Category: Life

“Sambal bij?” (or: walking around a foreign place with an asian face)

Utrecht is a vibrant student city, with international students from all around the world. But some students look a bit more foreign than others.

In regular day-to-day to life it doesn’t have too much of an impact. You’ll get questions like where are you from? (California) and what is your name? (Wesley) and follow-up questions like where are you really from? (California) and what is your real name? (Wesley). I’ll get asked if I’ve watched this film or that film, or if I’ll translate their name into Chinese. And then the conversation moves on. (And if it doesn’t, I can just walk away). It’s cool, whatever.

But if I’m at an FC Utrecht football match or at a Dutch student bar and caught alone (or without a white friend — which in this case, has similar consequences to being alone), I can expect to hear a few more things, regardless of whetherI choose to stand my ground or walk away.

Dutch comedian Ome Henk made a song a while back called “Sambal bij?” (“[would you like] hot sauce with that?”). I resented its existence because that’s the chant I would hear once a group of rowdy teens had their beer and wanted some entertainment from the obvious foreigner in front of them. They would scrunch their faces and start bobbing their heads.

It wasn’t even the chant itself that bothered me. It was the anticipation of it. 

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(the mind has a way of making things out to be worse than they actually are)

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I didn’t get beat up, nor did I have to worry about getting beaten up — but I did find myself wishing that I had a magic button that would turn me white and blonde just so nobody would bother me while I was eating french fries late at night.

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Someone from the skating team said I walk like a chinaman. There was no malice in his voice. “How does a chinaman walk?” I asked. He slouched and kept his nose towards the ground. I drew a reminder to stand up straight and posted it up on my doorway. It’s about time I fixed my posture anyway.

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After a while it got to my head. Am I really just a walking egg roll to everyone around me?

Of course not. There are many, many kind, open-minded people in Utrecht and the rest of the Netherlands. I’ve had the privilege of meeting many of them, and am even luckier to call some of them life-long friends. I haven’t even mentioned the kind strangers I’ll never be able to return the favor to.

The annoying people I meet make up only 1% of my daily interactions. Perhaps even less than that.

But I do have to remind myself regularly of this, lest I become bitter and start making the same generalizations about myself and about other people.

One day I forgot. I went up to Khaled in the OLA Happiness Station (one of those places that sells soft-serve ice cream) in Utrecht Centraal and went on a rant about my perceived woes.

Khaled is of Moroccan descent, but he’s lived in the Netherlands his entire life. He’d repeat the names of my favorite toppings in Dutch so I would know how to pronounce them the next time I came around. Patient guy, too, because he listened to me finish complaining before saying:

“At least you’re not Moroccan. People no longer make jokes at me.”

Khaled had a point. I wasn’t targeted by influential radical politicians like he was, nor am I met with the same suspicion from the general public. Put Khaled and I in the same police line-up and the average person will be more likely to point to him than to me.

I got my ice cream with four toppings and said no more about it.

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I felt disillusioned for a while. When I applied to study here, I had built the idea in my head that the Netherlands would be some sort of utopia where everybody was accepted and celebrated. It’s sad (and comforting?) to know that prejudice isn’t something you can run away from — prejudice is ingrained in human nature. And the more I accept it in myself, the more I can accept it in other people.

It took me months to realize these questions and jokes were not always intended to offend — perhaps they were a failed attempt to connect, or even an invitation to start making jabs of your own.

Depending on the culture, you can get more respect by taking it all in and absorbing it — pretending that it doesn’t even phase you. In the Netherlands (at least among the university-age students), you’d have to stand your ground publicly.

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I feel embarrassed that I gave so much weight to this, especially when I know there are so many great people out there.

Why did it bother me so much, those stupid jokes? Perhaps I felt frustrated (and even a bit lonely) after being treated differently because of things that are outside of my control. I wanted so desperately to belong, and to “integrate”.

I could always retreat into the international student bubble, but what good would that be for personal growth? I chose to study abroad in a country I knew I would be an outsider in for a reason. Better to push on through and learn something from it.

Conclusions:

  • There is no perfect society where everybody is holding hands around the campfire. That’s a relief, because now you don’t have to keep on running away from your problems. You’d only be swapping it for a different set of problems anyway (and they’re often the same problem wearing a different shirt).
  • I also gained massive respect for immigrants from any nation, and especially from my family. It’s not easy setting up base when you are constantly reminded that you are an outsider. They did this decades ago, before openly talking about race was even a thing.
  • It also made me appreciate the genuinely good people in my life. Just to be given the chance to meet them and let them change how I see the world. I can’t be friends with everyone, and that’s okay.

(I hope that wasn’t too sappy)

san jose vs utrecht: the weather

Here’s how a conversation would sometimes start while living in the Netherlands, especially if I met a new Dutchie:

-Where are you from?

-Oh, I’m from California.

-California?! Why would you go here?! 

Then they would flap their arms about, or put their hands on their head, as though I had swapped a sunny paradise for a place with constant rain and no hill in sight (and because the weather is a safe and sure topic when meeting someone new).  “I didn’t come here for the weather” would be my standard response.

