Dutch people are known for their directness. An American might say, "That's an interesting approach," when they think your idea is terrible. A Dutch person will say, "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. It has the intellectual merit of a concussed goldfish. I worry about the education system that produced you," and then invite you for coffee,
Dutch people are known for their directness. An American might say, "That's an interesting approach," when they think your idea is terrible. A Dutch person will say, "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. It has the intellectual merit of a concussed goldfish. I worry about the education system that produced you," and then invite you for coffee,
In America, the cashier asked how my day was going, and I started telling them about all about my problematic morning. Their smile became so frozen it could have preserved mammoth DNA for future cloning experiments. I realized they didn't actually want to know—they wanted me to say "hello" and move on with the efficiency of a NASCAR pit crew. In the Netherlands, no one asks unless they're prepared for the unvarnished truth, possibly with graphs, statistical analysis, and a PowerPoint presentation with too many animations.
Unexpected Differences That Still Baffle Me
- Americans have medication commercials that spend 15 seconds discussing benefits and 45 seconds listing potential side effects including "spontaneous tap dancing," "temporary belief you're a garden gnome," and "death, but in an interesting new way doctors haven't seen before."
- Dutch people will congratulate you on your birthday, but also congratulate your family members on YOUR birthday. "Congratulations on your son turning 30!" Why? I didn't do anything except get older! What's next, congratulating my mailman because I successfully avoided death for another year?
- American portion sizes are measured in "how many Dutch families could this feed?" The answer is usually three families, plus their neighbors, plus all the attendees at little Sven's soccer practice. I once ordered a "small" soda that came in a container I could have used as a hot tub.
- Dutch stairs in old houses aren't stairs; they're medieval torture devices that somehow gained building code approval. They're so steep that going down them requires technical climbing equipment, a signed waiver, and your next of kin on speed dial. They're basically ladders that went to finishing school.
- Americans say they're "just a few minutes away" when they're actually halfway across the state, possibly even in another time zone. A Dutch person would provide their GPS coordinates, estimated time of arrival down to the second, the current wind speed affecting their bicycle velocity, and a small dissertation on the traffic patterns they expect to encounter.
So there you have it - my observations from living in two very different but equally perplexing countries. Whether you're dealing with stairs that might kill you faster than American healthcare prices, or trying to decipher if "59°F" means "beach day" or "bundle up like you're summiting Everest," at least we can all agree on one thing: we mutually find each other's customs completely absurd.
And isn't that what brings humanity together? That, and our shared confusion about what exactly goes into Dutch licorice that makes it taste like a tire fire seasoned with salt
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