The Stolen Bike: A Rite of Passage

The expatriate life can be a tricky, emotional journey. If you're like me, with strong family and friend ties to the land from which you came, it often feels as if you're caught between two worlds. I seem to go back and forth between being ecstatic to live in Amsterdam and missing Minnesota to the point where my heart aches.

You see, on one hand, Amsterdam is most certainly my home. In late August 2013, I became an registered Amsterdammer (you may recall the post written excitedly after mijn verblijfsvergunning is ingewilligd). I've since planted roots by personalizing our flat, starting a job, and paying taxes here among other things. All the signs point to the fact that Amsterdam is my home, and most days I feel this way too.

On the other hand, I have moments when I wonder what exactly I'm doing here, and why I chose to move an ocean away from so many that I love (I'm pretty sure that just returning from a week in Florida with my family has something to do with these feelings rising to the surface). While I have become accustomed to the many differences between my old home and my new home, I don't necessarily feel that I fit in with Dutch culture and have realized that I'll never fully feel like a Dutch woman. 

Yes, being an expatriate has its ups and downs. And yesterday, I experienced a combination of both feelings in the event I'm now referring to as "The Stolen Bike: A Rite of Passage." As I'm sure you know, Amsterdam is full of bicycles. In fact, the data I find tells me that there are as many bikes as people, if not more, in Amsterdam proper. That said, I'm not sure why bicycle theft is such a problem since the research indicates everyone already has a bike, but unfortunately it is, and unfortunately I'm not immune to it.

My first bike in Amsterdam got me safely to my first wedding,
but ended up costing more money and causing more trouble than it was worth.

About two months ago, I purchased a brand new, shiny bike to replace the used bike that was starting to give me more trouble than it was worth. My goodness, how I loved my new ride. It was an omafiets (direct translation: grandma bicycle) which means that it had pedal brakes and no gears ... just an average yet beautiful street bike like the one your grandmother rode when she was young (or something like that). 

This empty space on the sidewalk is where my bike should be.

Imagine my disappointment when the husband and I walked down the stairs with a picnic in tow to find an empty sidewalk where my bike should have been. I was incredibly bummed. Not only were we no longer going to be able to ride to the Amstelpark and enjoy a picnic in the sun surrounded by budding flowers, but my beloved bicycle was gone. And probably forever.

It was then, well actually it was after a few tears were shed, that the husband tried to spin the event in a positive light (I think my gratitude project is having an effect on him as well). He shared the story of when his bike was stolen a few years back, he reminded me of our other friend's bike that was stolen a few months ago, and both stories then caused me to remember another friend who had her bike stolen this week. He helped me realize that as much as a stolen bike really, truly sucks, I have now gone through the Amsterdam rite of passage to become a true Amsterdammer. It's just too bad that I'm now an Amsterdammer without a bicycle.

So here I am, about to spend my afternoon looking for a new bike and reflecting to see if there is a lesson I can take away from this (a lesson besides the fact that it's probably a good idea to lock my bike to a rack instead of just to itself). What I'm finding is that no matter how comfortable I may feel some days, there are bound to be other days when I feel out of place. As happy as I am to be starting a marriage with the love of my life, there will always be part of me that misses my other loves across the ocean. The lows will continue to accompany the highs, but what matters most is how I choose to view the events that happen to me. So today, I choose to feel like a true Amsterdammer, to find a new set of wheels to take me where I need to go, and to enjoy my life as an expatriate.

(Some of) My Shmamsterdam Truths

This has been one crazy week so far. My life's busy factor has been off the charts and I've hardly found time to cook dinner let alone write a blog post. Tonight, however, the husband has a haircut appointment and I'm doing everything in my power to stay awake until he gets home. So, here is the fruit of my efforts: a post on some Shmamsterdam Truths. I've decided to call them Shmamsterdam Truths instead of Amsterdam Truths because, well, even though I've found them to be true, they might not be true for everyone.

This fall, I bought a pair of jeans from H&M. Now I know you're probably thinking that H&M jeans wear out faster than any other brand, and that very well might be the case, but I buy H&M jeans all the time so I am well aware of their shelf-life. This pair of jeans, however, black jeans with the small zippers on the bottoms of the legs, started pilling in the bum area quite quickly. Was it from sitting on the floor with my nanny kids? Was it from spending to much time sitting on the couch looking for jobs (ok, and maybe watching some TV too)? I just couldn't figure what had caused my jeans to deteriorate so quickly, so I let it go. That is, I let it go until I bought another pair of jeans and the same thing happened. I then realized that this strange phenomenon is likely due to the fact that I bike everywhere.

