A spokesman for Schiphol -- one of Europe's busiest airports -- said the vibrant blooms were a deterrent to birds damaging planes after being sucked into jet engines during landing or take off.

He said the mice and other rodents that some birds hunt were repulsed by the scent of tulip and daffodil bulbs and that without their prey, the winged predators would have little reason to frequent the area around the airport.

"It's a known fact that this works and it is certainly a more friendly way of getting rid of the birds than some other airports have employed," the spokesman said.

The airport reports approximately three bird strikes for every 10,000 landings and take-offs.

Daedalian Adventures

The road ahead is rarely straight…

By Lynelle Barrett

The Naked Truth

Last Saturday I went with my friend, Mika, to the Gemeente Museum Den Haag. We were lured by an exhibit of contemporary Dutch Fashion. Some of the garments were lovely…and some made me fearful of what we will be wearing in the future. There were some fascinating ideas for recycling. Now I know what to do with my old bedspreads and tube socks. One designer even displayed a life-size mannequin of a horse completely covered in a knitted sweater. And I always felt sorry for little dogs wearing sweaters. This took the concept to a whole new level.

There were also several other exhibits in the museum including one called The Naked Truth, Courbet and the Nineteenth Century Naked. The theme of the exhibit was the evolution from idealized nudes to realistic imagesof the human form. This sounded interesting, so we walked into the gallery. The first thing that greeted us was a large painting of a woman’s private parts…petticoats lifted, legs spread. Neither my friend, myself, or the other woman that walked in at the same time, expected this! We all looked at each other and started to laugh. “Well!” we thought, “This should be interesting!”

And it was. But after a while my friend was getting exhausted from trying to express her thoughts about the art in English. So she decided that she would speak in Dutch and I would speak in English. She said if we didn’t understand each other, we would just laugh. Amazingly enough, since we were discussing art and feelings, I understood most of what she said. I guess some things are universal.

But it doesn’t always work that well. Greek philosopher, Epictetus said, “If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid.”  Unfortunately, it’s not hard to look foolish and stupid when you live in a foreign country. Recently, I went to a friend’s birthday party. Halfway through the party, a guest arrived and shook hands with everyone. I assumed he was introducing himself, so I shook his hand and introduced myself. I later found out that it is a custom in Holland to congratulate the family of the person having the birthday. I would explain why, but I have no idea why. So I am sure I confused him and looked like an idiot in front of everyone there (as if I need any help looking like an idiot).

After that blunder, I was reluctant to attend a funeral service for one of my neighbors who died suddenly of a heart attack. I have no clue what the funeral customs are here and I imagine there are a multitude of ways I could offend grieving friends and family. So I stayed home.

Now that I have my visa, looking for a job occupies a lot of my time. Most job postings are in Dutch, so I spend hours with my Dutch/English dictionary translating job descriptions. Then I need to interpret. When they say they want someone “energetic” or “enthusiastic” or “hard-working”, what does that mean to a Dutch employer? The education system is different, so I had to figure out what my degree was equivalent to in the Dutch system. I am concerned about what is sure to be a difference in job interview etiquette. And, naturally, the whole idiot problem rears its ugly head again.

Lately I feel like one of the vampires in an Anne Rice novel. In her books, a newly made vampire has to experience a slow and painful death of its physical body to transform into a powerful creature of the night. I think that I will have to leave a part of my old self behind to learn to be comfortable here and accepted by others. This, too, is a slow and painful process.

Last week, I was having a glass of wine at my neighborhood pub when a group came in and sat next to me at the bar. After the usual interrogation about my nationality, one of the guys asked me how long I planned to stay in Holland. I said that I had shipped everything over here and was hoping to stay. He asked if I felt at home here yet, or did I miss America? I told him that I still felt like an outsider here, but I didn’t really miss America. He said that after living here for a year, I probably didn’t fit in there anymore either. He said, “You don’t really belong anywhere anymore, do you?” And I realized in such a short time a complete stranger had seen my naked truth.