Our Hague

Now this makes me nostalgic: a map I started while we were still living in the Hague of all our favorite Haagsche places. It's pretty awesome! I just hope some of these cafes are still in business, nine months later...

View Our Hague in a larger map

Top 10 Den Haag Experiences

For a friend's visit earlier this summer, I compiled a list of our favorite Den Haag experiences.  As we leave The Hague for more American pastures, it seems a fitting adieu to our year of going Dutch*:

1. Classic tourism, Hague-style

By which I mean, an hour in the Mauritshuis (The Hague's world-class museum), followed by a walk around the Binnenhof (the Dutch parliament buildings).

The Binnenhof. Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

2. An afternoon in Delft 

Take the tram, or better yet, ride a bike down to Delft, a condensed version of all that is charming about Dutch towns: canals with narrow streets and white-railed bridges, churches with tilting towers, big squares and little squares and a thriving market on Saturdays. If the weather's nice, have a beer in the Beestenmarkt, a smaller square lined with cafes and full of Dutch people hanging out under leafy trees. No matter what, have a meal at Rossio - our most favorite restaurant in all of the Netherlands.

Beer on the Beestenmarkt

3. Scheveningen in the summer

Dozens of these temporary cafes line the beach during summer.

 The  Hague's beach along the North Sea, Scheveningen is a surprisingly popular destination for German tourists, who like to dig holes in the sand.  (Not only is this in fact a stereotype that Dutch people harbor against Germans, it also appears, based on our limited observations, to be true.) The most fun aspect of the beach scene - even more fun than watching Germans dig holes - is the seasonal bars and cafes that pop up along the sand during the summer months.  These are neither permanent structures nor make-shift encampments, but full-on restaurants with stylish outdoor lounge seating that magically appear sometime in May and then magically disappear - entirely - sometime in September.  You have to see it to believe it.

Feeling peaceful yet?

4. A tour of the Peace Palace

Andrew Carnegie's gift to the world, the Vredespalais is stunning on the outside and full of equally stunning treasures on the inside, presents from grateful countries around the world. The Palace is the seat of the UN's court, the International Court of Justice, which peacefully resolves border disputes, fishery fights, and other heated arguments between countries.  We take it for granted these days, but it if weren't for the ICJ, countries would still be going to war every year over the shifting courses of river boundaries and over-depletion of cod stocks.  Unfortunately, the Peace Palace is largely closed to the public, but if you plan in advance (or know someone who knows someone), you can schedule a tour.

5. Biking in the Wassenaar dunes

This activity combines two ultimate Dutch experiences: bikes and the sea.  An awesome bike path leads north from Scheveningen; at the top of the tallest dunes, you can look back at The Hague in the hazy distance.

(Already missing our Dutch bikes...)

6. Coffee at Zebedeus and/or ice cream at Florencia 

Florencia is an institution in The Hague, serving cheap coffee and cheaper ice cream to pensioners, motorcycle gangs, children, and everyone in between for something like 40 years.  It has the interior decoration of a smoke-filled Italian cafeteria from the 1980s, but any aesthetic doubts are quickly soothed by the 70-cent icecream cones. Based on a significant sample set ;-), I can strongly recommend the caneel (cinnamon), gember (ginger) and stroopwafel.  

Hanging out like Dutch pensioners at Florencia. 
Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

As for their coffee, you're much better off going down the street to Zebedeus, which serves - we have officially concluded - the best coffee in town. Plus it's built into the side of The Hague's Grote Kerk (literally, "Big Church"), which is kind of cool. Zebedeus also has very good food - indeed, it's my favorite restaurant in The Hague.

7. Beer in the Grote Markt 

Particularly recommended for a sunny afternoon, when the square is packed with people sunning themselves.  We are particularly fond of De Zwarte Ruiter, which has an atmospheric interior for those colder, darker days of winter.

At the height of summer, the tables are twice as thick. 
Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

8. An off-beat museum

If you've made it this far down the list, it's probably time for some more cultural amusements. Among The Hague's more unusual museums, I particularly like the Panorama Mesdag and the Museum Meermanno (a.k.a., the Museum of the Book). (I've previously described both here.) 

9. Shopping at the Turkish Market 

A massive open-air market that runs Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, De Haagse Markt (it's actual name) is what we call "a slice of life."  (See also my brief description here.)