So there you have it, wear and tear from the bike seat is causing my jeans to fall apart. Maybe it's time to invest in higher quality jeans after all.

This statement is actually a bold-faced lie because the other day, someone did. I had plans to get together with an American girl who was a friend of my friend's friend who I had met once in New York (you can draw a diagram if that helps your comprehension) when I received a message from her asking if we could reschedule due to forecasted rain. Seems normal enough, I suppose, but rain is just not something you can plan around in Amsterdam. In Amsterdam, rain is part of everyday life and you just have to deal with it. I even remember telling the husband, who was getting ready for work at the time, "I don't have plans anymore, we rescheduled because of the rain." He looked at me, baffled, and let out a chuckle.

So there you have it, no one will ask you for a rain check in Amsterdam (unless they are a new expatriate).

I can still vividly remember one special morning this fall. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and I was finally finally feeling really good about myself on the bicycle. Cycling in Amsterdam has been a bit of a challenge for me. It seems that every time I had started to get really comfortable navigating the roads, traffic, and other bikers, my trip would come to an end and I would have to go back to Minnesota. But by the time this autumn rolled around, I had had months of practice, my confidence had reached new levels, and there was no looming plane ticket to interrupt my success. At this point I was an Amsterdam resident, and biking was now, officially, part of my life. This particular morning, I was biking to a nannying job along one of those roads that had left me with white knuckled hands gripping the handlebars in the past. But today, I was at ease ... until a kid who looked about six years old (and his dad) came up from behind and passed me right by.

So there you have it, there's nothing like a young kid cruising by on his bike to trample all over your accomplishments. Though, he's probably been biking since he was four which means he has at least one more year of experience than I.

The reason my week has been so hectic is because I accepted a substitute teaching position at an international school. Every day this week, I am in the classroom teaching second graders. It has pretty much quadrupled my normal week's workload and at least quintupled my normal week's excitement factor. On my first day, one of the students celebrated his birthday with a fruit tray and homemade cupcakes brought in by his mother. Did you catch that? Homemade cupcakes! Can you remember the last time any type of homemade food was allowed in a school? I'm probably only talking to Americans when I ask this, but seriously, I think it was more than twenty years ago that they stopped allowing us to bring in homemade treats. At first, I thought it was poisoned, naturally, but I'm still alive to talk about it, so it was just a delicious cupcake after all.

So there you have it, I'm living in a land where students can bring homemade treats to school ... and I'm teaching in a school so I get to eat them. No complaints here!

A Seven-Month Reflection

I totally meant to write this post at the six month mark, but the month of December completely got away from me as far as blogging goes. So, without further ado, here it is:

The view from our apartment in summer.

This Saturday, I will have officially spent seven months living in Amsterdam. I will have spent seven months living without a clothes dryer or a microwave. Seven months in an apartment with one (one!) tiny, built-in closet. Seven months without measuring cups or spoons. And seven months in a country that doesn't sell ingredients I had never thought twice about before, like corn syrup, baking soda, and monterey jack cheese, yet has a whole section devoted to black licorice.

No thank you.

For seven months I've dearly missed my family, my friends, and the countless delicious flavors of single serving yogurt cups. Oh yea, and I've spent an outrageous amount of money at the foreign food store to by some must-haves from home (would you believe that a box of graham crackers is €9 and Kraft macaroni & cheese nearly €4?).

I've also spent seven months turning a new apartment into a home, finding creative solutions to the lack of storage space and learning how to practice a more minimalistic lifestyle. I've spent seven months trying new recipes, new ingredients and new ways of cooking. I've spent seven months relying on my legs and my bicycle to get me just about everywhere I need to go. Seven months searching for a job and overcoming frustration to develop my patience. Seven months discovering a new city, experiencing a new culture, and making new friends. And did I mention that I've spent the last seven months living with a boy?

Our cozy home decorated for Christmas.

