Class, volunteer stuffs, internships, carnivaal, biking in the snow :*) I heart Amsterdam

Last night we stepped out of class to the welcoming flurried, sticky snow saturated wonderland of Amsterdam coated in fabulous white stuff :*). In the period of half an hour, I somehow engaged in three snowball fights and one bike wipe out on Prins Hendrikade underneath a bridge, haha. Only one of the snowball fights was intentional, one was a hit and run by a little Morrocan boy who promptly retreated into a fallafel stand before we could process what hit us, and the other was an ambush by some roving Dutch teens we had never seen. It all took place in the street right outside my apartment building and quickly escalated into an all out war, involving plenty of yelping, skewed aim and the inlisting of a few comrads to settle the score. Snow... who knew it could bridge so many a cultural barrier :*)

I'm taking a communication in conflict class, on on Sexual Theories (just finished reading Michel Foucault's history of sexuality), and a course called "The Local and Global Complexity of Prostitution" which is a great class. We have all this guest speakers from historians to actual sex workers to pedofile's to clients. It's pretty crazy, but really interesting too. I'm also taking another Dutch class (een kopje thee voor u??) and a course called "Communication in Conflict Situations" which is a interesting combination of philosphy and theater. For fun I am applying my handstand shenanigans and my secret desire to break dance in a Capoiera class, which is so invigorating and such hard work....It is this Afro-Brazilian form of self-defense/acrobatic/rythmic dance/Portugese singing/drum pounding ensemble. After my first class I was finally able to bend over without sincere identification with 85 year old body pains 4 days later, haha.
I also got this internship/volunteer research job with the Salvation Army to do research on sex trafficking focused on Western and Eastern European policies, laws, organizations. In April I will get to go around with one of the women who does street work visiting brothels and talking with actual prostitutes, bringing them tea, saying hello, making a humane connection with the women as a kind of affirmation of the organization's interest in them as people and to be available for them if they need anything. I also may get to help with a special retreat they put on for homeless women and prostitutes in April as well.
I might get a chance to volunteer some with the Legal Advocacy Department of this anti-sex trafficking group called Bonded Labour In The Netherlands (http://www.blinn.nl/?c=home&lang=gb) to help victims get to their embassies and sift through legal issues.... that is still pending, but looks like it will work out.
Last weekend me and some friends hopped a train to Maastricht in the very southern tip of The Netherlands to Carnivaal- a crazy creative Mardi-Gras celebration invovling plenty of sparkles, face paint, plummage, flambouyant costumes, and so many families!! oh it was soo much fun... These are a few select pictures from it - M.J. the guy in the sparkly blue wig, Neah the woman in the sparkly blue wig :*) Andrew in the red bandana were just a few of my accomplices.

So anyways, life it going well here, the crowd this semester isn't such an outrageousparty-go-crazy-stay-in-your-american-ghetto
-and-smoke-pot-all-day group, which is refreshing after a little too much of that last semester...hmm. I feel like I am begining to build some meaningful friendships here as well, settling in as I always will be, but more sure of what I need, or at least more aware of the questions to be lived.

The Question of Consequence-- Reflections on 4 months independent research into the world of The Red Light District

**I actually took these pictures just the other weekend during the "Open Dag" of the Red Light, organized by the Prostitution Information Center (CNN did a little diddy on it while I was checking out one of the ordinarily exculsive venues...). Brothels were opened (this is a picture of the inside of one I visited), along with sex clubs, museums, churches, peep show venues, tea houses, coffee shops...and on and on. It was actually really interesting going inside some of these places, I did see part of a free dry sex show and a strip tease- don't be too horrified- it was fascinating in every strange and reverse fashion to pick apart the hegemonic ideal of "SEX" in its perverse glory; to see first hand what our society deems as the seemingly idyllic the standards, power relations, idolized notion of performed sex- and to see for myself the perpetuation of this addiction our culture breeds on blind sex.
For my Field Experience course, this gender studies major, an often idealistic social justice tauting international student (me) chose her focus to be the broad, ever encompassing, question generating realm of--- what else than prostitution-- I'm fairly certain I will never quite be done with it. Here's an excerpt from my final paper.

