Worldly Chatter

I miss home. It is pretty simple; I miss home. I miss my family and friends. I miss the little deli on Sunrise Highway where I get a bagel with cream cheese and the pizza I can get two doors down. I miss America and it seems so odd for me to say that.

I am a happy person here. I walk the streets comfortable and content in how things work here. I am working and learning the language and thriving well when I know in America I wouldn’t get the opportunities I get here. In two and a half weeks I have a key to the restaurant. I am by no means the manager, yet, however they are giving more responsibilities to see how I would do as a manager. I never got that chance in America and it never mattered how hard I worked or attempted to show my worth. It simply doesn’t happen often. I love the food, the culture and the people. It has become home here almost from the moment I arrived. I walk the streets married, holding hands with my wife knowing I cannot do it in my own country. I have health coverage and can go to the dentist without breaking the bank. I have never gone hungry or slept on a park bench here like I have in America and yet part of me misses America.

Do I sound ungrateful or miserable in saying such things? Is it right to miss something with so messy of a history for me when I have happiness and contentment here in the Netherlands?

When I went to America last year, by the end of the two and a half weeks I missed Holland, I missed home. I missed the hagel slag and chocopasta. I missed the coffee and bread. I missed the streets and bicycles; the friendly faces and the Dutch that I had gotten used to being around me. Now I miss the English, the crappy sidewalks and food. Believe it or not, I miss how the news is less that objective and how they hide things. Here it is in your face and at times can be so raw. In some ways I still get surprised at the lack of censorship here when for twenty five years I heard silence when someone spoke because of the censorship that goes on. Hell, I even missed the processed to death food! Food in Europe tastes so different to foods in America, it tastes better yet here I am missing the crappy food! How in the world could I contemplate missing such things?

We are going to be there, in New York and CT, it two weeks. I will have all I want of American culture and home! Will it be like last year where I wanted nothing more than Dutch to be in my ear and to go to the center and get fresh baked Dutch bread, a cup of coffee and a broodje gezond? Right now all I want to do is hug my mom and dad and walk into a Barns and Noble! I feel so conflicted and confused and yet it is so simple, I miss home and feel guilty for it. Why? Why feel guilty for missing the place of your birth and the culture in which you come from.

I had a customer come into work who was a retired American. He lived in California, served in the Navy and was stationed in San Diego. He didn’t want to retire there. He wanted something new and different for himself so he moved to the Netherlands and settled down for retirement in our little town of Hilversum. He has no intention of ever returning to America. Why is it that once we leave, we never want to return except for the vacation once a year for two weeks? It’s like the other 50 weeks of the year we cannot possibly stomach what is happening there and loath the idea of living in such a mess when we know better exists elsewhere. Is it shameful? Is it self-preservation to want better? We know better is out there, we have tasted it and have felt it in the air. Like my customer said during our chat, why move back to that? We would be living with Bush as the president and feel the poverty, the lack of freedoms we cherish here and we will remember the petty dramas that go on. Why have those for ourselves when we live somewhere better? He had me thinking about that for a nice while; I am still brewing over the question. Yet here I sit, missing home, missing that little island I grew up on by the city.

living abroad, worldly chatter, New Yorker in Holland, home sickness

Someone I know from my school days told me I was brave the other day and I was left sitting here, pondering it and what it meant to me. I talked it over with Dutchie, naturally, but it did little to end the pondering. So after talking with Dutchie and sending emails and messages back and forth with friends I have come to some kind of conclusion, though not one that I am pleased with simply because I do not see it.

When I moved to Holland it was to find happiness with the person I loved. The ride was rough, I will admit, it was dramatic, intense and scary. The uncertainty of finding your footing in a new country is incredibly challenging at times and downright frightening. I researched and asked questions to find some grasp of what was to be my new home. I was desperate to learn! With all the knowledge I thought I had gained, when I walked into the streets of Holland I was severely ill prepared. The culture, its people and surroundings overwhelmed me. It wasn’t even the language I thought was most challenging, though a big one, it was the differences in behaviors, attitudes and how the system as a whole worked. I still find things that are different and must adjust accordingly on a regular basis and I doubt it will stop any time soon.

I miss my native home from time to time, mostly just my friends and family and not the place itself so much. When I went back to NY to visit the family I missed my hagel slag and coffee pads. I missed how we pay things and the shopping hours and the prices I have come accustomed. I missed my sidewalks and bike paths. Walking around Long Island I really had a hard time getting used to all the English and my body had to get used to American food and the fact that it is processed and the taste. (It really is processed differently and tastes different!) I truly felt as though I was having another culture shock all over again but it didn’t make sense to me, this was my own country! I could not and do not understand how I could have changed so much as to feel lost in my own town! Was I away that long? Did I swallow more of Dutch customs than I had originally thought? I went from feeling lost and scared in my new surroundings to missing it deeply when I was away.

It has been a learning experience in a major way. A humbling experience I admit. I walked it with my American education, American attitude and was quickly shown there was more to life than being American. Not that I really thought this but somewhere inside we all have a bit of pride for where we come from whether we want it or not and it comes out from time to time. I was shown how different America is to the European cultures and how it made me realize a few things I wasn’t so crazy about my own country and culture in which I was raised. It hits hard, believe me, all the years of living in one culture, one society and then to have it turned upside down is intense.

