black and (A)broad

I like sports as much as the next woman, especially during play-off time or the Olympics. I cut my teeth on the basics of football and basketball early on as a pom-pon girl at Northview Jr. High in Indianapolis. We Falconettes sat on the bleachers right behind the cheerleaders, chanting, screaming and clapping our boys on to victory or defeat. As a flag girl at North Central High School, the actual sports took a back seat to looking cute in my short, flouncy skirt and ogling the boys climbing the bleachers to better watch the game. At Indiana University I hoped to trade in my girlhood props for a pair of knee-length white patent leather boots and sexy red leotard that the school’s dance corps, the Redsteppers, donned. I ended up twirling flags again in a heavy polyester A-line skirt that reached my ankles, white clodhoppers and a hat that Napoleon would have been proud of.

I was a sophomore at IU in 1987, the year Bobby Knight coached the Indiana Hoosiers to their fifth NCAA championship. I was living in Indianapolis when the Colts sneaked out of Baltimore in the middle of the night to move to their new home town. Too bad I wasn’t there 20 years later when they won the Super Bowl in 2007. Sports in Indiana even have a Dutch connection. Arie Luyendyk of Sommelsdijk, South Holland, won the Indianapolis 500 in 1990 and again in 1997. And who could forget the Dunkin’ Dutchman, Rik Smits of Eindhoven who played out his NBA career with the Indiana Pacers?

Football and basketball are as American as you can get, so why is this American woman gettin’ all excited about soccer? My two teams are playing in the FIFA World Cup, of course. This is one of the three events (the other two being Queen’s Day on April 30^th and the European Cup every two years) when Dutch people confirm my opinion that they’re the most supportive fans in the world. Fans all over the country put on orange T-shirts, dresses, shorts or hats and paint miniature Dutch flags on their cheeks. In honor of the Orange Machine’s debut this afternoon against Denmark, schools are suspending lessons at 1:00 pm (at least in Voorschoten, where I live) so that the kiddies won’t miss out on any of the excitement.

I’ve never been a soccer fan. I’d always considered it a silly game. How much skill does it take to kick a ball around? How much fun can a ball sport that doesn’t allow the players to hand-le the ball be? How hard is it to run up and down the field in hopes of getting one kick in? A lot and very. Now, I can’t get into the ins and outs of soccer, but I can say this: watching a bunch of men with thick, muscular legs passing, stealing and driving their little ball toward the goal is as exciting as it gets, especially when a country pulls together to root on their national team.

Just like in America, where young neighborhood kids can be seen on basketball courts and on little league football and baseball teams, Dutch kids (young and old) spend their lunch breaks and afternoon playtime kicking around a soccer ball. In the 10 years I’ve lived in Holland, I’ve probably racked up hours standing by my living room window watching the neighborhood kids engaged in spontaneous mock soccer matches. After watching Bend It Like Beckham years ago, I longed to have a little girl who was as passionate about the game as Juliet and Jessminder were. Alas, my oldest girl has already decided that soccer is stupid and would rather learn field hockey.

No matter.

At this point in the game, I’m still trying to explain to her why I keep saying soccer “when it’s called football, Mama”. Attempts to explain the difference between American football and football fall on deaf ears, which is understandable because my kids have never seen the former. So, whether I’m speaking Dutch or English, I make it a point to refuse to say football. Call it a last-ditch attempt to hold on to a piece of my American sports identity that I can pass, with hands or feet, to my children.

I just hope and pray my dual identity isn’t put to the test in a match between Holland and America!

Tags: Add new tag, black woman, Dutch culture, overseas living
Posted in Dutch culture, cultural stuff | 4 Comments »

And I can say that now because, guess what I did yesterday afternoon? I BECAME DUTCH!!!!! Between cracks about Dutch speed skater Sven Kramer’s disqualification and the prime minister’s stepping down and the fall of the Dutch government, the mayor of Voorschoten conferred citizenship upon us citizens of Somalia, Italy, America, England and two others I didn’t get to talk to. There were two sets of mother/daughter candidates one of which I see every day when I drop Chloe off at school. What a small world!

Though Chloe probably didn’t have a full understanding of what Mama’s becoming a Dutchie really means, she was excited about attending the ceremony. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I understand the full scope of what it means.

I feel like I felt seven years ago when hubby and I got married. I expected to feel … I don’t know … different somehow. I didn’t. The relationship didn’t change either. The only thing that did was how hubby and I referred to each other - as husband or wife.

