Dutch Birthdays

February is the birthday-month for me. Not that mine falls in February, but many others do: my mother's, my sister's, my father-in-law's, and some of my best friends'.

Birthdays are of course celebrations, but they are not celebrated the same way everywhere around the world. As I have learned since I've been living in the Netherlands. No dramatic difference with French birthdays, but still...

The traditional birthdays, like the ones you experience at your in-laws, go this way: the birthday boy or girl will stay home all day in case anyone would show up unannounced. There will always be coffee, tea and cake available. If it's not a special birthday, don't expect an invitation, but know that you will be expected! And if it's your birthday, know that you are supposed to have cake in the house!
As I already said, coffee, tea and cake will be the main ingredients of the birthday. That's what you will be welcomed with. You will usually get one piece of cake, with one cup of tea or coffee, before moving on to salty snacks along with sodas, beer and wine. That's about it!

If you go out for drinks or food, know one more thing: you are expected to treat others for your own birthday! Yep, the other way around!

But still after 12,5 years living in the Netherlands, there is one birthday tradition I can't get used to. First of all, you don't really say 'Happy Birthday' to the birthday boy or girl, you congratulate them with their birhday: 'Gefeliciteerd (Congratulations) met je verjaardag (with your birthday)'. But the strange thing is that you congratulate their family, as well as any other person attending the birthday party. Really?! Why?! This still remains a mystery to me...

The best of both worlds

Sometimes you can feel torn apart when you're an expat. But a lot of times, you actually feel richer then others. Richer because you get the best of two worlds! The best of two countries and two cultures. How cool is that?

That's exactly how I would describe my feeling a few weeks ago.

On Wednesday night I went to a concert in Paris with my parents. I attended one of the greatest French music concerts: the concert of the Enfoirés. Every year, this is a much-awaited event, as it has been for years now. It's an adventure that started in 1986, with one song to support a good cause. It has never stopped since and keeps reuniting France's most famous singers, actors, stand-up comedians and others. They offer the public a 4 or 5-hour long concert.

It was my second time and, once more, I loved it! Great music, great artists, lots of fun and a great spectacle!

 It also felt good to sort of go back to my roots, with French music sang by French singers in a huge Parisian concert hall.

Les Enfoirés 2016, Paris, France

 

The Monday after, I was back in the Netherlands and ready for my second concert of the year. And this time one of the greatest Dutch concerts, with friends and family! Namely, 'De Vrienden van Amstel live'. This also has been a musical tradition for years in the Netherlands. Great Dutch singers and bands get together for a series of concerts (this year 9 in a row!!) that is sure to get you dancing, singing along... and drinking beer!

It's even called 'the largest café in the Netherlands'. This concert gives all its meaning to the untranslatable Dutch word 'gezellig': music, friends, cosiness, party and drinks, all together!

That evening, I was felt really Dutch, singing along with huge classics. I even had one of my dreams come true: seeing the former Dutch band Acda en de Munnik singing together again.

Can't wait till next year!

De Vrienden van Amstel live 2016, Rotterdam, the Netherlands

 

Being French after the Paris attacks

Friday November the 13th 2015: It started as a very nice day in Amsterdam for me. A great Friday filled with shopping and high tea with my sister-in-law. A day filled with fun, laughter and talks about having children, as my sister-in-law is expecting.

An evening filled with laughter and songs as I was driving to France with my husband. It had been planned for months: we were going to spend the weekend at my parents’ place because it was too long to wait till Christmas and they were having a nice theme dinner in their village. The atmosphere was definitely light and joyful.

Arriving close to Paris, we saw signs that we should avoid the Stade de France area. Just a normal sign on a game night. We did wonder which way we should take: to the right or to the left of the stadium? But no traffic, just the way to the stadium that had been blocked by the police and the bright lights of the stadium. We even said to each other “What a big party tonight! We should check which game or which concert it is as soon as we get home!”.

At that moment, I don’t really know why, but I picked my phone out of my bag and saw that my parents had called and left a message on my answering machine. So I turned my roaming on and saw that my mom had also left me a Facebook message to let me know about the game and that we would probably have traffic. No need to call them back then…

But at that moment I started receiving other messages, on Whatsapp this time… From a group of French girlfriends living in the Netherlands like me. About how horrific it was in Paris… “What?! How?! What are they talking about?! We are driving in Paris right now?!...” And then they answered it was about a hostage situation and an attack!

Now I really needed to call my parents back… They were so relieved to hear from us! But when they told me about the bombs at the stadium, the gunmen, the hostage situation in a concert hall… all I could do was cry. I cried and felt relieved we were leaving Paris and its area.

When we arrived at my parents’ place, the joy and lightness of the whole weekend was gone. We watched TV for a while, we checked Facebook and I heard some of my friends were just a few streets away from the gunmen’s attacks. They were in Paris for two concerts. As were my parents a weekend earlier. And my husband went to Paris for a football game three weeks earlier.

All of a sudden it’s all so close, so personal!

I finally went to bed, but could hardly sleep. Every time I woke up I hoped it was all a nightmare… but it wasn’t! In the morning, I first checked Facebook to check on people I know and I felt big tears rolling on my cheeks.

Saturday was a very emotional day. And in the middle of all this crying and following the news, I was asked to do the most special translation ever: I was asked to translate the condolence letter from the Mayor of Amsterdam to the Mayor of Paris.

