(As you may remember, it specifically didn't fit my image of a "hanging about in cafes, visiting art museums, hopping on a train to Prague for the weekend" sort of life in Europe.)
After my recent spate of complaining about drug stores and consumer goods and weather, I'm beginning to realize that my actual European-living self doesn't completely fit the image I had for my European-living self, either.
When John and I sat down at our kitchen table in Madison two years ago for our "where next?" throwdown, I think it's safe to say that we didn't have a specific idea of what living in Europe would be like.
It was just that the Netherlands sounded a lot more interesting than, say, moving to Ohio. It seemed like a fun adventure and a rare opportunity to experience another culture, and with 9 weeks of vacation time each year, we were pretty sure we could travel to our hearts' content.
Over time, though (and by "time", I mean the half-year blur in which we wrapped up two jobs, put our house on the market, held 5 garage sales, and in John's case, wrote a thesis), we started to develop an idea of what the experience could be like.
Also, a surprisingly common response to our "we're moving to the Netherlands" announcement was a troubled look and some variation on a very confused "Why??"
So we found that it was helpful to come up with an explanation that might be more persuasive than "Why not?"
The more we thought about it, the more it seemed like life in the Netherlands would inspire us to be more physically active, have a significantly better work-life balance, develop a deep understanding of another culture, and jet off at a moment's notice to any major or minor city in Europe (or northern Africa, for that matter).
Plus we would have the moral and political satisfaction of living in a country with a healthy middle class, almost no poverty, and universal health care. And we would speak a second language, which would be difficult but meaningful challenge.
Almost a year and a half into the experience, life in the Netherlands has instead turned me into a quasi-libertarian Oreos addict who would give up her first-born child for a Netflix subscription.
It's a funny thing, that gap.
In some areas, the reality in our daily lives does meet my expectations.
For one thing, we are definitely more physically active. I now feel perfectly comfortable riding my bicycle in all weather conditions and in all types of clothing. And with all combinations of furniture, appliances or food bungee-corded to the back.
In Madison, in contrast, I generally weaseled out of my bike ride to work if it was too hot, too cold, or there was any chance of precipitation. Or if I didn't want helmet hair or needed to wear something nicer to work than khakis and a button-down shirt.
Another hindrance in Madison was that when I mentioned riding my bike that morning, the first follow-up question was generally, "Oh! Is there someplace here where you can shower?"
Maybe it goes without saying that people don't ask that awkward question in the Netherlands.
In terms of work-life balance, it's still hard to say whether moving to the Netherlands has made it better or worse. My job is still quite new and exhausting, so I don't know how it will feel once things settle down.
Although one of my biggest and most vocal complaints about working in the U.S. is how little vacation time people get, John's bonanza of vacation days has raised an entirely different issue: it's nearly impossible to get anything done when you're on vacation nine weeks each year!
When we get to "develop a deep understanding of another culture", things start to go off the rails a little bit. Technically, yes, I suppose my understanding of Dutch culture is deeper than it was when we moved here.
But I've been somewhat horrified to discover that the more exposure we have to Dutch culture, the more I crave American culture. (Hence the Oreos and the Netflix. Which I have to say are pretty appealing, even when one is not under siege.)
I hate to admit this, but I think I was operating under an assumption that Dutch culture was fundamentally the same as American culture, only with a lot of bicycles and a commitment to universal health care.
I acknowledge that this is a screamingly American assumption, but there you have it. It just didn't occur to me that there would actually be fundamental cultural differences between the U.S. and the Netherlands.
(I know, I know: Holy cultural chauvinism, Batman!)
Not surprisingly, Dutch people ask me all the time about the differences between the U.S. and the Netherlands. I find them painfully difficult to describe, especially when speaking in my slightly-better-than-primitive Dutch. It's not all that easy in my slightly-better-than-primitive English, either.
Maybe the best way to describe the differences is to simply say what I miss:
I miss the energy and restlessness that comes from being able to invent and re-invent yourself, and from working hard to get ahead. I miss the steady drumbeat of entrepreneurship and the consumer freedom that goes along with it. I miss having both tremendous risk and opportunity — socially, creatively, and economically.
Needless to say, there's a huge down side to the American culture of risk and reward. One of my Dutch friends who lived and worked in the U.S. described it as "economic terror": if something goes wrong with your job or your family or your health, you're pretty much on your own.
Whereas in the Netherlands, you might not have as much freedom to take risks, but you can be reasonably certain that in a personal crisis, you're not going to lose everything.
This is related to the moral and political satisfaction I had hoped to have when moving to a country that supports so many social policies that I so fervently believe in.
On one hand, I do feel proud and satisfied to live in a country that does so much stuff right.
On the other hand, I'm beginning to see how the Netherlands' social support system is part and parcel of a culture that puts the needs of the of the society above the needs of the individual. Which gives me a new appreciation for how difficult it is to integrate meaningful, society-centric policies into an individual-centric culture like the U.S.
My jokes about becoming a libertarian aside, I do find myself chafing at the level of government involvement in what I consider to be personal decisions.
What do you mean, I can't have a sidewalk sale whenever I want to?!
What do you mean, stores aren't allowed to do business on Sundays?!
What do you mean, I'm required to retire at age 65?!
I also learned recently that I'm required to give two months of notice at work if I want to quit my job. Two months! I nearly laughed out loud in the HR debriefing.
All of which is a long way to say that there are times when I just need to sit on the couch and watch South Park to restore my faith in the glory of individual freedom.
I also mentioned our idea of jetting off to other countries at a moment's notice. This gap between expectation and reality is a little sensitive for me, since much of the appeal in moving to the Netherlands came from the more-or-less unlimited opportunities for travel.
Don't get me wrong: since we moved, we've been on the move! We've taken trips to Poland, Slovakia, Germany, Indonesia, South Africa, and the UK, and we're looking forward to weekend jaunts to Stockholm and Paris this summer. (John's also had a series of work trips to Argentina and France, and we've also made it back to the U.S. a couple of times.)
The reality, however, is that we still have closet hardware to install and clothes to wash and trips to the grocery store to make every weekend. Which means that the idea of leaving for Rome at 5 p.m. on a Friday and coming back at 9 p.m. on a Sunday is appealing...but also sort of exhausting.
And despite my great desire to see the world, there are times when the last thing I want to do is hop on a plane to Croatia, where the chances of me being able to communicate effectively are even lower than my chances of communicating effectively in Dutch right here in Nijmegen.
As a related side note, we've also discovered that our appetite for adventure is substantially less in our country of residence than it is when we're on vacation.
If we were in, say, Estonia, and someone offered us a deep-fried ball full of thick veal gravy, we might give it a raised eyebrow or two, but I have no doubt that we would eat it and gleefully document the event.
In the Netherlands, where said item appears regularly on the lunch menu at John's cafeteria, we have but two words for that particular form of Dutch culinary hideousness: "No" and "way".
And last but not least, there is speaking another language.
Technically, this has been a success: I can generally function in Dutch in the workplace (+/-), and I can make it through most interactions with my neighbors or at places of business in Nijmegen.
But: my day-to-day experience as a Dutch speaker is not quite as noble and glorious as one imagines when discussing language study over a beer in Madison, Wisconsin.
For one thing, there's a big difference between being able to function in another language and being able to actually express oneself in another language.
And there's also the part where if I've had to speak Dutch for more than an hour at a time, all I want to do is go home and crawl under the bed and pretend I'm a sea urchin.
Who doesn't have to worry about conjugating verbs in any language.
Poor sad you! August is too far away! Something must be done! Want to meet in NYC or DC for a long weekend?
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