Living in the Netherlands
| When the honeymoon of living abroad ends |
What a strange place to be, caught in between the “this is new” and this is “home.”
I think it is sort of like falling asleep on a car ride home from a long vacation. You are so tired of the adventure that you unknowingly doze off and the exciting scenery outside of the window is no longer enough to keep you awake and enthralled. So you close your eyes, drift away with the familiar sounds of the road and next thing you know you are in your driveway, the trip is over and your routine is there waiting for you. I moved to the Netherlands over 5 years ago now and I can’t really say when the newness actually wore off. It was a gradual drift into familiarity. A sad one when I really sit to think about it. I find my old journal entries written on my first train rides and feel a sting of nostalgia for the excitement I felt back then. I swore this would all never become mundane, and yet here I am. Commute, full week of work, clean the home, shopping, cooking, cleaning, repeat…repeat…repeat. It is no wonder naturally the topcoat has faded on my life here. I guess I can still appreciate this though, even if the lenses with which I view it are no longer rosy, they are clear, they are real and they are comfortable. After all, new is fun, but it can also be challenging. I can admit that even if the sense of adventure has dulled, I finally feel secure and settled, something I craved my entire life. And I am forever grateful I get to feel this sense of safety in such an amazing place. Despite it all, that will never be lost on me. The adventure is there, it just looks different now. But that doesn’t mean I have to stop looking for the excitement of years past. That is why having visitors from home means so much to me. It makes me stop and take in what made me fall in love with this life abroad in the first place. Seeing their eyes light up with what are now everyday details is enough to take me right back to that willfully lost girl on the train and wow, did I miss her. Today my latest visitor from back home is off continuing his adventure on his own for the day and after seeing him off like a proud mother sending their little one off on a field trip, I was puzzled about what to do with my day. It has been ages since I had a day off without a lengthy list of things to fill the time. (Well, the list is still there, but technically I am on holiday, so I wanted to use the time for something other than normal tasks). So I took the day to be a tourist again. On my own, in my city. The rain, which normally would keep me hidden indoors, was welcome. Instead of looking down at my feet or at my phone while making my way to the center, I looked up, and out. To take it all in. And there she was… I found her again in
the ornate rooftops of beautiful buildings with more history than anything in my hometown
brightly changing leaves lightly falling from the tall trees in the park
the sound of my boots hitting the cobblestones
bike bells and church bells bringing life to the quiet rainy city center
the lingering scents of fresh bread, flowers, coffee
the market stalls and their owners packing up for the day
colorfully painted doors and faded house numbers
students hiding away in the park until class calls them back in
my favorite café and my favorite table that I never visit anymore because “I have coffee at home”
the sound of my “Europe 2012” playlist as a soundtrack for my steps
and finally the smiles of strangers I too often forget to meet in our day to day passing
It is so easy here to get caught up in the fast pace of it all. Something that I fought against for years, but eventually let myself fall into. The business and bustle are just a way of life on this side of the ocean. But if you stop and take a moment to just, be, you see past the rushing people cycling, running, pushing - distracted from the world around them. You’ll catch a glimpse of a father with his child feeding the pigeons in the park and grin at their uncontrollable laughter. You see the young couple walking hand in hand in front of you, the older gentleman opening the door for the woman and her stroller. You hear friendly greetings over all of the impatience. And those are the small moments I need to pay more attention to, especially as they are too easily drowned out by the haste. After all, where you’ve been and where you will end up will always be there. It is the in-between that matters most.
-aw
