There are people who know exactly how to eloquently express their own “cultural observations”. My friend Matthijs is one of them. Enjoy!

Matthij’s personal musings on “The UnDutchables” in his own words:

Colin White and Laurie Boucke wrote a great book in 1989 called “The UnDutchables” which, as they describe in their forward, is “a psychological survival kit for expats” or “the lowdown on Holland.” While reading it, I experienced at times the urge to cringe, to laugh, to cry and/or to throw the book across the room. It is so dead on in dissecting Dutch social mores that I even got defensive. But then I said to myself: “everyone here considers me American, so what do I have to worry about?” It’s handy to have dual nationality. That way I can always take credit for the good parts of America and Holland and disown the bad ones. As I always say when Dutch people ask me to which country I feel I belong: “When I hear Bruce Springsteen, I am American, when I see George Bush, I am Dutch.” 

Nevertheless, the book got me to thinking and I have come up with a new section of “truths” based on my own personal observations which the authors may consider inserting into an annex of one of their forthcoming periodic updates:

• In America, the baseline answer when one has been invited to a party is “yes”, even when one doesn’t intend to come. In Holland, the baseline answer is “no”, though they may surprise you and reconsider.
• Americans demonstrate that they trust you by sharing intimate details about their lives the very first time you meet them. Anyone who does in The Netherlands will be distrusted immediately. “If he is so loose with his own secrets,” they wonder, “how will he be with mine?”
• American nurses feel the patient’s pain. Dutch nurses think that by doing so, they will only make things worse.
• American drivers wave to other drivers who have treated them with courtesy. Dutch drivers will only sometimes wave if they are conscious of having been discourteous.
• In America, the customer is king. In Holland, a customer who acts like a king will quickly be treated as a pauper.
• Americans often greet their new next door neighbors, unannounced, with home-made cookies or some other dish from their kitchen. You only do this to your neighbors in Holland if you want to scare the shit out of them.
• It is still quite acceptable for the Dutch to scold misbehaving children not their own. Only Americans with high-powered lawyers would even dare such a thing.
• Though American women love talking about sex with all sorts of people, even men they have just met in a bar, they have lots of hang-ups when it comes to actually doing it. Dutch women have almost no hang-ups when doing it, but only share the details with their best girlfriends.
• In America, authoritarian managers are feared but can still be respected. In Holland, they are hated and quietly undermined.
• In America, the superficial friendship is the very oil on the gears of society. In The Netherlands, it is the cog on the wheel.
• Most Americans have a vague notion that religious leaders, whomever they may be, are persons worthy of respect. Most Dutch people have a vague notion that they deserve disrespect. Both are unsure about how to express this, however.
• The Dutch often describe themselves as being spontaneous, though they haven’t a fucking clue what that word means. Americans are naturally spontaneous and consequently almost never talk about it.
• The Dutch are jealous and thus disdainful the American’s natural openness. Americans familiar with Dutch culture are jealous and thus disdainful of their comforting homogeneity.
• An American receiving an unexpected generosity will offer profuse thanks followed by specific commitments regarding the repayment of their debt, which they will conveniently forget about later on. A Dutch person receiving the same will, if they can get away with it, not say a word of thanks, resenting already the implication that you have tried to put them in your debt. They will also very likely consider you an idiot from that point onwards.

picture courtesy of Bram’s iphone.

It’s that time of the year again. Yesterday, as Bram and I were enjoying a morning walk around the center of Utrecht, we happen to stumble upon Sinterklaas and his Zwarte Piets. After being here for almost two years, the sight of seeing Dutch people paint their faces black, wear bright red lipstick,  put on a woolly wig, and present themselves in 16th-century Spanish clown costumes still gets under my skin.

According to my insightful fellow Health Economist (senior consultant),

Indeed, air pollution is high in the Netherlands (especially in the Randstad, a geographic area consisting of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Utrecht). But…

The amount of air pollution is strongly and positivily correlated with life expectancy. Actually, it is quite good compared to other parts of Europe.

