culture shock, sorta...?

As an anthropologist, preparing to leave to do research in the mysterious 'field' (however configured), you expect to encounter a certain level culture shock. It's an experience that is kind of part of the whole rite of passage thing in becoming a 'real anthropologist'. Every methods class or section of a sociocultural anthropology course dealing with methods since undergrad devotes at least a little bit of time to telling you what to expect: namely the adjustment to the unexpected.

In coming to do research in the Netherlands, in the very cosmopolitan city of Amsterdam, I really don't think I've experienced the gut-wrenching pangs of culture shock that illustrate chapters in texts on methods. Getting used to trains actually running on time and not costing a fortune (that's right, I'm looking at you Via Rail), mayo on fries (and many, many other things), bikes ruling the roads here, or the fact that it's acceptable to put chocolate sprinkles on bread and call it breakfast (I am so not lying!) somehow didn't really take all that much getting used to... Okay, yes, even while there have been a few aspects of living more or less immersed in Dutch culture that I have found jarring to my North American sensibilities (remember all those posts about Zwarte Piet?), I really don't think that I can say I've experienced anywhere near the same levels of culture shock that most anthropologists expect or seem to.

Well, except when it comes to trying to scale the sheer cliff-face of Dutch bureaucracy.

So, I kind of knew before I left Canada that the Dutch have a fairly extensive bureaucratic process. (One of the only things the Dutch really seem to have retained from the brief time they were under French Napoleonic rule was this penchant for rules and regulations.) Talking to a colleague at the University of Toronto over coffees before I left Toronto kind of gave me a sense of what to expect on this front. This woman had done her own (brilliant) research on the Dutch inburgering process a few years before me, and had actually lived in the Netherlands for nearly a decade prior to that. Put bluntly, she knew what she was talking about, which included files that the Dutch government (from municipal to federal scales) has on each and every Dutch person, detailing the minutiae of their lives: where they were born, the names and birthplaces of their parents, every address where the person has lived, gender, citizenship status, marriage status, ethnicity, etc. (The detailed efficiency of these well-kept files are actually the reason that so many Dutch Jews went to their deaths in concentration camps during the German occupation.) In Canada, the most official documents tracking a person's life seem to have to do with taxes. We really don't have anything that comes close to matching the level of detail the Netherlands keeps on its inhabitants.

Keeping these things in mind, I think I have done pretty well for myself in preparing for this aspect of 'going native' and for navigating the bureaucratic maze since living here.

In applying for my visa, I got my first taste of the system. I was required to submit the 'long form' of my birth certificate, along with all the other usual documents. The 'long form' birth certificate isn't usually issued in Canada, as far as I can tell, and so I had to order it special. (And then, I had to get it authenticated by the federal government, since apparently a birth certificate issued by a Canadian province isn't authentic enough.) Since moving here, I have had to register my address with the city of Amsterdam. On the information sheet for my visa, it clearly indicates that you should register your address within 8 days of arrival in the country. Everyone is supposed to do this (it goes in your file), but finding a room for rent that allowed me to do this was a bit difficult at first, since not all advertised rentals will allow you to register with the city (which is, technically, illegal). Understandably, I found this pretty stressful, since I was still looking for a place to live two weeks after my arrival. (I actually seem to have found a place in record time, so really should not be complaining about this at all. Plus, my place and my flatmates are awesome.) Really, most of the frustration with government bureaucracy here has actually had more to do with being sent to the wrong building (or the right building, but without the right documents) and having to haul ass across the city to get to the right building before it closed. In fact, government bureaucracy has been surprisingly easy to deal with.

The banks, on the other hand, continue to be the bane of my existence, and the major source of shocking cultural practices for me. Then again, is it still considered culture shock if you feel jaw-dropping surprise simultaneously coupled with a feeling of "Why am I not surprised...?" (This is really the unique feeling that has defined a number of important moments for me since arriving in the low countries.)

Money works differently here than in Canada. Here, you need a Dutch bank account for just about everything. Yes, you can get by paying for things through cash, or the occasional credit card transaction - as I have been doing for the past 4 months - but it sure ain't easy! There are certain transactions that really require a Dutch bank account because the culture around these transactions has made cash inconvenient, or even impossible. For instance:

• Paying rent is done via wire transfers (not common in my experience in Canada). My personal cheques are useless and archaic here. Unlike my Dutch flatmates, who transfer their rent money into the house account from the warmth and convenience of our kitchen, I need to walk my wad of rent money down to the bank each month and put it in a strange ATM that puts it on the account for the house. It's pretty weird.
  
• Paying to park your car on the street almost always requires a Dutch pin-card at the automatic ticket machine. I don't have a car, but one of my friends who recently moved here does. Since neither of us had a pin, she ended up asking a stranger on the street if he would pay for the ticket and allow her to give him the cash. Happily, he obliged. (Yay for helpful people!)
  
