gezellig, not just a synonym for cozy

"Gezellig met z'n tween" by Liz.
“Gezellig met z’n tween” by the artist Liz.

Put gezellig into Google Translate and you’ll get the word “cozy” back in English.

“But it doesn’t have the same meaning!”

The Dutch have pride in explaining to foreigners how gezellig is one of those words that can’t be translated properly to any other language — or at least to English. Maja says that the Danish have a similar concept called hygge.

Cozy conveys comfort, with or without the presence of other people. You can wrap yourself in a blanket with Netflix and a tub of mint chocolate-chip ice cream in front of you, and that would be cozy. (Having someone else wrapped up in the blanket with you would be even cozier, but that’s not a necessary condition for coziness.)

Like cozy, gezellig is a feeling. An emotion. A gathering of friends at the dinner table would be gezellig. Bumping into an old friend at the grocery store would be gezellig. Riding a bicycle against 20+ kph winds with a friend by your side would be gezellig. It’s a warm feeling, even if your surroundings aren’t.

~

So what makes something gezellig, and not just cozy?

Gezellig needs the presence of people you care about.

Cozy doesn’t.

a speedskating bet

Womens_1500m_Speed_Skating_2014_1402136

Gerwin from Eindhoven made a bet with me. If I can skate 500 meters under 1 minute and 30 seconds, he´ll buy me a beer. If I skate any slower than that, I have to buy him a beer.

[Sven Kramer, the world champion, can skate 500 meters in 36 seconds.]

We shook hands and pinkie swore to make the bet official.

My time was 1 minute and 18 seconds, about thirty seconds faster than I was three months ago. That felt good.

And to make it even sweeter, I now have this ridiculously gigantic 1L aluminum can of beer in the fridge.

“It was the biggest one I could find!”

a small scheduling conflict (Sochi Olympics 2014)

Olympic speedskating is on at the same time as the lecture for “Research Methods and Techniques of Social Neuroscience.” Olympic speedskating happens for three days once every four years. “Research Methods and Techniques of Social Neuroscience” holds lectures twice a week between February and April.

The guy in front of me is playing a live stream of speedskating on his iPad while taking notes. It’s a fair bet to say that he’s Dutch.

I can think of three possible decisions at this point.

  1. Being “responsible”: ignore the live stream, focus on the boring Powerpoint slides and what the lecturer is saying.
  2. Being “responsible”, but in a different way: ignore the lecturer and boring Powerpoint slides, focus on the speedskating race to fulfill my duties and goals as an international student who wants to learn more about my host country’s culture.
  3. Being indecisive: take a half-assed approach and split my attention to the lecturer and the live stream 50/50.  If the current scientific literature on multi-tasking is correct, this means diminished quality and performance on both tasks.

I could only see the corner of the screen without craning my neck or feeling self-conscious, so the decision was already made for me (i.e. option #1).

But let’s say I had a full view of both the screen and the lecturer.

Option #2 is tempting, but the fact that I am watching a mute screen with the lecturer speaking as background noise means that I won’t be entirely enjoying the speedskating. If I really wanted to give the speedskating event the attention it deserves, it would have been better to just stay home and watch the live stream. Or even better, watch the event with other enthusiastic friends.

Option #3 is like wanting everything without the sacrifice. A sort of greed that doesn’t involve money. Rather than making a decision, I flip-flop around the delicious choices and end up worse off than if I had just stuck with one. Had the iPad screen been unobstructed by the gentleman’s back, there’s a good chance I’d have chosen this option.

This is an innocent example. Lacking attention in one lecture won’t wreck my academic career.

But what happens when I’m indecisive in more important things? (i.e. deciding who I choose to spend my time with, deciding what my priorities are in life?). The result would not be nearly as entertaining to read about.

Watching speedskating with the Dutch (Sochi Olympics 2014)

It’s a twelve-hour bus journey from Inzell back home to Utrecht. The men’s 5000 meter speedskating race was on, and there wasn’t a way we could watch it on the road.

And so, a gaggle of about thirty Dutch students and one lone American (me) ducked into a gas station in the middle of nowhere to see the race on TV. Other Dutch travelers on the road had the same idea and would sit with us.

King Willem-Alexander and Queen Maxima cheering at the Olympic Games.

No other nation is as fanatic as the Dutch when it comes to watching people with the most muscular thighs race around an ice track at 50+ kilometers per hour. The Dutch take pride in being good at this sport.

People cheered every time Sven Kramer, world champion and the Dutch favorite to win, popped up on the screen.

Sven Kramer was racing against Jonathan Kuck from the United States, much younger and looking more nervous than Kramer when the camera focused on his face at the starting line.

“So, who are you cheering for?” the Dutch would ask me. They’d raise their eyebrows and look back at me periodically with huge grins. An elderly couple sitting in the back gasped when Jonathan Kuck lost his balance mid-way through the race.

Sven Kramer is wearing orange. Jonathan Kuck is wearing black.

