amsterdam

Falling for the Hatchimal Craze: Parenting Fail

25 November 2016
By

parenting-fail-hatchimal

 

Only now I’m a parent do I realize just how clever and merciless toy companies, retailers and their commercials can be in hyping a new toy in limited quantities just in time for the gift giving holiday season. And in our American-Dutch household, we’re twice as vulnerable as we open our wallets two times in rapid succession  – on the fifth of December with Dutch Sinterklaas and on Christmas morning with American Santa Claus.

The hottest toy of 2016 – a Hatchimal – was staring right at me in the local toy store’s window. Something  between a Tamagotchi and a Furby, a Hatchimal is a stuffed imaginary animal that hatches itself out of an egg with a child’s help. It’s vaguely reminiscent of the strange phenomenon  of those youtube videos featuring anonymous strangers opening surprise eggs and toys that mesmerize toddlers. This unboxing mania is quite unnerving, especially to a mom who prefers her baby and toddler to have a relatively unplugged, old school childhood.

But there was the Hatchimal, an irresistible temptation beckoning me to walk into the store and buy it for my four year-old. Mind you, he doesn’t even know they exist. I felt a momentary smug satisfaction at proving newspaper articles like The Guardian’s Hatchimal – the must have Christmas toy you simply can’t get , Bloomberg’s This $60 Egg Just Cracked The Holiday Market and The Daily Mail’s The must-have toy that is every parents’ nightmare this Christmas: Hatchimal egg is so popular it has already sold out all wrong. Apparently, in Holland, I could easily get one.

€59 poorer and feeling quite foolish, I Whats’ apped my co-author Michele with a picture of the Hatchimal and the words “Dutch parenting fail”.   

“Was the Hatchimal a shoe gift? Is it a bad thing? What is it? Is it expensive?” texted Michele back. “I’m busy getting mostly craft stuff for Ina, school stationery for Ben, and socks for everyone.”

Her response made me pause. A shoe gift refers to the Dutch tradition of children leaving out their shoes, often with a drawing and a carrot placed inside for Sinterklaas and his horse Amerigo in exchange for a small gift. Usually it’s a chocolate letter, or a toy costing no more than €3.50. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet whether the Hatchimal would be a shoe gift, or a larger gift from Sinterklaas on pakjesavond (the main gift giving day), or from Santa Claus.

I’m an American and though I can fake-it-till-I-make-it about being integrated into pragmatic, sober and thrifty Dutch culture, my true colors betray me during anything celebratory – birthdays, holidays, you name it. Perhaps it’s because I am overcompensating for past childhood disappointments of never getting any of the must-have toys like Cabbage Patch Kids Dolls, Tickle Me Elmo, and Beanie Babies. Dig a little bit deeper, and it’s really about my deep-rooted fear of missing out and wanting to fit in. And I don’t want my own kids to miss out either, as a consequence.

Intent on getting to the bottom of this holiday toy craze, I did what any parent would do: crowdsource my mommy social network on Facebook. I asked them if whether or not they have heard of a Hatchimal, is it all just hype and if they would try to make any extra effort in purchasing one.

Jennifer Weedon Palazo from MomCave TV responded, “I’ve never heard of it. I’m in Massachusetts. But it looks like another piece of junk I’ll regret buying!”

Another friend of mine Kim Bongiorno from Let Me Start by Saying gave me some insight. “My nine-year-old discovered Hatchimals on her own, and was genuinely thrilled once I found one. Was it worth the extra effort to go through to get it? Yes. She adores it, and it lives in an adorable little nest she keeps by her bed.” wrote Kim back. “But the toy itself is already a bit overpriced in my opinion. It did not hatch on it’s own: we had to help it along the way. I’m glad I only put in extra time –not money–in seeking it out.”

Curious to know if this phenomenon has reached Dutch shores, I turned to Ray van Os, a happily married father of three. “I think I saw a commercial about that toy last week,” said Ray. “ But I am not going to get it for Sinterklaas for two reasons. First of all, they haven’t even asked for one yet so why get it for them?” said Ray. “The child in me says it is really cool, but the Dutch parent in me tells me that it is a very expensive toy. We have three daughters and I’d have to get three of them. We try not to spoil them.”

Perhaps my friend Lucia Bill, a Dutch mom repatriating back to the Netherlands from Doha, would know. “Hi dear! Actually my kids did not mention it and this is the first time I’m seeing one, or hearing about it.” responded Lucia Boll.

Chances are, as Michele and I suspect, the Hatchimals will also be heavily advertised over the coming period and be on the Christmas lists of Dutch children too. Toy trends often start in the United States  and make their way across the pond. And like with almost every other toy out there, the desire for Hatchimals will die down after the holiday season when there are plenty in stock and their novelty has already worn off. The mixed reviews of the Hatchimal, especially from disappointed parents and children, further re-affirm this temporal toy craze.