These first seven months have been quite the ride, not to mention quite the adjustment period. It's been difficult to be so far away from my family and friends, but thanks to strong relationships and modern technology, I am able to stay connected. And yes, it may be easy to rattle off the things that I miss about home in Minnesota, but I can just as easily rattle off the things I miss about the other homes I've made in Chicago and South Korea. Plus, I know that if I were to move back right now, I would have a whole new list of the things I miss about Amsterdam.

So, as I close this chapter of my first months in Amsterdam, I keep myself open to new experiences and will continue to adapt the best I can. I have a good feeling for my future here and am excited to see what it has in store. (Hopefully it includes a teaching position).

Oh to be Dutch!

The first time I came to Amsterdam for an extended period of time was in January 2012. I spent this month not only getting to know the husband better, but looking at the city with a critical eye. Could I live here? Could I fit in here? Do I want to live and fit in here? While mulling over these questions and exploring my surroundings, I made a few observations about Dutch people, and about Dutch women in general.

The first thing I noticed was that Dutch women are tall. In fact, Dutch people are tallest in the world. With my five foot two inch (or 157 centimeter) frame, it was blatantly obvious that no, I would not be fitting in this way. But, let's be realistic, my height has never helped me fit in anywhere but South Korea. So, while this didn't have much impact on my decision to move here, it has impacted my life a bit. I now find myself looking at a lot of shoulders. I find myself avoiding concerts that are standing room only because, well, staying at home and listening to a live album is better than listening to live music while getting pushed around and staring at someone's back. I also ask for a lot of help reaching things off the highest shelf at the supermarket. Things could definitely be worse.

Another thing I noticed was that most Dutch women seemed very relaxed in their style. While my winter wardrobe at the time consisted mainly of dresses and big sweater cardigans with knee high boots, the common uniform of Dutch women seemed to be jeans and sweaters with ankle boots or sneakers. Their style gave the appearance of ease. They looked comfortable and casual, as if they dressed without effort. As for hair and make-up, well, there seemed to be little fuss made over either. Even while out on a weekend night, the majority of women were wearing casual clothes and minimal make-up, their hair tied up in a no-fuss bun.

I realize that describing the style of Dutch women in one paragraph is risky, a sweeping generalization, but my observations gave me the overall feeling that Dutch women are much less maintenance than women in the States. I found it refreshing. And then I found out why.

After trying very hard and to no avail, I realized that it's the long legs of Dutch women that make jeans with sneakers or ankle high boots look stylish. My legs, on the other hand, legs that require each and every pair of pants I buy to be hemmed by at least two inches, don't. They just don't. So, though I may be one of the only, I'll be that girl in the café wearing tall boots with heels.

Secondly, in a city that experiences frequent rainy weather and relies on bicycles as a main mode of transportation, doing your hair and make-up is just not worth it. Take today, for example. I started out having a great hair day. My locks were blown sleek and smooth, and my bangs were obeying my wishes. Then I went on a bike ride. And even with my scarf wrapped carefully around my head, I ended up looking like this:

Not impressed.

Bangs wet and plastered to the face, hair weirdly waved and stringy, and new jeans soaked through, dying my legs blue. But as far as biking-in-the-rain days go, today was a pretty good day. There have been other days when I've reached my destination looking like this:

Even less impressed ... and a little sad.

A picture is worth a thousand words, so I'll spare a lengthy analysis and sum it up: Dutch women don't spend too much time fussing with their hair and make-up because they're smart. They know chances are good that the seemingly ever-present clouds will just ruin whatever effort they put forth, so they choose to avoid the hassle and the disappointment.

As for me? Well, I'm proving that I can live here, but I'm not sure that I can fit in completely (and not just because I'm short). As nice as it would be to embrace the Dutch female mentality, I'm probably going to keep doing my hair and wearing mascara because gosh darn it, I like to. And I'm also going to keep wearing my dresses and tights ... because they dry faster.

Creating my place in Amsterdam - or at least trying

Moving to a new country is exciting and invigorating. As with any move, there are many things to do to get your life in order and to make yourself feel at home. There are countless places to explore and opportunities to find your new favorite restaurant, café, bookstore or park. That said, it's no wonder that my first few months in Amsterdam were very full.

First, we had a new apartment to turn into a home. 

Our apartment - nicely decorated for my welcoming, but not so much for a home.
Oh yea, and we named our apartment Walter.

