Getting to know the neighbors

British friends have been working on my use of emotive words.  ‘Sad’ means distressed, ‘Concerned’ translates as very worried, ‘disappointed’ as deeply hurt.  Whatever impact I think a word has, it amps up considerably when heard by British (and some Dutch) ears.

If I want to put stress onto a feeling, I tend to add great or really.  Locally, though, ‘Great’ is an eyeroll at the end of the sentence (“I’m serving raw liver tonight,”  Great.) and ‘Really’ is an eyebrow raise (“I like raw liver,”  Really?).  These intents also hold as adjectives, so That’s a great idea! and I’d really like that! carry ironic rather than enthusiastic meanings.

The learning curve will be similar with my new Greek housemates.

Emily the ballet dancer and Adonis the chef (every 61-year-old needs a pair like this) arrived Thursday, quickly settling into the Lemon Room across the hall.  They cook together in a local restaurant significantly elevating the kitchen smells at dinnertime here in Parkstone.  ‘not a lot of English, so communication includes enough gestures and smiles to see us through getting to know one another’s backgrounds, schedules, and habits.

I drove them in to work this morning along the way to pick up bread and batteries in Lilliput: it was spitting rain and everyone was a bit pressed because the clocks jumped ahead.  The Quay was dotted with early morning joggers and rowers, the historic inns and warehouses bolted against the wind, boats silent;y bobbing at dock nearby.

  

‘Quay’, of course, is pronounced key along this coast, and I took an early walk beneath the grey skies, Unsettled in the words of the Met Office, who add that heavy rain and coastal gales are expected shortly.

Really,   Great.

It’s all in the telling

One of our investors came by our offices recently, expecting the worst.  Communication had been sporadic and the company was definitely falling behind its milestones.  A planned fundraising was delayed; cash runway had been a concern for months.

Behind the scenes, though, really capable people had been beavering away on unexpected and difficult problems.  We had a few lucky breaks as experts came alongside with exactly the knowledge and connections that was needed.  A glimmer of a solution was starting to appear.

“So, I know the general outline – fill in some details for me?”

I’m proud of what’s been accomplished: we have a great story to tell. 

Anomalous results on a routine test last fall alerted us that something unexpected was happening in the base silicone….Two hypotheses explain the measurements…the first, although easier to try, led nowhere – we lost two months…the second was delayed by access to catalysts and resins – suppliers didn’t know us, didn’t trust us…At the same time, we found an alternative material with the properties we needed…We finally acquired the materials… We finally acquired the rights…We lost two quarters…We’re back on track…

Our investor pushed back.  “Plan A still sounds like something we’d invest in… Plan B is confusing, I’ll need to study it more...We’ll have questions…overall direction…timing…focus…”  Then it was done; he was off.

We had a great story to tell.  Why didn’t that come across?

That same day, a friend happened to have sent me a link to an blog post at the Harvard Business Review by Kate Minshew.  Titled “Every Entrepreneur’s Least Favorite Question”, it outlines the proper response to the query “How are things going?”  

Her advice is:

• Highlight two recent accomplishments,
• Talk about one problem you’re working on,
• Talk about what’s different than 3 or 6 months ago, and
• Ask for advice.

The article is really an epiphany:  I had blown all four guidelines and, so, had failed to tell an understandable or compelling story.   What I wanted him to understand was that we had A, we were getting B, an that one or the other leads to the C that we promised: the team did a great job for the investors.  From my narrative, he likely understood that 1) we had problems, 2) the solution was hard, 3) we were casting about for a backup, and so 4) the original plan was toast.

Live and learn.

I think that this guidance also holds for expats, who face the inevitable question “How’s it going?” (or variants like “How do you like it here?”).

I’ve filed my visa renewal, after I found the new KvK offices up in Sittard.  With the nicer weather, I’ve take a couple of long cycles towards Spa.  Things are great:  I’ve passed the Dutch reading exam and am working to get the other three done in November.  I do have one question though: One of my creditors is a bit slow in paying, do you know who I might talk with who’s been through a similar situation?

Okay, I can’t write dialog…but I think it’s good to have talking pints in mind. I will for the next investor visit.

