It sounds more intimidating than it actually is. When it comes to public demonstrations, the most that (visibly) happens is a twitch of the right hand or the participant’s temporary inability to continue counting basic numbers. The sides of their mouth scrunch up, and their voice trails off into a slight grunting sound.
“één, twee, drie, vi-urrgggghh…..”
It makes for great entertainment, especially when that participant is your professor, or your willing friend.
~
“Who wants to go first?”
~
TMS feels like someone is poking your head with their finger.
“You must do a lot of pointing” says the professor, after only my right index finger twitched at 65% capacity. He mentioned something about musicians having finer motor control of each individual finger, but I don’t play any instruments.
You can even apply the TMS machine on your leg. My entire left leg jumped after the professor put it on my left thigh.
I don’t think there was any purpose for that, other than curiosity’s sake.
Put gezellig into Google Translate and you’ll get the word “cozy” back in English.
“But it doesn’t have the same meaning!”
The Dutch have pride in explaining to foreigners how gezellig is one of those words that can’t be translated properly to any other language — or at least to English. Maja says that the Danish have a similar concept called hygge.
Cozy conveys comfort, with or without the presence of other people. You can wrap yourself in a blanket with Netflix and a tub of mint chocolate-chip ice cream in front of you, and that would be cozy. (Having someone else wrapped up in the blanket with you would be even cozier, but that’s not a necessary condition for coziness.)
Like cozy, gezellig is a feeling. An emotion. A gathering of friends at the dinner table would be gezellig. Bumping into an old friend at the grocery store would be gezellig. Riding a bicycle against 20+ kph winds with a friend by your side would be gezellig. It’s a warm feeling, even if your surroundings aren’t.
~
So what makes something gezellig, and not just cozy?
Gezellig needs the presence of people you care about.
There’s a certain bar in Utrecht that gets busier the closer it is to sunrise. It’s not the most savory spot. The lighting is dark in a shady way, and it’s a bit sketchy in that I was generously offered hash within three seconds of walking in. But the bartender (and presumably owner) said that he’s been working there for over thirty years, so there must be something redeeming about this place. When all the other bars close, this one spurs to life.
I was inside with a Danish friend, Marcus, who wears a pencil as an earring. In we went at 3 AM, and out we went smelling like cigarettes at 6 AM. We don’t even smoke.
~
Marcus would tell me stories about how he grew up between two lakes and the ocean — how grateful he is for his family, his friends back home, and how he’s changed over the years. It’s one of his last weeks here in Utrecht, so naturally he’s in a reflective mood.
But one thing in particular stuck out to me — every time he finished a story, he would say:
“Well, enough about me. I want to hear more about you.”
And that’s when he told me about Jantelov, or the Law of Jante.
You’re not to convince yourself that you are better than us.
You’re not to think you know more than us.
You’re not to think you are more important than us.
You’re not to think you are good at anything.
You’re not to laugh at us.
You’re not to think anyone cares about you.
You’re not to think you can teach us anything.
[It’s not an actual law, just an idea expressed by the Danish-Norwegian novelist Aksel Sandemose.]
Jantelov sounds harsh to American audiences, if only because American culture yearns and screams for individuality and gargantuan proportions at every opportunity. From an extremist point of view, it almost seems that Jantelov encourages you tear out the lone tulip in the poppy field.
But that’s not the case here. Ideally, it’s more like a desire for egalitarianism, with everyone being treated equally and held in equal esteem.
And that night, to Marcus, it meant being conscious of how much he was speaking about himself.
“Enough about me; I want to hear more about you.“
~
I like that statement. It’s a friendly invitation to speak and share more, and can encourage even the quietest conversation partners to express themselves (but only after you’ve opened up first).
Conversations need two people contributing — equal parts listening, and equal parts sharing. Have only one person speak the entire night and it’s just another interview, regardless of how well the other person “listens”.
~~~~
Further reading: Crystal Lee Möller writes an interesting blurb about Jantelov here, and how American and Scandinavian work cultures may clash due to differing interpretations on individualism and egalitarianism.
“Did you watch the news tonight? There are Dutch speedskaters practicing in the Yellow River!”
