Quarter of a Quarter

This is just a synopsis of what has happened in my life for the past three months that I’ve been back here in the Netherlands. To start with, I’d like to share how my head was a big mess. It was to the extent where I had to force myself in making an outline of what I want to write in the next few lines. I never did anything like that before.

14th of January 2010, in the middle of the winter, I arrived back in the Netherlands not as a tourist but as a prospective resident. Along with me is a passport stickered with a brand new visa called MVV (short for Machtiging tot Voorlopig Verblijf) or Provisional Residence Permit. How I was able to obtain this visa is a totally different story that I prefer not to elaborate on for two reasons. One: the steps and procedures are better explained in the immigration website of the Netherlands and two: tons of people have blogged about this before that I don’t anymore have the enthusiasm to reiterate them. Although, based on my experience, I could share one or two deviations from the normal paradigm.

A little walk down memory lane. As soon as I came back from a short three-month holiday of getting to know Manuel’s family and friends, the country and the Dutch culture, I vigorously started with the bigger-than-life migrating procedure. Immediately, I took the Dutch Civic Integration Exam or Inburgeringsexamen. Upon passing, I submitted all my papers to my boyfriend, who was already based here in the Netherlands, so he can forward both our documents to the authorities. After a staggering span of 7 days, we received the approval of the immigration office saying that I have a positive chance of acquiring the visa. This waiting period would normally take 3 weeks to a couple of months and to our surprise, ours took only 7 days (which we thought we owed to our “lovely photos” as a proof of relationship). A couple of weeks later, I already had my visa on hand and this happened before Christmas 2009 which was one of the best. We booked my ticket for January 14, 2010 for the reason that I would like to spend my father’s birthday at home still with my family. January 14 it was.

The first couple of weeks were again full of paperwork: my verblijfsvergunning (residence permit), verzekering (insurance) and inburgeringstraject (integration program). All of them were significant in keeping my feet on the ground (on the Dutch ground, to be exact). It was also full of excitement knowing that we were trying to fulfil a series of important events in our lives together as a Dutch-expat couple. I remember one of my best friends telling me that immigration processes are critical and will take a lot from both participants. But we never really felt too stressed aside from a couple of eyebrow-raising moments. And aside from me being so overly obsessive compulsive, I believe that Manuel’s chill and relaxed character pulled us through quite easily.

Soon enough, we got everything fixed. I have a one-year work and resident permit which would be automatically extended to a five-year one (I suppose, unless our relationship is over, or I go against common laws). My insurance is covered (and I can literally get sick). And I became a student of the city college to learn Dutch as a Second Language. Just like a puzzle, everything fitted perfectly.

We celebrated February 14 not because it’s Valentine’s Day but it was my first month as a resident. I received my Uittreksel uit de Gemeentelijke Basisadministratie- my personal records being a resident of Den Bosch city. It stated my personal information and social security number which is regarded as the number one form of identity here in the Netherlands.

While having the zeal and passion for learning the Dutch language, there was an intense vulnerability to spending. Then there was the thought of earning some Euros of my own. I had the opportunity to become a full fledged babysitter of the most adorable children in our neighbourhood. Just like a diabetic getting a boost of insulin, I was so happily surrounded with kids. It was harder than I thought but the experience was definitely rewarding. So my life during these weeks was like that of a 16-year-old: a little time for school, a little time for work and a little time for fun.

Mid of March, an email was sent to me coming from a head hunter. He said that looking at my online CV, he perceives me as a qualified candidate for a certain role at a multinational biotech company. I was invited for an interview. I was battling between the need to focus with my studies and the thrill of marketing myself for employment. But then I thought to myself, practice makes perfect. I could definitely use this chance to ‘perfect’ my interview skills and be more than prepared for when I need it. I went to the interview with an objective of still making a good impression while learning from the experience. The next thing I know, the company’s human resource agent was setting me up for another appointment. Like a puppy, I just followed the smell to where it leads me. The interview again went appealing to them and I was up for the next, and until then, the final round. The first two executives had to make me dig dipper into the technical and scientific parts of the interview process. But the last one and the so-called Big Boss or executive director engaged me into a more interesting social interview.

