Excelling as an Expat: 'Home' in a new country

May I just preface this post with: "I do not have all the answers to being an expat très excellent."
However, I do know that the trick to being a good expat in the Netherlands is becoming an expert cyclist. I am very proud of the fact that I cycled through the centre of town this afternoon, on a Saturday, through the market and no one died. I was also a bicycle passenger yesterday and survived with my legs (just) in tact. I will not hasten to say I'm "getting it", but I am hopeful.

I will have been in Groningen five months tomorrow, and what fantastic months they have been! I'm starting to feel a bit more at home, which is a clue for any expat that something is going right. Firstly, I should however point out, that no matter how long we expats live in any one country, we will always be foreign. This used to bother me greatly when I lived in England, because, dash it all, I have a British passport and I feel English. Somehow, my odd accent and optimism usually gave me away as "not being local".

Here, people don't mind where you are from. Groningen has a massive international population, mostly due to the University. I love it. Meeting people from all over the world everyday is a wonderful thing, and from what I've seen so far, a very positive thing here - the colliding of cultures in the best way possible. I'm a foreigner here, an expat, a traveller, and an observer all in one. I have the advantage of knowing the local lingo so I can get away with sometimes being one of the crowd. This brings me to my second point: getting to know the local language is another good thing as an expat. It brings you that much closer to the culture of the country and let's be honest, who doesn't like to eavesdrop? I was sat at the Grote Markt in the sun this morning, overhearing a wonderful conversation about a new film. Local insights, another good thing!

Sunset after a week of rain, as seen from the attic room

My third point that would perhaps be useful for excelling as an expat is taking that leap towards new things. In a new country, everything from the supermarkets, music, roads, clothes, and pubs are different. It is both exciting and frustrating when having to figure out what food to buy at the supermarket - especially in a new language. Figuring out what things you like takes time and some trial and error, but that too is exciting. Try new things all the time and you'll soon find what it is you enjoy. I'm still finding things that are new to me, and that makes my time here all the more interesting. Recently, for example, I've found a pub that serves about 100 different types of beer. That should keep me busy over the summer...

So cycling, speaking appalling grammatically incorrect Dutch, trying new things and accepting the fact that I will always be 'foreign' have made these few months interesting. It has been a whirlwind of languages, new people, teaching, writing, and playing music. The music community here has been so supportive and encouraging. As I said in my previous post, I'm often so happy I'm fit to burst. Now that the summer has arrived and everything is in bloom I'm a) suffering from allergies, but more happily b) I'm seeing the beauty of the north of the Netherlands from the ground up.

Life here in the attic room is grand, and Groningen is abuzz with summer sounds. A non stop party; life.

Happiness in Groningen

7am Terschelling Quayside

I took the above photo on a winter's morn at a freezing 7am on the island of Terschelling. I was setting out to find a room in Groningen, a whole list of places to see lined up for the day. I didn't find a place that time; nor the next trip, but when I finally found where I'm living now (my lovely attic room) I hadn't even been inside it. I loved the photos online, really liked the folks renting it out, but the door up to the room was locked, the current tenant away for Christmas. (And not like 'away' in another city, but 'away' in another country!) I made the decision to take the room based solely on my gut reaction, and as usual, I'm really glad I did. It was the beginning of another wonderful adventure.

I've added the quote to the photo because it has been playing on my mind all week. I've thought and thought about it, because it so matches my current state of mind. Which is to say, I'm so happy all the time I'm fit to burst!

To say I'm often overwhelmed by my happiness would not be exaggerating. Sometimes, I think a person has to reach the bottom of themselves: to be so low and unhappy that they see precisely what they never want to be, and race towards the light once more. Perhaps you cannot have one without the other. At the end of the day, we are only ever faced with ourselves, don't you think?

Why am I so happy? Well, I believe it is through learning how to be content. I might even go so far as to say this is an age thing. We must learn how to be content - it isn't necessarily an easy thing everyone can automatically do. Self acceptance and self perception go with this.

There are times that the sceptic in me peers around the corners of this happiness and wonders can it really last? Isn't this just a false feeling that is setting me up for an even greater fall? I think these are fears we all face, and it is the mindset that we choose that is our deciding factor. This is not to say I wake up each day bouncing off the walls; nor am I always patient or forgiving. However, I made a concious decision to be sure of my mindset. Positive thinking: no negative energy here! After leaving England I made a pact with myself that there would be no more whinging - it is MY life, so I'd be do something about it if it wasn't going as I'd planned. (Certainly easier said than done, but surprising effective once achieved). You see, I came to the sudden realisation that if I wasn't willing to get up and change things, then there probably wasn't much point in complaining.