The problem is, the premise that you need to buy your child this year’s Christmas it-toy is a modern day, consumerist construct deeply ingrained in my American culture. We’ve someone convinced ourselves as parents that getting such a rare toy would make Christmas morning even more magical and earn bragging rights in the world of competitive parenting.

Christmas toy crazes aren’t yet ingrained in Dutch culture because not only are the Dutch much more pragmatic, but they’re also quite economical. The reason I could easily get one in our local store was that regardless of one’s own economic circumstances, it’s traditionally against thrifty Dutch morals to spend so much money on a frivolous toy. And making a concerted effort to purchase such a toy, if demand did ever exceed supply, would be akin to the walk of shame after a one-night-stand – shameful and best kept to yourself.

As I stare at the purple Hatchimal penguala (they come in five species), I’m tempted to return it. But I decided to keep it as a reminder to never fall for the Christmas toy hype again. Perhaps though, the ultimate judge will be my four year old son when he opens it on Sinterklaas morning.

On Writing, Motherhood and Mentorship

15 November 2016
By

lifteachotherup_libbyvanderploeg

“Hi, I’m Michele” said this impossibly gorgeous and tall British woman. “I’m Rina.” I replied.


I found myself bracing the frigid February wind to meet my new co-author. And like on any blind date, I was anxious and self-conscious. Just three months beforehand, another random stranger, Marianne Velmans, had emailed me suggesting I write a book. After reading my preliminary book proposal, she asked – ever so delicately – if I would consider working with her former colleague Michele Hutchison.   


The story that Marianne had in mind was best written by two mothers – one who could write about pregnancy, babies and toddlers (early motherhood) and another who could write about childhood, schools, and teenagers. I wholeheartedly agreed with her. And so did Michele.


But could we trust Marianne to be the right matchmaker? The chemistry had to be just right.


Michele and I decided to meet in Utrecht – a city conveniently located in the middle of Holland, between her home in Amsterdam and mine in Doorn. I suggested the Japanese restaurant Moto because of my pregnancy cravings for udon and tempura.


I tried my best to come with no expectations and meeting in a public place would give a convenient exit strategy just in case it got awkward. I had a sneaking suspicion that she had similar sentiments too.

 

But when I saw her, I was already smitten and it seemed as I was saying hello to an old friend I hadn’t seen for a very long time.


I don’t remember much of our first meeting to be honest. But there were two particular instances that I can recall which left a lasting impression.


The first one was her gently letting me know how intense our relationship and contact would be. “You do know that we would regularly have to be in contact with each other,” said Michele.

 

“Sure, no problem.” I said. I could always use another real life friend. After all, most of my friends were what I called online friends – people who I regularly connected to on Facebook groups and messenger without ever having met in the real world, or who simply live thousands of miles away. My life was conventionally boring, filled with domestic chores, running after my three year-old son and being pregnant.

What I only understood afterwards, well into writing The Happiest Kids in the World was just how intense our communication had to be. We really had to be the best of friends, or it just wouldn’t work. Only after I co-wrote our book could I fully appreciate Michele’s kindness, openness and willingness to work with me. She also became my mentor, teaching me actually how to write a book. I’m ambitious (both by nature and as a product of Tiger parenting) but suffice to say, I had no idea what writing a book actually entailed until I started  doing it. And I guarantee you, it is not for the faint of heart to write a nonfiction book filled with interviews and an honest account of a foreign culture.


I also remember just how unexpectedly supportive Marianne and Michele were about me being an aspiring author and a mother. I blurted out, “Before agreeing with working with me, I have to tell you something. I’m pregnant.”


“Oh, I know. Marianne told me,” replied Michele.

I smiled. Marianne also had a similar positive reaction when I told her.  “Congratulations! What wonderful news, Rina.”


“You’re still willing to work with me?” I said.


“Of course!  Why should your pregnancy prevent you from writing this book?” Marianne said.


Where I come from, it seems that motherhood and writing are incompatible. The creative life – if one wants to take it seriously and do well – is often romanticized as demanding all one’s attention, leaving little room and time for distractions. Motherhood – the all-consuming, martyr mother image that my American culture puts on a pedestal – demands so much energy that supposedly, not much is left over for creative endeavors, or even work at all.


Yet Michele and Marianne knew another secret. That one can reconcile one’s identities as both a mother and a writer. The subject matter, after all, was about parenting the happiest kids in the world. Surely mothers should know a bit about happiness too. And apparently, Michele and Marianne were ready to show me the way.


