Undutchable

Is life in Holland making me weak? That was the question occupying my mind this morning as I trudged to my doctor's office for my fourth appointment in 6 months. When I lived in the US, I probably visited my doctor 4 times in 6 years.

Tja, my neck hurts, the doctor's office is nearby and I'm insured to within an inch of my life. So why not? (FYI: I have a strained muscle. Annoying, but apparently it's nothing to worry about).

In the waiting room I read Dutch women's magazine Libelle. Together with its sister publication Margriet, Libelle determines every aspect of a middle-aged Dutch woman's life. Flipping through its pages is like taking the pulse of society.

This morning I read an article by a woman who explained that she recently had a Kate Chopin-esque revelation that she's been miserable for the past 15 years. Why? She and her husband run their own business. "I've always had to work 4 or even 5 days a week." Yes, they took vacations, but when she had the flu she always had to be back at work "within a week." As I headed to my office (where I work always work five days a week) I wondered if in 15 years I'll be writing such a letter.

This is fairly inocuous compared to some of the other content dished out by Libelle and Margriet. During a previous doctor's visit, I read a letter from a woman: "My husband is a good father, but sometimes I think I could be happier. Should I leave him?" The editor's advice to her was "Make a pros and cons list." (I can just imagine...Pro: I always get to choose which TV show to watch. Con: My kids have to live between 2 separate houses.)

Ironically, today I also had to pick up the physical manifestation of my Dutch nationality: my new passport. I blithely walked over to the town hall during my lunch break assuming that since I had already filled out the forms, paid etc. picking it up would take about 5 minutes. I assumed wrong. It took over 30 minutes for my number to come up. And when it did, a middle-aged Dutch woman, presumably a Libelle reader, tried to cut in ahead of me. I politely but firmly told her that I was late to get back to my office and that I was going to be helped first.

I may be getting weak, but I'm still not that weak.