Lisboa

Hoje volto a ver a minha amada Lisboa. Ou como diria o Cartman, "Screw you guys, I'm going home!"

O casamento da minha melhor amiga vai-me fazer perder a Amsterdam Tattoo Convention... mas vai ser muito bom voltar a Portugal, mesmo que seja por pouco tempo. Ou se calhar por causa disso mesmo.

Ok, I got an early start

Anjo

Eu não acredito em milagres. Se acreditasse tinha pedido para Deus te colocar no meu caminho mais cedo.

a month later

Its hard to believe just how fast a month as gone by.

I arrived in Amsterdam on the 7th of april, so actually it's been a month and a week but I somehow only remember a couple of days so it's a month give or take.

It's been quite the adventure as you will know oh faithful reader. I met some rather interesting people and I was in some weird scenarios sometimes, I was given very much by some, and only the cab drivers have taken more than I was willing to give.

I started working with Blackboard on the 15th and have been helping improve customer support^TM ever since. The feedback we (myself included) have received from our customers recently is amazing. I am proud of being part of such a wonderful group! Go EMEA team!

you can find more of these here

People who know me well, know that I like to laugh about myself and all things surrounding me, this has helped me to deal with some of my adaptation issues. Also, knowing me well means that you're expecting me to bitch about everything that bugs me about my new job. I can't. NDAs and shit like that would probably get me fired.

As a personal experience, working abroad has been just super. It's all about the people you meet and the way you approach situations. I mean, I know so many souls who might be given everything but only notice they should have been making the most out of it when it's taken away from them... That is just stupid! But these guys and gals always have to learn by themselves, so please, be my guest and bang your head as much as you can if the shoe fits.

So, yes, I would definitely recommend moving abroad to just about anyone.

Also, and getting more personal here, I was given the greatest presents ever on my birthday. The one on a little bridge over the Herengracht is the one I will treasure for ever. It's my personal little schatz so I'll keep it just for me for as long as I can... Or sunday. That and the story about my friends playmate girlfriend. We're such lucky bastards aren't we?

As a final note, I'd like to promise all those who used to come here to read my techie ramblings (ok, the one guy) that I'm readying a post on SQL Server Performance, and it should be done soon... so if that's something you're into feel free to come by late next week.

I also have drafts on Netbeans 6, building a Ruby API for tarpipe (which, incidentally I've pitched to some guys here) and JVM tuning. So I haven't totally forgotten that this is a geek blog. I just need some time to get over the city where you can't help but fall in love several times a day.

Decisions

Must be made. And you only know if you were right when it's done. Yet sometimes life makes it easier on you.

For instance, I was planning on going go to Osdorp's Library event on Portugal and portuguese culture tomorrow. Maybe meet up with some countrymen (and women) and basically see what's up.

But then I got an invitation for dinner at Fifteen. If you don't know Fifteen, than the naked chef hasn't caught up with you yet. It will. It's inevitable.

Well, since it's on the company dow, I really have no choice. If I had it would still be the same, I guess.

Does it make you cry?

A day at D's

Lazy sunday again.

Since spending such a bright, sunny day at home seemed like a waste of time, I gladly took the opportunity to go over to D's house and hang around for a while. Time passes much faster when your having fun with some friends.

After helping M fixing the wireless on D's laptop (You just knew it, right?) the day started getting much more interesting. Having conversations with other expats is always amazing because you find yourself less alone when others share their experiences and it's not awkward at all to say that you miss what you left behind and that sometimes you are afraid to fail.

So, and because I'm late for a date with some ice-cream in the park, what do you get when you mix a Portuguese guy with :
- A Bosnian-German hotty hostess;
- A Turkish-Bulgarian couple (yes, the undead terrorist and his wife);
- A Bosnian sweet;
- A Swedish-Syrian techie-babe;
- A German neo-teenager;
- A very sunny day;

Don't know? Care to guess?
- Great food and an amazing day;
- Wine and Laughs;
- Sex and the City would be dialogs;
- Work done;
- All of the above, but in reverse order;

Need clues?

Cigarettes, coffee, chilled white wine. Arabic veggie food. Jazz.

Talk, talk, talk. Smiles, laughs and toasts. Stories and hopes. (edit) And no more boobs

Thank you

Obrigado a todos. Deram-me a melhor prenda de aniversario (das que eu posso falar, pelo menos) de sempre!


Então e agora quando é que vêm cá fazer-me uma visita?

