Introduction

In the south-east of the Dutch capital Amsterdam lies a small urban enclave called Linnaeushof. Closed off from the surroundings and focused on a large church in its middle. This catholic church is the Church of the Holy Martyrs of Gorcum and was designed by Kropholler in 1927 together with the housings and monastery around it. The housing served exclusively the people affiliated with the church and Linneaushof provided them with all the services and amenities they could ever need; the inhabitants could live out their days almost exclusively in Linnaeushof, as apart from the aforementioned church and housing, the urban enclave also included a school and shops.¹ Nowadays, fewer people attend the church and not all the inhabitants of the enclave are affiliated with it. The focus has shifted somewhat, as the shops are also largely gone, to the tennis courts just beside the church. However, due to the spatial articulation and the particular functional (traffic) connection to the urban network of Amsterdam, Linnaeushof is still very much an enclave, with a strong identity and perhaps some distance from its immediate context. The enclave was built just as modernism in Architecture was growing more and more influential, and although Kropholler is viewed as a traditionalist, his attitude towards the problem of mass housing and metropolitan living suggest, but at the same time transcends the modernist paradigm.

A Brief Description

Alexander Jacobus Kropholler was born in 1881 into a large family of 5 children: two of the children grew up to be architects, two became musicians in Germany and one became an artist. The Kropholler family was very artictic. A.J. Kropholler became well-nown for his Berlage-influenced architecture; especially due to his designs of sober brick churches and town halls. In the 1920s and 1930s, Kropholler, as all the Dutch architects at the time, wordked within a field which was split into several groups of differing positions and ideologies² many of them, such as the Amsterdam School, de Stijl and even Nieuwe Bouwen claimed to be influenced by Berlage. While some architects, such as Rietveld, who transitioned from De Stijl into Het Niewe Bouwen, Kropholler always kept faithful to the rational and somewhat traditional-looking architecture and the “Hollandse bouwtraditie” (Dutch building tradition)³. For over 10 years, Kropholler worked together with Staal. They developed a style that combined Berlage’s influences and the high-rise architecture of the USA. After they split, Kropholler focused solely on the “Hollandse bouwtraditie”. After the ending of the cooperation with Staal, Kropholler joined the “Algemene Katholieke Kunstenaars Vereniging” an associations of catholic artists, in which other figures, such a Granpré Molière belonged as well. After his accession, churches formed an import role in the oeuvre of Kropholler; he designed about 18 churches and several town halls.⁴

The building of the church in Linnaeushof was financed by the sale of the surrounding dwellings, thus the whole enclave was focused toward the inside; the church. When one stands in the enclave, one can hardly notice the surrounding city-fabric of Amsterdam. The housing scheme is really closed off from the surroundings, but it is not a gated community; anyone can enter. There are three openings in the building blocks where people can get in and out of the enclave, two larger ones that can be used by cars and one small just enough for the pedestrians. In the enclave there are 4 different kinds of facades that surround the central space (where the chuch stands), however they bear a marked resemblance to each other, the biggest difference between them is in the articulation of the roof. But all the facades consist of red hand formed brick, even the church, forming a diverse, if not sober scheme. The plans on the other hand are the standardized behind every facade, only the housing on the corners have different plans, but that is mainly because of the different shape of these buildings. Kropholler likely wanted to create diversity in housing types and plans but also needed to approach the enclave as a mass housing project because of its size. Thus the project contains a few standard plans (maisonettes, row-houses and apartments, for example) within a larger scheme. The design also needed to be built cheaply, because the profit from the sale of the houses went toward financing the chuch. The Linnaeushof can therefore be seen as a combination between modernist thinking on rationalized dwelling and traditionalis formal language. However, it should be noted that Kropholler himself opposed modern architecture of it time⁵, and probably never wanted to make a modern design. That’s probably why Kropholler tried to make various façades for the different blocks, even if the floorplans were almost the same.

Therefore positioning Linnaeushof in a history of Dutch dwelling architecture might be more problematic than it would seem. While historians have largely focused on de Stijl and Nieuwe Bouwen as the most prominent movements in the building in the inter-war period⁶, Searing points out that many developments are being re-evaluated, especially those who, like Kropholler, have been largely influenced by Berlage and even the strongly traditionalist “Delft School” of Granpré Moliere.

