Reasons public transport in Den Haag is awesome:
1. There's lots of it.
1a. There are trams, trains and buses. Many places are serviced by all three. (Mainly train stations though, since trains don't go many other places.)
1b. I have yet to find a place in the city you can't get to using a public transport + 10 minute walk. (NOTE: this fact may suffer from selection bias.)
1c. It comes all the time.
1ci. During working hours, most trams come 4-5 times per hour.
1cii. During rush hours, most buses come every 8-12 minutes.
1ciii. Intercity trains leave about every 15 minutes. Depending on where you're going, sometimes more often.
1civ. It starts before 6am.
1cv. It finishes after midnight. (Not much after midnight though. So I guess it doesn't run ALL the time. You win, NYC Subway.)
2. It's cheap.
3a. It costs €4 for me to get a fast Intercity train to Rotterdam. That's a different CITY.
3b. It appears to be changed by the kilometre. So a return is the same as two singles. Genius.
3c. Due to 3b, tickets all have eccentric prices like €3.21. Hilarious.
3. People use it.
Reasons public transport in Den Haag is not awesome:
1. Sometimes some annoying twat stands in the doorway with massive shopping bags while other people are trying to get on during a torrential downpour during rush hour and appears not to think to MOVE INTO THE SPACE IN FRONT OF HER.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Pumpkin and Feta Risotto (Vegetarian)
I've fallen off the vegan bandwagon a bit in the last few weeks. Not that I was actually on the bandwagon - sort of just following behind it and pretending like I belonged - but the last fortnight has been much more dairy-filled than a usual 2-week period.
It was precipitated by the purchase of a pumpkin at the supermarket, which was just calling out to be made into this risotto. The feta just offsets the pumpkin so well.
Pumpkin and Feta Risotto
Ingredients
2.5 cups of rice (approximately - I measured it in the very technical units, "handfuls")
8 cups vegetable stock (again approximately - I pretty much just dissolve 2 stock cubes in 'some' water and then just add more water later on if I need it)
1 small, or half a large, onion
4 cloves garlic*
1 small pumpkin (the type I used is bright orange and about 1.5 times the size of a softball - but I have no idea what type it is since here it's just called "pompoen")
1 block of feta
A handful of basil leaves
Grated parmesan to put on top if you want extra cheesy deliciousness
Method
1. Cut the pumpkin into 1cm squares. Put in a microwave-safe bowl with 1.5 cups of water and microwave for 5 minutes. Stir and microwave for 3 minutes. Repeat and continue until the pumpkin is cooked. (You can do other things while this is happening.)
2. Dice the onion and cut the garlic into small pieces.
3. Heat some oil in a pan over medium heat.
4. Add the rice to the pan. Cook for 2-3 minutes.
5. Add the garlic and onion. Stir for 1 minute.
6. Add the stock, a little at a time (maybe 3/4 to 1 cup each pour). Each time, mix it in with the rice and wait until the liquid has absorbed. You will need to continue stirring as rice is notoriously sticky.
7. Once all the stock is used up, add the pumpkin. If the rice still isn't cooked, you can add the water that the pumpkin was cooked in too (hopefully you will because it's a waste to throw it away and it's delicious).
8. Add more water and continue absorption if still required, until rice is cooked. Remove pan from heat.
9. Cut feta into small cubes, and the basil into rough pieces, and mix in with the risotto. If it's hot enough the feta will start to melt a bit (OHMIGOD).
10. Serve.
As I've been writing this I've been thinking how delicious it would be with pine nuts too. Watch this space.
* This week I discovered fresh garlic. Amazing! I probably sound like some of those kids who thinks that tomatoes somehow grow in a can, but I genuinely had never thought about how garlic looked when it came out of the ground. If I had, I guess I might have worked it out. But I did't, and IT IS A REVELATION. Fresh garlic smells amazing, is easy to cut, and just somehow seems deliciouser. It's like a culinary Russell Brand. Only obviously that is a really poor metaphor, but I love Russell, so what the hell. I'm running with it.
It was precipitated by the purchase of a pumpkin at the supermarket, which was just calling out to be made into this risotto. The feta just offsets the pumpkin so well.