For more on storytelling, take a look at

Pixar’s 22 rules of storytelling, and

This American Life’s Ira Glass on YouTube

Een redelijk onschuldige handeling

I didn’t get to bed until late last night.  The long Easter weekend allows for some uninterrupted quiet time to catch up with a few big jobs, so I was hunched at my desk until midnight, summarizing data for an upcoming anesthesiology meeting, preparing my first quarter VAT returns, and getting business cards scanned into my address book.

All delightful jobs, to be sure.

Which I why I laid in for a rare hour of idleness this morning, avoiding work, reading Youp van ‘t Hek’s collection of essays, Klein Gelijk, and listening to This Week in Google.

Yes, the two are incongruous, but they will come together in a moment.

No, if you were here, I would be more likely to be making buttered-eggs with lemon for breakfast instead of reading.

And, yes, I work too hard.

So, I’m reading Bejaardengevangenis (the title’s irony is not lost on me)  when Gina Trapani chirps in my ear that good things are happening with Google Translate.  I’m way ahead of you, I smiled, having previously blogged that Dutch dictionaries could now be downloaded for offline use.

If you speak a sentence it can translate it, transcribe it, and say it, corrected Gina.

No way.  I pulled up Translate on my Nexus.

“I go to the store”.  Ik ga naar de winkel, immediately returned, along with a credible verbalization.

“I’m going to be late for my meeting.” Ik kom te laat voor mijn afspraak.

“I’m looking for a book of postmodern philosophy.”  Ik ben op zoek naar een boek van postmoderne filosofie.

My tablet was pulling ahead of me now.  I felt a bit like the Swiss AI researcher in The Fear Index who discovers that his computer has become smarter than he is.

I reversed the languages.

“Ik ga naar de winkel.”  I go to the store.

“Het gevolg van een redelijk onschuldige handeling,” reading from ‘t Hek.  Gibberish returned.

I fiddled with the pronunciation, word by word.  I spoke with too much o, not enough u on onschuldige, not enough separation between words, wrong syllable emphasis on handeling.

Bit by bit, it fell into place.

It’s no substitute for a good teacher, but it’s not far from being a fantastic interactive learning tool.  And it’s all free.

And with the morning’s fun concluded, I’m off to sample my Paasbrood…

Naar mijn toets

I’ve been laying into the Dutch lessons over the past week.  There’s not really any expectation that I can pass the NT2-I test, but I’m going to give it my best effort. 

In some ways, it reminds me taking the driving test when I was 16.  I aced the written part, but the road test was pretty grim first time out.  I signaled wrong, hit the curb parking, generally got flustered and defensive in traffic.  The second time was almost perfect, ‘third was the charm.

We are allowed three tries at the Dutch Proficiency exam each year, so there’s similar stakes here.  Pass what I can, get acquainted with the routine, be properly ready the next time around.   So, Day 1 (schriven, spreken) rolled in today.  And, as with the driver’s test, it was mostly good, only partly disastrous.

The test is administered at an exam center across from the Eindhoven rail station.  Check-in was gratifyingly straightforward: join the right line and get a locker for your computer and mobile phone, then wait to be called.  There were lots of trashy pulp magazines in Dutch to read.   There were also a lot of students, mostly for the inburgering exam, overwhelmingly female, middle-aged, scarved, and optimistic.  I suspect that most prepared more single-mindedly than I did.

Again, I regretted that I was among the four taking the NTT2-I exam and not the A2 as I should have. 

Next time…the right test.

We got called in at 10 to begin the writing test.  There were two sub-tests, each an hour long with a 10 minute break between. I was surprised that both a Dutch and Dutch/English dictionary were allowed.  The proctor spoke flawlessly clear Dutch – I understood every word.  Confidence was building

The first test was short answer, most of the 13 questions were relentlessly focused on finding and holding a job.  Write an email to a colleague, explain an absence, send advice to the director, ask a neighbor to *please* give her cat to the vet next time she goes on vacation.

