Lessons Learned Living Abroad

We all knew this day would come. While two and a half years have come and gone, it still hasn't fully sunk-in that our time in the Netherlands has come to an end and that we're returning to the States.  While we are sad to leave this wonderful utopia behind, I remind myself that this is not the end but rather just the closing of a chapter. Like those that preceded it, I am grateful for the experiences, lessons, and people that have filled these pages in our lives.

 Needless to say, it's bittersweet. We're happy to return to friends and family but will miss the Dutch (and ex-pat) friends that have become our family and the European way of life we've embraced over the past 29 months. As is always the case, we finally managed to become more "Dutch" just as we pack up to leave. Our time abroad has opened us up to many new perspectives and Dutch ways-of-life that we hope remain with us for years to come. 

All about Balance

 We've embraced the Dutch work/life balance enough to notice that even a small amount of time away from work (like really disconnecting - no laptop or email) allows you to reset. The Dutch are some of the hardest and most efficient workers I've ever met, but when they take vacation, they mean it: no work calls, no emails, nothing. It took a solid year or so but we finally started to act Dutch in our use of vacation days. This summer alone, we managed to fit in Mallorca, Rome and the South of France. When we lived in the US, the last time we took a full week off was for our honeymoon in Hawaii almost SEVEN years ago. I look back and scold my newlywed self for not at least pushing for a two week stay.

Lesson Learned: We'd be more productive if we vacationed a bit more like the Dutch. That and drinking copious amounts of (small) coffee doesn't hurt! (comment from Ben re: vacation: correlation does not equal causation).

Get Back to Basics

We've grown accustomed to our 1 full bath, 1,600 sq. ft Dutch "Mansion" (that is actually what Utrechters call it). You don't need a 5,000 sq. ft McMansion for a comfortable life, just a good layout and a garden to grab some rays on sunny days. Not to mention, more room just means more stuff. As we are in the thick of moving, I am reminded of all the impulse buys and unnecessary items (comment from Ben: it's true, Amy buys tons of stuff). Somehow we've managed to triple the amount of stuff we came with - I'll blame Brooke. 

Lesson Learned: It may be cliché but extra space or stuff doesn't make you happy. I know Ben is going to be quoting these words next time I come home from Target. :P Minimalism isn't just practical or trendy, it makes sense. Surround yourself with what matters to you - whomever and whatever that may be!

  

Be Direct

As someone who is relatively reserved and shy (at times), I initially found the Dutch directness to be a bit shocking especially coming from corporate America. My Dutch team reminded me of this on my last day in the office. But in fact, it's just being real - saying what you think, and not worrying about norms, hierarchies, or anything else holding you back. In a society that isn't litigious like the US and is among the "flatest" in the world with regards to professional relationships - there isn't the fear of being sued for not being PC, or reprisals from your boss.  Unlike the Americans or Brits, the Dutch just cut to the chase.  I continue to take mental notes as my boss or other colleagues just get to the point, "What is this really going to cost me?" "What is your aim?" As uncomfortable as it may be, it benefits everyone in the end. It's still one area I am trying to work on. 

Lesson learned: Say what you think. Just try it -  it's oddly refreshing.

Nothing is permanent

I often forget that the good and the bad is temporary. Every passing year, every extra birthday candle or gray hair,  I can't help but keep this in mind. Whether it is the sleepless nights of newborn (now toddler) or stressful chaos of moving all your belongings across the Atlantic.  I try to step back and take a deep breath. Being an expat abroad makes you focus on living in the moment. Knowing that this experience is temporary, I can say we did everything we could (given the circumstances of having a second kiddo in the process) to embrace our new home and take advantage of living in close proximity to many wonderful destinations.  

Lesson Learned:  Make the most of everyday, regardless of being an expat or not.


Life is about choices

At our wedding, my father shared a few wise words during his toast, "Life is about choices, remember to choose well."  It was especially relevant in the choosing of a life partner and now as an expat. The choices and chances we take can lead us down incredible paths. The decision to move abroad wasn't simple or easy (as I am now reminded as we embark on our 9 hour flight across the pond with two kids) but it was indeed worth it. Because of it, the Netherlands, Dutch culture and its people have left an indelible mark on our hearts.

Lesson Learned: Take a chance. Embrace the change. Jump in head first. You may not know it yet but you'll be glad you did.

