Return of the ExPats: Now Featuring One Very Angry Cat

Hello from the Land of Gouda, bikes, and tasteless fruit!

The Eynon family has officially returned to the Netherlands after surviving 6+ weeks in the United States. We came, we saw, we conquered Safeway. And we did about three months’ worth of “life admin” in one jet-lagged sprint, so coming back to our adopted Dutch home feels a little like dropping into a spa (one where the toilet paper doubles as exfoliant, but still).

Operation: Cat Extraction (aka Schrodinger’s Cat, Transatlantic Edition)

Now, let’s talk about the real MVP of our return journey: Chonkles the Cat. Who, thanks to conflicting international veterinary requirements, existed in a bureaucratic limbo for several days (credit to Noel for the Schrodinger reference). As a reminder, the USDA wanted her examined at least 14 days before travel. The Netherlands wanted her examined within 10 days of leaving. Cue the international game of “Who’s Gonna Blink First?”

Thankfully, our vet is apparently part medical professional, part miracle worker, and managed to pull some strings. The USDA-approved certificate arrived via FedEx 90 minutes before our ride to the airport. Honestly, I haven't known that kind of adrenaline since the last time I drove over highway 17 in the rain.

A Brief Interlude of Sentimentality (Don’t Worry, It Won’t Last)

While we waited for Chonkles’ official papers, we did a final walkthrough of our old house—where we spent over a decade making memories while slowly acquiring way too many mismatched Tupperware lids. It was peaceful. It was nostalgic. It was emotional. Then FedEx showed up and the moment passed.

Serenity was nowhere to be found on the actual 10-hour flight—because we brought a cat who had Opinions.  Despite giving Chonkles a mild sedative (or what turned out to be cat Tic Tacs), she expressed her strong, unwavering opposition to air travel with the type of nonstop howling usually reserved for haunted forest scenes in horror movies.  Who knew a cat could actually howl for 10 straight hours?

I tried to reason with her: “Chonkles, we get it. This is terrible. We, too, hate being in a pressurized metal tube for hours on end. But unless you know how to open the emergency exit midair—you’re just going to have to cope like the rest of us: by silently resenting the airline’s snack options.”  Mercifully, the plane was half empty, so our disturbance only reached half as many innocent bystanders. Sorry, everyone. Next time we’ll bring noise-cancelling headphones for everyone

We Made It: Somehow.

The good news: we didn’t get caught in the United Airlines cancellation apocalypse that hit shortly after our flight. Clearly, our last drop of cosmic favor was used sparing us that fate. The bad news: we are now back in a country where the stairs are vertical ladders, the fruit is basically flavorless, and the toilet paper has the texture of 18th-century parchment.

Other observations from re-entry:

• The doorknobs are still suspiciously high. (Why? Did giants roam this land 20 years ago?)

• The streets are eerily quiet. It’s August in the Netherlands, which means the entire country is either on a beach in Spain or hiding in their garden pretending not to be home.

Weird twist: I might actually like August in the Netherlands. The ghost-town vibe is oddly calming.

Status Update:

• Alex and his friends are back to being feral in the city like local teens who never experienced a carpool in their lives.

• Chonkles is adjusting to her new European lifestyle: she’s already judging us from windowsills and planning to file a formal complaint with the EU, which she’ll have to wait 5 days to hear back about.

• Mike and I are settling in just fine.

Final Thought:

We’re here. We’re jet-lagged. We’re re-learning how to drive in the land of roundabouts. And yes, our cat is now officially Dutch. May God help the local mice.

Chonkles chillaxing in her new environs