As a fellow immigrant in a European nation (Norway, in my case) that functions well, is safe, allows for financial stability, etc., etc., etc., I get it. Question for you: have you found your people? There are guaranteed others around you in a similar situation. Likely other Americans. Or Canadians (we work in a pinch, too). Build your community.
When I first moved to Norway, I tried to avoid other Canadians. “I didn’t move half way around the world to hang out with Canadians! 🙄” When it became apparent I was staying here, however, I started collecting all the Canadian (and American) friends I could find. And I now have a really awesome network that GETS IT. I know your husband’s awesome and you two are genuine besties, but that’s not enough. You need your community. Build it. 💕
Will it solve all your problems? No. You’re still going to miss your friends and family back home. (But you’d do that in Spain, too). And it won’t bring you your California mountains (neither will Spain…) But it’ll make a big difference with the loneliness. Plus, having someone to commiserate with (ie, enjoying a solid bitch fest) really does help.
Yes, I have been friend dating and attempting to build community for over five years. Six months after we moved here there was the pandemic, which for obvious reasons was a bit hard on the whole "build community" effort. I have gone to countless expat events, writing classes and events, community classes, language classes, all in English, which means of course they are internationals. I founded a recovery meeting in my community. I have hung out at parent groups both within my kids' Dutch schools and out of it, attended parties and events at my son's international school. I have gone on countless "friend dates." "Have I found my people?" Not so much.
The vast majority of internationals here are stopping by as expats. My husband and I are immigrants. Our kids are in Dutch schools (other than my teenager). We do not benefit from corporate benefits or tax rulings. Our lives here are fundamentally different. At one point I had a nice little group of friends, but they all moved away. I have one dear Dutch friend who will be my friend for life. I had an intermittent little "community" of Dutch moms in the neighborhood but that really fell apart as there was no substance there, and they probably felt it too, as they recently decided to exclude my family for no apparent reason from a community party that we have attended together for five years.
Of course my very first objective here was to build community, and in my past life, I never had a problem doing so. Mac and I are friendly and open people, we sort of "love everyone" until further notice.
But what I'm describing in this essay goes way, way past the obvious fix of building a network of people I vibe with. Yes, for whatever reason my efforts have largely failed here, at least once my first crew all moved away, but I have people I can call and hang out with, whine to/with, etc. What I'm talking about is a much deeper level of being, belonging, and sense of place. It is a way of existing in the world that's rigid and cold. It's a lack of openness, warmth, and genuine connection. I am always open to trying to create my own little world of what I seek, but The Netherlands largely beats such things out of people. It is not the norm here. It is not my lack of trying. I am a pretty smart person, and the jump from "I feel lonely and isolated," to "build community" was not a hard one for me. haha
I will give you an example to make this a little clearer: I spent an afternoon in southern France recently. Sitting on a terrace with Mac and my best friend of California, a very old woman next to us sparked a conversation with us. She was from the UK but had been in France for a long time. She heard I was a writer and my friend an artist. Another woman walks by and our elderly friend calls her over. That woman is an artist and mother of 7, also an international from the UK. She and I immediately "vibe." Just a sort of immediate recognition of, well, something, because she encountered us with realness. She says "let's have lunch." A week or two later when I'm passing back through that town, she and I have a long, meandering, brilliant lunch together, talking about things so real and honest. I will always see her when I go back. We connected on a deep, soulful level.
In five years in the Netherlands, I have not had a single experience that's even remotely along those lines. It's just not how things are here. You don't talk to strangers, and if you do, it's certainly not with any depth or intimacy. You don't make new friends because "I already have friends" (actual words I've heard from Dutchies). And yes, perhaps I'll get lucky and meet the international person here who desires this sort of warmth and openness, but most people who want that have left the fucking Netherlands. haha!
I want to add one more thing. Your comment hit something in me that made me a little defensive because it's essentially saying "You can fix this if you try hard enough," which is fine, I get it, but it is EXACTLY what I told myself for years, clung to for dear life, actually, fighting, fighting to keep trying, to keep believing it can be done if I just try hard enough -- and yet, it has all failed.
It took me years to actually accept that perhaps it is not me or my faults or lack of trying, which is in fact a much sadder and harder thing to accept, because it means what I was trying to say in this essay: It's beyond them and beyond me. We are simply not a fit. I moved to a place where I don't want to stay.
To be confronted with another "JUST TRY HARDER" message, after I've been beating myself silly with that for years, stings. This is not a critique of you - I'm more reflecting on my own reactions. In the world of advice giving, the risk is always that you tell somebody to try a tactic they've been trying for years, to no avail.
Glad you're here, Leila! I appreciate your insights.
And, this concludes my Russian novella of comment responses.
I can see how my comment comes across as “just try harder!” and totally understand why that would feel hurtful. I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention.
What I was trying to get at was that MY mistake when trying to build my community here in Norway (where the locals also tend to have the same “I don’t need any more friends; I’ve had the same group since I was three and that’s enough” mentality as the Dutch) was that I tried too hard to fit in with said locals. My personality, my way of socializing (full on, new besties for life kinda energy…) is very different than your average Norwegian. To be blunt, they find me off-putting. It was extremely disorienting when I would think I’d made a new friend only to have them cold shoulder me.
I came here alone and my first dating experience was also quite the nasty shock in the friends department. In Canada, new friendships were often formed through dating and meeting your new partner’s friend group. Even if the relationship didn’t work out, some of the friendships made during that time often did. That is NOT how it works in Norway. I had a bunch of friends through my first Norskie boyfriend and they were awesome! And then we broke up and holy F, I have never been so alone in the entirety of my life. (I used to go for jogs to this gorgeous lookout point near my apartment and just sit there and cry, I was so lonely). Even today, having been with my (Norwegian) husband for 16 years, if we split, his friends would be HIS friends, mine would be mine. It’s weird. And after 17 years of being in Norway, the vast majority of my friends are foreigners. I have Norwegian citizenship, yes, but I’ve come to realize I’ll never truly be Norwegian.
