You do weird things when you date Dutch girls. 

Like learn Dutch.

I hadn’t made the barest attempt to learn a new language since Spanish class back in college, but a couple of years ago I went over to Duolingo.com just to see what the deal was. The clever bastards who run that website have made it absurdly easy to get started. Within three clicks I was learning the Dutch words for man (man), woman (vrouw), boy (jongen), and girl (meisje). 

This is kind of a dumb way to spend my time. Dutch people not only speak English, they speak it better than you do. Thanks to an upbringing of American media with Dutch subtitles¹, Amsterdammers are not only fluent in English, they sometimes have American accents when they speak it. And when a waiter hears YOUR American accent as you try to stumble your way through a pancake order, they’ll more-than-likely just take pity on you and switch to English.

So I have little practical reason to learn the local language. Many expats never bother. But Duolingo is an addictive website, and I’ve been learning from the cartoon owl for 815 days and counting. I’m afraid to stop.

Oh god oh fuck. Just woke up in the dead of night to kicking at my door. I think he finally found me.

I haven’t practiced Spanish in 4 days. That duolingo bird is relentless.

I think this is the end for me. Adiós.

— Slazo (@slazo) March 27, 2019

There are the quirks that come with learning any language—yesterday I did somersaults trying to remember the Dutch word for “hard,” finally remembering it’s just “hard.” You also learn a bit about your own language in the process. I learned Dutch uses the word “weg” to mean both “way” and “weigh,” which sounded completely insane for half a second, until my eyes widened and I realized ENGLISH DOES THAT TOO. Sometimes it’s so dang close to English that it sounds like you’re faking it (“That is my cat” = “Dat is mijn kat”). Other times you swear it’s just messing with you.

The biggest pain in the language is the whole gendered-noun situation. Ya know how Spanish has masculine and feminine forms like “el chico” and “la chica”? Dutch has that as well (“de jongen,” “het meisje”) but without the -o or -a clue at the end of the word. So you just kinda have to KNOW which version of “the” you should use for every, single, noun.

It has some fun advantages, though. Dutch people get to use words like “efficienter” and “expensivest.” There’s even a word for y’all—jullie, pronounced “yooly.” It can be delightfully literal: rhinoceros is “neushoorn,” cheating is “valspelen” (false-playing), and gas is “brandstof” (fire-stuff). And while we stumble through all four syllables of “The Netherlands,” Dutch people just call it “Nederland.” Can we at LEAST adopt that one?

Free Dutch lesson: the letters “ui” are pronounced “ow,” which makes words like “uit” and “huis” a lot more understandable. If you pronounce your j’s like y’s and your w’s like v’s, you can sound like you know what you’re talking about next time you visit! 

I’m still in what I call Phase 1 of learning the language—if you give me a second I can mostly read a sign, and I can get the gist of a conversation, if not actually follow it. With some mental preparation, I can probably order those pancakes. I’ll have Kiki’s nieces for conversational practice, which is great since (a) since they’re not throwing around five-dollar SAT words and (b) they seem amused with my efforts in the same way they might be with a talking parakeet. After a year or so, maybe I can converse with adults. Maybe.

For all my travel these past few years, I’m much more of a homebody than you might think. I might judge the folks who never left their hometown after high school, but like a big ol’ hypocrite, I never left my hometown after college. In fact, I’ve never lived outside of Texas—let alone outside the US—in my entire life.

Well… it’s a crazy year.

Thanks to a very pretty, funny, and loving Dutch-Australian girl—and thanks to a country that would rather see me leave than welcome her as an immigrant—around the end of the year, I’m moving to the Netherlands. For the first time in 18 years I’m quitting my job. For the first time in 24 years I’ll need to learn my way around a new city, albeit one I already know and love.

To call this a big shift is an understatement. Amsterdam is no Kuala Lampur, but it ain’t Dallas, either. They do typically European stuff like putting the day before the month and pronouncing the letter Z “zed” and calling the first floor the “ground floor” and the second floor the first floor.² Rush hour is a flood of bikes, hot or cold, rain or shine (usually “cold” and “rain”). Good Surinamese food can be found everywhere; good tortillas can be found nowhere. Football is played with feet. And so on. ³

So what am I doing when I get there?

First and foremost, after two and a half years, I’ll be in a relationship that’s NOT long-distance. I’m excited about the utter mundanity of seeing my fantastic girlfriend—and her fantastic cat, Percy—every goshdarn day. I’ll be privileged enough to stay funemployed for a bit, giving me time to work on my Dutch and tackle some creative projects (painting, writing, etc). I’m excited to join the fantastic Amsterdam improv community. Beyond that, who knows? Watch this space.

I love Amsterdam, and I love Kiki who lives there. I’m deeply excited about having the adventure of a lifetime. But I can’t write this without acknowledging what’s bittersweet. There won’t be a farewell party or improv show. Austin is my favorite place on earth, and I’m leaving it at its lowest point. I’m swamped with guilt as I move off to (frankly) a better place while the places and people that I love the most are struggling. I sure wish I had an uplifting end to this paragraph.

I have so many things to do before I go. I’m doing what tiny amount I can to make Election Day a happy one. I still have 52 county courthouses to visit. I need to inventory every single thing I own and label it Store, Sell, Donate, or Pack. I need to see so many friends (even if at a distance) and eat so, many, tacos.

And no, I’m not leaving forever; I love Austin far too much for that. Hopefully in the near future our country won’t be such a fuckface about immigration and COVID, and Kiki can come here! For now, though, we’ll be there.

FAQ AND THINGS TO KNOW

• I’ll be renting my house, hopefully to tenants who are excited to be chicken tenders. More details soon, if you’re interested.
  
• The cats are coming—Sabado in December, Suitcase sometime next year. Moving them across an ocean and introducing them to Kiki’s cat is the most nerve-wracking part of this whole thing. (If you’ve read this far, maybe you’d be a good Suitcase foster parent?)
• Holland is to the Netherlands what England is to the UK. Denmark, though, is a completely different country.