One tiny, seemingly insignificant, life-changing decision.

It's incredible to look back at your life and trace the steps it took to get you to a specific moment. Most often there is a chain of events that led you in a certain direction; a multitude of intertwined decisions that, when all working together, brought you to where you are today. But every once in a while, you can pinpoint one tiny, seemingly insignificant thing you did that made a huge difference. For me, that tiny, seemingly insignificant thing was bringing earplugs to a handsome, sleepy traveler as he relaxed in a hammock.

Let me back up a bit.

This is me at Erawan Falls, three years ago today.

After teaching in South Korea for a year, I decided to take the long way home by spending nearly six months winding my way through Southeast Asia and Europe. My first stop was Thailand, and by March 5, 2011, I had been in the country for about six weeks. The first two weeks were spent traveling with my parents. We visited temples and got daily massages in Bangkok, zip-lined in the jungle and visited the night market in Chiang Mai, and soaked up the sun and relaxed on the beaches of Phuket. The next four weeks were spent volunteering at the Gibbon Rehabilitation Project (GRP) in the tiny village of Bang Rong in Phuket. Here, I woke up early to feed small apes and clean their cages, learned and taught others about wildlife conservation, and camped in the wilderness with minimal supplies. The experiences I had in Thailand were exciting to say the least, and transformative if we're being completely honest. Yet little did I know that the most life-changing moment of all was yet to come.

Exactly three years ago today, I was traveling with a girl I barely knew. She was the childhood friend of a mutual friend who was supposed to be traveling with us, but who was stuck in Korea because of a broken leg. This situation left me in charge of planning the rest of our Thailand trip, and because I had been to a handful of Thailand's must-see places with my parents, I decided we should go to Kanchanaburi, a destination a little more off the beaten track, and recommended to me by one of the Thai employees at the GRP.

We stayed in Kanchaburi for only two nights, signing up for an excursion to visit Erawan Falls and the bridge over the River Kwai on our only full day. There were a handful of other travelers on this excursion, and throughout the day we mingled with them as we walked along and swam in the waterfalls, enjoyed a lunch of Thai noodles, and visited the Burma Railway, learning about the 100,000 Asian civilian workers and prisoners of war that died during its construction. At the end of the excursion, a few of us decided to take the train the whole way back to the city. A handsome French/Dutch traveler and I were two of those people, so we, along with an Italian couple and a Japanese girl, talked away the afternoon as we admired Thailand's lush scenery from the train's hard, wooden benches and reveled in the warm breeze floating through the open windows.

This is the husband sitting on the Burma Railway, three years ago today.

The handsome traveler and I were staying at the same guesthouse, so our conversation continued as we walked back from the train station. When we arrived, we were invited to a dinner planned by some of the other travelers on the excursion. We both accepted the invitation, and so our conversation continued into the evening, through dinner, down the street to a bar, and finishing with a walk back to the guesthouse.

As the night came to an end we said our goodbyes, wishing each other good luck for our travels. We were both leaving Kanchanaburi the next day to head to Thailand's southern islands. I returned to my room, feeling very content after a day full of exploration and good conversation. But then, just as I was about to put in the earplugs that I rely on for a good night's sleep, I remembered that the handsome traveler had complained about being kept up the night before by his noisy neighbors. Looking out the window, I saw him relaxing in a hammock, and decided to go out and give him a pair of earplugs to ensure that he would get a good night's sleep as well.

And that was it. That was it! That tiny, seemingly insignificant decision I made to bring earplugs to a handsome, sleepy traveler ended up being the most important, life-changing moment of my life. For as I approached the hammock, the handsome traveler reached out his hand, placed it on the back of my head, and kissed me. And from that kiss stemmed emails, a few days on the Thai island of Ko Tao, a week in Bali, a weekend in France, two years of trips to Minnesota and Amsterdam, emails and video calls, a wedding, and now a life together. I never could've imagined that this tiny decision would be the best one I ever made ... but it was!

