Life So Far

In case you’re curious to know what we’ve been up to since our move, here’s a rundown of the last couple of weeks. I kept a small journal for the first few days of our life here, so the recollections from that period will be good. For the last few days, however, I’ll have to dredge up events from my memory.

12th and 13th August

Wiesje cried for about five minutes on board the plane. Other passengers commented on how well she had done. On Thursday, Sarah and I had bought her a dummy to suck on during take-off and landing, and this turned out to work very well.

Joost and Helma picked us up from the airport and brought us home with our six checked-in bags and multiple items of hand luggage.

When we arrived at our new home, the landlord and his wife were still cleaning the place and hauling away rubbish. After they had shown us around the place, we were left to our own devices. Tired, but hyped up on nervous energy, we went out for a short walk in the afternoon, paying a quick visit to the local Albert Heijn to purchase some groceries.

In the evening, we grabbed a quick dinner at an outside table of a Thai restaurant across the road. When Wiesje became tired and started to cry, some old folks at the table behind us started to criticise our parenting skills, thinking that I couldn’t understand Dutch. They thought she was too cold in her sling. I considered pointing out that our daughter was jetlagged, not cold, and that they should take more care when they talk about people who are within earshot, but I didn’t want our first day back to be marred by an exchange of harsh words. As it happened, the experience marred the day, anyway.

All in all, it was an inauspicious start to our new life back in The Netherlands. No tears of joy, no inner feeling of contentment; no sense at all of having returned to my true home. Did I get it wrong? Am I American inside now? I started to wonder.

I can’t finish talking about the 12th without taking a moment to thank Geoff, who ensured that I got to the airport on time with the remainder of our many, many bags.

14th August

The calm before the storm. Not much can be done today, so we decide to take it easy and just amble around town.

A good jet lag strategy on Saturday means that Sarah and I awake at 09:30 Sunday morning and are over the problem in one fell swoop. Eloïse will take a litle longer to adjust, however.

We grab breakfast at Café Nielsen (a spot discovered by Geoff and me last year) and are immediately irritated by the acrid smell of cigarette smoke wafting our way from somewhere. Yes, we’re definitely back in The Netherlands.

I knew this was going to be an issue, but now that I’m a father, I realise I had underestimated how much it would now offend me. In terms of public smoking policy, this place is in the dark ages and will continue to piss me off until smoking is banned from catering establishments.

Later in the day, we start to look into getting a fixed phone, a mobile phone and ADSL. I do the paperwork for a home phone at the Primafoon shop and try to sign up to have my 10 year old XS4ALL dial-in subscription converted to an ADSL one, but alas, my address is still listed as the one I lived at back in 1999 and the woman helping me is worried that this will throw a spanner in the works of the order.

XS4ALL’s customer service is closed, so I have to wait until Monday to fix the problem.

15th August

We head down to the Dienst Persoonsgevens early in the morning to get a residence permit for Sarah. It turns out that all we can do for now is take away some forms to fill in. Things have changed a lot since I first arrived here as a foreigner in 1991.

I then attempt to register myself and Eloïse on the Amsterdam population register, which opens the next can of worms. My surname is listed in my passport as MAC DONALD (it’s common to use a space in Mc and Mac names in official documents), but Eloïse’s birth certificate and passport both give her surname as Macdonald. What? But that’s the same name, you say? Not here, it isn’t. Those names may as well be Smith and Jones, because as far as the bureaucrats are concerned, they’re as different as chalk and cheese.

So, Eloïse and I officially have different surnames under Dutch law and I was cautioned by the woman at the population register that I can expect questions and hassle somewhere down the line when Eloïse goes to school. Bureaucratic hassle? Me? Surely not! Tell me something fucking new.

Even better, because Sarah and I were married abroad (in the US), the Dienst Persoonsgegevens must ask the Immigratie- en Naturalisatiedienst (the Dutch Immigration and Naturalisation Service) for permission to register the marriage in The Netherlands. Even though we had an apostille attached to the document,

they apparently still need to do this. I suppose they wouldn’t even take it into consideration if it didn’t have an apostille.

As a result, my marriage status under Dutch law is ongehuwd (unmarried). I’m single again!

I signed up for a mobile telephone today. A two year contract and KPN 42 subscription bring the cost of a Nokia Communicator 9500 down to €249, a deal that proves irresistible.

What a nice phone! It kicks the arse of my Sony Ericsson P910i, although its e-mail application isn’t quite as easy to operate. The two year contract also removes the service sign-up fee and gives me a 50% discount on the first ten months of my subscription.

At least we now have a phone and can start to communicate with the world again. We were feeling very cut off until now, even though it’s only been a few days since we arrived. There’s already a growing list of people and places we need to call in order to arrange our lives.

16th August

I called the energy company today and signed up for gas and electric to the house. At least we won’t get cut off now.