 Anyway, to come back to the quote above, I realised that it is a constant feeling of thankfulness that puts me in this happy state. My life isn't perfect, naturally, but as I say, I am learning contentedness. I am thankful for each day on this earth. I wake up each morning eager (ok, maybe only after my first cup of Earl Grey...); I make a point to consistently do things I enjoy and approach things that frighten me with enthusiasm. Teaching is tough some days - fifteen or more pairs of eyes all staring at you is not exactly easy on the nerves; or playing my music in pubs full of people that may or may not be interested to hear a folk song - ab.so.lute.ly terrifying. And I love it. I feel so alive, and by doing these things that challenge me I can feel myself growing and learning each day. I sit and write for hours on end until my eyes ache; I read books or watch films that I enjoy; I go out and speak a different language and make mistakes that I can laugh about; I meet people from all around the world on a daily basis. And finally, at the end of the day, I look forward to going to bed to sleep the untroubled sleep of one fulfilled.

My days are fulfilling, I think it is safe to say. I am not bragging here, please believe me - I am merely trying to point out that by changing my mindset to think positively, be inquisitive, be willing to say yes to things that frighten me, and to be willing to laugh at myself at times has made me into this happy person. I'm thankful for the small things, from the way people say hi on the street, to the way the beer tastes on really hot days, to the way my hair curls when I come in from the rain. I love walking through the city and hearing humanity around me; I love the long light of summer and the stories I hear from the people I meet. I enjoy living in a country where English is not the first language. I take pleasure and enjoyment in everything I do - I live with purpose. I love myself and the life I have chosen to lead as it brings me such joy. Because, honestly, what the hell's the point otherwise?

Thankfulness and gratefulness are separate in my book: I always feel gratefulness comes with strings attached, whereas thankfulness is more like being aware and appreciative. I see the world in a different way when I'm thankful. A friend said to me the other week how nice it was that I could say so honestly that I was happy - that it in turn made her happy! Positive energy is more powerful than we know. These days, when negative energy starts to fly, I run like a scalded cat. (Now there's an image).

I cannot tell you what to do, I can only share what has been a most eye opening experience for me. By embracing a positive mindset and not allowing myself to feel guilty any longer for being happy, I feel I can live well. I could go on for ages about this subject; it is something I have become passionate about because I have felt the effects of what being content with oneself can bring about. We are all wonderful, amazing people with an incredible capacity for love and kindness. It is staggering when you think about it. What did Ghandi say? "Be the change you want to see in the world." Exactly.

Live happily, live truly, and most of all, live true to yourself!

Reconnaissance across Groningen: A Cycling Adventure

There are times, particularly when the sun is shining, when it is time to get out from behind the desk. Having spent a weekend writing, playing music, and generally enjoying myself, I thought I should do some work today. I was very studious and (somewhat) focused until about mid-afternoon. I hadn't planned on having an adventure today, but then again, each day usually tends to be some kind of adventure in my life, so I wasn't altogether surprised.

To reach the northern part of the city of Groningen I usually take the bus, but now with the onslaught of lovely weather, I decided it is no longer a good excuse. I have some places to be in the north in the coming week and I thought it best to 'do a reccy' (reconnaissance) to suss out which bicycle paths I would need to take. I studied the map before I left, and it looked fairly simple. I did not, however, take the map with me, thinking it would be easy to remember. My father always did warn me about complacency....

I set off on my clunking, Batavus bicycle, spending the first ten minutes stuck in traffic at stop lights. So much for it being a quick reconnaissance mission. The first bit of the trip once I was out of the traffic was fairly uneventful. I had a pleasant run, and according to my calculations of landmarks, everything was going well. I was passing through suburbia, blocks of flats rising like sores on the city's skyline, and it wasn't until I came to a rather terrifying roundabout that things took a turn. 

This roundabout, right, is insane. While it does have a cycle lane, I not only had to look four different directions, but I must watch out for cars, mopeds, pedestrians and the ever present danger of mad Dutch cyclists. After a few seconds of unladylike expletives, I was safely through. I kept down this street, thinking 'I must be there soon.' I knew the general area of where I was going, having seen it from the bus window, but this wasn't looking familiar. I knew from my memory of the map that if I ended up in the platteland (countryside) I would have gone too far. 