As I was walking past the reception area on the way out, my head hunter called me up requesting me to return to the office. The moment was a bit clear to me; it could be what I wanted to hear. I could smell the spring and feel the sunlight on my skin as it all happened when the head hunter told me that right at that last interview, I got hired. This wonderfully happened a few days after my 26th birthday, which was also one of the best. Now would only be a week away from my start date working again and earning what I could say is breakfast, lunch and dinner.

All of these took place within this year’s and my whole life’s quarter. And I could say life is getting better than ever.

The Sneaky Business of a Credit Card

I owned a credit card. One must know, it is the most dangerous possession a young starter like me could ever own. Unlike in the movie ‘Confessions of a Shopaholic’, I consider myself a very mild one. Yes, I can easily fall in love with unessential things you find in shops. I could fall for the leathery smell of a brand new pair of shoes, or the inviting texture of a silky dress. But see, I wouldn’t shop because I’m having some forms of emotional disturbances. And I certainly do not believe that shopping could make the world a better place.

But when I finally had a credit card, boy do I feel like a millionaire? In my hand lies a smooth, handy and shiny little thing that could make any salesperson say “Hello”, any counter say “Thank You” and any exit say “Till Next Time”. I have a rite of passage for every shop, restaurant, cafés and bars in town. Big or small. Never will I need to wait for the 15th, 30th, quarter, mid, and end of the year bonuses just to get that latest camera that I wanted. I was only a few swipes away from fulfilling most of my worldly cravings. In the first few months, there weren’t any problems. I was always on time for my due dates, even one or two weeks earlier. I wanted to show my bank how good of a client I was. Like a new found friend, I was eager to show that I am someone who deserves so much trust, in the form of available-to-spend balances. I bought the latest gadgets, signed myself up for post paid phone services, completed a series of books from my favorite authoress, and just swiped my card here and there. I did it as if there was no tomorrow, as if my credit card was my one and only hero.

The next thing I knew, I was getting close to my limit. I was aware of it but not careful enough to control my use of it. It even went over the limit. At the back of my head I was thinking; I have a job, I have an income, I can totally pay it. But then goes my monthly rent, my weekly groceries, my summer trips, and a lot more of my extracurricular activities that I just couldn’t give up. Each of them scratches off a significant part of my regular income. Soon I realized that I don’t have any room for my credit card payment anymore. A couple of months later, I failed to slip an envelope to that automatic paying machine. The bills that I received were higher and higher after every cut-off. Yet, even when I’m not swiping, it still goes up and above the credit limit. It reached a point where even a business idiotic like me got crazy about understanding the math behind credit card interests. Because believe me, Investopedia was right when he said that “You usually pay WAY MORE than you owe.”

I ended up calling my emergency numbers, swallowing my pride and wishing that my face and my butt aren’t the same thing. I never thought I’d be so stupid [sorry for the word] to let this thing happen to me. Aside from the most stupid thing [yes, everyone has several ones] that I’ve done, this, also has no valid excuse. And there is no valid excuse as well, for anyone to avoid the same incident. Therefore, I am signing off with a quote that I would like to remember for the rest of my life:

         "Nobody deserves a credit card. Nobody deserves the sneaky business of a credit card."

                                                                                                                                 - M. D.

Need Me Again

You knew me as a child. You and I created a special bond that you had always treasured. Back then, you would cry my name out for each wound you get running around. And your mother had always told you it would make you feel better. Every night, you came to me and said your little prayers. I’d always laughed about your prayers. They were full of questions about the simplest things in the world. You were such a wonderer. Then you kept on growing and expanding your thoughts. Your innocence slowly fading away. Prayers come in once in a while, but not as often as they were. Becoming older meant a lot to you. You felt strong enough to take care of your self. I do not hear my name anymore. For each question you had, you find answers from books you carried around. You have kind of forgotten me, but it was fine. I knew you were busy struggling. Time offered you more chances to learn. You went to this place you thought would teach you about the miracles I made. You learned to explain nature, history, and even knew how to question my existence. Something that I warned myself about long ago. You discovered the mystery of love, in many different aspects. You hated it when people leaves you and you had no choice but accept. Deep inside I know you chose to forget me and maybe blamed me for your tears. But you never said that you needed me. In fact I thought, you wanted me out. Then you sensed that love is coming your way again. And this time you think you have never been this happy.

