Hitting Send

When Antonia neared her fifth birthday I had an overpowering drive to move to Europe. I aimed for France, but upon arriving, chose Holland, instead. Living in Holland was a marvelous adventure. It gave us the opportunity to experience day to day living in a European culture. Given that our ancestors were all Northern Europeans, this was a wonderful chance to taste, perhaps, a bit of what they had left behind in coming to America.

One thing I loved about Holland is that it is full of cafes, and not the kind where you sit outside under an umbrella sipping wine or tea. But neighborhood cafes where people in the neighhorhood actually congregated and drank wine and talked and laughed and chatted without ever feeling like you were in a bar or a pub. Cafes were watering holes and all neighborhoods had them. Musicians would traipse in from time to time, sing songs, collect change and travel on to the next cafe (known as busking) creating a lively free-flowing ambience for all involved. It was a charming, friendly atmosphere.

I often recall the evening that I entered one such cafe in my earliest days in Holland and I was shocked as I entered to view my mind thinking the following thought, “You mean all these people are not Americans and it’s OK?” In other words, I realized in a flash of upending consciousness, I had been majorly programmed, however inadvertently, to believe that American was the Way to Go. It was definitely NOT part of my programming that it was Great To Be Dutch. Or French. Or English. Or any other nationality, frankly. It was Great To Be An American. So I was suddenly needing to integrate that other people had other programming and other considerations, choices and preferences! What a shock!

In the three years I lived in Holland I learned a lot about how some other countries view things differently. Peeks into my Dutch experience included, but were not limited to:

*prostitution was legal and regulated.
*pot was not that big a deal; you could buy it openly in clubs.
*the Dutch had Youth Centers all over the country; I know; I performed in a lot of them.

Small aside: on one such journey, to the north of Holland we arrived at the club where we were scheduled to perform only to learn that a small group of young people had recently squatted a local empty government building. We were asked if we might be willing to perform for these young people. Upon affirming our willingness we were whisked away in a taxi, where we were ushered into said building. We sang cheerfully and were applauded and we were shepherded back to our assigned club where we performed. I will never forget that the City Fathers of that town regarded the squatting episode as a youthful folly. They simply said, “They will get tired. And they will go home.” Apparently that is precisely what happened. I found myself imagining what would have happened had this incident occurred in the States. I imagined tanks arriving, sans musicians.

*So this would be a timely place to explain that squatting was legal in Holland and there were rules in place that squatters needed to follow in order to maintain their claim. It would probably take an extended stay in Holland where a roof over your head is not easily come by in order to understand how much a travesty an Empty Building would be regarded in that culture.

*I would also have to say that at that time I never saw homeless or crazy people on the street in Holland. The Dutch government always seemed to care for its people, including those who would be labled the “disenfranchised” in the United States.

*The Dutch have a charming, practical practice of leaving anything they do not want on the sidewalk and it’s yours for free. I once decided I wanted a dollhouse for Antonia, and the next week I found a huge handmade dollhouse (all you could wish for and more) on the street and brought it home!

Yes, we loved Holland and the Dutch. They are kind, grounded, friendly, practical people who, having few topographical barriers, have survived by learning to accept change and difference. We have much to learn from them…