10. Lunch or dinner at Simonis

Hit up the main branch of this local institution, amongst the unromantic docks of the Scheveningen port, for the freshest seafood in a no-frills setting and at surprisingly reasonable prices.  (The Dutch like a good value.)  In fact, their raw herring is so good, I had to revise my initial opinion of that ultimate Dutch delicacy.

Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

 * Yes, Dutch couples really do split the bill on dates.

Looking for more Hague ideas? Check out my map of all our favorite places: Our Hague.

What America Does Better

OK, so the Dutch might have figured out (in order of importance) bicycling, canals, work-life balance, public transportation, international law, windows, thrift and towel warmers. I love the Dutch, and the rest of Europe is pretty awesome, too - but after a full year here, I miss mightily those things that, frankly, the U.S. just does better:

• Handicap Access: London tube system, I'm looking at you. But it's a near-universal problem. God bless the Americans with Disabilities Act.
• Asian (and Mexican) food: Not a good sign when tacos cost north of 15 euros. And never trust an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet in a region best known for its raw herring and mayonnaise.
• Target and Trader Joes: Our four-year-old guest last November, who otherwise loved Holland and Paris, was confounded by the idea of life without Target. As am I.
• Popular entertainment: No one here disputes the U.S. superiority in this particular category. But the love of American pop culture renders the constant criticism of American politics somewhat ironic. (Yes, now that you've used your beloved iPhone to tell everyone on Facebook how America should be doing more for the world, please enjoy your evening of McDonalds and Mad Men.)
• Drip coffee: For whatever reason, it's just not appreciated here. 
• Tolerance: I've mentioned Geert Wilders before, but one need only note the reactions of politicos around Europe in the aftermath of the Oslo shooting to understand how unprepared Europe still is for a truly heterogeneous society. At least in the U.S., we pride ourselves on being a melting pot, even if we're still trying to figure it out.
• Cocktails: Yes, the beer and wine are great, but sometimes you just want a kickass Sidecar.
• Netflix and Amazon: Actually, given Netflix's recent downfall, I'm re-considering our move back to the States. Drat you, Reed Hastings!

This game can also be played with "What America Gave the World."  As friend Megan wrote in a postcard last summer: "Just remember: we invented the Internet, French fries and cars. Fuck yeah." To this we could add jazz, cowboys, the personal computer, the Declaration of Independence, hip hop, Tex-Mex, the Marshall Plan, the lightbulb, and Michael Jackson. As Jeff likes to say, "You're Welcome."

Biking along the Edge of the World

Sometimes you need to go someplace just because it's there - because that black hole sitting on the edge of your mental geography goads you and it's within your power to extend the boundaries of your known universe by some small increments.  At least, that's how I felt as a fat ten-year-old trying to bike up unexplored blocks in the 'hood that were inconveniently pitched at 45-degree inclines.

That's also how I felt about the north of the Netherlands - the upper half of the country above Amsterdam which no one else seems curious about. But it's there.

It's also different.  Friesland, the northwestern province of the country, has its own language that is entirely distinct from Dutch. Indeed, Dutch was not the official language of the Netherlands until 1993.  (They might as well have skipped over Dutch entirely and gone straight to English, but that's a different essay.)  In between Amsterdam and Friesland are vast tracts of land - entire provinces - that were under water 100 years ago.  And to accentuate the far distance you can travel in an hour's drive north of Amsterdam, Frisia is replete with funny looking little ponies, so miniature that they turned a grown man (Jeff) into a cooing eight-year-old girl.

Cooooo.

It's good to remind yourself of the power you wield over your own life as a fully independent adult. I wield this power sometimes when I skip the oatmeal Jeff dutifully makes for me in the morning in lieu of a pain au chocolat at my office canteen.  Or when I start watching the movie that comes on TV at 11 pm even though it's a school night and I'm already up past my bedtime.  Similarly, I decided I really needed to see the north of the Netherlands.  So in August I rented a car and dragged Jeff along on an entirely selfish two-day northern adventure.

It did not blow me away; it was different from the rest of the Netherlands, but only as different as, say, North Carolina is from South Carolina.  But our ultimate destination did move me greatly: it felt like we were biking along the edge of the world.

Portland or Den Haag?

In recent months, Jeff has made no secret of his growing love affair with The Hague - a sentiment, it should be noted, that is so unusual amongst the expat set that it draws suspicion bordering on outright hostility.  This state of affairs has led me to adopt a line of argument that can be roughly paraphrased as "Portland-is-just-like-The-Hague-only-not-in-Europe."

