Dear Britain, It's Not You It's Me

Dear Britain,

It's not you it's me.

Actually that's a lie. It's a little bit you. Well, actually, it's a lot you. And a little bit me.

Britain, I just don't love you anymore.

3 Lessons Brexit Could Have Learnt From Sinterklaas, Yes Sinterklaas!

It struck me today that the whole Brexit thing is rather like the whole Sinterklaas thing here in the Netherlands - and there are lessons the Brexit camp could have learnt from the Dutch. Bear with me: it's June and we're talking Sinterklaas so I know you're wondering where the hell this is going.....

Lesson 1. Outdated, Insulting and in Need of Change

For many a year now there has been a huge discussion about Sinterklaas's helpers and the fact that they are outdated, insulting and in need of change.

As it is with some of the EU institutions, those in the "Leave" camp have said, (and not many would disagree). Outdated, insulting and in need of change.

So you see, Brexit and Sinterklaas - same thing.

Did the Dutch throw Sinterklaas back to Spain and leave him there to rot? Did they stamp their feet and abandon the whole party, casting a bewildered Piet and his friends aside? Did they involve the whole world in their conundrum? No.

No, what they did, and are still doing, is shout a bit, argue amongst each other, and then let the NTR (Dutch television company who makes the Sinterklaasjournaal) gradually and subtly make changes that neither offended nor riled any particular side. The talking continues. Eventually everyone ends up happy without even realising it. Eventually.

Lesson 2. Not Logical for Modern Day Society

Many Dutch children have been screaming for years about the fact that most modern houses (i.e. the ones they live in) don't have chimneys so how were the Piets getting in to fill their shoes?

You see children are getting smarter, they are more informed than they once were, and they ask questions. They pose questions that parents can't answer, because no, none of it is logical. It's all based around an ideal, an ideal that isn't quite ideal. Sometimes it means parents have to lie to their children; it means they have to make shit up.

The situation is very much like the electorate of any EU nation. People are asking questions. Some of them are very intelligent questions, other questions not so much. People are getting much more information than they once did and social media allows that information to be spread easily. Lies, made up stuff and facts. The questions asked aren't necessarily met with the right answer. For example:

Q: Will that 350 million that we pay into the EU each week be paid to the NHS if we leave the EU?
A: Yes, we've even put it on a bus for you.

The question is based on misinformation, and the answer is an outright lie. Exactly the same as when our Dutch children ask:

Q: How does Piet get in our house if we don't have a chimney?
A1: Magic.
or A2: I don't know, I'm asleep when Piet comes into the house.
or A3: Piets have special keys that open all doors.

So what have the Dutch done to solve this chimney question? Did they ban shoe filling? Build chimneys on every home in the Netherlands? Abandon the whole Sinterklaas thing? Air their dirty laundry in public?

No, the answer is magic stones. Seriously, it's ingenious. Suddenly the Piets have magic stones to get into our homes. Methods change. Things evolve. The Dutch found an answer that fits today's problem. Children happy. Parents happy. The Piets are happy (those chimneys were a bit of a buggar to go down) and most of all Sinterklaas is happy. The Dutch now have a solution that fits with our modern day houses. They didn't knock the houses down.

Lesson 3. Who is it all for?

Ok, so there are lies told. There's an awful lot of stress involved around November and December whilst the children bounce around for weeks with excitement about the fact that Sinterklaas and his helpers are in the country and the older children hand over their surprise project to their parents out of frustration and reluctance. There is frantic shopping. Frantic planning. Lots of sugary snacks that are incredibly bad for you. There's a bit of arguing (see lesson 1) but we muddle through and then heave a sigh of relief when the man in red totters back to Spain on the 6th of December where he remains until the following November. 

It's not perfect. But wow, there are great things about it too. Seeing the pure excitement, joy and happiness on your child's face when they come down and see a present in their shoe. The sheer joy of watching your kid running out the house to look for a magic stone, or a special Sinterklaas coin. The culmination of all your hard work on 5 December and the most gezellig of all gezellig evenings.

We do it for our children. We do it so they can look back and cherish those memories, and pass those traditions and experiences on to their children one day.

We do it for our children. We are thinking about our children. And the generations to come.
You can make the connections yourself there I am sure.......

Being a British Expat In the Wake of Brexit

I woke at 5am this morning and the first picture in my head was a map of the United Kingdom. The British referendum on the EU was weighing on my mind. Nearly two hours later I saw the BBC headline that it forecast that the 'leave' campaign would win the referendum. Britain is leaving the EU.

33.6 million people voted. 16,141,241 cast in favour of Remain and 17,410,742 in favour of Leave. Interestingly, the older Brits voted for Leave whilst the younger citizens opted for Remain.

My Facebook timeline is filled with shock, confusion and upset.

Of course, my network comprises British expats, Europeans and expats from other countries - many who could not vote or had no say in British matters. I wasn't eligible to vote as I have been out of Britain for over fifteen years. I had no vote yet the result today will have an impact upon me personally, and my family. Some of my husband's colleagues are today wondering what their future holds - in all likelihood they may lose their jobs. I see my friends who are EU citizens living in the UK also wondering how things will pan out for them in the future.