 You can even observe that in the Netherlands, the average life expectancy is highest in the Randstad. Conclusion…

Polluted air is good for your health. Even better if you live in the Randstad. 

I love my internship. 

It’s no secret that I am not particularly fond of the sound of “Dutch”.  I am not comfortable with the guttural sounding diphthongs, or the dramatically different sentence structures. Perhaps part of my road-block in learning Dutch also resides in my inherent fear of being trapped here forever and my persistent experiences with culture shock.

Learning a language doesn’t only require the memorization of different vocabulary, sentence structures and caveats, but also about being open to a different way of thinking, of being. I’m afraid that for the longest time, I didn’t want to think in Dutch. I didn’t want to try to become Dutch.

After all, no matter how much I culturally integrate, I will always be an “allochtoon”. For the language enthusiasts, its a combination of two Greek words that literally means “from another world”.

However, the longer I find myself staying (and settling) in the Netherlands, the more I find it embarrassing that I cannot have a proper conversation in Dutch. Plus, I’m also loosing my patience living life basically as a functioning illiterate. While I can read, write and converse in English, Tagalog, and Spanish (though a little rusty), I can’t seem to properly navigate as an independent adult in the Dutch world.

I’ve once calculated that all my years of private school (preschool, elementary, high school), college, a post-baccalaureate program, and continuing graduate school amounted to over $200,000.  With so much money invested into my “education”, my parents had hoped for so much more for me than struggling to be a functioning illiterate.

To be fair, I have decided to stay in this country for at least the next 5 years. Let’s just say the financial instability in my home country (land of the free, home of the brave) is experiencing some economic turmoil right now.

Furthermore, I am marrying a Dutch guy. My attempts in learning Dutch thus far has all been but futile. Learning a new language while trying to successfully balance integrating into a new, drastically different culture, completing a master’s degree, and maintaining a loving relationship while also being on the road to self-discovery and self-preservation is not exactly easy.At the end of the day, my independent Dutch lessons get pushed aside.

If time was on my side, I would enroll in a Dutch language program taught at the university. I am afraid, however, that I just don’t have the energy to dedicate some serious studying to the language.

The solution? The Regina Coeli Institute in Vught, the Netherlands, otherwise referred to as “being sent to the nuns to be straightened out”. It’s actually a private language institution dedicated to teaching different languages to corporate types who lack the luxury of time. Supposedly, one intensive week of 12 daily hours of private, custom tailored language lessons.

I’ll let you know about the whole process. If everything goes according to plans, I’ll be away for a week in November with my heart set on learning Dutch, crash-course style.

I sometimes like to tease Bram that he is my Prince Charming, my White Knight in shining armor. Who ever thought there would be some slight truth behind my terms of affection?

At the last week end of August, when I had just enough of the non-existent Dutch summer in the Raanstad, Bram and I headed over to family weekend getaway in Limburg. As the southern-most province of the twelve provinces of the Netherlands, Limburg has a distinct character that has a Bourgondic French flair. Bram’s maternal roots run deep in Limburg with a direct ancestor being traced to a Maastricht citizen sometime in the 1400s (Thanks to a family genealogy book).

Accordingly, Bram mother’s family never strayed too far, or more accurately, too long away from their beloved Limburg province. Once a year, Bram’s mother spends sometime in her brother’s house located in Vlodrop situated in de Meinweg, a national park. Conveniently, her brother also owns the house next door, allowing for generous invitations to extended family to spend some precious time together. 

We finally accepted one of those invitations and spent a relaxing weekend with Bram’s mother, older sister, two beautiful nieces (his other sister’s daughters).  I had little idea of what I was getting myself into aside from that it was going to be in the Dutch countryside. 

By the time we arrived at his uncle’s house at 10:00 PM, it was utterly dark and the surrounding forest gave a foreboding aura. The general lack of cell phone reception didn’t help first impressions as we drove up to the uncle’s house lighted only by our headlights. 