• Discount memberships to the cinema (the kind that allow you to see an unlimited number of films) require you to have a Dutch account so that they can debit it for 18 Euros/ month. (Perhaps a blessing in disguise as far as my research goes, but still annoying.)
  
• Train tickets are easily purchased at the many automatic machines if you have a pin, but require you to wait in an often long line at the service desk (and get charged an extra 50 euro-cents for your troubles) if you want to pay in cash. While the human interaction is nice, and I have gotten pretty good at asking for a single-way or a day return ticket in Dutch, sometimes the worry over missing your train because of the long line isn't quite worth it.
  
• And, today's particular complaint... You can't get a voordeelurenabonnement (a discount card for the train that gives you 40% savings all year if you travel after 9am), unless you have a Dutch bank account. It is simply not possible to pay for this potentially one-time transaction (you can, of course, have your kortingkaart conveniently renewed automatically on an annual basis) in cash, or in gold bars, or in first-born children, or any other way than through a direct debit of your Dutch bank account.
  

And, the thing is that I can't seem to get a Dutch bank account!

I remember the day when, at about age 12, my mother took my younger brother and sister and I down to the bank to open up savings accounts, a life lesson in learning how to deal with money. Not that I had a lot of money to put in the account at age 12, but the bank gave me one nonetheless. Now, at age 27, I actually have money (perhaps a surprising amount for a grad student, but not necessarily 25,000 Euros worth) and I have can't find a Dutch bank that will let me put it in an account!

The first time I went to a Dutch bank I was told that I couldn't open an account because I didn't have a Sofi-nummer (a Dutch social security number). "Fair enough," I thought. "I will just wait the until I get one, which will happen after I (get a place to live and) register my address with the city."

A couple months later - after the slow churn of bureaucratic cogs and the slow realization on my part that Sofi-nummer is slang for burgerservicenummer (which held me up an extra two weeks) - I marched on down to the bank again proudly wielding my passport and new Sofi-nummer.

This second time, however, I was told that no, I still couldn't have a bank account because I didn't have either a Dutch university-contract or a work-contract... or, barring that, 25,000 Euros to immediately deposit. I think my jaw literally dropped as the Dutch man behind the bank counter wryly smiled and told me this. I have to admit that I left the bank more than a little dejected, and slightly (or a little more than slightly) cursing the Dutch for their cultural proclivities regarding everyday economics.

At the time, it seemed a little bit foolish to get a job for the sole purpose of getting a work-contract so I could open a bank account here. Now, though, after today's voordeelurenabonnement disaster, and after tallying up the points (and not even all of them), it's seeming a little less silly. But maybe that's just me, becoming a little more acculturated to the frugal Dutch cultural climate...?

tot ziens sinterklaas!

I think that this will be my last post about Sinterklaas (at least until next year), since the Sint's business in the Netherlands for this year concluded on Saturday. I have to say, that I really enjoyed my first Sinterklaas day. It was really gezellig, and I think I will miss it (and all the fanfare surrounding it) when I am in Canada next year. This year I was lucky enough to get invited to a friend's house to celebrate with him and his family - much nicer than spending the holiday home alone, since all of my flatmates had departed to spend the day with their own families.

Even with all of the craziness leading up to the big day, December 5th, a.k.a. Pakjesavond (presents evening) - the parades (parades, and more parades!), decorations in the streets and in the Bijenkorf, the Sinterklaas films and themed television shows (such as Het paard van Sinterklaas, The Horse of Sinterklaas, which was super cute and tied in some immigration/ integration-related themes), people working on their poems for their surprises - the holiday itself, as I experienced it, was quite a bit nuchter, quieter, than my experience of Christmas back in Canada. While there were no little kids at the celebration I attended, I couldn't help but think that Pakjesavond was nonetheless a little less commercialized and hectic than your average North American Christmas... though perhaps that was because I didn't have to rush around buying presents and composing rhyming poems for everyone on my list!

Unlike my Canadian Christmases, which have always been celebrated in the morning (and as a kid, as early in the morning as possible), gifts here are opened and exchanged in the evening. I can only imagine what a tense day it must be for little kids! When walking along the Westerdijk in Hoorn I saw the sheer excitement and joy on a little girl's face when the back of a car was thrown open to reveal all the presents brought for her and her family by a Zwarte Piet. Where I was, we had a nice festive dinner, some nice festive drinks, and watched some nice festive holiday-related television shows (notably Paul de Leeuw - who had Sinterklaas on as a special guest, as well as a gay Piet and the official HoofdPiet, head Pete - as well as a very, very Dutch game show called Ik hou van Holland, in English, I love Holland). At one point during our quiet, relaxed evening, there was a great knock at the door, and yes, an unseen Zwarte Piet had left us a burlap sack full of presents! Even though I'm not Dutch, the Sint had brought me a few gifts as well (I have been quite good this year), and I even had a nice little poem (in Dutch). These presents were handed out of the sack over the course of the evening amidst much laughter and smiles. I think that the scene really embodied the untranslatable, typically Dutch feeling of gezelligheid, and I feel really lucky to have been able to experience it.