It feels like a hangover from a party I never went to. There are condolences being handed out to British expats left right and centre. It's a strange day.

But what does this actually mean for British expats in EU countries?

David Cameron touched upon the issue on British expats minds this morning from outside the Downing Street property he will shortly vacate,

"There will be no immediate changes in your circumstances."

Nothing we'll notice straight away. But there will be changes in the future. My British passport will potentially have less weight in 27 countries in the future than it does now. There will be bureaucracy and paperwork to face that I currently don't need to worry about. In the future I will have a different status than my husband and children in EU countries. Maybe.

But they are all things that will work themselves out. They are an inconvenience. Minor issues. I hope.

What I do have more of a problem with is that Nigel Farage is today the British face of victory (yes the same man who went on record this morning as saying "we won it without a bullet being fired' obviously forgetting that Jo Cox lost her life on Britain's streets last week, and withdrawing the Leave campaign claims that the money not paid into the EU would be paid into the NHS).

What I do have a problem with is the hatred and the negativity that has flooded my social media timelines over the last few months, and particularly the last week.

What I do have an issue with is the sudden increase in armchair politicians spouting their views about immigrants, public money and making Britain 'great' again. I have seen members of the British public interviewed on Dutch news programs who were asked which way they were voting and their reasons for doing so. Some of the answers made something shrivel up and die inside of me.

I have seen friends arguing on Facebook with each other over the referendum and the issues involved. I have seen ignorance and fear. I am also happy to have seen those who have read every possible thing they could to make a decision they were comfortable with. Informed decisions - whichever way their vote went. I have seen those who chose to abstain because they really don't know enough to make an informed decision.

Today the pound's value has plummeted, the Euro has declined against the dollar. Stock markets across Europe are falling. Will there be a recession in Britain? Across Europe? Will the divorce be a messy one, or a friendly civilised affair?

The British PM has resigned and there is a motion of no confidence agains the opposition leader. Immediate political turmoil. Will Boris Johnson become the future prime minister of Britain?

Will other EU countries call for a referendum on their EU membership too? Geert Wilders (yes, that man again) has already staked his claim for one. (Note that he does not have parliamentary backing so no need for alarm as yet). The far right in France is also making noise for a referendum. Far right. Europe. Is that really where we are heading? I seriously hope we have learned that lesson by now.

What is also evident is that the United Kingdom is one of divisions. Scotland and Northern Ireland voted to remain in the EU, England and Wales voted out. I saw someone thinking aloud on social media that this may well be the beginning of the end of the United Kingdom. It's anyone's guess where it all goes from here.

"For one thing, there is now a genuine question over the shape of this kingdom. Scotland (like London) voted to remain inside the European Union. Every one of its political parties (bar Ukip) urged a remain vote. Yet now Scotland is set to be dragged out of the EU, against its collective will." The Guardian

Sure, things will settle down. Things will balance themselves out. It will take years but there will be a road forward from here. Britain will carry on, with its stiff upper lip it will survive. Will it be better? That's a question for the future. A question we will have to ask our children. The only certain thing is that things will be different.

What won't change in the future is my sudden loss of identity. My teenage self studied European Studies at university. I opted to learn European languages. I chose to exercise my right of movement and make another EU country my home. My husband works for an EU body. I will lose my EU citizenship but my life remains in the Netherlands.

My two youngest sons are clad in their Dutch football shirts today and a Dutch friend asked if that was me making a statement. It wasn't, it was pure coincidence - they chose their tops themselves today as they do every day. But she did get goosebumps from my reaction to the Brexit result.

Today I am feeling rootless. I am feeling a lot less enthusiastic about being British than I was yesterday. I plan to give myself time for a 'period of mourning', to wrap my head around this momentous decision that my countrymen have made. Meanwhile, I am planning ahead. I know for sure I am not the only Brit in the Netherlands today looking at the option of obtaining a Dutch passport. (There's a great article about the consequences for Brits living in the Netherlands here if you are worried about what Brexit will mean for you in the future.)

I've talked before about how I feel like I am living life in the middle - not quite Dutch but no longer wholly British. Today I am being pushed out of that void. Today I realise just how European I feel.

An Amen to Expat Life, to the Travellers and the Migrants of the World

An amen to expats, to travellers, to the migration of people by one of the most famous expats who has made Britain his home, Bill Bryson taken from his fabulous book, The Little Road to Dribbling.

Do you agree?

Bill Bryson's The Road to Little Dribbling: Book Review:

In his latest book, Mr Bryson works his way around Britain to see just how these isles have fared since his adventure twenty years ago when he penned Notes from a Small Island.

You Know You're a British Expat When.......

You can take a Brit out of Britain, but you can't always take the Brit out of the Brit....even when a Brit no longer lives in Britain......

