Hiatus

If you've been coming to visit me here at Adventures in Integration over the last three years, you'd have noticed that it has been a bit dead here lately.  I thought I'd better pop by myself and offer an explanation.

Time.  Pure and simple.  I don't have much of it left over once I've been to work, looked after my daughter, had dinner and spent the evening working on my side project; my crochet business MissNeriss.  Blogging isn't the only aspect of life that has fallen by the wayside, you should see the state of my house.  Not great.

A lot of the "spare" time I do have is spent trying to figure out the balance between work and family, and to try and work on my own health and self esteem.  I've started doing yoga at home, which is actually helping me a lot.  The quiet brings a lot of clarity and calm.  God, doesn't that sound wanky.  But it's true.  It's good for soul searching.  When I'm not collapsing from trying to hold some sort of reverse plank position!

So, something has to give and unfortunately, this is it.  I'm going to be away from this page for a while.  I'm not sure how long.  Hopefully not permanently, because this place has brought me so much joy and so many lasting friendships, both online and in real life.  But let us say that you won't find me here again this year.  When it comes to resolution time in January, I'll see how I'm going, and if the ideas that are bursting out of me actually make it onto the page.

Until then, let's stay in touch.  You can always get me via Facebook, and you can come join me at missneriss.com and check out the adorable creations that have been taking all my time...

Cheers!

GROOTS met een zachte G

Every year in Eindhoven, Brabant's favourite son Guus Meeuwis performs his three-day extravaganza - Groots met een zachte G.  Basically it's one massive party, with singing, conga lines, beer throwing, dancing and of course, beer drinking.

This year my sisters in law gave me a ticket for my birthday and it was an absolute cracker!  I couldn't understand much, but could sing along to my favourites - Het is een Nacht, Brabant, and of course, Kedang Kedang (which has to be heard to be believed!).

I had such a great time; I even had to get myself a souvenir - a pair of Guus Glasses:

Like my duckface selfie?

Thanks girls, I loved the concert.  Loved it.

My first Lustrum

Five years ago yesterday I hopped on a plane from Bristol and flew to the Netherlands to live with Maarten after almost a year in a long distance relationship.  Five years ago yesterday I was planning a short term solution to our problems of not being able to relocate to Australia.  Five years ago yesterday I was full of hope, confidence and excitement for the future.  Five years ago yesterday the weather was warm (damnit!).

So how has my short term solution panned out?  Well, not so short after all.  Life seemed to get in the way.  We bought a house, got married and then had a baby.  Now that baby is a toddler and we're no closer to moving to Australia.

How did I celebrate?  With a new bicycle!  One of the greatest aspects of working in the Netherlands is that every year in May you are paid 8% of your gross salary as "Holiday money."  Essentially you put money aside from your salary each month and are given a lump sum in May to help with whatever it is you plan to do over the summer (holidays, renovations, savings, whatever).  I decided to do two things with my holiday money: contract an amazing professional illustrator to create some graphics for my blossoming crochet business and buy a new bike.

A bike has been high on my list of priorities for more than a year.  I have to carry Raina to and from day care quite a bit, so I have been carrying her on my back in my Stokke MyCarrier since she was about ten weeks old.  I'm not exactly sure if it's against the law to do this, but it's really not recommended although I've always felt safe and in control.  But, this was never a long term solution.  Both my and Maarten's bikes are not really suitable to attach a child seat to, we don't have the space to store a trailer, and we don't have the spare 1600 euros for a bakfiets and nor do I want to push that sucker around all day long.

So, I started looking around for cool bikes.  My friend Sanne (hi Sanne!) bought a new bike a couple of years ago and I remember her saying that if you're going to spend s bucket-load of cash on a bike, make it a cool one.  And what a cool bike I found!

It's actually even cooler now, because Maarten bought a bright pink seat for Raina, so she sits just behind the handlebars and absolutely loves it.