Weather predictions for the same day, August 8th, 2014.

Screenshot 2014-08-08 00.06.52

Screenshot 2014-08-08 00.07.22

Marc says I’m missing a spectacular rain storm in the Netherlands — the kind that messes up the sewer pipes and floods the old neighborhood. Spectacular to witness, but not so spectacular when those sewer pipes are underneath your doorstep.

Joke’s on California though. The entire state is going through a drought.

 

Weather forecast from Google / The Weather Channel.

adjusting to life back home, after a year abroad (a few quick thoughts)

The first culture shock is when you arrive in a faraway land. The second culture shock is when you arrive back home.

The second one is stronger.

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Life in a quiet suburb of San José, California is much different from life in the bustling student town of Utrecht in the Netherlands.

For one thing, I can’t bike around everywhere like I used to — not unless I feel like getting flattened by the cars crossing into the painted bike lane. Favorite places and favorite people are no longer accessible on a whim. I miss that freedom.

It’s daily life and daily routines that I miss the most. I miss skating on the ice. I miss stroopwafels, late-night kapsalons, and the raw herring they sold at the Saturday market. I miss tea times with my neighbors. I miss the coffees with friends, and coffees alone out in town. I miss the Friday afternoon drinks that took place every week, at the same time, at the same place, with the same people. Oh, what I would do just to hear a Dutchie raise their pitch every time they say “doei!”

What a special time it was!

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It’s easy to romanticize the past, especially when it means so much to you.

But I know I will find reasons to love it back home, just as I have found many, many reasons to love my time in Utrecht.

flight MH17 & the Netherlands

About a week ago the Netherlands held a National Day of Mourning for the civilian plane that was shot down over Ukraine. My flight back home was on that day.

Utrecht University released the names of some of the victims. I didn’t know any of them personally, but the Netherlands is a small country, so there’s a good chance I’m only two degrees of separation away from them.

Curiosity led me to search them up on Facebook. Turns out I’m only one degree of separation away — we even study in the same buildings. Privacy measures prevent you from looking at much else other than their profile picture and cover photos, but it’s easy to imagine them as one of your friends or classmates.

Coming home after a year abroad

It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen Mom and Dad’s face. (I can see my brother’s on Facebook). We would Skype together throughout the year, but the connection would always go to to their land line instead of the computer.

I haven’t forgotten what they look like, but it would be interesting to see how (and if) they have changed from what I remember. Marc says they’ll probably have less wrinkles since I’ve been away from home (ha ha).

And how have I changed? I won’t know the full extent of that until life starts to settle down.

In terms of outside appearances, I have some facial hair growing on the bottom of my chin (hooray!), but not nearly enough to tickle someone. Dad will probably tell me to shave it off.

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Anyways, it’ll be good to see the folks back home.

a few thoughts before running my first marathon

In about ten hours I will be running my first marathon. My good friend and neighbor Brian will be running his first half-marathon. We’ve been training for months, but there’s still that sense of nervousness and anticipation. (Or: butterflies in the stomach, so to speak).

Good for motivation. Not so good for sleeping.

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I’ve never been to Amersfoort before. It’s about 30 km away from Utrecht, and I hear it has a gorgeous city center.

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It’s our last month here in Utrecht as exchange students. Running the marathon would be (or at least I thought at the time) a good way to end the year well. One more personal challenge before heading out.

Our good friends and neighbors said they would come watch and support us while we ran. That’s a warm feeling, to know that someone is cheering you on.

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I’m a bit worried about nipple chaffing, especially after seeing some photos from Google Images. But I will worry about running the race first.

My goal is to cross that finish line. A good meal with good company afterwards would be lovely, too.

an idea for a bedtime routine, or an exercise in gratitude and perspective

Every night before you head off to bed, write down with pen and paper:
  • Three good experiences you had during the day, and
  • why those good experiences happened, or
  • why you think these were good experiences.

You will soon find that:

  • This habit is easily maintained. It takes about fifteen minutes, and you can quickly get back into practice if you miss a day.
  • It becomes an effective way to remind yourself of all the wonderful things that happen in your life regularly. We all need reminders from time to time.

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But what happens if I struggle to find even three good things today?

Some days are harder than others, definitely. If that is a genuine statement, then I won’t resort to a platitude (e,g, there’s always a silver lining! as the Americans like to say) or tell you to get over it. Few people actively wish for a shitty day.

But if you’ve done this exercise for a while, you can take a look back at your previous entries when you’re in a slump. Perhaps a brief visit to a past memory is all you need to keep on going.

Rotten days are rotten for a reason, and remembering three good things that happened during the day won’t change that. But over time, those rotten days become less suffocating and dominating — especially in comparison to everything else that has gone well in your life.

I like this exercise because it’s a good way to stay sane and in good spirits.

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My good neighbors Brian and Maja have been making this a daily conversation topic at night, and I do enjoy hearing what they have to say. I got the idea from them.