Pumpkin and Feta Risotto
Ingredients
2.5 cups of rice (approximately - I measured it in the very technical units, "handfuls")
8 cups vegetable stock (again approximately - I pretty much just dissolve 2 stock cubes in 'some' water and then just add more water later on if I need it)
1 small, or half a large, onion
4 cloves garlic*
1 small pumpkin (the type I used is bright orange and about 1.5 times the size of a softball - but I have no idea what type it is since here it's just called "pompoen")
1 block of feta
A handful of basil leaves
Grated parmesan to put on top if you want extra cheesy deliciousness
Method
1. Cut the pumpkin into 1cm squares. Put in a microwave-safe bowl with 1.5 cups of water and microwave for 5 minutes. Stir and microwave for 3 minutes. Repeat and continue until the pumpkin is cooked. (You can do other things while this is happening.)
2. Dice the onion and cut the garlic into small pieces.
3. Heat some oil in a pan over medium heat.
4. Add the rice to the pan. Cook for 2-3 minutes.
5. Add the garlic and onion. Stir for 1 minute.
6. Add the stock, a little at a time (maybe 3/4 to 1 cup each pour). Each time, mix it in with the rice and wait until the liquid has absorbed. You will need to continue stirring as rice is notoriously sticky.
7. Once all the stock is used up, add the pumpkin. If the rice still isn't cooked, you can add the water that the pumpkin was cooked in too (hopefully you will because it's a waste to throw it away and it's delicious).
8. Add more water and continue absorption if still required, until rice is cooked. Remove pan from heat.
9. Cut feta into small cubes, and the basil into rough pieces, and mix in with the risotto. If it's hot enough the feta will start to melt a bit (OHMIGOD).
10. Serve.
As I've been writing this I've been thinking how delicious it would be with pine nuts too. Watch this space.
* This week I discovered fresh garlic. Amazing! I probably sound like some of those kids who thinks that tomatoes somehow grow in a can, but I genuinely had never thought about how garlic looked when it came out of the ground. If I had, I guess I might have worked it out. But I did't, and IT IS A REVELATION. Fresh garlic smells amazing, is easy to cut, and just somehow seems deliciouser. It's like a culinary Russell Brand. Only obviously that is a really poor metaphor, but I love Russell, so what the hell. I'm running with it.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
The Language of Thought
Since we've lived here we've had quite a few friends come to stay. One conversation that always comes up is about language.
"So, how are you guys going, having to speak Dutch?"
The embarrassing truth is that living in The Netherlands - or, at least in the south-western part that includes Amsterdam, Rotterdam and Den Haag - can sometimes feel a bit like living in a part of the UK that just happens to have an odd accent. (In fairness, this also describes a lot of actual parts if the UK.) If people hear you speak English or hear you speak bad Dutch, or if you just don't look like you know what you are doing, they will speak to you in English. As if it's just natural to swap between two languages without hesitation or confusion.
When my friend Jo came to stay with us, she said how woefully inadequate she had felt travelling around Europe with a mere one language under her belt. It's true. Most Europeans learn at least three languages at school on top of their own. It is a continual failure of all English -speaking school systems that I know of that languages are not more of a requirement. Sure, in the US everyone learns Spanish, and in New Zealand you are supposed to learn another language at intermediate school, but experience tells me that people from English -speaking countries are at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to communicating in other languages.
Take me, for example. After 5 years of French at high school, I travelled to France. On my first night I had to call my hostel. I dutifully started the transaction in French. After ten hesitant words on my part, the woman on the other end said rather brusquely, "Just tell me in English." Five years and I couldn't even explain that my train was running late and ask for the closing hours.
Ironically, if you ask any Dutch person if they speak English, they will inevitably give you one of two answers - 'a little bit' or 'my English is not so good'. I'm not quite sure what incredible orator they hold their language skills up against, but every Dutch person over the age of 14 speaks English to a level I can only dream about for speaking Dutch. Case in point: the second week we were here, we went shopping. In one aisle, a little old lady - 80 at least - said something to Mr N.
"Sorry, I don't speak Dutch," he said apologetically.
"Oh," said the lady. "I was just asking if you could pass me those biscuits from the top shelf."
