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.

Did we just skip winter?

This post is in no way intended to make my North American readers (especially those so affected by the polar vortex) feel jealous. But it probably will. So for that, I'm sorry.

Amsterdam is all green grass, blue skies and cherry blossoms this winter.

There were a handful of things that made me feel worried about moving to the Netherlands, and two in particular plagued my mind the most. The first was the fact that I was going to be living so far away from my friends and family with no real date set for when I would live near them again. The second was the weather.

The months I had spent in Amsterdam prior to my move evoked the second worry. My visits were either warmer than I preferred, wet and rainy, or colder than I preferred, wet and rainy. I vividly remember that excited feeling I had while packing for my first summer in Amsterdam, carefully folding all my sundresses, skirts and tank tops, throwing in a few cardigans for the colder days, and tucking my sandals along the side of the suitcase. I was so enthusiastic about spending the summer with my man, cruising around on my bike wearing a flowery dress, lounging in the park wearing a flowery dress, drinking coffee or beer at a café in the sunshine wearing a flowery dress ... you get the idea. That said, I also vividly remember that disappointed feeling I had while buying a completely new wardrobe once I arrived, a wardrobe that consisted of jeans, sweaters, scarves and closed-toed shoes. You see, I like my summers to be in the high 70s if we're talking Fahrenheit, in the mid 20s if we're talking Celsius, and full of sunshine no matter what. Anticipating that my summer temperatures would now be in the high 60s if we're talking Fahrenheit, right around 20 degrees if we're talking Celsius, and often accompanied by a chance of showers didn't exactly thrill me.

And the winters? Well, while the two Januarys (Januaries? I don't think I've ever written the plural of a month ending in y before) I spent in Amsterdam were warmer than pretty much any January in Minnesota, the warmer weather usually just meant that it rained more. Plus, it was still cold. Not necessarily freezing, but still cold. Now, it does snow in Amsterdam, and every few years the canals freeze over lending themselves to a fantastic skating experience I've yet to behold, but my short rendezvous with Amsterdam winters had mostly left me feeling like a shivering, drowned rat (pictured in this post).

So just imagine my surprise! My excitement! My elation! When I discovered that my worries about the weather were all for naught. This summer in Amsterdam was absolutely beautiful, and I took full advantage of this by basking in the sun on my balcony, picnicking in the park, and drinking coffee and beer at cafés in the sunshine. My only regret was that I neglected to pack my full collection of sundresses when I moved, thinking that they would spend most of their time hanging in my closet, taunting me every time I reached for a long-sleeved shirt instead.

And this winter? Well, I think we actually may have skipped it. As of now, we've only had a handful of days during which the lowest temperature dipped below freezing, and the maybe two not-even-worth-talking-about snowfalls lasted about five seconds with all flakes melting before they hit the ground. At first, I wasn't so happy about the lack of snow (I like my winters white ... and am beginning to realize that I have quite a long list of preferences regarding the weather), but now that we approach March and I find myself biking to work without gloves, I'm starting to change my mind.

If we did, indeed, skip winter, you won't hear me complaining. If this phenomenal Dutch weather continues, I may write off that initial worry altogether. And if you're looking for a reason behind this great weather, well, I like to think I brought it with me.

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).

Sinterklaas and his friend Zwarte Piet - the most beloved and contested man in the Netherlands

On Sunday, Sinterklaas arrived on his boat from Spain to kick off the holiday season in the Netherlands. While Sinterklaas is celebrated on December 6th, the name day of Saint Nicholas (patron saint of children), the man himself comes to Holland earlier for reasons I'm not so sure. What I do know is that there was a huge parade to celebrate his arrival, starting with the docking of his boat on the Amstel River and ending with a big party in Leidseplein where I happened to watch the festivities.

Who is Sinterklaas you may ask? Well, let's take a closer look.

My apologies for the blurry picture.

Like Santa Claus, Sinterklaas has a long white beard and dresses in red.