What I was (and am still, though rather ineloquently) trying to say, is that lack of effort is almost certainly not your problem, but direction might be. If you’re like me, you might have been trying to build your community by attempting to fit in with the locals, and that might be why it’s not working. It’s a clash of cultures that potentially isn’t bridgeable. I also get what you’re saying about expats, having had the same experience. I’d make friends, we’d have a great time for a while, and then they’d head off and I’d be back to square one.
Where I’ve now managed to find my community is with a group of women, some of whom are “failed expats” (came here intending to stay briefly and then ended up putting down roots), and the others married Norwegians and got “stuck” here. It took me close to a decade to work my way into that friend group. And, no, it’s not the same as it was with friends back home; as much as I love these ladies, we probably never would have connected in Canada or the US. 🤷♀️ But it makes it a whole lot less lonely for all of us, and they really are good people.
Another thing I hadn’t taken into consideration when posting my original comment was the extent to which alcohol plays a role in those early days of making friends. It shouldn’t make a difference, but realistically, it does. I don’t have personal experience with this potential barrier, so I don’t know to what degree it’s made it harder for you. And so, again, I’m sorry if my earlier comment came across as callous.
At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter what MY experience has been; that has no real bearing on your own. And I would never (intentionally, at least) belittle your struggles. I guess I’ll just end by saying I get why my comment caused you to be defensive. In the same token of honesty, your post caused me to panic a little because, although we’ve never actually met in person, I feel like you’re one of the friends I’ve made over here “across the pond.” I can relate to so much of what you’ve written regarding the ups and downs of living abroad. And reading that you might move triggered a rather irrational feeling of losing yet another fellow “pseudo expat,” in this life-in-odd-limbo-between-cultures I’m in. But above all, I hope you DO find your community. Even if it’s not in the Netherlands. ☺️
I also want to note that based on my experience of five years in the Netherlands (and my best friend there’s experience of 20 years) that it is HARD but not impossible. Five years is a short time in the rest of your life and you are figuring out what works and what doesn’t. If we go back, my plan is to focus on other Americans (my home culture people) and other international immigrants (having parallel issues). My best friend over there and I are both SUPER FRIENDLY people and tried very hard. I see her now at 20 years there with great friends from the US, Korea, UK, and Colombia. It was a long hard slog. The last five years for you were made worse for you by the pandemic but don’t give up. You deserve friends too.
Thank you, Janet. I really have spent countless hours observing, listening, thinking, trying to understand, and I came to this country with a wide-open heart and desire to accept everything (sounds silly but it's true); in fact, they could do no wrong! And again, there is so much I have learned here about how to be in the world; they have taught me so much and MY GOD am I more direct and clear in my communication! I LOVE always knowing where I stand with Dutch folks; I love not guessing if they mean it or they're "just being nice." haha THEY AREN'T. :)
Well… funnily enough ive just back from Amsterdam…
But… where I experienced the Dutch sensibility was working with several of them in a very competitive creative environment in a London office….English people are full of humour and passion….and fierce loyalty…
After a long time working alongside the very pleasant but pragmatic Dutch people…
I’ve been an expat most of my adult life. I’m European and have lived in a bunch of places in both Europe and the US. I’ve been ‘away’ far longer than I’ve been home, and can fully appreciate just how complicated it all is. At the beginning I was quite (embarrassingly) strident in my ‘here good, there (home) bad’ view of things, but as I’ve got older I’ve come to understand that there’s much more of a cost to my choice to be so far away than I ever would have imagined. It’s only as I age - and I threw kids into the mix - that it really came into focus. I was gaining something exciting and interesting and very publicly celebrated but I was also giving something deeply meaningful up. Having done this for ooh, 15 or so years, I can safely say that:
Everywhere is a little bit terrible and a little bit wonderful. What ends up being the right place for you often has way more to do with your particular circumstances at a particular moment in time and the viewpoint you bring, than the place itself. Some people would chew their arm off to be where you’re from, and feel the same way about their dreamy home countries as you do about yours. Everywhere is incredible. Everywhere sucks.
Being an expat often feels more free and peaceful than home because we get to choose what we engage and identify with and what to reject. If there’s a language barrier we can literally tune 70% of other people’s noise. Plus we get freed from the cultural baggage and shame that comes with bejng born and raised somewhere. We get to look at it with different eyes and bring a lighter energy to our experience. We get to write off the more troubling things as quirks or foibles or just ignore them completely. Because if it gets too gnarly, we can always leave.
Being in that third space - in a place but not of a place - can give you an incredible perspective but it can also be devastatingly lonely. As I’ve aged it feels more and more to me like wearing clothes that don’t quite fit. Maybe nobody else can tell but it rubs me and niggles me and never quite lets me get comfortable. There’s so much good stuff in that space, but it can also be very hard.
Kids make every choice so much more loaded and complicated. I think we can tell ourselves a lot of stories but it’s ultimately very hard to know what will end up being the thing that is best/worst for them. And what works for them now may end up being the thing they resent later on. We just have to take a punt. And know that our own happiness also impacts theirs.
What life feels like in the everyday, in the minutiae, will probably have much more of an impact on your happiness than the big, broad strokes things. The little things are obviously the huge things.
Northern European winters are miserable.
Americans are very good at claiming themselves and their country to be uniquely shit. Maybe to make sure nobody confuses you with those rabidly patriotic other guys? I’m very sorry to tell you that you’re truly not. You’re like everywhere and everyone else. Sometimes heaven, sometimes hell. For what it’s worth, Americans are one of the reasons I can not leave. You’re mostly really great and kind and open and warm and interested and friendly and chatty and I would struggle to go back to people who struggle to make eye contact with me. In my last few European tours it was pretty much only the Americans who went out of their way to make friends with me, despite me not being American. You have often been my life raft.
Sometimes the chemistry just isn’t there. It can look like a dream on paper but in person the spark just isn’t there. It’s not a lack of gratitude, it’s not a personal failing. It’s just the way of it.