So, that was my first, but hopefully not my last, Pakjesavond. Who knows if I will get to celebrate the holiday again in the future, or if it will be the same? I have heard a lot of discussion here and there about how this holiday is changing. People are concerned about its commercialization, about the growing popularity of the American (and therefore commercial) Santa Claus in Holland, and of course, about the discussion and sometimes debate surrounding the traditional figures themselves and whether the holiday should, at least in some respects, be changing with the times.

Some friends had a lively and slightly incredulous conversation about how there is talk about starting to have an official 'goodbye' event for Sinterklaas. As it is now, the Sint is here from mid-November and then quietly returns to Spain after his big day. This is the way its been for quite some time, but now people seem to be saying that children are confused about why their friend has just up and disappeared. The solution, say some, is to have a proper goodbye for the lot of them and thus, help keep the children from being traumatized by his abrupt departure. The discussion over this in my kitchen concluded that this was quite absurd (to put it politely) and that it was just a bid to make more money off the holiday - making it in some ways "more American," which understandably, doesn't sit well with many Dutch people.

There is also concern that Santa Claus (often described as a poor, commercial version of "the real thing," the Dutch Sinterklaas) is becoming a bigger deal here, horning in on the territory of Sinterklaas as it were. As I wrote about before, Christmas isn't that big of a deal here, and Santa is definitely not seen as belonging here. Kind of interesting, to me anyway, as a narrative defining Dutch culture. I actually even saw an interesting Christmas tree-top decoration of Sint-Nicolaas, that someone was giving as a surprise. While we both thought that it was a bit interesting that it was a Sinterklaas figure meant for a Christmas tree (which actually has nothing to do with the Dutch December 5th holiday), it was more interesting as a commentary on the assertion of Dutch identity, which was the real point of interest for the person it was given to.

As for the blackness of Zwarte Piet, I think I will have to make my own notes and think on it until next year (or until I start outlining my dissertation), since for now, Sinterklaas has gone on his steamboat back to Spain until next year, and all the Zwarte Pieten have gone with him.

Finally, I have heard that next year Greenpeace is threatening to do some kind of action against the Sint if he comes from Spain via his traditional, but in their eyes, outdated and environmentally irresponsible mode of transportation. The environmental organization would like to see the Sint come next year on a sailboat instead. But, seriously, I have to ask, if the Dutch refuse to substitute the sometimes-questionable and controversial Black Pete for other coloured Petes, does Greenpeace really think that they'll have much success in getting the lot of them here from Spain on a sailboat rather than the iconic steamboat?

tis the season... to think critically about culture and race?

So, once again proving that anthropologists can never really go on vacation (at least in the sense of leaving their work behind), look what I found when I was in Rotterdam:


Yep, you know I had a lot of questions about this one. I will come back to it a bit later...

As I wrote about before, the tradition of Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet have intruigued me since before I arrived, but seeing how this festive season unfolds first-hand has got my brain a-buzzing in geeky as well as childish delight. I was lucky enough to see the official arrival of the saint in the Netherlands earlier in November. And on Tuesday evening I was told by my flatmates that I needed to bring a shoe down to the kitchen. I was a little confused, since I thought that Sinterklaas came on December 5th. Apparently though, since he's here from mid-November, he is available to pick up children's letters and leave some presents before then. So, when I went downstairs with my boot I found that laid out on the kitchen table (since we have no fireplace) were all of our shoes, a bowl of water and a carrot for the white horse of Sinterklaas. Then we stood around our shoes and had to sing some songs to show that we were nice. I didn't know any of the words to the songs, and so one of my flatmates suggested that I write Sinterklaas a letter and ask him to bring me the songs. I wrote my little letter (in Dutch, of course) and stuck it in my boot and then was told to go to bed. The next morning I was pleased to find that Sinterklaas did think I had been nice enough, and he had left me not only a nice chocolate figure of himself and his helper, but a magazine with a nice cd with all the songs! Very exciting.

Going from these gezellig traditions among friends to thinking critically about the history and imagry of them makes one little anthropologist very happy. The range of discussion about Sinterklaas and his Zwarte Pieten friends is quite broad here. And this is where the bizarre poster I alluded to above comes in. It should be noted that I came across it after walking past a parade with the saint, and many Zwarte Pieten playing instruments and promenading through the downtown heart of Rotterdam. There were two others posters like this one of a deranged Sinterklaas, but featuring a shirtless Zwarte Piet with the words "zwarte van roet" (black as soot) written across his chest, and some crazy, woolly horned character who I had never seen before. The link takes you to STEREOPIET.nl, which seems to be a project in which the author urges Dutch people not to stop celebrating their traditions, but to think critically about their history. As of now, there is only a summary of the research and a whole lot of reactions (mostly in Dutch) to the site, which also show the spectrum of feelings over the holiday. Interesting!