It’s been roughly 60 minutes since my plane touched down in The Netherlands: Kingdom of doubled vowels. Considering I spent the night sleeplessly wandering a near-empty Parisian airport, alternating between shifting uncomfortably in a cold chair, and tossing and turning on a cold floor, I would expect to be alarmingly disagreeable. As cost effective as it may be to forego proper lodging by running out the moon at your departure gate, for the sake of your sanity I wouldn’t recommend it. That said, I’m getting such a friendly, easygoing vibe from this city, it would seem a shame to waste the day on open hostility. It’s hard not to smile when the airport from which you’re emerging is furnished like an arboretum.
Realization set in when I boarded the bus. All of the directional safety stickers plastered about the hull were written in the oddest assortment of letters I’d ever seen. It struck me that for the first time in my four months abroad, I had entered a country in which I had neither any comprehension of the language, nor a guide to speak of. The mingled feelings of euphoria and and panic were quickly quelled when I remembered that English and French, were two of the six international languages of commerce, and that anywhere I went, someone would probably speak a smattering of one or the other. As it turns out, everyone with whom I’ve spoken thus far speaks better English than I do French. The world is very easy to navigate for English speakers. Nevertheless, I can still get excited about this strange “new” language. Yes, they’re the same letters we’ve come to know and love, but the game changes this side of the canal system. Spoken, it sounds almost like German and French hired a Swedish surrogate to carry their baby. There’s an extraterrestrial quality to it, and I keep expecting glyphs to illuminate on the walls every time someone orders a coffee. To give you a little nibble on the fruits of Netherlandish, it would seem their most popular name is Joost.
As far as the physical world is concerned, the city has a quirky, cool feel to it. It’s what Portland would be if it had 800 years of on again, off again famine and war. It’s the new world desire to be impressive without trying, combined with the old world benefits of thematically related architecture and time-hewn culture. Everyone’s style is laid back and chill -- not flashy, but clearly personalized. It’s comforting, especially considering no one bats an eye if you look like you slept on the floor of an airport.
One remarkable piece of infrastructure is the defined bike lanes. There is such an impressive number of bikers here, that they’ve annexed this throughway off of the sidewalk, and completely guarded it from the actual road. It’s a lane reserved for both bikes and motorcycles, and for someone who doesn’t live here, it’s terrifying. It’s a vast improvement to the streets of France, where the streets, sidewalks, and bike lanes are separated by feelings rather than actual markings, but without fail, I’ve forgotten that every crosswalk traverses both the street and the bikeway, and have nearly been taken out several times. The bikers here do not care about you. They move with the confidence of a semi truck, and a fleshy sack of tourist will be loathe to get in their way. We’ve taken to scurrying fearfully across the road while the buzz of tire and chain signals an impending swarm of stone-faced two-wheelers.
After less than 15 minutes of wandering, I came across a cannabis coffee shop. It was quiet, full of plants, and completely devoid of people, despite the faded LED “Open” sign. With a whiff every couple of steps, it’s easy to see how the once taboo drug has been assimilated into normalcy. It’s a glimpse into Seattle’s future, after the initial excitement has worn off.
It’s been an eventful first hour, and now I’ve holed up in a quaint café, nesting in a wicker chair adorned with pillows of vibrantly geometric badgers and foxes, eating a piece of Oreo cheesecake, occasionally speaking French with the very friendly waiter. It’s looking to be an eye-opening spring break.
