"Thats Dutch"

The view from the bridge on my way into down town. The windmills were  originally used as mills for grain to pump water through canals like this one.

Disclaimer

Disclaimer: On more than one occasion, after several pints, I have told of or written down and given the web address of my blog to members of the baseball club here. Content of my posts has then made its way back to me in the form of a player I coach telling me he would no longer smoke on game days and a player I play with telling me I got detail of the bench clearing brawl wrong. (His nickname is Choy. He is my third baseman and I promised I would refer to him.) I wanted to do this so I could record my experience for myself but also communicate with friends and family back home. I want to keep most details and opinions accurate (unless it makes for a better story) but I don’t want to make things awkward between my host and me. So I will try to walk that line but also be clear that nothing I write here is intended to change the relationships I have here on anywhere else.

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Tuesday

The honeymoon has yet to wear off. I thought that after a short time, the peoples' welcome to me would fade. But after another long weekend I realize that it is partly the small community that I am living in but mostly it is deep seeded cultural norm. Last night I learned that they call it gezzelig. It lacks any literal translation I am becoming familiar with its meaning through my experience. I commented on this type of hospitality to one of my new friends I met at pub on Sunday and she simple replied, "That's Dutch." It’s as Dutch as windmills and wooden shoes.

My least favorite part of their hospitality is the toll that it takes on my liver. Their warm welcome is almost always accompanied by a cold, freshly poured Amstel topped with a perfect two fingers height of frothy “shuim.” It's a sacrifice I am willing to make. And besides, I wouldn’t want be rude.

My favorite part is that not only do they invite you into conversation, but these conversations are about real life. Not once have I had a conversation about the weather unless we were about how the wind blows across the baseball field. Most often people will invite me into conversation by asking me “How have I like my stay in Holland so far?” I answer honestly and tell them I have truly enjoyed it and then usually remark on the differences between here and the places I have lived. This usually sparks plenty of conversation in them. I have enjoyed conversations about tax, religion, personal freedom, wars, race, jobs, rights, space (not outer), and of course food, music, and culture. You may now be thinking that there would be considerable discomfort between my hosts and me. Well, if there is, they do not show it. (See Disclaimer Above)

The beauty of all this is what makes it work. They are not afraid to be honest and discuss or disagree and yet they do it politely. I have conversed with people who have recalled their experience here during world WWII and with some who are young and just starting to learn English. With me and among themselves they are very respectful and give everybody a fair listen. Their conversation turn taking is like nothing I have ever seen. In addition, every activity is accompanied by a social encore. For example, I was at the field yesterday because one of the Juniors asked me to help him become a better hitter. (Save your disbelief. I can teach hitting to those who have never hit before.) When his hands were raw we began to pick up to balls and return it all to the shed. As I picked up my backpack and headed towards my bike he asked me, "Are you just going to leave now?" How naive could I be? I took a seat at the picnic table where my backpack had sat. He sat down across from me and lit up a cigarette. I politely declined and we talked about his job as a retirement investment call center representative. "You just have to convince them that they are going to have problems," the 19 year old explained to me.  I am learning something new every day.

I have had many such conversations but I liked one in particular. On Sunday I ran into a new friend at a “Coffee Shop” and we began talking as when he helped translate my order. We continued talking for quite some time, because that’s what happens when you sit down in a “Coffee Shop.”