To my amazement, I woke up being embraced by the warm, immense solitude rarely found in the Netherlands:

In such a small country with a very dense population, having this much private space is often unheard of. You can only imagine how I was able to sit back and enjoy every moment of it before reality sets in and life back in the Raanstad beckons. 

And play we did:

Adding to my “surreal, fairy-tale” experience, Bram and I found some time to briefly wander around his uncle’s castle in Herkenbosch, a neighboring town 15 minutes away. Yes. Kasteel Daelenbroek, a Lord’s castle built in 1320, is personally owned and being lovingly renovated by non-other than Bram’s mother’s brother. 

Kasteel Daelenbroek is actually a charming country castle, complete with its very own hotel, cafe, restaurant, event space,  and spa. It’s also not surprising that the castle is a favored wedding location in Bram’s family as well as other important family celebrations.

What really won me over though were the much welcomed visits by thoroughbred horses grazing in the meadow just after dinner each night. They would literally come up to the backyard fence and sweetly beg for some attention. 

For anyone interested in momentarily getting away from the hectic life of the Raanstad, I recommend heading down to Limburg. Wandering around the quaint, traditional Limburg villages surrounded by nature may possibly be one of the most therapeutic coping mechanisms for an expat.

Cinque Terre is truly an amazing place. If pictures can speak a thousand words…

Finding a place to call home in the Netherlands can be one of the most challenging experiences one can ever encounter. The Low Countries is the 25th most densely populated country in the world. Just how dense? If you consider only land area, that equates to approximately 484 people per square kilometer(1,254/square mile). With a healthy population of 16,408,557 (and growing), its not a surprise that not everyone can live in one of those picturesque 17th century canal homes. 

As a solution to the lack of affordable housing on land, working-class Dutch families pragmatically took refuge on old canal barges. These canal barges initially offered a cheaper alternative to the outrageous prices of living on land and a sanctuary for the water-obsessed Dutch. Starting from around World-War II, the popularity of houseboats steadily took off as this bohemian lifestyle gained an unrelenting foothold in the midst of Amsterdam’s quintessential housing shortage . What better way to enjoy the luxury of Amsterdam’s network of canals, bridges and other architectural monuments?  

However, don’t let the appearance of these floating trailers fool you into thinking that they’re still an affordable option for the common (wo)man.  Before your very eyes are simply an extension of Amsterdam’s new wealth, gentrification into the water Dutch style.

This weekend my Dutch fiance and I got to momentarily enjoy a short visit to his sister’s very own houseboat. Here’s a small peek inside:

Gezzelig isn’t it? While I cannot freely disclose the location of this houseboat, I will share that it can be found in the heart of the most coveted canal of all Amsterdam (or at least according to Fodor’s Amsterdam travel guide).

Since I have “land-legs”, I wasn’t completely comfortable with such unsteady ground and couldn’t stay in for too long. Although houseboats are attached to moorings on the side of the canals, passing boats, stormy weather and strong winds can cause the houseboat to move uneasily. I’m afraid that living on a houseboat is definitely out of the question for me. =)

For those who are interested in visiting Amsterdam, or would like a nice getaway, why not try to rent your own houseboat for a night or two? It’s a great way to experience Amsterdam and possibly develop a fondness of water, Dutch-style.

As any idealistic, romantic American, I often grew up dreaming about visiting Italy– Rome, Florence, Sienna and Venice.  Who hasn’t grown up hearing about the Michelangelo’s Statue of David, an exquisite piece of marble considered to be one of the Renaissance’s most renowned masterpieces? 

The Statue of David was of course one of my “must-see attractions” in Florence. Although it was supposedly forbidden to take any pictures, I couldn’t help but take my own personal photograph. I needed to capture the moment, and what better way than with my beloved Canon SLR?