There is actually quite a bit of truth to this argument.  Both are gray-weather cities full of white people who like to think they are more liberal than they actually are, where bicyclists have privileged status and pot smoking is (more or less) tolerated.  In the spirit of my Dutch vs. Danish musings (albeit without the fun alliteration), I present Round 2: Portland or Den Haag?

The Blue Envelope of Death

In honor of U.S. Tax Day:

As not-quite-a-staff member of my international organization, I fall into a sort of diplomatic limbo: I am allowed to live in the Netherlands, but otherwise I have no diplomatic privileges. You might be asking, who needs diplomatic privileges? Trust me, it helps.

Our first limbo-challenge was the realization that I had no status to sponsor Jeff's stay in the Netherlands. I felt impotent. Thus began our mad scramble to find any plausible grounds for Jeff to obtain a visa independently - and our full introduction to the logistical wrangling of expat life.

Everything as a non-diplomatic expat is a battle: opening a bank account (you have to register with the city first), registering with the city (the registration couldn't be finalized until Jeff submitted his residency application), submitting a residency application (which in Jeff's case required a bank account). Do you buy international health insurance or local health insurance? What's your back-up plan when they reject you for a seemingly minor pre-existing condition? 

And then there's the question of taxes. A staff member at my work would be exempt from Dutch taxes, and her salary would be grossed up to cover any U.S. taxes she could not otherwise get out of paying. Sweet! 

As for me: too bad, so sad. 

Sure, a delightful thing called the Foreign Earned Income Tax Exclusion allows me to avoid most federal and state taxes, but I still have to pay for Social Security and Medicare. Meanwhile, my colleagues assured me that I didn't have to worry about Dutch taxes unless the Dutch authorities (the Belastingdienst) came knocking on my door - which they do by sending you a letter in a bright bluish-purple envelope. No colorful envelope, no Dutch taxes.

This reassured me for about a month, until one day I came home to the blue envelope of death.

It could be worse. Actually, as it turns out, it could have been much worse. First, the Dutch tax authority prepared my return for me, in about 10 minutes. I cannot imagine typing the Dutch equivalent of a 1040 Form and accompanying instruction booklet into Google translate. Second, it turned out I make so little - even when entered as Euros (and have you seen the exchange rate lately??) - that I didn't owe any Dutch taxes after all. Sweet - or sad?

Still, we're stuck paying the city trash tax and the water pollution tax, which are not cheap, and I am sure other fees are lurking right around the corner. Thank god we have no children, cars, or pets (because there is a dog tax).

Of Bikes and Shame

The problem with bicycling to work, I have discovered, is that every day I seem to find a way, at some complicated intersection or another, to do something really stupid. Although crisis is always averted, it is usually thanks to the quick reflexes of the unlucky pedestrian, bicyclist or driver who made the mistake of crossing my path.

Take this morning, for example: it being a fine spring day full of blue skies and birdsong, I set out for work on my bike - and immediately did something really stupid. Faced with a barrage of Dutch from the construction workers observing my stupidity, I felt painfully clueless (were they scolding me or defending me?) and wished I knew enough Dutch to apologize. Instead I could only stare blankly back at them and the livid driver I almost rode in front of. But the worst - oh, the worst - is the righteously indignant glare. The driver this morning gave me a doozy - as in, "Are you crazy! Or just really dumb?" It's a version of Dutch I understand completely.

As I continued on my way, shaken and (I admit) near tears, I came to realize that there is (surprise) a lesson to be learned. It goes something like this:

1. Living a good and full life requires trying new things.
2. However, when we try something new for the first time, we will not be good at it.
3. Thus, as we undertake any new endeavor, we will make mistakes - many of them.
4. But those mistakes help us get better at the new endeavor, much more quickly and successfully than if we never made mistakes.
5. Plus mistakes can sometimes lead to humorous stories of self-deprecation that provide good foder for cocktail parties and dinner conversations.
6. In conclusion: Mistakes are good, learning curves are important, and we can't give up just because we're embarrassed.

So right about now, you're probably thinking, "Thank you, Captain Obvious." But as a recovering perfectionist, for me this is a very hard lesson to learn. In fact, it's a lesson I've "discovered" and "learned" many times already. Two steps forward, one step back.

In the meantime, if anyone knows of a Road Guide for Bicycling in Holland, please let me know.

(This post was brought to you in part by Heather B., who first told me it's OK to try things I know I won't be good at; Ms. Milani, who taught me the importance of having good foder for cocktail parties; and Mysti, who likes to say "in conclusion".)