However, with hindsight, it might be considered that the combination of a perhaps more traditional articulation, mass housing and its unique position as an enclave within the greater metropolitan network of Amsterdam has made Linnaeushof an attractive place for its inhabitants far from the modernist dream-turned-nightmare of bare, transparent, standardised and ultimately controlling housing that can be seen in the film “Playtime”⁷ which, much like Lefebvre, criticizes modernism’s tendency to design only in terms of functional relationships and machine production, which results in a bland environment that is more like a prison for the human inhabitant.

We would like to discuss Kropholler’s attitude to the nature of modernity, identity and the facilitating everyday as it is evident in his Linnaeushof project in Amsterdam. Here, a certain amount of perhaps seemingly opposing attitudes are present which we will now analyse in more detail, specifically dealing with the architect’s treatment of place, identity and the problem of dwelling and mass housing.

Everyday life as facilitated by the architecture of Linnaeushof

Lefebvre argues that the modern project has led to an autonomy of different disciplines and thus severed as inherent order present in everyday life, all the while placing a very strong conscious emphasis on the link between form and function ⁸. And while certain architects, such as Venturi and Scott-Brown have tried to salvage the inherent symbolism and meaning in architecture, they failed to relay all but the simplest architectural messages, such as “I am rich” and the like⁹. Truth be told, this effort might have come a little too late. By the time Venturi and Scott-Brown published “Learning from Las Vegas” in 1972, the Western civilization had already been stripped of any inherent underlying system, except the debased, commercialised, and as Lefebvre argues, commercially controlled everydayness¹⁰.

Linnaeushof, a project built along a more traditionalist lines in the inter-war period, does not seem have been influenced by modernity, indeed, it fits quite snugly into Heidegger’s description of an ideal dwelling, as it conforms to all four of his requirements (connection to heaven, earth divinity and mortal¹¹, especially if we consider the whole plan (and so the church) as an extension of the individual dwelling. This allows true dwelling to take place, and thus provides its inhabitants with a sense of identity. This is especially true if we consider the circumstances under which Linnaeushof was built. As a small catholic enclave in Amsterdam, with a church, a cloister and a school, it provides community facilities for its inhabitants that surely strengthen a sense of belonging to a place. Furthermore, the whole project is orientated toward the church in the middle of the block and provides a literal and symbolic focal point¹². Such intense focus on place-making betrays a humanist approach to architecture.

However, far from being completely traditionalist, or anti-urban, as is the case of Granpré Moliere’s Vreewijk in Rotterdam¹³, the Linnaeushof also displays an unusual stance towards urbanity and technology. The project’s embedidness and functional traffic connection with the metropolis is softened by the articulation of the transition from the main roads into the block. Furthermore, far from being a mere imitation of a village square, the height of the buildings, the rationalisation of the façade, which means that maximum effect is reached with a few variations in the articulation and the standardised floor plans of mid-rise apartment buildings means that Kropholler was most likely aware of the discourse on affordable dwellings and his design can be seen as an alternative to the modernist abstract projects by J.J.P. Oud in that were built even before his time. The design by Kropholler attaches a great importance to the familiar, the recognizable and the identifiable.

Thus, there seems to be a slight discrepancy between the more “modern” concern of the architects, such as the standardized apartment units and rationalized façade designs with the more traditionalist articulation and detailing. And while some scholars argue that tradition is not a static thing in itself, but is capable of gradual change over time¹⁴ , the three approaches that Alan Mann describes are as follows. The traditionalist approach where the architects presents no innovative features and does things “as they have always been done”, the modernist method, in which the architect reinvents the wheel, or a third way (which was proposed by Eco) where the architect would “link the basic codes and conventions of society…its basis exists within the framework of social and aesthetic expectations. At the same time, this architecture would anticipate cultural, technological and economic changes…”¹⁵.

Linnaeushof certainly answers the call for a catholic enclave, but how about anticipating various changes. While we cannot speak for the architect, but the project itself makes is still standing, though not all the original functions have been kept. Furthermore, we can see that the varied availability of dwelling types and dwelling areas has stood the test of time very well, especially since big cities require a mix of functions and residents¹⁶. Furthermore, instead of working-class Catholic families, the apartments now sell for high prices to the well-to-do.