While visiting those famed tourist attractions are a definite must (at least once in your life), straying away the off the beaten path can give you a unique perspective. One could even argue, greater appreciation for the beauty right before your very eyes. One may ask, “Why not go to the place that inspired these Renaissance artists”? Why not for a moment stand in front of the marble mountains that Michelangelo saw with his very own eyes?

With the help of our new found Italian friends, Bram and I just did. 

It was a beautiful hike through the Italian national park with breathtaking nature all around. 

With little breaks to enjoy the succulent, wild sweet forest berries to tickle our appetites and make us dream for more.

And at the end of an unforgettable journey, we all ate an amazing Italian Tuscan meal.

After all,  ”Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but the number of moments that take your breath away” (Alex Hitchens). 

Dutch version: Wijsheid is het zoeken naar antwoorden en ze vinden, soms kan je dat niet alleen, daarvoor heb je vrienden…

Old folks sharing some wisdom to seemingly distressed youth would say, “Sometimes you just have to take the bull by the horn and tell him to leave”. 

After coming back from my unforgettable two-week trip to Italy filled with constant sunshine, one can only imagine how difficult it was for me to come back to the perpetually raining Netherlands. Wouldn’t you go a little crazy if you had to go back to a dark and gloomy world, devoid of any hint of summer when its onlyJuly and August?

My only two saving graces are of course my ever so patient fiance and a very promising internship. By the end August, I was once again suffering from seasonal affective disorder (SAD). Seriously. Shouldn’t SAD be limited to winter days? Apparently not in a country where lack of sunshine is an every day reality all year long.

Keenly aware of my sad disposition, Bram decided to make the most of the “one official day of Dutch summer”, and plan a surprise weekend getaway to Duin and Kruidberg, a 5 star hotel a couple minutes shy of Haarlem but seemingly a world away (http://www.duin-kruidberg.nl/contents/home/66). If we were going to be only blessed with one summer day, why not make the most of it? Bram decided to “take the bull by the horn” and hoped that by leading by example, I too would be able to find more happiness despite the unfortunate weather.

The only instructions I was given the morning of was to pack lightly, bring a swim-suit and something nice to wear later on. It took me a couple of minutes to get over the initial shock of a weekend getaway. Knowing Bram, these getaways are generally thoughtful, sweet, undeniably romantic. 

Our first stop was a picnic in Vondel Park, the largest city park in Amsterdam. I had been given a nice “picnic in the park” gift basket by Bram’s closest friends as a birthday gift in May. All we had to do was to pick up the picnic basket prepared by a cafe/restaurant located in the park…As an indication to just how busy our schedules have been, this was the only opportunity we had to cash-in my birthday present. One should also not forget the fact that the unpredictable often rainy weather also added to the four month delay.

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Nonetheless, the picnic basket was a pleasant surprise-croissants, generous portions of four different french cheeses, salami, crackers,  strawberries, salad, and Swiss chocolates. We were a little tempted to open up the Prosecco, but the warm sun along with an impending drive made us decide against it. Bram ate a large portion of the cheeses while I mischievously had most of the strawberries and chocolates. I really appreciated being out in the park and was even inspired to possibly move to Amsterdam. As much as I could have slept out in the sun in the nice grass, Bram and I had to go and I was already getting a little impatient with the surprise.

 I found myself once again swept off my feet as he drove me to the final destination. Bram definitely knows how to take my breath away, and thats one of the many reasons why I am going to marry him. Low and behold, Duin and Kruidberg Hotel. 

It was a fairy-tale like getaway. Adding to the ambience was the hotel’s customer service, a true novelty in this part of the world. Who wouldn’t feel like a princess here?

Not letting a moment pass by, Bram and I tried not to spend too much time in our hotel room. We spent the rest of the afternoon at the local beach, a 20 minute bike ride away. The only caveat was that you had to ride through a national forest with wandering highlanders.