Now as I mentioned before, there is often a chain of events that create your life's path, and this is certainly true for this story as well. My dad, for example, likes to take credit for getting me to Asia in the first place. You see, he was the one who showed me the link to a job opportunity and encouraged me to act on it. Also, had it not been for my parents' trip to Thailand, I probably wouldn't have ended up in Kanchanaburi at all. In fact, had I not volunteered at the GRP and acted on the recommendation from an employee there, I wouldn't have gone to Kanchanaburi either. And then, of course, there is my friend who broke her leg. Had she not injured herself on a pre-school sledding field trip (true story), thus leaving me in charge of our itinerary and also encouraging me to go to Bali for a week while she recovered on a beach in Cambodia, well, who knows how things would've played out.

But, in the end, regardless of how I got there in the first place, it all comes down to the earplugs. For had I not decided to give them to the handsome, sleepy traveler as he relaxed in the hammock, I wouldn't be living in Amsterdam today, celebrating my three happiest years with the love of my life.

Valentine's Day Wishes

Happy Valentine's Day to the woman who gave me life, nurtured me, and protected me. On this day, and every day, know that I love you for always being there, staying home to raise me, getting me ready for school every day, and greeting me when I returned home. I love you for all the hours you spent coming up with crafts and activities to expand my creativity, and for the patience you showed when teaching me new skills. I love you for comforting me when I came home from second grade in tears because a friend hurt my feelings, for filling my belly with delicious meals, and for filling my soul with compassion and kindness. I love you for always being available to talk, and for making me feel like I'm the most important person in the world when we do. Thank you for being a strong, dedicated mother during my childhood, and for being my friend now. I am grateful for all you have done for me and love you more than I can say.

Happy Valentine's Day to the man who has always supported me, believed in me, and encouraged me to do my best. On this day, and every day, know that I love you for the countless hours you worked to provide for our family, and for being so present during the time you were at home. I love you for the Saturday mornings you spent introducing me to your music collection as I lay on the floor in your den, for taking the time to point out and replay the best guitar, drum or vocal solos, and for making delicious pancake breakfasts when the rest of the family woke up. I love you for setting such a strong example of what a father and husband should be, for always treating people with respect, and for searching for ways to better the lives of others. I love you for consistently opening my eyes to new opportunities, for instilling in me the confidence needed to jump at them, and for believing that I'm capable of anything I set my mind to. Thank you for being my silly twin, my joe-to-joe, my daboon, and the list goes on. I can't imagine going through life without you and am beyond grateful for all you do.

Happy Valentine's Day to the girl who filled my childhood with laughter, silliness and (mostly) fond memories. On this day, and every day, know that I love you not only for being my sister, but for the dear friend that you have become. I love you for that time we laughed so hard before we fell asleep at Pine Beach that our stomachs were sore the whole next day, for all the times we watched Sillyville together, and all the times we've acted like sillywhims. I love you for all the cards and notes you send me that remind me how special our relationship is, for our fun-filled sister days, and for the travel adventures we've had together. I love you for your constant support that remains strong whether we live close together or far away, and even when a haircut makes me look like your brother. I love that you have found a man that treats you like a princess and makes you happier than you've ever been, and that you have added this wonderful man to our family. Thank you for your dedication, not only to me, but to all of your family and friends, your education, and your career. I am incredibly proud of the strong, smart, beautiful woman you have become and will cherish you always.

Happy Valentine's Day to the incredible ladies who inspire me, motivate me, and accept me. On this day, and every day, know that I love you because (to botch some words from the Avett Brothers) you love me for the woman I've become and the girl that I was. I love you for the countless hours we've spent together, whether it be floating on the lake, talking on the phone, going out to dinner, exploring new cities, or just doing nothing but still having a great time. I love you for being there whenever I need you, for supporting me through good times and bad, and for making it feel like no time has been lost between our conversations or visits. Thank you for your adventurous spirits, your kindness, and for making me want to be a better person. I love each of you for the unique qualities that make you who you are and I wouldn't trade you for the world.