I have found love and happiness. I have experienced a learning you can’t get from books and a new world to experience and smother myself in. I felt the pain of rejection and your heart skipping a beat with pure joy! What a wonder it is just to move somewhere different for something that makes you happy and experience all that! My point is this:

What I have learned, felt and taken in makes me a little more open minded and more experienced. Does it really make me brave? I moved across the Atlantic, it is approximately the same distance as if I had moved to California, would I be brave then? Dutchie and a few others say it is because not everyone would make such a leap as I have. I want to think others would. To grab hold of the one person you really love, to hold tight the happiness you feel, I really want to think others would too. Then again, she might be right, maybe there aren’t many would risk it all and make such a move. However, does it really make me brave? My conclusion is this, I don’t see me as brave, just happy but others seem to think so.

worldly chatter, living abroad, expats

Well, today is going to be a short one as I am a busy girl today. I first must take the train to Utrecht where I will finally get my hands on my sofi-number! That is at 10:45 but I do not know how long that will take. Then, and this is just as cool if not cooler, I have an interview with an agency at 3:00 in Amsterdam for a job as a Customer Account Manager! I am so excited! Since I don’t know how long it will take in Utrecht I might just take the train to Amsterdam instead of swinging back to Hilversum first. Either way I am prepared!
I got the phone call this afternoon from a representative at hays.nl where they stated they received my resume and application and liked what they saw. I have experience in stock, customer service and feel this would definitely work in my favor! It requires excellent English in both written and speech and being a native I am set in that. He asked me a few questions and then asked when I would be available. I explained I was picking up my sofi-number tomorrow in Utrecht so how about next week. He asked me what time and when I mentioned the time, he then asked about tomorrow after my appointment! Since I wasn’t sure how long this was going to take I suggested afternoon and here we are! 3:00 I have an appointment. They sent over directions and a detailed description of the job I am going for. I would be a busy girl! They deal with distribution of alcoholic products all over the world and I would be managing supplies and customers. And the cool part is the pay; the pay is round about two thousand a month! Hello! Can we say beautiful! Dutchie and I would be able to do all the things we have planned. Life would be beautiful and it would be during business hours so I would be home at night just as Dutchie is. I would still have my time with Dutchie.
Therefore, dear readers, I apologize for the short post today. This is I going out in the world and grabbing a hold of experiences and work! Wish me luck on my ventures today! I promise to make it an interesting post in the days after!

Netherlands, American expat, sofi-numbers, job interviews, Utrecht, Amsterdam

What does it mean to be American, un-American? Is the US the greatest country in the world? After reading a comment sent to me about my piece Opinions and Judgments, it struck me to really consider the comment and answer some questions I had stirring inside of me. What does it mean to be American to me or to anyone else for that matter? Being born on American soil gives us this claim but is it also a mentality we have? Living elsewhere and learning the behaviors and inner workings of another country I realize that part of being America is the mentality we have, the personalities and behaviors we acquire along the way. My behaviors and personality differ from those around me; our perception of the world varies.
Take for example, Natalie from the Dixie Chicks, who voiced her embarrassment and unhappiness towards the president and the war. The backlash from expressing her opinion was massive and uncalled for. It was her right as an American to utilize her freedom of speech. She used her right as an American to question the government and express displeasure over the war. Yet somehow the Dixie Chicks were banished from country radio as unpatriotic, she was labeled un-American. I am by no means as popular or influential as Natalie but when I am informed that my comments, opinions and questioning is un-American it gets under your skin and it made me wonder about the mentality of those I talked to as well as myself. When that happened people over here in the UK and Europe were wondering what the big deal was. She was by no means the only person who felt or expressed such sentiments. Everyone understood that this would not go over well with some people but some actually laughed at how dramatic Americans were acting, calling them childish and narrow minded. Not many people really understood why it got so big.
The definition of un-American- adj. Considered contrary to the institutions or principles of the United States. Not American; not characteristic of or proper to the U.S.; foreign or opposed to the characters, values, standards, goals, etc., of the U.S.

This reader, an American just as I, questions the government and its policies. This reader shares many opinions as I do but this reader lives in America. Therefore, is it ok to say whatever we like in the relative safety of the country and considered bad form to say it outside the borders? Natalie said it in the UK and part of the issue Americans had is that it took place on foreign soil. According to an American friend, it is considered bad form to talk about American policies and opinions with outsiders. If outsiders do it between themselves that is one thing because they do not know what it is like from the inside. If we share and mingle with outsiders on personal issues involving America and its people, it is wrong because it gives those outsiders a glimpse of something they do not have a right to see; it’s personal. I, as an American, should put this into account and not represent my country in such an open fashion. Is this true; am I representing my country in a manner I should not when in conversations here in Europe or when I write on-line?
I have come to a place where the way I think and express myself has changed. The Dutch have a way of being blunt in just about everything they say. They are not the sort of people who live by the saying: if you have nothing nice to say, you say nothing at all. While there are plenty of Americans do not live by this, many more taught it and are in favor of politeness over truth. I have seen it too often and lived it for twenty-five years to deny its existence. I have picked up this behavior of speak your mind no matter what and it does have its down sides yet it is also refreshing in many ways. One of those downsides is that it seems to agitate my American friends and families. They are not sure what to think of the change. I should not say this or I should not say that. This talk about expressing my opinions and sentiments about my country is one such topic where boundaries have been overstepped.
Another thing that gets me about the comment is the statement so many make about America being the greatest country in the world. I will not deny that my country has it a lot better than many countries out there yet I wonder where it all started for the same people that make this statement have not left the country. They take it on faith. I have seen in my travels and studies that there are countries that have, in my opinion, better qualities and my native land. Policies I favor, behaviors more open and honest and a cockiness that seems to dissipate once I leave the American borders. I can appreciate that. Many feel there is arrogance in America simply by being American and I have to agree. Just because I am American does not mean I am special. I am just as human as anyone else is and no more important than anyone else. Watching others view my country, I can see what they see. It is different from what Americans inside see, it is what the rest of the world sees and it humbles you as an American. It puts you in a place where you know America is not the only great nation out there.
Does any of this fit the definition; am I un-American?

