Almost There

The moment is almost upon us. Tomorrow morning, we get the keys to the new house.

When we finally reached agreement with the seller over the price, it seemed like an awfully long time until we would be able to take possession of the property. Now, though, it feels as if the moment has come around very quickly. It’s been two months in all.

The essential things have already been taken care of. Home, property and liability insurance have all been arranged, which means I’ll sleep more soundly tomorrow. Our bed will also arrive tomorrow afternoon, even though we still have no duvet to go on top of it.

The alarm system already present in the new house will also be reactivated tomorrow afternoon, even though there won’t be much to steal for the first few days.

The bank transferred the remaining 90% of the purchase price to the notary’s account today. Er, that’s something I’m not going to think about too deeply.

Lots of things will be happening next week, too.

On Monday, a cleaning company is coming to give the place a good once over.

On Tuesday, the movers will be reuniting us with the stuff we haven’t seen since 10th August on the other side of the world. We’ll also be taking receipt of a new washing-machine and dryer. At that point the house will become a little more livable.

Sarah flies with Eloïse to the US for Christmas on Wednesday, leaving me to take care of whatever strikes me as worth doing to the house in her absence. I head out to the US myself on the 31st for twelve days. By that time, I hope to have the telephone, ADSL and cable TV sorted.

Since the contract on our rental house runs until the end of January 2006, we’ve decided not to do the move all in one go tomorrow. Rather, we’ll move stuff over there a piece at a time until it’s all done. It shouldn’t take more than a few runs with the bakfiets or the Greenwheels car. Given that we’ll have hardly anything at the new house until our stuff is delivered next week, I imagine that tonight won’t be the last night we find ourselves sleeping in the old house.

Tomorrow, though, stuff or no stuff, we’ll be sleeping there as a gesture, to welcome ourselves to our new home, the first either of us has ever owned. For all we know, we may well spend the next thirty years of our life there, so we have great expectations on the eve of our new acquisition. Our children will grow up there, we hope to make many new friends there, and this new house will be the place we call home for a very long time to come; perhaps even for the rest of our lives.

Stirring stuff!

Posted in House | 2 Comments

Belspel

Godverdomme! Ik ben erin gestonken; erin geluisd, beter gezegd.

Het is een fenomeen van de laatste jaren, blijkbaar. Kom ik terug uit de VS na zo’n 5,5 jaar en wat beheerst anno 2005 mijn beeldscherm? Juist, de belspellen. RTL4, SBS6, Veronica… overal kom je die troep weer tegen. Goedkope zendtijd is het gewoon. Een niet-bewegende camera, een woordenspel dat geraden moet worden, een telefoon- en SMS-nummer onder aan het scherm, en een of andere snol die doet alsof er nog helemaal niemand het juiste antwoord geraden heeft.

Dat doen alsof neemt doorgaans de vorm van een even overdreven als talentloze acteerprestatie die zelfs het niveau van de overdaagse soapseries niet haalt. Echt zoiets van “Nou, dit hebben we hier in de studio nog nooit meegemaakt, mensen. Niemand weet het gewoon. Misschien komt dat wel door het tijdstip. Ja, het zou kunnen. Het is wel zondagochtend, hoor. Er zijn een hoop mensen naar de kerk of die nog lekker aan het uitslapen zijn, maar jij gelukkig niet. Jij zit gewoon televisie te kijken en jij weet misschien het antwoord. Weet je het dan eigenlijk wel? Bel dan toch gewoon! Ja, want er staat wel €2000 op het spel. Twee duizend euro, mensen. Gegarandeerd, hoor! Dat is me toch wat. €2000, zeg! Stel je voor wat je daar allemaal mee kan doen. En dan net voor de Kerst ook nog. Dat is toch helemaal te gek? Dit geld staat vandaag nog op jouw rekening. Het enige wat je hoeft te doen is bellen. Kom op, zeg! Ik snap het niet, hoor. Zouden we het te moeilijk hebben gemaakt? O, wat erg. Het programma zit er eigenlijk al bijna op, maar dit geld moet gewoon vandaag nog vergeven worden. Dat hebben we gegarandeerd. Mensen, ik hoor het net van mijn regisseur: we gaan net zo lang door, totdat we een winnaar hebben. Dus bel maar!”

