Learning, learning and more learning

Lately I haven't blogged a lot. Why? Well, I've been learning. And that takes time. Apparently. In preparation of my new job, I have been offered an intensive five week training; Culture and Development, Capacity Building (see the trainer's account here) and Teaching Skills have already been finalized. Now it's just a safety training, facilitation and communication on my to-do list for September and October.

Well, I must admit: it hasn't been easy, all that learning. It's been a while since I'd been in school and my last course was in November last year (Planning, Monitoring and Evaluation in Nepal with CRSC, which was great!), so it took a while to get back in shape. It made me think about how it is that I learn (a question I have also asked myself lately in the context of speaking French and dancing salsa). What is a good learning environment for me? Which is the right challenge? And for my work, the question is how people in an organization learn and how they can transfer their knowledge.

One thing I encountered while learning was resistance. From within, deep deep within. Not so much a resistance to learning in itself, but resistance to failing. It was pure fear, fear of failure. Because failing is not fun. I want things to be right from the get go. And that never (or hardly ever) happens. You should burn your fingers first a few times. That I also found when I tried out snowboarding for the first time this February. How frustrating to not even be able to get up by myself! But after fifteen minutes of ranting and telling myself: "You can do this!", I was standing on the board and sliding down the slope. For just a few meters, but the beginning was there. And THAT is how we learn. To dare and fail. And to dare again. As Tim Ferris says: "Smash fear, learn anything".

Together again

It was the first time in my life as an Amsterdammer. I was flabbergasted. When I arrived at Central Station, it was gone. I looked, and looked. Someone even came to help me ("look for a green lock", I told him). But no, my bike was definitely gone. In all my years as a happy biker I had never parked my bike in such a way that 'they' could take it. 'They' are the milieupolitie or environment police. Well, now I had and they did. I was not supposed to leave by bike designated especially for 'bakfietsen' or carrier cycles: bikes with a big box on it to carry groceries or kids. It's mostly working moms that own bikes like that. And yes, they have parking space especially allocated for them.

As I learned from their great radio commercial [Person A says: "oh no, my bike is gone!". Person B replies:"Ah, fuck!". Person A: "Well, there's no need to curse". Person B: "No, I'm not cursing: AFAC, that's where you can pick up your bike".], I had to contact the Amsterdamse Fiets Afhandel Centrale - the Amsterdam Bike Handling Center (sounds very Harry Potterish indeed). Located in an industrial area far from the city centre, I took me a while to get there.

And then I saw it: Hundreds of bikes. Some of them shiny and new. Others dilapidated and long abandoned. It was a magical sight. I walked to the counter, where I was asked to describe my wheels. My description blue (or gray) with a green lock barely sufficed. I was told to follow someone who would point me in the right direction. A guy in an orange overall greeted me friendly and explained that 'this' was a social project. People that 'have difficulties managing in society' work there: they study the bikes and register all their features in a database.

It didn't take long before I saw my remarkably green lock. We were united! I paid ten euro and was given back my bike. A long bike ride home followed. We flew through the sky, mon velo et moi. I was happy with the thought that some people found new meaning in their lives by dealing with all these bikes. And happy to be together again fighting traffic and tourist on the streets of my beautiful hometown.

Couleur Cafe

A few weeks ago, I spent a weekend at the Couleur Cafe festival in Brussels. The festival celebrated its 20th Anniversary and the program was jampacked with great artists. Possibly, this was also its last edition as the location where it was being held will be renovated. That's very sad, because it is a great feast! I have had the pleasure to see and hear; Ben Harper, Oi Va Voi, Cubanismo, Ozomatli, Alpha Blondy, Zap Mama, Solomon Burke and Cesaria Evora.

Solomon invited fifteen people on stage and handed out roses and necklaces to the audience (which we were able to lay hands on too!). The way he performs his songs is amazing: seated in a big chair the whole time, he never ceases to keep the audience involved. His lyrics are great too, by the way. I especially like:

"And there are people still in darkness,
and they just can't see the light.
If you don't say it's wrong then that says it right.
We got try to feel for each other, let our brother's know that we care.
Got to get the message, send it out loud and clear.