We're actually going to need one of these...

to my gurdy gurdy friends

Rather lovely thing

Lately I've found great pleasure in telling little stories about how fun and adventurous my life has been since I've moved to Amsterdam. I usually also put in some pictures illustrating my days and try to serve them up as alternative postcards from my life in this city. Today is no different, just special.

Friday was a quiet day, the city was still recovering from Queen's day and, to break away with the boredom the Postal Service decided to deliver my two really big and important packages to my next door neighbor. This is a thing they do here. If you're not home, your mail packages will get delivered to the next door. You have to explicitly opt out of this behavior if you want to avoid meeting people in this sort of circumstances.

You don't see it, but inside these heaven stood. To be more precise, a Nespresso machine and my beloved Tango

The highlights of saturday include me finding that there will be a Portuguese day at Osdorp's own library. It's funny how little things can catch you off guard like this. Other little things that can catch you like this are love, poppers and bitterness. But I don't want to talk about neither.

Had it been Turkey, and I would not have been surprised. I mean, this is Osdorp! (read in a spartan way)

On sunday I went to Van Gogh's museum, and I must admit I had some mixed feelings about it. I fell in love with Millais. And I was totally amazed by the quality of the Photo exhibit Me, Ophelia. I had no idea of whom Millais was, but seeing his masterpiece, Ophelia, took me places. I saw Nick Cave planting a rose in Kylie's mouth, I understood PJ Harvey's "To bring you my love" artwork and I found Van Gogh to be a total bore in comparison.

Taken from flicker's John Everett Millais group. Photo by Frank Van Eykelen

Sunday was both mother's day and my birthday so I had plenty of reasons to feel down but I didn't. I had the most perfect day I could ask for, and I wouldn't take the time to have sangria in the park if Lou asked me himself.

All day I kept remembering that I was once told by an old lady that all I can cherish in life are the moments I have with my friends and the people I love because nothing I could ever buy will stay with me when I close my eyes. She never saw an iPhone, that's for sure, but I couldn't stop thinking just how right she was.

"if I show you the roses will you follow?"

So finally, here are some Sam Taylor-Wood's, to wrap your mind around something nice before you go to sleep.

Self Portrait Suspended I

Bram Stoker's chair

Ophelia, the soap pt. I

While sitting at the smallest pub in town at any given night, you can expect to witness all sorts of crazy things happen. I mean, Louis is a guy who has a letter from the British Government apologizing for the behavior of some blokes hanging proud in his wall.

Today I met a rather interesting character, I'll call her Ophelia. As I went in, she sat quietly at the end of the bar sipping her drink and relaxing from a likely hard weekend.

I had promised to make caipirinhas for the staff there, so I was rushed behind the counter pretty much has I laid my bag down. I made my best to batter, mix and pour the drinks and she started looking, first sideways then just glaring lustfully at the sugar and lime half filled glasses.

I had just finished making my second glass when she went ahead and invited herself to be customer number three. She looked straight at me and said
"If the loveliest bartender in town would be so kind ...". Thick londoner accent, ginger lips and graceful gesture included for free.
Annie slid the caipira she was holding and stared at Ophelia who took the glass and caressed the straws for a second. Not being the most graceful of dutch girls, Annie transpires raw sexuality and always seems like she knows what she's doing. Andrew on the other hand, an atypical english charmer with an eye for fun and a hand for game, leaned back and enjoyed his own toughs for a while.

I made quick toast to airport security guards who seem afraid to loose their jobs when someone else is doing a better job at body checking (which, incidentally no one got so I was the only one laughing) and the four of us moved a bit closer so we could chat. Ophelia didn't seem bothered by the attention she was getting from what I could tell, although I was busy choosing what songs would play nice with my mood for the night. Morrissey, Oasis, Depeche and just a little Nina Simone would do the trick.

the origami is like my signature

An uncomfortable silence filled our little corner table when Annie asked what Ophelia did for a living. Calmly, she inhaled, put her glass down and said without even a touch of irony in her voice: "I'm a high-class prostitute." then added "On holiday!"
I laughed my head of, Annie was shocked and Andrew's eyes went wide as his hands reached for the girl's long, fit legs. He uttered "Are you for real?"
"Andy, put your wallet down, she's just telling us to buzzer off, and she's got a great sense of humor by the way" I said.
"No. If I was telling you off, I'd say something like : Yes your wife doesn't understand you, your mistress looks like your mother but you'll still have to pay if you want to keep looking at me" Said her.