(Lift Each Other GIF courtesy of illustrator and designer Libby VanderPloeg)

My Dutch Life: Joanne Lew-Vriethoff

27 October 2016
By

Joanne Lew-Vriethoff is an Asian-American illustrator currently living in Amsterdam with her Dutch husband and two children. Born in Malaysia, Joanne grew up in Los Angeles and graduated from the ArtCenter College of Design. When she’s not illustrating, Joanne loves to travel around the world with her family, exploring and collecting ideas and stories for her inspirations. Awards include the 2015 Mom’s Choice Award (Gold), 2015 IPA Benjamin Franklin Awards (1 Gold & @ Silvers), 2012 Beehive Book Award (CLAU), the 2011 Gryphon Award, Winner Bank Street Child Study Children’s Book Award Juvenile, and many more.

joanne-lew-vriethoff-1

 

What originally inspired you to become an illustrator?

I have always loved to draw ever since I was four years old. When I turned twelve, I lived alone with my older sister in a room rented from a family in Los Angeles. I was pretty much left to my own devices to take care of myself. I went to school and worked three jobs. My childhood was pretty tough and lonely and I missed my parents, who, for their own reasons, thought I would have better opportunities in the States. For me, drawing had always been just for fun but the way I felt about making art changed and became something more important and precious was when life got hard. It was the one place I could go where I was able to make my world different from the one I lived in. It was the only way I felt I could express myself freely and be as wild in my imagination as I wanted. It was my safe haven.

 

Who or what has had the biggest single influence on you?

I am not sure if my parents were the biggest influence but they were definitely my biggest supporters next to my husband. Although my mom still thinks I’m a cartoonist after 15 years, they have always being very supportive and encouraging when it came to doing what I love.

My most awesome talented and funny art instructor Dwight Harmon. I was not a good student in art school and definitely not the most talented or ambitious one.  Yet this man took me aside one day and said, “Your artwork has the potential to be really good, what the heck are you doing and what are you planning to do with it?”   I had never really seen him this serious and stern and it was a good kick in the butt.

After having my daughter, I started drawing and painting with her. I realized how much I had missed it. It made me want to go back to making art and telling stories again. For me, it was about capturing the moments and feelings I shared with my children.

joanne-lew-vriethoff-2joanne-lew-vriethoff-3

 

How has living in Holland influenced your views on art or design?

I love the artwork coming out of the Netherlands. There is a total sense of freedom to be completely yourself in the art you make. Design and art in this country challenges the boundaries and dares to go beyond without fear of what others think. It can be shocking but that’s what I love about it. The children’s illustrations are pure, beautiful, quirky, unique and experimental. Holland is a very safe country. I feel  because of that,  kids are generally given the space and freedom to just be kids, get messy, go barefoot exploring in the park, get wet in the fountains without worries of catching a cold,  and make their own adventures. Living here has helped me relive my childhood again but in a more positive way and appreciate a sense of freedom to be an explorer.

 

What is your design process like?

When the publishers send me the manuscript, I usually take a day or two to process the story.  Then I would start with thumbnails/ storyboard sometimes on post-it notes. Other times, it’s a lot of cutting, pasting and playing around with different pieces before I put together what I envisioned each page is going to be. Once it’s approved, I move on to sketches.  This is where I start working out the details, character sketching, the transition from one page to the next. When I move on to final colors, I start laying out all the big stuff first and then build it up from there. None of my final art has ever felt final because while I am working on one piece, I always find myself going back to the earlier pages because I suddenly thought of something that can be added or taken out. This stage can be quite organic. I usually gather my kids to critique my work and my husband who has a great eye and helps me see something I had missed before. The best part is seeing it all come together.

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What is the best piece of advice you have ever been given?

The best piece of advice is from my husband. Sometimes you have to say ‘No’. It’s not the end of the world if you can’t do it. Be kind to yourself.

 

What is the best advice you can give to aspiring artists?

Just one. Oh boy. I can’t.

Never take criticism personally.

If you value your work and time, others will as well.

Love what you do or don’t do it at all.

Know how to sell your work because you still need to pay your bills. Believe in yourself but please don’t sit and wait around for something to happen.

Never work for free.

 

joanne-lew-vriethoff-6

 

Please tell us about your latest project Beautiful!  

Beautiful is a book about breaking the barrier of what society’s expectations are on what beautiful means for a girl. This book encourages girls of all shapes, sizes, and race to embrace who they are and to realize their endless potentials. It’s showing girls free to be themselves whether it’s playing in mud, conducting science experiments, climbing trees, reading books, or playing sports in a wheelchair. It’s about being free to express yourself without fear of what others think of you. It’s been such a wonderful collaboration and so well-received with enthusiastic praise from parents and children that I’m currently working on two more complementary books to Beautiful called Brave and Love.