The second test was essay: only three questions.  Sort out a vacation schedule where everyone gets three weeks off in summer but there must be two people I the store at all times (I was still marveling that there was a mandatory three weeks) .  Write an article for the newspaper about your work as an animal keeper (using all of the pictures), telling what you find best, worst, and most interesting about your job.  Explain to the director why you are too busy to finish your work (using the pictures) and propose a solution.

The nice thing about the writing test was that I was actually pretty close to being able to do it.

Not so the 1-hour speaking test an hour later.

I expected that we’d be asked to parrot sentences: instead we were given 13 short and 10 long scenarios.  Each had a question followed by 20-40 seconds to respond.  I understood the scenario and the question without a problem, but framing and composing an answer was completely beyond me in 20 seconds.

Helplessly, question after question streamed by.  I was acutely aware of the woman behind me speaking and the proctors listening.  I was failing big-time. 

So, as it ended I took off the headphones and said “I quit”, and got up to leave.  The proctor struggled, in Dutch, to tell me to stay and put the headphones back on.  I struggled, in English, to say I’d had enough and was out of here.

I had thought that the lady behind the desk with headphones was getting ready to have conversations.  It turned out that they were only asking me to check that my name had been properly recorded.

I was completely freaked and only wanted *out*.  Nu.

In the end, we sorted it (in Dutch), but I was upset with myself and with the whole process.   It’s clear where my future study has to focus: korte vragen en antwoorden.

Two more tests tomorrow: lezen en luisteren.  Those should be fine, fingers crossed that I don’t do something foolish.

Again.

I have to reflect that, as Americans, we have absolutely no idea of what it means to be an immigrant.  And that’s ironic for a nation that was founded on the idea.

And it’s damn hard sometimes.

At least I have my 2013 IND process complete, and (during the lunch break) got my new residence card in hand.

Threatening performance

Mijn nieuwe auto heeft een groene motor en hemelsblauw lichaam.

My teacher frowned.  Groene motor?

Ecologische.

Ah, en het ‘lichaam’?

I groped for the right word for a “body” that wasn’t made of living tissue as lichaam was.  I sketched a car and we went around the parts, naming each in turn.  But “body”…

Het is maar een blauwe auto.  Maar u spreekt beter.

I was distracted, drawing the car, naming the parts, getting the articles right.  And that may have been just enough to improve my Dutch performance.

Let me typisch digress.

I was listening to a piece on NPR last week: the issue was “Why are the sciences male-dominated?”  A researcher taped thousands of interactions of male and female scientists and found that women sounded less confident talking about their research with men.  It didn’t happen with women, nor with non-research topics with men.  There was no difference in how men addressed colleagues of either sex.

The psychologists attribute the cause to stereotype threat: that women believe that they are being judged as less capable by male colleagues.  They reserve a small portion of their attention to monitor and second-guess their own conversation, decreasing their performance. 

The worry becomes a self-fulfilling outcome.

Back to Dutch.  I know that I become self-conscious when I try to speak Dutch: I watch what I do more carefully, speak more slowly, certainly appear less capable.  A couple of weeks ago, I joined Jules for dinner: she has been making great progress towards completing her NT2 while I am still plodding forward. Ordering dessert, I wanted mine without whipped cream.  I thought about it and offered geen slagroom: she and the waitress both corrected zonder slagroom.  Of course it is, but I talked myself out of it by over-thinking it.

Stereotype threat.

I think that the Dutch encourage this problem: their language is not as difficult as many, but they constantly remind you how hard it can be to learn.  I think it reinforces a bias away from trying: when I need to conduct business I have to communicate and I know that they will understand my English better than I can express ideas in Dutch.

I think this is why mu Dutch Buddy arrangement is working so well. Every day that I am in Maastricht, we spend an hour talking.  Most nights when I’m out of town, I write her a letter.  And I don’t worry about getting it wrong, the little voice shuts down, and I perform better.

Stereotype Threat is a defense that probably crops up in many guises for most expats.  Recommended interventions include raising awareness of the effect, convincing people that effort leads to success, thinking about a positive aspect of yourself before engaging, and building a sense of belonging through other means.  A shot of whisky may also help.

And, a day later, my teacher and I both confirmed that an auto body is de carrosserie.  Unfortunately, both of us found that only our male vrienden knew that.