15 Years in the Netherlands: England is Like A House I Once Lived In

I piled everything I owned into the back of a borrowed Dutch police trailer and moved across the North Sea to live in a country I knew little about. I left England, my birth country, and started life as an expat. Fifteen years later England is no longer home; it feels like a house I used to live in.  

In the streets outside this house I once lived in I see images from my childhood, of tennis matches played on the road and I hear the laughter that only children caught up in a fantasy world of play can make. I walk in the front door to be flooded with memories.

There's a hallway where we hung our coats and kicked off our shoes, but now I see only unfamiliar footwear and coats that I would never wear.

The kitchen is in the same place it always was but it has been revamped and smells of food I never ate.

The living room, albeit with a different shade on the walls and a new carpet, bears a resemblance to the room we occupied as a young family, gathered around the TV or chatting about our day.

And yes, the bathroom is almost the same, looking just a little grubbier and more worn than it once did, and there are toiletries littered on the shelves that I do not use.

The garden brings back fond memories of English summers, BBQ’s with friends and lazy afternoons on the lawn. However, my parents never planted that row of conifers, and roses blossom where we used to keep patio chairs. The shed we kept our bikes in has gone completely.

I know it is a house I have lived in, it breeds familiarity, but someone came in and redecorated. Somebody rearranged the furniture, planted new shrubs and flowers and erased the little touches that made it my place. I know my way around but it is clear I don’t live there anymore. It's not my home. It's been a long time since it has been my home. 

When we drive through the rolling English countryside I realise I miss hills and a landscape that provides variety. When I am pushing my trolley around the one-stop supermarket, it reinforces my yearning to shop every week surrounded by such choice and variety, surrounded by foodstuffs I grew up with.  When we pass a traditional English pub, tucked back on a country road tempting the passer-by with Sunday roast dinners, I cannot deny happy memories flood back, and the desire to have such a stop-off on my doorstep again is overwhelming.

Yet the overwhelming truth is this, when I am back in England I feel like a visitor. It is no longer my home. People I love live there but I no longer have a base there. When we get into our car and make our way back to Dover to catch the Eurotunnel back over to mainland Europe, or head to Harwich to get the ferry back to Hoek van Holland I know I am heading home.

Nobody Told Me Culture Shock Could Be So Debilitating

In September I will have been here in the Netherlands for fifteen years. Fifteen years. That's no mean feat, even if I do say so myself.

These days I struggle with my identity on an almost daily basis - I'm stuck somewhere in the middle between learning to be Dutch and naturally being British. It's a different struggle than the one I faced fifteen years ago.

I fell in love with a Dutchman, lost my job in England and decided the time was right for a change. When my then boyfriend said come live a Dutch life with me I didn't hesitate. I stopped my job search, sold my flat and packed up all my belongings in a borrowed police trailer.  Easy peasy. I became an expat - just like that.

The Culture of Health and Safety: Ever Been Tempted to See What Happens if You Put Your Head in the Path of a Plane Propellor?

I recently returned to England for a couple of days and for the first time in many years I actually flew. The idea was to fly to Southampton from Amsterdam but some wise guy apparently thought parking our plane in the vicinity of Rotterdam was easier. Hence we were bussed from the Schiphol airport departure lounge to the plane. (For those not au fait with the British sense of humour, the plane was not actually parked in Rotterdam..... but it might as well have been given how long our bus ride was.)

We piled off the bus onto the Schiphol airport tarmac and formed a semi-orderly queue to go up the plane steps. (The reason I say semi-orderly is because there were Brits and many a Dutchman queueing. I think we all know which nationality was orderly and which nationality needs some serious queueing schooling and no one needs to be publicly shamed. Toch?) 

The plane was a little one. Not like a 'two seater' little one, but it certainly wasn't a jumbo jet. The little plane had little propellors, which were slowly turning while we queued to get onto the plane.

Surprisingly no one leapt from the queue to put their head in the way of the propellors, just to see what would happen. In fact, no one moved out of the semi-orderly line at all and instead continued to shuffle forward to get on the plane. No deaths, beheadings, or even slight mutilations. Common sense and self-preservation prevailed.

My return flight from Southampton a few days later involved us walking a few meters from the departure gate to the airplane steps. Same type of airplane. Little. Same little propellors except this time there was no movement from them at all. However, we were all mighty relieved to know despite their non-movement we were kept safe by British health and safety measures.

Thanks to a fluorescent green band placed strategically around the side of the plane no passenger could end up in a dangerous life threatening incident. No passenger could any closer to the plane than the steps leading up to its front door. No chance of a confused pensioner heading for the back of the plane, no possibility that a tall Dutchman should bang his noggin against the wing and certainly no room for a freak accident involving a propellor and a curious passenger.

And if we hadn't seen the fluorescent green tape lining the plane perimeter airport personnel donned in fluorescent green jackets were strategically placed to ensure no passenger straying. In short, the only way any passenger was getting anywhere near the plane was upwards via the steps.