Sounds like an American

I never much noticed my own accent until living abroad. Having grown up in the Midwest, I always felt lucky to have a "neutral" accent. From Minneapolis to Boston, Dallas to Nashville, my accent has evolved a bit after each city. My old roommate in Minneapolis would giggle every time the Minnesota "oh" would come out (Minne-sOH-ta) after I had wine. I can still pull out "ya'll" complete with a little Southern drawl from our time in Texas. My Chicago "a" will never disappear, just ask me to say "bag". Thankfully - and no offense to our Beantown friends - but I never adopted the Boston "r" - or lack thereof - as in "pahk the cah". If you need a good reminder of a classic Boston accent, just watch Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting.

Our oldest daughter has a hybrid Dutch, American and British accent. We can't help but laugh when she mixes British terms or Dutch with her English. "Mom, I need a plaster (band-aid)." "Are we going to the seaside?"  "Mag ik fruit?" (May I have fruit?). This is largely due to watching Cbeebies on the BBC, Peppa the Pig and Dutch cartoons. We've reached an age where  she can differentiate between English (Engles) and Dutch (Nederlands). When we ask her to sing a song for us, she'll often respond "I can't sing for you because I don’t know it in English." She sneezed the other day and I responded with "Bless you" to which she responded "No, it's gesundheit". I live with a constant reminder that my Dutch is sub-par. Ben and I are convinced that both kids will be conspiring against us in Dutch in a matter of months as our language skills are evolving at a comparatively glacial pace. 

Since moving abroad, I have become more aware and at times self-conscious of my accent. We're constantly asked if we're German based on our last name, and when we travel some think we're Dutch - though we're not nearly tall enough. But uttering a single word makes it obvious that we are American, and in the age of Donald Trump, that's not always welcome news. I can't help but notice the more negative reactions and associations it has nowadays. In a recent work call, I received (to my surprise) a disgusted response once I started speaking. "Oh you're American. I thought this was a Dutch company, is that not the case?" "Is this an American product?" she inquired.  At a recent European Cancer Advocacy conference in Budapest, I sat among 70+ people, all of whom were European, as the token American. "How does an American find herself here, working for a Dutch company?"

Don't get me wrong, I am proud to be an American. But that pride continues to be tarnished by the recent violence and toxic rhetoric that plagues the United States. The all too familiar sound of CNN's "Breaking News" makes us cringe as we've come to expect the report of another mass shooting taking place somewhere back home. When deciding to move abroad as a family in 2017, we discussed the terror incidents that rocked the cities of Paris, Berlin and Nice.  It never occurred to us that the risk of terror in the U.S. would far outpace Europe a mere 2-years later.

 

As a mom, you never stop worrying. But instead of bruised knees, I worry about what awaits us when we eventually return home. Will we be able to take our kids to public events? How am I going to explain this environment to them when they've only known the relative Utopia that is Utrecht?  I think about Nashville, a city experiencing tremendous growth thanks in part to its popular downtown scene. Will we ever feel comfortable going out on Broadway knowing the risks associated with such popular destinations? 

I recently came across a quote that reminded me that I have to take my anger, frustration and actually do something.

"The pessimist complains about the wind, the optimist expects it to change, the realist adjusts the sails." - William A Ward

Until now, I have been sitting back hoping, praying, wishing that change would happen. While we may be living across the pond, I remind myself that we're not helpless or hopeless. We can still exercise our right to hold our congress and representatives accountable, which is exactly what I plan to do (and if they think they can ignore us because we're 4,000 miles away....well, we'll be home soon enough). So here's to change, and to pushing beyond our comfort zone. Here's to opening ourselves to new experiences, languages, and even laws, recognizing that we can learn from other cultures - some of whom seem to have these things figured out a little better than we do. Now, if you excuse me, I need to go practice my Dutch. Tot zo!

The Glitz and Glamour of Southern France with Kids

At this stage of parenthood, I am inclined to stick my head in the sand and wait until the kids are a little older before trying to attempt a "vacation". In reality, there will never be a perfect time. Traveling with two kids is hard no matter what stage. While many of us (cough, cough, my husband) like to share the highlight reel of our trips on social media, I'd rather capture the behind the scenes bloopers that encompass the reality of traveling with tots. One of my best friends recently said that there needs to be a new word for "vacation" when you have kids. I couldn't agree more.