I went too far. 

Suddenly, I was in a lovely area of small, winding canals and pasture land full of birds. Nice as it was, I knew I'd gone wrong somewhere. I turned back and found a bus stop - all the bus stops with a shelter have maps of the city - and figured out where I was. I couldn't quite see where I'd gone wrong, but I knew I had to go back. I certainly took a wrong turn again somewhere, because for the next 45 minutes I cruised through all the straten (streets), lanen (lanes), and wegen (ways) imaginable. 

At one point I found myself in a sort of retail park, then I was cycling past old fabrieks (factories), schools with screaming children, a sports ground. I began to wonder if I was still even in the right area. I knew I was still in Groningen at least. Across a sort of ditch I could see a half familiar block of flats through the trees. Typical Netherlands, being blocked by water...I managed to find a path that went along it and eventually over it. The bullfrogs were croaking like mad (mating season?) all sounding like Kookaburras with a nasty cold.

Now I found myself in a sort of "Furniture Centre" - huge stores full of sofas, mattresses, and carpets were screaming their discounts at me as I went past. I didn't know I could get 20% off if I bought two sofas... I also went past a sort of warehouse called, rather worryingly, "Baby Dump" (I kid [no pun intended] you not). I really hope it is either a three story crèche or some place that sells prams...

Anyway, I continued on, being attacked by small insects and allergies. (With the warm weather, everyone is cutting the grass!). After stopping at another bus halt, I saw I was on the right track. Rather promisingly I began to recognise things. It was only when I arrived at the ruddy roundabout again I realised why. I had gone in a very large circle, only to end up back where I'd gone wrong! I took a different turning off the roundabout this time and found the actual area I'd been looking for was not two streets away. Most annoying. 

After my rather long, hot detour I turned tail and headed back towards the city centre. The fact that poor Barney (that's the bicycle, by the way - he couldn't really continue to go unnamed after this adventure) and I could have avoided getting lost if I'd persevered for another two streets was maddening, but altogether fun. I've seen far more of Groningen than I anticipated, and it was gorgeous weather for getting lost in. 

As we neared the city centre I also realised that had I taken a left turn at the end of the canal at the start of the journey, I would have shaved off another fifteen minutes and avoided half a dozen roadworks....Ah well, live and learn. We arrived back safely and I had a few ice creams to rejuvenate.

I know for next time at least - take the map!
(Of course if I was one of these cool kids with a smartphone I would never have been lost, never had a hot, sweaty trip across the wilds of the north city, and would have, equally, nothing to write about. Sometimes, old fashioned is more fun...but I will remember the map next time...)

Groningen Life: Waving to the King

It rained for a week. A week. The kind of rain that woke me up at three am from pounding on the roof of the attic room. Being able to forgo the bicycle and walk everywhere, I didn't mind. I'm becoming quite adept at using an umbrella in fact. After this week of rain, it left us feeling cool and refreshed, and we are now enjoying the beginnings of summer. The attic room is sweltering.

I'm not complaining, please believe me. I love that the weather can be contrary. I like that it thumbs its nose at us and does what it likes. A sort of free spirit than can never be tamed, the weather. Today, I officially declared summertime by rolling up my trousers, putting on my Chacos for the first time this year, and going into town for an ice cream.

Currently, there is a kermis or fair/carnival going on in town. It's been here for a week and I'm rather hoping it will shove off soon. When the wind is in the wrong direction I hear people screaming and loud bass music for hours on end from the fair rides.

Vismarkt kermis

Both the Grote Markt and the Vismarkt are inenundated with fair rides and it crossed my mind that dodgy rides and a week of rain isn't the best combination. Mind you, you couldn't pay me to ride those contraptions. Not for all the tea in China would I get on one. Not even the cute, kiddie trains - nope, not happening. I usually end up holding the bags and waiting patiently at the bottom for everyone else. (I did this once at Luna Park in Sydney, Australia for an entire evening. It was most pleasant - I came away with my hair intact and my bowels where I left them...)

I do, however, quite like kermis food! The famous Oliebollen have made their appearance again, so naturally I've already bought half a dozen. There are also currywurst stalls, American bbq and hamburgers stands, Spanish churros, candy floss, sweets, ice cream - you name it.