Life’s paintball games

Paintballing with Hezbollah describes western journalists’ attempt to understand the Lebanese military situation by engaging in, well, a paintball skirmish under a Beirut shopping mall.  It’s pretty good reading: unsurprisingly the terrorists cheat, bringing in flash grenades and capturing journalists for human shields (I’m not making this up).  Still, the journalists battle to a draw and get their insights (distasteful as some of it is).

I feel a bit the same way this this week, taking on two of my favorite shibboleths: Health insurance and Dutch lessons.

The health insurance crisis was precipitated by letters from our provider saying a) they were still struggling with the coding of a claim from my surgery in Lugano three years ago, and b) that they were going to drop my daughter off of our health insurance at the end of the month.

Now, I’ve spent years exchanging mail and engaging with my long suffering Italian friends to facilitate BCBSs claims processing for Lugano.  My daughter had the misfortune to graduate college, at which point she become ineligible for my policy.

And I pay these folks $2500 / month, out of my own earnings, for this abuse.

I think we found solutions: the Swiss can’t find any outstanding claims and my daughter is continuing as a full time student, but we were honestly facing collectors and Medicaid, respectively.  I ended up returning to the new Affordable Care Act (ACA) to see what happened to the maxim that dependent children stay on policies until they are 26.

The act makes interesting reading: there is nothing in there that should raise anyone’s ire.  Even free-market Forbes calls it “little more than a successful effort to put an end to some of the more egregious health insurer abuses while creating an environment that should bring more Americans into programs that will give them at least some of the health care coverage they need”.

It is amazing (and stupid) that people should be so viscerally opposed to this law when they more likely support every policy buried inside it.

My year of Dutch study hasn’t produced stellar outcomes either.  I’m unquestionably better (and accelerating), but it takes time and persistence.  The inburgering has turned out to be wholly impractical, focused on job-search skills and classroom-centered.  Last night I found that my access to the online tutorials had been cancelled, six months ahead of expiration.

What (I think) I need is a way to have more conversations, in writing and in person, to supplement my reading newspapers and listening to broadcasts.  Friends have lives too: it’s not practical to impose hours of practice on them.  But I chanced onto an instructor who charges 7.50euro per hour to just sit and talk, correcting pronunciations and engaging in spontaneous give-and-take.

It’s working out very well.  When I’m in Maastricht, I go see her daily.  Otherwise, we write emails each evening.  Sometimes there’s a structured assignment, other times a discussion of a news story.  But it’s giving me a good leg up on composing a thought and expressing it, the hardest thing I’ve struggled with.

I think I must be the only American who comes to the Netherlands and pays for an hour with a Dutch woman just so that I can talk with someone.  My friends joke that it’s an over-50 thing.

A couple of other resources to consider (I buy and use all three myself, nobody asked or induced me to write this):  None are particularly expensive, all have demo modes that you can use for free to try the product.

 

vTrain:  A flashcard trainer – you can load it with your own word lists and oefenen, oefenen, oefenen.

Verbix: This is a web-based or desktop verb conjugation tool, great for composing zin using toen instead of dan.

Babylon:  A pop-up desktop translator that includes all three Van Dale handbooks.

And, as a bonus, Scientific American reports that translating a problem into another language may improve the quality of decision-making.

Okay, back to life’s paintball games…

‘been a week…

With days consumed by Dutch classes and nights dedicated to work, everything else has suffered a bit, from correspondence to blogs.  Still, it was a productive week in Maastricht and good to catch up with friends and activities.

I have really been working on vocabulary; drilling into The Green Book (The Delftse Methode), setting up my VTrain flashcard program for Dutch, and compiling a list of new words.  I got the core elements of the first ten chapters of the green book entered along with works that I’m noting from class, e-learning, and newspapers, about 2000 in all, so far. (I’m happy to share them if anyone is trying to do the same and doesn’t want to replicate the work; I’ll probably donate the set to VTrain when I’m done).

It’s making a difference.  I’m doing a newspaper each day and I can see a difference in what I can do, week to week.  Where I was struggling with a couple of words per sentence, I’m now down to a couple of words per paragraph. 

