Liebe bloggees!  First off, let me congratulate you on making the list of fifteen fab folk I spammed to death with blog-reading invitations.  I suspect you're already giddy with excitement over Heroes' new super-secrecy... I know I am.
So, what's on the schedule for today?

Exodus
I've been living at a prison complex in shipping-container student housing on Zeeburgereiland since early April (see So begins our Zuiderzee for photos.)  Let's meet some of the people of the Zuiderzeeweg containers, shall we?  Our cast (in order of appearance):


Erik is one of two Norwegian Computer Science students who sojourned in Amsterdam last semester.  We got to know each other over the course of many rides to and from Science Park on bikes we bought from Waterlooplein... AT THE SAME TIME.  He was and remains both my closest Zuiderzeeweg friend and the object of my foodie outbursts.  He won a drinking competition in a suit and tie, and longs for the days when men were expected to hunt beasts and sing songs in caves while women... made... hats.


Anna is a Spanish Philology student from Poland (how rad is that?!) who lived in Madrid for eight years before moving to Amsterdam for a semester.  I met her in a cab leaving Bergwijkdreef for Zuiderzeeweg, after which we promptly took to some drunken philosophizing at our, uh, container-warming party.  She introduced me not only to the fantastic, free jazz evenings at the Bimhuis, but also to the hip Northeastern A'dam neighborhoods of Java-eiland and IJburg and the IJsselmeer town of Marken, which I bike to on a regular basis.  She is an aesthete and a gifted photographer:

(Her Flickr page is worth visiting.)
I can only hope to be so cool when I hit 30.  And so sweet, too -- when Matt and I were dying of food poisoning on his birthday, Anna kindly made me stomach-friendly meals like rice with plain yogurt and cinnamon (which is surprisingly tasty, actually.)



Buggle and Pierce are Irish game development students who came to Amsterdam for a semester at the Hogeschool van Amsterdam.  One night, Matt and I were on our way to my place to hang out and we ran into these guys in the Zuiderzeeweg parking lot.  Not only were they carrying a giant teddy bear home, but they offered us tall cans out of their pockets for no reason whatsoever (this immediately puts them in my good books.)  Toward the end of last semester, it became impossible for me to get home without getting waved down by one of these characters for drinks and conversation at Buggle's (where about half of the kids on our floor would congregate regularly.)  In fact, hanging out at his place became such a tradition that, after throwing a big, late-running party at my place, it just didn't feel right retiring before having a drink or two in his container.  96N was a home.
It's worth mentioning that "Buggle" isn't only Michael's nickname, but a verb (to buggle something = to screw it up.)  He has no nose and can turn his face into a knife on command.  Pierce enjoys the simple things in life, like Pokémon, lentils on carrots, and newts.  He wins fights because he grew up in Tallaght, the roughest South Dublin town of them all.
I still have their giant bear; he goes by the name of Rupert Grills and has a facebook page.  You should friend him.



These two made regular cameo appearances at 96N.  For our purposes, it suffices to know that Emmet is one smug mofo and David is an angry badger.




Before arriving in Amsterdam to do an MA in Philosophy, Tony both weathered Katrina in New Orleans and was interviewed by High Times magazine.  He fixed our bikes, fixed us food and lived on the top floor -- reasons for which Pierce called him "God".

***
At this point, you may be wondering:
a) Why is this section entitled "Exodus"?
b) Why the long-winded introductions to these people?
Well, here be the deal: all of these fine folk are gone (and, most likely, gone for good (or, goodish.))  In fact, most of them left by the end of June, with only Tony and David still at Zuiderzeeweg in early July.  The good news is that I've consequently inherited a ton of kitchen gadgetry, (undistilled...) absinthe, three yoga mats and a yoga ball, an oven and a toaster, a ton of blankets, duvets and pillows, a TV and a 360 (!!!!), about 20 varieties of tea, sunglasses, backpacks, art, hair clippers, loads of rice, chickpeas and other non-perishables, a sweet pink lamp, four bicycles and even a non-negligible amount of weed.  The bad news is that, combined with the fact that the better part of my Master of Logic friends, too, were plucked from the Netherlands by the end of June, the Zuiderzeeweg exodus spelled the end of my social life in Amsterdam.  What was I to do?  Go annoy former Amsterdammers in the countries whence they came, clearly.  So, earlier this month, I booked tickets to Brussels (to visit Jonas), Dublin (to visit the Irish kids and Daniel Kofman, who was giving a paper at a conference), and Bergen (Erik's hometown.)  Stay tuned for all the deets on those trips! :)
PS: Do yourselves a favour and go listen to "Shake a Fist" by Hot Chip.  (A word of caution, however: "Sounds of the Studio" ain't for the faint, so brace yourself!)

Dearest bloggees,

I've come to realize I don't write many blog posts because I only infrequently have something to share with a public audience (but have a lot to share otherwise!)  So: if you'd like to keep following, let me know either by posting a comment on this post or emailing me.  I'll add you to a list of readers and make this a private blog.

:)

Maja

Bloggees,
There's been plenty to blog about recently (like tattoo conventions and Jonsi concerts and bike trips to the Noordzee and Nuit blanche and Bolzano reading groups and birthdays and barbecues, for starters), but I've been slacking.  I do, however, promise future cross-processed slide photos (since my Holga finally made it here from Halifax)!  And of Vienna of all places, if all goes well.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some Husserl to wrestle.

"The characters in National songs have real jobs, have uninteresting sex, get drunk, and lie to one another. They do so during the regular course of a workaday week, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The National aren't 'dad-rock' so much as 'men's magazine rock': music chiefly interested in the complications of being a stable person expected to own certain things and dress certain ways."