What we propose is that the project could be classified as proto-critical regionalist. Kenneth Frampton argues that critical regionalism is not a certain unified style, but an attitude adopted by the architect toward the matter at hand, critical regionalism is framed as neither populist nor back-ward looking, but as mindful of cultural context, concerned with place-making and in touch with the global architectural discourse¹⁷. The list of critical regionalist architects includes such diverse figures as Botta, Barragán and Ando, however, their architectures are very diverse. Especially interesting is Barragán, who “veered towards a nostalgic anti-modernism”¹⁸, thus showing that the personal conviction of critical regionalists is also not a monolithic thing, but can vary from architect to architect. Moreover, Goldhagen argues that modernism should be viewed neither as a style, nor as a political movement within architecture, but rather a discourse of architects who have decided not to ignore the onslaught of modernity¹⁹. That is why the modernist discourse, in its various phases, was able to discuss such diverse issues as rationalization and standardisation, pop culture and social agenda²⁰.

Kropholler might not have been a fully fledged modernist, although his Linnaeushof does show several strains in common with the pastoral view of architectural product in modernism²¹, namely the belief that architecture can provide a soothing environment within the modern metropolis. Furthermore, we can view Linnaeushof as drawing and contributing from and to various fields of modernist discourse, such as mass housing and providing a green living environment in the city. It also caters to the need of appropriation and identification of its inhabitants and is thus far ahead of its time, since these issues would be raised again by Team X after World War II. Thus the architects, while was able to be involved in contemporary architectural discourse, while respecting the cultural context of this particular project, which in our view, is what Frampton describes as the critical regionalist attitude.

Conclusion

History of architecture, and architectural projects themselves are not always easy to classify, and efforts to make them fit a certain ideology end up selective and therefore limited²² . It seems it is not difficult for an architect to claim a certain heritage. Both Modernist, Amsterdam-school (Expressionist) and traditionalist architects in the Netherlands have claimed to be the sucessors to Berlage, for example, and in a certain sense, all of them are correct. In Kropholler’s Linnaeushof, we find a surprising mixture of ideas and forms. The green quiet enclave, “an area of quietude” as Le Corbusier would say, is carefully embedded into the metropolitan network. Kropholler, in our opinion, must have been aware of the modernist discourse and have been equally interested in solving the problem of mass housing within the city. However, unlike some of his modernist contemporaries, he did not chose to dissolve the city into a field with housing slabs, nor did he dissolve the city into a low density garden village scheme. While we could argue that any of the following approaches would have been impossible, we only need to take a look at Van Tijen’s and Maaskrant’s Bergpolderflat building to see that an ideologically charged piece of architecture need not take megalomaniac proportions, but can be realized as a manifesto on a smaller area than the grand schemes (of for example Le Corbusier and his projects for cities) would have us imagine.

Linnaeushof, due to its unique combination of urbanisation and architectural articulation, becomes an ideal fragment, rather than the fragment of an ideal. In this project, a synthesis of several ideas is realized which hint at a different sensibility than purely a traditionalist one, although we can safely say that Kropholler did reject the formal and urbanistic proposals of the then up-and-coming modernism. The special attention given to place making and identifiable formal language, while dealing with the typically modernist problems of standardisation and mass housing. While it may not have been the architect’s original intention, the project is able to anticipate the future, with subtle differentiation in external and internal articulation, and an inclusion of different dwelling typologies within the project. We believe that this approach can be seen as a critical regionalist one. Frampton essentially sees Critical regionalism as an alternative to post-modernism and populist architecture which included some traditionalists²³. Kropholler continues in the Berlage’s footsteps, and while he does reference history, it is never a pastiche or a copy of a pre-existing work, he can imbue his work with the familiar, but it is never cliché.

The architect’s sensibility, in regards to the place, the contemporary discourse on mass housing and the a unique take on urbanism in this project can be seen as forerunners of critical regionalist sensibilities that are able to provide an architecture which lends itself to the people and to the place, yet without compromising its integrity.

Him living in the US probably has something to do with some of his views; for example that everything in the Western World is motivated by money, gain, profit, and that we don’t do things well for the sake of doing them well. And with the recent round of budget cuts all over Europe, I could see this culture being prevalent, though I don’t yet think it’s taken a hold everywhere. Anyway, I promise to do things excellently from now on, for the sake of doing a good job.