Zoeks, Scooby! That snert is lekker!

This is a blog entry that is long overdue. It was clear to us within a couple weeks of our Holland adventure that Dutch is a fun language. Useful? Debatable. But its amusement factor is high.

Perhaps English speakers find Dutch pleasantly quirky because many words sound like they could be English, if English were whimsical. Like there's just enough foreignness to Dutch to make it exotic, but not enough to make it impenetrable. Plus it has a lot of cool vowel sounds.

Sometimes we walk around saying our favorite Dutch words to ourselves. It's endless hours of entertainment.

Our Top 3:

Alstublieft: an all-purpose word that means "please" but also (in a customer service situation) here you go, thank you, happy to help, and would you take your change already.

Lekker!: Another all-purpose word, always followed by an exclamation point (or else a question mark). This one word sentence means, essentially, that you really really like something (it literally translates to "Delicious!", but is much easier for little kids to pronounce). Jeff has taken to lekker! like a kid to a candy cane. It also shows up in one out of every four ads, and can often be overheard in exchanges between parents and their children ("Lekker?" "Lekker!").

Let op!: Another phrase that must always be followed by an exclamation point, "let op!" means "look out!" but it sounds friendlier and can also be used as a general warning: "let op!" can mean don't forget, pay attention, watch it buster, the tram is coming, or don't touch the third rail.

These three words alone enable nearly unlimited Dutch conversation. But other fun words include:

• Zoek: Meaning "search" and often appearing on websites. Every time I see it, I think "Zoeks, Scooby! It's Dutch!"
• Knoflook: "Garlic." To fully appreciate "knoflook", know that the "k" is pronounced.
• Snert: For some reason, this is the Dutch nickname for split-pea soup. I really don't understand why anyone would want to call anything they eat (and like) "snert".
• Winkel: "Store". Is it cuter as spelled, or as pronounced ("vinkel")?
• Doei: "Ta ta", and like "ta ta", apparently only used by middle aged women. It is pronounced at a high pitch and is often drawn out ("dooooeeeii!"); at first I thought people were calling their children/cats/cows home.
• Potlood: "Pencil". As in, "Jeff, pass me another potlood."
• Kool: "Cabbage". Which is not nearly as "kool" as it sounds.
• Dragon: "Tarragon". As in, "Gee, Jeff, the eggs are really good, but next time I think they could use a bit more dragon."

Snowpocalypse, Den Haag edition

Holy icefield, Batman! I brought the Snowpocalypse of 2010 to the Hague!

What started as a heavy snowfall on Friday has grown by maybe an inch or six per day since. But it isn't the amount of snow that has me alarmed - it's that the snow is staying put.

Friday

Today

I don't mean that the snow isn't melting - though it's not. I mean that no one seems to be making any effort to move it.

Christmas shopping on an icefield

I can sympathize with a city government that doesn't own any snow plows because it "never snows". This is why a light dusting of snow can shut down Portland. But there is a further disconcerting cultural/legal difference I was not expecting: No one here clears their sidewalk. Not homeowners, not the government, not even businesses.

So five days later, it's more or less like it just stopped snowing two minutes ago. The snow on the roads is browner than that on the sidewalks, but otherwise it can be hard to tell where the sidewalks end and the streets begin. Or where the sidewalks are, period. Venturing outside is like an arctic expedition.

Sidewalk? Who needs a sidewalk?

But venture outside I must, because I will give the locals this: there is no capitulating to the snow here. Sure, the trams may stop running, and people may be slipping all over the sidewalks, but as fas as I can tell - since I cannot understand Dutch TV news - schools do not close, government offices do not have snow days, shops stay open, trash gets collected, drivers (particularly bus drivers) seem oblivious to the snow on the roads, and so I along with everyone else must suffer through two-hour commutes until things return to normal.

(Yes, there are still some hardy bicyclists out there, and yes, they do not wear helmets even when riding over snow and ice while sharing the road with cars likewise ill-equipped for the weather. And yes, I have seen at least two bicyclists wipe out in the middle of the road.)

I admire this chutzpah in the face of Snowmageddon II. But tonight I have to make my way to Schiphol Airport - a rail trip that has been challenging recently in good weather. Nervous? Yes. Ready for adventure? Yes. Eager to escape the icefield of Den Haag? Definitely.

Little Luxuries

I recently learned something very important about living in Holland: fresh cut flowers are cheap. Cheap as in a bouquet of flowers costs 2 or 3 euros (and with the exchange rate swinging back in our favor, that's a pretty sweet deal).