American mentality, America the greatest nation, American Pride, opinions, expats, American Expat, Dixie Chicks, UK, Europe, European views on America, American arogance, living abroad

Recently I had a conversation about America and my view on it; am I getting all the headlines, do I know what is really going on? Do I really only pay attention to the politics of Europe now, ignoring my own country? Is it all about Europe and to hell with my own country? I wanted to ignore the question all together I must admit. I do care about what goes on in my own country; I make sure I stay on top of what is going on. It is not an easy thing to say to hell with my own country. Just the thought makes me feel as though I am ripping out half of my being. Yet the conversation came to a place where I could have loyalty to only one country, where did my heart really lie? Is that really the case; that my heart is only big enough as to have love for one country only? It seemed shallow to think so. I write on what I see, I write about the differences I experience and the things I learn. If I write about something that one or two Americans do not like does that mean I am ignorant to the ways of America? Is my opinion trash because I left? Some questions I put on the table and the person only danced around the answer. It is not that simple they stated. I had to maintain loyalty and a clear idea of what it means to represent my country.
A while back, I wrote about how when you travel or move abroad you automatically represent your country, for good or bad. It is hard to carry the weight of an entire nation when someone realizes where you come from. With all that is going on in America, from the president and congress, Iraq and now they cannot even tend to the disaster properly in Kansas as all resources sit in Iraq, people look at America as though they do not know what they are doing. It is becoming increasingly apparent that America is losing grip. Americans see it as do those around the world. So why is it so bad that I voice this outside the borders of America? It is because it is bad form that I give a less than perfect view to those outside, or so I’m told. Don’t hang dirty laundry out for others to see. I am to paint this beautiful picture of my country so that the people I interact with over in Europe will have a better view of America. Why does this rest on my shoulders? How can little old me combat what the rest of the world sees? It is not my responsibility and I tire of people saying it is. We all have a duty to our country and its representation to the rest of the world. Says who exactly?
I have been polite in my writing, I have been as patient and delicate as I can be and it sits on deaf ears. It isn’t enough, I am to drop it all and simply write about Holland, Germany and anywhere else I go and never mind the business, the politics of America as it does not concern me anymore. It most certainly does, I am still a citizen and I still have some rights and can use them. It is not as though what I have to say is heard across the globe and I write trash for the enemy to use. I simply express what I see, what matters to me and what I learn. How is this a vile thing and why am I criticized for it?
When I moved I did not think of it as me representing anyone or anything other than me. I did not put into consideration that I would change; I would become more open and clash with those I used to have so much in common. When I interact with my surroundings, I cannot help the differences I see, I cannot help but hear the opinions and judgments made on America. To be honest I am tired of defending and I am tired of the criticism when I do not defend. There is no middle ground with my fellow Americans; I am either for or against the land of the free. Despite my best effort that seems to be the consensus, I am either for or against and the fact that I vocalize my opinion is a big no, no.
Has what I have had to say that offensive? Do I need to be daintier and tip toe a little better to appease my American friends and readers? I thought I had already done my best to do that. I will write that I do not like the laws when it comes to marriage, I will write that I cannot stand the current president, the war in Iraq and I will write that I feel America is losing grip with everything it is trying to control and maintain. Should I shield it? No, I do not feel I should and almost kick myself that I have tried so hard to do so.
When I wrote about dodenherdenking, remembrance of the dead, liberation, Memorial Day, Veterans Day; some thought I had a point while others thought I stepped on toes and did not portray how America really sees its veterans and days devoted to them. Am I really to write that America takes these days serious when most of the country sees it as a barbeque? Yes, there are those who honor and respect these holidays but I feel as though the reason is lost and am informed I should not say such things. They are my feelings and opinions and I express it as such. It is just one example of what I hear because I live outside America. It is shallow and narrow minded to ask anyone to cover how he or she feels, to have them suppress their opinions.
I was going to write about something I saw on the news but it just struck me to write this. I am tired of the criticism and judgments but will no longer tip toe and dance to appease people because in the end I am always going to upset someone. It is a little off from what I normally write but then again, I write about my experiences as an expat and traveler right. This is just one side effect of it all I suppose.

Expats, American Expatriate, Netherlands, Europe, American opinions, American views, American freedoms, Judgments, opinionated people, judgmental people, writing, rambles, opinions