I've heard lots of expats living in Britain talking about the craziness of health and safety policies there. I've also heard lots of things from family, particularly when they are over here in the Netherlands and pointing out situations that would NEVER be allowed in Britain. They comment that the British are no longer allowed to rely on common sense to keep themselves out of dangerous situations.

And my airport adventure showed me how justified those feelings are. The Dutch authorities trust that no one will be tempted to put their head into the path of a plane's propellors. The British authorities remove the temptation altogether with fluorescent tape and staff in fluorescent jackets. Because you just never know. 

Has British health and safety gone too far? What are health and safety measures like where you live?

Expat Life and The Lost Art of Comparison

I have been living in the Netherlands so long now that I can no longer accurately compare life here with life in Britain. I have been walloped with that realisation a few times over the last few months.

Most vividly recently was during an interview for the LiHSK (the Dutch national organisation for Highly Sensitive Children). I was asked about schooling in Britain and the only personal experience I can refer to is my own schooling. And believe me, that was a long time ago. A long, long time ago.

I had it a lot during my three pregnancies too when people asked about the maternity system in the UK. I cannot talk about that from personal experience either. All three of my sons have been born in the Netherlands. I can tell you everything you'd care to know about the Dutch maternity system but ask me about the English one and I will falter.

When I first landed on Dutch soil I spent more time than I care to think about now comparing my new life here to the one I had left behind.

"You wouldn't see that in England," I would mutter time and time again. "THAT would never happen in England," I'd say to the Dutchies in my life.

And then, although I'm not sure when exactly, it stopped. It's not something I consciously did. I came out the other end of culture shock and it just stopped. I started living in the now. I adapted to how things are done here in the Netherlands. I stopped thinking about how it would be done in Britain. I stopped seeing things as 'wrong' here and 'right' there. I just started doing things like they are done here. Except birthday parties - there are always limits.

And now I realise that my life in Britain is so far behind me I couldn't compare it to my life here and now even if I wanted to. I have no idea about the nitty gritty of life in Britain to be honest. I watch the  BBC news regularly (so yes I know there is a general election coming up, that the live TV debates set up was a fiasco and that Nigel Farage is a dick) but the details of real life are lost to me. I can no longer compare the Dutch way to the British way.

Well, except in the realm of health and safety. When it comes to health and safety I can still often be uttering that a (life threatening or at the very least mildly dangerous like this) situation I come across here in the Netherlands would never happen in Britain. But now I don't mean it in quite such a positive way as I did fifteen years ago.......

Do you still compare your passport country to the country you now call home? Is it in a positive or negative way?

Pre and Post Expat Life: My Life Part I & II

The words of Nelson Mandela's sum up perfectly a feeling that I grappled with for the first time a few years ago whilst visiting England in the summertime.

I was taking a trip down memory lane with my sons, touring round the places I used to live, and the schools I once attended. It struck me that there was a distinctive gap between my past and my present. I struggle to get both parts to correlate.

Reconciling my 'British past' with my 'expat in the Netherlands' present is a task far beyond me. 

With the gift of hindsight I know now that moving to the Netherlands meant the start of 'My Life Part II'. I have contact with family and friends that played a large role in 'My Life Part I' but few of those actually know what it is like to be living out 'My Life Part II', what my daily life in the Netherlands is like. And the other way round; my Dutch family and friends have no connection to my British past. 

There are no links to the life that lies behind me. There is no red thread holding it all together. 

At certain times, like the occasional trips down memory lane when I am back in England, 'My Life Part I' and 'My Life Part II' collide. My Dutch children and Dutch husband are sat in the car driving around the roads and landmarks of my past. They see my childhood memories for themselves (if they manage to stay awake that is). But the two parts of my life are so different it is hard to comprehend how they make up the same life. They are world's apart. Or countries apart in any case. The colliding of the two parts happens so infrequently it is hard to grasp how it fits together. It's like a flawed jigsaw puzzle.

For a number of years now, whenever I am back in England, I entertain doubts about whether I could live permanently in my birth country again. I have changed. It's no longer feels like home. I feel more foreign in England than I do in the Netherlands. 

When I first moved to the Netherlands every trip I took back to England was heart wrenching. At the end of every visit back then I resented having to get on the return flight back to Schiphol. I had to force myself to go back to the Netherlands and leave what felt like my home.

These days when we are making the return trip from England to the Netherlands I feel safe in the knowledge that I am returning home. A Dutch border agent, sitting in his cramped booth at Schiphol airport in his smart blue uniform, put a huge smile on my face when he checked my passport as I re-entered Dutch territory. He looked up at me, matched my face to my passport photo, smiled and said "Welkom thuis." Welcome home indeed.

My home had moved.

My anchor had moved.

I was aware of the transition as it took place - my sense of home shifting from England to the Netherlands right before my eyes. We were driving on the M25 motorway around London making our way back to Harwich's ferry terminal after a visit to my father and instead of feeling laden with sadness at leaving my family I had the consolation that at least we were heading home.

Back to my safe haven.

Back to 'My Life Part II'.

Over to You: Do you feel like there is a pre and a post expat you? Can you reconcile the two parts?

