By: Ivar Troost
It is a popular misconception that the Roggeveenhof Food Bazaar is solely a Facebook group. Indeed, a Facebook Group does exist carrying this banner; a group instated earlier this year in order to save almost-spoiling food in the building. This column is not about that Roggeveenhof Food Bazaar, though. The newly found meaning appears to cause a lot of unneeded confusion when casually mentioning the alternative phenomenon, and that is why I feel there is a need to enlighten the UCR student population regarding the original Roggeveenhof Food Bazaar. Please allow me to elaborate.
I can only extrapolate that this original Bazaar has existed from the moment UCR came to existence; the moment Roggeveenhof started to be inhabited by students. The moment I myself got wind of it must have been the first weeks of my UCR career. It is a phenomenon that happens not online, but rather is a real physical endeavor that passes my window. Each and every night.
Being a first-floor resident of Roggeveenhof, next to the entrance, I have over the course of the past 2+ years become an expert on the topic of the Food Bazaar. I feel that even though I do not study anthropology at UCR in an official capacity, I certainly do so in my own home. Each evening I observe a most peculiar ritual. At first it was only the sounds that were apparent to me, but when I started actually observing the situation from my window I found out a very intricate pattern.
At around 18.00-18.30 the vanguard of the parade arrives. The arrival of these carriers from various houses – Amore, Pizza Express Lijn, Dominoes – must have been carefully planned by students well in advance, (almost) on the dot for Dutch dinner time. These company representatives mostly come on scooters, sometimes in cars, and after arrival immediately rush to the doorbells. After typing in the correct number they proceed to wait for a few minutes in eager anticipation of a receiver. If you leave the building at this time you often catch a glimpse of them standing in front of the front door, uncomfortably balancing their boxes, nervously shuffling their feet in their eagerness to get to the next delivery as soon as possible.
Even more exciting it becomes when the clock hits 20.00. This is when the largest horde of food deliverers ring Roggeveenhof’s doorbells. I hypothesize that, facing a lack of time for actual cooking, the starving students of our building decide to hit the red alert button on www.thuisbezorgd.nl to ensure a safe travel in the All-Night Express – a train best not taken without some calories on-board!
And then there are those deliveries that arrive during the All-Night Express’ travel itself: the straggling night deliveries from 23.00 onwards that arrive during those Math and Stats homework sessions, LAN-parties or late-night philosophical discussions. Universally, though, the hazy-eyed student that initiates such trade requires some extra food to survive the long night. Sleep is not an option anymore at this stage.
I can only question such rituals from the comfort of my window, and I used to do so often over the past two years. Why order when you are on a student’s loan, and when you can make much healthier food in your own kitchen? But these days such questions have turned merely hypocritical in nature. I spoiled my track-record of never ordering food already quite some months ago. Of course I will never add to the Roggeveenhof Food Bazaar; it is enough of a festival as it is. I am afraid it might turn into a Roggeveenhof Food Jam otherwise, forcing Villex to get multiple doorbell panels installed. However, if you happen to live in Bachtensteene and wonder what that lone courier is doing at the side entrance of UCR… that might just be me. And, you know, sometimes it is fine to forego healthy food – to “stimulate the economy,” of course, not out of laziness. You all know how incredibly important the economy is, after all.
All that I am trying to tell you with this analysis is to take, at times, an extra look at those phenomena that surround us, and to think a bit deeper about those rituals we take for granted in our daily lives. Sometimes they are logical, beautiful or handy, sometimes peculiar, inefficient or plain weird. But whichever category it belongs to, one of those rituals surely is the Roggeveenhof Food Bazaar – one that will undoubtedly remain!
Ivar Troost, class of 2015, is a Computer Science, Theatre & Media Studies and Philosophy major from Wijchen, the Netherlands.