As I venture further into society here and mingle with the natives, I have come to interesting findings along the way. I can recall a time when I was living on Long Island, New York and me and some friends were driving through Bay Shore when our car died. Mind you, this was the age of beepers and not many of us as teenagers and young adults had cell phones yet. We were at a corner with a 7-11 so we walked over and asked the man behind the counter if we could use his phone to call for some help; our car had died after all. No, use the payphone, its outside. There was three of us and wouldn’t you know it, all we had were five and ten dollar bills. Could you break a five for us so we can get some quarters? Nope, you need to buy something. Therefore, we bought something to get some change and called for help. The battery died so the tow truck jumped the car and we were on our merry way.
Now let us fast forward a few years and into Holland. Dutchie did a very silly thing a couple of months back; she left the car lights on all night long! In the morning when we got in the car, by golly it would not start! Dutchie gets out of the car because there is not much point in sitting in a car that will not go anywhere and sees a neighbor across the small intersection working on his truck. We do not know this man; I cannot even recall seeing him before. Dutchie walks across the street and talks to him for a moment then returning with the wonderful news that he will jump-start the car. Well isn’t that nifty! He started our car, hartelijk bedankt’s and graag gedaan’s were exchanged and off we went.
It was so fascinating how a complete stranger helped so willingly.
Now you remember my interview and the adventure that was in Amsterdam right. My American bottom was going the wrong way after getting off the bus so I walk into a convenient store and politely say to him that I have a question. Waar is deze straat while pointing to the directions I had on me. Ik weet het niet, I don’t know, while he scratches his head. I show him my map and the nice woman in the store knows where it is! My companion if you recall. Well the reason I bring it up is that it is another example I have for you. A woman in an electric wheel chair in Albert Hein needed something that was on the top shelve. She kindly asks me and I get it for her; just the way people are here. With all these examples, it was no wonder Dutchie was surprised when we vacationed on Long Island and visited the city.
There is a bagel shop on Sunrise Highway, the corner of Hubbard’s Path where I remember getting bagels and coffee there as a teenager. I wanted Dutchie to experience a real New York bagel so that is where we had lunch one afternoon. We were sitting at our table, Dutchie marveling at how large and filling the bagel was when a man got up from his table and headed to the door with two canes holding him up and aiding in his walking. Another patron walks in the shop and closes it just as the elderly man was making it to the door. Dutchie saw this take place and could not understand why the woman did not hold the door so she put the bagel down and opened the door for the elderly man. That is when he looked at her a tad perplexed but was grateful all the same.
On our walk back, Dutchie could not understand why no one else helped him or why he looked at her the way he did. She asked me why and was not satisfied with any answer I gave. Some people just do not help others. Some are simply too wrapped in their own thoughts to notice. Do not get me wrong, people in NY can be quite helpful and polite. Dutchie did get to see that in the city but this really bothered her and as I mingle better with the natives here in Holland, I can see why.
The atmosphere is different. In general, people seem more relaxed and into their surroundings rather than in some other world in their head. I have experienced some Dutch people who were downright rude and obnoxious to me but I have also experienced them being kind and thoughtful. It seems more the norm than what I was used to living in CT or Long Island. I had to get used to my neighbor saying ‘hallo’ to me even though we did not know each other. Now we chat it up and has even been there on a few occasions when we needed some help.
It’s a different beat I have to go by. More relaxed and even a little slower than the pace I was used to keeping. Even when I was rushing for my train and making sure I caught the right bus the people around me were hurried but not in so much of a rush not to see the people around them. The more I step out of my box the more I see how much I really have to adapt. I still keep my New York pace and feel lost for answers when they ask me why I am in such a hurry. I will adapt and hopefully will keep the same pace, slow my step and get to know the people around me better. Then maybe I will understand Dutchie better and why stuff bothers her when it does not me.

Netherlands, American expat, Dutch, integration, adaptation

What an interesting day I have had and it seems it will continue into tomorrow! I had my very first interview this afternoon in Amsterdam. It was with a temp agency that works specifically with hotels. 3:30 was the time I had to be there so I started my journey at two from Hilversum. I wanted to get there early in case I got lost and it was a good thing I did too!
I get into Amsterdam at around 2:30 and go to the information desk to find out which side of this large central station the buses are located. Just go out the door behind me and make a left, you cannot miss them he states. I make my way through a maze of German, Dutch and English speaking people all around me to the warm sun and glance to my left. Just after the construction is in fact a row of busses coming and going. I am an hour early so I thought I would have a cigarette. The mix of languages is astounding! Tourist season has hit! I hear British, American and Australian while they try and figure out which tram will take them where or what train is it to Schiphol. I watch the people pass as they all have a destination, work or leisure, they all have somewhere to be and today I am just such a person! Finally, I remember what it feels like to have an appointment and the feel of hustle and bustle. Amazing and scary all at once, I am not in my native land and I can feel it but that is ok. It still feels good to be out there!
I find my bus number and ask the driver if this bus will take me to Merelstraat. Of course and he stamps my strippenkaart. (Bus pass) A moment later, the bus is off and around Amsterdam Central we go! The bus took me to my street in less than ten minutes. I step off and look at the map Dutchie printed out for me. Which way do I go? The map was not very specific you see so I walk forward and hope it is the right way. It is not; none of the side streets on the map is showing up. So I stop into a little convenient store where a women walked in a few moments earlier than I. Ik heb een vraag (I have a question). I say kindly to the man behind the counter. He says ja and I explain my dilemma as best I can in Dutch. He had not a clue at first but then saw my map and had a better idea of what I was looking for. The woman who walked in prior to me was at the counter when I first spoke and is now involved in our conversation of which way I should be going. After a moment or so, the woman just states she will walk with me and show me. Well how about that, I say ok and wait for her to pay for her items; I said hartelijk bedankt to the nice man behind the counter and off we went!
It was quite evident that I was not a native to the land so the woman asked me if I was from England, I told her I was from New York and this got her chatting about a friend who had traveled there. Such a nice woman she was! We came to a rotary and she was a tad puzzled as to where next to go so we walked into another convenient store. I am told I need to go further up the road and it will be on the left. Another man who walks in the store joins in the conversation and I now have three people trying to find one road! Now I think I have it! I thank them kindly, especially the woman who had been with me through my travels from one convenient store to another. She tells me where she lives and that if I get lost then just knock on the door and she will see if she can help further.
My goodness, my first time out in Amsterdam on my own and I get this! My horrid Dutch speech and basic understanding landed me directions and a companion for part of the journey! I was not expecting any of this, only someone to point me in the right direction but I got more. I will tell you the truth on this; I have never had such an experience while living in CT or NY. In addition, all this did get me to my final destination, my interview!
My interview was short, copying my permit, asking me questions and having me fill out paper work. It was a temp agency so they put me in the computer along with the information they gather from the interview itself. They would be back to me in two weeks after I receive my permit. It was simple. I walk out the door with so much weight lifted from my chest. My first interview was over. I take the same bus back to the station and head home.
It was such an interesting day for me! I was so nervous because the market works different here, the language and format on how things are done. My Dutch is not that good, choppy, very basic at best. My understand is a tad better, better than I thought for I was able to get my American speaking bottom to my interview without any use of English. I can’t help but be a bit proud of myself on that one. I have another interview tomorrow in Amsterdam, this time a little closer to the station. I am still a little scared and nervous but maybe less so on the traveling. I can manage around Amsterdam. I can read the signs, follow bus routes, and even ask for help in Dutch if I get lost. A very good day in deed I feel! Wish me luck on my next adventure tomorrow!