Your smile shines even more than the sun I bring out every morning. At the sound of the running waters, you make a laughter that fills the air. I hear your heart beat as fast as the lightning that comes before the rain. The rainbow is never enough to color your eyes or to paint your soul in its purest joy. You do not have questions anymore. Life is as transparent as it is. The past and the future seem very clear. But when will you need me again? That I do not know. Once and for all, I just want to tell you, that I need you to need me. Your life is never meaningful without questioning. And my purpose is never satisfied without responding. We are in this journey together. Truly, the one thing you will see from start to end is my undying faith for you. Because I know that whatever life brings you, you will return to that special bond we had. And there you are safe. There, nothing else matters.

Going Dutch

Okay. Since I am on a trip here in The Netherlands (a.k.a. Holland), I figured I should be sharing my thoughts and reactions on how Dutch people live and what their characters are like. If in any case, my opinions are too out there, bear in mind that I do not intend to offend any of my Dutch friends here, neither do I want to flatter any one of them. But by the way things are going, my future might take its place in here. So I would like to take a moment and reflect on my personal observations- highlighting on certain things that I ought to learn, to use and to love.

Now, what I would like to talk about are the following:


The Infamous Three Kisses

When you greet a Dutch friend or family, you give them three kisses. I’m not certain in which direction should one start to kiss but I often do it first on the right cheek. It goes automatically, actually. So maybe in five years, I would have kissed my new Dutch friends way more than my own parents. Do the math.

Awareness

This is the one word I would use to describe how they spend an entire day. First of all, every minute counts for a Dutch person. There’s only a tiny chance for someone to be late for work or for an appointment, must be due to a terrible weather and it’s just really hard to be on a bike. Speaking of the weather, they often know exactly what the temperature is, or would be, for the rest of the week. The weather in The Netherlands always changes, but still is quite predictable. It is always smart to arrange an appointment if you want to get together with someone. A regular weekday is mostly about working and making sure your bills are paid. But on weekends, they certainly know what it is to have fun and replenish- a crazy Saturday night and a restful Sunday evening.


Alcoholism


As much as I like to become more sociable, I hate to order anything with alcohol. Although, it seems like it is a big deal here. Beers and wines are served in every corner, day and night. It is part of every social gathering or even just a simple dinner. To have a cold beer in your hand is like saying you are a Dutch man, and to swirl a glass of wine is like defining a Dutch woman. This is purely based on my standards though, because over and again, I hate alcohol.






Milk and Cheese, Bread and Potato

In contrast to my previous discussion, Dutch people are in one way very babyish when it comes to loving dairy products. I feel twenty years younger whenever I grab a bite of their cheese and my day wouldn’t be complete without a full cup of their milk. They are wonderfully processed which makes them taste delicate and fulfilling. Breads and potatoes represent our very own rice. I still haven’t got used to it but so far, I’m fine with it. There are several types of bread (written always in Dutch and I didn’t take time memorizing yet) but each slice is surprisingly heavy. Maybe it’s just me but just how much calories are in there?

The Subject of Money

The Netherlands is a rich country, alright, that is a given. And as far as I know, each citizen is quite secured and well-taken care of by their government and such. Money or career is not often a favorite subject because one knows the next day would be just as convenient as the other. HOWEVER, a Dutch person knows how to plan his/her spending. They are often mistaken as being too tight-fisted but the truth is, their future expenses have just been already outlined. Unnecessary shopping is not in their vocabulary. For them, spending too much money is to show-off, and they are not comfortable with that.

Liberal Minds

Nederlanders are always associated with liberal attitudes. Recently, they have become popular with laws tolerating homosexuality, euthanasia, drugs and prostitution. My stay here in Den Bosch have kept me off these kinds of encounters. But based on my interactions ranging from my boyfriend’s family to friends to acquaintances and down to his neighbors, they all tell me that they are only being practical. Drugs are accessible but the legality of its use doesn’t make it any more appealing. Supporting homosexuality only means a person is free to love any one he/she chooses to, regardless of gender.