8 British Christmas Essentials

I wrote last week about how our Christmases have become a blend of Dutch and British ways of celebrating this festive period. Christmas Day itself though in our house is British all the way.

When you are living abroad it may mean being creative, searching high and low and a dashing of compromise but British Christmases are there for the making. To create a British Christmas you need a few essential items. 8 to be exact.

1. Christmas Stockings

Let's start at the beginning. Christmas morning to be exact. Waking up to a present filled Christmas stocking is the most traditional way to wake up on a real British Christmas. Stockings are left on the end of the bed (or in our case on the door handles outside the bedrooms because my children are funny about the idea of a strange, jolly fellow sneaking into their bedrooms at night, even if he does come bringing gifts) before everyone goes to bed. When we wake in the morning (usually earlier than a crow would be bothered to announce dawn break) our stockings have been filled and we sit together on our bed and open the presents. Just like my own childhood Christmases - even beyond the days of believing.

2. Parsnips

Roasted parsnips were a staple part of my Christmas meal as I was growing up. Ok, so you don't have to have parsnips on a British Christmas Day but for me it has become a symbol of Britishness on the Christmas dinner plate. This is because for so long I had to search high and low to actually find parsnips I could roast to go with the turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, sprouts and roast potatoes. These days parsnips are a lot easier to find in the Netherlands. And strangely enough they are usually Dutch grown......

3. Christmas crackers

Photo Credit: Debbie Schiel

You cannot, I repeat cannot, have a British Christmas lunch without Christmas crackers. I'm not talking about Cracottes or Wasa crackers, I'm talking about the pulling, banging type of crackers. Again, these used to be something you could only get in your expat shop in the Netherlands, but they are now gaining in popularity and more and more available in Dutch shops.

Two people (or you can work it so Christmas crackers around the entire table are linked at the same time) pull one end each of the cracker. If you are lucky there is a bang and the contents fly across the table, or even the room. Each cracker contains a coloured paper hat, that since the year dot, has never ever fitted on my head because my hair is thick and curly. It rips instantly so it hangs off my head at a funny angle - but that is all part of the fun. There is also always a joke. Which is absolutely not funny.  And all part of the fun. Like this one:

What says OH OH OH?   

Father Christmas walking backwards.

I'll give you a minute to put yourself back on your chair and compose yourself. And then there is some kind of novelty item ranging from a piece of plastic crap that no one can decide the purpose of to more useful, metal items in the posh, expensive crackers.

4. Christmas pudding

The traditional British dessert on Christmas Day is called (*drum roll*)  Christmas pudding. It's a fruit and alcohol laden affair which is rich on the stomach and traditionally served with brandy butter, custard or cream - or all three if my Christmases growing up are anything to go by.

Some people make Christmas puddings themselves, steaming them for about a week (ok, it's a bit less  than that but it needs many hours on the stove) as part of the preparations......but I have three children and a life so shop bought it is.

5. Mince Pies

Stuffing your face with mince pies on Christmas Day (and the month before Christmas and a week after) is very British. Again, a rich fruit mix mince pies are as the name suggests, little pies. Little pieces of heaven actually. Delicious. Especially with lashings of brandy butter.

6. Christmas Log

Continuing with the theme of unhealthy food you eat once a year..... a Christmas log is also very traditional. It's a chocolate roll cake decorated to look like a log, garnished with a sprig of holly, a little robin and the text 'Merry Christmas' in plastic gold letters. As a child, watching my mum make a Christmas log cake, and helping her put our little robin on top was the ultimate sign that Christmas was almost here. I am pretty sure my baking skills do not to extend to making a Christmas log, at least not one that looks anything like the ones of my childhood and as they are not readily available in Dutch shops (or even in Marks and Spencers here) my Christmases have been log free for many years.

7. Rubbish TV
Once everyone is stuffed full of all the above, there is a shuffle, with much groaning about belly ache, from the dining table to the sofas where everyone plops themselves down for the next British tradition on Christmas Day - crap television, or brilliant television - it depends how you look at it.

Photo Credit: Melting Dog

Every popular series has a Christmas special and the nation braces itself for the annual Christmas disaster at the Queen Vic, or the goings on at Downton Abbey.

TV viewing schedules have been meticulously planned weeks in advance. What needs to be recorded? What will we be watching? It is also the time of year when reruns are perfectly acceptable and everyone sits and watches Love Actually, The Gruffalo and The Snowman once more, as well as Morecambe and Wise and classic Only Fools and Horses. But first.....

8. The Queen's Speech

Before anything else is watched, the nation traditionally tunes in to what the Queen has to say. Admittedly, there are less and less viewings each year. But nonetheless it remains a tradition, certainly among the older generation. Three o'clock, alcoholic beverage in hand, slumped on an armchair struggling to keep eyes open under the pretence of listening to her royal majesty.

So there you have it, the essential elements of a British Christmas.

What have I missed (aside from the traditional Christmas cake - I don't like it so I have ignored it - and pantomimes? What essential elements make up your Christmas where you live?

