What You Bring and What You Blend

I’ve gone 100% Dutch, and I still can’t cycle, no hands. I’m ready for a blend.

My brother was over recently, unapologetically British. Ordering ‘anything that’ll go in a pint glass’ or just ‘a big one’ once he’d built up the rapport. This is funny because we Brits are the worst abroad, he says so himself. He said of the airport that everyone who looked unhealthy or was moaning was British. Probably made sense given it was an airport in England. But where would I be now if I’d spent the last two years asking for ‘a big one, please’. We’ve had to integrate, and that is good. Eventually enrichment, if at first friction. But I think I’m ready to let a bit of my own culture seep in a bit- find more balance in these cultures, and hopefully one that I can bring back with me to England so I don’t regress into an unhealthy moaner at the airport.

This is probably one for the Third Years. But also everyone who has ever moved countries to live, be it to the Netherlands or out of the Netherlands on exchange, which, actually, is most of us.

In the first-ever week here, before the semester started, I had jungle on, playing from speakers on my crate. Jungle is a music genre born in the UK; my crate is my coffee table, my vision of student living, my centrepiece. It was summer, it was cool, I was still British. Yet to discover what exactly British is by leaving Britain and seeing what doesn’t follow me. Cheddar, Shreddies, and Cadbury’s, mostly.

But the holes can also be felt in the medium of bread. Bagels are not to be seen in Lidl. English (that should’ve been obvious) muffins? Don’t exist. Crumpets. Crumpets are a gorgeous, chewy, buttery thing yet to be discovered outside UK borders. These ones don’t have English in the name so I wasn’t to know that they were just that. Except maybe for the decidedly British phonetics. ‘Crumpet’ in an American accent confirms from whence they are NOT originated.

I spent a lot of time on the phone to friends saying “and you won’t believe they don’t have…” in First Year. And then I discovered Albert Heijn and by proxy how ill-stocked Lidl was. The friends didn’t need to know that. From thence, gave self permission for bits and bobs at AH. Becoming more comfortable in these clean and lit and orange Bonus icon-pasted aisles, I imagined I’d make my way through all the pastries, for a proper education into Dutch delicacy. And then money felt too tight and I realised that, despite the promise of ‘taart’ they’re 80:20 likely a cake-shaped sweet fake cream that disappears into air quicker than the bonus savings you anticipated at checkout. More recently I had to stop eating gluten so that ended the ambition if the ‘cream’ hadn’t already.

When it came to TV, it was just whatever the people round a table at Netflix decided the Dutch deserved. In holidays at home, I force myself to get at least one episode of every favourite British TV show in because you can’t watch them 97% of the year. I’d see someone on BeReal casually watching in their grotty kitchen at some UK uni and feel straight jealousy. Contempt at their casualness.

No one back home really appreciates the absence of these things. And neither did you, until you lived elsewhere.

And so I’ve gone into the deep end of the Netherlands. Living as they do, just minus some probably quite fundamental socialisation and secret knowledge, like going to the bakery for your bread. (Still gluten-intolerant.) And for this, we can be proud. We didn’t dilute it. Only sprinkled it with whatever we could fit in our suitcase. Wax strips, sometimes. Toiletries are out of budget here.

I was immersed, but it didn’t necessarily feel full. The brain probably condensed culture down, just as we need stereotypes, into the word ‘leuk’, the colour orange, a pink croissant, a bitterbal and a smallish glass of beer.

I wonder, can a culture feel rich enough when it wasn’t the one you grew up in? Can things feel woven and layered? It’s not that Dutch culture isn’t, it just isn’t for me because I was plucked and plopped down in it (by no one but myself) from the age of 18 to 21. Can you inherit all of these things then… Or is your culture being textured and old about growing those things yourself with it? Such that you have witnessed its evolution- been a protagonist and agent in it even- while it witnessed yours. Maybe age 18 to 21 is too short for that. Or too late. Or is it both? Or it is neither and some are able to both inherit and then absorb into a secondary culture without feeling lack and absence.

