Nowhere to go but out

So, as established in the last post, there's not much room to stretch in The Netherlands.

This affects the communal psyche of the country in a bunch of ways, but one I noticed straight away is the number of kids (pre-teens and highschoolers) who hang out on the street at all hours of the day and night.

I wondered, like many Dutch people do, where are their parents?  Who is looking after these kids and wondering where they are at midnight on a Tuesday?  No wonder there's a problem with hooliganism in The Netherlands - the kids are running around with no supervision at all hours.

At some point I put my crotchety old woman hat in the bottom drawer and put my journalist hat where it should have been all along - on my head.

It seems to me that these kids (and their parents) just want a little space of their own.  At home, especially in poorer neighbourhoods, there's no room to grow or spread out.  If Mom or Dad is watching a show on TV, someone else is cooking dinner and your little sibling refuses to leave your shared bedroom...chances are you're looking for any escape.

I lived down the street from a skatepark - a common meeting place for the teenagers in the neighbourhood to get together and ... be teenagers.  It was loud sometimes and they weren't always super polite when I walked by, but after my little epiphany - and when I remembered I was only there for four months - I tried to cut them a little slack.

The problem is that, if you live in an area where kids are yelling at all hours of the night, playing music and trying to show off for their friends, then your patience may wear a little thin.  The other issue is that most kids who don't want to be at home but don't have anywhere else to go are immigrants and, in the Netherlands, you're automatically a trouble-maker if you come from Turkey, Morocco or Suriname.  Now, it's not only the immigrant kids who hang out on the street...but they're the ones who get the bad name.

And so it went that I was introduced to intolerance for newcomers in a country where they don't have much extra room.  I'll get into that in later posts but, if you want a little insight this right-wing party is getting more votes in every election.

xx
T

Peering in Windows

I lived in Utrecht, The Netherlands from September to December, 2009 and one of the first things I noticed about the flat country was the huge front windows (without curtains!) on every 'house'.

I say 'house' because there's no separation between living quarters...there are 16 million people living in a country half the size of New Brunswick.  That's 400 people per square kilometre...a space reserved for three Canadians back home.  So, the Dutch conserve space, and the result is streets with rows of attached houses, back alleys that run the length of the street and no space to walk from your front door to your back door, unless you traipse through the livingroom.

They're used to having to deal with people around them....all. the. time.  So, I guess it's not so surprising that their idea of 'privacy' is a little slanted from my own.

On my first evening in Utrecht, I went for a long walk around my neighbourhood to get acquainted with the place and stretch my legs after the 30 hour journey from Ottawa.  In the darkening light, I walked a few steps and my eyes were drawn into my neighbour's house where the family was sitting down to dinner.  Half a block on, there was a couple watching TV, the blue light dancing on their mesmerized faces.  And a little further along, a Dad was playing with his little boy on the livingroom floor.

This may seem creepy - the Canadian girl moves across the Atlantic to spy on people in their homes...but, during my short four month stay in the country, I learned that in a place where you don't have any personal space anyway, you embrace the fact that people are watching.

Some don't like it as much, so often you'll see a bit of frosted glass strategically placed at eye level - you'd have to bend down or get up on your tippy toes to see into this abode.  But, generally, thanks be to the Dutch, who allow me to indulge my not-so-inner nosey neighbour.

xx
T