I’m also writing daily paragraphs to my Dutch neighbor, which she corrects and sends back to be.  It’s about ten sentences on whatever topic is of interest that day ( but more of a Tumblr-post than a blog entry).  Again, it makes a difference: I’m getting to where I can pick words and phrase thoughts so that I can express them.

Friday, we each had an in-class assignment to compose a tour of Maastricht for a hypothetical group of 20 people, then read it out loud and take questions.  It had to have meals, attractions, costs, times…I quickly ran into complications like We will meet (ontmoeten) then we will meet again (treffen) that were wholly new to me, but support things I tend to say all the time.  I was really happy with the progress – the class is still ahead of me by a few chapters, but I’m holding my own.

What if everyone learned Dutch?

  BBC Radio hosts a weekly segment during the Forum roundtable called “60-second Ideas to Change the World”.  Recently, Dutch-born author Ian Buruma proposed that everyone should learn Dutch as their first foreign language, worldwide, no exceptions.

His argument was that it has a rich literature, it is spoken by many people, and that nobody can take exception to learning it because the Netherlands is so small.

The panel debating the proposition suggested that there were other small, inoffensive countries (Ian noted that most alternatives don’t have as much to read), or that there were more useful languages (Hindi, Arabic, Chinese).

And, before you dismiss the idea entirely, watch UK Deputy PM Nick Clegg in action (around minute 1:40).  He has a Dutch mother, who he credits with giving him fluency, and a degree of skepticism about the entrenched class configurations in British society which helped guide him towards becoming a liberal.

Anglo-Dutch translation guide

What the British say.	What the British mean.	What the Dutch understand.
I hear what you say.	I disagree and do not want to discuss it any further.	He accepts my point of view.
With the greatest respect…	I think you are wrong (or a fool).	He is listening to me.
That’s not bad.	That’s good or very good.	That’s poor or mediocre.
Quite good	A bit disappointing	Quite good
Perhaps you would like to think about… / I would suggest…	That is an order. Do it or be prepared to justify yourself.	Think about the idea, but do what you like.
When appropriate locally…	Do what you like.	Do it if you can.
Oh, by the way… / Incidentally…	The primary purpose of our discussion is…	This is not very important.
I was a bit disappointed that… / It is a pity you…	I am most upset and cross.	It doesn’t really matter.
Very interesting…	I don’t agree / don’t believe you.	They are impressed.
Could we consider some more options?	I don’t like your idea.	They have not yet decided.
I’ll bear it in mind.	I will do nothing about it.	They will probably do it.
Please think about that some more.	It’s a bad idea; don’t do it.	It’s a good idea; keep developing it.
I’m sure it’s my fault.	It is your fault !	It was their fault.
That is an original point of view.	You must be crazy.	They like my ideas !
You must come for dinner sometime.	Not an invitation, just being polite.	I will get an invitation soon.
You’ll get there eventually.	You don’t stand a chance in hell.	Keep on trying for they agree I’m heading in the right direction.
I almost agree.	I don’t agree at all.	He’s not far from agreement.

posted on my office wall by the prior tenant.

Group membership and speaking Dutch

On a recent episode of the BBC Radio podcast From Our Own Correspondent (Oct 31 2008), Henri Astier discussed the tensions between Dutch and French speakers in the Flemish region surrounding Brussels.  Its a short segment and worth a listen if you’ve ever wondered how the whole language partition / cooperation thing works in Belgium.    Honestly, it sounds like the answer is “Not too well”.

Mr. Astier also commented on the almost supernatural gift that the Dutch seem to have with speaking other languages.  He notes that there is nowhere else on earth where a group of people will switch out of their native tongue in order to accommodate the only non-fluent speaker in the room. It can be a bit eerie: the Dutch will effortlessly switch languages in mid-conversation, swinging as a group into Dutch for a sidebar or a joke that won’t translate, then, without any apparent cue, back into English again.

I think this is extraordinarily polite, and I’ve always appreciated the courtesy.  Even though my colleagues rationalize that few people speak Dutch, that Dutch is hard to learn, or that they’ve had to learn English to get along in the world, it’s not something that they have to do in their own country.  Most people in other countries don’t.