 

p.s. My Dutch life is a monthly series featuring inspirational people living in the Netherlands, or who have a very special connection with the country. Would you like to share your story? Connect with us!

How We Became a Writing Duo

26 October 2016
By

how-we-became-writing-duo

 

I’ve just removed the card from Restaurant Moto in Utrecht from my wallet. I glanced to the right when walking down the Drieharingstraat the other night and noticed with a pang that it had gone. In February 2015, I’d visited the Japanese restaurant for the first time on a blind date with Rina. But my behind-the-scenes story goes way back, to 2002 when I’d just started working as a commissioning editor at Doubleday publishing house in London. It was a job I would keep for just two years, until 2004, when thirty-seven weeks pregnant with my son Benjamin, I moved to Amsterdam.

Working at Doubleday was like stepping into a  warm bath. Tucked away in Ealing, it was far from the buzz of Soho, the Strand and Covent Garden, where many other publishers are based. Transworld – the group Doubleday belongs to – prided itself on its friendly atmosphere. Workers were part of a large family with gentle father figure Larry Finlay at its head. Larry was the kind of person who would give you unsolicited advice on breastfeeding, keenly in touch with his feminine side. Marianne Velmans, my direct boss, was also a nurturing, guiding presence, eager to help her young editors make their way to the top of the business. It was the kind of place people joined and never left, there was very low staff turnover. And unusual for the cut-throat atmosphere of London companies, it was understanding of family commitments; many mothers and fathers were able to juggle parenthood and careers there.

I too imaged myself tucked away in Ealing commissioning and editing wonderful books for a great many years to come. But life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. I married a Dutchman and ended up in Amsterdam on maternity leave. And though I was planning to return to my fabulous job in London, the advantages of bringing up kids in Holland got in the way. I ended up finding a job in Dutch publishing and it wasn’t until a merger had me commuting for 2.5 hours a day that I decided to go freelance. I’d been translating Dutch books on the side for some years and now I made this my sole business. Translation would be my career. It was similar to editing but even more engrossing, since you’d spend not weeks but months working closely on a text.

Until I got a phone call from my old boss Marianne. Might I be interested in co-writing a book on why Dutch children were the happiest in the world? She already had one writer, an American expat with a young son, but she wanted someone to write about older kids and add a British perspective to the mix. She’d thought of me because she knew I’d stayed in Amsterdam precisely because of the advantages of bringing up children here, and I had plenty of experience of working closely with authors in an editorial role. Perhaps I could bring both skills to bear.

 

 

“Behind the Scenes of The Happiest Kids in the World” are blog posts that give readers a sneak peak in the making of our forthcoming book The Happiest Kids in The World.

Next time: Rina’s account of what happened in the Japanese restaurant…

P.S. Can’t wait to get your hands on the book and you currently live in Europe? Pre-order here. If you happen to live in the United States, you can get your copy here.

American Presidential Election According to an American Expat

29 September 2016
By

american-politics

 

I usually don’t address anything political in my little space on the internet. You visit Finding Dutchland, I assume, to escape from that noise, to be inspired and perhaps nostalgic about all things related to life in quaint and cozy Holland. You come here for the gezelligheid. But I feel the collective anxiety surrounding me as I am flooded by news regarding the American presidential election. The spotlight centers around a lawyer – Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton- and a salesman – Republican front runner Donald Trump.

 

And I am struggling to set aside all these emotions stirring inside of me. So here I am, trying to steady my quivering voice, to connect and to make a stand.

 

I am a proud American. And unlike many American expats who happily immigrated to Holland, I dragged my feet, second guessing and suspicious about living in a country I’d never heard of before. Couple that with the downright depressing weather, the bristling direct form of communication, and overall feelings of isolation, the temptation to book a one-way ticket back to San Francisco where I come from, lingered for quite a while. But I came here for love, and decided to stay to start a family.

 

Almost ten years later, I find myself well integrated in Dutch culture and have seen enough of the merits of Dutch parenting to co-author a book about it. And during the process of writing and research, it wasn’t hard to stumble upon an uncomfortable truth: the on-going struggle for a decent life in America is overwhelmingly much harder than in the rest of the modern developed world, especially compared to Europe.

 

Their Dutch counterparts enjoy benefits such as paid maternity leave, affordable health insurance, postpartum maternity nurses at home after each delivery, essentially free medical care for children under the age of eighteen,  a quarterly kinderbijslag (child benefit) to help cushion all the expenses and a guaranteed minimum of five weeks holiday a year.

