Paranoia vs. the usual life

I think that if my Dutch friends would know what goes on in my mind half the time they would be shocked, baffled and not my friends anymore.

Safety is a daily chore (or even choice) for me, in stark conflict with European-born-and-bred friends.

I am always aware.
Of the car driving behind me, the pedestrian stopping at the red light and the person shopping a little too close to me.
The guy coming out of the lift smiling a little too friendly.
The woman staring at me on the tram.
And even the teenager watching me from the opposite side of the tram rails.

Now, I have been accused of being paranoid.
But as a good friend once said: “Just because you´re paranoid, doesn´t mean they are not out to get you.”

Ok, jokes aside. I am a thousand percent more aware than the standard person here. And I would like to believe that it would protect, or even rescue me one day.

But as you can imagine, it also brings a burden. It is not relaxing being so alert all the time. I always think twice before driving at night – something that almost never crosses anyone´s mind here. I double check the lock on my door – which is apparently good in Amsterdam! And I don´t like walking around after dark.

But one thing is sure: it is all I know. It is a life that I am used to. And I doubt if any amount of years living here will ever get that out of me.

Lunch... munch...

Lunch is an exciting adventure in the Netherlands. Or not. I am yet to decide. Let me tell you:

Everyday there are of course the usual temptations like a crunchy kroket or an “uitsmijter” - bread with eggs and cheese. But in principle the standard Dutch lunch is made of a cheese sandwich. Über traditional. With a glass of milk and piece of fruit or yoghurt.

Although I do like the odd cheese sandwich, I do opt for something more exclusive.

And although I long for the long lunches with colleagues at Primi consisting of gorgonzola panzerotti washed down with copious amounts of white wine (or spritzers if there are clients involved) – I like my new habit: Sandwich Healthy (literally translated). It contains ham, cheese, boiled egg, cheese, tomato, salad and lotsa salt and pepper. All tastefully arranged on a traingular bun packed with pumpkin seeds.

I know, it sounds all to green, organic and “packed-with-goodness” for me (someone who can tuck into a Steers burger like there is no tomorrow!), but still. I like it. Even the early memories of egg-sandwiches (rotten in a schoolbag) don't deter me from this delicacy.

And I have found the perfect chef for half-time. The lady at Bakkerij Bart. She looks like something from a pop-punk-rock-band from the early nineties. Scary, to say the least. She always asks the same questions, but also always makes my sandwich in exactly the same fashion: Butter smeared with a spoon, slice 'o ham, slice o'cheese, salt, pepper, three slices of tomato and heaps of lettuce. Warpped in a serviette. In the bag. Hit the till. Add a bottle of water and off I go! Yumminess in 3 minutes. Of course excluding the queue that usually lasts about 20 minutes. Unfortunately I am not the only admirer of Annie Lennox-turned-sandwich-extraodinaire.

If I think back now, I can barely remember what I had for lunch in Johannesburg (except for the catered ones!). What did we have for a normal lunch in? Hamburgers? Toasted cheese? It is a distant memory.

Here lunch is an institution. Lunch at 1 is a sin. It starts at 12. No arguing. No meetings and no interruptions. It is almost holy.

I have learned to like it.
Embrace it.
Even enforce it.

Just last week I had someone trying to schedule a meeting at 12.30. I paused... brought up the subject of lunch, and promptly the meeting was re-scheduled to 1. Amazing. I love the practicality of the Dutch.

I did however found it strange that I had to mention it...