Now that we have bikes (at the same ratio that Americans own TVs and we used to own computers), my next step for going Dutch? Buy myself fresh flowers every week.

Say what?

In the Netherlands, I share my birthday with Sinterklas.* This seemed like a good idea, until my colleagues filled me in on the darker side (literally) of the Dutch St. Nicholas.

More than Sinterklas himself, the Dutch love his little helpers, all of whom are called Zwarte Piet (literally, "Black Peter"). Zwarte Piet is a Dutch tradition that is entirely lost in translation, at least for Americans scarred by the legacy of Jim Crow.

For a country that prides itself on being forward-thinking, how can its adults love to dress up in black face, complete with big red lips and curly "Afro" wigs, to dance around clumsily to bad hip-hop? (For examples, see here and here.) How can otherwise-normal seeming stores deck themselves out with grinning black-face caricatures, both as decorations and as merchandise?










I am very confused, and have heard no satisfactory explanation (including the more recent effort to recast Zwarte Piet as a chimney sweep: I know a socially inappropriate stereotype of a dumb but happy black slave when I see one).

There's so much to say on the subject, but I expect everything I could say has already occurred to you. (And if it hasn't, just try googling "zwarte piet" - it's all been said before.) Instead, check out Jeff's post, which also links to the quintessential David Sedaris take on this inexplicably popular Dutch tradition.

* In the U.S., St. Nicholas Day is celebrated - if it is celebrated at all - on December 6.

A-ha!

Shopping in grocery stores in foreign countries is a mini-anthropological experience. In the Netherlands, the ubiquitous grocery store chain is Albert Heijn, or AH -- which, in Dutch, is pronounced "a-ha." Here is what A-ha! has taught me about being Dutch -- and being American:

1. Pea soup: The Dutch evidently love their "erwtensoep," which Wikipedia tells me is also called "snert." (Appetizing.) There is a whole set of shelves in our local A-ha! just for the snert, including on the bottom shelf industrial-sized cans of generic pea soup, suggesting snert-eating marathons in Dutch households.

2. "Exotic" vegetables: I can tell we are living on a different continent and in a different clime based on what is cheap in the produce section. I never really thought about it, but Belgian endives and Brussel sprouts are indigenous to someplace, and obviously that someplace is here. Same also with leeks and cauliflower. We are finding ways to work leeks into just about every meal.

3. Kaas: the Dutch really only eat Dutch cheese - and I can't say I blame them. Our useful word of the week: "belegen," meaning "matured," or cheese that is beyond "jonge" but cannot yet be classified as "oude." We love our belegen kaas.

4. "American" cusine: Catering to the large expat community here in the Hague, our local A-ha! has a long aisle of "international" cuisines, including significant selections of Asian, Latin and Indonesian ingredients. At the very end of the aisle are just a couple shelves which are apparently intended to represent American cuisine. And what, you might ask, do the Dutch associate with "American" cuisine? Evidently corn on the cob is such an anomaly in Europe that you have to buy it canned. There is also a company whose primary purpose seems to be to knock off American brands, such as Kraft mac & cheese, French's yellow mustard, and Cheetoh cheese puffs. However, the Hellman's "real" mayonnaise is real, but I am amused by the solitary American brand when there is an entire section of the store dedicated to actual "real" mayonnaise. Also represented in the American section: BBQ sauce, beef jerky, Skippy peanut butter, caramel corn, and jet-puffed marshmallows (the kind they wouldn't sell at Whole Foods).

When I head to Boston at the end of November, I will be taking an empty suitcase with me so I can stock up on my own favorite "American" items -- none of which are evidently American enough for A-ha! to stock in their American section. High on my list are Quaker rolled oats, rooster sauce, and Old Bay seasoning (for Jeff). Any other suggestions?

Apartment Hunting

We went looking at apartments today in the historical center of the Hague and found some oddities - coming from DC, you could not fathom the extreme location of these places. So in today's security climate, which seems less safe?

Option A: The house right on top of the entrance of the Dutch Pentagon, with a steady stream of people in military uniforms filing past your front door and through the guard booth (we'd have to make friends with the guards; otherwise, it would be awkward).

Option B: The apartment right next to and overlooking the guard booth and garage entrance for the American Embassy (as in, wake up in the morning, roll over, look out the window, wave at the rifle toting guard two stories below).

I continue to maintain we would have been safer in Bogota. But at least our chances of being burglarized would be close to nil...