Happy Valentine's Day to the man I couldn't stop thinking about after the day we met, and who makes me smile every time I think about him now. On this day, and every day, know that I love you for your persistent optimism, the kindness you show to everyone you meet, and your handsome face. I love you for always validating and supporting my feelings, comforting me in sadness, and sharing in my happiness. I love you for kissing me in Thailand, traveling with me in Bali, and helping me write the most perfect love story I could imagine. I love you for your commitment to our relationship once we returned back to our normal lives, and for always looking forward, believing that we could make it work. Thank you for creating a life with me full of good food, passion, laughter, and memories that have only begun. I am the luckiest girl in the world to have you by my side, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my days loving you.

"Excuse me. I need some space."

I came across this quote, so nicely put by a two-year-old, while reading my friend's blog, Wifeytini. It has stuck with me since then because, well, first of all I think it's pretty adorable and hilarious that a toddler needs some space, and secondly, because I've finally reached the point where I need mine as well.

As you probably know by now, the husband and I don't have your average dating story. Our long distance romance didn't consist of going on physical dates, it consisted of scheduling Skype dates that took into account a seven-hour time difference. Instead of meeting once a week at a restaurant nearby and then saying goodbye for the evening, we were flying across an ocean and meeting for two weeks, one month, or even three at a time ... and then saying goodbye for the next few. That said, we never went through that phase of spending a few hours together here and there. No, we were spending some pretty good chunks of time together. And when we were together, we were together. I'm talking joined-at-the-hip, not-letting-you-out-of-my-sight together. I mean, wouldn't you be that way too if you only got to see the love of your life every three months or so?

This trend continued when I moved to Amsterdam. We were so happy to finally live together that we spent every available minute in the same room. If he was in the kitchen cooking dinner, then I was in the kitchen helping him cook, chatting about my day, or doing who-knows-what ... but I was in that kitchen with him. If I was sitting on the couch, then he was sitting on the couch next to me, likely with the side of his body pressed right up against mine. I think the word inseparable just about sums up what the husband and I have been, whenever possible, for as long as we've known each other. But, as Bob Dylan so aptly put it, "the times, they are a-changin'."

Just about one month ago, I decided to retire to bed before the husband and read my book. Now I realize that this sounds like a completely normal activity, but for me it wasn't. For me, it was the first time I had actively decided to do something that didn't involve my man even though I could have chosen to be with him. A few days later, I attended a ladies-only social event, leaving the husband home on his own for a few hours. And now, well, taking the time to do things on my own is becoming a more frequent occurrence.

The thing is, I'm not so sure how I feel about reaching this new point in our relationship. On one hand, I realize that it is healthy to have a life outside of your couple, and believe me, I am happy to create one of my own. Taking the initiative to do things for myself is increasing my overall happiness, not to mention that it's also boosting my confidence, leading me to make more friends, and forcing me to be more active in finding my place in Amsterdam. On the other hand, it makes me a bit sad that the pressing urge I had to soak up every minute with my man is fading. Maybe it just means that we're settling into married life, but it's taking some adjustment to realize that spending time together is now the norm, not a novelty.

But this is what I was waiting for, right? I mean, I was anxious for this "common life" (as the husband likes to call it) to start for so long, and now it is here. I am fortunate to wake up to the love of my life every morning, and kiss him goodnight every evening. And what's more, I'm fortunate enough to have such an abundance of time with him that it's perfectly fine to need some space. I think I just need some more time to get used to this concept.

"It Smells Cheese" and the Occasional Communication Breakdown

I've said it before and I'll say it again. In fact, I'll even write it down.

Once you date a non-native English speaker, you'll never go back.