The estate agent also turned up today to do a walkthrough of the house, read the gas and electric meters and note down the inventory. Since we were left with little furniture, the inventory didn’t take long. I took advantage of the opportunity to list some urgent complaints. Although I received nods of agreement, I know that nothing concrete will come of it. They’ve received their commission and that’ll be that; not that that’ll stop me from trying.

We then walked to the town hall, where I renewed my driving licence. I had tried to do this two years ago, but ran into insurmountable obstacles when it became apparent that I was no longer registered on the Amsterdam population register.

Anyway, this time it worked, and I got to use the photos that I had had taken two years ago for this very purpose, so I look both handsome and youthful on my new document. Believe that and you’ll believe anything.

Since I was at the town hall, anyway, I had them produce an uittreksel (proof of residence document) for Eloïse and myself, as this will be needed to support Sarah’s application for a residence permit.

My so-called unmarried status now comes back to haunt me, as Eloïse is listed as an illegitimate child (or the slightly better Dutch kind buiten gezinsvorming).

Over at the Postbank, I enquire about opening a bank account for Sarah, but, of course, it’s impossible without her being on the population register. She’s also missing a social security number, which is apparently a new requirement since 2001, but also something she can’t get until she is granted a residence permit.

Attempting to buy a bike turns into a fiasco, as the miserable, sour-faced prick of a shop owner refuses to adjust the rear brake and gears on a second-hand bike that I take for a test-drive. He informs me that the bike is perfectly good as it is and disputes that there is anything wrong with the gears. I suggest that he just examine the bike to make sure, whereupon he informs me that he doesn’t care to and sets the bike aside, before giving me the thousand yard stare. I ask him if he’s actually interested in selling the bike and he responds in the negative, so I walk out of the shop in disgust.

I’d forgotten how tragically poor Dutch service can be. I mean, this prick is so apathetic, that it doesn’t even disturb him to have lost the sale. He’d rather not sell it than go to the slightest trouble for a genuinely interested customer. The bike’s frame was the right size, too, so I really would have bought it from him. Ah yes, the entrepreneurial spirit is dead and buried in The Netherlands!

19th August

Joost and Helma pick us up in their boat near the Europarking car park and we head to the river IJ for SAIL 2005. We meet some of their friends and do our first socialising in Amsterdam. It feels good to have a normal experience and what could be more Amsterdams than taking to the city’s many waterways and greeting the tall ships as they fare in.

Eloïse gets fussy after just a couple of hours, so we have to leave the others. Joost sets us off by the Haarlemmerdijk and we scale the canal wall to street level.

For the rest of the afternoon, we go baby shopping in the Bosboom Toussaintstraat and the Genestetstraat. We come away with a bouncy chair and a bath tub.

18th August

We went down to the Pijp neighbourhood today to have breakfast at Bagels & Beans, an old haunt. There are now several of these trendy bagel places all over town, but this was the first.

We then went to Baby Anco and bought a plastic insert for the bath tub we bought yesterday, so that Eloïse can sit upright and we no longer have to always keep a hand in contact with her to keep her from sliding under the water. It’s strange that baby bath tubs here contain no contouring to keep the baby in place, but there you go; it’s another of those little things that you notice when you travel between western countries.

Baby Anco was the shop from where we ordered our Bugaboo Cameleon all those months ago, when we had it shipped to California. I was surprised to discover that the staff still knew my name.

Then, it was over to the UPC shop to sign up for cable television, before we get cut off. I thought the price to be reconnected would be worth avoiding, but it turns out that we have to pay €35 in connection costs even if there’s nothing to connect, because nothing has been disconnected. Oh well.

At some point, we’ll go out and look for a digital television to replace the piece of shite we have now. Then we can subscribe to digital television and double the number of channels we receive for just €10 extra per month.

Finally, we ended up at the Fietsfabriek (translation: Bike Factory), where I went against my better judgement and bought a new bike (as opposed to a rickety old second-hand one) for use in the city. It was expensive, but it was so nice to take a test ride on, that I was sold. We also discussed options for transporting babies, so we now have a few ideas of what to do when it comes to transporting Eloïse across town. For that, we’ll most likely purchase a bakfiets, which is a bike with a large, low-lying trough between the tiny front wheel and the steering.

I still haven’t been down to the American Consulate to return my greencard.

Both Sarah and I are experiencing some degree of culture shock and difficulty in adjusting to our new surroundings. The crowded streets; the plumes of cigarette smoke every-fucking-where; the total lack of things, people and places familiar to us after the last few years together; the sheer knowledge that this is our life now, that we’re not going back and that we really do have to start from scratch again and build something out of nothing.

It’s not to be underestimated, although it does perhaps have to be experienced first-hand for one to have any idea what I’m talking about. I think things are probably exacerbated for me by the fact that I have lived here before. It

almost feels as if I’m nostalgically trying to recapture something that’s no longer here. That’s funny, because you’d think the aspect of familiarity would make it easier, but it doesn’t.

Maybe I’m just getting old and I’ve reached the point that I just don’t have the energy to build up a new life from scratch the way I have before. I suppose I thought that I would simply be resuming the life I had back at the turn of the millennium, but that’s not the case. Too much water has flowed under the bridge since then.