At three months postpartum, we ventured out of the house to Germany's Rhine Valley. Between breastfeeding and naps we were left with little time to see much of anything. We somehow managed to lose our stroller - but thankfully not the baby - after stopping at Christmas market in Dusseldorf (and by "we" I mean my husband). The upside is that I am now the proud owner of a fancy European stroller.  A day later, as Brie was in full meltdown after learning that "Elsa's Castle" (Elsa of Frozen fame), Ben managed to take off the side mirror and dented the car backing out of a parking garage. Are we having fun yet? Talk about a few extra expenses we didn't expect to incur.

Our spring break trip to Italy, by comparison, was far better. We crammed a lot of sightseeing, pizza and gelato into our four days in Rome and Florence. Brie now yells "pizza" and "isjie" whenever we say the word Italy.  We were spoiled with multiple date nights complete with a wine flight experience where we offended them after determining that we really aren't fans of the Chianti grape. Aside from a few tantrums about smoothies, a pee'd bed in the middle of the night, and being surrounded by just one too many Americans to get the authentic Italian experience, it really went off without a hitch.




 As glamorous as the South of France sounds, it is far less exotic with kids. The Provence region was BEAUTIFUL. The weather was a perfect 78 and sunny. We hit the VRBO jackpot with a gorgeous traditional Provencal rental that comfortably fit two families including four kids and our au pair.  Having two kids in your room with a 9 month old going through another dreaded sleep regression/growth spurt (do they always time these things during vacations?) left us with newborn deje 'vu. Our days of getting rowdy and staying up until the wee hours of the morning seem like a million years ago. Instead we were sipping our wine and falling sleep only an hour after the kids went down. Sad!

Our beautiful picturesque town of St. Remy was filled with quaint shops and restaurants. None of which we were able to frequent as we found that most of the restaurants don't serve dinner until 7pm. How the heck am I supposed to feed kids? Ordering pizza was our dinner option while grabbing a few crepes to tide us over for fear that "hangry" children would strike. Moreover, the town square was adorable with a farmer's market filled with savory cheeses, lush fruits and local spices. Of course what did the kids want to do? Carousel. Carousel. Carousel. I swear we spent $18 just trying to delay the inevitable meltdown that would follow upon leaving.

For the latter half of our trip we headed north towards Lyon. Upon our departure we made a side trip to the town of Avignon known for it's historic Palace of the Popes. As soon as we stepped foot in the city center, Brie was transfixed on the tiny train tour. We figured a quick, scenic tour of the city wouldn't be a bad way to start our day. Little did we know that as we wove through the cobblestone streets with Brooke sucking down her mid-morning bottle that a stomach bug was lurking. We were greeted with projectile vomit 3/4ths of the way through the tour. Ugh! Luckily, the seat in front was vacant, and the other passengers just looked on in horror. As I sat there half covered in formula vomit, I had to shrug it off. This couldn't be the first time this has happened here, right?

To add to the fun, we failed to realize that this was a holiday weekend and EVERYONE would be driving home on Sunday. What should have been a 3 hour drive to our next destination turned out to be a 5.5 hour ordeal with a sick baby to boot. After 2.5 hours in slow down, speed up and tail gate traffic (the French are not great drivers - it's no wonder there were multiple accidents) the kids were fidgety and fussy. I was crankiest of them all and demanded we get off at the next exit. As we drove through the back roads we happend upon a KFC with a kids outdoor playground (you know the ones we used to have at McDonalds back in the 1990's - jackpot!) I can't tell you the last time I was at KFC but I've never been happier to see one. Wait a minute, are we really dining at a KFC in France? Oh wait, yes and I guess we do whatever it takes for our kids like climb up the jungle gym to rescue them too.

As we settled into our hotel, I realized that would fall victim to Brooke's tummy bug. The following day, our au pair Kini faced a similar fate. Majority of us couldn't bear to move from our rooms. All except for Ben and Brie who thankfully came out unscathed.

Traveling is always an adventure and these stories just add to the memories. In the end, I have to remind myself that we get the opportunity to witness the world through the innocent eyes of our kiddos. Even without a common language, they communicate through sharing snacks, smiles and toys in the universal pastime of play. Watching Brie interact with children from all over the world with no concept of race, religion, or nationality. We are all more alike than we are different. Sometimes we need to look to our little ones for the important life lessons. Here's to acting more like kids.