The things my husband says are amusing, endearing and sometimes downright hilarious. I just can't get enough. Now, this is not to say that my husband isn't incredibly well-versed in the English language. Quite the contrary, actually. His vocabulary is one I could only dream of having in a second language (or third language in his case), and I often catch myself wondering how he learned some of the words he uses.

That is, until he turns around and exclaims,
"Wow, that shower totally washed out my brain!"
Cue my giggles.
"I mean, that shower completely brainwashed me!"
More giggles and an explanation of what brainwashing really is.

Or that time he asked,
"What are we going to make with this butterscotch?"
as he picked up the butternut squash I bought at the market.

Or every time he walks into the apartment while I'm cooking and exclaims:

He doesn't like cheese.
Yes, he's half French and half Dutch, has easy access to the world's best cheeses, and won't eat them.
Oh well, more for me.

Or, "It smells fajitas!" and I don't know whether to laugh at the omission of the word like or shudder because I'm reminded of that creepy scene in "Silence of the Lambs" when the psychopath threatens to use the hose on his victim unless "it rubs the lotion on its skin."

I could go on for days.

Unfortunately, not all of our little communication breakdowns are endearing or hilarious. There are bigger cultural differences expressed in language that have occasionally left either my husband or me feeling misunderstood or frustrated. The one that shows its ugly head most often is my tendency to express approval and his tendency to provide criticism.

I'm currently reading the book Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, in which one of the main characters moves from Nigeria to the U.S. for school. "When you visit the home of an American with some money, they will offer to show you their house," she is warned. "Please smile and follow the American and see the house and make sure you say you like everything." Sounds pretty accurate, doesn't it? I'm finding more and more that Americans have a special way of sugar-coating and approving of most things. We choose not to point out negative aspects, or worse, admit that we don't like something.

I will always remember the first time the husband came to Minnesota and ate dinner with my family. My mom made chicken and remarked that it was a little dry. "Yeah, it is a bit dry," he agreed. I was shocked. Surprised. Appalled, even. I mean, you don't tell someone that the meal they prepared was lacking, do you? Especially not the first time you're meeting them. Nope, not in the States. But apparently in many other places that is fair game.

Let's say someone presents you with something new. Chances are that this new thing (be it a recipe, a movie suggestion or an activity to try) falls on of the following spectrum, with most things falling in the middle (or being good).

In the States, we have the tendency to completely ignore the left side of the spectrum in our comments. (I'm talking about in-person comments towards people we care about. From what I've seen, our comments in online forums are the exact opposite.) Because I started with the food example earlier, I'm going to keep that going to illustrate what I mean. In America, if our friend or relative treats us to a meal that isn't very good or just ok, we'll probably say, "Mmmm, this is good," so we don't hurt their feelings. If the meal happens to be good or really good, chances are that we'll say something along the lines of, "This is great!" And if something is, indeed, great, we'll promptly exclaim, "Wow! This is awesome!"

My husband, on the other hand, is from a culture that doesn't feel the necessity to inflate reactions to such an extreme. To him, the bad is bad, the ok is ok, and the good is, well, the good isn't even necessarily just good. When I try a new recipe, I can expect to hear a comment along the lines of, "This is good, but could improved by this, that or the other thing." And awesome? Well, that word is reserved for nothing short of a miracle.

You can probably imagine our mutual frustration. My poor man makes a meal and is subsequently showered in nothing but compliments (sounds terrible, doesn't it?). What he really wants and even expects, however, is some honesty and advice about how to improve things for next time. So, I've been doing my best to work on this. I've been trying to be more critical and voice opinions other than just the positive. I mean, they do say that honesty is the best policy, and it definitely makes for more interesting conversation.

I also find myself wishing that I wasn't so used to receiving positive reactions when they're not necessarily deserved. If I had come from a culture where honesty was expressed more frequently, I wouldn't find myself needing to develop a thick skin in order to take constructive criticism, and I might take that extra step to improve things that I view as adequate.

