Moving to a new country is so hard...yet so easy?

Hallo! It is now my third day in Nederland, and I'm already feeling more at home! Let me tell you, I should get an award for how productive I have been. It's because I'm barely sleeping, but hey! Whatever gets the job done!

So the first day was kind of my disorientation day, Leon and Inge-Britt, my parents good friends, picked me up from the airport, bedraggled and sleep-deprived, and took me back to their house in Leiden. The weather was AMAZING, 75 and sunny! Not normal weather for Holland, but I'm not complaining. They loaned me one of their bikes, and off we went to see the city! Look at how the restaurants put their tables on a barge in the canal when it's nice weather!

I also had some errands I wanted to take care of ASAP, such as the fact that I felt like a drug mule because I was carrying every penny I had to my name on my body. However, we soon realized that getting things such as a bank account were not so easy. Ok, try to follow along.

-To get a cell phone, I needed a bank account
-To get a bank account (which takes 4 days processing), I needed a BSN (SSN) number.
-To get a BSN number, I needed to register myself as a resident of Leiden at Town Hall.
-To register myself as a resident, I needed to show my Dutch passport and my Rent Contract.

SO: I got my rent contract yesterday when I met with the landlord. I signed, we shook hands, and I am now officially a resident of Nieuwe Beestenmarkt, Leiden.
Then today I went to town hall, contract and passport in hand, "Are you married?...do you have kids?....where were you born?.... how long are you planning on staying?...."You know what we found out!? I had left the country for America on June 28, 1995. Yes, I came back to Holland EXACTLY 17 years later!! How weird is that? That wasn't even planned, it's destiny! But anyway, before I knew it, I was "ingeschrijven" in Leiden. She wrote down my BSN number for me on a piece of paper, but the official resident card would take a week to come in the mail.

But luckily, the number was enough for the bank! The lady at the bank put in my number, and lo and behold! I exist! In the Dutch system! Yay! So I got a student checking account. And I learned lots of fun new words, such as: kaartbijdrage (card fee) and spaarrekening (savings account). And yay! I got a bank account... which also takes a few days until it all comes in the mail.

But I couldn't help mentioning to Leon how easy all this was! I mean, on one hand, is it a lot. Moving to a new country is exhausting work. But on the other hand, things were happening quickly, boom boom boom! All I could think about was when I was trying to do this in Spain. HAH! Going to the ayuntamineto para apuntarme como residente en España was a pain in my culo. The line was long, the people unhelpful, and in the end I got nothing done. So I was quite impressed with the organized Dutch system. Yay for Northern Europeans and their no-nonsense, logical approach to life! I've spent the rest of the afternoon assembling Ikea furniture (boo for the Swedish), but I'm going to save everything pertaining to my new house for a new blog post, because that deserves its own space. But in terms of becoming a legal, functioning citizen of Holland... I'm well on my way! And soon I'll even have a cell phone! Things are looking up.... :)

Oh no! I ended up in Copenhagen instead of Amsterdam!

I'm obviously joking. Copenhagen was a planned layover. When I was looking for flights a couple of weeks ago, SAS (Scandinavian Airlines) was the cheapest flight I found, with a 5 hour stopover in Copenhagen. Hey, you know me! Any place I haven't been before... I'm beyond pumped! So of course, against the advice of absolutely everybody, I decided to metro into the city center and walk around Copenhagen for a bit.

But let me back up and explain to you my first interactions with the Scandinavians. It was a bit of a process: first I thought they were really cool and fun to look at (sounds mean but it's true), then I got a little weirded out, then I wanted to smack them, then I thought they were charming and cool again. They all look like little woodland fairies and sprites, and so many have white-blonde hair, and are the color of a nut. I really don't understand the Nordic coloring. I really think I get my skin tone more from my Dutch father than my Peruvian mother, how do they get so tan!? They live near the arctic circle for heaven's sake! As I continued to stare at them (my fascination with them was endless), I started to notice strange similarities. They all have tiny feet, especially the men. TINY feet. Like I'm talking woman's size 9, and they are not short people. A lot of Hell's Angels wanna-be's (why??): leather jackets, earring, studs... and this is on 60-year-old people. They all were wearing Blues festival t-shirts from West Virginia, Missouri, etc. So strange...

Let me tell you the story of my seat partner, now here is an interesting character. Origin: unknown. Age: around 70. Nice guy, big smile, but what language does he speak?? He had a Danish passport, but every time the Danish flight attendants talked to him, he stared blankly at them. He smiled at me almost the entire flight long, not in a creepy way, but in an innocent, childlike way. When we got our food, he watched how I ate and ate the food in exactly the same order. When they took our drink order, I asked for ginger ale, and they didn't have any and offered me Sprite. When they asked him, he looked at me, looked at them, smiled, and yelled "SPRITE!!". And I mean yelled. He looked so proud of himself, it almost broke my heart.

