From California Chaos to Dutch Discomfort: A Tale of Furniture, Friends, and Fake Smiles

Well, it’s official: we’ve survived three weeks back in California, which is about 20 days longer than I thought we’d last before spontaneously combusting from stress. Who knew that purging your entire life down to one lonely table (the Chosen One, now destined for a new life in the Netherlands) and a few boxes could be so much work? But hey, we did it! The house is on the market, and now we get to play that fun game called “Let’s See What Happens!” Spoiler alert: it mostly involves sitting around and pretending not to refresh Zillow every five minutes.

The house after all of the cleanup.

The Great Couch Surfing Tour

One of the highlights has been catching up with friends—by which I mean shamelessly mooching off their hospitality. Huge shoutout to Pete & Kate and Susan & Greg, who have graciously allowed us to invade their homes after we were evicted from our own. (Okay, technically we moved out, but “evicted” sounds more dramatic.)

Special mention goes to the cat, who has now been packed up and relocated three times: first to Pete’s, then to Susan’s, and then—plot twist—back to Pete’s. By the time we drag her to Amsterdam, she’ll be ready to write her own travel blog. “Confessions of a Reluctant Feline Nomad”.

Honestly, when we lived here before, we only saw Greg & Susan or Pete & Kate for the occasional dinner. Now, we’re basically running a nightly Scrabble/pool marathon, and I have to say, there’s something magical about spending actual time with people you care about. 

Culture Shock: American Edition

Before we came back, I wondered what would feel different about the US after a year away. As predicted, the food tastes better and my heart rejoices at the sight of mountains and pine trees. But the real shocker? The people. Americans are so… vibrant. By which I mean, they will talk to you. Like, really talk to you.

Case in point: I waltzed into a grocery store (which, by the way, is approximately the size of a small Dutch village) and the cashier greeted me with, “Hi there! How’s your day going?” in a tone so cheerful I suspected caffeine abuse. Naturally, I responded in kind, and next thing you know, we’re chatting up a storm. Try that in the Netherlands and you’ll get a look that says, “Why are you speaking to me? Are you lost?”

The Dutch, bless them, think American friendliness is “fake.” I can practically hear them now: “Why would you be happy to see this person? You’ve never met him before.” To which I say: why not? If I have to stand in line for ten minutes, I might as well try to enjoy it.

Of course, Americans don’t hide their bad moods, either. If someone’s having a bad day, you’ll know. In the Netherlands, they’d probably just silently judge you and complain about it to their friends later.

Emotional Withdrawal & Other Fun Games

With several years in Europe ahead of us, I’m already wondering if I’ll start craving these emotionally-charged American interactions. Maybe I’ll need regular video calls just to get my fix of over-the-top positivity. “Hi! How are you? No, really, HOW ARE YOU?” It’s basically therapy.

The Waiting Game

For now, we’re in a holding pattern. The house is listed, Alex is hanging out with friends, Mike’s off in London on a work trip, and I’m catching up with people I’ve missed. In a couple of weeks, we’ll do the grand tour: Mike and Alex to the Wisconsin air show with Pete, then all of us to Phoenix for my brother, Vegas for Mike’s dad, all while we're hoping the cat doesn’t think we went back to Europe without her.

Until then, we’ll enjoy random encounters with people who seem genuinely happy to see us. Or maybe they’re just faking it. Honestly, at this point, I’ll take it either way.