“Oh I know the Dutch are famous for being a cold people but that’s no excuse for treating you like some half-priced hooker in Amsterdam’s famous red-light district…”

Sue Sylvester, Glee

Last night I shared a long overdue cry with my Dutch fiancé as he cradled me in his arms. Through a series of years of impulsiveness, joy, pain, successes and yes, failures (one too many in the most recent past), I somehow landed here in the Netherlands.  It’s strange that we’ve decided to put up roots (at least for the next 5-7 years) in a place that I’ve never taken interest in and we both dislike in many ways. Maybe one can say that my expatriation to the Netherlands is irony at its best.

Now that I have finally settled here in the Low Countries (3 year anniversary in May 2010), I’m trying to reconnect with my old self who once looked at all aspects of life as an adventure and considered obstacles as mere challenges to overcome through patience, hard-work and faith.

I’ve spent the past two and half years constantly reminding myself that I didn’t invent anything that I’m going through and I definitely won’t be the last to go through it.  Out of personal respect for my fiancé, I will refrain from going into detail about all the traumatizing experiences I had in such a relatively short amount of time. Suffice to say, Sue’s quote hits very close to home. Rather than that magical 1 year adjustment period that most expats require, I needed double the time to finally feel at ease.

Along my expat journey I’ve learned one of the most important lessons of my life–how my outward attitude affects those around me. My perceived attitude and perhaps my own way of expressing my personal views (especially on this blog) have forged friendships with other kindred spirits as well as (more than likely) gotten under the skin of those not prepared with my occasional uncensored  honesty.  Honesty, after all, can be painful on both ends-from those receiving it and those delivering it. I’ve become more cognizant about how my own personal views and harsh criticism might be considered offensive and alienating. For my unintended audience who do not have any personal reference points,  forgive me. Write me an email and we’ll possibly meet up for coffee. My personal “comedies” in the Netherlands will provide you enough entertainment off-line.

In terms of my relationship with my fiancé, the moment I’ve stopped thinking out loud about leaving provincial Utrecht and become more vocal about how to make a life here,  the more peaceful our lives have become. Granted, during my lowest moments, he’s always tried his best to cheer me up and remind me of just why I left the comfort of my own home, my own country to join him thousands and thousands of miles away in a foreign land where almost everything is lost in translation. It doesn’t take much though for me to fall in love with him over and over again.  His simple smile.  His warm caress.  His enthusiasm for making me breakfast every morning. And even his grumpy, moody intolerable self when he’s tired. Or when he’s sick in bed needed to be nursed back to health. Those and so much more simple reasons that are more than enough to remind me just how lucky I am.

Being with him and being together are also enough to let me know that for now, this is where I belong. My home is where ever he is. I choose this. We choose this.

Growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, I’ve had the luxury and privilege (in retrospect) to believe that as long as I was a decent respectable person with a good head on her shoulders and sincere heart, I had the same rights and privileges as everyone else. Anyone living in the modern world should not feel like a second-class citizen objectified and presumed as an illiterate mail-order bride, au pair, or illegal domestic worker.  And even if there was some truth to a person’s lowly position in life, what right do other citizens have to make them feel less equal, less respected, less entitled to the benefits of a wonderful life?