Seung Hoon Lee from South Korea gets ready to start. According to Wikipedia, Lee said that he switched from the short track to the long track to show the world that Asian people can be just as speedy as their European competitors at longer distances.

“Hey look Chan, it’s your brother from another mother.”

I’ve watched speedskating on my own in the past, but it’s much more exciting watching the sport with the Dutch. Their enthusiasm for the sport is contagious. The Dutch are usually calm, cool, and collected when behaving in public — but not when speedskating is on.

Plus you get a better appreciation for the sport when you do it yourself.

The Dutch team swept the podium that day, winning gold, silver, and bronze in the same race. Everybody went back home in good spirits.

 

Hellas Atletiek, 10K

“It’s someone’s 60th birthday today!”

I went with some rowing team lads to Hellas, the local athletic and triathlon club. Someone in the club decided to celebrate their special day with a 10+ km race, so the first thing everyone did was sing the happy birthday song on the track. Only then would the race start.

The Dutch as a whole are quite active when it comes to sports and exercise. The weather isn’t enough of a deterrent to have everyone hole up in their homes, although that wasn’t an issue today. Utrecht had good sunshine for once, and I learned a few new routes around the forest to run around later.

~

There were kids half my height and seniors three times my age running the same race I was — and beating me, too. Should I feel embarrassed or inspired? Perhaps a bit of both.

warm winters

“Did you watch the news tonight? There are Dutch speedskaters practicing in the Yellow River!”

One month into winter and there’s still no snow on the ground, much to the dismay of international students who have only experienced one season their entire lives. It’s unusually warm this year, even if it’s still hat-and-scarf weather. The only ice you’ll see in Utrecht comes from the occasional hailstorm, and even that doesn’t last too long. Some Dutch people have to go abroad to get their skating fix on natural ice.

I’m still crossing my fingers though. Perhaps February will be the month that the canals and lakes freeze over.

Gelukkig Nieuwjaar! (2014)

That’s what the cute animals on the Dutch Hallmark greeting cards say to welcome the new year.

Deciding to change your life for the better during the New Year is like deciding to finally love on Valentine’s Day. It’s still a tradition worth taking seriously though. Yes, even if people set themselves up for disappointment by setting unrealistic goals. And yes, even if the failure rate for the typical resolution is 90%+ within the first month. Because who knows, someone might actually make it.

Plus, it wouldn’t be fair of me to bash New Years Resolutions if I regularly use it as a conversation starter.

~

Some concerns at the start of the new year — or at least the first ones that come to mind:

    • Cooking: I’ve eaten the Dutch food, but what about properly making it? I think it would be nice to learn how to make some dishes to show the folks back in California. It’d also be a nice change of pace when I don’t feel like having pasta at night again. And why stop at Dutch food?
    • Correspondence: Why am I slow when it comes to responding to people, whether through  e-mail or handwritten letters? It’s not because I’m overwhelmed by an unending pile of messages. I like to give letters proper care and time, but there’s a difference between procrastination and thoughtfulness.
    • Speed skating: Learn how to make that criss-cross motion with the legs while turning.
    • Communicating: How can I connect with people? How can I make other people feel understood, and make myself understood? And how can I use the insights from the first two questions to improve my current relationships?
    • Learning Dutch: I’ve hit a plateau. How can I improve at this point? Do I want to improve? If I stop now, I’ll still be ahead of most other international students (as if comparing myself to other people was ever a reliable measurement). If I continue, I risk investing valuable time and energy towards learning a language I will just as easily forget within a few months of leaving the country. So the question for me is — is learning Dutch worth that risk? Hint: I still think so.
    • And in general, just to hammer the point in: Am I taking enough risks?

~

Most resolutions tend to have a common theme. Explore more, do more. Be more. Living in a foreign country (which feels less and less foreign every day) almost takes care of the first two by default.

And the last? That’s up to the person asking.

kapsalon

Kapsalon literally means “hair salon”, but it’s also the name of one of my most favorite comfort foods. Named after the profession of the first person in Rotterdam to ever order one, the kapsalon can be found in any Turkish snackbar. It’s served all year, and is almost a full meal by itself.

Kapsalon
Yes, the “groot” kapsalon is that big.

So what can you expect from a kapsalon experience?

A thick layer of fries cover the aluminum tin, followed by another layer of grilled gouda cheese, shawarma or kebab meat, followed by another layer of lettuce, garlic sauce, chili sauce (sambal), and whatever else is in the condiment bar.

The only downside I can think of to this dish is that all the sauces and cheeses layered on top make the fries on the bottom all soggy. But then I ask myself — do I really want fries that stay crispy forever? I’d be pleased and suspicious at the same time.

Thus, like any lasting superhero, the fact that the kapsalon is flawed makes it even more charming. Mushy bottom? Uneven consistency? Dodgy health benefits? No worries, kapsalon. We’re all just trying to do our best.

~

At five to seven euros (at least around Utrecht), the kapsalon is one of the more premium options for a late-night snack. But if you’re tired, slightly drunk, or “just in that mood”, the kapsalon is your friend.