So is my integration finally complete?  I complete my daily life in Dutch, I've been naked at the sauna, I eat and enjoy boerenkool, I use the word "Gezellig" in normal conversation, I am no longer even mildly surprised when I'm elbowed out the way so an old lady/kid/business man can get on or off the bus before me, I moan about the weather every single day, I always hold my line while cycling, and now I have an awesome bike with a child seat.

What's left?  Where will I be in another five years?

Edited to add:  Because I'm celebrating a significant event in my life, I have followed the rules and have brought a tart to work for my colleagues to share.  There's officially nothing left in my path to full integration!

The REAL Final Frontier

A couple of weeks ago I posted about conquering the final frontier.  How going to the dentist and the hairdresser was it and I am as integrated as I could ever possibly be.

I was wrong.

The final frontier is actually the phenomenon that is the Dutch sauna.

Australians may have a bit of a reputation for being exhibitionists.  You often see photos of women at Bondi with the girls out, or some bronzed goddess wading into the surf in only her g-string (thong to you northern hemispheerders*), but it's a safe bet that woman is not an Australian (unless it's Elle MacPherson).  You see the Australians are the women wearing boardies and a singlet over their bikinis.  Something I used to do before coming here.  Well, not quite.  There's not a snowball's chance in hell that I would wear a bikini.  Under boardies or not.

So, that's a bit of background.  Maarten has been suggesting for years that we go to a sauna together (that's a day spa for you who don't live in the Netherlands) however I have always resisted.  I mean, it took me about eighteen months before I would allow Maarten to see me naked in the shower (or anywhere with the lights on, for that matter).  How was I going to get my gear off and go swimming and lounging in a sauna in front of a couple of hundred complete strangers?!  Can you tell that I don't have the greatest body image?

Not long after Raina was born, he convinced me to give it a try.  I decided I could hide behind just having given birth as to why I looked so horrid in the mirror naked and thought; "It's now or never."  Off we went to Zwaluwhoeve in Hardewijk.  Waiting in the queue at reception I almost chickened out.  It didn't matter that even though I was searching everywhere and couldn't find a single Doutzen Kroes look-alike, I was terrified.  I was desperate that nobody look at me because they would judge me and my saggy bits and cellulite.

But I didn't.  I made it into the changing room and found myself standing across from two guys unceremoniously stripping off.  Down to their todgers.  Bending over in front of me and everything.  My eyes would have popped out of my head if I wasn't so busy trying to avoid looking.

Meanwhile I was revisiting some classic manoeuvres that I hadn't used since getting changed in high school.  You know, where you would put a second outfit on before cleverly removing the first.  Not showing a single bit of extra flesh.  When I was fifteen I was the master at this.

So, I managed to wiggle out of my jeans and into my robe, only flashing a little bit of boob (I was trying not to appear to be too obviously prudish, you see) and it was time to hit the sauna, via the group shower.  There was no avoiding hiding in my robe any longer.  So I slowly slid the robe off, shuffled into the shower and faced the wall, all the while chanting "Don't look at me, don't look at me," over and over in my head.  Well, the chanting was fighting for space with "Don't judge me, don't judge me," so it wasn't a particularly relaxing start to the day.

I was forced to get out of the shower eventually and join the naked population.  It was only then that I opened my eyes properly and had a good look around me at the other people and you know what?  There were no perfect bodies.  Not one.  Every single one was "flawed" by society's standards (meaning that they had bits that would be photo-shopped if on the cover of any magazine in the world).  We were all just people and we all had perfect bits and not-perfect bits.  We just have this image in our heads as to what's perfect and what's not.  We're bombarded with messages every day reminding us that our bodies are less than perfect and I've taken this message to heart more than any sane person should.

I made the decision then and there that it was time to stop being so precious and get on with it.

So I dropped the towel and hit the pool like I hadn't a care in the world.  Plus, my boobs were so happy, floating there in the water...  As the day went on, my confidence grew.  I stopped noticing what the other people looked like and just gave into the experience.  I swam, I baked, I scrubbed and I was massaged to the point where if I was any more relaxed I would have been dead.

