So far, dear readers, I have presented many savoury (and mostly fried!) variations of Dutch cuisine. Today we’re going to talk about the afternoon – and the nice habit of ordering a piece of cake with your coffee on the way.
My colleague BCO, who in February in his article “Too much bloody choice!” shared with us his traumatic experience of ice cream selection in the Ben & Jerry’s factory, should be delighted in Dutch cafes, because often the selection consists only of “appeltaart with cream” and “appeltaart without cream”. Life can be so simple!
The Harlequin team says goodbye for the summer holidays. We wish you and ourselves a great time – and lots of inspiration for new contributions. Once again this year we‘ll publish a short article every Friday during the holidays, this time with the motto “Snapshots en route”. Here the first one:
When the trees wear surgical masks…
… you stop in fascination when strolling by. I am often out and about in the woods in all seasons, this was my first encounter with this trend in nature.
In my series on Dutch “specialities” I have so far owed you the frikandel. That will change today.
The frikandel is the most commonly consumed fried snack in the Netherlands (it even beats croquettes and bitter bal!s) and the first thing you need to know about it is that it has absolutely nothing to do with the German Frikadel!e (For the unitiated: the Frikadelle is a kind of fried meatball) The frikandel is a kind of sausage without skin and for many years it was considered a “guilty pleasure”, because all sorts of questionable ingredients were attributed to it. Among other things, it was said to have cow’s eyes, ears and udders.
The author of the following article is Caterina Berger. She works as a freelancer for the translation agency Linguation in the field of content creation and online marketing. She majored in Japanese Studies and is working towards a doctorate in General Linguistics. Her favourite area is sociolinguistics and intercultural communication. We are pleased to have her as a guest author.
Admittedly, my title is not exactly original, but there are good reasons for that. In fact it is hard to describe life as a translator more accurately. Between clients who question every syllable of their ten-year-old internship testimony and those who would like to have their 500-page dissertation translated into Chinese by the end of the week, we have the pleasure of coping with unpaid invoices, unclear instructions and corrupt file formats.
During my exchanges with friends about the Corona restrictions in our countries of residence and the way in which these are communicated to the citizens, I have found that we have a trump card here in the Netherlands that is not to be found in any other country: We have Irma!
Up to now, some of my colleagues have worked from home because they wanted to do it themselves (and sometimes their managers had to be convinced). Those who received management blessing then took special care to appear just as professional from home as from the office – or even more professional. The webcam background was checked for telltale elements that could allow conclusions to be drawn about private life, and any acoustic disturbances were also eliminated. It is better to sweat with the window closed than to risk the noise of the nearby carnival penetrating through the phone.
And all this is – at least in my experience – suddenly quite different…
I told you about the “eco etiquette” and my attempt to reduce my own
ecological footprint. In the meantime I have changed a number of processes and
products in my everyday life and I am still in the process of finding out how
big its effect might be. It is a complex undertaking… For some issues it is
made easy for me: there is a credible book, an expert or a reputable website
that can help. In other areas it is more complicated.
of this is the matter of how you would like to organize your parting from the
Earth. Is there an “green” burial? You start at the end, so to speak,
but everyone has to consider it eventually, so why not now? In addition to the
relevant literature, I discovered a fascinating source of information on this
subject: the local crematorium organised an open day.
While sorting through my mother’s estate, I came across the “Öko-Knigge” ecological etiquette guide (unfortunately not translated into English). Rainer Griesshammer’s book was published in 1984, and I gave it to her sometime in the 80s as a birthday present – which proves that the admonishing index finger was not only pointed from mother to daughter, but also vice versa.