Tja, je raakt al gauw geïrriteerd door dit soort flauwe onzin. Binnen een paar minuten gaat die irritatie echter over in regelrechte walging voor de onsmakelijke manier waarop men de kijker tot bellen of SMS’en aanzet. 80 cent per ontvangen bericht of een dergelijk bedrag per minuut als je ouderwets de hoorn gebruikt.

Maar er klopt iets niet, hè? Het raadsel is veel te simpel. Hoe kan het toch nou zijn dat er helemaal niemand het al geraden heeft? En dat zouden ze toch ook niet willen, zou je denken, want dan zouden ze met hun televisieprogramma nog minder dan één euro verdienen voor dat ene winnende telefoontje of SMS’je.

Tot gisteren ging ik ervan uit dat ze gewoon verzwegen dat er al iemand gebeld had met het juiste antwoord. Smerig dus, maar gisteren zei de wel zeer irritante belspeldel op de buis uitdrukkelijk dat er nog helemaal geen juist antwoord was binnengekomen. En, ja hoor, toen ontstond dus ook bij mij de verleiding…

Zou er toevallig echt nog niemand dat woord hebben gezien? Het was toch niet zo moeilijk? Maar het was inderdaad zondagochtend; zou er dan werelijk toch bijna niemand naar kijken? Misschien niet, want wie gaat er nou voor zijn plezier naar zoiets kijken? Je komt die bagger eigenlijk alleen maar al zappend tegen en dan weet je gewoon niet hoe snel je verder moet. Maar op de een of andere manier was ik dus blijven hangen. Zou ik dan daarin een van de weinigen zijn?

Tja, voor 80 cent €2500 binnenhalen; ook ik vind dat leuk, natuurlijk. Dan maar bellen met het juiste antwoord. Geen zin in een live gesprek met die verschrikkelijke trut op de televisie, maar vooruit dan maar. We gaan ervoor. Hier met die poen!

Niet dus.

Wat blijkt? De opgenomen stem aan de telefoon vertelt doodleuk dat ik de negende beller ben en er wordt telkens alleen antwoord aangenomen van elke tiende beller.

Godgloeinde! Dat zetten ze mooi niet tussen de kleine lettertjes onder aan het scherm! Hoe durven ze het? Je wordt uitgenodigd om te bellen als je het juiste antwoord weet, je weet het antwoord dan ook gewoon, jou wordt verteld dat die €2500 gewoon van jou is, want er is verder niemand anders die het antwoord weet… Tja, iedereen heeft zijn grenzen, ik dus ook, en dan ga je dus bellen. Als het er toch voor het oprapen ligt, waarom dan niet?

Puur fraude dus. Al zoekende op internet kom ik verrassend genoeg geen verhalen tegen van mensen die zich hierdoor gedupeerd voelen. Zou ik dan de enige zijn? Van hoeveel mensen peuteren ze op deze oneerlijke manier 80 cent los? Hoeveel mensen krijgen hierdoor de verkeerde smaak te pakken en gaan dan keer op keer bellen in de hoop een keertje op een meervoud van tien uit te komen? Tja, als er al eerlijk wordt verteld welk nummer je nou eigenlijk bent. Wedden dat je ook wel honderd keer kan bellen om steeds maar te horen dat je een bellernummer tussen de 1 en de 9 hebt? Ik had geen zin om erachter te komen en zodoende nog kwader te worden.

Ik ben erin gestonken. Ik neem het vooral mezelf kwalijk dat ik ben bezweken, door de knieën gegaan voor zoiets stoms. Nu behoor ik tot in de eeuwigheid tot die groep mensen die zichzelf ingeluisde onnozele sukkels mogen noemen. Tja. Ik dus. Ben ik soms nog niet cynisch genoeg? Balen, man.

Anderzijds vind ik dit zoals gezegd puur fraude, want je kan gewoon niet weten dat jouw antwoord hooguit 10% kans maakt om geaccepteerd te worden. Dat zeggen ze er mooi niet bij en men doet alsof er gewoon niet gebeld wordt, alsof niemand het weet en alsof jij gewoon slimmer bent dan al die andere kijkers.

