Long live The Republic

Yet another entry about the Netherlands. I am aware that I talk a lot about the country I am currently forced to call my home, but for future reference it is rather essential that I share this information.

The Netherlands are a monarchy. However, compared to other (European) countries they are a very young monarchy of about 200 years old. Most monarchies date well back to the Middle Ages. Not Dutchland. Only during the Restauration of the Ancien Régime after the Napoleontic wars became Dutchland a kingdom. Which, in all fairness, probably was a good decision at the time. Today it is not, or I don't think it is.

In 2009, with 2010 approaching fast, I think it is rather undemocratic to have a head of state by birth. In a modern democracy, people should not be getting money, title or power on grounds of birth. In other words: time for modernisation. In the very least, the royal family should be stripped of all political power. Currently the Queen still chairs the government's most important advisory body: the Council of State. Being also head of said government, she actually advises herself, which I think is quite interesting.

In addition she has power in the formation process after general elections. It is the queen who appoints someone to form a new government. Usually that person is the leader of the winning party, however, theoretically, the choice is hers and she can appoint someone else. After having formed a government, this person usually becomes the Prime Minister. So in fact the Queen appoints the Prime Minister. I know that the English Queen does the same. However, in Britain the party getting the majority of the votes will govern. Alone. In the Netherlands there are a lot of parties in Parliament due to our proportional representative system. Consequently, the government is always a coalition of several parties. In that context I consider it problematic that someone who happens to be born into a certain family, decides who will become Prime Minister.

If someone is to appoint the Prime Minister (indirectly), let that at least be someone who carries the approval of the majority of the country’s citizens. In other words, an elected president. Usually in these discussions, monarchists start by explaining how expensive a president would be, illustrating their argument with the American model. However, we are not in America. We are in Europe. Where the United States have a presidential political system, in Europe we tend to have parliamentary systems which are quite different. A potential Dutch president would not have the power of an American one, but rather be more like the German president. Consequently, he would be cheaper.

He would definitely be cheaper than the Royal family. At the moment the royalties receive money from the government. Or actually from tax payers. For the Queen that is understandable. Rumour has it, even queens eat. She cannot work because being Queen is her job; it is normal procedure to pay someone for the work they do. What is not normal, is to award people benefits in addition to paid work. Ordinary citizens are only eligible for government benefits if they do not work. The Dutch crown prince and his wife both have well-paid jobs. In addition they get money from the government, not to mention substantial travel expenses. Professional and private ones. I don't think this is fair, especially not in times of global financial crisis. The latter seems an excellent opportunity to tell them government will no longer fund them as it will need the money for more constructive purposes. Besides power, claims to government funding should not be based on birth rights.

The Restauration is a long time ago and in 2010 I think it is time to either adopt what we call 'the Swedish model', basically meaning: cut the ribbons and shut up. Better still would be to get rid of the royalties altogether. It is undemocratic and the royal blood of the Dutch royal family is somewhat questionable. They descend from a minor line of a noble family, but by no means royal. The family's highest title was Prince of Orange. I doubt however whether they can still lay claim to Orange as it is part of France.

There was a time we were progressive in this country. Created in 1588, Dutchland may well have been the first country in the world to become a Republic after having been part of the Spanish Empire. Perhaps that is something to be proud of and to cherish. So what about a new Restauration? Wouldn't it be wonderful one day to pay tribute to the Republic by restoring it 500 years after its first establishment? The year 2088 would see the establishment of the Republic of the Twelve United Netherlands, headed by a president we call Stadholder. For old time's sake. Unlike the Stadholders of old he will be elected though. For new time's and democracy's sake.

When the Golden Age is over...

For a number of years now I have been wondering what it is with Dutchland as Katie's boyfriend refers to the Netherlands. As becomes rather obvious when looking at a map, it is a very small country. And yet, it goes out of its way to not be like other small countries, such as Belgium, Luxembourg or Switzerland for example. Perhaps it has to do with Dutchland's past.

Due to a large navy and commercial fleet, it could once compete with Britain at sea. It has a colonial past and although currently being a monarchy it used to be a Republic. Arguably the first Republic the world has ever known. Somehow, I sometimes wonder whether Britain taking over the seas and France invading in the 17th century has not been clear enough a message about the end of the Dutch Golden Age.

End 2009 we still do our best to make sure we count and are taken seriously. In Europe, in the world. We leap at the opportunity to participate in G20 meetings and of course do we help the United States in Afghanistan. Whilst right-wing politicians want to make us believe immigrants cost a lot of money, no one mentions what the army costs. And the Dutch army costs a lot as it apparently needs the newest and best destructive toys (produced in America, incidently).

I am aware that weapons are not for free, but to me there seems to be something wrong when there is money available for the newsest material and most advanced technologies, when at the same time elderly people in homes do not get dressed every day due to shortages in staff. The government wants children to be more physically active to fight against people becoming overweight, but if a school wants a playground, it can get tiles, no more. But if the ministry of defence wants new aeroplanes, it has practically placed the order before Parliament has even agreed and negotiations with a Swedish company are reduced to formality rather than a comparative investigation.

