“I’ll be there for
you! As the rain starts to fall. I’ll be there for you, like I’ve been there
before. . . I’ll be there for you, cause you’re there for me too.”
The Friends theme song is blasting through my kitchen. Hum.
This is one of SkyRadio’s more recent tunes. According to my Lonely Planet Netherlands
guidebook, the ‘Don’t Leave Home Without. . .” list includes: “good jacket and scarf” (check!),
“appreciation for flowers” (check!), “220V converter for European plugs” (after
frying my American Crockpot, neubulizer, and
Blue Ray player – check!), “quick reflexes to avoid cyclists” (check!), and
“taste for bad ‘80s music because you won’t be able to escape it.” (uh, working
on it). Driving down the road, my
husband and I often glance at each other when a song comes on the radio. After the intro, I’ll cock my head to one
side and ask, “Jazzercise song?” and more often than not, he will reply, “Oh
yeah.” It’s one of the things we have in
common from our childhood. My mom was a
regular attendee in Texas and his
mom was an instructor in Louisiana . Here in The Netherlands, I’ve heard a range
of warm-up songs, increase your heart-rate songs, and cool down songs. Some of their favorites are, I Just Called To
Say I Love You, Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, & Dancing on the Ceiling. More recently, I’ve heard Ace of Base (All
That She Wants), Savage Garden
So, anyway, the
Friends Theme song is playing and I’m smiling.
I have two friends in this
country. And I’ve only been here 4
months. I think I’m doing pretty well
for a stay-at-home mom who is exhausted and overwhelmed and well, a
stay-at-home mom in The Netherlands. I’m
used to making and keeping friends at work.
2/3 of my wedding party was friends from work. So, how did I find friends? Well, admittedly, there are playgroups and
such around here. We did attend
one. Once. There were about 200 people in a space about
half the size of an elementary school gym and twice as loud. Kids of all ages and backgrounds were running
around and shrieking. The parents around
us were unaffected by the chaos and pleasantly sipped their coffees as the
newcomers stood with eyes wide open as the scene unfolded around us. This was our first month. My family was still accustomed to the
organization of daycare in America . You enter the cozy room, your daughter sits
at a table with kids of her own age. One
teacher leads the kids in singing grace as another one puts a small plate of
food in front of each child. You’re dressed
in your suit and heels, quietly kiss your child on her head, and slip out the
door while mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to the instructors. “Playgroup” was not in our vocabulary. My daughter looked stunned. She stood, feet planted, mouth open. Luckily, my husband was with me. We decided to divide and conquer. I took the baby (then, 3-months old) to a
very large, but questionably sanitary pillow where other babies were just lying
there with their mothers talking. My
husband took our daughter to a large, equally questionably sanitary, inflatable
trampoline. After an hour or so of
making straining-to-hear-you-as-if-I-was-drinking-in-a-loud-noisy-bar-but-I’m-unfortunately-not-small
talk with people from around the world, it was time for singing time. The children and parents struggled to make a
circle with the chairs as one of the instructors(?)/ lead parents (?)/ zealous
volunteers (?) passed out song books and started to lead the choir in their
first song. My husband was one of the
few men in the room. As the chorus
began, an extremely excited man wearing a pink shirt and baby carrier, practically
tripped over my daughter as he encouraged his other child to get
closer-to-the-action in the middle of the circle. It was clear.
This man loved singing time. After we sang the Itsy-Bitsy spider in both
English and Dutch, we justified that it would probably be ok to slip out a
little early, like a Baylor football game in the 1990s: the event wasn’t quite the
success we had hoped for. To top it off, I ended up getting a cold for two
weeks after the playgroup. Perhaps it
came from somewhere else, but on top of everything, it shook me enough to
decide not to go back. At least until
cold season was over.
So, we found
ourselves hanging out at the library.
The library here has a cute children’s area complete with a Pooh bear,
rocking horses, miniature stroller, and tiny shopping cart. They mop the floor every morning and it’s relatively
quiet and organized. I had been to the
library before and heard any number of languages, but on a particular day in
early February, my two kids and I entered the children’s corner of the library
and heard English. American
English. I had been here three
weeks. I was weary and exhausted and as much
as I just wanted to be an ostrich and stick my head in the ground, I knew this
was important. “Look Cosette, they’re speaking
English!” I told her. The girls looked
my way. I smiled, we started talking,
and I found out they were both from Minnesota . One was named Erin ,
and she had fabulous hair and boots (later, I found out, which were both
obtained in Italy ,
where her husband is from). The other
was named Janelle. She started her bio,
like I’m sure she has, so many times before.
“I’ve been here for 10 years. I
came to The Netherlands to study, but I just never left.” This rang a bell with me. Previous to moving here, I had found a blog
on Expatica.com of a woman who lived in Leiden . She had given birth in the country. Her story (for better or worse) made me
decide that was not something I was
interesting in doing. She loved Amsterdam ,
but Leiden suited her well, as it too
has picturesque canals, but a lack of tourists as she described in her post, Amsterdam vs Leiden. Well, it had me. All signs pointed towards Leiden ,
and this mysterious blogger justified all the cosmic forces. After the playgroup adventure, my husband had
suggested I contact her. “Are you
serious? I’m not going to contact her
like a ridiculous groupie!” But as she
reiterated her bio to me in the children’s section of the library, I could not
help myself. “Ten years? From Minnesota ? You wouldn’t happen to be the girl who writes
the ‘BlondeButBright” blog? Would you?”
She threw her head back, slightly embarrassed, and laughed. “Yes.
Yes, I am.” I was no longer aloof
and far, far from cool. I was SO excited. I was a total super-fan and treated her like
a celebrity. “OMG! Let me shake your hand!” I exclaimed! She obliged, with a slightly-uncomfortable
smile. She probably thought I was
crazy. I’m sure she did. But after she had said to please contact
her, packed up her son and left the
library, Erin admitted that she too had found her blog on-line, had contacted
her about giving birth in The Netherlands, and now they were good friends. Wheew.
Okay. Erin
gave me her number and email address.
Happy, but still overwhelmed by just, well, moving here, I contacted her a month later. Ever since then, all three of us have been in
touch, meeting up for coffee, hanging out at the library, and anyone who knows
me, knows I LOVE hosting parties, and I’m pleased to say I brought one of my
favorite traditions to Leiden: Brunch, with my new friends and their
families.
Although I’ll
unfortunately never hear the song on a Dutch radio station due to the decade in
which it was written, I am on the
same continent of the fabulous Beatles song which resonates, “I get by with a
little help from my friends. By with a little help from my friends.” In a country where language, logistics, and
just the daily way of life is completely foreign, nothing could be truer.
I didn't think you were crazy. :) And I'm really glad you spoke up! It's really great following your adventures - here on the blog and in person!
ReplyDeleteYay! You found the Minnesotan!
ReplyDelete