In the evolution of my exploration of prostitution, the question of consequence sat brooding in the shadows of my mind. Desiring answers clear and articulate, I wanted to be told forthright that yes, legalized prostitution is good, or no, it is definitely not. But I learned that prostitution cannot be that simple and demands tip-toeing through the layers in order to gain even just a smidge of understanding, something that takes patience and time. I interviewed many organizations and devoted individuals who are rooted in these realities everyday in their work. There was Sina at Bonded Labour in The Netherlands, Celine at the Salvation Army, Mariska at the PIC, Gerda and Edna at the Cleft, Joep the former community police officer of the Wallen for 32 years and other ordinary people. Through each one I set myself and my questions before them, tried to pick through their minds, their experiences, their passions, their frustrations, piecing, piecing together an answer to this question of consequence. And I did get some answers, and I have learned about the situation as it stands today in its faults and promises. But I wanted to glean a decisive stance- and I was disappointed each time. The truth of the matter settles into ambiguity. Post legalization in The Netherlands and prostitution is unchanged at its core. Sifting through bureaucratic odds, regulations, legal papers, hygiene standards, security codes and Human Trafficking Rapporteurs, government promises, dodging heroine addicts sly offers in the streets, loverboy rumors and sex trafficking rings- these may have shifted on the surface or evaporated from the visible eye, but in all remain mostly unchanged. At times I find myself feeling a bit at odds, daunted and frustrated with the question of where and how does one address the problems that circulate around and through prostitution. As Joep, the retired police officer, and I talked and walked through the center, weaving in and out of little allies aglow in red that somehow even I had missed in my three months here, I found myself caught between revelations. He delivered a gift to an old friend, a charming, plump grandma with precisely placed sculpted hair, chatty about her neighbors, her new hip, her children. This woman, so ordinary and alive with energy, in this seemingly universal grandmother comfortable, was indeed the oldest prostitute in the Wallen. As I sat next to her on her couch in her apartment, watching her go on in Dutch and Joep’s patience, it was comforting and strange to remember that this woman was indeed just like any other woman, though her history be a bit unique, though her profession seemingly scandalous. She was someone’s grandma. She loved her life and she was doing what she wanted. Like Joep said, even here in The Netherlands the stigma attached to prostitution is strong and binding, keeping women and men a like from discussing and sharing, reaching out and expressing what they need and want. Whether prostitution finds itself written in the books has no positive consequence if those laws and the social atmosphere don’t afford ears to listen and hear.

Here Come the Pieten! Sinterklaas Revisited- Flashback to a Dutch Christmas

On November 20th with wild abandon parents,the elderly, children, even happy dogs brave the cold to welcome Sinterklaas (the Dutch Santa Claus) to Amsterdam on a steamboat from Spain. I joined a family down the street for the celebration. We hopped in their boat to greet him via the canals. Here is a little piece of that festivity-
“Down at the Amstel the crowds are packing in tight all along the bridges and the river is jammed with boats of all shapes and sizes- full of families, friends, and of course lots of food- applegebach and banketstaaf, tubs of pepernoten, taai taai, and steaming hot tea and coffee. The air is alive with people and color and warmth even though it is so cold out. It is contagious, everyone is smiling, kids are busting out into the Dutch Sinterklaas songs, parents join in too- everyone knows the words. Soon we hear a loud, thunderous horn, the draw bridges raise and Sinterklaas rides in on a large steamer- with crowds of happy, bouncing, friendly Zwarte Pieten by his side waving to the kids, tossing out pepernoten, full of energy and zest. Everyone is cheering and waving, craning to view Sinterklaas. Strangers pass pepernoten and candies across to other boats and back, making jokes with each other- like one large family gathering. The Zwarte Pieten are all dressed in this colorful medieval jester-like garb with mismatched shoes and floppy hats with colorful plumes dancing in the air- and they are everywhere! At least three large boats full of Zwarte Pieten flank behind Sinterklaas’ boat, some even make up small bands playing tunes like pep bands at basketball games back home. They are on the bridges, in the crowds, even hanging from buildings- always catching the eye of parents and children alike with their silly demeanor and promise of candy.”
That Saturday morning on November 20, 2005, as I made my way to my neighbor’s home just a canal and a few streets over, I was not quit sure exactly what to expect. I had heard the stories and seen some Sinterklaas regalia donning the front window of a costume shop on Rozengracht- a golden staff and red pointy bishops hat, not to mention the luxurious white curls that put the Sinter in Sinterklaas- but had yet to experience the energy and frenzy and national pride and unity this celebration brings to families and children in The Netherlands. What I did not know was that there can be no Sinterklaas without Zwarte Piet, who could easily be mistaken by Americans as a 1920s white man dressed as a black man minstrel character. It was precisely the character of Zwarte Piet that struck me as a bit odd, and even taboo. Could Zwarte Piet contribute to racist undertones within Dutch culture? I immediately wanted to learn more about this age-old tradition that is so very Dutch. I decided to base my research paper for my Social Policies, Social Problems and Social Trends course on this festive figure in order to investigate where Zwarte Piet comes from, what that means today, and get a better understanding of each side of the issue concerning the legitimacy of Zwarte Piet.