I walked out at the end of the day with my head held high and ready to book my next trip to the sauna.

That, my friends was me conquering the final frontier.


Have you been to a Dutch sauna?  How do you feel about getting naked in front of a couple of hundred strangers?  Or would you only go on swimsuit day?



*Yes, I did just make that word up.

A Return to Regular Programming....

So you may have noticed that I have been absent for a while.  Almost six months it turns out!  For a while I thought that this blog might have been dead in the water, but pestering from my husband has seen me pull my finger out and try to write something again.

In February I gave birth to a gorgeous little girl who is the light and the bane of my life.  The first few weeks were probably the hardest of my life.  Giving birth was a piece of cake in comparison.  But now we have found our rhythm and are getting along famously.  I’m back at work and a new normalcy is fast becoming established.

And as for my adventures in integration?  Well I think I’m nearly there.  I conquered one of my final frontiers a few weeks ago – going to the doctor and speaking only in Dutch.  Only the hairdresser to go now!  My life is almost completely dutchified.  I look out the window and it’s pouring with rain (in June, of course it is.  Summer is O.V.E.R.) but I didn’t even consider taking the bus.  Not an option.  I even take the baby on the bike in a carrier.  You should have seen me last Friday:  Baby, shopping, flowers and lunch; all on the bike.  Too easy.

I think I’ve moved through to the final stage of culture shock – mastery – and am happier and happier every day.  That’s not to say that I don’t encounter my share of idiots on a daily basis, because I do.  I’ve started an ‘idiot count’ which keeps me entertained on my way to and from work each day on the bike.  The big difference between now and a year ago is that now it entertains me instead of making me want to shoot people!

Before the baby appeared I started to become more involved in the Almere English speaking community International Almere.  In fact, I’m now the organisation’s secretary.  Having said that, in the last few months I have been so wrapped up in my own world that I haven’t had time to do much – not even attend any of the events that happen every single week!  I’m hoping that now I’m back out in the big wide world I can be more involved again as it’s such a fun organisation to be a part of!  So (shameless plug alert!) if you live in Almere, come join us.  You don’t have to be from abroad, almost half our members are dutchies!

Another invaluable resource has been the ABCDE Playgroup.  Not that I’ve had a chance to attend any of their popular Wednesday or Thursday get togethers, but the Facebook group is very lively and it’s wonderful to just know that the support is there whenever I need it.  The fabulous Becky who runs it is also a childbirth educator and helped me no end build my confidence before I went into labour.  I really, truthfully could not have done it without her. But, more about Becky in a later post about the best and worst choices I made while pregnant and after the wee one was born.

So, coming up in the near future:

My birthstory; are you ready to hear all the gory details?

The best (and worst) buys I made for my baby.

The choices I made and the far reaching effects,

Going back to work; good or bad?

My new obsession,

And let’s not forget a Weekendje Weg post (well, a “weekje” weg in this case).

It’s great to be back.  I’ve missed you.

Here she is - she's too big for that outfit now!

Is that light I see at the end of the tunnel?

Just recently I’ve noticed a shift in my perception and attitude to life here in the Netherlands.  Confrontations or situations that earlier would have left a black cloud hanging over my head for an entire day (or a week, sometimes!) no longer seem to bother me for much longer than a couple of minutes.  Often these days I’ll have a near miss on my bike with an idiot in a car on the way to work and by the time I arrive at the office it has been forgotten.

I have been wondering to myself if perhaps, finally, I’m transitioning through the stages of culture shock.  It is generally understood that culture shock passes within a few months (certainly within a year), but I talk to people here in the Netherlands who are clearly still struggling, often after a few years.  I certainly have been!

According to Wikipedia culture shock has four distinct phases; Honeymoon, Negotiation, Adjustment and Mastery.  In the honeymoon phase everything is lovely and new, bright and shiny, exciting and fascinating.  The negotiation phase tends to kick in once one realises that life isn’t actually all roses.  Differences between the home culture and new culture become glaringly apparent, and the differences are often difficult to deal with.  Language, social interaction and perhaps one of the big issues for people coming to the Netherlands is the attitude within primary health care and its magical wonder drug, paracetamol, can become overwhelming.