Thank you. Great insights here. It's so funny, I came here and was downright LIVID at the USA, but absolutely fucking in love with Americans as a whole. We are friendly, chatty, warm people, and while we may strike the Dutch as fake and false (and of course we can be), we are generally warm people.
I think the "uniquely shit" part of the way we see our country is that we don't have so many of the basic rights and privileges that exist in other developed nations. Among developed nations I think we are in fact rather uniquely shit, and I think it's important that Americans realize that so they demand better. But on a cultural level, nah, we're the same shit as everybody else. :)
A lot of that is also in retaliation to American exceptionalism, which many of us grew up with, were deceived by, and it still influences so much of American culture. They scream that we are the "greatest country on earth" while we have no paid parental leave, guaranteed pensions or sick or holiday time, astronomically expensive healthcare, plus added super unique benefits (lol) of food deserts, for-profit prisons, kids getting shot in schools....so yeah, we are a bit uniquely shit in many ways, and it's important that Americans fight against the exceptionalism propaganda that encourages us to ignore it.
Yes yes yes. I appreciate your honesty here. As we have been considering a move abroad, I've been adamant that we should rent out our house, go for one year, and then reassess. Right now, ABSOLUTELY NO PART OF ME WANTS TO BE AN AMERICAN. But we don't know what we don't know. What if we leave for a year and I decide I want to live in America again? The idea seems so far-fetched as I struggle through the miasma of this existential nightmare that is this country. But. But. I live in Oregon, and have lived here for almost twenty-five years. And yet, when I visit my parents in New Hampshire, where I lived for the first eighteen years of my life, I truly feel HOME. The weather is HOME. The roads are HOME. The trees are HOME. And I don't think that any *more* time in Oregon will change that. I feel like the world is centered when I am in New Hampshire, that things are relatively as they should be. But would I ever move there? Hell no. It's such a paradox to know where your home is and simultaneously do not want to actually be there. Where is this balance? What to we derive from commitment to a better life, even when it feels... wrong? Something I have always appreciated about your writing is your realness. Life is not Instagram-friendly, and I'm not interested in trying to believe it is. When we got back into the states yesterday after our Netherlands adventure, I actually broke down crying in the customs line, feeling physically repelled from going back to the place where over 50% of the voting public takes issue with gay people and brown people and women people. But will I actually move? I have no idea. Absolutely no idea.
Maybe it's just the immigrant condition. My mom gave everything up to bring us to Canada from Macedonia and I saw her deep sense of loss and at the same time as her pride in raising us in a country with unlimited opportunities. She really was so lonely but what do you do as a mother? Your kids will be making their own decisions soon and then you can make a move possibly. Maybe you want to be a Snowbird? Atleast you have your husband, she didn't. Maybe have some American parties for those to experience what you loved about America. I've been to several immigrants friends homes who keep their culture alive and I love that.
I'm not an immigrant or expat. But I was wondering similar, thinking about the experience of my European ancestors immigrating in the early 20th century, leaving behind their home countries for life. I wonder if the immigrant experience is made harder in this modern era knowing that one can (theoretically, maybe not financially, or even safety-wise) travel back (more) easily via airplane to one's country of origin and so the discontent is exacerbated. As someone who has wrestled with relocating my family from the US, I very much appreciate the honest reflections shared in Janelle's blog and all the comments.
God I love your honesty. Thank you for this post which resonated with me on so many levels, and helped to clarify some thoughts about my own journey. I spent 10 years in England (I am Australian) and while I had some wonderful times, I never felt complete. Family, friends, culture and country create deep roots that can't be replicated. I've now been back home for 20 years and have only just started thinking I might like to go back for a holiday. I feel for you and hope you can find a way forward that gives you peace and happiness. Sending much love xx
Ive lived abroad since 2007. Never in a very well functioning country though 😅. So many trade offs. Always trade offs.
It’s funny what you write about because I spent five days in Norway in May and promptly realized that it would be an impossible place for me to live. The people were perfectly polite. But the entire energy of the place is not my energy. And although it drove me mad I also lived in a country that said “no pasa nada” and my personal favorite: “es lo que hay” (closest translation might be “it is your only option” although literally means “it is what there is”). Loved it in many ways, when i didnt want to scream. Made great friends. Had to leave once the carjackings and teargas and protests became daily occurrences. Now I live in a place where they use “tabernack” (tabernacle) as a curse word and its cold as hell but the kids school is a half mile away and we all have health care. And im in my early 40s so I also now miss my birthplace, which youre gonna love, which is Florida. The storms. The gators. The glorious amounts of water.
It’s complicated. It’s all very, very complicated.
My beautiful friend. You ARE the mountains, the rivers, the trees and the Pacific. Yes you are uprooted and transplanted and no, you should not come back. Thank you for being so damn vulnerable and writing anyway. Maybe it’s an age thing? I’m 41 and suddenly can’t imagine being anywhere but in the KY hills I’ve despised & rejected my entire fucking life haha. I hate it here…but I am just as bound to the grass & tree’s & rivers as we are bound to our Mother’s & Father’s. Make it make sense! Anyway, you’re not alone. Even with you being across the pond, we’re with you ♥️
Oh man, friend. I feel for you. If it helps, I live among family and soul friends in the city of my birth and I still feel lonely. Maybe it’s the human condition? Sending love.
Yes, Andi! I have travelled a lot outside of Canada and have lived on both coasts - Newfoundland and Vancouver B.C., which may as well be on a different planet, but when I retired I moved to the country, a scant 60 kms from my Toronto birthplace. After 13 years my neighbours still view me as an outsider.
Loneliness, which is the one word I would use to describe the author's long, beautifully written post, happens to us all, no matter where we are and sometimes no matter who we are with.