There may also be secondary advantages for the native Dutch.  The limited scope for the language cements the Dutch community together, promoting a Netherlands heritage and building an identity. It gives them a way to talk more familiarly and privately in mixed groups.  It serves to instantly distinguish visitors from native- and permanent-residents.  Sometimes I wonder if the maxim that “Dutch is hard to learn” is partly a canard, a way to discourage casual membership in the Netherlands group.

Of course, on the days that I’m actually working to learn Dutch, I am a true believer that it is, indeed, hard.

Image credit arnhem.nl

LifeScripting at the MoA

I spent Saturday at the Mall of America (MoA, above) picking up some clothes and sundries before headed back to Arnhem on the evening flight. The Mall was absolutely packed from parking lot to walkways, stores to restaurant. I didn’t think that the Christmas season had really started, and had heard that stores were emptied by the financial crisis, but there was no evidence of it in Minneapolis (below).

I bought a sweater as a gift, a shirt, and a couple of pairs of pants that I needed: simple things. The exchanges with the clerks played out along familiar lines, the type of scripted exchange that Artificial Intelligence types studies for years trying to make computers smarter and more sociable.

I need some black casual slacks. The clerk presents a few choices. What is the range of prices? From reasonable to ridiculous. Let’s try a 32-32. The clerk caches my shopping bags and shows me to the fitting room. No, too tight in the waist; how’s the seat? Try these instead. Perfect: do you have a charcoal wool slack as well? Yes, but sizes run different. Let’s bring up the tailor…when can they be ready…I’ll be through town in mid December to pick them up. Do you have a Bloomingdales card..25% discount on top of the 20% markdown. Perfect, I won’t need a box, thanks.

Along the way, I was translating phrases into Dutch to see how I would have kept up if I went to the V&D or elsewhere. It wasn’t pretty.

The actual phrases aren’t too difficult, simple declarative sentences with second-week vocabulary for the most part:

Ik hoef enkele zwarte incidentele broeken. De griffier presenteert een aantal keuzes. Wat is het prijsgamma? …

Even so, the casual exchanges in Dutch can go too quickly for me to parse, or contain a few words that are unfamiliar and hang me up. I’ve learned to try to get the gist of the sentence and not necessarily translate every word, but if the conversation goes in an unexpected direction, that can cause me to lose the flow.

Further, I know that the literal translation of scripts may not yield culturally correct exchanges. I now expect to be greeted with “Are you okay?” in London (which sounds like “Do you have a problem?” to American ears), rather than “Can I help you? (Identical in the Dutch “Kan ik u helpen"?”). I can’t really spot the cultural flaws in my literal translation of the MoA script without going through the process of buying pants in the Netherlands.

Finally, there is the high-level problem of getting the process and measures correct. What is Euro-equivalent to a 32-32? Is it appropriate to ask for the tailor? Can I fill in a credit card application to get a further discount? I have to observe others, read signs, do trial-and-error, and ask lots of questions to get these things right, and I learn, but it complicates and slows the transaction.

In the end, I buy pants at the MoA because I can handle all levels of the lifescript fluently. My goal in learning Dutch is to be able to buy pants at all of these levels, not just the literal translation. It means getting out there and interacting a lot more with real-life than I’ve been doing in Arnhem. I’m signing up for more aggressive conversation courses in Maastricht through work, and am making a resolution to stumble ahead with my Dutch more often. It will slow life down, but I think it’s going to be the only way to really learn it all (vs. todays’ strategy of reading De Gelderlander every day).

Lost in translation

1) Is it a good thing when the Dutch tell you

You are able to ask very penetrating questions about things that you don't understand.

2) I'm having a discussion with my HR rep about my decision to give an employee a raise. He was at 84% of market value, and company policy is is to be at least 90%. So I proactively approved a raise of 6%. My rep started debating whether the employee might think it is too little, or too late, or should be retroactive, or....

My knee-jerk reflex was

It's a gift: he should be pleased...

which, of course, led to a discussion about why we would give anyone a raise as a gift.