During his lecture he gave a couple of examples of how poor our culture is. Then he went on to challenge us to find 50 adjectives to describe our best friend, which is meant to be very difficult in these times, because we essentially just use people who are useful and our culture lacks the needed vocabulary. Au contraire, I would argue that the language of Shakespeare must be sufficient and yield at least 50 adjectives to describe my best friend. I’ll not only focus on my best friend’s good side, because nobody’s perfect and we all like honesty. We’ll see if I’ll be unfriended as a result of this post; so it’s like a test of friendship, I guess.

Anyway, here goes:

Short, cute, intelligent, opinionated, conforming, comforting, honest, unforgiving, vain, talkative, diligent, strong, tolerant, assertive, friendly, caring, kind, generous, assertive, creative, independent, active, cool, optimistic, funny, hungry, materialistic, hard-working, worldly, forgetful, busy, stereotypical, calm, exciting, opportunistic, bright, dense, wide-eyed, meticulous, sociable, righteous, confident, supportive, loyal, empathic, weird, enthusiastic, calculating, warm, brave, naive, ambitious, demanding, thoughtful, distant, sharp, inquisitive, energetic, constant…

I now have found 58 adjectives and there’s probably more. Not all the adjectives apply all the time, and not in the same context, and they don’t all irritate me. But I guess that’s it with friends. I don’t like to pretend they’re perfect (I used to think that couple of years back), and I certainly don’t ignore their faults. I accept them for who they are, and I’m glad and surprised that they are able to put up with me.

Peter

Queue the sexist jokes, because that’s exactly what I am talking about.  AWWW YEAH!

But no. This is a true story that I’m going to share with my readers (are there any? who cares). A friend of mine, who is a cultural entrepreneur and a jack-of-all-arts organizes these really cool poetry/music/stand up/whatever evenings in The Hague every month. He, like me, is good at what he does, but he’s also good at social networking; something I completely suck at. I mean, I’ve had this blog for ages and almost nobody took notice. I was sure I’d have a book deal by now – just kidding. But he invites all his friends, who invite their friends, and though it’s never really been a massive affair (at least the ones I’ve been to), it’s always nice to see other people and maybe even make some new acquaintances.

So this was I think in February and the performance turned into an after party, and before we knew it, it was 2 am (way past my bedtime) and Anna an I had to go back to Delft. First, I should introduce Anna; she’s and ex-colleague and an American acquaintance; and now a friend (she’s on a trip for the weekend, and I’ll feed her cat tomorrow morning). Anyway, she wanted to go, because she really misses some sort of English-speaking culture in Delft, plus she and my cultural entrepreneur friend got on quite well during my housewarming in October, so it was only natural we went.

So as we were heading to walk toward the station, one of the girls (I find it awkward to write “woman”, even if she is in her twenties, I mean, I would never refer to myself as a man and I’m 22, I see myself as a guy) asked if we would walk with her to her flat which is near the station. Being 2 am, I agreed, since there was no point in trying to be a bastard, though I did warn her (and Anna), that despite looking like a man, I’m actually very non-confrontational and would be the first one to run away in case we got into some kind of trouble. But as we know, it’s all about appearances anyway, and as long as I don’t have narrower shoulders, long hair and a pair of boobs, I can play the role pretty convincingly.

As we were going, Anna was whining about food. I wasn’t all that hungry, and eating that late isn’t really what 9 out of 10 doctors recommend either. But nevertheless, during our 15 minute walk we got on pretty well, which resulted in us being invited for a sandwich. I was rather indifferent at this point, but if a kind stranger invites you and a friend over for free food, you shouldn’t refuse. Anyways, I won’t give too much away, except that the sandwiches were impossibly tasty (pita bread with avocado, cucumber, feta cheese, tomato and olive oil). I actually really dislike tomatoes most of the time (or I say i do), but the thing was so darn good! I truly mean it. It felt kind of weird, because of course, a girl making a sandwich for a guy is the punchline of many sexist jokes, but this is for the first time that a girl made a sandwich for me just like that. It was a random act of kindness and I guess those are the best.