I relate as I did the opposite of you. Move to California in 2016 from Europe (UK) I never thought it would be easy but I really under estimated how long it would take to feel anything like at home. I also have 4 kids like you and left at a similar life stage to you approaching 40’s . My kids are 19 16 12 and 5. I miss the stability and safety or Europe a lot. And at times it’s pushed us to almost think about moving back. But I can’t get over California. It’s so bloody dreamy. It’s like a world in a state and 8 years in still have pinch me moments of the beauty I’m witnessing. Literally a mind blowing place. So I feel your pain on moving to the Netherlands. The flattest greyest most dull landscape wise in Europe. That’s a huuuge leap for you. I love visiting the Netherlands but living there would be so hard after this. So I totally hear you. What we trade is always so hard. I dream of moving back but can’t quite drag myself from this beautiful wild chaotic place.However beautiful Europe is it just doesn’t have the wild beauty of California. (In my opinion) every eco system spewing out into the next. I miss my family and friends my country my culture so much but California. Is a special old place so I think you have it harder than a lot of people!!! I’m friends with a ton of Europeans here who think the same. We’re kind of stuck loving it hating it. What can you do??
I wondered if/when you'd talk about this. I feel torn like this - same places, opposite move. That lonely heartache while you watch your children grow into their places. I have no useful answers (though Spain sounds possibly like the right direction) but am feeling this, too. Thank you for your honesty 🧡
I’m an American living in Germany, and I agree, it can be lonely. However, I feel so much more peaceful here than I ever did in the US. Sometimes I miss Costco though.
I MISS COSTCO DAILY. Why is that? I don’t even have a refrigerator big enough to hold one fucking item from Costco….haha! And yet, I’d kill a Costco trip :)
My heart is broken for you and I don't know if I've ever identified with someone more than I do you. We moved to Arizona in 2018 "pre-retirement." The desert southwest is absolutely gorgeous and every day I felt like I was on vacation at a lovely resort which was actually my home (probably closer to my dream home than is possible in reality). I fucking hated it. Every day I walked outside and felt the blissful sunlight and smelled the clean air and a smile immediately came to my face. Then I wanted to burst out crying and fling myself to the bottom of our pool. I thought I must be the most broken person alive to not be happily living my best life. We moved back "home " to Kentucky where I could talk to strangers as if I had known them all my life. It was heart wrenching to leave that sunshine and that house, but I got to spend my dad's last months with him. Every single day I think of the light and the home I thought only existed in my mind, but I still talk to strangers like I talk to friends. You are not alone, Janelle.
Misssssssed you! Ok now that that’s out of the way: This post is fascinating and heartbreaking and makes all the sense and no sense, and really what I’m trying to say is I appreciate you and all your nuances and ambivalences. Looking forward to reading more. xo
I can relate. My family lived in Canada for four years. It's hardly as humane a place as the Netherlands, but it's a hell of a lot better than the U.S., especially when you've got a kid with complex medical issues. From day one, we got far more support through our free health care plan than we got with our (bullshit) Cadillac plan back home (although, to be fair, we had to move back to the States to get coverage for a specialty surgery that Canadian insurance refused to pay for).
I used to look back at the States and wonder how anyone made life work there. However, I was also miserable in Canada. My reasons included all of those you listed (plus, too freaking cold). What I didn't bargain for was the racism.
What? Canadians aren't supposed to be racist. They're sure they are not.
I got a message last week from a former student at the business school where I taught. Hw wanted to apologize for how poorly his class treated me. (I still have flashbacks to that class.) After 10 years, I finally received validation of my sense that, yes, I was treated differently from the other professors. I wasn't being hypersensitive. I wasn't imagining the quiet hostility and blatant disrespect from students.
When I think of moving to Europe, I think of the time in France when I was harassed on the train by four police officers who didn't believe my ID was authentic. They didn't believe I was American. They certainly didn't think I was French. They told me the ticket I'd just paid for was invalid. They said I must've jumped the turnstile. They made me pay them a second train fare, in cash. I was in tears. They showed no sympathy. None of the other passengers blinked an eye.
When I think of moving to Europe, I think of the Dutch colleague in Canada who brushed me off when I complained about a student using a racial slur. I think of another Dutch colleague who told me she wished she was Black because Black people get all sorts of special opportunities.
I think of the growing strength of right-wing groups across Europe.
I can get all that crap right here. One reason I came home was that I could at least feel insulated from the racism here. I could live in an area with a lot more black and brown people. There's a sense of safety in numbers.
I know there's nowhere in the "developed" world I'm likely to feel safe. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not willing to risk it. If I decide to leave the U.S., it will be to somewhere black and brown faces are not uncommon and not unwelcome. Most of those places have a whole different set of gnarly problems and certainly don't offer high-quality, free healthcare. The options just don't look the same from where I sit.
Those experiences sound horrific. I'm so sorry you had to experience them (and I'm sure there are plenty more where they came from, and so sorry about them too). ♥️
Oh my I can relate to this post! Thank you for your honesty and rawness ❤️
My husband and I (both Canadian) moved to Bordeaux, France for his work in our late 20s. We had a ball travelling around Europe and yes, it was a an amazing adventure AND it was also profoundly hard, lonely and frustrating at times.
We had two kids there and I'm so grateful we did, the health care, daycare and parental support was much better than what we would have had access to even in Canada. But it was so far from their grandparents, we didn't have any local family to just "watch our kids for a day" like many people do and making friends with expats was relatively easy but with locals (even being bilingual) was TOUGH. And you don't realize how much you miss shared cultural references until you're the outsider.
In the end we moved back to Canada after 8 years and there's something that just felt so deeply right about being "home" (even though we moved to a part of the country neither of us had ever lived before).
Sending so much ❤️❤️❤️ as you puzzle through what's next.
As a fellow immigrant in a European nation (Norway, in my case) that functions well, is safe, allows for financial stability, etc., etc., etc., I get it. Question for you: have you found your people? There are guaranteed others around you in a similar situation. Likely other Americans. Or Canadians (we work in a pinch, too). Build your community.