I don't think firing all our soldiers and selling their toys is the solution to all our problems. However...perhaps a European army would come cheaper in the end as the costs will be borne by more people and more countries. Perhaps at home we can spend some more on health care, education and police service.

Virtual sweets are a dodgy business

Internet is a scary place. Scary things happen online. You don't know who you run into or who runs into you for that matter. Things get even scarier when you find yourself sucked into networking sites like Facebook, or Linkedin or any of their national equivalents. Started off as a wonderful way to keep in touch with people, they seem to have become a popularity measuring tool (the more friends the more popular) and way to keep an eye on people. What they're doing, where they're doing it and with whom. Everything we want to know and everything we want to share. Apparently.

Now, as long as friends want to know what goes on in your life, that's fine. Genuine, or perhaps not so genuine interest in people one knows. But what about companies wanting to know everything. That's when things get really scary. Rumour has it, applications on websites like Facebook have access to your details. They can see who your friends are, what your email address is, what you look like and possibly even what you had for dinner. The question is what they do with that information. After all, we all know that knowledge is power. This is quite worrisome. Still, as long as we don't actually know, it doesn't hurt.

It does hurt when we do know. When suddenly we are contacted by some unknown in a far-away country about a business deal. That's right. I received an email from someone like that. And yes, of course, I'm thrilled to find out someone has read this weblog (presumably) even though I actually keep it as an online diary. For me. As it is on the internet however, it is open for everyone to see. But it is not a free card for everyone to send me emails because it scares me. I am a little girl on her own who is very suspicious about people she doesn't know and therefore sticks to what her mother used to tell her: do not go with strangers and do not accept sweets. Never.

In the adult world this works out as: do not accept financial beneficial offers from people you do not know. And definately not online. You never know who might be at the other end typing away. I mean you cannot even see them. In the street at least you know it's the unshaven guy in the long trenchcoat with the dark glasses and slick hair you want to watch out for. Online, there is no way of knowing...

Kabouterland

Kabouterland. Dutch word that you will not find in dictionaries. Consists of two separate nouns: kabouter and land. For the translation, we'll start with the easiest: land. Means country. No surprises there. Then the second. Kabouter. Means gnome. They inhabit a place called Gnomeland or Kabouterland where all is good, life is simple and where there are no events of major importance. In Kabouterland there are no wars - kabouters do not fight -, they have no money so no mean kabouter-bankers or financial crises either, they are extremely conservative and will do anything to keep life the way it always has been. Generally, kabouters worry very little, because there is nothing to worry about. Consequently they talk about things we humans would consider trivial, which is probably not that surprising given the fact that they are very small and therefore bound to operate on a rather small scale.

Arguably, the same small-scale type of discussions sometimes occur in small countries. Like Dutchland, dubbed Kabouterland by my grandfather from time to time due to trivial discussions held in Parliament or other nit-picking on the part of national institutions. For example, a recently held discussion in the Dutch national parliament on the impact of the transport of plastic water bottles on the environment. Although this is bad, it has been worse. Two years ago Parliament felt the the need to step in when one of the TV channels decided to pull the plug on the longest running gameshow in the country.

When Holland's most famous couple broke up, it was an item on the eight o'clock news. The Prime Minister even commented on this tragic event. Has he no other things to worry about I wonder? Of course, it is very sad when two people end their relationship but honestly, there are people being killed, tortured and exploited on this planet. We're in a global recession, at war in Afghanistan and the climate is changing. Prime ministers are elected to run the country and consequently to cooperate with other leaders to help addressing international crises. I doubt worrying about the get-togethers, break-ups and back-stabbing in the national world of glitter and glamour are part of the job description.

As much as I am disgusted about the Kabouterlandesque features of this country, I am also quite surprised we still expect to be taken seriously internationally. Despite its size, Dutchland is trying very hard to be considered and pretends to be relatively important in the international arena. In Europe, the Dutch wag their Calvinistic finger at France and Germany whenever given the chance. Usually it's about money. Despite the fact that Dutchland is very small, we apparently feel we can preach moralistically to our big European brothers. Meanwhile, the politicians in The Hague are dancing with joy whenever the G20 Summit invitation arrives - it's almost as if we count! - and the Ministry of Defence is showing off its high-quality material in Afghanistan and Iraq. It is said the Canadians and Australians are green with jealousy and only dreaming of getting the newest and the best destructive toys to play with.

At the same time, we have a Prime Minister commenting on a break-up of two people who happen to be known and a national Parliament discussing a crisis in Sesame street and plastic water bottles. How do we expect to be taken seriously outside if these things happen inside? I doubt Mrs. Merkel involves herself in a glitter-break-up. I don't think President Obama spends time thinking about Sesame street. And I'm quite sure Sarkozy does not mention plastic water bottles in his speeches. In Dutchland, these are matters of national importance. Kabouterland. Still, we don't have a president who sleeps during a memorial service at the occasion of the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall and has affairs with eighteen-year-olds.