That was it: that was my way of doing something meaningful in this horrible situation. A mix of sadness, honor and pride, all at once.

I think I’ve never felt more French. I’ve never been chauvinistic, but for the first time ever, I felt proud of my flag, proud of my land, proud of my people.

All these French flags invading Facebook, even from my Dutch friends. That felt good and soothing.

On Sunday, I went back home, back to Holland. Even if I didn’t do more than a translation, it felt right to be at ‘home’, to be in France that weekend. That’s where I wanted to be and where I needed to be at that time.

One thing is sure, now even more than before that terrible Friday night: I have two homes, two countries which I love very much, and when they bleed and suffer, I do too.

Your Dutch best friend... Or not?!

When you live in the Netherlands, even if you're not a materialist, you'll find out pretty soon that your best friend has become nothing less than an object!...
Indeed: your new best friend, with whom you will have a deeply love-hate relationship, will be your bike.

Take me a few weeks ago for example...
My bike takes me almost everywhere: to the office, the gym, the grocery store, etc. So when I got a flat tyre the other day, just rushing to a meeting, I didn't feel too happy to say the least. Fortunately, I was just leaving home and could take another bike. But that other bike was too high... Well, I still had to go to that meeting and didn't want to be too late, so I did my best to get my bottom on the high saddle and I biked on the tip of my toes.

Thanks to my husband and nephew's help, my bike was fixed and I could go to the office the day after... until my chain got stuck! It was so stuck that I couldn't fix it myself, so I walked to a bike shop.
Can you imagine how long walking seems to take when you could be biking?!...
A very kind man at the shop got my chain loose and off I went to the office... until my tyre got flat again!
Really?! Are you kidding me?

So I had to walk again... to another bike shop where I had to leave my bike for a whole weekend.  A whole weekend?!

At that exact moment, you feel it: even though you've been cursing this bike a few times on your way to the office, you hate the idea of being apart from each other for a whole weekend. What to do without it? Where to go? And how to get there?
Yep, that's true: it's your best friend and you don't wanna miss it.

And what about the week after?... When you get it back from the shop. You've paid a significant amount of money to get your beloved bike fixed and you can finally get back home together. You're happy the tyre is now strong and the chain all greased.
But of course it's raining cats and dogs! You're soaking wet. Trying to bike as fast as you can, holding your hood with one hand. Biking right behind three young girls, so close you only see the pole in the middle of the road when they get to the side and when it's already to late to avoid it.
And you know what your first thought is when you fall? Even before feeling the pain in your leg and fingers? How's my bike?! Is it still ok and can I still bike home?

.... That, my friends, is true friendship, Dutch style!!

Season confusion

During my childhood in France, I remember how annoying it was to see school stuff appearing in supermarkets while we were still enjoying summer holidays. But it seems to be getting worse every year. Now you see school stuff for the new school year in every store before the current school year is even over. That means in June, when kids are still in school!

Dutch stores don't seem to be better with their timing. I guess they experience some kind of season confusion. My head is still on holidays, wishing for a beautiful Indian summer and there they are: "Strooigoed". Stores are already getting ready for Sinterklaas (Sint Nicolas)... But do they know that schools have just started and that this beloved Sinterklaas won't be in the Netherlands before November??

Why is that? Are they too impatient? Confused? Eager to sell?

All I know is that I find it confusing... Just respect the seasons.

Admit it....

You have to admit... 

Wouldn't you fall in love with this city too? 

View of the Prinsengracht canal in Amsterdam. September 2015

Love at first sight

Some see them as ‘Kaaskoppen’ (cheese heads), or the craziest supporters dressed in outrageously over-the-top orange outfits. Walking around with wooden clogs, world travelers, German (close enough), and so on...

But that's not how I see them, how I used to see them... ‘Handsome surf dudes’: that's exactly why I fell for the Dutchies! Tall, blond, tanned, strong...

You have to forgive me... I was just 15 and spending summer holidays in France, my own country. I was there with my parents and my sister. She wanted to learn how to surf. I wanted to get to know surfers... Well, more seriously speaking, I was a typical teenage girl who didn't mind spending her holidays on a sunny beach, watching young surfers trying to catch the perfect wave.

So it's in that wonderful village, with its sun and sea vibe, that I've got to know Dutch people. I didn't know much about the Netherlands. Of course I knew about Dutch cheese, windmills and tulips, but not much more than that. As a teenager, I discovered a whole new side of the Netherlands: their handsome, sportive young men. A side that wasn't too unpleasant to get to know!

What was so fascinating to me was their general personality:  they seemed to be so free-spirited! I loved their open-mindedness and fun attitude.

And what was meant to happen, happened: one of those summers, I did fall madly in love with one of those handsome Dutch guys. It was of course a beautiful and ideal summer love. We believed in our love story and it was forever... Except that this first love was as endless as summer in Europe: it wasn't! 

But this first love did leave more than heartache behind: I had had the chance to visit him in his country and that's where another love found its way to my heart... I fell in love with the Netherlands! Too late, my heart was lost and this country would be mine, one day...  

Today, years later, my teenage hormones have left my body, but I'm still in love with the Netherlands. And you know what?... I am now proud to call this country my home.
I know that these Dutchies aren't all handsome surfers, but I still like their free-spirit and open-mindedness.

I have even found my own Dutch guy: tall and handome of course!