Cycling Mania

Because of how small the country is, the places seem very close to each other, ergo, the use of bicycles. The roads are constructed widely to give a special place for those who cycle. Statistics say that there are even more bicycles than citizens. Some old, junky ones are just waiting for their rusty death. It’s funny that until now, I am still unsure of my cycling abilities. Every time I cycle around, I feel like people are giving me the do-you-know-what-you’re-doing kind of look.

 
The Need to be Independent

It has amazed me several times how Dutch people show independence. Going Dutch means not expecting anyone to cover for you on a social activity or gathering that requires paying, except on a one-on-one date where the gents usually pay for the ladies. When shopping, one always packs his/her own purchases. This is very much the opposite of what happens in the Philippines where aside from a cashier, we do have a bagger. The old ones are occasionally living their prime at a later age, still cycling around and helping their own selves. Children who reach the let-me-move-out phases of their lives, are very happy not to rely on their parents' blessings any longer.

Relationships and Social Standards

As a consequence of being socially tolerant, liberated and highly open-minded, Dutch people do not succumb to the whole idea of marriage. Many young couples move in together after 3-4-5 years of their relationships or as soon as they are financially prepared to. This is very common to western people, I guess, much like in America. There isn’t discrimination on who holds a better title. Whether you are a married, a registered or a live-in couple, you both deserve all the respect in the world. And no one can say that you are violating certain rules.

Minimalism

I find Dutch style very minimal and yet pleasing to the eye. White is the usual interior color of the houses and everything else is highly organized. They do not like clutter. They believe in the saying that ‘Simplicity is Beauty’. When things are too complicated to handle, they essentially do things one step after another. No need for multi-tasking (e.g. Manuel).

 
Well, there you go. I hope to give justice to the Dutch community and let alone, my very own Dutch man (who will read this in a while and will probably hate me).



Groetjes,


G

When Summer Left Me

for my sweetie

My hands feel cold now as the summer breeze quickly passes by leaving only marks of dull shadows. I’m afraid I may not end this piece with the thoughts of sitting outside, but then I love the fresh smell of the weather, something in between deceitfulness and chivalry. Well I never considered writing my heart out upon deciding to keep certain things to myself. I was quite sure that my translucent personality would give justice to my entire character: an ever mischievous yet tolerable woman, or vice versa, as one may prefer.

But I am twenty-five. Who knows, it can be near the end, the half or (hopefully) the quarter of my whole life. It seems promising to be able to express my mind into something tangible. Yet of course, words are as cold as this fleeting summer breeze. In words, I am often vain and mostly reluctant. Should I continue, I think I have seen quite several wonders. Some of it, one can really set his feet on, and some even farther than any one’s imagination. I often say that when I reach twenty-five I’ll probably be married and contented on a single career that would last until my retirement. Little do I know that it could be a twisted reality as I stand now above some foreign grounds; innocent, peculiar and untouchable.

A year and a half ago, I sat beside a pointed-nose man who saw me as a potential anxiety. He was too busy minding his own business, mending his broken heart and all his travelling-alone blues. Meanwhile, I was occupied thinking, how can I survive a 13-hour trip with a stranger, much more, a foreigner? So I gathered all my courage (and English back-ups) to ask the simplest question I had in mind: ‘From what country are you?’ And out of all the places in the world, how could a stranger next to me happen to be from a country that I only know one thing about: Tulips. It was crazy how I dealt with the rest of the trip trying to dig the innermost corner of my brain just so I can talk more about his country, and to keep his eyes on me. Because I know, and only me knows, I liked him. And to my surprise, keeping it up never really was the whole point. We we’re getting along well. Far from well.

For a couple of times, I was dazed with the idea that I had the best definition of falling in love and staying in love. However, just like this summer which quickly departs, I think that each good memory is meant to last so we can welcome a brand new season and appreciate its true beauty. So please let me say goodbye to this summer, as I bid farewell to the past. And allow me to welcome autumn, as I welcome my new season and my forever love.