From hell with luck

Three weeks down the line, I have finally arrived at Go. After a rather difficult journey and a very nice holiday in France. And a journey from hell it was. I didn't quite check, but it's possible I have carried around my own bodyweight with me (I should mention I am not very heavy but still) and looked like a tramp.

As I had to take everything with me that was left in my room, including a duvet and pillow, I had to take both my backpack and a small suitcase. By the time everything was packed both were on the point of exploding. On top of this I carried around a big laptop bag containing several books and other papery stuff plus my laptop. Add to this a plastic bag with food, a small handbag and some posters. I was wearing all clothing that wouldn't fit into my luggage anymore. My flatmate Myint ran into me as I was leaving and felt so sorry for me, she took me to the tube station where she worringly gave me all the things she had been carrying whilst double and triple checking whether I would be fine. Off to Gatwick Airport it was, with all my luggage and wearing a jumper, a big cardigan, and two coats.

The tube was fine, not many people around at 11 pm, the train to Gatwick at 12:30 however was somewhat more challenging. I have to admit my fellow passengers looked at me with something between mild curiosity and sceptism, whilst I tried to pretend this was completely normal. The advantage of travelling around like this, is that people start worrying about you and want to help you. Until the check-in desk that is. The Easyjet employees at check-in have been instructed to be merciless. They have been told to charge for every gram exceeding the weight limits unless those grams, or in my case kilos, are on your person. Although I am sure they will implement new rules for that too. But to date, the only limit to personal weight is the size of the seat.

There I was with my luggage exceeding the weight limits by eight kilo. Cheap as the tickets come, that expensive are the extras with 10 pounds per kilo overweight. However, as it happened, luck turned out to be on my side. To the question whether I wanted to pay by card or cash, I handed over my bankcard, which was refused by the system. There was no choice but to go and get cash. The girl at check-in was friendly enough and said I could come to her straight away and wouldn't need to queue again. Well rid of my hold luggage, I went to the cash machine, got the eighty quid and went back to the check-in desk that had meanwhile been stormed by a group of young boys and their youth workers.

Having worked in hotels, I know that groups, especially of children or teenagers, can be quite challenging. They're all over the place and usually don't know who they're sharing what with. Apparently, the same goes for flights. The girl at check-in was either just starting or very insecure, or both. In any case, she was profoundly confused at this point. So I waited until she'd finish. Time passed, I waited, the boys waited, whilst she mildly panicked and had her colleagues assist her.

Now, if you're a low-cost airline trying to get as much profit as possible, there are several ways to go about the business. Number 1: charge for everything. Rumour has it, Ryan Air now charges for toilet use. O yes. Very soon, you will have to pay extra if you want a life jacket in case of emergency. Number 2: be efficient. Very efficient. No tickets, and one big check-in desk for all destinations. So imagine, 6 am, an immense queue, screaming kids and lots of suitcases. There usually is a host trying to manage all this, whilst looking which check-in desk is free.

Out of the corner of his eye, the host on duty spotted me standing beside the queue, waiting. That is strange and needs to be investigated. Could he help me at all? "Yes, I need to pay and am waiting for my boarding pass that your colleague over there has made ready for me." Helpful as this guy was, he went to his colleague, exchanged a few words, came back and handed me my boarding pass. To say I was flabbergasted, is an understatement. Apparently, he completely missed the sheer surprise and bemusement on my face and went back to his duties of managing the group of young boys. Still recovering, I thought...go...go...just walk away now, before they remember the dosh, just quietly creep away, don't smile, definately don't laugh and pray you're not stopped at a later point.

The challenge didn't end there though. Easyjet has a new rule. Every passenger is allowed one piece of hand luggage. And yes, if you have more, you will be charged at the gate because Easyjet is a low-cost airline trying to make as much profit as possible. However much I would love to write to them about this latest attempt to make more money (I think they are potentially harming the economy of the local airport, I mean, what's the point of tax-free shopping if you're not allowed any more hand-luggage?), I had other things on my mind at this particular time. Being how to make three pieces of hand luggage into one if everything's full. Obviously, one can go to the nearest shop and ask for the biggest bag they have, put everything in there and happily potter off to the gate (second reason why the hand-luggage rule is absurd). Instead, I decided to stuff the pockets of the second coat I had with me, to eat all the food left and try to hide the handbag. With success.

The final hurdle to take came upon arrival at Lyon Airport. Lyon Airport is under construction. The French have decided to build a brand new, very fancy airport near the capital of Provence. Although I am sure it will be very nice once it's finished, at the moment, the custom officers are sat in a tent and so is the luggage belt. There was one poor bloke checking everyone's passport and naturally, I was the last one in line. My parents waiting at the other end thought I had missed my flight. Showing this person my ID card was not a problem, getting all my luggage together and hoisting it on me was. As things litterally fell off, I was close to tears whilst telling myself, out of the door, that's all. Then you can drop everything. Needless to say, this was exactly what happened.