Sorry I haven't written for a while; life has been fast-paced on this side of the pond. I'm having a great time over here, but it's certainly given me pause to be thankful for what I have in the States. Read on, dear friend.

I think it's time I break me "don't bother with cameras" policy. If I leave Amsterdam without taking a few pictures, I'm really going to be angry with myself. This place is just plain beautiful. In the States, if a building is 50 years old, it looks like shit and often becomes homeless housing. Here, the buildings are 400 years old, and in great shape. They just retrofit with the latest technology, repaint and restore.

There are downsides, of course. For instance, the water pipes and electrical systems tend to run on the outside of walls. Somewhat unsightly, but the noise is more irritating. You know how your stomach gurgles sometimes? Water pipes do the same thing. All day. With every flush, drip, and running faucet. Anywhere in the 6 floors of your building. You get used to it, but insulation would be nice.

The upside is that you and all your friends live and work in beautiful historic buildings that have resisted 400 years of invasion, flooding, weather, and tourists. And they really are beautiful. Or perhaps California is just damn ugly. I can't say I miss the dry hills, "spanish tile", or desert pastel paint.

I hate to say this to my fellow Californians, but the people make me feel at home here. Not only are they polite, helpful, and patient when I speak broken Dutch, but they're MY SIZE. There are some big bitches here. I can shop off the rack! The arms of clothes aren't fashionably 3/4 length! And the people share my love of attractive cold-weather clothing. I plan to replace my wardrobe before I return.

I do have one serious complaint, though. The toilets in this country are sadistic. If you've never seen one, be glad. If you come to Amsterdam, bring your own and install it.

For the curious, the design is similiar to American toilets: a tank on the back, float-flush mechanism, drain in the bottom. But the whole thing is a little backward. Instead of a deep bowl with water in it, helpfully submerging any waste, the drain is located near the very front. The entire rear 3/4 of the bowl consists of a shelf of some kind, which holds about 1/4" of water and drains to the front as it is flushed. The effect of this is to provide a place for your waste to land, above the water line, on display for your inspection. I suspect it was designed by a proctologist, or perhaps a German.

It gets better. When the toilet flushes, a torrent of water rushes forward from the rear, violently coliding with whatever rests on this shelf. The effect is predictable, but it will surprise you the first time. Thankfully, I was on my way to the shower when this happened to me, but I was Not Amused. I've learned to close the lid first, or perhaps wrap the entire toilet in clingwrap before flushing. If you've got a commercial lidless model, I suspect you learn to hit the flush button, then sprint from the room at top speed.

On the lighter side, I've finally discovered the Joy of Beer. Apparently, American beer sucks. Even the micro-brew specialty beers.

I seem to have fallen in with a seedy bunch of pub-crawling Greenpeacers. Monday night (about lunchtime for you in the PST zone), we went to a small Dutch pub just down the street. Water isn't a common drinking substance in Holland, and many pubs are limited to beer and wine. That leaves us martini drinkers SOL, so I took the "when in Rome" tack. I fully expected to dislike the stuff, as I usually do. Five rounds of a beer later, I was totally sloshed and developing a Strong Positive Association with it. It's called "Maximillian", is dark and sweet, and a dangerous thing for a lightweight like me.

I'm quite fond of what I call the "Drunken Muni Adventure" in SF. It's even more exciting when you don't speak Dutch and the pubs let out just as all the Metro and Tram lines change to late-night service routes.

Strangely enough, I haven't gotten stoned yet. The coffee shops just haven't called to me in my solo wanderings around town. That's probably a good thing. The gang has threatened to change that, however. I'm all for social use. =]

My weekends are rapidly filling up with party plans and adventure with friends from work. My partner-in-crime seems to be Danielle, an Aussie lass for whom "lass" is a completely inappropriate label. We heap inordinate amounts of shit on each other on a regular basis. At this point, I don't think my day would be complete without at least one threat of kneecap injury.

The work is good, too. The office is as much an office as a headquarters for troublemakers, and there's plenty to do. I'm mostly updating/replacing software that lets GP staff dial in to our network, but I also get to field some random problems. Got a call from our flagship, SV Rainbow Warrior, the other day; too bad it was just a "reboot and see what happens" fix. =]

Greenpeace is in the middle of a massive campaign to harass illegal mahogany ships. We're hitting them on a daily basis, and our campaigners are barely sleeping. We've made a massive ruckus in the European community, which is great to see. Most of these trees are directly cut from protected rainforest, and much of it using slave labor. I think the size of our operation is actually cutting into profit margins as well as publicity, so maybe we'll make the European resellers take notice. I sure am tired of hearing excuses like "Bribe-able African Authority X says this wood is completely legal" from European businesses. We're giving them a black eye in the newspapers and the pocketbook over it.

It really is good to work for a company with a greater mission than "make ourselves independently wealthy".

I love and miss you all, and I'll see you soon.