<sigh> This phrase is typically American, but very difficult to translate. It kind of means windfall or a surprise, but not an undeserved one. It's certainly not a literal 'gift'.

3) The Dutch Word of the Day today was vogelvrij, which means "outlaw" in the Netherlands.

Debate ensues. In the US, "outlaw" has taken on a sort of romantic connotation (think 'Butch Cassidy') which the Dutch say is definitely not a part of vogelvrij. I would think that it is more like 'outcast', which the Dutch vigorously deny. They try explain that it designates someone that everyone is allowed to treat badly: is there an English word for that?

They have suggested that perhaps 'homeless' is more apt...?

Druk, druk, druk

The Dutch Word of the Day often seems remarkably apt: it produced "Piekeren" (to worry, to brood, to ponder) on the days that we were having a management offsite to ponder company strategy, and, true to form, it suggested learning to use "Druk" (busy, crowded) during this week.

The busy-ness was caused by the arrival of our corporate VP-Research and a senior product planner from the US. Normally, these visits by executive management are boardroom sessions, all suits, ties, PowerPoints and seriousness. They are formatted, rehearsed, and choreographed to within a minute of every hour, with clear objective statements up front and polite "Thank you" graphics at the end. Thus, the days leading up to the visit involve planning, preparation, and still more meetings.

In contrast, this visit turned out to be two days of genuine fun. The VP-Research is a refreshing (and sometimes frustrating) iconoclast: he refused to ride business class on the plane, and took the trains out from Schiphol to Arnhem (despite a shoulder with a torn rotator cuff, awaiting surgery next month). He hates being confronted with management presentations; he'd rather have the scientists serve up some data and spend an hour sifting his fingers through it to see what looks new or interesting. He hopped up on stage to argue that we need to give patients, not just doctors, a reason to want our implants, then suggested putting MP3 player, keyless automobile ignition, electronic point-of-sale payment, and subway pass capability into it.

All of this, or course, delights the technical folks and drives the product planners and executive staff nuts. So much the better. So, it was a fun agenda to plan: brainstorming sessions with the development teams, a presentation to challenge the thinking of the design groups, a working hour with each of the research scientists with experiments planned or data to show. I warned everyone to come prepared and to engage in some direct "give and take" (not that the Dutch need much encouragement): in the end, everyone had fun and it put some fresh air into the rooms.

I was listening to a radio essay yesterday that reflected on how every mythology includes a trickster: someone who breaks the rules and challenges the traditions. I don't want the job, myself, but I happily acknowledge the value that they bring.

"The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity."

- Dorothy Parker

"If we knew what we were doing it wouldn't be research."

- Albert Einstein

"By seeking and blundering we learn."

- Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Picture credit

Impacts of Language

Even though I'm not much good with learning languages, I believe that learning Dutch is a valuable path to joining the people and culture here. The Dutch are nice about it, saying that it's a tough language and that everyone speaks English (actually, the language is very straightforward and there are many times that I get caught in situations where little English is spoken)

So, I've put effort into it, spending two separate weeks with at the talen instituut Regina Coeli in Vught: a wonderful, intense experience in language immersion. I never learned so much so fast.

Nuns in Vught

The difficulty now comes from two directions. My Dutch is improving, but still fairly elementary, so I'm limited to conversations at about the second grade level. The Dutch people's English is much better, but we still talk at maybe the high school level. We both try to communicate clearly and slowly, avoiding misunderstanding. It isn't baby talk, but I am aware that we both 'dumb down' the language by avoiding big words, colloquialisms, catch phrases, technical terms, metaphors, and other subtleties.

In the end, isn't our personal ability to express and understand diminished by this? Do we actually lose fluency by always choosing only the easiest word and safest phrase to communicate thoughts? Over time, do we lose more? Remeber, Orwell said that if you can't express it, you can't think it...

Then there is the remarkable discovery by Juan Manuel Toro et al., who demonstrated that "rats sometimes cannot tell the difference between a person speaking Japanese backwards and a person speaking Dutch backwards", earning them the 2007 IgNobel prize for linguistics.

Maybe the rats just didn't care -- we all develop a skill for tuning things out now and then...