The woman behind me, however, I could have throttled. She is the proud owner of Denmark's worst baby ever. I mean, really, I would expose that baby on a mountain. Okay, that's horrific, but I can say that after the flight I had. I could not close my eyes for even a second because Damian,  Demon Baby, the kid screamed the entire time. When she was happy, she screamed in pleasure. But when she was sad... ohhh man, forget the foghorn, they should see this tyke's lungs. I did not know they could have such stamina! And of course she was a kicker as well. And the mother? She looked so unworried, almost bored. 'Oh, I'm sorry, is my child disturbing your transatlantic flight? Oh you're trying to sleep?' She was reading a magazine, half-heartedly shushing every once in a while. I felt like turning around and saying "To hell with your Scandinavian, liberal, hands-off-approach-to-parenting, a little slap never hurt anyone."Needless to say, that flight confirmed for me that I don't want kids for a LONG time.

When I got to Copenhagen, I ran straight to the metro, and took it 15 minutes into the city to Kongens Nytorv, the main square in Copenhagen.
I went really early, around 7:45, so when I was there, it was almost completely empty. But I didn't mind, I walked around, took some pictures, found a cute little cafe, and had a nice breakfast.

But with the warning words of my father ringing in my head, I dashed back after only an hour and a half because I was scared I would miss my flight. -___- I got back to the airport and of course have 3 hours to kill. So what did I do? I walked around in circles in the Copenhagen airport because they hadn't posted the gate for my flight to Amsterdam yet. And when they did, I promptly went to the gate, and passed out asleep. I hadn't slept a wink the night before because of the Danish demon, so I don't even think I was conscious. I remember stirring for a second, hearing Dutch all around me, being comforted by the fact that I was among my own people, and going to sleep again. All of the sudden, I bolted up. I was at the gate, completely alone. Not a single person around me. I ran to the desk and said, "Are you boarding for the flight to Amsterdam??" She said "Are you Ms. van der Noordaa? We've been calling your name for 15 minutes!" Yep, that's right, I held up the whole flight. Let me tell you, the looks I got when I finally got on the plane...we're not too nice. I can't believe I didn't almost miss my flight because I went into Copenhagen, but because I passed out. Drooling. On my chest. Everyone always says, 'ohh you must be such a seasoned traveler.' Yeah, well, with the stuff that happens to me, I'm not so sure. I apparently need a chaperone. But no harm, no foul, I'm here, in Leiden, writing this blog post, so all is well. I'll save my first day in Leiden for the next blog post... keep you guys hanging. Kusjes! xx

Tears are for pansies

I apologize for the following entry. My thoughts are very scattered, and I'm tired, and this probably won't be the most well-written thing I have ever produced. But it's really hitting me. I'm leaving. This sucks. Not the the whole moving-to-Europe thing, that obviously doesn't suck. But I really don't like goodbyes, which is why I tend to avoid them at all costs. Isn't a 'see you later' better? I'm not a very emotional person who cries any old day. It takes a lot. But of course, I can't let my emotion come out for something normal like a farewell. No, instead it manifests itself in other ways. For example: Two days ago, my family got a new puppy. I know, low blow. They're really pulling out all the stops to get me to stay. But for some reason, when I went to go pick the new dog up, I cried. When I pet Oreo, my other dog, this morning, I cried. When I watched "Deep Impact" with my friends just now, I cried. What is the matter with me? And mark my words, when my parents drop me off in the airport, I probably won't cry. I internalize it, and then it comes out weeks later when I'm watching the Disney version of Tarzan or something. I am such a weirdo. But just in case, I'll wear waterproof mascara at my going away party this weekend...

My dad came in and took a picture of me asleep with my little Oreo. It's like they're trying to torture me into staying.


P.S. - Random "I love you" texts from my friends at all hours of the day are sweet. But it's tearing my soul to shreds.

P.P.S. - I measured the new puppy, Pisco, and he fits in my suitcase perfectly.

P.P.P.S. - I will be in Copenhagen for 5 hours. I probably (?) won't have time to leave the airport and see the city before my next flight to Amsterdam, but does anybody have any suggestions? Is Copenhagen a cool airport? Or should I be gangster and pop into the city for a spell?

gahhh I'm going to bed

How are you supposed to pack your life into a suitcase?

Well, it's official. In exactly 7 days I will be leaving my life behind in America to move abroad to Leiden, The Netherlands. It feels unreal! I've been planning this for months -- no --- years, and no all my dreams are finally coming to fruition! Maybe a little background first, for those who don't know what I'm doing, or believe I have gone mental and assumed the life of a wandering pilgrim.

From an outside perspective, Holland seems random. It's okay. It's a random country. A little bit of forgotten land, reclaimed from the sea, wedged between Germany and Belgium (that other random country), and filled with windmills and cows. Let's be honest, people are really only reminded of it when the conversation turns to tulips, cheese, marijuana, and..... oh yeah, prostitution. But my selection was not entirely random. I was born in The Hague, and don't really tend to hide the fact that I'm (half) Dutch. Well, my last name doesn't really make it an easy fact to hide. But I really am very proud of my heritage, thanks in part to my outspoken, very Dutch, semi-FOB father. Thanks to him, I am completely fluent in insults in Dutch. Comes in handy. Predictably, we went home a lot the first couple years we moved to the US. And although as time passed we weren't able to go annually like we did before, we never let three years pass without going back. But this ensured that I always maintained a strong connection with my heritage.