When I first moved to Norway, I tried to avoid other Canadians. “I didn’t move half way around the world to hang out with Canadians! 🙄” When it became apparent I was staying here, however, I started collecting all the Canadian (and American) friends I could find. And I now have a really awesome network that GETS IT. I know your husband’s awesome and you two are genuine besties, but that’s not enough. You need your community. Build it. 💕
Will it solve all your problems? No. You’re still going to miss your friends and family back home. (But you’d do that in Spain, too). And it won’t bring you your California mountains (neither will Spain…) But it’ll make a big difference with the loneliness. Plus, having someone to commiserate with (ie, enjoying a solid bitch fest) really does help.
Yes, I have been friend dating and attempting to build community for over five years. Six months after we moved here there was the pandemic, which for obvious reasons was a bit hard on the whole "build community" effort. I have gone to countless expat events, writing classes and events, community classes, language classes, all in English, which means of course they are internationals. I founded a recovery meeting in my community. I have hung out at parent groups both within my kids' Dutch schools and out of it, attended parties and events at my son's international school. I have gone on countless "friend dates." "Have I found my people?" Not so much.
The vast majority of internationals here are stopping by as expats. My husband and I are immigrants. Our kids are in Dutch schools (other than my teenager). We do not benefit from corporate benefits or tax rulings. Our lives here are fundamentally different. At one point I had a nice little group of friends, but they all moved away. I have one dear Dutch friend who will be my friend for life. I had an intermittent little "community" of Dutch moms in the neighborhood but that really fell apart as there was no substance there, and they probably felt it too, as they recently decided to exclude my family for no apparent reason from a community party that we have attended together for five years.
Of course my very first objective here was to build community, and in my past life, I never had a problem doing so. Mac and I are friendly and open people, we sort of "love everyone" until further notice.
But what I'm describing in this essay goes way, way past the obvious fix of building a network of people I vibe with. Yes, for whatever reason my efforts have largely failed here, at least once my first crew all moved away, but I have people I can call and hang out with, whine to/with, etc. What I'm talking about is a much deeper level of being, belonging, and sense of place. It is a way of existing in the world that's rigid and cold. It's a lack of openness, warmth, and genuine connection. I am always open to trying to create my own little world of what I seek, but The Netherlands largely beats such things out of people. It is not the norm here. It is not my lack of trying. I am a pretty smart person, and the jump from "I feel lonely and isolated," to "build community" was not a hard one for me. haha
I will give you an example to make this a little clearer: I spent an afternoon in southern France recently. Sitting on a terrace with Mac and my best friend of California, a very old woman next to us sparked a conversation with us. She was from the UK but had been in France for a long time. She heard I was a writer and my friend an artist. Another woman walks by and our elderly friend calls her over. That woman is an artist and mother of 7, also an international from the UK. She and I immediately "vibe." Just a sort of immediate recognition of, well, something, because she encountered us with realness. She says "let's have lunch." A week or two later when I'm passing back through that town, she and I have a long, meandering, brilliant lunch together, talking about things so real and honest. I will always see her when I go back. We connected on a deep, soulful level.
In five years in the Netherlands, I have not had a single experience that's even remotely along those lines. It's just not how things are here. You don't talk to strangers, and if you do, it's certainly not with any depth or intimacy. You don't make new friends because "I already have friends" (actual words I've heard from Dutchies). And yes, perhaps I'll get lucky and meet the international person here who desires this sort of warmth and openness, but most people who want that have left the fucking Netherlands. haha!
I want to add one more thing. Your comment hit something in me that made me a little defensive because it's essentially saying "You can fix this if you try hard enough," which is fine, I get it, but it is EXACTLY what I told myself for years, clung to for dear life, actually, fighting, fighting to keep trying, to keep believing it can be done if I just try hard enough -- and yet, it has all failed.
It took me years to actually accept that perhaps it is not me or my faults or lack of trying, which is in fact a much sadder and harder thing to accept, because it means what I was trying to say in this essay: It's beyond them and beyond me. We are simply not a fit. I moved to a place where I don't want to stay.
To be confronted with another "JUST TRY HARDER" message, after I've been beating myself silly with that for years, stings. This is not a critique of you - I'm more reflecting on my own reactions. In the world of advice giving, the risk is always that you tell somebody to try a tactic they've been trying for years, to no avail.
Glad you're here, Leila! I appreciate your insights.
And, this concludes my Russian novella of comment responses.
I can see how my comment comes across as “just try harder!” and totally understand why that would feel hurtful. I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention.
What I was trying to get at was that MY mistake when trying to build my community here in Norway (where the locals also tend to have the same “I don’t need any more friends; I’ve had the same group since I was three and that’s enough” mentality as the Dutch) was that I tried too hard to fit in with said locals. My personality, my way of socializing (full on, new besties for life kinda energy…) is very different than your average Norwegian. To be blunt, they find me off-putting. It was extremely disorienting when I would think I’d made a new friend only to have them cold shoulder me.
I came here alone and my first dating experience was also quite the nasty shock in the friends department. In Canada, new friendships were often formed through dating and meeting your new partner’s friend group. Even if the relationship didn’t work out, some of the friendships made during that time often did. That is NOT how it works in Norway. I had a bunch of friends through my first Norskie boyfriend and they were awesome! And then we broke up and holy F, I have never been so alone in the entirety of my life. (I used to go for jogs to this gorgeous lookout point near my apartment and just sit there and cry, I was so lonely). Even today, having been with my (Norwegian) husband for 16 years, if we split, his friends would be HIS friends, mine would be mine. It’s weird. And after 17 years of being in Norway, the vast majority of my friends are foreigners. I have Norwegian citizenship, yes, but I’ve come to realize I’ll never truly be Norwegian.
What I was (and am still, though rather ineloquently) trying to say, is that lack of effort is almost certainly not your problem, but direction might be. If you’re like me, you might have been trying to build your community by attempting to fit in with the locals, and that might be why it’s not working. It’s a clash of cultures that potentially isn’t bridgeable. I also get what you’re saying about expats, having had the same experience. I’d make friends, we’d have a great time for a while, and then they’d head off and I’d be back to square one.
