London.

However, coming from a continental European country where standard of living is higher and the cost of living is considerably lower, I do wonder how they get people to pay the prices I see about the place – it is atrocious to say the least – even with the doubling of prices after the introduction of the Euro, we have a cheaper existence than what Londoners have to put up with.

My 6 night sojourn has been an eye-opener if not experience, I only informed 8 people I was visiting and managed to meet just 6, even in those cases I was pressed for time and opportunity – if I had informed a handful more I would have been stressed beyond the limit in trying to satisfy the needs of meeting, visiting, seeing and staying.

This is only with 6 years away from London, imagine 16 years away from Nigeria and that would be a logistic nightmare requiring an updated version of management software from NASA expeditions – I am definitely not yet looking forward to that prospect.

Left driving for the right side

Many times I get into the argument about whether driving on the left is right or driving on the right in Europe is wrong or less popular around the world.

A good few countries drive on the left, including India, Australia, Canada and Indonesia. Some have switched sides as you will see from the link.

Imagine my consternation to the subconscious predilection to the right-side driving ideal when I find that I am on the wrong side of the road waiting for a bus or I notice that the driver is to my right when I get into a car.

Worse still, sitting in front, my eyes and head are in conflict as I expect to see cars going in one direction and they are not, this especially at turnings.

Then we got on the bus and I can claim priority seating on public transport because I do use a cane; I must note that London is a bit more tolerant compared to our Amsterdam when people with assisted mobility embark.

Do sit in my seat

Twice, at least, I was offered a seat on the tube, but when we got on a bus, a “lady” with more plastic bags than a Sainsbury’s counter got on and simply barked my friend off his seat beside me demanding to sit down.

At first we thought he had occupied reserved seats, but that was not the case, as the woman murmured without respite letting ladies have seats on buses, but she was no lady, not even if I stretched my imagination.

When we got to the last stop, she got off and started rummaging through the rubbish bins – that was our brush with the Mental Health – Care in the Community programme – if the medication does help bring good manners to the fore, she must have skipped her required dosage, where I could have had compassion, I had anger, disdain and disgust – I am only human.

Some have even suffered worse fates from those encounters, we only suffered a rude situation, and we can live with that.

Exciting Kitchen rage

On the Friday, we went up to a Nigerian Restaurant on Kinsland Road near Dalston in East London and we had the pepper soup and suya for entrées then as they had no okra soup we plumbed for the spinach and red stew.

This was the second time I felt like asking for an apron to invade the kitchen and teach a few ideas about cooking Nigerian stew – not only was it greasy and unpalatable, it completely put us off we could hardly try the beef in the stew.

The waitress then suggested a doggie-bag and in an unguarded response I rebuffed with the comment that my dogs would refuse the meal. Well, that was the truth, only it was not expressed in the finesse of tone, context and delivery.

I apologised, but I do hope that the message was clear that if another visit to that place records a failing of the sort we have once endured; my review of the place would be less appreciative than this one.

A changing London

All the area around London Bridge has changed considerably in 6 years from the City Hall and interesting performances in the bowl beside the building and those anti-skateboard knobs on the concrete platforms all down to Tate Modern, the Millennium Bridge and the London Eye.

I cried off the London Eye, the queues were as long as burger-gluttons lining up for a fat expensive burger at Hard Rock cafe or was it Planet Hollywood. The VIP express – jump-the-queue tickets were not only twice as expensive, the queue did not seem to be moving any faster either.

The view from the London Eye is not exactly a view to die for, having looked from the 7^th floor of Tate Modern did not show an amazing skyline rivaling New York, I can safely give that a miss for now.

London again?

Would it be another 6 years before I return? Probably … I cannot say I am that enamoured about London per se.

However, catching up with friends and family and seeing how so grown up those little kids have become is testament to the fact that time does fly and the accumulation of passing time adds up to what makes everyone exclaim – Has it really been that long ago since you were here? Well, yes, it has.

Is this London?

I’m leaving on the slow train

With the new developments in the mind games that have been the real war on terror, travelling by air to London is completely out of the question. If you have to arrive at the airport a day before you depart and might only be able to have your hair shirt as hand luggage, why bother?

The other alternatives are road, sea and train – I took the latter which involves travel through Brussels and then the Eurostar from Brussels to London, at least you can carry whatever you want before some nut thinks that is another little scare in the making.

All signs lead nowhere

So, I arrived in London this afternoon and missed something I usually see in stations in Berlin and Paris, good signs for locations above ground and local maps on advertisement type billboards. Nothing of the sort, I need to get my A-to-Z out to find my bearings, hopefully, the street names appear where they should.

Before I surfaced, I had to get a London Underground travelcard (it used to be mainly paper-based with a magnetic strip – shows how long I’ve been away from London), it is now known as the Oyster card – a nondescript credit card sized plastic thingy that does not show any obvious sign that it is a 7-day travelcard for all zones.

Then to the hotel where I should had a deal that extended my entire stay, but with two days left, the cost is too outrageous to contemplate – this city is not paved in gold but they pay diamond prices for things that glitter like dark wood.

The spectre of crimes recent

So, I had a rather long walk to one of my old haunts and could not help but notice two crime scene notices seeking information for events that happened in the last few weeks. One victim was shot and another looked like a racial attack by a mob, all within a 5-minute stroll. Makes me weary of what is happening in London.

Then, somehow I ended up at Elephant and Castle; I remember my cousin once saying important landmarks in London are named after places in the biggest city in Nigeria – Ibadan. He gave a few examples like – Ìtá aperin (translates as the Elephant Square or Elephant and castle in this case), then Eléyelé (translates as the pigeon’s keeper or Trafalgar Square, if you like).

The maze of castle with no elephants

Anyway, I had to get a bus to my hotel, the signs indicated I need to look for bus stop C which was on the other end of that area, I got there and found that the maps did not correlate with the realities I could see, having traversed tunnels till my orientation is as bad as compass doing 10 revolutions per second, I threw up my hands in absolute despair and incredulity that anyone could make sense of those location maps.

A lady who seemed to know what my frustration was and the nonsense that masquerades as help for tourists and non-locals alike then gave directions which had me walking off in another direction, then finally I found the stop, only to see the that location map at the stop should have been the same all through.

It is strange because the map of the London Underground is considered a work of art, a masterpiece of engineering drawing and it is the standard by which other city maps are drawn; that these ideas have not converted to locations maps for bus stops is unfortunate.

London after six years of absence – not too sure – I give my views in a week.