Amsterdam Central, Temp Agencies in the Netherlands, Netherlands, Dutch, Nederand, first interview, Jobs, Work, expat, American Expat

Last night I got a phone call from an insurance company. I now have liability insurance. I have so much insurance its crazy! I have funeral insurance, liability insurance, dental insurance and health insurance. I have to admit I have never had so much before! I can recall working in America and having health insurance and I did have dental, though it wasn’t much. I can also remember how much it cost coming out of my pay check every two weeks. 40 dollars every two weeks for just the health, then there was the 10 every two weeks for the dental. After I was let go my insurance was going to cost me 300 dollars a month to keep it! My insurance including dental and psychological coverage will cost 150 euro a month. I take a deep breath just thinking about that number! My funeral insurance is going to cost 8 euro a month and my liability a little under 3 euro a month. I like those numbers!
All this before I am working, how to pay for it all? Well, right now Dutchie is. The IND states that she is responsible for me and absolutely everything I need and I am not allowed to ask for government assistance for a minimum of five years. I can live with that, I remember what it was like not working and needing help at one point in my life. It didn’t last long but I remember it well. This is so much for Dutchie and I have sat by watching the paycheck get smaller and smaller due to things I needed. While Dutchie has never complained about all the money it has taken for my permit and all my needs I have complained. I want to help with the costs but the IND has stated I was not allowed to work while I was being processed.
Though I have to admit something; having full coverage and it costing less than what it would have cost in America and not fully covered is shocking to me, overwhelming even. I can sleep sound and know I am covered for virtually everything. I am a natural klutz you see and it is good to know that anything I get myself into will be covered. The burn on my arm is testament to the fact that I am a klutz. I did that with an electric kettle, steam and boiling water can leave a nasty burn when you aren’t careful but anyway. I used to be one of those 42 million Americans uninsured and now I have full coverage. It is definitely overwhelming.

I received my first rejection email yesterday; I received another email this morning stating they were unable to open my resume. So I resent them the resume in the format best after the issue with the first one. He got back to me again thanking me for my quick reply and now he can open it. I am sending my resume online at the moment because I still have to wait two weeks to pick up my sofi-number, the number that is the equivalent to a social security number, you can’t do much without it. So until I get it I cannot go to agencies in person or fill out applications because the first thing they will ask for is that number. I want to be able to help Dutchie with the bills I create and the home that we live in. I want to be able to stand on my two feet and contribute. Alas I must wait another two weeks. But I will contribute; I have to for my own sanity and to ease the weight off Dutchie.
My insurance papers came in this morning. My goodness! OHRA Zorgverzekering and Yarden have sent me paperwork on my policy and forms to fill out. Dutchie is going to sit with me and go over it all because some of the Dutch is so foreign to me. While I type this Dutchie reads off all the things I am covered for and the list goes on and on! Physical therapy, glasses, birth control, organ transplant, hospital stay, if something were to happen overseas I am covered. This is great! I even have some cosmetic stuff covered! Now all I have to is get off my suction cup and make some money!

OHRA Zorgverzekering, Yarden, insurance, health insurance, psyc insurance, dental insurance, funeral insurance, expat, netherlands, American expat