I cleaned like I've never cleaned before, painted, bought new furniture, assembled furniture, rearranged furniture, and even made a cover for our couch. On top of that, we had a seemingly endless stream of appointments to arrange our first wedding and to get my residence permit. Then we went on a honeymoon to Malta, we visited the husband's family in France, and we got a kitten. 

Hi! I'm Lady.

Plus, we had the best summer weather Holland has probably ever seen, so there were the obligatory day trips, bike rides, walks, and picnics in the park to schedule. 

In Amsterdam, we know how to plan a proper picnic.

Oh yea, and we had our second wedding which was basically a two week affair. By the time my parents left on the Tuesday almost two weeks later, the adrenaline that had kept me going promptly crashed. I contracted a stomach bug mere hours after they left and stayed in bed until that Friday. 

And that brings us to the present. Now I'm feeling healthier, and I've gotten over those post-wedding blues which were surely intensified by having to say goodbye to and subsequently missing all the family and friends that visited. So what's next? The initial tasks on my list have been crossed off and the fun distractions have disappeared, but it appears that life is continuing to move forward. It is now time to create my own place in Amsterdam. But to be honest, I'm not exactly sure where to start.

In a way, I've been through this before. Throughout the past ten years I've lived in a handful of different cities and countries starting with my move from Minnesota to Chicago for college. My young, adventurous self was excited to go to a school as far away as her parents would allow (and still help contribute financially), where I knew no one and had to make all new friends. It wasn't easy though, and I vividly remember feeling lonely around the five month mark (which is exactly where I am now) and like I wasn't really close to anyone. I also, however, remember being comforted by the fact that it was quite easy to get home whenever I wanted (thank you for your dollar fares, Megabus). 

My next few moves all seemed to have expiration dates. During college I studied abroad in London, knowing that I had signed up for one semester and would be returning to the States in the summer. My next big move was to South Korea where I signed a one year contract to teach English. Next, I volunteered for a month in Thailand and set out for a few months of travel through Southeast Asia and Europe (during which time I met my man). I then moved back to Minnesota and attended graduate school, all the while knowing that I would move to Amsterdam after graduation. As you can see, besides that initial move to Chicago, much of my adult life has been spent hopping from one location to the next yet all the while knowing that my time in each place is somewhat limited.

Now I live here, and though we have an abstract plan to move back to the States at some point, it is unclear exactly when that will be. The initial period of getting settled is over and it is becoming increasingly important for me to find my place, to create and foster connections in this new city. 

So, this is how I'm beginning...

First, and very importantly, I'm looking for employment. 

Presently, I nanny two days a week and as much as I enjoy spending my days with those little kiddos, nannying doesn't really help to expand one's social circle. Finding employment hasn't been the easiest (a subject which will likely have an entire blog post devoted to it in the future), but I'm making headway. I'm in the process of obtaining a substitute teaching position and am looking forward to getting my foot in the door that way as well as meeting some others who share my passion for teaching.

I'm actively looking for ways to expand my social circle. 

Since my arrival, I've made two friends of my own. I know that may sound a bit pathetic, but the husband has a great social network that keeps us quite busy. Despite this, however, it is important to me that I make connections of my own. So, I've been doing my best to schedule coffee or lunch dates with those two friends as well as some of those I've met through the husband. 

I've also started a book club which is something that I've always wanted to do. I emailed every female that I know in Amsterdam to see if they were interested and told them to invite others as well. For our first meeting next month, I will host not only some ladies I already know but also ladies I've never met to discuss our book. It's all very exciting.

I'm continuing to be a tourist. 

Often times we neglect to be a tourist in our own city. To do so in Amsterdam would be quite a pity. With more than 50 museums and countless other places to visit, there is no shortage of ways to fill an afternoon. One thing I've done is to buy a museum card. The museum card allows you access to almost any museum in Amsterdam for a year after the activation date and pays for itself on your fourth museum visit. 

The Bibliotheek at the Rijksmuseum, one of my favorite places in Amsterdam.

The husband and I have always enjoyed going to museums, but now with this card we can go whenever we want and not have to worry about the cost (goodness gracious I sound like an advertisement). Plus, you can just pop into any old museum you happen to pass by if you have extra time. I've found that having this card not only gives me a productive way to spend extra time but also more insight to the Dutch culture.

I'm trying out new hobbies. 

