As much as I look forward to starting another semester at ETSU – the new classes to navigate, a new set of challenges to stare down – I’m not as excited as I perhaps should be. I’ve just come back from spending nearly six months in the Netherlands, attending classes at Leiden University, spending part of the summer there.
Two days after landing in the States, fortunately before all of that liquid-explosives-on-planes mess, I dreamed of Holland, of Leiden specifically, of canals and cafes with terraces, of my temporary family- my roommates, our neighbors, all of whom were studying abroad.
I’ve had to curb how much I say, “Well, in Holland, we always did so-and-so,” or “I miss Holland, I should’ve stayed.” I myself am tired of hearing me sigh morosely while I mope about, sifting through my box of souvenirs – mostly crumpled ticket stubs and museum brochures.
Most people, upon hearing that I’ve returned from Europe, ask, “Well, how was it?” I’ve had to brainstorm for several days and nights to come up with a response that’s not so inane and curt as, “It was great,” and leaving it at that, or – on the other hand – not so prolix as to cross the 45-minute mark, explaining how the Dutch manage to stay on their feet despite consuming massive amounts of Heineken or their choice of over 350 Belgian varieties (all of them my favorites!).
How middle-aged Dutch men flamboyantly style their hair to combat male-pattern baldness, how some cities in Holland have a higher percentage of good-looking people than others, all the while pulling out the thousand-some pictures I took.
I’ve come up with a showstopper for a reply. “I got to smell Roger Federer at Wimbledon.” I say it to shock people and make them laugh, but upon overly close inspection, this statement sums up the context of my time abroad. Europe was a fully sensual experience, and there was always something beautiful and arresting to look at, to touch, to taste, to smell. Federer’s scent, as he walked less than half a meter past me, was a mix of his sweat, clean laundry, the inside of a tennis bag, and, of course, grass.
The ease of traveling on trains and budget airlines within Europe made it possible to see things in real life that I’d only seen in miniature – the “cathedral of tennis” and an almost supernatural world-class athlete, amongst other things.
Then again, it’s futile and somewhat shallow to contain my experiences within Wimbledon – it should include browsing in Louis Vuitton’s flagship store on the Champs-Elysees; drinking absinthe in a backalley bar in Prague; forcing my way through the throngs of crazed German fans in Frankfurt during the World Cup; occasionally enjoying the wares that Abraxas, my favorite Amsterdam coffee shop, had to offer. I’d hate to be clich about the whole thing, but it was all very. surreal.
Quite a few people have asked me how the Dutch treat Americans: are they hostile, are they welcoming? Unfortunately, I felt I had to avoid most of the other Americans because they were mean and snooty; they’d fallen into the bourgeois trap of having to be hipper than thou just because they were in Europe. The most hostile and political discussions I participated in were with the Californians who always seemed so (mistakenly) assured of my conservative politics.
Refreshingly, my time there was somewhat apolitical – not so much uninformed bellyaching or proselytizing – although I was much more informed about current events there than I ever was here.
I found being a Filipino-American was advantageous – I was exotic-looking, but not completely unfamiliar, since I speak English and come from an unabashedly Western society.
I’d hate to blow my own horn, but I was approached by more men in Europe than had ever been the case in the States – obviously they have good taste, or at least better taste. Of course I would say that the Dutch, and Europeans in general, are welcoming.
Coming back here has been a somewhat frustrating and lonely experience.
I’ve felt a sense of overwhelming guilt about “backsliding” into my old ways: driving my car to get somewhere that only lies two miles away, eating fast food and watching TV.
Since this is my fifth year at ETSU, most of the close friends I made in the last four years have moved on, some to new schools and some to other countries. The first week I arrived back in Johnson City nearly mirrored my first week in Leiden – a whirl of paperwork, booze and meeting new people.
The added bonus is that being abroad seems to have re-awakened my enthusiasm for life – I’m no longer burdened with my shyness, a lack of self-confidence, stalling relationships – so, even though I’ve experienced Johnson City inside and out, I see it with fresh eyes. Once again, I’m in foreign territory, and it suits me.

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