So yesterday was an interesting day for me. Now that I have my permit Dutchie and I have to get my life here in the Netherlands going. I made out a resume the other day and started applying for work. Learned two things in this; one, even though you have the latest edition of Microsoft office not everyone else does, so change the format. I applied to five jobs; someone got back to me and said they couldn’t open my resume. So I changed the format and presto, she can open it. Now I don’t know if the other four can open it but you live and learn so I move on with the format and send more out today! The second thing I learned is this. The expat world and the jobs within this world are competitive and hard to come by. Good to know I suppose. I know I will find work, where that might be remains to be seen but I have hope. I know all will be well with the universe! It’s only been two days since I got my permit. I need some patience.
Yesterday Dutchie called the insurance company so that I might finally be insured in Holland. Now because I am an expat, protocol requires that I have psychological coverage. Why? Expats have a reputation of getting depressed once they have moved and attempted to settle down. Not all mind you but enough for the government to say that we must be covered. Ok fine, plus I have dental so now my coverage is better than Dutchies. I find that kind of funny. Papers are being sent to me so that I can sign them, give them a copy of my permit and I am insured! Another thing scratched off our list of things to do.
What I was misled about when I received my permit was the thought that my sofi-number would be on my permit or at the very least, with it. No, not the way it works. Dutchie learns via the internet what we have to do. Since there are so many just like me wanting a sofi-number you have to call and make an appointment with the tax people to pick one up. I have an appointment to go to Utrecht in two weeks to pick mine up. I can wait two weeks right? I mean I have waited this long after all. In the mean time I can put my resume out there, continue to edit my book and write. I can get on the horn with the town of Hilversum to set me up with my integration courses. So far so good! Two days of owning a permit and I feel I am right on track, for the most part anyway.
Then came last night when a man from the company Yarden came to our door. He had an appointment with us to update Dutchies insurance policy. What policy might you ask? Funeral insurance was the topic of the evening! Just like in America you have health insurance and life insurance. Same here except that you also have funeral insurance. What this means is that every month Dutchie pays Yarden money and she is covered in case she dies. They step in and cover her funeral, flowers, coffee, cakes, casket (or urn) and everything that goes with the event of someone dying. It is not a part of life insurance.
So a man named John comes over, we offer him coffee and sit down to do some paperwork. We drink our coffee, have a cigarette and get down to business, sort of. Will I be buried or cremated? Cremated. Will you be cremated here or in America? Here I state. This is an extension of Dutchies policy and he revises it all to fit me and my wants. I can go onto the site, log in and go into great detail the things that I want. If I have any questions I can email or call John. Dutchie signed the papers and I was insured. I am now officially insured for life and death. Now mind you we chatted while doing all this. Discussing the same practices in America and how expensive they are and we talked about life insurance. We finished our coffee and shook hands. Dutchie and I will now pay 16 euro a month for both of us to be taken care of in the event of our death. I am insured and now I can ride in the front of the bus if I want! I am covered!
We talked about what would happen in the event of my death over a cup of coffee and finished off with a joke. I can tell you I have never had this kind of evening in America! The expat life is finally beginning and it starts off with the discussion of my death over coffee. What a way to start!

Insurance, Funeral insurance, Yarden, Netherlands, Expat

When Dutchie, my mom and I were in NYC there was a picture taken of my mom and Dutchie. When we developed the picture we saw there was a sign which read ‘because saying “I got this in Europe” never gets old.’ We got a good laugh out of it while looking at Dutchie. Saying I got her in Europe never gets old! But anyway, a while back for her birthday and Christmas we had sent her presents; clothes and jewelry that Dutchie picked out on our hunt for the perfect gifts for the family since we couldn’t be there. It was a hit! Mom got to go to work with her new clothes and jewelry and everyone asking her where she got it, “it’s from Holland!” How cool does that sound, really! So a while back my step father and mom sent us money so we could send them coffee pads and a necklace for a co-worker of hers. Coffee pads are cheaper here and better so we bought thirty bags of coffee pads and a really nice necklace for mom’s co-worker. Now her friend could say it’s from Europe and beam. It’s like saying some of the clothes I wear are from America, Europeans love hearing it! There is just something about saying it’s from a far away land. So the postal service is a part of our life as well as my families.
So we packed up the three hundred coffee pads and a necklace. It was less than five kilo so it would only cost 31.50 euro and be there in 4-6 days! Step father and co-worker would be happy people in days! No, not the case! Dutchie sends out the box on a Monday, we let them know and happy faces were worn. A week goes by and we get an email. Where is the box? So we get the tracking number and go online. It has safely left Amsterdam and is in JFK. Well it should only take a day or so we gathered. Another four days and we receive another email. So we check again and get the same message. It is in JFK. Now my mom is on the war path. She calls the postal service. They say they have no trace of the box. Are you sure you have the right information? So we send her the tracking information we have, again. We tell her it was sent overseas by the company TNT. They did their part with great speed. It’s the USPS that seems to be dragging their feet. She calls and calls. She goes online as does Dutchie. Where oh where could our box be!
It took two weeks to get to her post office! It sat at JFK for ten days! When asked why it took so long, they had no answer. The box wasn’t tampered with so it couldn’t have been security. Now we have sent boxes before and only once before did it take this long. I have received CD’s, clothes and even Easter candy from mom. Dad has sent and we have sent stuff. Because after all, saying you got it overseas never gets old! Well, don’t always expect that when you live overseas that the stuff you want to send your loved ones will get there on time! When dealing with the USPS we have learned they aren’t always reliable. Just a hunch but I bet most Americans already know that! Oh the hair we wanted to pull out but when mom checked her PO Box two weeks later and saw it she drove to her job and handed it to her friend. Everyone went, where did you get that? Well, my daughter sent it over from Holland. Ah, her and her co-worker beamed! Wow, that’s nice; I wish I could get something from there, wish I could go myself! It truly never gets old now does it!