5 Reasons Everyone Should be an Expat at Least Once in Their Lives

If you're not an expat, you should be. At least for a while.

When I was a teenager, I planned to be an expat. A translator living in France to be exact. Then my great expat plan took a back seat, maybe even got shelved,  whilst I worked out a career and all that grown up stuff. Then, as is often the case, expat life just kind of happened whilst I was making plans for my non-expat future.

Though it was never part of the original plan to wind up in the Netherlands, that's where the turn in the road led, and I followed it. I'm glad I did. Aside from my beautiful family, I gained a whole new life.

Expat life changes things. It changes you. Whether you plan it or not, whether your stay overseas is a temporary move, or one meant for a lifetime, being an expat is enriching. It's life changing. And that's why I think everyone should do it, at least once in their life.

If you're still not convinced, here are five reasons why.

You Meet Amazing People

When you move to a new country you, by default, meet new people, people different from the ones in your social circle back home. You meet people who speak a different language, who are from a different culture, who have a different background.

Friendships grow with people from all walks of life, people who make your expat life colorful and enriching. Without even trying you learn about other countries, other cultures, other attitudes and traditions.

Of course, let's be real, you'll also meet arseholes; unfortunately they live abroad too - but thankfully they are in the minority. Avoid them and you'll do just fine.

You Immerse Yourself in New Cultures

When you move abroad you try new foods, you take part in new traditions and learn new customs. You are party to new ideas, new ways of doing things. You listen to new music. You see different political and economic systems in practice. You celebrate new holidays. You see the arts and heritage of a country first hand.

If you are lucky you even learn a new language.

You learn about a country's past, and you learn what traits a nation treasures, what ignites a nation's pride. You notice the details, things you don't read about in school books, or learn about in travel books.

If you open your eyes, you'll see a little piece of the world through someone else's eyes.

You Fall in Love with Your Birth Country

When you become an expat,
you see your birth country in a new light

What is that saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Well it's true. Nothing gets you looking at your birth country with rose coloured spectacles quicker than leaving it. I never really understood what it was that made me British until I left Britain, and then it all became incredibly evident. It turns out, you can take a Brit out of Britain but you'll never take the Brit out of the girl.

You start to appreciate all those things that make up your national identity, and realise that your home country culture, customs and traditions really have moulded you.

You notice the things that are dear to you from your own culture (for example, I never realised how attached to Bonfire night celebrations I was until I left England and 5th November just became a regular day) and which customs seem ridiculous and disposable.

When you become an expat, you fall in love with your birth country, including all those funny little quirks and odd habits that you never get a second thought to when you were living there.

You Realise Just How Much it's People, Not Things, That Really Matter

Living overseas, even temporarily, forces you to re-evaluate everything; to look at what you actually need and what you want in life. It's a clean slate, a chance to start anew and dump the baggage you no longer need to carry with you - both physical and mental baggage.

You start assessing what you miss from your 'old' life, what you actually need to move forward and what it is in life that really makes you happy.

You focus a little less on the material and more on the emotional aspect of life. You focus on the truly important things in life. You appreciate the true worth of those friends and family that were on your doorstep before you moved, and you sincerely value the worth of new friendships.

Relationships matter more than material goods when you have to start over. You realise it's people, not things, that really make the difference in life.

You Meet the Better Part of Yourself

When you leave everything familiar behind and set your feet down on new territory, you soon learn what you are capable of.

You uproot your life and replant it in, what seems at first, a hostile environment. You do everything to make sure it thrives. Because you must.

You learn to think differently, to think outside the box. The rules you once knew have been discarded and it takes time to learn the new rules - so you'll improvise. Maybe you'll get creative with your career, or amaze yourself with how determined you can be, or how passionate you feel about realising a goal.

You notice both huge and subtle differences and learn to be more open and flexible, because you have little choice. You become more accepting of change, because you have to be. You go through an unconscious self-improvement course and come out the other side stronger, more aware of yourself and your capabilities.

As an expat, you'll get to know yourself a little better, and you'll meet the better, more courageous part of yourself.

Over to you:Why else should you become an expat? What has been the biggest advantage of your expat life? Do you think everyone is cut out for expat life?

Why I've Had A Change of Heart About Public Toilets in the Netherlands

I was a relative newbie expat in the Netherlands when I first formed my opinion about paying to use a toilet when I was out and about.

During my three pregnancies I needed pockets full of change just to be able to leave the house. I moved from one public toilet to the next, leaving coins on white plates for the pleasure.

I felt like I was being robbed blind. Paying to use a toilet indeed.

All that changed when my eyes were opened to the joys of a free public toilet during my summer holidays in Cornwall, England.

"Rancid," said my husband, shaking his head, as he brought our son back out of a public toilet still crossing his legs and looking more and more visibly pained and upset.

I've ended up taking one or both of our toilet trained sons in to the ladies toilets on many occasions. British women, it seems, have higher levels of public toilet hygiene than British men, and a quick visit is doable as long as you don't touch anything. Ever. You need to master the art of hover weeing.