Sewing - I'm attempting to improve my sewing skills. I already tackled one couch cover, and now I'm on to a more difficult one. But first, I have to find the perfect fabric. Cooking - the husband and I cook dinner just about every evening. It's been a fun challenge to try out new recipes and get creative in the kitchen. 

The couple that chops together stays together.

Language - I'm learning French. Writing - I started this blog and have (recently) been doing my best to post regularly. Writing has always been therapeutic for me, so this endeavor has been very worthwhile. Plus, it's a great way to update my friends and family back home. Yoga - I'm mustering up the courage to go to yoga more often. Yoga is something that I've always enjoyed and, with a studio a block away, something I should do more often. The reason I've been slacking is because when I attend a class, they often have to conduct it in English only for me which can be a bit uncomfortable. I think I just need to get over it though...

I know I have a long way to go before I feel that Amsterdam is really my home, but I believe that I'm making progress (and that's really what counts, right?). I'd also love advice! If you've ever struggled with finding your place and have some suggestions, please leave a comment below. I'd love to hear from you.

I'm not in Minnesota anymore...

Yesterday, as the husband and I were heading into the supermarket to buy groceries, a parade of children streamed down the sidewalks holding lanterns and singing a song. Later in the evening, I could hear more voices singing songs outside, moving closer and closer to our apartment until they sounded like they were right outside. The next thing I knew, the doorbell rang ... and I froze.

"Lady, I have a feeling we're not in Minnesota anymore," I said to my cat (yes, I have been known to talk to my cat).

Apparently, November 11 is the Feast of Saint Martin, or Sint-Maarten as it is called in the Netherlands. When the night sky falls, children parade from door to door, singing songs and carrying their colorful lanterns and hoping neighbors will give them some candy or fruit. Their hopes must have been shattered when they reached our door. Because I was completely unaware of this tradition and equally as unprepared, I just hid inside my apartment.

It has now been almost five months since I moved to the Netherlands and this was the first time that I felt completely out of my element. For some reason it never occurred to me that I would find myself in the midst of a cultural tradition I knew nothing about. I had prepared myself for less enthusiasm about Halloween. I have decided to throw a Thanksgiving dinner for some friends as to not miss out on what is probably my favorite holiday of all time. But new holidays jumping out and surprising me? I just wasn't really expecting that.

As I huddled on my couch, wrapped in a blanket and accompanied by my sweet, purring kitten, I started to think of the other things that have caught me off guard or that I've starting getting used to since my arrival. The culture shock that I've experienced here was nothing like what I endured during my time teaching in South Korea -- like when people would stop in their tracks and stare at me as I walk down the street -- but there certainly are some differences.

The Dutch kiss hello.

To greet a friend in the Netherlands, you give three kisses on the cheek, alternating back and forth. Most of the time you just touch cheeks and pretend to kiss, but every so often you meet someone who really goes for it and gives you the real thing. Women will always kiss those they are meeting or greeting, but men will only give kisses to women. The humorous thing about kissing is that in Amsterdam, a city full of expatriates, there is a conglomeration of kissing customs. For example, many countries in Europe only give two kisses, so the going for that third one has the possibility of resulting in an awkward situation. Personally, and despite the occasional awkwardness, I enjoy this custom. The few times that I forget to kiss and put my hand out for a good old-fashioned shake, it ends up feeling very impersonal. It was also really great to receive all of our wedding guests by kissing as well, though after 200 or so kisses, my cheeks were pretty sore from all the puckering.

The Dutch rarely smile back.

I smile at strangers. I always have and I probably always will. In Minnesota, especially in the suburbs where I grew up, it was very common to smile at passersby when on a walk or bike ride. That said, it's only natural for me to do the same here when I make eye contact with someone on the street. But here, such smiles are not returned. It's quite the opposite actually. I've received scowls, frowns and looks of confusion in return. Even when I'm nannying and I notice someone smiling at the cute child I'm pushing in a stroller, they still won't extend the smile to me. I suppose it's possible that I'm just the oddball that will smile at anyone, but I'm going to stand strong by my belief that smiling back is relatively painless and just might make your day better.

Your spot in line is sacred.

