HOW DOES ONE INTEGRATE INTO A COMPLETELY new society, once you’ve decided that you love it and want to go to that kind of trouble? I’m not sure, but I’m going to have to learn. It looks like my family has taken to the Netherlands in a big way. And I can’t say I’m immune to its charms myself.
It’s been only a couple of weeks, but the family loves the environment and, more importantly, the people here. It is very different from what we’re used to, and from what we’ve experienced, that is saying something. Once we found it easier to fit into Cape Town than we did Johannesburg, so stark did we consider the differences between those cities. But that was before we became globetrotters.
When we first moved to Shanghai it was tough – a new language and culture – but it was also an adventure. We knew we would never settle there, so there was little pressure to conform. What we learned we learned in order to broaden our horizons, not out of necessity. Granted, the difference is small, but it is important.
Beijing was an extension of the same. It was so different from Shanghai that we had to start all over again, but it wasn’t too much of a trial. Especially not for me, I guess, given that I was on the road for 44 weeks out of 52.
Now we find ourselves in a country of which our homeland was once a small colony, a trading post at the outskirts of the world. That, we thought, would give us some commonality, some shared history and customs and whatnot; but we didn’t really know what to expect. We just knew it would be a change.
And a change it was. Take, for example, my favourite thing in the universe: bureaucracy. In the Netherlands, everything is regulated – and I say this as somebody who tangled with the Chinese authorities regularly. To take a tree out of the garden you need the permission of the local council (called “Die Gemeente”, which is pretty funny if you know Afrikaans) in the form of a “Kapvergunning” (literally, permission to fell).
My wife and I had to have our marriage “audited” so that the Gemeente could be absolutely, positively sure we were actually legally married. That nearly got sticky when it emerged that my wife shares my surname. You see, according to custom here, she is supposed to have kept her maiden name on all legal documents.
The value system, on the other hand, harks back to the best memories of our childhood. The other day we had to visit the local GP to register and for a quick family check-up, because it would be unthinkable (not to mention unwise) not to. As we walked into the waiting room with about ten other people in it, we got funny looks, but didn’t realise why. Not until the next visitor opened the door and loudly greeted everybody with a hearty “Goeie Morge”, which was returned by everyone – except us, who weren’t quick on the uptake.
Men open doors for women, cars wait patiently for bicycles to pass first, waiters are friendly, senior citizens are treated with respect and family values are held in high esteem. It takes some getting used to, but it isn’t exactly unpleasant.
I guess simple good manners don’t need to fall by the wayside even as the world moves at breakneck speed. Our new home is proof of this. This, above all, is why we want to make this our home; not just another stop on the slow-mo round-the-world adventure journey we once considered ourselves to be on. So much so that, sitting in the rather beautiful centre of Prague, I feel quite homesick, and I’m not thinking of sunny South Africa.
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