One month into winter and there’s still no snow on the ground, much to the dismay of international students who have only experienced one season their entire lives. It’s unusually warm this year, even if it’s still hat-and-scarf weather. The only ice you’ll see in Utrecht comes from the occasional hailstorm, and even that doesn’t last too long. Some Dutch people have to go abroad to get their skating fix on natural ice.
I’m still crossing my fingers though. Perhaps February will be the month that the canals and lakes freeze over.
That’s what the cute animals on the Dutch Hallmark greeting cards say to welcome the new year.
Deciding to change your life for the better during the New Year is like deciding to finally love on Valentine’s Day. It’s still a tradition worth taking seriously though. Yes, even if people set themselves up for disappointment by setting unrealistic goals. And yes, even if the failure rate for the typical resolution is 90%+ within the first month. Because who knows, someone might actually make it.
Plus, it wouldn’t be fair of me to bash New Years Resolutions if I regularly use it as a conversation starter.
~
Some concerns at the start of the new year — or at least the first ones that come to mind:
Cooking: I’ve eaten the Dutch food, but what about properly making it? I think it would be nice to learn how to make some dishes to show the folks back in California. It’d also be a nice change of pace when I don’t feel like having pasta at night again. And why stop at Dutch food?
Correspondence: Why am I slow when it comes to responding to people, whether through e-mail or handwritten letters? It’s not because I’m overwhelmed by an unending pile of messages. I like to give letters proper care and time, but there’s a difference between procrastination and thoughtfulness.
Speed skating: Learn how to make that criss-cross motion with the legs while turning.
Communicating: How can I connect with people? How can I make other people feel understood, and make myself understood? And how can I use the insights from the first two questions to improve my current relationships?
Learning Dutch: I’ve hit a plateau. How can I improve at this point? Do I want to improve? If I stop now, I’ll still be ahead of most other international students (as if comparing myself to other people was ever a reliable measurement). If I continue, I risk investing valuable time and energy towards learning a language I will just as easily forget within a few months of leaving the country. So the question for me is — is learning Dutch worth that risk? Hint: I still think so.
And in general, just to hammer the point in: Am I taking enough risks?
~
Most resolutions tend to have a common theme. Explore more, do more. Be more. Living in a foreign country (which feels less and less foreign every day) almost takes care of the first two by default.
Thanksgiving as a holiday doesn’t exist in the Netherlands. International students hear about it all the time and are curious about what it is. “What does turkey taste like?” “Can we have a Thanksgiving dinner, too?” The Canadian students say that they have their own version some time in August, but even then it’s not such a big deal as in the U.S.
The coordinators responsible for setting up the exchange program threw a Thanksgiving dinner for the all the Californian students. Turkey, potatoes, green beans, mushrooms, the whole deal. I thought it was a generous gesture, and it was interesting to see what a lot of the Californian students have done since summer orientation. How have the friend groups changed? Did the Californians stick around Californians for the entire semester, or did they branch out and go out of their comfort zone?
~
Thanksgiving may just be another day, but it never hurts to remind myself of how amazing I have it in life. I have a good family. Good friends. Good childhood. Good education. Those qualities alone already put me at an advantage over most of the world — but nope, now I also get the opportunity to pack my bags and live in another country for an entire year. Pretty sure I’m living someone else’s dream right now.
And yet, I feel an odd sense of guilt. Without my parents’ financial support, there’s no way I could have studied abroad in the Netherlands, let alone afford the plane ticket. (Tutoring young children in English during the summer only goes so far). Why do I this opportunity, and not someone else? Someone else more compassionate, more diligent, more deserving?
A combination of dumb luck and the hard work of those who came before me can answer that question, but it doesn’t offer an answer to this — how can I ever repay this? (and I don’t mean in the financial sense)
I can’t.
But there is one thing I can do to show gratitude, and one thing you can do as well if you find yourself in a similar situation:
Share that same generosity in spirit with the people you meet everyday. When someone shares something from their own life, be it a story or tradition, respond in kind. Or at the very least, acknowledge them.
It would be a terrible waste of all the other days of the year if generosity or gratitude were only reserved for Thanksgiving or Christmas.