Another reason I find the lack of smiling back so strange is due to the fact that other courtesies are offered freely. For example, the other day I was waiting in line at the supermarket when I realized I had forgotten something. It was the after-work rush and the lines were long, but I had no other choice than to step out of line, grab the item I needed, and find a new place in line. Much to my surprise, the woman who was originally behind me noticed me in the back and graciously invited me back to my place in line. I was absolutely baffled by this gesture and even more surprised that it came with a smile. Imagine my embarrassment then, when I realized that I had forgotten another item and once again had to step out of line (apparently I was a tad bit forgetful that day), and the following surprise when the man behind her (she was now checking out) invited me back in line upon my return. At first I thought it was just a fluke, but since that day I have noticed time and again that the rule of the line is strongly enforced.

Dutch parents are relaxed parents.

Ok, so I'm pretty sure that Dutch parents wouldn't pick up their child like in the graphic above, but I have to say that I've been quite surprised by how lax parents can be in the Netherlands. The first time I noticed this was this summer when I saw naked children playing in a fountain (for the record, there are lots and I mean lots of naked children here in the summer). I'd say that the children were between the ages of one and four years, and many of them were walking around as the parents engaged in conversations with others, seemingly oblivious to what their children were doing. I saw one child just take off and start playing behind a tree, naked as the day she was born, and no one seemed to notice. Now, I personally think the whole naked thing is something to be embraced. The kids all looked pretty darn happy to be playing in the water and the openness toward nudity in European cultures is something that helps foster a healthy body image. However, I think if I had a child -- especially one that was just barely walking -- I'd keep a closer eye on him/her as they frolicked in the water.

This more relaxed style of parenting came to my attention again when the husband and I ran into one of his coworkers and her family at the Amsterdam Roots Festival. They had just come from the kids' area, and their son was eager to show off his new creation: a person riding a bicycle made of wire. Apparently, the kids were given metal wire and tools to cut and bend the wire into the shape they desired. She laughed as she commented on how an activity like this probably wouldn't be accepted in the States (where her partner is from), and as she explained that the other activity included a wooden table of hammers and nails for children to pound away.

I admittedly didn't witness this activity myself, but I couldn't help but think back to the naked children running in the fountain and imagine a similar scene -- this time with hammers, nails and a wire cutter. It's all just so different than what is considered acceptable in the States where kids are constantly being watched and protected. It actually reminds me of the stories I heard from my mom's childhood, when she and her siblings would leave home in the morning and come back for dinner with minimal supervision in between. And I must say, my mom turned out great. Maybe more relaxed isn't so bad.

So, there you have some of my first impressions of the Dutch. I'm sure there will be more to come in the following months!

...

Photo credits:
Women standing in a picket line reading the newspaper PM by Kheel Center (CC-BY-2.0)

Verblijfsvergunning Ingewilligd - Applying for a residence permit in the Netherlands

Today I write this post as a registered Amsterdammer (yes, that's what they're called).

Last Tuesday afternoon, a friend came over to visit and brought our mail up with her. In the pile was a letter addressed to me from the Dutch Immigration and Naturalization Service (IND). I promptly opened it up, and then set it aside. You see, the letter was in Dutch and my usual reaction to Dutch mail is to set it aside until Philippe comes home. Plus, I wasn't expecting a letter with news of my residence being granted for at least another month. But, after catching up on my friend's recent adventures on our apartment's cozy little balcony, the conversation switched to my immigration process and we remembered the letter. My friend speaks Dutch fluently, so she was the perfect candidate to help me understand the letter.

She read the first paragraph silently to herself, then looked up and started reading it to me. "I hereby enclose my decision that today your request of the granting of a residence permit for a fixed period is ... ingewilligd." She wasn't sure what ingewilligd meant and I sure had no idea whatsoever. I did know, however, that I really wanted to know what it meant. So I ran to my phone where I have the Google Translate app handy, and typed it in as fast as I could figure out how to spell it. 

I-n-g-e-w-i-l-l-i-g-d ... Dutch to English ... translate ... Granted!

My residence permit was granted! Mijn verblijfsvergunning is ingewilligd! Here I thought verblijfsvergunning looked like the difficult word in the sentence, but apparently it means residence permit and ingewilligd is a more fancy, official term for granted. As far as I was concerned, my Dutch lesson for the day was complete and my life as a Dutch resident was just beginning. Cue a huge smile, a small sigh of relief, and astonishment that only 27 days after applying for a residence permit at the IND, my residence was granted. I had never really doubted that my request for residence would be approved since Philippe and I had painstakingly followed all the steps correctly, but it still felt wonderful to receive the official news.

