About two and a half years ago, at the start of my [somewhat] independent life as a university student, I met a Dutch exchange student named Charlotte (or Lotte, for short). I was in the process of moving into an apartment off campus; I had just hulled all of my move-in boxes into my room, and was anxiously anticipating the arrival of my other four, random flat mates.
Tall and slender, with a voice coated in a slight accent, Charlotte peered into my room’s open door soon after arriving and extended her hand in greeting. I remember being slightly taken aback, because I wasn’t used to shaking people’s hands upon first meeting them. (In Miami, you always kiss people on the cheek once to say hello)! The irony, of course, is that, now, I feel odd kissing people on the cheek in greeting whenever I return to Miami.
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She was, at the time, as old as I am now (20), and as we settled into our semester-related routines, we forged a unique kind of bond. Despite our two-year age difference, we related to each other’s open-minded mentalities and excitement over the novelty of being a University of Florida student. It was my first time attending university, and it was her first time attending one abroad. UF brought us together in a way that no other place could have, given our separate paths.
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The six months we shared together were incredibly special to me. I showed her poetry that I rarely exhibited to the rest of the world. I hosted her in my home for our November and winter breaks. I introduced her to Cuban food and culture; we laughed over how similar Cuban croquetas are to Dutch croquettes. She snorkeled in the open ocean for the first time, in the Florida Keys of all places—and we both witnessed a sea turtle eat a jellyfish!
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We unexpectedly spent New Year’s together and watched my neighbors roll around enormous suitcases around our hallway after midnight, to will forth a year replete with many travels. We traveled to New York City together, almost got locked out of our apartment and were forced to briefly sleep in the hallway, watched an improv show with dogs, and sang our hearts out in a karaoke battle with our other friends.
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She helped me become more extroverted and comfortable around different people, and she reassured me when I doubted my college major/course. (Thanks to her, I switched from studying English to Psychology, and I wouldn’t have it any other way). She hulled me (and my backpack and suitcase) to my friend Cami’s dorm right before Hurricane Irma hit Gainesville, on her bicycle. (The Dutch are something else entirely on their bikes).
Throughout it all, I couldn’t help but be amazed at the likelihood of us finding and befriending each other when we did. We spoke for months after her stay, and she came to visit me last spring for her birthday.
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It only made sense, then, that she would be the first person I visited when I studied abroad. After spending a few weeks in London, I decided it was time to take a weekend trip to the Netherlands. The timing seemed to be ideal, as well; in just a week’s time, Charlotte was leaving to pursue a 3-month long internship in Malawi, and I wasn’t sure if I would have enough time to see her once she returned.
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Before I summarize a bit of what we did that weekend, I want to dedicate a few lines of this blog to reflect on the importance of establishing a firm connection with people wherever one goes. I find so much within this world to be interconnected, and far too little to be purely coincidental. As an example—my roommate, Ella, who I really appreciate and care for, is the same age that I was when Charlotte entered my life. I find myself occasionally serving as a guiding force within her life just as Charlotte had done for me, and I acknowledge all that she has taught me while I have been living in England. It’s interesting to note how the tables have turned, and I take it as an indicator to pause and reflect upon how much I have grown since I started university.
Personally, I find that establishing genuine connections with people in all walks of life helps me feel like part of a place belongs to me. Instead of collecting postcards or train tickets from a place, I collect people and experiences. When I leave Egham, for instance, I know that a part of it will remain with me because of the many people I have come across and sent loving energy toward (in all of the interactions I have had with them). Similarly, I know that a part of me will remain with my new friends, and that I will carry a piece of New Zealand, Australia, Montreal, Sweden, Ireland, and Massachusetts wherever I go.
When I picture a life lived well, I think of one lived in the company of different people against the backdrop of different places. I consider an important life one in which I feel challenged by those around me and increasingly devoted to them. I hope that, in my exchanges with them, I further cultivate warmth, gentleness, justice, and understanding within my spirit.
And I hope that you, reading this, set out (or continue) to mold your life to connect with as many people as you deem necessary.
Now, on to my weekend in the Netherlands…
Charlotte put so much thought into planning my trip to visit her; I couldn’t have had a better time than I did. I arrived on Thursday evening, and we set out to explore the town she went to university in (Utrecht). She even took me to a restaurant called ‘La Cubanita,’ which serves tapas (includes some Cuban dishes and some not-so-Cuban ones). I was told to be careful drinking from my water bottle, because it is customary to purchase water from the restaurants over there. (I forget that most of Europe is like this).
