Expats are good to find Pt 2

Pete and I spent the weekend with a curious lot who we are growing to love – a Canadian logician (theoretical, not applied, don’t you know), a (singing) British radio chemist, and a sweetheart of a Dutch freelance journalist. The Canadian, Spenser comes from the Greater Toronto Area and I was surprised how quickly I identified and felt grateful for his Canadianisms... British Lyn the radio chemist is generously aware that things here are even more perplexing for us in Holland than they are for him; and he helpfully explains all manner of European trivia (more of this to come below).

Spenser spearheaded an epic (his words, not mine!) roast of apple and prune stuffed duck for us all on Saturday night. The outcome of this culinary feat had to wait for Sunday, however because, after microwaving the thing (they call it a magnetron here!!) and baptizing it in boiling water, we still couldn’t defrost it on time for same night prep.

We therefore spent Saturday watching the Irish (?) TV series “Father Ted” on DVD as introduced to us by British Lyn. It’s an offbeat situation comedy depicting the lives of three somewhat naïve, rather repressed Irish Catholic priests living together on a remote island off the west coast of Ireland. Um, weird. Weird and strangely enjoyable. Really, very funny…check it out if you get a chance.

One particular bizarre and hilarious episode centers around the Eurovision contest, an annual competition held in Europe (not only the EU) in a bid to foster greater European unity. From what I can tell, however, much of it all disintegrates into kitsch, controversy and tears for all involved; it is generally thought of as a bit of a joke in Western European countries. This particular Father Ted episode sees our Irish priests entering the contest with the following self-composed song, delivered almost entirely in one single note:

My Lovely Horse

My lovely horse, running through the field
Where are you going, with your fetlocks* blowing in the wind?

I want to shower you with sugar lumps, and ride you over fences
Polish your hooves every single day, and bring you to the horse dentist

My lovely horse, you're a pony no more
Running around with a man on your back, like a train in the night

* fetlocks, I believe, form part of a horse’s leg bone and, as such have difficulty ‘blowing in the wind’...

You really must see the Utube clip of the song and attendant dream sequence music video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQmIWMwKCtA&feature=related

Speaking of horses, and any parts thereof, a day prior to all this I had prepared horsemeat sausage for Pete. I had obtained it on an outing with a friend during which our only goal was to find the free ferrying system and ride the waves wherever they may lead. They took us across the harbour for a disappointing three minutes’ worth of ride (but it was a free three minutes!!! And if you went back and forth a number of times it could be a nice long cruise!) to North Amsterdam wherein sprawls a worrying mix of port refuse, industry and almost-suburbia-box stores. One might say we set out on an epic quest (though I wouldn’t) and that we were greatly disillusioned. The discovery of the horsemeat, however, and the free sample that sealed the deal did make up for the letdown considerably.

Incidentally, Spenser has offered to mastermind future preparations of out of the ordinary animal meats. I am a bit worried by British Lyn’s eagerness to cook swan next time. Apparently it’s out of the question in Britain, the regency having claimed all swan in British waters as belonging solely to their own person…