The fact that someone who was probably born in an era when women were unlikely to attend university - or even finish high school - felt both comfortable and confident about swapping languages in a supermarket to ask a strange young man for help in his own language is amazing to me. And the fact is that everywhere you go here it's the same. Supermarket checkout operators speak English. Early childhood teachers speak English. Businessmen speak English. Even homeless people speak English. I'm not kidding.
Not even a week later, we were in a Chinese supermarket in town. As we came up to the counter, the checkout operator was speaking to someone - presumably a manager or the like - in Chinese. As we approached, she greeted us in Dutch and asked a question. We stammered out that we didn't speak Dutch, and she asked us the question again in English. I was taken aback. Within the space of a minute this girl has shown her ability to speak three languages to a level that she was confident using in front of others. I've since discovered that, apart from new immigrants, almost all immigrants here speak both Dutch and English, plus of course their home language. It is impressive to a high degree. Not that anyone can speak multiple languages, but that almost everyone here can.
Time to brush up on my French.
"So, how are you guys going, having to speak Dutch?"
The embarrassing truth is that living in The Netherlands - or, at least in the south-western part that includes Amsterdam, Rotterdam and Den Haag - can sometimes feel a bit like living in a part of the UK that just happens to have an odd accent. (In fairness, this also describes a lot of actual parts if the UK.) If people hear you speak English or hear you speak bad Dutch, or if you just don't look like you know what you are doing, they will speak to you in English. As if it's just natural to swap between two languages without hesitation or confusion.
When my friend Jo came to stay with us, she said how woefully inadequate she had felt travelling around Europe with a mere one language under her belt. It's true. Most Europeans learn at least three languages at school on top of their own. It is a continual failure of all English -speaking school systems that I know of that languages are not more of a requirement. Sure, in the US everyone learns Spanish, and in New Zealand you are supposed to learn another language at intermediate school, but experience tells me that people from English -speaking countries are at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to communicating in other languages.
Take me, for example. After 5 years of French at high school, I travelled to France. On my first night I had to call my hostel. I dutifully started the transaction in French. After ten hesitant words on my part, the woman on the other end said rather brusquely, "Just tell me in English." Five years and I couldn't even explain that my train was running late and ask for the closing hours.
Ironically, if you ask any Dutch person if they speak English, they will inevitably give you one of two answers - 'a little bit' or 'my English is not so good'. I'm not quite sure what incredible orator they hold their language skills up against, but every Dutch person over the age of 14 speaks English to a level I can only dream about for speaking Dutch. Case in point: the second week we were here, we went shopping. In one aisle, a little old lady - 80 at least - said something to Mr N.
"Sorry, I don't speak Dutch," he said apologetically.
"Oh," said the lady. "I was just asking if you could pass me those biscuits from the top shelf."
The fact that someone who was probably born in an era when women were unlikely to attend university - or even finish high school - felt both comfortable and confident about swapping languages in a supermarket to ask a strange young man for help in his own language is amazing to me. And the fact is that everywhere you go here it's the same. Supermarket checkout operators speak English. Early childhood teachers speak English. Businessmen speak English. Even homeless people speak English. I'm not kidding.
Not even a week later, we were in a Chinese supermarket in town. As we came up to the counter, the checkout operator was speaking to someone - presumably a manager or the like - in Chinese. As we approached, she greeted us in Dutch and asked a question. We stammered out that we didn't speak Dutch, and she asked us the question again in English. I was taken aback. Within the space of a minute this girl has shown her ability to speak three languages to a level that she was confident using in front of others. I've since discovered that, apart from new immigrants, almost all immigrants here speak both Dutch and English, plus of course their home language. It is impressive to a high degree. Not that anyone can speak multiple languages, but that almost everyone here can.
Time to brush up on my French.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
The Painted House
Despite my interest in reusing and recycling, I've never gotten into re-creating. My tendency has been to buy fully-formed things secondhand. Partly this has been due to lack of tools (no sewing machine to turn a granny dress into a cocktail one; no circular saw to trim the tacky bits off wooden furniture) and partly to do with lack of necessity (who needs to saw the tacky bits off a secondhand table when you already have a perfectly serviceable one already in your house?).