 

And as much as Americans, especially mothers, love to lament about there is no such thing as a work-life balance, Dutch parents are accomplishing it en masse.  It’s done through part-time work, where the general trend is both parents dedicating one day a week to childcare, household chores and even penciling in time for themselves.

 

I also understand the knee-jerk, hot-blooded American reaction to all these generous benefits and supportive social family policies as simply a state of socialism gone mad. My husband and I can empathize – we’re an entrepreneur and freelance writer. If we don’t work, we don’t earn a dime. And we prefer to keep our hard-earned money for ourselves thank you very much.

 

But America, consider this – the effective tax rate that American workers pay is essentially not that different when you add up all the other taxes – social security, state and local taxes, and real estate taxes. So the American middle class is considerably much more out of pocket and has much less benefits.

 

So it’s no wonder I couldn’t help but ask why more Americans aren’t revolting? Why is there no civil unrest? Why are Americans, quite frankly, so complacent? Why do we as a society perpetuate the idea that we’re all temporarily embarrassed millionaires?

 

Now that we’re only five weeks away from the most important American presidential election in modern history, these questions become even more relevant. After all, whoever becomes President of the United States has influence on what type of social policies will be implemented.

 

To be perfectly honest, I am not infatuated with Hillary Clinton. Like many of my generation – millennials between the ages of eighteen and thirty-four – I have a soft spot for Bernie Sanders. He is the crazy, unkempt uncle at Thanksgiving dinner who would directly acknowledge what had been lingering in our minds – climate change, student debt, and economic uncertainty. We loved him and respected him for it. The Democratic National party and mainstream media obviously didn’t.  

 

In trying to understand why exactly voters lean one way or the other, it finally dawned on me: America is going through a social revolution. It’s not how I romantically pictured it – peaceful demonstrations and inspiring speeches televised live at the Lincoln Memorial. It’s happening behind closed doors in people’s living rooms, in the modern privacy of Facebook groups, and Twitter. It resonates with similar discontentment as the Brexit.

 

This election if anything is a clear indication that Americans are upset and many have had enough of the status quo. Americans are desperate for change. As T.A. Frank writes in an article in Vanity Fair, “We can see that voters are exceptionally dissatisfied with how things are going in the United States. Nearly two-third of them believe the country is on the wrong track.”

 

If you’re an American, the best and simplest thing you can do right now is to register to vote. Your voice matters.  

 

With love,

Rina Mae

Why I Love Dutch Children’s Films

20 September 2016
By

Dutch Children's Films

My nine-year-old daughter used to watch noisy cartoons, progressing from Dora the Explorer to Pokemon and Ben 10, and watching all the Disney and Pixar hits on the way. But about a year ago there was a sea change in her viewing. She discovered serialised Dutch children’s book adaptations such as Koen Kampioen (about a young footballer), De Leeuwenkuil (about a family running a zoo) and Hoe overleef ik (about an adolescent girl). Then she moved on to the wealth of Dutch children’s films shown during the ‘Zappbios’ slot on national tv. For the first time, I started eagerly joining her in front of the telly.

 

Dutch cinema tends to be realist and naturalistic; films frequently deal with family and friendship issues, tackling loyalty, betrayal, failed ambitions. While this can make for dull and rather monotonous adult films with a lack of dramatic action, Dutch children’s cinema is often outstanding. The young leads act well (by this I mean subtly) and the issues treated work well within the context of childhood, growing up and learning about how the world works. For example, we recently watched the Emmy-award winning lightly comic Rhubarb about a step-brother and sister who try to fix their parents’ failing second marriage. Interestingly, relatively few of the films contain fantasy elements – examples are Dolfje (‘Alfie the Werewolf’ about a boy who becomes a werewolf on his 7th birthday) and Dummie the Mummy (about an Egyptian child mummy that  turns up in a Dutch village), but even these also feature regular children in a realist setting.

 

I have a hunch that Dutch films are easy to relate to because they feature actual children as opposed to fantasy adults or animals. I’m hard-pushed to think of many Hollywood films with human kids in: Home Alone, ET, Back to the Future all hark back to the 80s, and then there are the more recent Roald Dahl adaptations, of course, but still. It’s almost as if superheroes, princesses and animals have to stand in for children most of the time. The sad reason might have something to do with the lack of freedom American children have while growing up. What makes the plots and premises of the Dutch films possible is the fact that Dutch children are free to play outdoors for hours on end in real life. The young characters portrayed in the films move around without parental supervision. They play outdoors, going off on little adventures in the way the Famous Five and Secret Seven did in the Enid Blyton books I read as a child. They have their own (head)space in which the dramatic action can take place. They aren’t followed about by hovering parents.