USPS, TNT, Netherlands, USA, Expats, Packages, presents

It started Saturday morning when Dutchie got the mail. There it was! The Hilversum seal on a white envelope with my name on it! Dutchie ran upstairs screaming it’s here, it’s here! Are you kidding me? Don’t play with me was the first thing out of my mouth. I grabbed the envelope and read the contents. I was picking up my permit on Monday! We jumped around our kitchen like a bunch of school girls! The wait was finally coming to an end! My Dutch residence permit just two days away from my finger tips! Well, two days can be a really long time! Dutchie is sick so we didn’t do much this weekend which made the weekend go by just a tad slower. Not an issue mind you, tending to Dutchie is never something I mind doing. We raced the weekend away with Burnout Revenge and watched movies while Dutchie attempted to get better.
Now Monday morning and Dutchie is getting ready for work while I tend to a few things around the house. My nerves are killing me! The suspense was so much; like an intense movie that has you on the edge of your seat the entire time! Dutchie leaves and it is only 20 minutes to 8. The office doesn’t open until 8:30. I get in the shower and get dressed. Soak the dishes, take out the trash and start a load of laundry. It’s now 8:35. Time to go!
The walk there was filled with Evanescence screaming in my ear and a cigarette I had steamed at some point. Just a ten minute walk and I was there. That’s when you take a number and wait your turn. They ding a number and direct you to a booth, ding after ding. You wait, and wait, listening for the ding that means you are up. It seems like an hour but really it has only been minutes. Then while looking at the screen that reads off numbers and tells you what you can do in Hilversum my number pops up! Booth four, it’s the moment Dutchie and I have been waiting for months now. I walk up and hand her the letter I received on Saturday. She looks my name up, checks my passport and tells me to sign here. I sign and she hands me my permit. Have a good day ma’am. That was it! The suspense, the waiting, the dings and that was it!
I now sit here looking at my permit. The permit I applied for in October, the permit Dutchie have been wanting since my first trip to Holland and the decision was made that I would live here. The entire walk home I kept thinking ‘Oh my God’ with not much else getting in my brain. Oh my God was all I could come up with. Once I hit my street I thought about making a cup of coffee and turning on the scanner but the ‘Oh my God’ kept running in my head like a broken record.
What does this mean to me, to Dutchie? This means I have a resume (CV) to write, applications to fill out and wait for them to send me information on my integration courses. I can finally work! I can finally contribute to the house and our family! I will now be a contributing member of society once again! The feeling is overwhelming and surreal. It has finally happened and I sit here excited, a little scared and silent as I process all this in my brain and try to push out the ‘Oh my God’.
I know it will be a different process than when I was in the US. I am a little scared and nerved at the process before me but also I am excited, I feel liberated somehow. I have so much ahead of me now and I look forward to all of it, even if I am a little scared, it is worth it all. The wait has been worth it. I have my permit finally! Holland here I come!

Dutch Residence Permits, living abroad, Netherlands, Expats, Immigration, Integration, Nederland

As some of my readers are aware, I met my Dutchie on-line. Goodness, it has actually been nearly seven years since we started speaking and six since the first time we met. It took five years to get my American bottom over on this side of the pond and during that time the internet and phone companies became tools for staying in touch. Once I moved here I was so pleased that hours wouldn’t be needed to write emails and IM’s, the phone bill wouldn’t be so painful to see at the end of the month. Then I did a little rethinking.
I cannot isolate myself from friends and family just because we are an ocean away. It seems that once you start using the internet for communication it simply never stops! I call my mother about once a week, my father almost the same. Then the friends I want to stay in touch with. How did I ever think that the internet wouldn’t be an important part of my existence any more I just do not know? Delusions I suppose. I still look at the phone bill every month and see how much damage I did that month it some attempt to make the Atlantic Ocean’s vast space not so when keeping in touch with the family. I still sit here on the computer and rummage through emails and IM’s. I can remember a time when I wanted no part of computers, now I don’t know what I would do without it!
It has been some time since I first crossed the ocean in order to find Dutchie and the life I wanted and I still get surprised at the power of the internet. I am now in my twenties and I came across a face I hadn’t seen since I was thirteen years old! A dear friend I got in so much trouble with and truly loved having in my life. This was a time when computers and Yahoo didn’t exist in our world, just our rooms and as much of the outside world as our parents would let us see.
It has been a little over ten years since we lost touch for circumstances out of our hands, being children. And just like that, with a click of a mouse, I had seen my long lost friend and the emails started! MySpace is the place to find all those old high school buddies now a days and I fell right into the flow that MySpace gives us when attempting to keep in touch, people across town or a continent away.
Since we only found each other this week there is much to share! I honestly never thought I would find her again. It had been too long I reasoned, I was on the wrong side of the pond. Who would have foreseen this? Even though I live in Europe I am not lost to those I love and can even find old familiar faces now and again. So I pay homage to the communication age! I am corny I know but ever so grateful!

long distance relationships, MySpace, friends, long lost friends, expats, living abroad, expat life

I never think to myself, did I make the right decision to move to another country, nor do I consider that I might have made a mistake in doing so. Yet there are days where I feel the side effects of such a decision.
I spoke with my dad on Thursday and wasn’t expecting him to be so sad and inform me that he had news. Our dog was sick with lung cancer and the agonizing decision of putting her down fell on his and my brother’s shoulders. She came to us when I was only twelve and while I moved out when I was nineteen she remained a part of the family living with my dad and brother. For fourteen and a half years she greeted everyone at the door, was always under our feet and barking when she wanted back in the house. I missed a lot when I moved out, only seeing her when I came from another state to visit. I was only with her every day for seven years; my family however had her every day for fourteen and a half years.
She was the first pet we had in the home. I remember falling in love with her when she was just a pup. I would brush her hair, play tug of war with socks, throw the ball for her and let her out after school. When I moved out I was always happy to see her at the door or out on the patio, still brushing her hair when there and throwing her tennis ball. Yet I only saw her once in two years, the last time being when I took Dutchie to meet the family in New York. By that time she couldn’t see and her hearing was going but she was still about; old age was catching up with her. I just didn’t see her getting this sick, I thought old age would find her finally one day and take her in her sleep.
It’s hard being so far away while my family goes through this. She was my puppy too and I can’t be there with them. I couldn’t be with them to say goodbye to our pup. I sit here with my coffee and try to write with thoughts of her running around my head. There are side effects to moving so far and I feel them now. Tears are trying to find a way out and all I want to do is hug my family and say I am sorry I wasn’t there with you.