But then I saw these.
The timing was right. We were in a new house with no furniture. I knew I would have an income that could stretch to tools and paint and sewing machines*. And there they were, sitting in a skip below my balcony, tempting me. After an awkward conversation with the builder who was disposing of them (I say 'conversation', but since I don't speak Dutch and he didn't speak English, I mainly gestured and smiled) I bundled my new possessions up two flights of narrow, awkward Dutch stairs and into our empty living room.
10 weeks later - only 9 weeks after I told Mr N that I was going to do it - I finally started painting them. I first translated the instructions, which amounted to something like, "Mix the paint behind use. Two coats may have been necessity. To use terpentine to wash the paint brush." Which seemed to me to be easy enough. After all, my mother and father almost singlehandedly redecorated both of my childhood houses. Painting shelves would be a cinch.
I can tell you now, from experience, that high gloss acrylic paint does not paint nicely over other high gloss acrylic paint. I spent at least half the time trying to use just the right amount of pressure to get the paint on to the shelves, without wiping off half of it with the same stroke. The fact that the base colours were white and blue served only to make it more obvious that the paint was not gliding on in a smooth, thick coat as I had imagined. I ended up putting on coats that were far too thick, which ended up creating slow, thing dribbles of paint at random places across the surface.
Furthermore, the thick coats meant that my can of paint that was supposed to cover 10 square metres ended up being only just enough to paint both sets of shelves (estimated total surface area: <5 sq m) once over.
Nor did I consider the fact that painting into the corner of a set of triangular shelves would prove to be difficult and leave me with paint all over my arms (yes, I know know I should have started with the corners; it seems obvious NOW).
And finally, I didn't even contemplate the fact that something being "touch dry" did not necessarily mean it was able to be picked up and carried somewhere without ruining the paint job, so I ended up leaving the two of them outside for the night and hoping like hell that it wouldn't rain. (After a sleepless night I remembered the paint was suitable for both indoor and outdoor use, so it probably would have been fine anyway).
The next day I surveyed my handiwork. Yesterday I had been proud of my achievements. The cold hard light of a new day threw every imperfection into sharp relief. Smooth paint strokes had dried into the textures of modern art. Previously opaque surfaces shone through with glitters of blue and white, taunting my home handymanesque pride.
The shelves are now sitting in the bedroom, where they have been for the last two weeks, waiting for me to buy a new can of paint and complete the job. In the meantime I took a picture with a crappy camera to make them look more awesome (and because I didn't have a better camera). Updates to follow, if I can dust of my ego.
(*obviously not for this project specifically)
But then I saw these.
The timing was right. We were in a new house with no furniture. I knew I would have an income that could stretch to tools and paint and sewing machines*. And there they were, sitting in a skip below my balcony, tempting me. After an awkward conversation with the builder who was disposing of them (I say 'conversation', but since I don't speak Dutch and he didn't speak English, I mainly gestured and smiled) I bundled my new possessions up two flights of narrow, awkward Dutch stairs and into our empty living room.
10 weeks later - only 9 weeks after I told Mr N that I was going to do it - I finally started painting them. I first translated the instructions, which amounted to something like, "Mix the paint behind use. Two coats may have been necessity. To use terpentine to wash the paint brush." Which seemed to me to be easy enough. After all, my mother and father almost singlehandedly redecorated both of my childhood houses. Painting shelves would be a cinch.
I can tell you now, from experience, that high gloss acrylic paint does not paint nicely over other high gloss acrylic paint. I spent at least half the time trying to use just the right amount of pressure to get the paint on to the shelves, without wiping off half of it with the same stroke. The fact that the base colours were white and blue served only to make it more obvious that the paint was not gliding on in a smooth, thick coat as I had imagined. I ended up putting on coats that were far too thick, which ended up creating slow, thing dribbles of paint at random places across the surface.
Furthermore, the thick coats meant that my can of paint that was supposed to cover 10 square metres ended up being only just enough to paint both sets of shelves (estimated total surface area: <5 sq m) once over.