It's a simple truth we all need, just to hear and to see.
None of us are free, one of us is chained.
None of us are free.
now I swear your salvation isn't too hard too find,
None of us can find it on our own.
We've got to join together in sprirt, heart and mind.
So that every soul who's suffering will know they're not alone"

Even though she's already 68 years old, Cesaria Evora definitely rocks the stage. Her voice is beautiful and when she sings her (relatively expressionless) face completely lights up. My favorite moment of the concert was when she said there would be an instrumental song, so she could sit down and smoke. And that's what she did: in the middle of the stage, she sat herself down on a chair, lit a cigaret and took her time. "Always enjoy life to the fullest" is what she seemed to say.

In the now

with a positive take on the past and hungry for what is to come...



This video would actually fit better on my other blog, where I compile thoughts on how to put our ideas into action and how to live a happy and successful life. However, this specific talk by Philip Zimbardo stuck with me. Why? Because what he describes as the right combination of experiencing time is something I have just recently stumbled upon. It doesn't work perfectly yet (sometimes 'negative past' or 'fatalistic present' do still haunt me), but I immediately understood what he was talking about. I had been trying to explain this to people around me, but words failed me. So, to save me the trouble, please watch ;)

Always time for art?

On my way to a meeting at the airport, I rushed my way through the commuter crowd when my eyes caught a girl jumping ropes. She was shown on a huge video screen in front of the train station, right in the heart of Amsterdam's business centre. A man next to her, jumps along. It was a surprise to see, a sudden bit of peacefulness flowing across the square. I stood still and tried to understand what it was I actually saw.











On the way back, I showed my (very special Burmese) guest the screen and we found out that through a toll-free phonenumber we could hear the sounds that accompanied the images. This time the controlled passion of football fans was shown.
This open air art is provided for by CASZUIDAS – moving images in public space, a what they call "urban screen arts initiative". It's great! Very inspiring. It does make me wonder however whether more people actually take to time to watch it. Has anyone else ever called the phonenumber to get the soundbites?

The far East

For the past year, I've lived in Amsterdam Oost, the eastern part of the city. Before moving there I had the impression that it was a somewhat unsafe neighborhood with ugly houses. Now, after having lived in four apartments (three of them with Indonesian street names), I must rectify. The far East is fantastic!

It is a lively, multicultural neigborhood, especially the part called the Indische buurt. As said, street names refer to Indonesian cities or Islands - in colonial Dutch spelling I must add. The Javastraat is the centerpoint; there you can find all sorts of shops; Turkish bakeries, Surinamese foodshops, Dutch cheeseshops, cellphone and long-distance phonecards suppliers and of course the laundry shop with the Indonesian owner.

The owner of the barbershop is a Singaporese man, who's lived in the Netherlands for years. He works with Sonja, a Moluccan lady, who immediately recognized my Indonesian features (to my great pleasure). The shop is visited by a caucasian dad with his three small children, a Chinese student, a Surinamese Indian man in his fifties, an Indisch lady who speaks Dutch mixed with Indonesian words.

In Oosterpark people do Tai Chi on a Friday afternoon. The Surinamese teacher instructs a group of 30 some people of all different types and skintones on the movements.

Dutch girl becomes Indonesian superstar

On a holiday on Bali, Rebecca Reijman rocked a microphone at a Karaoke bar and what many people dream of happened: she was 'discovered' by a producer and offered a record deal. Now, one year later, she's a superstar. Rebecca is of Surinamese-Javanese descent; she has Javanese and Dutch features and fits the Indonesian beauty ideal. She had never visited Indonesia before. As she didn't speak the language yet, she took Indonesian lessons for two months and started recording. Her CD is a big hit and soon she'll star in a Singapore film.


Her first video Tanpamu (without you)

So, who know.. maybe I do stand a chance after all! ;)

Here are some videos taken of my performance with Chester Brandes at the Anak Wayang Benefit dinner. More can be found here.