I drank some more, tried hard to remember why I was in a pub to begin with and left this unlikely trio to them selfs for a bit. I went for some cigarets and fresh air. I really did, so I can't tell you what the conversation went like. When I got back there where hands, legs, cleavages and a whole lot of old dirty bastards staring at the corner table. Nothing too shameful, although the elephant in the room had little space to breath, but hey, this is amsterdam. Sex is not a tabu.

I tried to reach for my bag so I could leave, but Ophelia grabbed me, and not by the arm, and shouted "This is all your fault you know? So don't even think about leaving before me". I sat. Lit another cigie and listened to some connoisseur comments about size, width and leverage. Then about breasts, tongues and asses. The charming english man did his best to entertain the notion that he could go home with both the girls, Annie couldn't get her hands off the delightful stranger, who on the other hand seemed ever more comfortable as she steered the conversation to familiar territories.

What happened next stays where and with whom it happened. I went home alone.

"with love (signature)" alcoholics are never boring

28

Today was the warmest, most beautiful day in Amsterdam this year. Incidentally it was my birthday too.

Friends, expressos, strawberry pancakes, martinis, pizzas and the Van Gogh museum. Mix it, and you got the perfect recipe for an amazing day.



More details to follow, just as soon as I get my rest.

Queen's day (and night)

30 de Abril marca o "aniversário" da rainha Beatrix e os holandeses prestam-lhe homenagem durante 24 horas.
Vamos por pontos:
1 - Beatrix Oranje-Nassau nasceu a 31 de Janeiro de 1938;
2- Foi coroada rainha a 30 de Abril de 1980;
3 - Os holandeses não são bons com datas. Não, a serio. Morgen quer dizer (esta) manhã, mas noutro contexto quer dizer amanhã. Isto pode causar duvidas em qualquer um;

Então, por aqui celebra-se andando pelas ruas estreitas, que nem sardinhas enlatadas, assite-se a qualquer um dos varios concertos ao ar livre que ocupam todas as principais ruas e praças, bebe-se (duhh) fuma-se (double duhh) e dança-se toda a especie de ritmos. Ah! e toda a gente veste qualquer coisa laranja. Por todo o lado encontram-se pessoas a vender artigos de todos os tipos e categorias no que constitui muito provavelmente a maior feira da ladra do mundo.

No que me diz respeito, foi mais uma oportunidade de sair com o pessoal, rir e conhecer pessoas. O dia de hoje ficou marcado pela Eriko, uma simpatica hospedeira de voo japonesa que quer ajudar outras mulheres a envelhecer com estilo e graça (um dia explico). O Michael e as suas duas amigas e o party-man Ron também merecem destaque porque fartei-me de gozar com eles e ainda me pagaram uns Cosmos (os meus primeiros). Eu admito, começo a gostar de americanos!

Mais uma rodada de fotos para celebrar o dia da boa rainha?

Cosmo! A better way to get drunk!

O meu colega Andy e a Eriko. Mais tarde houve um esforço concertado de tentar melhorar as relações nipo-britânicas

Juro que não fui eu que escrevi isto!

Feira em Osdoor

A chegar a Leidseplein. A partir daqui não consegui tirar as mãos dos bolsos, quanto mais fotografias!

Busty babes!

Big babes! E o Ron com o seu optimismo americano foi meter conversa....

Boat party! Next time man, next time...

Pequeno palco com Djs

Trippin' all the way to the beach

Então hoje fui a praia. Supreendidos? Eu fiquei. Vivi grande parte da minha vida ao lado da praia e raramente lá fui. Alias o meu bronzeado neoblanc era bastante popular por alturas do verão.

Segafredo! Café expresso! yey! A proposito, sabem o que quer dizer sega fredo em italiano? Não? Se pedirem...

Mas aqui é diferente, aqui fiquei em pulgas de saber que havia uma praia razoavelmente perto, a 30 km. Zandvoort aan Zee. Para quem não sabe holandês (tipo eu...) é qualquer coisa como "areia para o mar". Nada como um nome descritivo para uma localidade hein? Descubro a cada dia que passa que o holandês deve ser das linguas mais feias do mundo. Se imaginarem um inglês bêbado a falar alemão de marinheiro e estarão lá perto.

Parece uma mistura da Figueira da Foz com a Praia Grande, mas sem ondas e o mar... bem é o Mar do Norte.

Como podem ver a praia estava longe de estar cheia, até porque o ceu estava cinzentão, mas soprou uma brisa quente a tarde toda que apenas acentuou o obstrusivo cheiro a peixe frito que emanava das barraquinhas de petiscos. A serio, esta gente tem uns habitos alimentares estranhos.. Peixe frito na praia?? Ok, há pior... Podiam vir para a praia rominar umas cenouras...