Nor did I consider the fact that painting into the corner of a set of triangular shelves would prove to be difficult and leave me with paint all over my arms (yes, I know know I should have started with the corners; it seems obvious NOW).
And finally, I didn't even contemplate the fact that something being "touch dry" did not necessarily mean it was able to be picked up and carried somewhere without ruining the paint job, so I ended up leaving the two of them outside for the night and hoping like hell that it wouldn't rain. (After a sleepless night I remembered the paint was suitable for both indoor and outdoor use, so it probably would have been fine anyway).
The next day I surveyed my handiwork. Yesterday I had been proud of my achievements. The cold hard light of a new day threw every imperfection into sharp relief. Smooth paint strokes had dried into the textures of modern art. Previously opaque surfaces shone through with glitters of blue and white, taunting my home handymanesque pride.
The shelves are now sitting in the bedroom, where they have been for the last two weeks, waiting for me to buy a new can of paint and complete the job. In the meantime I took a picture with a crappy camera to make them look more awesome (and because I didn't have a better camera). Updates to follow, if I can dust of my ego.
(*obviously not for this project specifically)
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Quinoa and Green Bean Salad (Vegan)
Sometimes you walk into the kitchen and think, "I have so many ingredients but none of them really go together." Tonight was one of those nights. I dream of being the kind of chef that walks into the kitchen and considers this a challenge. I walk into the kitchen and consider this a night to eat out.
But tonight I persevered, and ended up creating something awesome, if I do say so myself. I would love to say that it's a great dish for the day before a grocery shop, but it really requires you to come to the end of the week and be left with some pretty specific ingredients in your cupboard. I suggest planning ahead, or using this recipe the one time in five years that the universe aligns and you're left with the ingredients below.
Quinoa and Green Bean Salad (serves 3-4 medium-portion eaters as a meal)
Ingredients
1.5 cups quinoa (I used red and white, but go crazy)
3 cups vegetable stock (I used bouillon cubes)
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1-2 cloves of garlic
200g fresh green beans/runner beans (I think - can't remember how much we bought and I just used what we had)
2 capsicums/bell peppers (I used green and orange)
300-400g jar of edamame beans (if they don't come in jars in your part of the world, I assume fresh or frozen would be fine, but since I've never prepared either of those you're on your own)
3 spring onions/scallions
0.25 cups grapeseed oil (probably you could substitute this for olive oil, I just happened to have grapeseed and decided to be a bit posh even though I have no idea of the properties of oils except that they're oily)
0.25 cups olive oil
0.25 cups red wine vinegar
Juice of 1 lime (approx 2 tablespoons)
1 teaspoon dried coriander (at least that's what I think it was - I'm sure that's what I bought but it smelt suspiciously like parsley)
Ground black pepper to taste
Method
1. Wash the quinoa in a sieve. It says this stops it tasting bitter. I've never noticed, but I'll say it in case you do.
2. Squash and roughly chop the garlic.
3. Put the quinoa, vegetable stock, rosemary and garlic in a pot and boil for 20 minutes. I find 20 minutes exactly is a good amount of time to boil for to absorb all the liquid, but mind it after about 15 and keep stirring as it can get a bit sticky at the bottom as the liquid level gets low.
4. Put the cooked quinoa into your serving bowl. The bowl will need to be about 3 times as large as the volume of quinoa you've made.
5. Fill the pot with water and put on the stove to boil. You don't need to wash the pot, it'll be fine.
6. While waiting for the water to boil, cut the runner beans into 3-4cm pieces.
7. Put the beans into the boiling water to blanch/cook slightly. How long for? Til you've finished cutting up the capsicums (see step 8). That's all I can tell you. How long is a piece of string?
8. Cut up the capsicums/bell peppers into 3-4cm long strips. Put the peppers in with the quinoa.
9. Drain the green beans and put in with the quinoa.
10. Drain any wash the edamame (or, if you have real, fresh edamame, do whatever you need to do with it to make it ready - I have no idea) and put in with the quinoa.
11. Cut the spring onions into small rounds and put in with the quinoa.
12. Mix the oils, vinegar and lime juice in a cup or small bowl. Tip into the quinoa.
13. Add coriander (or is it parsley?).
14. Grind in some black pepper - about 6-7 twists for me but I guess it depends on the size of your pepper shaker and your love of peppercorns.