Now, my last post was all about how the husband and I decided to get married and the process it took to do so. Marriage was definitely the first step to me becoming a Dutch resident, but it was not the only one. I promise one of these days I'll get around to writing about the more exciting parts of Amsterdam life, but I'm afraid today is not that day. Instead, because I am hoping that this blog will help to serve others in our situation, I want to recount the next step in our journey: the IND appointment.

On the morning July 31, 2013, after returning from a lovely weeklong honeymoon in Malta, I had an appointment at the IND. We had made this appointment weeks in advance and even so, the first appointment they had available was for mid-August. My patient, devoted, loving husband, however, made phone calls almost every day after scheduling that initial appointment to see if there were any cancellation. Luckily, his persistence paid off and we were able to get an earlier appointment.

For this appointment, I had to bring the application for my verblijfsvergunning (it's so much more fun to say in Dutch), as well as a long list of documents. Thankfully, that patient, devoted, loving husband of mine also took the reins on this and filled out the long application, made phone calls to confirm that we had all the information we needed, and put everything together into two color-coded folders for my appointment.

The blue folder held my application, signed and dated on multiple pages by both the husband and I, which was to be submitted to the IND.

The red folder had all things things that the IND needed approve and/or make copies of, but that I was to bring back home afterwards:

• My passport
• A copy of my passport
• Philippe's passport
• A copy of Philippe's passport
• My birth certificate with apostille
• Our marriage license
• Our apartment rental contract
• Philippe's work contract
• Philippe's most recent annual statement from his employer
• Philippe's three most recent pay stubs

After thoroughly analyzing the documents and taking breaks to tell me all about his cat who recently passed away, the officer at the IND placed a document in my passport stating that I was in the process of applying for a residence permit which would allow me to stay in the Netherlands longer than the usual 90 days as determined by the Schengen Agreement. I was then sent on my merry way with a wish for the best and estimated three to six months until I heard back about my residence permit.

So, you can see why, only 27 days later, I was ecstatic to receive the news that my verblijfsvergunning was ingewilligd! I still have to wait for another letter which will provide me with further information about how to actually obtain my residence permit, but at least I know it's coming ... and soon! 

The population of Amsterdam has now increased by one. Time to start the job search!

Deciding to say "Ja, ik wil."

Or "yes, I do."

After our civil ceremony in Weesp, Netherlands.

When the husband and I were figuring out how to go about starting our life together, we decided to first live in the Netherlands where it was easier for me to gain residence status. Or, I should say, where it would have been easier for me to gain residence status had I moved when we first did the research. In March of 2013, however, laws changed and limited my options to the following:

1. I could come as a highly skilled migrant, meaning that I would be hired by an employer who would then sponsor my immigration. 
2. I could start my own business in the Netherlands by initially contributing a hefty sum of money to my company's start-up, and then stay as long as my company was successful. 
3. I could enter into a registered partnership or marriage with my man and apply for residence as his partner or wife. 

The first two options were not relevant to my situation. First of all, I am just one English teacher among many English teachers looking for work in Europe. I knew that my chances of finding a school who wanted me so desperately that they would monetarily sponsor my immigration was slim to none. Secondly, I am no entrepreneur. I had no great idea with which to start my own business endeavor, nor did I have any interest in starting my own company - let alone a company's whose success would be responsible for whether I stayed in the Netherlands.

That left us with the third option. Luckily, at this point in our relationship, the husband and I were very much in love, deeply committed, and confident that we would spend the rest of our lives together. We hadn't planned to make a legal commitment so soon, but we were open to it. Now we just had to decide if we would enter into a registered partnership right away and get married later, or get married right off the bat. The Netherlands views both the registered partnership and marriage quite equally. The only difference is that in a marriage, the man automatically becomes the lawful father of any children born into the marriage. In a registered partnership, the man has to legally acknowledge each child after their birth. Because it didn't matter too much which route we took in the eyes of the Dutch government, we decided that it made sense to look into how these options would affect a future move and immigration on his part to the United States. 

