“Watching football/soccer on the television while having breakfast with the New Zealanders”
As you can see I have discovered the true heart of Kiwi-language. They are nicknamed Tommie, Foxie, Robbie, Greggie and Richie and they are not New Zealand's latest boyband but the aforementioned guys at work who watch football at all extreme times.
This morning bright and early, and very tired, I watched Germany losing from Spain with them. Some people were amazed by my precocious foresight that Germany might not be unbeatable, that maybe the Octopus would be wrong this time, that after all Germany lost in the semifinals the last world cup, that they lost from Spain in the Eurocup final 2 years ago … I just had this prediction that following my theory they start very well and then just as everybody thinks “well, they will win” without a second thought, they just totally let go.
The NZ commentator was also an inspiration when it came to the delightful kiwi accent. Not that I know how you would pronounce “Xavi” correctly, but certainly not as “shabby”. It also took me a while to figure out why he was talking about “Islam” all the time. The Islamic world seems to love football alright, in my humble Egyptian experience, but I couldn’t see any Islamic influence in this particular game. Finally, in a brief moment of exceptional ar-ti-cu-la-tion, I understood that he was saying “here is Lahm”, whenever German captain Lahm would touch the ball.
The computer guys had a fun saying yesterday about a rather chubby Uruguayan by the way “Wow! He looks like he’s eaten a few pies eh!”.
We are having a big party on Monday morning, NZ-time final, in as far as any party on a Monday morning 6:30 can be any good, and I promised to come and bake an orange cake. Then the Dutch delegation started sending emails that they were going to watch it in a pub in the city centre, and I should come too. But Wednesday morning during my Orange Bliss, I just had this epiphany. I don’t like to watch with other Dutch people.
This explains so many things. It explains why I never ever bothered with any cups when I lived in the Netherlands. All I remember is being bored when everybody else watched Important Games. It explains why my positive memories of watching football all fall in times when I was abroad. 1998 trying to see fragments of the semi final NL-Brazil while running through Rome with my girlfriends in order to make it back to our (catholic women’s) hostel before they closed the door at 11pm. We were 5 minutes late and the nun who was in charge of closing the door was fuming. 2006 in Freiburg seeing the Dutch as they trained in Freiburg, and watching all the games in the park. And now this …
I suppose it is something with mass hysteria that I don’t like. I am happy when they win, and sad when they lose, but after all, it is just a game … Even with a handful of Dutch people it soon becomes too much Dutch for me. I guess it explains why I am here too. There are just too many Dutch in the Netherlands.
Anyway, this is moving into difficult matter, the twisted psychology of the expatriate mind. I’ll be watching with the kiwis and picking up more kiwi slang. I’ve emailed my Spanish friend and we both agreed that we will totally not begrudge the other nation when we win, since we both totally deserve the world cup. Of course that was all theoretically speaking. The Dutch deserve it so much more.
PS: I’ve been bsy lately with a thousand really exciting and fun things. Now that there are a few days without getting up at 5:30 I will try to post pictures and tell you about my latest passion
As you can see I have discovered the true heart of Kiwi-language. They are nicknamed Tommie, Foxie, Robbie, Greggie and Richie and they are not New Zealand's latest boyband but the aforementioned guys at work who watch football at all extreme times.
This morning bright and early, and very tired, I watched Germany losing from Spain with them. Some people were amazed by my precocious foresight that Germany might not be unbeatable, that maybe the Octopus would be wrong this time, that after all Germany lost in the semifinals the last world cup, that they lost from Spain in the Eurocup final 2 years ago … I just had this prediction that following my theory they start very well and then just as everybody thinks “well, they will win” without a second thought, they just totally let go.
The NZ commentator was also an inspiration when it came to the delightful kiwi accent. Not that I know how you would pronounce “Xavi” correctly, but certainly not as “shabby”. It also took me a while to figure out why he was talking about “Islam” all the time. The Islamic world seems to love football alright, in my humble Egyptian experience, but I couldn’t see any Islamic influence in this particular game. Finally, in a brief moment of exceptional ar-ti-cu-la-tion, I understood that he was saying “here is Lahm”, whenever German captain Lahm would touch the ball.
The computer guys had a fun saying yesterday about a rather chubby Uruguayan by the way “Wow! He looks like he’s eaten a few pies eh!”.
We are having a big party on Monday morning, NZ-time final, in as far as any party on a Monday morning 6:30 can be any good, and I promised to come and bake an orange cake. Then the Dutch delegation started sending emails that they were going to watch it in a pub in the city centre, and I should come too. But Wednesday morning during my Orange Bliss, I just had this epiphany. I don’t like to watch with other Dutch people.
This explains so many things. It explains why I never ever bothered with any cups when I lived in the Netherlands. All I remember is being bored when everybody else watched Important Games. It explains why my positive memories of watching football all fall in times when I was abroad. 1998 trying to see fragments of the semi final NL-Brazil while running through Rome with my girlfriends in order to make it back to our (catholic women’s) hostel before they closed the door at 11pm. We were 5 minutes late and the nun who was in charge of closing the door was fuming. 2006 in Freiburg seeing the Dutch as they trained in Freiburg, and watching all the games in the park. And now this …
I suppose it is something with mass hysteria that I don’t like. I am happy when they win, and sad when they lose, but after all, it is just a game … Even with a handful of Dutch people it soon becomes too much Dutch for me. I guess it explains why I am here too. There are just too many Dutch in the Netherlands.
Anyway, this is moving into difficult matter, the twisted psychology of the expatriate mind. I’ll be watching with the kiwis and picking up more kiwi slang. I’ve emailed my Spanish friend and we both agreed that we will totally not begrudge the other nation when we win, since we both totally deserve the world cup. Of course that was all theoretically speaking. The Dutch deserve it so much more.
PS: I’ve been bsy lately with a thousand really exciting and fun things. Now that there are a few days without getting up at 5:30 I will try to post pictures and tell you about my latest passion