Where I’ve now managed to find my community is with a group of women, some of whom are “failed expats” (came here intending to stay briefly and then ended up putting down roots), and the others married Norwegians and got “stuck” here. It took me close to a decade to work my way into that friend group. And, no, it’s not the same as it was with friends back home; as much as I love these ladies, we probably never would have connected in Canada or the US. 🤷♀️ But it makes it a whole lot less lonely for all of us, and they really are good people.
Another thing I hadn’t taken into consideration when posting my original comment was the extent to which alcohol plays a role in those early days of making friends. It shouldn’t make a difference, but realistically, it does. I don’t have personal experience with this potential barrier, so I don’t know to what degree it’s made it harder for you. And so, again, I’m sorry if my earlier comment came across as callous.
At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter what MY experience has been; that has no real bearing on your own. And I would never (intentionally, at least) belittle your struggles. I guess I’ll just end by saying I get why my comment caused you to be defensive. In the same token of honesty, your post caused me to panic a little because, although we’ve never actually met in person, I feel like you’re one of the friends I’ve made over here “across the pond.” I can relate to so much of what you’ve written regarding the ups and downs of living abroad. And reading that you might move triggered a rather irrational feeling of losing yet another fellow “pseudo expat,” in this life-in-odd-limbo-between-cultures I’m in. But above all, I hope you DO find your community. Even if it’s not in the Netherlands. ☺️
I also want to note that based on my experience of five years in the Netherlands (and my best friend there’s experience of 20 years) that it is HARD but not impossible. Five years is a short time in the rest of your life and you are figuring out what works and what doesn’t. If we go back, my plan is to focus on other Americans (my home culture people) and other international immigrants (having parallel issues). My best friend over there and I are both SUPER FRIENDLY people and tried very hard. I see her now at 20 years there with great friends from the US, Korea, UK, and Colombia. It was a long hard slog. The last five years for you were made worse for you by the pandemic but don’t give up. You deserve friends too.
Janelle I think you are describing Dutch people and their sensibility very very very well. I totally understand. You are not imagining it.
Thank you, Janet. I really have spent countless hours observing, listening, thinking, trying to understand, and I came to this country with a wide-open heart and desire to accept everything (sounds silly but it's true); in fact, they could do no wrong! And again, there is so much I have learned here about how to be in the world; they have taught me so much and MY GOD am I more direct and clear in my communication! I LOVE always knowing where I stand with Dutch folks; I love not guessing if they mean it or they're "just being nice." haha THEY AREN'T. :)
Well… funnily enough ive just back from Amsterdam…
But… where I experienced the Dutch sensibility was working with several of them in a very competitive creative environment in a London office….English people are full of humour and passion….and fierce loyalty…
After a long time working alongside the very pleasant but pragmatic Dutch people…
We just referred to them as
The Head Prefects.
"THE HEAD PREFECTS" OH MY GOD!!!! In those three words you've spoken such VOLUMES!!!!
Janelle! Yes! Oh my goodness yes.
I’ve been an expat most of my adult life. I’m European and have lived in a bunch of places in both Europe and the US. I’ve been ‘away’ far longer than I’ve been home, and can fully appreciate just how complicated it all is. At the beginning I was quite (embarrassingly) strident in my ‘here good, there (home) bad’ view of things, but as I’ve got older I’ve come to understand that there’s much more of a cost to my choice to be so far away than I ever would have imagined. It’s only as I age - and I threw kids into the mix - that it really came into focus. I was gaining something exciting and interesting and very publicly celebrated but I was also giving something deeply meaningful up. Having done this for ooh, 15 or so years, I can safely say that:
Everywhere is a little bit terrible and a little bit wonderful. What ends up being the right place for you often has way more to do with your particular circumstances at a particular moment in time and the viewpoint you bring, than the place itself. Some people would chew their arm off to be where you’re from, and feel the same way about their dreamy home countries as you do about yours. Everywhere is incredible. Everywhere sucks.
Being an expat often feels more free and peaceful than home because we get to choose what we engage and identify with and what to reject. If there’s a language barrier we can literally tune 70% of other people’s noise. Plus we get freed from the cultural baggage and shame that comes with bejng born and raised somewhere. We get to look at it with different eyes and bring a lighter energy to our experience. We get to write off the more troubling things as quirks or foibles or just ignore them completely. Because if it gets too gnarly, we can always leave.
Being in that third space - in a place but not of a place - can give you an incredible perspective but it can also be devastatingly lonely. As I’ve aged it feels more and more to me like wearing clothes that don’t quite fit. Maybe nobody else can tell but it rubs me and niggles me and never quite lets me get comfortable. There’s so much good stuff in that space, but it can also be very hard.
Kids make every choice so much more loaded and complicated. I think we can tell ourselves a lot of stories but it’s ultimately very hard to know what will end up being the thing that is best/worst for them. And what works for them now may end up being the thing they resent later on. We just have to take a punt. And know that our own happiness also impacts theirs.
What life feels like in the everyday, in the minutiae, will probably have much more of an impact on your happiness than the big, broad strokes things. The little things are obviously the huge things.
Northern European winters are miserable.
Americans are very good at claiming themselves and their country to be uniquely shit. Maybe to make sure nobody confuses you with those rabidly patriotic other guys? I’m very sorry to tell you that you’re truly not. You’re like everywhere and everyone else. Sometimes heaven, sometimes hell. For what it’s worth, Americans are one of the reasons I can not leave. You’re mostly really great and kind and open and warm and interested and friendly and chatty and I would struggle to go back to people who struggle to make eye contact with me. In my last few European tours it was pretty much only the Americans who went out of their way to make friends with me, despite me not being American. You have often been my life raft.
Sometimes the chemistry just isn’t there. It can look like a dream on paper but in person the spark just isn’t there. It’s not a lack of gratitude, it’s not a personal failing. It’s just the way of it.