Nee, mensen; ik heb voor mezelf eens te meer bewezen dat ik net zo ongelooflijk dom ben als al die andere sukkels die iets voor niets denken te kunnen bemachtigen.

Posted in The Netherlands | 11 Comments

Pan-Am Or Prince Charles?

Apparently, Americans and Britons use different muscles when they smile. This fact can be used to fairly reliably determine a person’s nationality.

Posted in Life | Leave a comment

A Butterfly Flaps Its Wings

Sarah and I made a conscious choice to come and live in The Netherlands. The most obvious other option would have been to stay where we were. Or would it?

Thinking about it today, I’m compelled to consider that we really had very little choice at all. Eloïse’s birth alone would have forced us to leave the US, since she would not be able to receive the type of upbringing she needs and deserves whilst part of American society.

Besides that, things were reaching a natural conclusion in Mountain View.

I had been at Google for four years. All of the people I knew socially and considered my friends were my colleagues from work. One by one, they started to cash in their stock and leave the company to enjoy the good life. Before long, Google was starting to feel less and less like the Google I’d known over the past few years. It was also growing like wildfire, increasing my sense of estrangement.

A catalyst in that estrangement was the birth of Eloïse and the ensuing paternity leave. After seven weeks at home, I already felt like I’d left Google and had adopted a new lifestyle.

That new lifestyle was an odd fit. I was no longer working, but Eloïse did not fill the void in the same way. Fatherhood was wondeful, of course, but routine was lost and intellectual fulfillment was at a low ebb. I realised that this was not a lifestyle that could be maintained indefinitely; not by me, anyway.

My friends who had left Google started to travel, play golf, hang out on the sets of TV shows; whatever. I began to see less and less of them. It started to feel as if our established lifestyle was fragmenting, crumbling away, piece by piece.

With all of our friends based around work and now off doing their own thing, there was little social life outside of the work sphere. Thanks to the absence of the same people from Google, plus the changing face of the company and my own department, my sense of belonging at work was also evaporating before me.

It was all ending. I could see it happening. It was natural and inevitable. Google was entering a new phase in its history and my friends — all of them normal, down to earth people — were now rich and adjusting to their new lifestyles (with impressive ease in some cases!).

Sarah and I were still living in rented accommodation, with very little of our own furniture and few possessions beyond gadgetry, CDs, books and clothes. The only way forward would be to buy a house and rebel against the natural unrooting process that we had found ourselves now subject to.

Happily for us, it all felt so right that everything was drawing to a close. The transition felt like a force of nature, like summer passing into autumn, like an old and fulfilled man’s life coming to an end. This was natural, something to embrace and accept, not resist. Eloïse was a tangible figurehead of this sensation, heralding a new phase of life for all of us, shepherding out the old and ushering in the new.

It was all quite poetic, really. We had to leave; our new baby necessitated it. But there was nothing to stay for, anyway. The sands had shifted and the set of circumstances that had nurtured a life in Silicon Valley for many years, affording us a superficially convincing sense of establishment and security, were now dissolving, leaving only a vacuum. Nature abhors a vacuum, so we naturally enacted our long-harboured plan to commence the next phase of our life.

And now we’re here, a country, a continent — no, a world — away from where we were. Small wonder that I sometimes feel myself suffering from feelings of disjointment and detachment. From Mountain View to Amsterdam. From working to retirement. From carefree life to fatherhood. It’s often hard to pinpoint which detail or complex permutation of details is conspiring to provoke feelings that are nebulous and hard to comprehend.

Too much change within too short a period of time. Are those the boundaries of my own ability to change and adapt coming into view? Can the old dog no longer learn new tricks?

Life’s an amazing thing. Just when you get used to one particular chapter of your life, the tectonic plates of destiny grind together, raising mountains and gouging gorges, and you awake to a new and unfamiliar landscape. And you adapt, because life neglected to provide any other option.

This time in 1999 — just six years ago — I’d just met a girl called Sarah, who I thought was very nice. I allowed my imagination to run riot and constructed castles in the sky, picturing what could be if logistics and hard physics were not factors in our lives.

Long live the romantic heart, with its ability to overpower the intellect and plunge one headlong — before one is able to rationally throw a spanner between the spokes — into a personal revolution. Thanks to an all-consuming belief in the nobility and poetry of romance, I now find myself married, father to a daughter, retired and wondering what the hell is coming next.