At the same time, however, chances are pretty good that I am already aware that my cheesecake crust is a bit soggy or that the soup could use more salt ... so I wouldn't mind being spared the critique and just receiving a enthusiastic compliment instead.

The Importance of Family Dinners

"What did you learn today?"

"Nothing."
"Nothing? I find it hard to believe that you learned nothing during eight hours of school. Think about it for a bit and I'll ask you again later."

Sound familiar? This conversation was a common one in our household. It was a conversation my father would initiate; one that opened a discussion about the goings-on in his daughters' lives. It was also a conversation that likely might not have happened without regularly scheduled family dinners.

This is not my family.

Growing up, my family always ate dinner together. My dad would get home from work at about 6:00 in the evening, and ten minutes later we were all sitting around the table eating a delicious meal prepared by my mom. This daily tradition was consistent throughout my life, and I strongly believe that it contributed to my family's closeness. I mean, think back to all the television shows you've ever watched about families (because television is, of course, a direct reflection of real life). What do the Cleavers, the Waltons, the Bradys, the Tanners and the Cosbys (I could go on for days) have in common? Why they all ate dinner together, of course!

Silliness aside, many studies can attest to the importance of family dinners. For example, The National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse reports that teenagers who eat family dinners less than three times a week are twice as likely to use alcohol and tobacco, and one and a half times as likely to smoke marijuana as their peers who gather for a family meal between five and seven times a week. What's more, frequent family dinners increase the chances that children will eat healthier foods and perform better at school, and can also reduce the chance that children will suffer from depression or eating disorders. But family dinners don't just benefit children; they can even reduce the stress felt by working mothers (read more here).

Plus, they create some pretty wonderful memories.

Take, for example, the little traditions born around the table. Of course there was the aforementioned "What did you learn today?" question posed by my dad, but there was also the habit of saying grace. We had a book (cleverly titled Graces), that we kept near the dinner table and took turns reading from.

Graces by June Cotner

Sometimes we would substitute a written grace for a chance to come up with our own, go around and share something good that happened that day, or sometimes my dad would read something interesting he found in the newspaper. Though I may have occasionally rolled my eyes at this practice in the past, I now see the value in taking a moment to ground and center yourself before a meal, the moment that saying grace inevitably provides.

We also had some silly traditions that I remember fondly. At one point, I was given the ever-important title of light monitor which placed me in charge of dimming the lights to create the perfect ambiance. I took this task very seriously. My dad assumed the role of crust manager and would put out his hands to collect the uneaten crusts from my bread. Not so silly, but still memorable, was the task of setting the table (choosing the right placemat to complement that night's dinner was not always an easy task), and the ever-present reminder to "bus our dishes" when we were finished eating. Yes, our family dinners could be goofy, but they also taught my sister and I the importance of family communication, not to mention responsibility.

When I first visited the husband in Amsterdam after almost six months apart, we spent an entire month together. My fondest memories of this time are the evenings we spent cooking and eating. There were many. I think we cooked dinner just about every day that month with the exception of a few dinners out. We exchanged recipes, I did a lot of converting from cups and tablespoons to grams and milliliters (who am I kidding, I'm still converting measurements every time I try a new recipe), and we bonded as we ate a bunch of really delicious food together.

It was comforting to learn that his family worked in much the same way as mine. When he was growing up in France, his schools were excused for lunch. Yes, he had family lunches and family dinners. And, as I've experienced during my time at his childhood home, French family dinners can last quite a long time. From the aperitif to the meal itself,  plus the occasional cheese tray, dessert and digestive, I've spent a good three hours consuming one meal and enjoying the conversation that goes along with it.

It only seems natural to continue this tradition. In fact, the husband and I even worked in a line about sharing good food into our wedding vows. Each night, you can find us in the kitchen, sharing a homemade meal (with the exception of ordering the occasional pizza). It just might be my favorite part of the day as I catch up with my handsome husband over a delicious meal. I know it won't always be easy to keep this practice in action as we add to our family, but I'm confident that the benefits and memories will be worth the challenge.

