I’ve been living in the Netherlands for five years now. Recently, I traded my studies in the north for a job in the west—a common occurrence for many Dutch graduates and a well-known phenomenon in Germany. But I’m a German living in the Netherlands.
Guest column for the Germany Institute by Ulrike Nagel
Speaking of “checkout counters”: why are there only students working at Dutch supermarket checkout counters, while in Germany they’re staffed by permanent employees? I still haven’t figured out how to make sense of the Dutch “part-time job phenomenon” myself. Where do the Dutch conjure up all those part-time jobs? As a student in Germany, it’s not that easy to find a part-time job, because those same positions are filled by permanent employees. And yet there’s still so much unemployment? I just don’t get it.
Recently, I’ve also started getting off at Amsterdam Central Station. And every now and then, I take the metro to visit a friend. Underground, I feel like I’m in a different country. Why are the subways in Amsterdam so terribly old and dirty? In my mind, these subways don’t fit at all with the neat, clean, structured Netherlands. The subways in Berlin are a warm yellow color, have nice, new seats, and run through clean stations. I hate it when Dutch people bring up comparisons like this, but when it comes to the subways, I can’t help myself.
I may be typing this on a computer, but every time I have to sign my name somewhere, a new question pops into my head. Often you have to write your name first and then sign your name next to it. I always find that really strange, because for me, those two things are basically the same. For a Dutch person, signing one’s name is quite different from writing it out. How is that possible? Dutch people apparently even “practice” their signatures.
I have plenty of other questions like that: Why do Dutch newspapers get thinner in the summer while German newspapers stay just as thick, even though both countries experience the “silly season”? Why is someone in Germany practically worthless if they haven’t at least earned their Abitur (and can you get by just fine in the Netherlands with a HAVO diploma)? Why does it now take five days to send a package or a letter to Germany, when it used to take just two days? Why does the Dutch cabinet literally disappear from the public eye for months during the summer vacation, while in Germany all politicians remain prominently featured in the press?
Questions upon questions. With no answers. We’ll have to look for them. But then this column would get too long. And don’t think I’m too lazy to look for all those answers to all those questions myself. I’m working hard on it. Not just on asking questions.