So I've learnt the hard way that I'd rather pay my 25 cents for a visit to a clean, fresh smelling toilet with an ample supply of toilet paper and soap than have a free wee in a stinky, pee covered cubicle with no sign of toilet paper or soap.

Oh, fourteen years ago I could never have imagined myself uttering these words but ..... the Dutch sooo know what they are doing when it comes to public toilets.

What do you think? Happy to pay for clean facilities? What is the norm where you live - is it free to pee or are a few coins usually needed to use public toilets?

Setting the Counter to Zero: A Real Summer Break

Six weeks came and went and the children are now back in school. The summer holidays flew by but we wrung every drop of fun we could out of them before a new school year takes us in its grip.

We spent nearly four weeks in England, most of that in Cornwall. We saw planes, trains and stock cars. We spent time on sandy beaches, time in the countryside and time in stately houses. We witnessed jousting knights, scaled castle walls, collected glimmering shells, played in the rock pools and built dams on the beach. We ate fish and chips, bacons sandwiches, crumpets and enjoyed many an ice cream. The boys added countless words to their English vocabulary list and played with lots of British children. We had a fabulous summer holiday.

Then we had two weeks at home which we kept quiet and low key, particularly after a bad bout of man-flu hit the man of the house and put him in bed for the best part of a week. And today a new school year begins. And we are ready for it. We are refreshed. Ready for the routine. Ready to work again.

I have taken a break from the blog over the summer. In fact, I took a break from all things writing, except for journal entries and one article about school uniforms, or rather the lack of them in my life. Hopefully, none of you noticed as I worked my butt off in July to schedule weekly posts and keep new posts popping up. But it does mean I have a head full of ideas, blog posts and general musings. But all in good time.

One thing that hit me over the head hard this summer was that time is moving at an alarming pace. My eldest has started in group 4 today and with a new teacher and a new classroom my little HSC was a little stressed. In a month or so my youngest will turn three. One more year at home with me before he also starts school. My middle son continues finding his feet in group 1, but this school year in a smaller group than that of the last term of the last school year and hopefully with a little more continuity. In one way or another, they need my support to get through these first few weeks back at school.

Before the summer break I had started putting more time into this blog, taking on more monthly writing commitments and I took pleasure in watching the blog grow. But I plan to take my foot of the accelerator a little. Just a little. I'm a mama first. And I have enjoyed that feeling over the summer holiday. The calmness of no conflicts with my time - beating myself up about whether to spend time with my boys or to slip off and write a blog post. I'm not sure whether you will notice a difference here. Only time will tell. In any case, the summer holiday did us all a power of good. It provided the break we all needed. The counter was set to zero again.

I hope you have all had a great summer break too!

Smitten by Britain: 10 British Things I Have Never Done

My offering for June is over on the fabulous Smitten by Britain website. This time I've put together ten things that I consider to be quite British which I never actually got round to doing or seeing before I left Britain to move to the Netherlands. Of course it doesn't mean I will never get to do them.... they are on my list, well the ones I actually want to do that is. Some British things I really never need to do...

"Before I reached my teenage years I had already had my fair share of house moves, so I got to know quite a few parts of England well. I have holidayed in many places across the British Isles and visited many sights on any serious tourist’s list. The Roman Baths in Bath, museums in London, the Lake District, the lush scenery of Cornwall and Devon, the Blackpool Tower and the beauty of Kent’s countryside are just some of the list that spring to mind. 

I have seen things that are on any sane person’s bucket list. For example, I have seen Evil Knievel perform death defying stunts at Brands Hatch......"

To read the rest head on over to Smitten by Britain: http://www.smittenbybritain.com/10-british-things-i-have-never-done/ 

 

The Ultimate Guide for Any Wannabe Brit

The Wimbledon Tennis Championships start today and so it is appropriate to share this once more:

This is the ultimate illustration for what it takes to be British. I mean, real, proper British. If you can't queue you're not in the British club. As a nation we pride ourselves on our queueing abilities and woe betide anyone who does not queue in the correct way. Should you fail to queue in the official manner you will be .........tutted at. A lot. And if looks could kill....... 

Lucky for inexperienced foreign queuers that we Brits are incredibly polite! We think menacing thoughts about queue jumpers, but we say nothing, leaving it at eye rolling and tutting. If you want to know more about queuing head over to Smitten by Britain for my article, The British Art of Queuing. 

Parenting Around the Planet: Parenting Dutch Style

I was delighted to be asked by Bod for Tea to write about what it is like to raise children as a Brit in the Netherlands.

It is only by putting pen to paper that I realised just how lucky I am to be able to parent here amongst the Dutch and I am constantly learning from those around me - just as I would be if I were raising my children in Britain. However, my examples here are different to those I would have in England - that is for sure.

To see what I mean head over to Bod for Tea and read my take on parenting Dutch style. I would love to hear your thoughts on my thoughts!