15. Mix all ingredients together and serve.
I was trying to do some other work around the house, so the quinoa cooked while I pottered. Then, once it was done, I started doing the prep on the other ingredients. This order of events happened to be practical, and I'm sure you could prep while the quinoa was cooking. But I did find that having the quinoa cooling while I prepared meant that by the end the quinoa was warm but not hot, which was a nice temperature at which to eat it.
Enjoy! Feedback welcome.
But tonight I persevered, and ended up creating something awesome, if I do say so myself. I would love to say that it's a great dish for the day before a grocery shop, but it really requires you to come to the end of the week and be left with some pretty specific ingredients in your cupboard. I suggest planning ahead, or using this recipe the one time in five years that the universe aligns and you're left with the ingredients below.
Quinoa and Green Bean Salad (serves 3-4 medium-portion eaters as a meal)
Ingredients
1.5 cups quinoa (I used red and white, but go crazy)
3 cups vegetable stock (I used bouillon cubes)
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1-2 cloves of garlic
200g fresh green beans/runner beans (I think - can't remember how much we bought and I just used what we had)
2 capsicums/bell peppers (I used green and orange)
300-400g jar of edamame beans (if they don't come in jars in your part of the world, I assume fresh or frozen would be fine, but since I've never prepared either of those you're on your own)
3 spring onions/scallions
0.25 cups grapeseed oil (probably you could substitute this for olive oil, I just happened to have grapeseed and decided to be a bit posh even though I have no idea of the properties of oils except that they're oily)
0.25 cups olive oil
0.25 cups red wine vinegar
Juice of 1 lime (approx 2 tablespoons)
1 teaspoon dried coriander (at least that's what I think it was - I'm sure that's what I bought but it smelt suspiciously like parsley)
Ground black pepper to taste
Method
1. Wash the quinoa in a sieve. It says this stops it tasting bitter. I've never noticed, but I'll say it in case you do.
2. Squash and roughly chop the garlic.
3. Put the quinoa, vegetable stock, rosemary and garlic in a pot and boil for 20 minutes. I find 20 minutes exactly is a good amount of time to boil for to absorb all the liquid, but mind it after about 15 and keep stirring as it can get a bit sticky at the bottom as the liquid level gets low.
4. Put the cooked quinoa into your serving bowl. The bowl will need to be about 3 times as large as the volume of quinoa you've made.
5. Fill the pot with water and put on the stove to boil. You don't need to wash the pot, it'll be fine.
6. While waiting for the water to boil, cut the runner beans into 3-4cm pieces.
7. Put the beans into the boiling water to blanch/cook slightly. How long for? Til you've finished cutting up the capsicums (see step 8). That's all I can tell you. How long is a piece of string?
8. Cut up the capsicums/bell peppers into 3-4cm long strips. Put the peppers in with the quinoa.
9. Drain the green beans and put in with the quinoa.
10. Drain any wash the edamame (or, if you have real, fresh edamame, do whatever you need to do with it to make it ready - I have no idea) and put in with the quinoa.
11. Cut the spring onions into small rounds and put in with the quinoa.
12. Mix the oils, vinegar and lime juice in a cup or small bowl. Tip into the quinoa.
13. Add coriander (or is it parsley?).
14. Grind in some black pepper - about 6-7 twists for me but I guess it depends on the size of your pepper shaker and your love of peppercorns.
15. Mix all ingredients together and serve.
I was trying to do some other work around the house, so the quinoa cooked while I pottered. Then, once it was done, I started doing the prep on the other ingredients. This order of events happened to be practical, and I'm sure you could prep while the quinoa was cooking. But I did find that having the quinoa cooling while I prepared meant that by the end the quinoa was warm but not hot, which was a nice temperature at which to eat it.
Enjoy! Feedback welcome.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
The Shipping News
Today I read a post about Buy Nothing New Month. The idea is that you buy nothing new for a month, as a way to "reduce your carbon footprint" and "make an ecological choice". Goodness knows who makes these decisions, but apparently October is Buy Nothing New Month 2013. Whoop-dee-doo.