We found an immigration lawyer in Minnesota whose first case was bringing her Turkish husband to the States, and we picked her brain. She informed us that my man could either enter the U.S. as my fiancé or as my husband. If he entered as my fiancé, we would either have to spend time apart as his application was reviewed and processed - me in the States and him in Amsterdam - or he could come to the States and wait for his application to be processed without the ability to work. If he entered as my husband, we could complete the application process before we moved to the U.S., cross the ocean together, and he could start working or applying for work right away. She also informed us that if we decided to move to the U.S. as husband and wife, the longer we were married the more solid our relationship looks to U.S. immigration. Ultimately, she recommended that, if we were ready for it, we should get married. 

Two days later we looked at engagement rings. And at the end of January, as we said our goodbyes at Amsterdam Schipol Airport, my man asked me to spend the rest of my life with him. I said yes, and that's when the fun began.

It was now time to start gathering documents. Most readers will find the next part of this blog post incredibly dry, but I feel the need to publish this information because it was quite difficult for me to find some of it. I can only hope that someone else in my situation stumbles across this and it makes their life a little bit easier.

For the first step of the marriage/immigration process, I needed to procure the following:

1. My original birth certificate with apostille. An apostille is a document issued by your state's Secretary of State. It is affixed to an original document or a notarized copy of a document and makes it legal in all countries who participate in the Apostille Convention. Basically, all you have to do is mail or bring your document to your Secretary of State, along with money to cover the fee. The process is simple, it just takes some time.
2. An affadavit of eligibility to marry (with apostille). Now this document was extra fun to procure because it doesn't exist in the United States. Yes, that's right. If you are in a similar situation and need this document as well, let me save you the time, frustration, phone calls and emails and tell you that your most recent income tax return filed with single status (plus notarization) will suffice (at least in the Netherlands) to prove your eligibility to marry. It will also count as your proof of residence.
3. Proof of residence (with apostille). See above.

I gathered my documents, acquired the correct notarizations and apostilles, and sent them off to my man who then presented them to Netherlands' immigration. After they saw no problem with me getting married to a Dutch citizen (thank goodness!), he made an appointment with the city hall for both of us to attend our pre-wedding meeting. Shortly after our arrival, we brought the aforementioned documents plus a copy of my passport, a copy of his passport, copies of our witnesses' passports, and his original birth certificate to the city hall ... and were approved! They put all of our documents together in a nice little package along with a letter certifying that we had been approved for marriage, and sent us on our way.

Our next stop was to schedule the wedding. We decided to have a small civil ceremony with just two witnesses as we are planning a bigger wedding with family and friends in October. Therefore, we didn't want to spend a lot of money on the initial ceremony. In the Netherlands, you can get married on a Monday morning between 9:00 and 9:30 for free. If you want to get married at any other time on any other day, you must pay at least €300 depending on the day and time of your choice. We wanted the free wedding.

Now, if it isn't clear by now, I'm just going to come right out and say that not much about this marriage process was easy. Scheduling the actual wedding was no different. In Amsterdam, there were no free weddings available until October. Since my residence permit and eligibility to work depended on my marriage certificate, this just wasn't going to do. Our next move was to look at towns around Amsterdam, but most of them wouldn't allow a couple who didn't live in the town to hold their wedding during the free time slot. That's when we found Weesp. Weesp (pronounced like vase with a p at the end), is a very picturesque small town just outside of Amsterdam. Weesp was willing to marry us in their beautiful, historic city hall. So we made an appointment to meet with an official at the Weesp city hall to go over that nice little packet they made for us at the Amsterdam city hall so we could make an appointment for the wedding. Yes, all these steps took a lot of time, but we did it! We were scheduled to get married on July 15, 2013 at 9:00 in the morning.

And so we did...

Photos taken by Luis Monteiro

Now for a little side note: I think it's important to say that my man's immigration to the U.S. on a fiancé visa would be a similar process to what my immigration to the Netherlands has been. We started the application process shortly after the new year, and though I am living here now, I am unable to work legally until my residence permit is issued. The main difference in these processes is time. I have been here for two months and will likely get my residence permit next month. If Philippe were in the States, the time it would take to get his application processed would be quite a bit longer, meaning he would be without work for a longer period of time. You might say it's six of one, half dozen of the other (or as my mom sometimes says "half of one, six dozen of the other" ... wait, what?), but this choice worked for us. Plus, these months have given me the time to enjoy this uncharacteristically beautiful Dutch summer, explore Amsterdam, get all my cover letters drafted and ready for when the work permit finally arrives, plan a wedding and nanny on the side. I'm keeping myself happy and busy.