Esta simpatica menina estava a ruminar cenouras cruas. Lamentavelmente só a apanhei de costas, mas podem acreditar no que eu vos digo

Ainda cheguei a tocar na areia, mas como me pareceu um pouco desagradável ao toque e estava algo fria, voltei atrás na minha intenção de arriscar apanhar hipotermia nas mãos.


E assim, até porque é um dos meus maiores prazeres, decidi parar num bar aleatório e apreciar o fim de tarde com um martini a fazer-me companhia.

Martini, blijvend in mijn gedachten :-)

Como nota final diria que esta praia não será nunca uma atração turistica para A'dam. No entanto, se se virem numa situação em que as saudades de uma cerveja á beira mar bateram forte, ou se tiverem que ficar por aqui muito tempo.. vale a pena. É bem melhor que nada.

Ah, o cheiro a peixe frito deixa de enjoar ao fim de algum tempo... dizem-me de Inglaterra.

Sunday starts with a smile

Ok, quickie, did you tough that NIN's latest single had a Meathead <-> disco dancing vibe to it? -Well, they seem to agree. Trent posted this wonderful fan art and called it the official video!




Enjoy you guys. I'm going to the beach. (more on this later)

Idiocracy

Quem me conhece sabe que politica é um dos meus temas favoritos, porém abstenho-me tanto quanto possivel de falar desse assunto neste meu cantinho no blogger plantado.

Hoje, vou abrir meia excepção. Vou falar do conceito por trás de um filme de 2006, o Idiocracy porque de vez em quando sou recordado que a vida imita a arte como a arte imita a vida.

Então imaginem o seguinte. Uma familia de classe média, com os estudos e as carreiras ocupam o seu tempo e por vezes demoram 3 a 5 anos para ter o primeiro filho. As prioridades passam por conseguir estabilidade financeira e vá, uma carreira, antes de ter um filho. Mais tarde na relação poderá aparecer um segundo filho, mas é cada vez mais raro. Estamos perante uma falha por detrás da lógica de Fibonacci. A proxima geração pode de facto ser em numero inferior á anterior.

Já uma familia de um estrato sócio-economico baixo, geralmente começa por ter filhos ainda na adolescência e, em paises pseudo-socialistas como os EUA e Inglaterra ou até Portugal são compensados por isso. Dá-se o caso de muitas familias deste estrato terem 6 ou mais filhos ao longo da sua vida.

Dizem-me que em Inglaterra é considerada uma opção de carreira sair da escola e ter filhos, porque o estado dá uma casa, dinheiro e até um carro pelo seu "incómodo". Consequências?
- Vivem á conta das familias que trabalham e descontam;
- Abandonam por completo os estudos, e criam um ambiente familiar propicio para que os seus filhos também não ambicionem seguir com os seus estudos.
- Volto a repetir, têm pelo menos o triplo dos filhos de um casal médio no mesmo país;
- Já vos falei de Fibonacci?

Estatisticamente penso estar mais que comprovada a ligação entre o QI de um individuo e não só os genes como também o ambiente em que este é educado.

Voltando ao filme. A continuar por este ritmo dentro de 5 ou 6 gerações o mundo vai estar dominado por gente sem estudos, sem cultura e possivelmente um qualquer "average joe" que fosse congelado agora poderia facilmente ser a pessoa mais inteligente á face da terra nessa altura. Ridiculo?

Então pensem no seguinte, porque foi assim que eu comecei este post:
- Em tempos Portugal foi um país de aventureiros de verdadeiros "go getters", mas, como diz um amigo meu brasileiro, "todos os bons emigrararm. Ficaram só os que eram demasiado burros ou medrosos para sair".
- Muito antes de sermos a costa oeste da Europa, fomos uma região de Espanha. Mas houve brio e engenho, a identidade nacional veio ao de cima e retomámos a nossa independência.
- Noutros tempos, um punhado de homens cansou-se de um regime ditatorial que lhes sufocava as esperanças de virem a ser algo mais, que os empurrava para uma guerra sem sentido e fez uma recolução. Foi em 25 de Abril de 1974.
- Hoje temos algumas pessoas que se supõe pertencerem a uma especie de elite cultural e cientifica a proclamar um regresso a uma politica fascista ou, pior na minha humilde opinião, a desconsiderar as datas da Implementação da Republica, ou o Dia da Revolução, e o significado que elas têm em quem nós somos enquanto nação.

Meus caros, um povo sem história nem memória é um povo sem futuro.

