This sure is an exceptionally rumbling summer. Let's hope it stays that way: exceptional.
Summer 2011: Greece on the brink of banruptcy from June onwards. Rain all through July. Crazy extreme-right conservative kills over 80 people which he sees as a way to "rescue" his country. August: Spain and Italy nearly drag the EU into an economic abyss that it won't be able to crawl out of. Like the USA, the EU has the greatest trouble to find a politically workable solution. European leaders pose unconvincingly, late, and half-hearted. And now: London and other English cities burning and looted, for several days on end. Is this summer an exception, or part of a pattern?
Posts tonen met het label europa. Alle posts tonen
Posts tonen met het label europa. Alle posts tonen
9 augustus 2011
29 juli 2011
Wordls of our own
10 juni 2011
A weekend away in the hills
Yes! Well! Now! That's it! The pentecostal weekend has come upon us, and it has become time to pack our bag. For a long weekend away, a trip out of the country and into the hills of Belgium. Throw the weekend bag wide open, dive into the cupboard and toss randomly useful things in there. Hiking shoes, old jeans, camera, check! Take a train down south, impatiently staring out of the window, bored with the pedestrian talk of people beside you. How slowly the landscape changes! But unmistakably, changes comes over it, the paperflat damned landscapes of the Northern Low Countries turning into the gentle waviness of their Southern counterparts.
You cross the border. Or at least, you think you do. Maybe you did so five minutes ago, maybe in two kilometres; what matters is that the Dutch urban regions change into troubled Belgian urban zones, where Flemands, Walloons, Morrocans, Congolese give it their slackest of efforts to live together on a few square metres, using all the instruments of cultural-religious-tribal-economic-in-short-political warfare that they can think of. Brussels is in sight!
The car stands waiting already. Your old friends are there, in general merriness everybody pats each other on the back, kisses cheeks, provides pokes between the ribs. The trunk swallows up all your luggages and off you go. Full speed over bumpy semi-highways, off to the east. There Stavelot, in the southern Liègian area awaits you. Stavelot, who has heard of it? That tiniest of Walloon villages sounding like Stavanger and Camelot at the same time? The weekend you will have there! You stop over at a supermarket on the way, kilometres away, to stock up some beers, some snacks, the general. And back in the car you jump, off shoots the car, you drive drive drive, and Stavelot comes in sight...
You cross the border. Or at least, you think you do. Maybe you did so five minutes ago, maybe in two kilometres; what matters is that the Dutch urban regions change into troubled Belgian urban zones, where Flemands, Walloons, Morrocans, Congolese give it their slackest of efforts to live together on a few square metres, using all the instruments of cultural-religious-tribal-economic-in-short-political warfare that they can think of. Brussels is in sight!
The car stands waiting already. Your old friends are there, in general merriness everybody pats each other on the back, kisses cheeks, provides pokes between the ribs. The trunk swallows up all your luggages and off you go. Full speed over bumpy semi-highways, off to the east. There Stavelot, in the southern Liègian area awaits you. Stavelot, who has heard of it? That tiniest of Walloon villages sounding like Stavanger and Camelot at the same time? The weekend you will have there! You stop over at a supermarket on the way, kilometres away, to stock up some beers, some snacks, the general. And back in the car you jump, off shoots the car, you drive drive drive, and Stavelot comes in sight...
8 juni 2011
The Light Pen of Great Authors Who Preceded Us
It was high time. I kissed whoever stood next to me, shook hands with three more fellows, and started to run home; no one called me back. At the first crossroads, where no one could see me, I turned, and followed a path back into the woods. I was heading for the great city in the south, of which they said in our village:
'The people who live there! I tell you, they never sleep!'
'Why don't they sleep?'
'Because they never get tired!'
'Why don't they get tired?'
'Because they're fools.'
'Don't fools get tired?'
'How could fools get tired!'
(from: F. Kafka, 'Children on the Road', Contemplation, 1913)
'The people who live there! I tell you, they never sleep!'
'Why don't they sleep?'
'Because they never get tired!'
'Why don't they get tired?'
'Because they're fools.'
'Don't fools get tired?'
'How could fools get tired!'
(from: F. Kafka, 'Children on the Road', Contemplation, 1913)
31 mei 2011
De laatste loodjes wegen het zwaarst

10 mei 2011
Red Cross Nordic showcases itself
My former Spanish teacher just posted this little video of my old international school on facebook. Made by students at Red Cross Nordic United World College. Isn't it the awesomest thing you've seen in a while?
29 januari 2010
One Night in Leuven
What can students of public administration be seen to be doing on a regular week day? They travel down to Leuven, Belgium to see emminent scholars of public governance.
On Wednesday our research master group of the Utrecht School of Governance made the trip down to meet professor Christopher Pollitt and hear him speak about the virtues and problems inherent in comparative research. As part of our course, we read Public Management Reform, a public adminstration classic which he wrote together with Geert Bouckaert.
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