We sort. We tidy up. And we reorganize the to-do lists in our heads every single day.
And as we do that, we realize that soon we’ll have to get by without a number of really great, handy, and beautiful Dutch things. Here’s a list.
- Hema. To be honest, I’m not really sure what I’d do without it. Even when I don’t need anything—I walk in, spin around once, and spot a fantastically handy little gadget for next to nothing. Treats for kids’ birthday parties—I’ll probably stock up on those in advance, because they’re sure to make German moms terribly jealous. Craft kits for rings or bracelets, booklets, little gifts, things you never knew would come in handy—and all for next to nothing. So much style and design for so little money; there’s no German equivalent for that.
- Our neighbors. They have four kids and are always smiling. And I really mean that: always! I don’t know how they manage to lead such a relaxed life, but I can run over there anytime and even saddle them with an extra kid when I’m in a pinch. No problem at all. Do neighbors like that even exist in Berlin? I sure hope so.
- On that same note: our street. There are 27 kids living here. Of all ages. They’re always running around in a jumble right outside our door. They borrow each other’s tractors, go-karts, and bikes. And they knock on every mailbox to ask for candy or to admire each other’s train or doll collections. All the kids are welcome at everyone’s house. That means it can get pretty chaotic in the living room every now and then with about five boys running around. But kids love playing with other kids—and that works out almost perfectly here. Lawns right outside the door, playgrounds around the corner, and few cars that could be dangerous. Food and drinks everywhere. And then coming home hours later, all dirty. Paradise. Actually.
- Dutch nonchalance. German parents are strict. German parents are organized. Precise. Punctual. German parents wear practical clothing and bike helmets. German kids also wear bike helmets. And preferably other protective gear too; every protruding bone is covered with a hard piece of plastic so that the skin and tissue underneath remain protected. So German parents are extremely cautious. And that’s annoying. I think.
- My coworkers. If we weren’t moving to Berlin, I wouldn’t have quit my job at RTV Utrecht anytime soon. You’re allowed to do anything there: come up with new ideas, put them into action. Make TV and radio—and do it all with the nicest people around. It’s one big high school class. We tease each other, argue, spar over ideas, and when things get heated, we’re understanding of one another. Besides my own family, this is a great second comfort zone. One I’m now leaving for the time being. And trading in for cutthroat freelance competition.
- Our friends. Although we’ve already agreed with them that they should come visit us as often as possible. So from now on, we can enjoy their company all weekend long. And show them the city we love so much.
No doubt the list will be even longer in a month. To be continued.
Let’s just say we’re getting a lot in return.