 

The other difference is that Dutch parents don’t protect their children from learning about the more challenging aspects of life. They don’t grow up in a rose-coloured bubble, shielded from knowledge of illness, death or sex. Life is not censored. The last Zappbios we watched was actually a German film called Köpfuber (Upside Down). It is about a ten year-old boy losing his joie de vivre as a side effect of ADHD medication. It was hard-hitting rather than a feel-good movie but definitely food for thought. Allowing children to watch Dutch and other European arthouse-style movies prepares them for the real world in a way that no Disney film can.

 

Here are my daughter’s favourite Dutch films:

  1. Achtste-Groepers Huilen Niet / Cool Kids Don’t Cry

A 12-year-old gets leukemia in the last year of primary school. I think this struck a particular chord because one of my daughter’s close friends was suffering from cancer at the time.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6LvdPO07b60

  1. Kauwboy / Crow-boy

A boy and a crow and a violent father, it reminds me of the Ken Loach’s Kes.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2arjDF3hmo

  1.  De Boskampis / The Boskampis

A comedy about a boy who pretends his dorky father is a Mafia boss.

Trailer: https://vimeo.com/120481247

  1. Mees Kees / Class of Fun

A trainee teacher gets put in front of the class. Comedy.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRragbB5npg

  1. Het Paard van Sinterklaas / St Nicholas’s Horse

Perennial classic about a young Chinese girl hoping for a gift in her shoe.

Trailer (no subtitles): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_MTdLL08Yds

  1. In Oranje / In Orange

Film about a boy who dreams of playing for the Dutch football team and loses his father to a heart attack.

Trailer (no subtitles): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXUXi9IkwPo

  1. Het Zakmes / The Pen Knife

Cute 1992 film about a six year-old trying to return a penknife to a friend who has moved away.

No trailer but here is an except: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPz8cvTYjCw

  1. De Sterkste Man van Nederland / The Strongest Man in Holland

A single mum tells her son that his father was the strongest man in the Netherlands. He goes off in search.

Trailer (no subtitles): https://www.filmtotaal.nl/film/19940

  1. Minoes / The Cat That Came In From The Roof

Film of Annie MG Schmidt’s classic children’s book about a young woman who can turn into a cat

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EO8-iDYffdE

  1. Kruistocht in Spijkerbroek / Crusade in Jeans

Another film of a classic children’s book, a boy goes back to 13th century to set a few things right.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uc0aM6Wtr_s

A Thank You Letter to the Strangers on the Train

14 September 2016
By

thank-you-letter

To the random strangers on the train,

 

Two months ago (July 14), I had an epileptic episode on the train traveling between Utrecht Central and Driebergen-Rijsenburg. At my most vulnerable moment, you stayed by my side and helped me.

 

For starters, it was clear that there was a good chance I wasn’t one of you. I’m an American of Filipino ancestry – my dark brown skin, short stature and Northern California accent a clear giveaway.  But instead of dismissing me, you all tried your best to give me solace during the most embarrassing moment of my life.

 

I live with epilepsy. It’s an inconvenient disorder that rarely appears, a vague constant threat that lingers around. I’m supposed to be getting plenty of rest, a solid night’s sleep, eating healthily, and avoiding epileptic triggers. Something that’s quite a challenge when you are deep in the trenches of early motherhood.

 

And despite my seemingly extrovert, open personality, I prefer to suffer in silence, the pick-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps mentality deeply ingrained in me.  

 

On that day, the air was the crisp kind, mingling with Holland’s soft light to make everything look clear, as if you were watching the world through a new lens. I was just coming home from an intense, but productive meeting with my co-author and Dutch publisher in Amsterdam.

I’m an aspiring writer, hoping to put words to all the wonderful (and challenging) aspects of bringing up American-Dutch kids in your country. To what the Dutch are actually getting right – raising the happiest kids in the world.

 

I struggled during my first few years in your country. It wasn’t easy. And it took me a really long time to get acclimated. The infamous Dutch directness and unsolicited advice initially clashed with my overly polite Asian American upbringing. Now I actually appreciate it and prefer the pragmatic style of communication. So I was high on life, finally feeling like I’m not only surviving in your country, but thriving.   

 

When I reached Amsterdam Centraal, I noticed that I had three minutes before my train would leave. So I sprinted. For my life. I was pleased with myself for having made it, not having to wait another thirty minutes. Then my stomach started hurting. A sense of panic rushed over me. I told myself if I just practiced some breathing exercises, perhaps I could prevent the attack from happening. I was wrong.  

 

Thank you for your random act of kindness. For not running away to the nearest polder when you witnessed a random foreign stranger lose consciousness, have violent muscle contractions and wet herself. Twice. You could have easily assumed, having never witnessed a grand mal seizure, that I was a tourist who had taken a bit too many liberties.