I think that all first things should be genuine and enjoyable. On your first day of school, your teacher and classmates should be kind. Your first time riding a subway should be exciting. And your first random sandwich should be from someone who actually wants to make you one. Like a lot of first things.

So guys, in order for you to get a delicious free sandwich, which is prepared with care and all that (and not your girlfriend’s resentment, you sexist pig!) you need:

• a girl who needs to get home
• a whiny and hungry friend
• to be able to play the role of a man
• 2 am

Escort the girl home, and you might just get a free meal.

Peter

PS: In all seriousness, I’m making this look like I don’t appreciate it and that I’m making fun of it. Well, I am trying to write a lighthearted entry for my blog, but I will say, that’s the most I ever enjoyed walking someone home.

PPS: While you’ve read this, this piece contains no innuendo and everything happened in a very respectable manner.

On Wednesday, I was walking from the train station to school/work and I noticed the sky hovering ominously above me. Its color was that of lead and it looked just as heavy. I was hoping that I would arrive at my destination before it started to rain, but alas! Just as I was about 4 minutes away, the sky burst open and I almost got soaked. I didn’t get soaked because I had my wits about me and ran into the nearest shop. I stayed there until 9:30, at which point the H&M across the street opened and I bought myself a brand new umbrella for about 6 euros. It’s a very small and flimsy affair, and I’m sure had there been wind it would probably get destroyed immediately under harsher weather conditions (ie wind, which here means almost all the time).

Anyway, the sad story is it stopped raining as soon as I left the store, but an umbrella is always handy, and thanks to its small size I will take it with me when I travel, as I shall need to travel light (but all about that later). Anywhoo, when I was going home this Friday, it started raining again and, since I was carrying two rather weighty bags on my shoulders I pressed them tightly against myself and opened up the small pitiful excuse for an umbrella. Lo and behold, there went Peter, with two bags, trying to stay as compact as possible, so that my footprint did not exceed that of my tiny umbrella.

And then it hit me.

By this point, you have to understand that I have been watching copious amounts of anime. Being an immature geek is only partially a reason that I am doing this,  the other one being me going to Japan this summer, so I consider this anthropological research. To those who do not know me well, I assure you I read all the relevant Lonely Planet guides from cover to cover, so it’s not that I expect muscular guys with superpowers and easy goth-lolis on every corner. Anyway, a popular leitmotif in Japanese pop culture is the very mundane, but apparently romantic image of a couple walking in the rain, sharing an umbrella.

And in that moe-ment, I understood. Two people sharing a small umbrella, it’s almost like hugging, I guess. When the air is moist and cool and people radiate warmth, the idea, is, if not entirely romantic, at least unbelievably comforting and cozy. I smiled to myself and went on, having yet again unraveled one of the small, pointless and joyful mysteries of life.

Peter

Anna is an old colleague and a friend. We live 5 minutes from each other, and therefore keep in touch.

Greater Theory of Love is the combination of their two statements.

Alain de Botton tweets. Sometimes, I think they are one liners from his books, of which I’ve read only one (The Architecture of Happiness). But that’s not relevant. What is relevant is the tweet. It said, among other well-worded nonsense: “true love can exist, the chances of it happening to you: c. 5%.”

Shock and horror!! While I think I’ve already established that humans don’t generally work like some movies want us to believe (love at first sight in a slow-mo scene), still, the chances of finding true love might seem too low.

Until we combine this with Anna’s axiom about going out. She said something to the effect: you can just pick a random person, go to coffee, movies or dinner and see whether you like that person, and then you’re already dating, etc.

Greater Theory of Love: thus we can assume that most people who are in a relationship, are in it for the thrill of going to the movies for free (or paying for the movie if you’re a masochist). In other words, most people starts having rather meaningless, casual and arbitrary.

Q.E.D.

However, this theory still has a few loose ends. Can an arbitrary relationship grow into true love? What is the difference between “true” love experience and the “OK-whatever” love experience?

Whatever, not like I’ll ever find out. I’ve already found my true love. Me. I’ve been told I’m a narcissist, you see.

Peter

One of my friends recently typecast me into the role of the “ideal son-in-law”, the reliable, nice, but ultimately boring guy that everyone kind of likes but nobody really has any strong feelings one way or the other about him. Since I like self-deprecating humor, I added that maybe it’s true: it would be easier for me to find a potential mother-in-law than a girlfriend.

