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De pittige Nederlandse titel komt hier.
Dec. 17th, 2025 10:20 pmI forgot to mention, we saw a motorcyclist get hit by a car, about three months ago. We were bicycling on Amsterdamsweg, where Amsterdam ends and Amstelveen begins, and a large suburban vehicle clipped a motorcyclist. He flew over the handlebars, and landed in the street.
I called the emergency number (112), while husband and other folks blocked cars, and tended to the bleeding accident victim. The emergency operator spoke pretty good English (thank goodness) but I still spoke the house number in my shaky Dutch. I think it was 527:
"Vijf honderd zevenentwintig."
In English, we recite numerals from most- to least-significant: "Five hundred twenty-seven". But not here! The correct order has a more literal translation like: "Five hundred seven and twenty".
When the operator asked about the man's condition, I passed the phone to a fluent Dutch speaker, who had been talking to the victim.
When you call emergency services, you have to tell them what type of vehicle you need. Since the victim was conscious, the ambulence I requested arrived slowly, without flashing its lights. :(
Afterwards, everyone dispersed. The guy I passed the phone to said something encouraging, with a smile, but I couldn't understand it. Then he mounted his own bike, and he was off. The whole thing ended about as quickly as it began.
Before that day, I was puzzled how everyone safely shares the road: cars, motorcycles, scooters, bikes, e-Bikes, "fat bikes" (low-rider e-Bikes with huge tires, usually with a jackass teenager in the seat). The answer is, they don't! Accidents happen all the time.
[[ Insert picture of a paper certificate, which proves I speak Dutch at the A1 level! ]] Oh, cool! Wow. Very wow.
My mastery of the language is intermittent at best. Yesterday I wished Happy Holidays to the mailman, then a few hours later I couldn't regurgitate the same phrase for a salesman at a store; I just fully seized up and blanked. Today I tried saying it to the drycleaner, and he corrected my pronunciation, and I smiled and imagined how nice it would be to disintegrate and pass through the floor, never to be seen again :)
"Fijne feestdagen". The last n is silent.
The accelerated Dutch language class was too fast. We crammed past-tense into the last day, so theoretically I can talk about what I ate for dinner: Ik heb voor avondeten naar thuis bloemkoel gegeten. That's the clunky syntax, there's a shorter version but I haven't learned it yet.
Anyway ... I've been equating my self-worth to my ability to speak the language, and that's psychotic, I should really stop doing that. My husband posed a good question: if I'm generally misable here, why do I care so much about learning the language?? My answer is that I'm not completely misable; being an adult means you can hold contradicting emotions in the same moment. So our existence here can be charmed and beautiful, and yet simultaneously irritating and soul-crushing. All the time. Constantly.
First appointment with the Physiotherapist was on Friday. I like her, and I look forward to doing more work with her. She asked me to research chronic stress on my own, and reminded me that scheduling chats with potential clients might not be the best tactic yet, because: people can sense when your enthusiasm isn't genuine.
Also on Friday, we had a date night! We rode our bicycles to Bar Dixie, ate decent food, then rode around in the dark for a while. This was beautiful, and it felt safe because all the roads and bike routes are well-illuminated, we had no issues seeing the road. Honestly it felt much safer than driving at night, squinting my ancient eyeballs at oncoming headlights. Bicycling at night: A+++, will do again.
Saturday was a long ride to Amsterdam. I picked up medication at my pharmacy, then we randomly had lunch at a place called Oma Ietje. This was a great experience. I forgive them for serving the burger on crusty bread; I'm craving more burgers like this now. The fries were incredible, hot and crispy. Their vegan mayo is better than any dairy version.
We didn't realize, Oma Ietje is located in a part of town with mostly government-subsidized housing (in America, this would be called "the projects") but it felt completely safe. The presence of Oma Ietje might indicate that the neighborhood is gentrifying, hmmm.
Sunday was light rest and recovery.
Monday was the final language class, and a 5-mile ride in the afternoon, just for funzies.
Yesterday was a long ride to Alsmeer, to revisit Gideon Italiaander. It took some digging, but I found a tube of buttons for the coat I'm making. Also I found a boring shirt made of excellent fabric, which will be upcycled into a hat soon-ish. We bought other random stuff, paid a mere €7.50 for everything, and I couldn't remember the words "Fijne feestdagen".