I am tired, so very tired. It seems I have to defend myself often to those who don’t seem to understand me anymore or to individuals I don’t even know. I am just an American and all Americans are the same right? That’s what I am told anyway. When I first moved here I never thought I was going to have to deal with looks and comments and carry on the reputation of an entire nation whenever I opened my mouth and yet I feel I do at times. Most people I attempt to simply ignore and walk away from as I don’t know them any more than they know me and I don’t feel this overwhelming desire to defend myself to strangers. It’s hard to carry your head high walking away all the time. Though when it comes to people I do know that’s a different matter entirely and to defend myself to them is exhausting me. I have changed too much being in Europe and I have lost that American pride and patriotism to some. I don’t see my country the same and it shows. I have become too opinionated and outspoken to those that thought me shy. You need to be more American, you need to show them how Americans really are. I don’t want to carry on that task and they press on, that’s un-American or that’s not the way we do it here. I am not there anymore!

When we went to New York for two and a half weeks I felt so lost; I felt this sudden urge to grab the next flight out of JFK back to Holland. I had become too accustomed to living in Europe. Not just the food, architecture and other such trivial things but the people, the mentalities and personalities I have become comfortable in. We talked politics and I finally had an opinion, my interaction with my family and my surroundings weren’t as reserved as they once had been. I felt different so I spoke different and acted different. I love living in Europe, I love Holland and want to understand and become a part of my surroundings. Does that mean I lose a part of myself along the way? Do I become un-American in doing so and no longer carry that torch of showing the world who America is?

No I didn’t vote for Bush, no I don’t like the policies on Iraq and gay marriage, yes I want change and yes I am glad the democrats took congress. These are the things I have to express because not everyone one agrees with the current administration and since Bush got elected twice it seems a common opinion that all Americans voted him in. I do not represent the entire population of America, I represent me, myself and I. Americans are looked at as selfish, unmotivated and full of talk with not much to say but this isn’t all Americans. Americans are looked at as war hungry, censored, prejudicial and a nation without its own opinion. It isn’t the case for all Americans. I can no more represent America than I do Europe or Holland. That’s why we have Ambassadors and representatives who are nominated and elected to do the job, it doesn’t rest on the tourists and expats but so often it does. We carry the weight whether we like it or not. Just as anyone coming to America or any other country they represent their country and people, whether they want the weight or not. It just is.

I have adapted to the surroundings I put myself in and it doesn’t always agree with friends and family. Yes I do things that aren’t quite American but I don’t live in America any more yet somehow this makes me un-American. I defend my country in some areas and I am told I am a typical American, opinionated and unable to see anyone else’s point of view; if I disagree I am unpatriotic. How can I win? Where do I fit in? If it just is how do I make the weight more bearable?

I am simply tired. I am tired of people not understanding, tired of being expected to stay American and tired of being expected to give it up. I know not everyone is expected to understand and I respect the opinions of others when it comes to my decisions and changes. I am just tired.

expat life, American expat

I was on the telephone with my mother the other day as I usually call her once a week. She tells me she still gets people going on about how I live in Europe. It’s so exotic and exciting! Is she touring Europe while she lives there? She also gets asked a lot if I am coming home and she has to inform them that Europe is home now. I would love to be there when people I knew find my mother and ask her about me and she tells them. The stories she tells me and I miss the live version! It’s like telling how the Red Sox won the World Series; it just isn’t the same if you didn’t watch it. When we spoke she told me about bumping into my old youth group leaders when I was thirteen and fourteen. It made me giggle on how she replayed the interaction and how they took it. Is it really that exotic to live in Europe to the average American? Though I have to remember that most of my family and friends would only leave Long Island for a vacation, the concept of living elsewhere seems to be a stretch of the imagination. Why move when you are happy or comfortable right where you are? I can understand that. So both my mother and I get the ‘why did you do that?’ ‘Did she really move for good?’

Back in 05 when I told my family that I wanted to move to the Netherlands I had one member tell me I would hate it. That life on the other side of the pond was different and I wouldn’t understand it or be able to adjust to it. Well, my anxieties about the culture shock just went up ten notches because of that. I had a lot of reactions from ‘wow isn’t that the country that has wooden shoes and everyone lives in windmills’ to I would hate it to my personal favorite. ‘Now I have a good reason to go to Europe!’ Though I still get what’s it like? Do you like it and are really happy and the one I get the most is still, I can’t believe you did that!

I don’t think it’s all that exotic. In fact it can be quite similar to my life in America. Bills need to be paid, gas is overpriced and life is a two income household. What is so different about that? What is so exotic about the grocery store, shopping for clothes going on vacation? According to my family it isn’t just shopping. It’s shopping in Europe! It’s driving to Germany like driving to Jersey but to them it’s Germany!

Don’t get me wrong there are a lot of things that are beautiful, exotic and breathtaking when in Europe that you don’t see in America. Yet even my day to day activity is fascinating to some because it’s not America. The food, fashion and automobiles are different so therefore it’s amazing and exotic. Maybe it’s me because I eat the food everyday and wear the clothes and I lost that whoa feeling that I had when I first landed. What do you think?

Netherlands, living abroad, expats