I don’t feel any more Dutch than I did on Tuesday. Nor do I consider myself less American. When people ask me “where are you from?”, I’ll still answer “I’m from America.” I decided to get a Dutch passport, not because I expected to experience an identity shift or to tangibly renounce my nationality to protest my country’s ills. Holland has its own issues, believe me.

When all’s said and done, I applied for Dutch citizenship because I could. I was assured I could keep my American one, so why not? Still, I’m planning to travel to Paris by myself this summer, and I don’t think I’ll feel comfortable doing so on a Dutch passport. My identity is still wrapped up in the old red, white and blue. I just have different shades of red, white and blue to wave alongside it.

Posted in Reflections, cultural stuff | 17 Comments »

No, this post isn’t about soccer! While I was on vacation in Tuscany, a reader informed me that she was thinking about relocating to Europe and asked me to compare Italy and Holland, two countries she’s considering. Since I haven’t had the time (until today - the first day of school LOL) to write about my adventures in Italy, I thought this would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone.

Dear reader (your name didn’t appear in my email address), please keep in mind that I’ve never lived in Italy. What I’m writing is based solely on my 11-day stay on a camp ground. That said … my first impression of Italy in the summer is that it’s hot as hell. Literally. Now, having grown up in Indianapolis, I’m used to the unbearably hot, humid summer days. However, even in Indiana, we had air conditioning. The only air I felt in Sarteano and surrounding towns was when a breeze graced us with its presence every now and then.

One of the reasons I agreed to stay in a trailer on a camp site (yes, you read it right. A trailer. Now you know that usually black woman and trailer are usually mutually exclusive, but, hey, I’m trying to broad-en my horizons) was because I saw that the units were air conditioned. I knew I could deal with cramped accommodations (I’ve been living in Holland for 10 years) as long as I stayed cool.

Check this out: as soon as we walked into our little trailer, I asked the lady how to work the air conditioning. She shot me a puzzled look an pointed to an outlet on the wall that had “FAN” written - in English no less - on a piece of masking tape. Then she pointed to a tiny fan mounted on the opposite wall. “I thought it was air conditioned,” I said to no one in particular, to which hubby felt like he had to reply, “This is Europe, Carolyn. Not everyplace is air conditioned.” I swear I saw him hiding a smirk.

So, dear reader, the first difference between the two countries involves summer temps. I survived in Italy thanks, in part, to the availability of a swimming pool and, in part, to the cool nights. Dutch summers are quite the opposite. It rarely gets out of the 80’s. In fact, it doesn’t usually warm up until mid to late July. Before that it’s cool (60’s), gray and rainy. On the other hand, since Holland is pretty far north, summer days are seemingly endless: it’s light until almost 11.00 pm.

The Italians loved our children. Every day, as we were walking to the pool or strolling through some village, someone would stop and say “Ciao bellissima” and actually congratulate us on how beautiful our kids are. One day Chloe actually had the nerve to complain that a lady said “Ciao bella” to Paige and not her!

As in Holland, the folks in Tuscany didn’t seemed at all bothered by my interracial and intercultural family. Although, in the smaller towns we visited, I didn’t see any black people, the Tuscans were very warm and welcoming. Unlike many Dutch people, the Italians actually made eye contact and returned my greetings of “buon giorno”. So, if friendliness is important, you might double-think Holland.

Speaking of small towns, the ones in Tuscany were fascinating. My personal favorite was Orvieto in Umbria. It’s a bit hard to describe from memory, but if I were to live in Italy, this town would be high on my list. It’s close to Rome yet far enough away to avoid the normal big city irritations. It seemed rather upscale (I walked into a shop prepare to buy the most gorgeous dress I’d laid my eyes on in a while. My mouth dropped so wide, I almost drooled on the 900 euro dress!) yet also unpretentious. Just walking through the maze of streets and alleys was a treat that most towns in Holland can’t offer. In terms of beauty in architecture and landscape, Italy has my vote.

The one big city we ventured to, Florence, was awful. Well, Florence itself wasn’t so bad - it was all the friggin tourists (I don’t include myself or my family, of course). Before trekking back to Holland, we decided to spend the day in this historical city. Bad decision. We were so busy navigating our way through the throngs of slow-moving tourists, and it was hot, that we didn’t really experience the city. We inadvertently walked through the fashion district on our way to the Ponte Vecchio, which was neat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an actual Gucci store! Then we went to a square … I can’t think of the name … because I wanted to see the sculpture of a naked Perseus wielding Medusa’s head as well as other sculptures depicting Greek and Roman mythological characters. Were they worth the throngs? Absolutely. Then we left.