I went down to the kermis today to have an ice cream (and if I'm being honest, a few oliebollen) and to soak up the sun. It was wonderful to bake a bit and watch the world go by. I brought only myself and a few euros - no phone, no distractions. It really is lovely at times just to be. To feel energised by the sun and feel peace around you. People watching is always a most amusing past time anyway. There are some places you can really get away with it: parks or town squares, airports, and on trains. I hope I'm not making it sound creepy, but it is just nice to see other people enjoying themselves (or not, as the case may be). Human nature is fascinating.


Anyway, the big news of the week actually is: I got to see the King! Koning Willem-Alexander himself! He came to officially open the commemoration of 400 years of the Rijksuniversiteit Groningen.

King Willem-Alexander (middle)

I must say I was fairly chuffed. It's not the first time I've seen royalty, but this somehow brings me a bit closer to my new country. It's so relaxed here too - a few policeman and public ordinance officers, and that was it! I went to a political rally once in the States and they had snipers, armed military, sniffer dogs, etc. Anyway, I really enjoyed waving to the King, and Groningen will now be in a state of "party, party, party" for the month long commemoration. And boy, do the Dutch know how to party!

Life is good here in the (sunny) Netherlands!

(An article with yours truly [me] was released this week from the folks over at ExpatBlogs - have a look here.)

Greetings from the Continent

Each country has its own unwritten social 'rules', and some that I find quite interesting are greetings in Europe. While there is the usual run of the mill handshake, between friends there are also kisses on the cheek. Most places in Europe keep it simple at a kiss on either cheek. It varies in France as two, three, and even four (!) kisses depending on where you are in the country. In Britain, one can never be sure if it is just one kiss on the cheek, or if it is two. There this lingering doubt if two is being "rather Continental, what." In the Netherlands it is three kisses (which in my opinion is one more than necessary...after two there is a real danger of knocking noses...)

Having grown up in the States where hugging is more common, I find this cheek-kissing-as-a-greeting rather lovely. It's warm and friendly besides being quite social. It's something too that makes you feel properly on the Continent. Other things that invoke this feeling is ciao! which can be heard in many other countries besides Italy; the use of hands to illustrate a point (I'm not naming names, but the Spanish have this off to a fine art...); wearing leather and Ray-Bans; the art of drinking coffee; fashion and art just about everywhere; and really old buildings (I mean really old) that look perfectly normal next to a modern monstrosity.

Why is this all occurring to me now? Britain may be part of Europe, but they are quite separate in their own way. There is definitely a different atmosphere on mainland Europe. The last six months here in the Netherlands has shown me that while the Brits are lovely, they have a lot to learn (myself included) about living like a European. It's not all just beer, socialism, and sporty cars. It's a different mindset altogether.

Enjoying a cuppa on a terrace in Paris (2011)

Take coffee or tea for example: there is nothing more off putting than being served a hot beverage in cardboard. If I sit down to have a cup of tea in a café, I would like it, in fact, in a cup. Cafe's here serve coffee/tea with a flourish. It's as if it has become something of an art form....Animal shapes in the the coffee foam, intricate cups and saucers with witty poems...my loose leaf tea came served in a French press today. Maybe it's a slight hangover of my American life, but something inside me can't help but squeal, "How delightfully European!" Also, everyone sits outside on terraces drinking coffee at all times of the day. This too is delightfully European, because only they would endure the chill.

Or we can even look at fashion. I don't quite know how they do it, but everywhere I look on the streets of Groningen, it's like the people have stepped out of the pages of Vogue. The men with their leather and sun glasses and gelled hair; women with boots and skirts and scarves. It's all fantastically chic, full of colour and vigour, and it has made yours truly think twice about what to wear in the morning.

What I also noticed today while out and about was that it was Papa Day - when the father's look after the children too small yet to go to school, allowing mother to continue with her career as well. The Netherlands (much like the other Scandinavian countries) is quite tuned in when it comes to children and family life. I like this idea that the parents split both work and childcare down the middle. It is also incredibly endearing to see all these tall, blond hair, blued eyed, gorgeously (and fashionably) scruffy dads, walking around with babies strapped to their chests, holding the hands of toddlers, or pushing (also fashionable) baby carriages.

While it seems I spend my days loitering in cafés - I don't, honestly - it was nice to see dads coming in with their children to have a snack or go shopping with child in tow. I would hasten to add that it wasn't frazzled father's I was seeing either - these were dads that were enjoying their "Papa day" with the kids. How great that children get to spend equal time with the parents. I hope this idea will continue to grow and that we will see it more often.