Eventually the negotiation phase fades and the adjustment stage will begin. Wikipedia states that this usually happens between the six and twelve month mark, although if my own experience is anything to go by, it can take much, much longer.  In the adjustment phase one will develop more of a positive outlook and deal with issues as they arise instead of getting bogged down in the differences and difficulties that they would have during the negotiation phase.

Finally, the mastery phase.  Basically full integration.  This does not mean losing one’s own cultural identity, but becoming comfortable enough in the new country that they finally feel at home and at ease.

I have been struggling along in the negotiation phase for a very long time.  So long in fact, that I don’t even remember the honeymoon phase.  Perhaps my honeymoon phase was in the time when I was just a regular visitor, rather than a resident.  I do remember marvelling at the ING building in Amsterdam Zuid on my first trip and traversing the Oosterschelde and Afluitdijk respectively was an incredible experience for me.

But, I have so many memories of incidents and hurdles that really bogged me down.  Regular tantrums in the supermarket for not being able to find the "right" products.  Horror and anger that would last for days at a perceived slight from an encounter in public.  Throwing my homework across the room and refusing to continue at the tone of some to the integration coursework.  Uncontrollable tears when I break three wine glasses in one day because I’m just useless and can’t do anything right (that was a merry Christmas, let me tell you).  All things that should in all seriousness be water off a ducks back.  But they just weren’t.  Everything was so much harder.  I would take everything personally.  Maarten has been unbelievably patient with me for a very long time and it’s really only now that I’m coming out the other end that I realise just how trying I must have been (who am I kidding, still am!).

Why has the transition into adjustment finally come about after so long?  I really think that it has to do with all of the health dramas I’ve had this year.  As a consequence of being ill, I’ve had to put myself out there and speak Dutch.  I’ve had to be proactive in interacting with others.  I’ve had to take a good look at myself and my own attitude.  

It’s really only been in the last week or so that I’ve actually noticed this shift in my own attitude.  I’m happier more than I have been the entire three and a half years living here in the Netherlands.  I can finally have a meaningful conversation with my mother in law as I am much more confident with my level of Dutch.  When I encounter antisocial behaviour (daily) I’ll just think “sukkel” and forget about it almost immediately.

By no means does my new outlook make me reflect and think that my old attitude was ridiculous and invalid.  I don’t doubt that others around me believe(d) that I was behaving like a crazed harpy, but that makes my own feelings no less important or relevant.  Life has been a real struggle for me in the last few years.  I could not count the amount of hours, days or probably even weeks that I’ve spent wishing that I could be in Australia, or even anywhere else if I'm honest.  I do truly believe that there are real social and behavioural issues that need dealing with here in the Netherlands which have been a huge factor in how I've felt.  The bubble mentality is so ingrained that it is very obvious that many, many people think only of themselves.  You can enter any supermarket or stand in any queue and experience it.  Maarten’s grandfather, who is quite possibly the most lovely man you could meet turns into a shoving monster when he’s put into a queue for free food.  His appalling behaviour has to be seen to be believed!

What happens now?  I keep moving up.  I seem to be slowly evolving into more of a glass half full type of person and I’m liking this new outlook.  I’m not walking around with a dark cloud hovering over my head any more.  I can finally see and appreciate my life and how damned good I have it.

And let’s face it.  I have some pretty cool experiences coming up soon.  Not only am I having a baby in a few months, but my mum is making her first trip abroad to visit us.  This is huge.  The woman is terrified of flying and is going to put herself through quite possibly the worst plane journey on earth in the middle of our winter just to come here.  It makes my heart sing.

Lastly, I’m going to master this culture shock if it kills me.

Which stage are you at in the four phases of culture shock? How have you coped? How long has it taken you to see the light at the end of the tunnel?