Sending so much love from the awkward place!
Thank you. Great insights here. It's so funny, I came here and was downright LIVID at the USA, but absolutely fucking in love with Americans as a whole. We are friendly, chatty, warm people, and while we may strike the Dutch as fake and false (and of course we can be), we are generally warm people.
I think the "uniquely shit" part of the way we see our country is that we don't have so many of the basic rights and privileges that exist in other developed nations. Among developed nations I think we are in fact rather uniquely shit, and I think it's important that Americans realize that so they demand better. But on a cultural level, nah, we're the same shit as everybody else. :)
A lot of that is also in retaliation to American exceptionalism, which many of us grew up with, were deceived by, and it still influences so much of American culture. They scream that we are the "greatest country on earth" while we have no paid parental leave, guaranteed pensions or sick or holiday time, astronomically expensive healthcare, plus added super unique benefits (lol) of food deserts, for-profit prisons, kids getting shot in schools....so yeah, we are a bit uniquely shit in many ways, and it's important that Americans fight against the exceptionalism propaganda that encourages us to ignore it.
Yes yes yes. I appreciate your honesty here. As we have been considering a move abroad, I've been adamant that we should rent out our house, go for one year, and then reassess. Right now, ABSOLUTELY NO PART OF ME WANTS TO BE AN AMERICAN. But we don't know what we don't know. What if we leave for a year and I decide I want to live in America again? The idea seems so far-fetched as I struggle through the miasma of this existential nightmare that is this country. But. But. I live in Oregon, and have lived here for almost twenty-five years. And yet, when I visit my parents in New Hampshire, where I lived for the first eighteen years of my life, I truly feel HOME. The weather is HOME. The roads are HOME. The trees are HOME. And I don't think that any *more* time in Oregon will change that. I feel like the world is centered when I am in New Hampshire, that things are relatively as they should be. But would I ever move there? Hell no. It's such a paradox to know where your home is and simultaneously do not want to actually be there. Where is this balance? What to we derive from commitment to a better life, even when it feels... wrong? Something I have always appreciated about your writing is your realness. Life is not Instagram-friendly, and I'm not interested in trying to believe it is. When we got back into the states yesterday after our Netherlands adventure, I actually broke down crying in the customs line, feeling physically repelled from going back to the place where over 50% of the voting public takes issue with gay people and brown people and women people. But will I actually move? I have no idea. Absolutely no idea.
Welp, you took the words right outta my mouth, Kerry.
Maybe it's just the immigrant condition. My mom gave everything up to bring us to Canada from Macedonia and I saw her deep sense of loss and at the same time as her pride in raising us in a country with unlimited opportunities. She really was so lonely but what do you do as a mother? Your kids will be making their own decisions soon and then you can make a move possibly. Maybe you want to be a Snowbird? Atleast you have your husband, she didn't. Maybe have some American parties for those to experience what you loved about America. I've been to several immigrants friends homes who keep their culture alive and I love that.
I'm not an immigrant or expat. But I was wondering similar, thinking about the experience of my European ancestors immigrating in the early 20th century, leaving behind their home countries for life. I wonder if the immigrant experience is made harder in this modern era knowing that one can (theoretically, maybe not financially, or even safety-wise) travel back (more) easily via airplane to one's country of origin and so the discontent is exacerbated. As someone who has wrestled with relocating my family from the US, I very much appreciate the honest reflections shared in Janelle's blog and all the comments.
God I love your honesty. Thank you for this post which resonated with me on so many levels, and helped to clarify some thoughts about my own journey. I spent 10 years in England (I am Australian) and while I had some wonderful times, I never felt complete. Family, friends, culture and country create deep roots that can't be replicated. I've now been back home for 20 years and have only just started thinking I might like to go back for a holiday. I feel for you and hope you can find a way forward that gives you peace and happiness. Sending much love xx
Ive lived abroad since 2007. Never in a very well functioning country though 😅. So many trade offs. Always trade offs.
It’s funny what you write about because I spent five days in Norway in May and promptly realized that it would be an impossible place for me to live. The people were perfectly polite. But the entire energy of the place is not my energy. And although it drove me mad I also lived in a country that said “no pasa nada” and my personal favorite: “es lo que hay” (closest translation might be “it is your only option” although literally means “it is what there is”). Loved it in many ways, when i didnt want to scream. Made great friends. Had to leave once the carjackings and teargas and protests became daily occurrences. Now I live in a place where they use “tabernack” (tabernacle) as a curse word and its cold as hell but the kids school is a half mile away and we all have health care. And im in my early 40s so I also now miss my birthplace, which youre gonna love, which is Florida. The storms. The gators. The glorious amounts of water.
It’s complicated. It’s all very, very complicated.
My beautiful friend. You ARE the mountains, the rivers, the trees and the Pacific. Yes you are uprooted and transplanted and no, you should not come back. Thank you for being so damn vulnerable and writing anyway. Maybe it’s an age thing? I’m 41 and suddenly can’t imagine being anywhere but in the KY hills I’ve despised & rejected my entire fucking life haha. I hate it here…but I am just as bound to the grass & tree’s & rivers as we are bound to our Mother’s & Father’s. Make it make sense! Anyway, you’re not alone. Even with you being across the pond, we’re with you ♥️
Hiiiii, Christina! And thank you. I do think there's an age element -- I'll have to think about it more.
Oh man, friend. I feel for you. If it helps, I live among family and soul friends in the city of my birth and I still feel lonely. Maybe it’s the human condition? Sending love.
Yes, Andi! I have travelled a lot outside of Canada and have lived on both coasts - Newfoundland and Vancouver B.C., which may as well be on a different planet, but when I retired I moved to the country, a scant 60 kms from my Toronto birthplace. After 13 years my neighbours still view me as an outsider.
Loneliness, which is the one word I would use to describe the author's long, beautifully written post, happens to us all, no matter where we are and sometimes no matter who we are with.