Now, it is the start of the end. I relied on compartmentalisation in the beginning, helpful to have these places so separate. But now that I’m looking ahead to being back in England full-time, where I’m no longer in culture limbo and these things that have been precious commodities, smuggled in my cabin bag will be readily available all the time… I think my brain can compute them both now, inter-mingle them. They’re not concessions but celebrations: nothing to prove now. Teabags meant-for-a-teapot in a single mug so it’s strong enough. British subgenres of music out the speakers. BBC iPlayer with Gavin and Stacey on- it’s okay. Not a cop-out. It’s more than okay, it’s the best of both worlds, which is all I really knew of Hannah Montana. Not British enough.

Joking.

Lea, Lebanon:

Brings back: things for the tastebuds. She brings back her hair products- not even Lebanese- but because she trusts them, Zaartar (dried thyme and sesame), Kebbe, Warak aarish (frozen dishes), Bzourat (nut mix), stain-removing soap.

Notices the absence of: warmth and sharing- collaborative and social, of being together by doing nothing together.

When at home always makes sure to: her bucket list is the people, and a specific restaurant

Kia, Finland:

Brings back: not-sad proper rustic rye bread to fill the void that cheese toasties don’t.

Notices the absence of: all the lit-up walking paths which mean you can walk in the park late on your own

When at home always makes sure to: go to an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet while it’s still affordable

Chan Woo, South Korea:

Brings back: kimchi

Notices the absence of: Korean Chinese food takeaway and kimchi

When at home always makes sure to: enjoy his grandmother’s side dishes including kimchi

Vlad, Romania:

Brings back: not essentials but sentimentals- cheese and chocolate bars called Dots, always presents from his dad and presents he gave to his mum

Notices the absence of: airwaves and orbit gum, and a Serbian kind of bread somewhere between the loaves of bread here and greek pittas

When at home always makes sure to: go on a walk through the centre because he always notices something new or a new shop has opened before going to the cinema there or his favourite book shop

Jorge, Mexico:

Brings back: chocolate, chillies, candy, mole (traditional dish)

Notices the absence of: SPICY stuff. Specific Mexican ingredients like corn tortillas, cajeta (caramel), traditional hot chocolate, nopales. Nice snacks in general- he misses his spicy crisps. High quality bakery goods like pan dulce. Street food isn’t a thing

When at home always makes sure to: eat tacos, eat quesadillas, eat chilaquiles, eat his mom’s food. Be in the sun. Be outside, doing nothing in it. Walk around a plaza, talk on a terrace, drink on a rooftop. Swim in a warm ocean. Slow rhythm and chill vibes

Pola, Poland:

Brings back: cosmetics! The products she’s been using for so long

Notices the absence of: the ingredients she’s used to in Poland- none of the grains for soups. Pickles here are sweet so can’t be used for a sour pickle soup

When at home always makes sure to: notice the people around Warsaw, young and old, and hear the language around her- nothing compares to the place you grew up. Familiarity

June, Belgium:

Notices the absence of: informality. Water for free at restaurants always. Shops where you can hang out without pressure to buy- like vinyl shops just to enjoy the music, or cafes just to enjoy the band

When at home makes sure to: enjoy being a human in a city and still finding things to enjoy without money- street performances, street sellers. Someone selling bracelets in the stairwell of the metro, she comes back to with a smile

Gabriel, Reunion Island:

Brings back: a little more motivation for studying- home gives time to prepare for the routine. An appreciation for Amsterdam as a city, somewhere you can both work and have fun with friends. And a tan

Notices the absence of: taking your foot of the accelerator. Locals and by virtue of a culture osmosis, internationals, are hardworkers- even the drink on the terrace doesn’t feel completely separate from the grind. And good weather, which near enough says you may as well keep working

When at home makes sure to: enjoy the space he’s in while not dictated by schedules and timetables. Be bored, be creative, be present. Feel the lack of responsibility. Try new things- while there is not timetable to have to slot things into

Bas, Costa Rica (but a third culture kid):

Brings back: nothing he loves and misses- the views, the vibe, sun, weather, beaches, people. Rather he brings things from the Netherlands back to family in Costa Rica

Notices the absence of: positivity and love of life

When at home makes sure to: enjoy the weather, his family, free time, sports, swimming

If not absence, the little biscuit with your coffee is one thing I notice the presence of without fail.