At the end of this week, we receive the keys to our new house: another new beginning. What’s in store for 2006? I think it will be more tranquil than this year. I think we will continue to travel around Europe, but not do too much else. We might need all of 2006 just to get used to all of the events of 2005; there were that many of them.

We’re all master of our destiny; after a fashion, anyway. It’s easy to exert influence over your own life; it’s just not always possible to predict the dramatic consequences that will result from a seemingly tiny action.

Posted in Life | Leave a comment

Taxes

It’s nice to live in a country that actually gives some of the money it collects in taxes back to the population, rather than blowing it all on military aggression. On the other hand, they certainly do know how to collect their pound of flesh here; dear oh dear.

Let’s look at cars, for example, where it all starts with the purchase. Not only does one have to contend with BTW (Belasting Toegevoegde Waarde), the Dutch VAT, at 19%; but there’s also BPM (Belasting op Personenauto’s en Motorrijwielen), the tax on passenger vechicles and motorbikes. That clocks in at a staggering 45.2%. There are slightly different formulas for petrol and diesel engines, but what it amounts to is that between 56.5% and 65.8% of the price is tax. If one compares car prices here with those of the same models in the US, one almost faints from the shock.

Then we have motorrijtuigenbelasting, motor vehicle tax. The amount you pay depends on where you live, whether you have a diesel, petrol or LPG vehicle, and the weight of the vehicle (SUV owners beware!). Noord-Holland is the province with the lowest tax (don’t ask me why), but reckon on €700+ per year for a 1750 kg vehicle.

And the petrol? Thanks to the combination of excise and BTW, 67.2% of the price per litre at the pump goes to the government; and this country has the highest petrol prices in all of Europe. If you have a diesel car, that’s 56.9%. LPG vehicle owners escape with a measly 28.1% tax obligation.

Even the damn car insurance premium is taxed with assurantiebelasting, insurance tax at 7%.

Man, paying for that new Audi A6 in January is going to be fun.

And what about our new house? Well, it’s not new, which is to say that somebody already owns it. That means we have to pay overdrachtsbelasting, transfer tax, at 6%. If it were newly built, it would be even worse, as we’d have to pay BTW at 19%.

Then, of course, we have property tax or onroerende-zaakbelasting, as it’s known here. This differs by city, but is broken down into two parts: an owner’s part and a user’s part. The owner is simply the owner of the property, the user the person who lives there. If the owner and the user are the same person, that person is responsible for paying both parts. The existence of a user’s part may have led you to conclude that property tax is also paid here by people who rent property, as well as people who own it. This is correct.

In Amsterdam, the formula for the owner’s part is €1.44 per €2268 of property value. The user’s part is €1.15 per €2268 of property value. For the purposes of this formula, the property value is not the purchase price. Rather, it is the Waardering Onroerende Zaken (WOZ) value of the property, which is a value assigned to it by a local council assessment, which takes place every few years. This is generally lower than the actual purchase price of the property.

Ignoring the minor yearly fees for sewage and water management, we’re left with the eigenwoningforfait, literally the ‘own home forfeiture’. This is a tax on woongenot or — wait for it — living enjoyment. That’s right, the Dutch government taxes you, based on the assumption that you will derive pleasure from living in property that you own.

For property with a value greater than €75,000, the amount calculated is 0.6% of the WOZ value of the property, with a maximum of €8500. However, this is not the amount of actual tax you pay. Rather, that amount is considered to be extra income, so it’s added to your annual income and consequently taxed as such, so you pay according to whichever income tax bracket you happen to fall into.

They say there are only two things you can be sure of in this life. Firstly, you will pay taxes. Secondly, you will die. Tja…

I haven’t done more than scratch the surface, of course. Vermogensrendementsheffing (asset tax), income tax and a host of others are enough to make your toes curl.

The fact that the government here levies taxes hardly makes it unique, but it does levy a lot of them in comparison with other countries. In spite of this, I’m happy to be back, as I feel that the money is more constructively and wisely spent than in many other places; certainly than in the US, my erstwhile abode.

Posted in The Netherlands | 8 Comments