One thing I found fascinating about Florence was the increased number of black people, as well as the amount of interracial couples - mostly black women and non-black men.

The food was delicious, of course, and I discovered pasta that I never knew existed (pici, thick, handrolled spaghetti). Pizza was out of this world. My favorite at the Carpe Diem, in Sarteano a few meters from the camp site, was the Bubu, which had arrugula, pesto and shaved parmesan. The food in Holland isn’t so special: it’s mostly meat, potatoes and fish.

English was hard to come by where we were. I would imagine that in the bigger cities one could get by on English. If you move to Italy, count on learning Italian, which you should do anyway if you plan to live in another country.

I think Holland must be one of the most international countries in the world. I’m thinking of the languages many Dutch people speak. A mono-lingual Dutchie (especially in the Randstadt) is the exception. Walk into a bookstore or by a newspaper stand and be impressed by the number of “foreign” newspapers you can buy. All television is subtitled so you can work on your English, Spanish, Arabic, French and even Flemish! Dutch people also put a high priority on travel. I don’t care where you go in the world; you’re bound to run into some Dutch people. And it’s nothing for them to take a leave of absence from work to travel - and I mean for months at a time. And they go back to their jobs.

Where black Americans are concerned, I think Holland is a great place to travel or live. In general the Dutch are genuinely interested in black culture. I heard from more than one person that it was the latter that made America so interesting. People of color are also represented rather positively in the media. That said most Americans (and only Americans, white and black) are deeply offended by Black Pete during Sinterklaas celebrations. My views on said topic are quite clear in a piece I posted last year. You also see an astounding (at least in my opinion) number of interracial couples, and I mean mixes of all different people, not just black/white.

Settling in is much easier in Holland whereas, for the long term, Italy might be more attractive. But hey, I’ve never lived there. On the other hand, based on my limited travels, I would certainly put it high on my list of prospective places to live - for a couple years anyway.

Dear reader (s), I hope this gives you at least an inkling of an idea of what you might expect traveling to these countries. If you’re interested in more details, feel welcome to ask!

Posted in cultural stuff, travel | 10 Comments »

Yesterday when I picked Chloe up from school, she came running to me waving a slip of blue paper and talking a mile a minute about some performance she wanted to go to that afternoon. Indeed, that little blue piece of paper admitted us, free of charge no less, to a circus being staged at one of the various community centers in our town. I’d never heard of Arricirco, but when I read that it was a group of performers from Brazil, I became intrigued.

We cycled home where we ate a quick sandwich, drank a cup of juice, and cycled to the circus. We walked into the gym, and the children were shuffled onto the floor while all adults were directed upstairs. Alas, Chloe heard from one of her classmates who was also there that fireworks would be making an appearance. She brought nearly-crying Chloe up to me, and I spent the last few minutes before the show convincing Chloe that no fire was allowed in the gym.

Anyway, the troupe, composed of 7 boys and young men dressed in animal costumes moved through foresty curtain, all impersonating their beastly characters to a tee. I noticed that most of the performers were Afro-Brazilian and was immeditely animated. Their opening number narrated - in a gentle way that was accessible to their young audience - the tragedy of poachers. The following act wowed us with the performers’ acrobatic skills. Chloe was thrilled to see the youngest performers turning flips and standing at the top of human pyramids. For the first time, I think she realized the possibilities her gymnastics class offers!

My favorite act came next: the juggling. Now I’ve seen just about the best jugglers at the various Cirque du Soleil shows that have passed through Holland, but I’ve never seen four young Afro-Brazilians juggle the same pins among themselves. It was so amazing; I only wish I could describe it.

The last act narrated another tragedy confronting the indigenous peoples in Brazil: cultural erosion. It was a humorous story of a native with a tooth ache. The medical ministrations of the Red Cross were being forced upon him, and of course he was afraid. He did everything in his power to escape the invasive techniques of the “outside world” but finally succombed at the hands of violence. He was clubbed over the head and while seemingly unconscious, his bothersome tooth was blown out of his gums.

The performance ended where it began, but with a twist. The poachers were back on the prowl, but instead of victimizing the indigenous animals, the latter wrestled away their rifles and used them to run the criminals out of the rainforest, which garnered bursts of laughter from the kiddies and a standing ovation from us adults.

I was pleased that Chloe’s first experience with the circus was from this troupe of amateurs who looked more like her mother than the performers she’s used to seeing. And that this group of beautiful young men could incorporate a message into their art warmed my heart to them.

Arricirco de circus van de straat (NED) from Tina van der Loo on Vimeo.

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Posted in cultural stuff | 4 Comments »