Dag, Sinterklaasje

Today was the intocht van Sinterklaas, or the arrival of Sinterklaas in Amsterdam. We proceeded around noon with our favourite small person (yes, Eloïse) to the Dam, where an almost two hour wait ensued before Sinterklaas finally rode down the Damrak into town on his horse.

It was very busy with parents and children and had started to drizzle by the end, but we got to see the goedheilig man and were handed some pepernoten by one of the many zwarte pietjes leading the way.

Eloïse has experienced her first Sinterklaas! Hieperdepiep! Hoera! Hieperdepiep! Hoera! Hieperdepiep! Hoera!

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Vorsprung durch Technik

“Vorsprung durch Technik, as they say in Germany.” With those words, spoken in a smug English accent by a famous British actor (who is nevertheless not famous enough for me to remember his name), the Audi TV adverts from my youth in the early eighties would end.

I always wondered what Vorsprung durch Technik meant, and the fact that I still remember those TV ads from more than twenty years ago, must say something about their effectiveness at imprinting the brand in one’s mind (or mine, at least).

To get to the point, Sarah and I decided to make our first family car purchase the 2006 Audi A6 Avant, a practical and nippy estate in the 3.2 FSI petrol engine version.

We’d previously looked at the Mercedes E class estate, as well as the Volvo V70 and XC70. BMW was briefly considered, too, until it became apparent that they didn’t have an estate in their fleet that would really appeal to us.

The Mercedes was nice, but overpriced. The marketing materials were rather revolting, too, in their attempt to make one feel like a virulent, omnipotent man-beast, who will be the envy of all past whom he races, as they turn their heads in awe of the sound of the roaring engine and noisy exhaust. Of course, what they don’t tell you that all those turning heads are actually thinking, “What a prick!”

The discrepancy between how Mercedes would like you to think of yourself (once again, a man admired and respected by men, whilst desired by women for sex and marriage) and the harsh, unforgiving reality (aggressive, unhealthy, low-browed, knuckle-dragging, chain-smoking, beer-swilling Amsterdam taxi-drivers) is quite comical.

Like I said, the car itself was nice — very cool, even — but the car has an image and attracts people who want to be associated with it. Similarly, many people who don’t own one view people who do in a particular light. Now, I don’t particularly care about this aspect of the car (after all, I don’t feel the need to excuse myself to everyone), but I do think their cars are consequently overpriced.

The Volvo was next. (You see? I told you I didn’t care about the image). I was almost sold on the XC70, even though it was a far cry in luxury terms from the Mercedes E Class, but I ultimately balked at the user interface of the controls. The navigation system’s LCD screen pops up out of the dashboard, giving poor contrast when driving in bright light. Its buttons for entering a destination address are to be found only on the steering wheel, which I’m sure the car’s designers considered very safe, as the driver doesn’t have to take his hands off the wheel. However, what about the passenger? It’s even safer to allow the passenger to do the data entry. With enough little details like that, you ultimately start to lose interest. The car rode very well, but an irritating user interface would ruin the experience.

We were going to look at the Subaru Outback, but we never made it that far. After a trip to the Audi dealer last week that involved test-driving the A6, we were pretty sure we’d found our car. I’ve spent the last week reading Audi’s own brochures, as well as independent reviews and crash test results (both the American and European). People are universally impressed with the A6’s physical performance, as well as its MMI interface to the on-board computer. Everything is simple to use and — that favourite word in software — intuitive. The crash tests rate it an exceptionally safe car in the event of a major impact, safer even than Volvo’s latest cars (and Volvo is the company with the lasting reputation for safety in cars).

After working my way down the list of options, I went in to the dealer on Tuesday and obtained a price estimate for an A6 Avant. Sarah and I went back today to ask some final questions and place the order.

The car will be manufactured in week 51 of this year, but won’t be registered in The Netherlands until 2006. In this country, it’s the registration paperwork — not the build date — that people look at when determining the age of the car. Crazy, but true.

Anyway, we should be able to pick the car up some time in the second half of January, which suits us very well. We even took home a set of car manuals so we can start to figure out how all the features work. I’ll be lucky if I’ve finished reading it all by the end of January.

Oh, Vorsprung durch Technik means ‘advantage by technology’, by the way. It’s very similar in Dutch: voorsprong door techniek.

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Sleepers to Switzerland

It’s time to take another trip.

At the end of 2004, friends of ours, a Liechtensteiner and a Swiss, moved back to Zürich from Mountain View. Roman was a colleague of mine. Technically, he still is, since he now works for Google in Switzerland and I’m officially also still an employee, albeit on sabbatical. (Incidentally, Google has agreed to extend my sabbatical by a further three months, so I will now remain an employee until at least the beginning of February 2006.)

Anyway, before Carine and Roman left for Switzerland, we discussed our plans to return to Amsterdam in the summer of 2005 and vowed to visit them before the end of that year. With the end of 2005 fast approaching, it was high time to make good on our pledge, so we went up to Centraal Station today and booked our seats on the night-train for the end of this month. We’ll stay with Carine and Roman for six days.