I've always played around with the idea of moving back in my head, ever since I was bitten by the travel bug when I was about twelve. But it's one thing to say it, and quite another thing to say 'ok, I'm doing it.' I like to think I'm pretty fearless when it comes to traveling, but even I balk at the thought of packing up my life and moving by myself an ocean away from my family to a country that could just be  considered the setting for some fuzzy childhood memories and a summer vacation spot. But then I studied abroad last year in Spain. Some of you may have read my other blog (I promise I'll keep this one better updated!), and everything changed. I probably learned more about myself and the world in one year than I did in the ten previous years. The most important thing I learned about myself? I can totally survive by myself abroad. And not only will I survive. Dammit, I will flourish! Ok now I'm sounding like a flower. But it really showed me that I can move to a new country, and though there will be scary moments (having to talk your way out of an €800 speeding ticket to a Guardia Civil guard was an interesting one), it is these scary moments that actually make me stronger and more confident in myself. I have yet to run into a situation abroad that I absolutely could not fix or alleviate in some way. Great. Now that I said that, I'm sure it will happen to me. Look for me in the next episode of "Locked Up Abroad."


Anyway. I came back from Spain, and honestly I just wanted to turn around right there and fly right back to Europe. But I had my senior year at Mary Washington to finish. So finish I did. It was nice to see my family and friends again, and I won't lie, the familiar was comforting. But I was itching to be challenged again. For some strange reason, my senior year was surprisingly, confusingly easy. I know, I don't get it either. I studied abroad for a year. But that just gave me waaaay too much time to daydream. Oh, and I had to pick up a hobby so I started training for a triathlon, because otherwise I was going to go mental. But in between writing my thesis and running, I decided I wanted to pursue a Masters degree in history in Holland. It's always been my plan to continue my education after undergrad, and because of my year abroad and easy senior year, I wasn't too burned out by school like a lot of my friends. I'm also realistic. I am well aware that I graduated with a history degree in a time when engineering majors are having trouble finding jobs. So instead of working in a museum gift shop for a year, I decided to relieve that horrible travel itch as well as earn my masters. 


Studying in Holland was an easy choice, for my particular situation anyway. All Masters programs in The Netherlands are conducted in English, so although my Dutch is pretty good, I don't have to worry about getting caught up on nasty long Dutch academic words. Also, education for Dutch citizens is DIRT CHEAP compared to the US. My program will cost €1.771. I know, I shouldn't brag. See? Socialism ain't that bad. I also have a good support system of family and friends in Holland that make the transition easier. So there really is absolutely no reason not to go! I actually hopped over to Holland for a hot sec in January to check out which university I wanted to go to. I looked at two universities in Amsterdam, Utrecht, and Leiden. I actually got a little ballsy and emailed a professor at Leiden and asked him if I could meet with him to discuss the program I was interested in. It was only after he accepted and I arrived in Holland that my Dutch friends that lived in Leiden widened their eyes at me and laughed, saying he was a very well-respected professor in The Netherlands, and that was a very brave thing of me to do. Oh, well, okay then. I'm glad they told me that RIGHT before the meeting. I don't know how I didn't pee in my pants while I was talking to him. 


But the meeting went perfectly, and it was completely clear to me: I wanted to study Migration and Global Interdependence at Leiden University. I was further encouraged by my father, who attended Leiden for two years in the 70's, although he didn't graduate from there. If you ask my dad, he'll tell you he spent more time studying the bottom of his glass at the bar, than his schoolbooks. Regardless, I came back from my little trip, and set to work applying. For some reason, I had this cockiness, that really had no basis in anything whatsoever, that this was going to work out. It sounds stupid, but I just felt like I didn't have to worry, and it would all work out. So like an idiot, I applied to Leiden in March.....and no other schools. And no back-up plan. Nothing. Any time anybody would ask me what I was doing, 'ohhh, I'm going to Leiden.' I know, I know, I was quite cheeky. But luckily, I was not struck down by lightning, and three days before I graduated, I found out I was accepted. 


I know that was a very long-winded description of the last year, but I think it's important to see why I made my decision. I've thought long and hard about it, and I've put in a lot of effort to see my plan through. So yes, Holland is a random country. But it's exactly that randomness that attracts me. And I know it's the right choice for me.

So here I am. I leave in one week. Good news: I have a place to stay. I was extremely lucky and found a house in the center of the city with three Dutch roommates, and they were looking for someone to fill the attic room. Jackpot! Bad news: I haven't started packing yet. Okay, okay, I know. I'm up shit's creek. But honestly, how are you supposed to pack your life into a suitcase? This past January was the first winter I've spent in Holland since 1995, and holy smokes was it COLD. So I have to pack hot (for when I go on vacation to, say, Spain... it's inevitable), warm Dutch summers, cool fall, and then freezing Nordic winters. For some people, when they feel overwhelmed, they over-organize. Or plan way ahead. Not me. When I'm overwhelmed, I pretend the problem doesn't exist, and magically I'm happy! Ok, that's not true. Ok, maybe it's been true the last couple of weeks. But starting tomorrow I'm getting down to business! I swear!