But when I think about it more, there are many reasons why I am actually not that ideal as anything, and maybe I’m not worthy of this crappy title. But let us begin at the beginning. Why should I be considered for this prestigious(?) title? Well:

1. I enjoy cooking and baking and am pretty good at it (or if this isn’t really the case, I have very polite friends).
2. Even though I am a student, my place is generally clean.
3. I’m not a huge party animal, and while I do enjoy civilised company, I am not the type to return home at 4 in the morning every morning after having spent the night drinking, dancing and throwing up.
4. I’m not all that short and I’m not completely fat. I’m not overly sexy/handsome but I guess I look agreeable enough.
5. I enjoy the trappings of urban life, but also an occasional hike, which means that I can bond with people over anything.
6. People generally agree that I am quite nice and generous

But, there are just as many reasons (if not more) NOT to want me anywhere near anyone:

1. I can have a short temper, especially with idiots.
2. I tend to talk to people in a very condescending manner if I think they’re being idiots.
3. I hate DIY. While I can do it, and do it pretty well, I hate it from the bottom of my heart. The most I’m willing to do is take out the trash or change the lightbulb.
4. I actually hate cleaning as well. I can do it, but my ideal house would have a large kitchen where I could spend half the day cooking, and two servants who would clean up afterwards.
5. Widow’s peak, nuff said.
6. While I look like a guy, and have the guy “parts”, I am not brave. Some girls assume it’s safer to walk home accompanied by a guy. I’m a good substitute and not being short or fat I guess I look the part, but if anything were to happen, I would be the first one to squeal like a little girl and run away.
7. Did I mention a terrible taste in music and films?
8. I actually dislike camping, bugs, beggars, places without running water or proper toilets.
9. Underneath my t-shirt, I’m as soft as a marshmallow (not that my mother-in-law should ever worry about that, that sick old woman!)
10. I have a fear of heights and wasps.

And there you have it. Not so ideal anymore. Sadly, this leaves me with absolutely no merit to my name, even if it were the “ideal son-in-law”.

Peter

While I cannot say that I am a cosmopolitan, I do not see my self as some sort of a national, and definitely refuse to fit any national stereotype. I do not want to appear rootless, and I cannot deny that both countries have influenced me greatly, for better or for worse, But I do not believe I owe any of them anything. While I am grateful that European education is basically free and that each country’s taxpayers have chipped in for my well-being, I still feel like I owe “nothing to no-one but myself”. I am grateful, and I will return a favour to a person, but I do not think that just because a certain country’s taxpayer subsidizes my education, I should stay in the place to subsidize their grandchildren. And this is  not because I do not have faith in or disagree with the social project upon which the modern European politics is based.

I think that these days, many people are more or less free to move. So even when I move out of the Netherlands, someone else will take my place and make money here and pay taxes here, while I’ll be in some other place doing something and paying taxes there. There is a whole network of expats, free agents, adventurers and cosmopolitans who will always somehow change places and keep balance in the world (well, if we ignore brain drain, but it’s not like I’d be leaving a country that has a problem with that or a country that can barely stand on its metaphorical feet).

And since a couple of years ago, my nationality and my passport have been helpful in my travels. Since 2004, we’re in the EU, so I don’t feel completely foreign and exotic in France or the UK, and there are no almost no borders to obstruct my movement. Since 2009, Slovakian nationals can travel to the US with a biometric passport and an ESTA from, whereas before we needed a visa, something I consider rather shameful, because it treats people as second-class world-citizens, in which countries are transformed into more or less exclusive clubs. I think that visas, especially tourist ones should be abolished. There is always border control, to take care of the smuggling and criminal activities, and those who want to settle in a country must still undergo tons of formalities.

I am lucky, because my passport allows me to visit most places with very little effort in the way of paperwork (which I despise so much that I cannot even find a suitable comparison) and that is why I do not feel the need to change anything about it. Should this ever change, should the politicians back home ever screw up so much that this would be taken from me, I would not hesitate and apply for Dutch citizenship. Should I ever marry and have a child with someone who is less fortunate in the way of passports, I would at least get the kid a decent one, and definitely get one for my wife (should she ever exist). I believe in a world where people can move, where people can discover and learn, and where faraway places are only far away in the distance that you need to get there. I do not believe in walls, hard barriers and barbed wires. No-one should be made to leave, but you cannot force me to stay. I am not bound, unless by choice.