Unlike Santa Claus, Sinterklaas' hat looks more like the pope's, his stature is much slimmer, and he has a cape. He also rides a white horse instead of a sled pulled by reindeer.

Like Santa Claus, Sinterklaas rewards good children by bringing gifts.

Unlike Santa Claus, Sinterklaas visits children during the night of December 5th. On the morning of December 6th, children traditionally wake up to candy, and more specifically a chocolate letter of their first initial, in their shoes.

Also like the Christmas tradition, children will leave goodies for Sinterklaas before they go to bed: usually carrots and sugar cubes for his horse, a cup of coffee for the man himself and, according to Wikipedia, a beer for his helper Zwarte Piet.

Who is Zwarte Piet? Well, today Zwarte Piet is probably the most contested figure in the Netherlands.

Meet just a few of the parade's Zwarte Piets.

I was first introduced to Zwarte Piet when I read the chapter Six to Eight Black Men in David Sedaris' book Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. Regardless of whether you're a David Sedaris fan like myself, you should definitely check it out by either reading it or listening to it here.

What I learned from this essay is that, like Santa Claus, Sinterklaas has helpers. But unlike Santa Claus' magical elves who build toys in the North Pole, Sinterklaas' helpers are black men named Zwarte Piet. Yes, they all have the same name. And, in history, they each used to carry out only one task as they weren't known to be the smartest people.

While naughty children in the States get punished by receiving coal in their Christmas stockings, naughty children in the Netherlands may get spanked or, in earlier times, put into a bag and taken back to Spain by Zwarte Piet.

In the past, Zwarte Piet was known as a servant, saved from slavery by Sinterklaas and so happy for his freedom that he decided to stay and offer his services. Today, I'm pretty sure the word servant is no longer used, and instead Zwarte Piet is known as a helper or companion.

In yesterday's parade, there were more than 600 Zwarte Piets accompanying Sinterklaas. They walked, ran, pranced and skipped down the street while handing out candy and pepernoten (a gingerbread-like cookie) to the children. Here's a video:

I'm guessing it's easy to see why Zwarte Piet is so contested in the Netherlands. Prepared as I was for what was going to take place, seeing hundreds of people of all ages and genders dressed in blackface was still an absolute shock. As an outsider and someone completely removed from the tradition, it was very interesting to see that this racist practice is not only allowed but cherished in a culture. There were even some small children in blackface, dressed up as Zwarte Piet for the day's festivities.

A young Zwarte Piet.

Yesterday's parade came with many protesters trying to change the face of Zwarte Piet. And some changes have already been made. For example, Zwarte Piet usually wears big gold hoop earrings which were banned from this year's parade. It's a minuscule step for certain, and one that many feel is much too small, but I suppose any progress is a good thing.

What also surprised me was to see how loved Zwarte Piet is by children and adults alike. Apparently, the character speaks in poor Dutch and acts foolish, but I didn't see that. Granted I can't distinguish good Dutch from poor Dutch, but the Zwarte Piets that I saw weren't acting senseless. I mean, there were some Zwarte Piets doing acrobatics, but isn't it normal for people parading in costume to act a bit silly?

Zwarte Piet handing out pepernoten to some children.

What I did see were children dressed up like and eager to get their picture taken with one of their favorite holiday characters. I saw excitement and happiness on the faces of the observers, and in the Zwarte Piets I saw some of the most generous parade participants ever. I mean, everyone got lots of candy. Everyone.

I'm not defending the practice of dressing up as Zwarte Piet in the slightest, but I do personally know how important and magical holiday traditions can be. I mean, Santa Claus still comes to our house (I'm 29), and it's been a difficult past few years when the Easter Bunny has stopped hiding candy.

Many of the Dutch strongly defend their tradition and stand by their belief that Zwarte Piet is not perpetuating racism, but the opposition is growing stronger each year. As an article in The Economist so aptly put it, "even if a year ago [Zwarte Piet} was not a symbol of Dutch racism, he is now."

Here's hoping that the Dutch can find a way to maintain their holiday practices in a more respectful light, and soon.

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)

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.