Marriage Musings: "What my baby wants, my baby gets."

I will always remember the first time that I looked at the husband and said "What my baby wants, my baby gets." I will always remember this because it was quite possibly the first time that I consciously, actively, deliberately pushed what I wanted to the side in order to make him happy. (Side note: I realize this makes me sound completely spoiled and self-centered -- which I really hope is not the case -- but this is truly the first time I remember thinking "Ugh, I do not want to do this at all but FINE, I'll do it anyways" and then making up my mind to not only go along with it, but also to enjoy it.) It wasn't some huge, life-shattering event, but in the end, it made a big difference.

Let's back up a bit. In March 2012, we were spending a week in Florida for a spring vacation. It was our first time together since he had proposed, and I was on cloud nine as we enjoyed our time together as an engaged couple.

This is what cloud nine looks like.

Yet all I wanted to do was lay on the beach. Lay on the beach, dip my toes in the ocean, soak up the sun, and repeat. Yes, that is pretty much all I had planned. It was my only break from school and student teaching that semester, and I felt that I deserved to be a lazy pile of bones if I wanted to. The husband, quite contrarily, had had enough of laying around. He was ready to get off the lounge chairs, take a shower, walk along the beach and into town, and find a place for dinner ... a plan that was much more active than what I had in mind. But, I could see that he needed to move, so as I stood up to head into the condo, I looked at him and said:

"What my baby wants, my baby gets."

I felt a bit cranky at first, but quickly realized that a cranky partner for the evening was not what he wanted, and not what I had agreed to with my previous comment. So, I sucked it up and let him call the shots. As we left the condo and started walking, I could see the husband getting excited for the evening and my spirits were also lifted. We had a long, romantic walk into town along the shore and an even more romantic evening together. An evening that has proved to be one of the most memorable nights of our trip, and an evening that never would have happened had I been stubborn and selfish.

This saying has now become quite commonplace in our marriage, and I believe it has made a big difference. Marriage is, obviously, about compromise, but I think you can even take that one step further. Marriage is about noticing when your partner wants or needs something more than you may want or need something else ... and then making it happen.

Ever since that day in March, the husband and I have taken care to notice when the other has an idea that they feel strongly about. We then we recite our little mantra and put it into action. I urge you to try it in your own life. I bet you'll find that not only is the happiness it brings to your partner (or friend or parent or sibling) infectious, but making it a point to push your wants aside for the benefit of another feels great as well. It's a win-win situation, I'm telling you!

Marriage Musings: Always Kiss Me Goodnight

Welcome to the first installment of a series of posts I've decided to call marriage musings. This might be a little ambitious since, to date, I only have three ideas for what I'm going to include in the series, but I'm just going to push on anyways with the confidence that more will come with time.

For this first marriage musing, I'm going to have to come right out and say that our married life is going quite swimmingly. The other day, as we were watching our nightly episode of Six Feet Under, one of the characters made a comment about the first year of marriage being the toughest. We immediately exchanged a glance and noted that we have not yet felt that way. I attribute this to three things. First, we're undoubtedly still in that honeymoon phase you hear so much about. Secondly, I think we're still on cloud nine that we're actually together. In the same city. With no plane ticket ominously looming over our heads waiting to call one of us back home. No, now we're creating a home together, and that is a truly wonderful feeling. Lastly, I feel that we really work at our relationship, our connection and our communication.

I hesitate to use the word work, but because my thesaurus is failing me, I guess I have to. I hesitate because, though we do work at our marriage, it doesn't feel like work. I can honestly say that I enjoy the effort I put forth to make things run smoothly. When the husband is happy, I feed off his happiness. And when I know that I contributed to his good mood, that feels even better. The work is most definitely worth it.

Plus, a lot of our efforts are fun.

