If I had a dollar for every time someone guessed my accent wrong, I could probably afford to buy a house in California. (Okay, maybe just a down payment on a parking spot, but still.)
Being Dutch in the USA comes with a special talent: confusing the locals. The most common guesses? Australian, Scottish, and German. I’ll never understand how my guttural Dutch ‘G’ makes people think I wrangle kangaroos or wear kilts, but here we are.
When I finally reveal I’m from the Netherlands, the reactions range from polite nods to absolute confusion. A few will say, “Oh, Holland!” (which, let’s be real, is only half correct), but some will stare blankly as if I just made up a country on the spot.
I’ve had conversations where people genuinely asked me if the Netherlands was in Scandinavia. One person confidently told me it was “somewhere near Greenland.” And let’s not forget the classic, “Oh, you mean like Amsterdam?” as if that’s the only city we’ve got.
Geography, it seems, is not America’s strong suit. But hey, at least no one has asked me if we all wear wooden shoes (yet).
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