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She explained her weekend plan to me as we ate. We were to take a day trip to Antwerp, Belgium the following day, since it’s only a 2-hour drive or so from her home. She also had a scary, dollhouse-themed escape room reserved for us (and some of her friends joining us for the road trip) in another part of Belgium, on our way back home from Antwerp. On Saturday, we were to take a stroll around her village (called Woerkum), and then head into Amsterdam. My flight home was scheduled for Sunday morning, at around 7am.
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Following dinner, we entered a grocery store so I could buy myself a toothbrush (I always manage to forget something), and we ran into Rebecca, Charlotte’s Dutch friend who she met while studying at UF, and who we traveled to New York with just two years ago. Rebecca had done so much in the last 2 years; we chatted away while Charlotte hunted down a few goodies for the following day’s “road trip.” I was most excited for the cinnamon apple tea we picked up.
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We slept over at Rebecca’s place, sharing some tea late into the night, and then woke up ready for Belgium. We picked up another friend Charlotte made while studying in the US, named Stef, along with one of Charlotte’s childhood friends, Lydia, who was studying pharmacy in Belgium but visiting her parents in the Netherlands for the weekend. While in Antwerp, we did quite a bit of walking around. It’s located in the Dutch part of Belgium, and this was when I really started to notice what it feels like to be a “foreigner”—to be so unfamiliar with the language of a given place that one can just barely make out a single word in an entire conversation. It was humbling, to say the least.
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We visited a Jesuit church in Antwerp and were given a brief synopsis of its symbolic artwork, and we headed into a bar afterwards to play Scrabble. At night, we blasted some jams (High School Musical, Mr. Brightside, lots of Rihanna) on our way to the escape room. It was an interesting experience because Charlotte had to translate all that was said about the storyline. (It was all in Dutch). We didn’t escape, sadly, but it was such a THRILL to be so scared during the entirety of it! The lights fell down at certain points, dolls were flung from the ceiling, a creepy little girl kept giggling, and someone continued to bang on our door. (And I kept having to crawl into small spaces because I was the shortest one there).
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The following day, I was given a whole tour of Charlotte’s village. I learned about the many movies that have been filmed there (including the one she served as a background character for), witnessed people’s boat houses, saw the restaurant she works at, passed by the town’s mosque and church, entered charity shops (and bought myself a precious yellow scarf that had Gustav Klimt’s ‘The Kiss’ painted on it), and entered the village’s windmill! Lydia, who had traveled with us to Belgium the day prior, used to work in that windmill. Apparently, it’s not a huge deal to work in one in the Netherlands, since they’re everywhere. I saw a bunker that had been turned into a Bed & Breakfast, as well.
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As we drove to Amsterdam in the daylight, I got to see more bunkers scattered around in random places. Charlotte told me that one of her neighbors has a bunker in his backyard, and he has hosted a few spooky birthday parties for his kids in it. People are not allowed to do away with them or modify them externally in any way, but they can be entered and used for anything at whatever point.
In Amsterdam, we went to the Vegan Junk Food Bar (which is all the rage right now in The Netherlands). I tried kapsalon, which is a favorite late-night snack for many Dutchies. Charlotte rushed me over to a Stroopwaffel shop right after, and we munched on our desserts as we walked toward the meeting point for our last scheduled activity: a night boat tour of the city’s canals.
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The most fascinating part of the tour was hearing about how clean the water actually is—many people swim in it during the summer months. And, I’m not sure if the guide was being sarcastic when he said this, but he did admit that it is drinkable and looks like green tea inside of a cup. I was also curious to witness the leaning houses of Amsterdam, hear about the cat museum (where paintings of cats hang all over the place), and watch people in their boat houses.
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I can’t imagine growing up in one of those. What truly different lives people lead. That’s all I could think about during this ride, and it stayed in my mind on our ride back home. As quickly as it had all happened, I was back in the Amsterdam airport, heading home (it feels so good to say that) to Heathrow.
Life moves so fast! I’m trying to experience it all and stop and look around at the same time. I hope you are, too.
Big hugs,
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Rhi
The Global Gator 