 

I’m hoping that these words will reach you.

With gratitude,
Rina Mae

The Grammar School Debate From the Outside

13 September 2016
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‘For far too many children in Britain, the chance they have in life is determined by where they live, or how much money their parents have,’  Theresa May said last week, referring to the in-built inequities in the British school system. There is a gaping chasm between the quality of state schooling available in the south and what you can get in the rest of the country. And then there are the public (private) schools which are better than any of these anyway (though she doesn’t say that). You’re either rich or you’re f*cked in the UK is how many parents see it. Reform would be welcome to most.

But May’s first speech as Prime Minister promising plans for new grammar schools is causing a furore. ‘Theresa May entrenches segregation and privilege with her education reforms’, was one such headline. ‘We will fail as a nation if we only get the top 15 per cent to 20 per cent of our children achieving well,’ Sir Michael Wilshaw, Chief Inspector of Schools, declared on Radio 4, underlining the typically Anglo-Saxon ambition for all children to achieve great A levels.

What’s the problem with grammar schools then? In the Guardian, Sam Freedman argues that only a tiny minority of children from disadvantaged backgrounds actually attend these schools and, really they cater for the middle classes. (Hang on: what’s wrong with the middle classes? They can’t always afford private school fees either.) He goes on to state that ‘all the top education systems in the world are comprehensive,’ which is where I get all bristly. It’s patently untrue when you consider the Netherlands which does have a selective system and scores excellently in the OECD report he himself quotes from.


The Dutch system is a great improvement on the British one and it’s one of the main attractions of life here as a parent. Born into the non-affluent middle class, I attended a small-town grammar school in the Midlands myself. It wasn’t all it was cooked up to be, as I later found out when I went to uni. The privately-educated kids were way ahead academically and it took me a couple of terms to catch up. So as I see it, if you want the best education in the UK right now you have to pay for it, grammar schools or not. The Netherlands on the other hand, has a unified school system, paid for by high taxation. You don’t need to be rich to attend the top schools.

Dutch children attend primary school from 4 to 11 years of age and are streamed into different types of secondary schools after that. I’ll explain but bear with me, it’s complicated. There are grammar schools – ‘gymnasiums’ – which provide an academic education (VWO)  including Latin and Greek in preparation for university entrance. There are mixed schools which offer the academic stream (VWO) and the professional stream (HAVO – preparation for higher non-academic education). There are schools offering just HAVO. And there are schools providing the various types of vocational education (VMBO). That’s not all though. If you want more mobility, there are large schools that offer all of the education types, the equivalent to the British comprehensives. Children are divided into these streams around the age of 12, after aptitude tests throughout primary school, and character assessment. If a child isn’t interested in knuckling down to bucketloads of Latin and Greek, they won’t be recommended for a gymnasium. You don’t want to set them up to fail. Children who do better than expected can move up a stream.

‘Achievement’, ‘academic’ and ‘meritocracy’ seem to be the catchwords of the grammar school debate. ‘In a true meritocracy, we should not be apologetic about stretching the most academically able to the very highest standards of excellence,’ May says. ‘Every child should be given the opportunity to develop the crucial academic core.’ Everyone must achieve is the subtext and academic studies are preferable to any other kind. But it’s not like that in Holland. The Dutch school system aims to keep pupils engaged and happy and as a result achieves high attendance figures and good pass records. Although the upper middle classes can get hung up about getting their kids into gymnasiums, in general, there is no shame in going to the HAVO or attending a vocational school. The point is, the other schools provide a good education too! There’s a vocational school a couple of hundred yards from my house that teaches plant and animal science.  It’s got its own greenhouses and mini-farm out the back. My son and I often peer over the fence in envy at kids grooming ponies and planting bulbs.

The thing is, the British have become trapped in their own ideology – a utopian desire to believe that a meritocratic society might be possible, while having one of the most entrenched class systems in the world. Surely the point should not just be to build more grammar schools, but to provide a better range of education across the board and do away with the socially-divisive private school system? This seems to be what May herself wants: ‘Because if the central concern ordinary working class people have is that their children will not enjoy the same opportunities they have had in life, we need to ensure that there is a good school place for every child, and education provision that caters to the individual needs and abilities of every pupil.’ (Though she should certainly add the middle classes to the working classes.) She also makes it clear she doesn’t support the binary system of secondary moderns picking up the slack once grammar schools have taken the pick of the crop, but welcomes a more diverse selection of schools. Come and take a look at the Dutch system, I say. Don’t just build grammar schools but other types of successful schools that kids actually want to go to.