Sure, any effort to reduce the amount of new stuff in the world is great. But it reminds me if just how ingrained people's buying habits are. Having lived for so long with a secondhand mentality, I forget the amount of shopping that your average citizen actually does each month, and the degree to which people just assume that they need to buy new things when there are secondhand options available.
Before we moved over here, Mr N and I were travelling for three months. Not knowing whether we would actually land jobs, we brought with us only what could be carried in our backpacks - no shipping coming along later, no second suitcases filled with essentials. Arriving in a new country meant starting almost from scratch.
When we wrote to real estate agents looking for a house, many of them laughed at the idea of us furnishing our own house. "A furnished house only costs an extra 100-200 Euros a month!"/"You don't have any furniture? Then you'll need furnished."/"It costs a lot to buy furniture here you know." And then once we got the apartment, all we heard was, "Well, IKEA's going to do well this weekend, isn't it?"
In fact, we spent the weekend glorying in our luck that the local kringloop (secondhand store) was having a 50% off all furniture sale. We picked up 2 couches, a coffee table, a big wardrobe and a set of nesting tables for €120 including shipping. The next day we picked up a secondhand table and chairs for €30 from another store. Since then we have amassed a collection of cutlery, crockery, storage containers, saucepans, a set of frames, a clothes rack, a kettle, a heater and various other kitchen accoutrements, all for under €150 total.
I'm not saying that it's a perfect system. There are certain things that it's better to buy new - knives, for example, are very rarely of good quality once they arrive in a thrift shop. Ditto duvets sheets and non-stick cookware. But the cost - environmental, social and financial - of these things is nothing compared to buying a whole house's worth of stuff.
The one thing that I do feel a little strange about buying new was the bed. We saw plenty of secondhand stores with beds, but the difficulty of trying to find a bedframe, and then find a mattress to fit that wasn't disgusting, proved to be all a bit much. Coupled with the fact that we really needed something to sleep on, we gave in and bought it new.
In hindsight, the lack of fear that I might be sleeping on a pile of rat droppings covered in old vomit probably justifies it though.
Sure, any effort to reduce the amount of new stuff in the world is great. But it reminds me if just how ingrained people's buying habits are. Having lived for so long with a secondhand mentality, I forget the amount of shopping that your average citizen actually does each month, and the degree to which people just assume that they need to buy new things when there are secondhand options available.
Before we moved over here, Mr N and I were travelling for three months. Not knowing whether we would actually land jobs, we brought with us only what could be carried in our backpacks - no shipping coming along later, no second suitcases filled with essentials. Arriving in a new country meant starting almost from scratch.
When we wrote to real estate agents looking for a house, many of them laughed at the idea of us furnishing our own house. "A furnished house only costs an extra 100-200 Euros a month!"/"You don't have any furniture? Then you'll need furnished."/"It costs a lot to buy furniture here you know." And then once we got the apartment, all we heard was, "Well, IKEA's going to do well this weekend, isn't it?"
In fact, we spent the weekend glorying in our luck that the local kringloop (secondhand store) was having a 50% off all furniture sale. We picked up 2 couches, a coffee table, a big wardrobe and a set of nesting tables for €120 including shipping. The next day we picked up a secondhand table and chairs for €30 from another store. Since then we have amassed a collection of cutlery, crockery, storage containers, saucepans, a set of frames, a clothes rack, a kettle, a heater and various other kitchen accoutrements, all for under €150 total.
I'm not saying that it's a perfect system. There are certain things that it's better to buy new - knives, for example, are very rarely of good quality once they arrive in a thrift shop. Ditto duvets sheets and non-stick cookware. But the cost - environmental, social and financial - of these things is nothing compared to buying a whole house's worth of stuff.
The one thing that I do feel a little strange about buying new was the bed. We saw plenty of secondhand stores with beds, but the difficulty of trying to find a bedframe, and then find a mattress to fit that wasn't disgusting, proved to be all a bit much. Coupled with the fact that we really needed something to sleep on, we gave in and bought it new.
In hindsight, the lack of fear that I might be sleeping on a pile of rat droppings covered in old vomit probably justifies it though.
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