Peter

Now then, reading about the Betelgeuse supernova, that could come at anytime, tomorrow, in a year or in 10 000 years, and the fact that if we were to see it, it would be the second brightest thing in the sky (after the Sun, that is) for about a week or two, got me thinking what it would be like to be able to witness such a momentous event. Surely, it would change something…

Imagine, not only the media and various doomsayers going crazy, but imagine also bright nights, two suns during the day, to moons during the night. Most people (except those in Iceland and whatnot, who are used to bright nights), might take this opportunity and go out more, some will be unable to sleep. Nature will also be all messed up, from bees, to sunflowers, to birds. But let us not forget the human drama. People who would never cross paths would meet. The boring person unable to sleep and the outgoing person having the time of their life. Oh the drama!

It would make for a great comedy/drama, with people interacting like never before in the setting of a great natural occurrence! I expect Hollywood to buy my idea anytime soon (as if), so expect to see a movie with a similar premise in cinemas soon!

At one point, I think it might have been my teacher or my mother, because I would never think of something that dumb myself, signed me up to a recital. Now I now that in the US, recital is actually something that kids do with a piano or a violin, and I’m not even sure I’m using the correct word here, but bear with me. What we had to do was recite a poem or an excerpt from a prose. So there I was, with a bunch of kids all around my age, who were eager to recite a poem and get a prize (although I never really knew what the prize was). My mother, in her eternal wisdom, decided that I should memorize a particularly touching dialogue from the Little Prince (A. Saint-Exupery). Why? I do not know, as I still don’t get the general weirdness of the book. It was the dialogue between the Fox and the Prince. I guess it was a well calculated move on my mother’s part, because at that age I was still blond, small and could pull off looking like the Little Prince.

Now, what does this have to do with a little gay kid? Just wait. Let us not forget that there was someone else who went for the top spot. Lucy. She was a year older than me, and quite intimidating. We knew each other briefly through some after school activities, and we both had a mutual disdain for each other. I though she was quite rude, while she might have seen me as a threat. I know, had I stayed in the country, this could have made a great clichéd school romantic story, but I did not, so that’s that. Anyways, we both did our pieces (she had a rather generic poem that every girl was reciting) and went home.

Of course I won, mainly because the emotional strength of my chosen piece almost brought me to tears. I don’t know how Lucy placed, but since I won, this is inconsequential to the story. The next time we met, she promptly mocked me for winning “with that little gay kid story”. I didn’t really know what to say, but I knew she was just incredibly jealous because she did not win. These days, I cannot remember if I ever got any prizes, but I did have to recite the piece through the school’s intercom. That was nice.  

Lucy did beat me eventually (Two years later, I think) and was very pleased about it. I have no idea what became of her, but I wouldn’t mind sitting down and reminiscing about our brief period of frenemyship. And that’s how my career in Spoken Word ended, I left at the peak of my powers, at the tender age of 11.

Peter

And although there were some buzz-kills along the way such as dead rabbits, lots of wood (actual wood from trees, that is), two of my cousins being sick (one on X mas eve) and even I myself having to excuse myself from Xmas dinner due to my inexplicable desire to faint right there and then). I managed to survive and even got to attend the Giving of Presents. And I did get really cool presents (for a lack of better phrase – I know a 21-year-old person should not use such childish language, but there).

I did feel like something was missing, and no amount of food, work, internets and obscene cartoons could fill the void. I was surrounded by my loved ones, and yet it felt a bit ordinary. It could be that this is the fourth of fifth time that we’ve spent Xmas with our cousins, and so it no longer feels special. It could also be that because of unfortunate timing and illnesses, nobody really talked about anything and the whole thing felt a bit one-dimensional. I would like to think that it was a combination of factors, but I did spend some time just wandering around aimlessly and listening to my iPod. Not the most cheerful or uplifting pastime, especially with the crap that’s my music library.

This Christmas has certainly been memorable, but not exactly for the holiday cheer, here’s hoping that Xmas ’11 will be better (there’s a chance it will).

Peter