Over the summer, during one of my many trips to the Albert Cuyp Markt, I came across this piece of artwork slash photo display that, despite it's kind of ugly hodgepodge appearance, had a good message.

Always kiss me goodnight.

Of course! Began my inner monologue.

Of course I kiss my man goodnight every night. 
I totally do. Right? 
Yea, I do. I must. 
Why wouldn't I?

I decided that day to really pay attention to these goodnight kisses. It just made sense.

So now, each and every night, I make sure to set aside a special moment. I take the time to say goodnight, and give that handsome husband of mine a kiss. This tiny moment in time gives us one last chance to really connect before we fall asleep. And not only is it nice, it's almost therapeutic as it requires you to leave some of the stress of the day behind you. After all, to give a meaningful kiss, you can't be angry. To give a meaningful kiss, you have to be present. To give a meaningful kiss, you have to let yourself love and feel loved. That hardly seems like work.

Our Second Wedding: A Recap

It's been quite some time since I posted last, but I believe I have a good excuse for being a slacker in the blog department: our second wedding. On the 19th of October, the husband and I tied the knot again, this time in front of our family and friends. Though we had officially been married for a little more than three months, I admittedly didn't feel much of a change after our first wedding. We had made a nice day of the occasion, having lunch with our witnesses in the Vondelpark and drinks with more friends that evening, but afterwards things felt just as they had before. Maybe it's because the vows were in Dutch and I wasn't sure exactly what I was agreeing to? I'm not sure exactly, but what I do know is that this time it feels more official. It feels like something has changed.

Our wedding festivities began the Thursday before the wedding when our overseas guests started to arrive in Amsterdam. I was lucky enough to have fifteen guests travel from the United States, South Korea and China to witness our special day. The husband and I planned a handful of activities to give ourselves and our guests the chance to meet and visit throughout the weekend. We had drinks at a café on Thursday, a breakfast open house at our apartment on Friday morning, and a canal dinner cruise on Friday evening. Planning some of these events was a bit of an afterthought since most of the time leading up to the wedding my mind was focused on all the details of the actual ceremony and reception, but I am so thankful that we arranged it the way we did. It was during these times that I felt like I could breathe, relax and enjoy the company of my guests without letting my mind run a mile a minute. It was also during these times, however, that I felt stretched a bit thin. At any one time, I had my family, my friends from home, and my friends from my time teaching in Korea all together in the same room. Most of me felt blessed that they all chose to push aside their busy schedules, hop on a plane and fly thousands of miles away to support my man and I, but there was also a part of me that felt unable to connect with anyone as intimately as I wanted to. I was always aware of those I was not talking to and felt that the conversations I did have were short and a bit superficial. I wanted to stop time and take each person out to coffee and personally catch up on the four months, year, or three since I had seen them last. Unfortunately my ability to manipulate time is not as powerful as I may wish, so the time I was able to spend with these special people is time that I cherish.

The wedding itself was everything I had hoped for. I had suffered from some major anxiety and lack of sleep leading up to the wedding (I'm sure I'm not alone in this), but of course it was all for nothing. The three nights leading up to the wedding were restless. No matter how exhausted my body was, my mind was wide awake creating to-do lists, categorizing said to-do lists, and fretting over whether there would be daisies in the table bouquets because I really didn't want any daisies and even though I expressed this to the florist maybe she misunderstood my English and thought I told her to use nothing but daisies. But, when it came down to it, I was able to check everything off the to-do lists, the table bouquets were perfect, and everything went off without a hitch.

Well, almost everything. I mean, there has to be at least a small glitch on the big day, right? For us, it was a shoe mishap. On Friday, I was in charge of bringing the wedding clothes for my sister and her husband from my apartment to the hotel (on top of everything else for the wedding, may I add). So, I did. I brought all the clothes. All the clothes and none of the shoes. It wasn't a big deal that night as the canal dinner cruise wasn't a formal affair, but it was important that my man - the man who is known to leave his own belongings behind on a pretty regular basis - remember  to bring them tomorrow.