Lest We Forget - 70 Year Commemoration of D-Day

The images on television over the last few days have been poignant - commemorating D-Day and the Battle of Normandy. Remembering all those that lost their lives at the beginning of the end of World War II. As images flash before me, I can see myself standing in those same places a few years ago when we visited Normandy. The feelings flooded back.

As Obama spoke of the American soldiers as he stood in the Normandy American Cemetery my mind automatically fluttered back to the feeling of horror mixed with serene reflection which overtook me surrounded by 9,387 white crosses marking lost American lives. It is one of the most amazing places I have visited and a site that truly brings home the scale of the loss of life of the D-Day landings and the battles that followed. So many in their final resting place so far from home.

The American War Cemetery in Normandy

The Commonwealth, British and German war cemeteries were no less poignant. 

The British war cemetery in Bayeux: a humbling place to be

So many of the German graves are unnamed soldiers

The German cemetery: the black crosses in contrast to the white
crosses in the American cemetery is striking

In Arromanches-Les-Bains, as Prince William made a speech about ensuring that our generation and the generations to come never forget the sacrifices made on these Normandy beaches, I remembered walking across the beach at low tide to take a closer look at what is left of the floating harbour which is linked to Sir Winston Churchill.

And as we wandered around Normandy we were struck day after day by the scars that the D-Day landings and the Battle of Normandy left on the area. It is immersed in what happened along that coastline seventy years ago. I hope those scars will be an eternal reminder of the sacrifice and bravery of so many who gave their lives for the freedom with we live with today. Lest we forget.

10 Reasons My Dutch Family Holidays in Cornwall

For the last two summers, and a Christmas in between, my little family has made the trip from the west of the Netherlands over to the south west tip of England. This year will be our third year. Here are ten reasons why.

Cornwall is eye candy for holiday makers

1. Cornwall is a Beautiful County
Do we need any other reason aside from the fact that Cornwall is arguably the most beautiful county in England? I know, I know, there are lots of beautiful counties in England. But we love Cornwall. It has rugged coastlines, perfect sandy beaches, hidden coves, history and tons of things to do when holidaying with children. In fact, if a recent poll is to be believed Cornwall is the most family friendly place in the .... WORLD!

From zoos, amusement parks, beaches and nature to the Eden Project -
Cornwall has something for everyone

2. Parent's Paradise on Earth
We found a children's paradise where even mama and papa get to chill. This summer will be the third year running staying at Glynn Barton Cottages and it is a place where we feel like we have actually had a holiday too, and for those of you with young children you know that's a huge thing to say. Glynn Barton is nestled in rolling green hills, in rural bliss with the kind of on site entertainment that my three sons talk about all year round: animal feeding and egg collecting each week day morning; nature workshops; indoor games room and a soft play centre; swimming pool; tennis court; table tennis; toddler ride ons; maze and a trampoline. It's the only time of the year my husband actually paints his masterpieces and I love the writing time I get there. And best of all mama and papa have space to relax and sip wine in the evenings with a wonderful view.

Wine and a view - a parent's paradise at Glynn Barton Cottages

3. English Language 
For three weeks my three Dutch boys are fully immersed in the English language. It's an annual crash course for them. The vocabulary they pick up on their Cornish holiday is priceless.

4. British Culinary Adventure
My sons get to explore the British culinary delights that they generally miss out on the rest of the year. I'm talking cream teas, fish and chips, crumpets and cheddar cheese.

5. Socialising British Style
The boys get to play and interact with British boys and girls - playing very typical games out on the lawn.

6. History Lesson English Style
My Dutch family learn about life in Cornwall as it was. Historically, mining was Cornwall's lifeline and the Cornish landscape is littered with remnants of the mining industry. Last year we visited Heartlands which was a fabulous day out - entertaining and educative for all of us! We plan to visit more mining sites this year.

What was it like to go down the Cornish Mines? 

7. Cornish Coastline
The coastline around Cornwall is special. There is something for everyone but what particularly mesmerises my little Dutch family are the rock pools and cliffs. You see neither on the Dutch shoreline.

Boys, beach and rock pools - how much fun do you need?

8. The Little Differences
They sit in a car whilst we drive on the left hand side of the road. They notice when there are two separate taps over the bathroom sink (instead of one mixer tap which is more common in the Netherlands). They handle coins which are unfamiliar to them. They experience the little British differences first hand.

9. Hills
From the car they see rolling green hills, no matter which direction we drive in. The biggest hill they see at home is invariably the speed bumps on the road leading to our house. The difference is huge. They constantly utter 'wow' whilst we are out and about in Cornwall.

10. Nostalgia
As a child I holidayed in Cornwall with my parents and my brother. There is an element of nostalgia to our holidays, at least there was the first year we went. To think I now visit the same part of England with three munchkins of my own is an amazing thought that makes me smile from ear to ear.

Land's End

*This post marks the Family Travel Twitter Party which takes places tomorrow at 8.30pm (NL time). Come on over and join in using the tag #mkbtravel and check out the Travel with Kids Pinterest Board for great ideas on family travel.*