Returning here turns out not to be a hell of a lot different to moving here for the very first time, albeit that I still know how most things work and I can speak the language. In all other ways, the culture feels immediately unfamiliar and will require some time to become reaccustomed to.

On the other hand, the American culture felt quite strange in some ways the entire time I was there, yet comfortably familiar in other ways after a few years spent immersed in it.

I think we just need time. After all, it hasn’t even been a whole week yet. I shouldn’t try to walk before I can crawl.

19th August

The phone should have been connected today, but there’s a problem. An engineer called back in the afternoon to say it should be working now, but no such luck. It’ll be some time next week before someone can come out to look at it and hopefully fix it.

20th August

A letter from the KPN arrives, informing us that our ADSL order may take up to four weeks to deliver. It also informs us that we may be too far from the CO, anyway. What?!? We’re in the centre of the city.

Jo comes around in the morning with a T-shirt present for Eloïse. I seize the opportunity to bitch and moan about all that has gone wrong so far.

21st August

Jo has invited us over for lunch at her place. We walk across town to her house and take advantage of the ability to use her computer. I post a maudlin blog entry, triggering a telephone pep talk from the in-laws. In fact, I was glad to get it, as it was sorely needed at the time.

22nd August

I finally summon the courage to go down to the American Consulate and hand back my green card. Even getting into the building proves to require some determination.

Once inside, the Consul General herself comes out in person to inform me of the gravity of what I am doing. Wow, this is really it. If I do this, I have no right to live or work in the US any more, a country that was my home from home until just ten days ago.

I hadn’t expected it to be this hard, but I find myself experiencing real difficulty in cutting the ties. What if Sarah doesn’t like The Netherlands and wants to return home. All kinds of only half-rational nightmare scenarios flash through my mind and I find myself terrified at the prospect of being cut off from my wife and daughter.

Somewhere in my body, I find an optimistic bone and fill in the forms. My green card is confiscated and a rubber stamp is entered into my passport, indicating that form I-407 has been completed and handed in.

No more green card. I’m no longer a US permanent resident and have no rights to live or work there. My old life is now irretrievable without starting over again. Our new life here had better work out now; that’s all I can say.

While I’m busy at the Consulate, Sarah signs up for a Dutch course at the Volksuniversiteit. That’s the same place where I took many Dutch courses in the early nineties. If the quality hasn’t slipped, she’ll be gaining fluency in no time.

A KPN engineer calls to tell us he will come out in the morning to look at our phone problem.

23rd August

The KPN engineer arrives and fixes our phone issue. It turns out that the house’s exchange was no longer connected behind one of the wood panels near the door. I had no idea there was even anything behind them. Great! We now have a fixed phone.

By this point, I’m desperate for an Internet connection and to be able to print out some documents, so I decide to bike down to Google Benelux at the World Trade Centre. Once there, I introduce myself and explain that I’m on a sabbatical, but I need a place to sit and some connectivity. Everyone is very friendly and nice. Working here could be fun, if I were so inclined.

Getting back on-line is almost a rush. I take care of some paperwork for health insurance and the sale of stock. Because I’m no longer a US permanent resident, I can now claim dual tax status for this year. This means I can now sell my Google stock without incurring US capital gains tax.

Wishing to unburden myself of something that’s been on my mind for a year now, I call my broker and have him sell all of my stock. I no longer own a single share of GOOG. That’s something else I no longer have to think about.

24th August

It’s back to Google, because I didn’t get all of my paperwork finished yesterday.

25th August

Our ADSL kit arrives. Hurray! Hurray! We can live an almost normal life again.

We visit our first estate agent, recommended to us by a Dutch banker. He’s going to set up some house viewings for us next week.

26th August

Our first house viewings will be next Wednesday. That will be exciting.

We walk over to the buildings of the Volksuniversiteit, where we pay for Sarah’s upcoming Dutch course.

The Uitmarkt begins. This is a weekend of free concerts and other cultural events, put on by the various cultural establishments of Amsterdam in an effort to promote the appreciation of and participation in such endeavours. Friday night turns out to have little to offer us. Oh well; there are two more days to go. The events take place on the Museumplein, the Leidseplein and in the Vondelpark.

27th August

Sarah and I start the day by flooding our shower. After that, we head down to the Museumplein to catch a 30 minute concert by Wibi Soerjadi. Damn; that bloke can really get a tune out of a piano.

Afterwards, we get some passport photos made of Sarah’s fizzog, which we’ll need for all of her official paperwork, which we still haven’t submitted. We’ll be doing that next week.

Then, we meet up with friends Bonnie and Felix and spend the afternoon chatting away at an Irish pub on the Max Euweplein. Once again, this social occasion goes some way to making us feel at home here in a society that still feels very novel, for all of its pleasant familiarity. Amongst other things, we discuss the many changes in Dutch society over the last few years and contrast Dutch and American life.