I relate as I did the opposite of you. Move to California in 2016 from Europe (UK) I never thought it would be easy but I really under estimated how long it would take to feel anything like at home. I also have 4 kids like you and left at a similar life stage to you approaching 40’s . My kids are 19 16 12 and 5. I miss the stability and safety or Europe a lot. And at times it’s pushed us to almost think about moving back. But I can’t get over California. It’s so bloody dreamy. It’s like a world in a state and 8 years in still have pinch me moments of the beauty I’m witnessing. Literally a mind blowing place. So I feel your pain on moving to the Netherlands. The flattest greyest most dull landscape wise in Europe. That’s a huuuge leap for you. I love visiting the Netherlands but living there would be so hard after this. So I totally hear you. What we trade is always so hard. I dream of moving back but can’t quite drag myself from this beautiful wild chaotic place.However beautiful Europe is it just doesn’t have the wild beauty of California. (In my opinion) every eco system spewing out into the next. I miss my family and friends my country my culture so much but California. Is a special old place so I think you have it harder than a lot of people!!! I’m friends with a ton of Europeans here who think the same. We’re kind of stuck loving it hating it. What can you do??
I wondered if/when you'd talk about this. I feel torn like this - same places, opposite move. That lonely heartache while you watch your children grow into their places. I have no useful answers (though Spain sounds possibly like the right direction) but am feeling this, too. Thank you for your honesty 🧡
JANELLE. Yes. More please. Nuance and complexity and truth. Whatever you write, I'm here for it.
Thank you, Ellen! Great to see you here.
I’m an American living in Germany, and I agree, it can be lonely. However, I feel so much more peaceful here than I ever did in the US. Sometimes I miss Costco though.
I MISS COSTCO DAILY. Why is that? I don’t even have a refrigerator big enough to hold one fucking item from Costco….haha! And yet, I’d kill a Costco trip :)
The euro version of Disneyland ;-)
My heart is broken for you and I don't know if I've ever identified with someone more than I do you. We moved to Arizona in 2018 "pre-retirement." The desert southwest is absolutely gorgeous and every day I felt like I was on vacation at a lovely resort which was actually my home (probably closer to my dream home than is possible in reality). I fucking hated it. Every day I walked outside and felt the blissful sunlight and smelled the clean air and a smile immediately came to my face. Then I wanted to burst out crying and fling myself to the bottom of our pool. I thought I must be the most broken person alive to not be happily living my best life. We moved back "home " to Kentucky where I could talk to strangers as if I had known them all my life. It was heart wrenching to leave that sunshine and that house, but I got to spend my dad's last months with him. Every single day I think of the light and the home I thought only existed in my mind, but I still talk to strangers like I talk to friends. You are not alone, Janelle.
Misssssssed you! Ok now that that’s out of the way: This post is fascinating and heartbreaking and makes all the sense and no sense, and really what I’m trying to say is I appreciate you and all your nuances and ambivalences. Looking forward to reading more. xo
Thank you, Dana! That sense/no sense situation is really where I've been for a few years now.
I can relate. My family lived in Canada for four years. It's hardly as humane a place as the Netherlands, but it's a hell of a lot better than the U.S., especially when you've got a kid with complex medical issues. From day one, we got far more support through our free health care plan than we got with our (bullshit) Cadillac plan back home (although, to be fair, we had to move back to the States to get coverage for a specialty surgery that Canadian insurance refused to pay for).
I used to look back at the States and wonder how anyone made life work there. However, I was also miserable in Canada. My reasons included all of those you listed (plus, too freaking cold). What I didn't bargain for was the racism.
What? Canadians aren't supposed to be racist. They're sure they are not.
I got a message last week from a former student at the business school where I taught. Hw wanted to apologize for how poorly his class treated me. (I still have flashbacks to that class.) After 10 years, I finally received validation of my sense that, yes, I was treated differently from the other professors. I wasn't being hypersensitive. I wasn't imagining the quiet hostility and blatant disrespect from students.
When I think of moving to Europe, I think of the time in France when I was harassed on the train by four police officers who didn't believe my ID was authentic. They didn't believe I was American. They certainly didn't think I was French. They told me the ticket I'd just paid for was invalid. They said I must've jumped the turnstile. They made me pay them a second train fare, in cash. I was in tears. They showed no sympathy. None of the other passengers blinked an eye.
When I think of moving to Europe, I think of the Dutch colleague in Canada who brushed me off when I complained about a student using a racial slur. I think of another Dutch colleague who told me she wished she was Black because Black people get all sorts of special opportunities.
I think of the growing strength of right-wing groups across Europe.
I can get all that crap right here. One reason I came home was that I could at least feel insulated from the racism here. I could live in an area with a lot more black and brown people. There's a sense of safety in numbers.
I know there's nowhere in the "developed" world I'm likely to feel safe. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not willing to risk it. If I decide to leave the U.S., it will be to somewhere black and brown faces are not uncommon and not unwelcome. Most of those places have a whole different set of gnarly problems and certainly don't offer high-quality, free healthcare. The options just don't look the same from where I sit.
Those experiences sound horrific. I'm so sorry you had to experience them (and I'm sure there are plenty more where they came from, and so sorry about them too). ♥️
Oh my I can relate to this post! Thank you for your honesty and rawness ❤️
My husband and I (both Canadian) moved to Bordeaux, France for his work in our late 20s. We had a ball travelling around Europe and yes, it was a an amazing adventure AND it was also profoundly hard, lonely and frustrating at times.
We had two kids there and I'm so grateful we did, the health care, daycare and parental support was much better than what we would have had access to even in Canada. But it was so far from their grandparents, we didn't have any local family to just "watch our kids for a day" like many people do and making friends with expats was relatively easy but with locals (even being bilingual) was TOUGH. And you don't realize how much you miss shared cultural references until you're the outsider.
In the end we moved back to Canada after 8 years and there's something that just felt so deeply right about being "home" (even though we moved to a part of the country neither of us had ever lived before).
Sending so much ❤️❤️❤️ as you puzzle through what's next.