Yes, but what difference does it make?

Listening to:

The Smiths - The World Won't Listen ->You just haven't earned it yet baby

100th post. with pics

Since joining my new work here in Amsterdam I've been trough some amazing stuff. This is my life in the last week. In pictures because I'm tired and slightly drunk.

Some of the guys at work. In this case the sweeds.



What to do here before you die, money allows... that is






The smallest pub in town. not so bad.. Going to the bathroom, now there's a challenge for any wannabe climber!


I know a'dam is a fucking playground.. but this is ridiculous. A ferris wheel and other amusements in the center of the square!

Damn!!

So I finally get around to going to Teasers, at a couple of colleagues invite, and when I get here, all I get is beer! It seems the Dutch government banned the bodyshots and topless serving there. Too bad. The girls ain't what hulf promised (am I getting you in trouble know luv ?) , but at least I got this one to smile and dance for me. And pose for a lousy photo.



Coco is a dancer, (this sounds like a song title...) and a waitress. She's also very nice and cheerful. So it was worth the 6 euros. (the beer god damn it, what else would I've meant?)

On a side note, today I found two dutch kids (in their late teens) who speak portuguese. I wish I went to school in a country where you can learn just about any language you want.

Für mein schatz

lös mich auf wie zucker
wenn du die zeit dafür findest
machs sanft und plötzlich
im handstreich
oder einfach nur mit einem blick
es war alles schon mal da
machs am besten noch während ich tanze
ich tanze
ich tanze
du atmest wie ein funke, ohne körper mitten in mir
sehnsucht ist die einzige energie

Eintürzende Neubauten - Von Wegen (Alles Wieder Offen)

PersonalDNA Score

Lay sunday, oh lazy sunday..

Well, to cheer me up on a lazy sunday nothing better than a personality test. This one I got compliment's of Restelo, a portuguese blogger who also relocated recently and whose blog I'm a devoted follower (Oh, her blog is in Portuguese, so....)

So, as I was saying, this test, PersonalDNA was actually one of the funniest I tried so far, and attributing me a result like "Generous Leader" how can it be wrong? Yes, "Glorious Leader" would be a stretch...

Unfortunatly, it only gives you a little badge as a reward, but I took a snapshot of the full personality trait chart, so here it is:

The return of the Undead Terrorist (and his wife) and how my first week ended in red

Para acabar a semana, e porque já tenho a mobilia montada e portanto estou a sofrer de uma depressão pós-saida-da-linha-de-montagem cá vai o ultimo post sobre a minha mudança para Amsterdão.

Então, ontem á noite aparece-me a porta o clã Hussein para se darem a conhecer e prontinhos para me ajudar. Lá houve mais um susto, sim porque eu não estou habituado a receber visitas de apelidos tão ilustres! Mas desta vez passou logo que o pequeno Undead Terrorist saltou para cima da mesa (que eu ainda mal tinha apertado os ultimos parafusos...) e começou a dar luz á minha nova sala. (Se um dia eu lhe conseguir tirar uma foto ás escondidas, percebem o porque da alcunha. Porque não tirar uma foto á descarada? Porque ai eu ia deixar de ter duvidas sobre se o UT é capaz de matar ou não!)

Pormenor interessante e vá.. intrigante. Como é que um tuga que fala em inglês o dia todo se entende com um bulgaro-turco a viver na Holanda? Em alemão, claro! E muita linguagem gestual.

Fast-forward para hoje á tarde. A mobilia está montada, a casa e a loiça limpas, luz em todas as divisões. Decido oferecer-me uma prenda e vou comer batatas fritas com maionese para a Dam Square. Dou umas voltas, evito as ruas que já conheço e meto-me no Red Light sem me aperceber. Primeiro sinal, os ingleses histéricos, seguidos dos passadores e por fim as luzes. As cortinas estavam quase todas fechadas, o que quer dizer que havia muita gente mais divertida do que eu. Em numero igual estavam outras a trabalhar no duro. Volto para casa porque nunca gostei particularmente de olhar para as montras de um talho.

Para fechar, umas fotos da minha primeira semana aqui. A qualidade é terrivel, e fica aqui a nota. Aceitam-se donativos para a compra de telémovel de ultima geração.

















Ah, estas duas ultimas fotos têm dedicatoria. A da direita vai com um abraço para o cromo lampião que me fazia companhia na Caixa e a da esquerda, com um grande beijinho de Gute Besserung, para uma leitora especial deste berloque. Já sabes que se quiseres andar... Isto aqui é sempre a direito! :o)