"What do you need to bring tomorrow?" I asked about a million times that night.
"Rob and Chelsea's shoes," he'd answer.
"Where are Rob and Chelsea's shoes?" I'd chirp back.
"On the shelf in the spare room." Ok. Got it. Good.

The next day, as the husband and I were walking back to the hotel after getting our pictures taken not only by our photographers but also by many passing tourists, I called my sister to make sure everyone was ready for the family photos. She reported that everyone was there and accounted for, but that Rob's shoes were missing. I looked to my man who, innocently, said he had brought them. He brought the ladies' shoes that were on the shelf and the men's shoes that were in the bag next to the shelf. Next to the shelf, not on the shelf like we had gone over a bajillion times. But hey, it was his wedding day, gotta cut the guy a little slack right? I mean, I know my nerves were out of whack and my mind was in a million places. So, with some deep breaths and phone calls we quickly realized that the shoes he brought belonged to Guillaume, his childhood friend who was staying at our apartment. Another phone call later and it was decided that, because thankfully the guys wore the same size, Rob would wear Guillaume's shoes for the pictures and that they would do a shoe swap once Guillaume arrived at the hotel. As I said before, every wedding needs a mix-up. And our photographers caught ours on film:

"Ok babe, tell me exactly, where did you find the shoes that you brought?"

Planning shoe-swaps, averting crises.

After that, it was smooth sailing. Some highlights include, but of course are not limited to, the following:

The ceremony. Our dear friend officiated the ceremony and did an incredible job. It was just the right amount of funny, touching and personal, and she even graced us with her vocal talents by singing a love song. It was very important to us that Dutch, French and English all be incorporated into our ceremony, and I'm happy to say that we succeeded. My childhood friend read a blessing in English, my man's sister read a poem in French, and our officiant's song was in Dutch. We also presented each other with our rings in French and, in the spirit of marriage and support, made sure to help each other through the parts we had trouble remembering.

The love song. My mother-in-law wrote us a song to the tune of Yellow Submarine which all of the wedding guests surprised us by singing after our champagne toast (unfortunately I don't have any photos of this yet). This might have been my favorite moment of the whole evening; the husband and I standing up on a staircase, looking down over all of our dearest friends and family as they sang up to us. It was the perfect way to see all of their smiling faces while taking a moment to exhale after the ceremony ... not to mention a perfect start to the celebration as well!

The speeches. Talk about feeling loved! Our fathers, my sister and my man's brother gave heartfelt, make you laugh and then make you cry speeches. My dad translated the last part of his speech into both French and Dutch (I commend your effort, Daboon!), my sister worked in a plot synopsis of our favorite childhood movie Sillyville, and my man's brother surprised us with a picture slideshow (which hilariously featured my chubby baby pictures as The Guess Who's American Woman was playing). 

The dance. The evening ended with a serious dance party. The dance floor was packed the whole time and the DJ did a great job of playing all the classics that I had requested. He didn't, however, do a great job of transitioning from song to song or following my request not to come out from behind the DJ booth to sing along. But hey, it's these unplanned moments that you laugh about later ... and we have.

So there it is: our second wedding. And now that I'm wrapping up this post, I think I've figured out what it is that made things feel different after this wedding. I have always been, at my very core, an extroverted person who places much value on family and friendship. Well, with this wedding I had the opportunity to feed off of the love, happiness and support of those that mean the most to me. I got to have moments like these:

Sillywhim sisters sharing a giggle.

Seeing my dad for the first time.

Wrapping my bouquet with lace from my mom's wedding dress, with my mom's help.

I once overheard my sister's friend saying that her own wedding was by far the best wedding she had ever been too. I remember thinking that that was such a great thing to be able to say, and I hoped that one day I would feel the same way.

I do.



All photos by Luis Monteiro

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.