This should be a lot of fun. I’ve never been to Switzerland before, so that will be another country to add to my list. For Eloïse, it will be her sixth country within seven months of life, which seems pretty good for someone who can’t even speak or control her own bladder yet. If only she were old enough to realise how well-travelled she is! Actually, I shouldn’t even really count Belgium, as she has only passed through it on the train on the way to/from France and for a few minutes when we went to the Drielandenpunt with Geoff. Even Germany’s a stretch, as we were only in Aachen for a few hours.

We decided to travel first class, which is something we never do on planes, but it’s a lot of fun on trains. Our compartment will have its own toilet and shower, as well as two spacious beds. You get a glass of wine when you board the train and are served breakfast in your compartment in the morning. We’re spoiling ourselves, but what’s life without a little luxury?

.ch, here we come!

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Neighbours, Everybody Needs Good Neighbours

We finally met the current owners of our new home yesterday, which was very nice. They were kind enough to crack open a bottle of champers to celebrate our new home/their receiving a huge pile of cash.

It turns out that they didn’t really want to move until next April, so we’re kicking them out quite early, just a month from now, and they haven’t yet found alternative accommodation. They’re going to move into a furnished house while they look around for a house to buy? Sound familiar? Although they have all their own furniture, they don’t want to move it all into a temporary place, so they’re going to put it into storage.

After the champagne., we walked through the house while they pointed out various articles that we can take off their hands, if we’re interested. There are a few items on the list that would be convenient to have, but I think we’ll mostly be buying our own stuff when we move in.

It was St. Maarten’s Day yesterday, so while we were at the house, the neighbours and their children came a-knocking, lanterns in hand. They have four children, including three young girls, so Eloïse’s going to have plenty of friends at her new location.

The new neighbours seem really nice. They immediately invited us to a big neighbourhood get-together at their house, which will be happening the evening of the day we move in. That will be a lovely, warm welcome to the neighbourhood.

Finally, it was time to leave. Wiesje puked on the floor of the basement as if to say, “This is my place now”, and then we were on our way.

As we biked home through the Vondelpark, we could see children everywhere, lantern in hand, making their way down the streets, knocking on doors and asking for sweets and other treats. Just a few years from now, we’ll be doing the same thing with our daughter. What fun that will be!

Today was spent shopping for more furniture. I think we’re going to cool it on the furniture now, wait until we take possession of the house and then just bring in an interior designer. I feel overwhelmed by the huge number of designs, styles, heights, lengths, etc. plus the need to coordinate all of the various items with each other, the walls, the floors and the general ambience of the room. Neither Sarah nor I really know our arse from our elbow in this regard, so we need an expert.

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Public Property

Even to someone like me, it’s shocking how much information is publically available on-line. Becoming an amateur private detective is getting easier all the time.

Case in point: our new house. I wanted to know who our new neighbours were, so I requested the ownership records for the parcels of land on either side of our new house.

This ended up costing me €2.83 per house, so the information’s not free, but it is publically available. At this stage, I already know the names of our neighbours and the amount they each paid for their respective houses; this in spite of the fact that the owner of the house to the right of us hasn’t even moved in yet.

Armed with this information, I turn to — what else? — Google. By now, everyone has heard of the concept of googling prospective boy- and girlfriends. Naturally, the technique works equally well for any other type of human-being.

Within seconds, I’ve found a genealogical site with details of my right-hand neighbour’s children and wife. I know the number of children he has, their names, where they were born and even the names of his wife’s parents. The only barrier to my discovering more is the speed at which I can read and assimilate the information.

After a couple of minutes, I know my right-hand neighbour’s current job and employer, as well as his last two places of work. I also know a couple of locations where he has lived in the past. To top it off, I have a photo of the man, so I’ll recognise him the first time that I see him.

Now it’s the turn of the left-hand neighbour. I can’t find anything about the man of the house, but the lady of the house starts popping up all over the place. She has quite a public function and I realise I’ve probably seen her on local TV.

What about the current owner of the house we’re buying? Of course, I’d already done the research on this person as soon as I discovered his name in the draft copy of the deed of sale I was sent for review. He turned out to have had quite an impact on the world, having invented something that has gone on to become ubiquitous in first-world households.

You’ll notice that I don’t tell you what he invented, nor what my left-hand or right-hand neighbours do for a living. Why? In a word: privacy. Yes, this is all public information, but it’s one thing for me to do the research to satisfy my own curiosity and quite another for me to dump the results in my blog and reveal people’s identity and the location of their private residence.

Along the same lines, although I also googled the address of our new house and was able to piece together which businesses had been run from there before the property was converted into a house, I can’t be specific about what I discovered without revealing its location. In fact, there’s probably already enough information in this entry for a determined researcher to start their own investigation and ultimately uncover the facts. Not that I terribly mind people knowing where I live; there are a lot of nutters running around, but what are you going to do? Hide? Nevertheless, not everyone is as comfortable with the idea.

As time goes by, this trend of people, who, once upon a time, could expect to remain all but anonymous, becoming unwitting public figures, is likely to continue. If you ever speak at a conference, write for a magazine with an on-line presence, talk to a reporter, hold a public function or simply rise to the top of your profession, the chances are that your identity can be ascertained and various facts about your life pieced together. Google, public records and a little bit of patience are all that’s required.

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