Today is heavy rest and recovery. I overdid it, I are bad mood now.
I called the emergency number (112), while husband and other folks blocked cars, and tended to the bleeding accident victim. The emergency operator spoke pretty good English (thank goodness) but I still spoke the house number in my shaky Dutch. I think it was 527:
"Vijf honderd zevenentwintig."
In English, we recite numerals from most- to least-significant: "Five hundred twenty-seven". But not here! The correct order has a more literal translation like: "Five hundred seven and twenty".
When the operator asked about the man's condition, I passed the phone to a fluent Dutch speaker, who had been talking to the victim.
When you call emergency services, you have to tell them what type of vehicle you need. Since the victim was conscious, the ambulence I requested arrived slowly, without flashing its lights. :(
Afterwards, everyone dispersed. The guy I passed the phone to said something encouraging, with a smile, but I couldn't understand it. Then he mounted his own bike, and he was off. The whole thing ended about as quickly as it began.
Before that day, I was puzzled how everyone safely shares the road: cars, motorcycles, scooters, bikes, e-Bikes, "fat bikes" (low-rider e-Bikes with huge tires, usually with a jackass teenager in the seat). The answer is, they don't! Accidents happen all the time.
[[ Insert picture of a paper certificate, which proves I speak Dutch at the A1 level! ]] Oh, cool! Wow. Very wow.
My mastery of the language is intermittent at best. Yesterday I wished Happy Holidays to the mailman, then a few hours later I couldn't regurgitate the same phrase for a salesman at a store; I just fully seized up and blanked. Today I tried saying it to the drycleaner, and he corrected my pronunciation, and I smiled and imagined how nice it would be to disintegrate and pass through the floor, never to be seen again :)
"Fijne feestdagen". The last n is silent.
The accelerated Dutch language class was too fast. We crammed past-tense into the last day, so theoretically I can talk about what I ate for dinner: Ik heb voor avondeten naar thuis bloemkoel gegeten. That's the clunky syntax, there's a shorter version but I haven't learned it yet.
Anyway ... I've been equating my self-worth to my ability to speak the language, and that's psychotic, I should really stop doing that. My husband posed a good question: if I'm generally misable here, why do I care so much about learning the language?? My answer is that I'm not completely misable; being an adult means you can hold contradicting emotions in the same moment. So our existence here can be charmed and beautiful, and yet simultaneously irritating and soul-crushing. All the time. Constantly.
First appointment with the Physiotherapist was on Friday. I like her, and I look forward to doing more work with her. She asked me to research chronic stress on my own, and reminded me that scheduling chats with potential clients might not be the best tactic yet, because: people can sense when your enthusiasm isn't genuine.
Also on Friday, we had a date night! We rode our bicycles to Bar Dixie, ate decent food, then rode around in the dark for a while. This was beautiful, and it felt safe because all the roads and bike routes are well-illuminated, we had no issues seeing the road. Honestly it felt much safer than driving at night, squinting my ancient eyeballs at oncoming headlights. Bicycling at night: A+++, will do again.
Saturday was a long ride to Amsterdam. I picked up medication at my pharmacy, then we randomly had lunch at a place called Oma Ietje. This was a great experience. I forgive them for serving the burger on crusty bread; I'm craving more burgers like this now. The fries were incredible, hot and crispy. Their vegan mayo is better than any dairy version.
We didn't realize, Oma Ietje is located in a part of town with mostly government-subsidized housing (in America, this would be called "the projects") but it felt completely safe. The presence of Oma Ietje might indicate that the neighborhood is gentrifying, hmmm.
Sunday was light rest and recovery.
Monday was the final language class, and a 5-mile ride in the afternoon, just for funzies.
Yesterday was a long ride to Alsmeer, to revisit Gideon Italiaander. It took some digging, but I found a tube of buttons for the coat I'm making. Also I found a boring shirt made of excellent fabric, which will be upcycled into a hat soon-ish. We bought other random stuff, paid a mere €7.50 for everything, and I couldn't remember the words "Fijne feestdagen".
Today is heavy rest and recovery. I overdid it, I are bad mood now.