Before someone pokes me and says, "well obviously you're on the Continent, they aren't speaking English!" I would like to say I love this about it too. It's a challenge! Western Europe may be joined through the Euro (for better or worse), but each country's language makes them unique. Whenever you get near the "borders", signs suddenly become chock full of different languages (usually about three). This too I like. If my French is hopeless, my German is at least slightly less so, and so on - again there is that exercising of what you know.

I could go on until next century about this subject of "Examples of Continental Europe as seen in The Netherlands" but let me come back to the greetings. It is something that one learns - some are quite shy about it, others fairly flamboyant with their greetings. It becomes a whole intricate dance, and if you wear glasses it can become slightly dangerous. But I do like it - there is something about it that is open and welcoming. Also, as I say, it does make you feel very much "on the Continent".

Thanks to films and books we like to think of Europe as this devastatingly romantic place. I would say that it is to a certain extent. Yes, it is expensive and crowded, and waiters have been trained to ignore you until the last possible moment, but it is also full of rich history that has trickled down the ages to make it this wonderful modern hub of creativity and energy.

I love it.

Liberation Day in The Netherlands

On May 5, 1945 the First Canadian Army was largely responsible for the liberation of the Netherlands. British troops, American airborne divisions, and Polish troops were also a part of this, causing the German forces to capitulate. Each year, The Netherlands celebrates Bevrijdingsdag or Liberation Day. It really begins, however, the day before with Dodenherdenking, or The Remembrance of the Dead, on May 4th.

This is my second year taking part in these memorial occasions. I still find it overwhelming to think that the Dutch people had to endure five years of occupation and all the horror that comes with it. My knowledge of world history around this period of time is fairly good, but I have always seen it through British eyes. Seeing it through an occupied people's eyes, however, changes the perspective greatly. I think about how there was no food. Anywhere. At least in Britain, the food that was grown could be kept and used at home, or sent to the armed forces. In occupied Europe, all the food went to the occupiers. This was the case in Germany too: all the food went the Wehrmacht.

I make a point about the food because it occurred to me that while one would feel utter outrage and indignation at being occupied, it is in fact when you become hungry that you feel the real grasp of war.

Flight Sgt Barham, 22, Wireless Operator RAF

I like to spend this time with family, one reason being so I can ask questions and hear the stories from that time. I think my generation has a sort of morbid fascination with the Second World War. Everything changed after it, and I think we are still, even now, attempting to understand it all. On the island of Terschelling there is a beautiful military cemetery. After the war people were assigned graves to look after. Sixty-nine years later, this still continues. We lay flowers on the grave and make sure they are looking smart.

It is heartbreaking to read how young they all were. Nineteen, twenty-one, twenty-two. Boys, really. The German, French, and American soldiers have all been repatriated, but much like the fields in France and Belgium, the other Allied forces decided to let them lay in peace. There are boys from the RAF, shot down near the island. Royal Navy boys too, drowned in the icy waters of the North Sea. Australian, Polish, and New Zealand Air Forces. They all are there together.

Commemoration Wreaths - Terschelling

We marched along the cobbled streets, through the village to the cemetery, the flags all at half mast. The band played patriotic tunes, and at 8pm there was a two minute silence to remember those who died in the war and since then...all those mother's sons. They played the Last Post, which always puts my heart in my throat. The burgemeester and his wife lay a wreath, and members of the police, coastguard, and army also lay wreaths. The flag of The Netherlands and of Terschelling were raised to full mast. We sang the National Anthem. This is a service that is echoed across the country. The largest service is, of course, in Amsterdam. There, King Willem-Alexander and Queen Maxima lay a wreath at National Monument at the Dam Plein. It is a solemn time, but as ever, I cannot help but feel overwhelming gratitude towards those men. Our family has a story; our neighbours have their stories - every single man, woman and child in Europe was affected by this war. The sheer scope of it all is unbelievable.

Memorial - Terschelling

May 5th, is more of a celebration, with music festivals and parades up and down the country. In Amsterdam there is a huge concert that takes places right on the river Amstel. The King and Queen attend this too, with visiting dignitaries. The concert has all the favourite tunes, poems are read, and the night always ends with a rousing rendition of, "We'll Meet Again", which the whole crowd sings at the top of their lungs. Quite lovely, and a great end to a weekend of remembering and commemoration. It is, I think, important to remember, and I am always humbled by the respect that is shown.