Warning: Do not try to take a picture with it. I got a little too close to it and it tried to ram me. We were to find out later from our waiter that the animals “are just not right”. How appropriate right? 

The night ended with a romantic dinner at the hotel’s Michelin star restaurant, de Frienden van Jacob.To our surprise, an opening at the restaurant was available and we immediately jumped at the opportunity. I must admit that I was a little shy at first–the ambience was formal and I was surrounded by seemingly, uptight, unhappy and bored rich people. But that uneasiness quickly wore off because after all, I was with the Love of My Life. Not to forget to mention, the generous wine pairing with the extravagant, culinary performance. 

Dinner started at 8 and amazingly ended at around 2 in the morning to our inebriated contentment. We had anticipated only 5 courses but ended up getting complementary courses, ultimately enjoying what ended up to be a 9 course meal. After having been to several fancy restaurants in San Francisco, Makati, Philadelphia, Paris, and New York, the “chocolate expedition” was by far the best dessert I’ve ever had.

I came back to reality feeling refreshed, even more in love, and ready to face the next couple hectic months with a more reassured perspective. Afterall, as our Shetland Highlander Cow friend reminded us, “Sometimes you just have to take the bull by the horn”.

I have been dreaming of going to Cinque Terre ever since stumbling upon the traveller’s article in the New York Times about three years ago. One can only imagine how I jumped at the opportunity to go the moment Bram suggested a summer vacation was much needed. Since I moved to the Netherlands in May 2007 and faced the consequential moving expenses, there was no opportunity or financial allowance for a holiday. Granted even though we did go back home for Christmas/New Year’s last year and spent a lot of money (too much for me to openly share), I have been trying my best to be “cost-conscious”. After all, learning to pinch pennies is a large part of the Dutch integration process right? Thus, as any cheap “Dutch” couple would do, we decided to drive to Italy.

The logic behind such a strenuous effort of driving was based on the assumption that it would be much more cost-effective to drive rather than the total costs of flying, necessary train tickets, and possibility of a car rental for added convenience. Now keep in mind that this was in light of the $140 gallon of petrol coming to a haunting reality in the middle of July. Gas prices in the US, even in San Francisco, pale in comparison with the exorbitant amount Europeans pay for oil.

Nonetheless, my wonderful cost-conscious Dutch fiance wanted to drive, and who am I to get in his way? One can also argue that camping would also be more in the lines of a Dutch vacation. I must confess that there is only a limit to my “integration” process. I am not ashamed to admit that I am the kind of girl who requires a comfortable bed and nice refreshing shower after a day spent meandering around. I know my limitations. It was approximately another ten hour drive from Glottertal, Germany to Cinque Terre (Monterroso al Mare). Since I was also driving impaired (I cannot drive stick-shift), Bram took full control of his beloved Mazda all throughout the road trip. Fortunately for me, there was also a “navigator” in all its British (programed accent of choice) sas directing Bram’s way. All that was required of me was to sit back and relax while he maneuvered his way through the chaotic German, Swiss and Italian traffic.

We finally arrived at Villa Steno in Monterrosa al Mare, exhausted and hungry but grateful to have arrived with a psuedo-parking spot available. For those who have ever gone to Cinque Terre or are planning on going, are fully aware that driving to Cinque Terre is highly discouraged if not frowned upon. Persistence for the sake of convenience and careful planning definitely paid off for us. Villa Steno, rated as the number one hotel in Cinque Terre according to Trip Advisor, not only provides great accommodations but also coveted and rare parking. Not willing to let a moment go by wasted, we went to a local restaurant recommended by the hotel hostess just a three minute walk away. At first we were a little skeptical because “she heard that it was really good” and momentarily debated whether or not the proprietor of the hotel had given her instructions to do so. We decided to just leave it up to faith and bravely eat our first Italian meal at Alta Marea. And the rest of the night was filled with amazing food, interesting new company, and the warm, but refreshing Ligurian air promising more unforgettable moments.