The Happiest Kids in the World, Bringing Up Children the Dutch Way

5 September 2016
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It’s time to fess up. We’ve been keeping something from you. Nothing bad. We haven’t cheated on you or anything, but we thought it best to wait until everything was official. We’ve written a book and it’s called The Happiest Kids in the World: Bringing up children the Dutch way. The British edition is now available for pre-order on Amazon. Doubleday UK commissioned the book, Dutch rights have been sold to Nijgh & Van Ditmar for publication in the spring, and we have an American publisher too – The Experiment who do cool non-fiction books. They’ll be publishing next spring too.

As expats bringing up our kids here – Rina Mae Acosta is American and Michele Hutchison is British – we realized that something truly wonderful was going on. UNICEF had already confirmed our suspicions: according to the Child Well-Being Studies, the Dutch are raising the happiest children in the world. We’re talking about well-adjusted and healthy kids who rate themselves happy, get on well with their friends and parents and enjoy school. . . And these children have managed to come top the two times the comprehensive study into childhood happiness was conducted.

What exactly are Dutch parents doing differently? Could it really just be all the hagelslag, chocolate sprinkles, that Dutch kids eat for breakfast? Or perhaps it’s because of the chilled-out Dutch babies who sleep through the night and the under ten crowd who are free to play after school because they have no homework. And why isn’t anyone else making a fuss about this? Shouldn’t more parents know about this parenting style that’s actually working?

 

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So we put our heads together to figure out exactly why Dutch children are rated the happiest kids in the world.

 

 

In the meantime, come join us on our Facebook page. And if you’d like to support us in letting more people know about our book, please do.

Stuff Dutch People Think Is Dutch

23 August 2016
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I’ve long been a fan of Colleen Geske’s entertaining blog www.StuffDutchPeopleLike.com. Colleen, who is Canadian, has lived in the Netherlands as long as I have and has spent time cataloguing all the peculiarities of the Lowlands. Topics include: ‘Speaking in expressions’, ‘Impossibly steep stairs’, ‘White leggings’ and ‘Borrels’. In 2013, she self-published a book of the same title with 60 of these blog posts. It’s fun and recognizable and I definitely recommend it. Just recently I bought her follow-up book Stuff Dutch People Say, which being a linguist, is right up my street. The Dutch language is riddled with often peculiar idiom (they speak in expressions, after all) and Colleen sets about explaining where some of these things come from, as well as discussing Dutch words that have made their way into the English language (coleslaw – kool-sla, for example).  

It’s probably easier for an outsider moving into a particular culture to isolate the things that seem typically Dutch, than for a Dutch person themselves. It’s easy to assume particular behaviours or objects are normal, until a foreigner points them out to you. The same thing happens to me with Englishness sometimes.  A Dutch friend pointed out to me last week that fumbling teenage sex at a bus-stop or in the back of a parked car was not something many Dutch people had ever experienced since most of them lost their virginity at home. A more obvious example of cultural difference is English people abroad constantly having to ask for milk to put in their tea (and then: regular milk, please, not coffee creamer!).

All that said, a new book has just come out in which the Dutch have a go at explaining themselves. The Netherlands in 26 Iconic Objects, edited by Wim Brands and Jeroen van Kan and published by Uitgeverij Balans contains 26 short essays each by a different Dutch writer. I confess to having been an insider on the project since I translated two of the essays myself (‘Ice-Skates’ by Maarten t Hart and ‘Biscuit Tin’ by Maartje Wortel). Although many of the objects chosen weren’t invented by the Dutch, their adoption into Dutch culture highlights something about the natural character. In the case of the essays I translated, ice-skates were probably invented in Scandinavia but became particularly useful in a water-filled country that froze over in the winter. Skating on natural ice in a pair of noren is especially Dutch. Us Brits have got biscuit tins too, of course, but we don’t do that thing of offering our guests just a single biscuit. It’s the single biscuit that exemplifies Dutch frugality.

I’d never heard of a Bolknak (Maarten Asscher’s contribution). It turns out to be a Dutch-produced cigar for the bourgeois classes (not something us foreigners associate with the Dutch – where’s that flat society?). But it also fell out of production many years ago. Clogs, bulbs, herring carts, stroopwafels sure, but ecstacy pills? The writer Renee Kelder claims that cargo-bike mums even take them on occasion, as do Dutch people in their sixties. A ‘drugs holiday’ from the straitjacket of Calvinism. And what to think of geraniums which I always associate with the Greek islands myself? According to Bram Bakker, geraniums are a Dutch cipher for old age as it used to be – ‘sitting behind the geraniums’ as the Dutch expression goes. It’s something modern Dutch oldies wouldn’t be seen dead doing, apparently.