And What Are You Doing Here, Exactly?

I think I mentioned the other day that I had an appointment to go to Werkplein Baanzicht, about the Inburgering Verplicht, or the duty to take a course in Dutch language and/or culture in order to live here.

The appointment was Wednesday and off I went with my trusty companion I like to call "my very special person." :) The person we had an appointment to go see had the misfortune of sharing a last name with someone in a very rude song. (The Dutch love their rude songs. This one is about a woman with very large breasts.) So the evening before the appointment we prepared by surfing the net for recordings of the rude song in question. That got us into a nice, friendly mood.

The man with the unfortunate name was very nice. And very tall. He talked a little bit about the inburgering verplicht, and asked a little about what I was doing in Netherlands, how long I planned to stay, etc., and then more or less asked why I was in his office.

Ummm... cuz you sent a letter saying I had to come to your office. Yes that was, more or less, my answer.

So the long and the short of it is that:

• There's no duty for inburgering before the IND hands me a residence permit.
• In my case, as a resident under the Dutch-American Friendship Treaty, there's no duty for it anyway.
• If I would like, as a person with no duty to take the inburgering cursus, to take the course anyway as a freebie way to get a language course under my belt, well I should have come last year before the budget cuts.

The nice man with the unfortunate name looks forward to hearing from me when I have my permit from the IND and he'll see what he can do, have a nice day.

Monday I have an appointment with Kamer van Koophandel (Chamber of Commerce) to register my business and Wednesday we have an appointment with the bank to open my account. Apparently, you don't just walk into the bank and open an account. Who knew?

Another W000h0000 Day

Yayy. Of sorts. But I'm yayying anyway. I'll take what I can get.

So those of you following along with the adventure know that I went in mid-December to the gemeente (local government) for my first inschriving (enrollment, letting the government know who lives where so they can ensure appropriate and adequate services are provided for the populace).

The very nice man at the gemeente said I should expect to hear from his office in a week or two weeks with my burgerservicenummer (like a Social Security Number). That's the number that I need to get health insurance--which I need for the IND (immigration), and to complete the registration of my business with the KvK (Chamber of Commerce)--which I need for the IND, and to set up a bank account--which I need for everything.

And there's been no word. (Insert scowly face.)

On Wednesday, I got a letter from Werkplein Baanzicht letting me know that I have to come see them next Wednesday because they have to determine whether or not I'm required (at this time) to complete an inburgering cursus (social education course covering basic language, history and customs of NL). That letter had a "kenmark" noted on it. A kenmark is a unique identifier, but it can be something as simple as a customer number from a business.

But still no word from the gemeente.

Today, however, I got a letter from Social Verzekeringbank. For the purpose of retirement, that's like the Social Security Administration. They let me know how to check at any time on the balance of my SVB Pension. And they casually inserted at the top of the letter: "Burgerservicenummer." With a number. My number. Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

So while I haven't officially been notified by the official in charge of notifying me of what my BSN is, I have one and I know what it is!

So today I made an appointment with the KvK to register my business (on the 16th), and next week I'll open my bank account and talk to the Werkplein people. (As I understand it, I am not required--due to the terms of the Dutch-American Friendship Treaty--to do an inburgering cursus in connection with my residency permit, only if I later decide to become a Dutch citizen. But I'll go talk to them.)

Partytime in Me-Ville.

*Exhale*

My very special friend keeps reminding me that we're not done yet, but for some reason I think (after the visit to the IND) that today was the last hoop that I saw as a real obstacle.

In case you're not up to speed, today was the Inschriving (registration) by the gemeente (local government). In preparation for this, last week after the IND appointment, we called and made an appointment today for the inschriving. They sent over the form for me to fill in as preparation for the appointment.

[Cultural note: Mail in NL is super-speedy fast: typically, 1-day service from anywhere in the NL; often 1-day service from Germany, UK, Belgium & France (the neighbors). TNT provides mail service here. *whispers* US... call them. Set up an interview. Hire them. They kick butt.]

So we called Wednesday and I've had since Thursday to contemplate this form. They asked way more questions than the IND did. How long have I had my name and when did I acquire it? Where was I born? When? Who were my parents? What genders are my parents? [Yes. There was not a box for father and a box for mother. There was column 1 and column 2 and each column needed its own gender identification. Go NL!] Where were my parents born? When? What is my marital status? Divorced? Fine. When were you married? Where? To whom were you married? When was that person born? Where? When were you divorced? Where? Do you have children living with you? Do you have children not living with you? When were they born? Where?

And the clincher... Oh and by the way, we're going to need authenticated documentation for all of that. (I only have my own birth certificate.) *panic*

Being able to move on to the next step (registration of my business with the Chamber of Commerce) depends on being registered with the gemeente in order to get a BSN (Americans read, "SSN"). Getting health insurance depends on the BSN. Having a bank account depends on the BSN. Nothing else can happen until I have one.

Nonetheless, off we went to the gemeente to keep our appointment, where we met with a very nice young man who didn't speak English but didn't speak *too* fast, either, and only cringed when he learned that I had two former last names for a total of three names. He had no problem with the fact that I acquired a new name by the usage method after a divorce 20 years ago, he just didn't want the additional headache of having to check three names in the computers instead of one. :-|

He let us know that my birth certificate is no good to him; it has to have an apostille. The consequence of this fact is that my registration will say that my birthplace is Unknown until I submit a properly authenticated copy. He let us know that, since I do not have marriage and divorce certificates (CA doesn't even issue divorce certificates), I can't get married in NL unless I establish that I am, in fact, single. And he said that since I do not have a birth certificate for my son, my son cannot move to the NL under family unification should I later become a citizen unless I provide one.

And I'll receive my registration with my BSN number in one to two weeks. Have a good day.

Hold up.

So I have basically no documentation except for a passport. And you don't care. (To myself I said that, not to the nice man who could change his mind and be a pain in the neck if he wanted to, I'm sure.)

So... Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

W00h000

So today we went to the IND (Immigratie en Naturalisatie Dienst). I *think* there's some confusion there.

If you come from a country that's not on the short list of Holland's friend-countries, and you intend to stay more than 3 months, you have to get an MVV before you come. It means you apply for and start the immigration process before leaving your home country and half the IND's work is already done when you land. In that case, you follow the prescribed channels and go (1) to the local government and register with GBA (Gemeentelijke Basisadministratie) and they give you a BSN (burgerservicenummer) and then if you're starting a business go to the KvK (Kamer van Koophandel) to register your business and then to IND to apply for your long-term residency permit (verblijfsvergunning, or pasje).

BUT. If you come from the US, then on the one hand the rules are way simplified, but on the other hand the system confuses itself. You can't start at GBA because you have no evidence of a right to stay here until after you've gone to IND. But when you go to IND, they'll tell you you should have gone to GBA. Here's a tip: Smile and nod. They'll say, "Oh well, we'll just put this sticker in your passport, and you can go to GBA next."

And that's what happened. It was an hour's drive through windy, wet weather with occasional sunshine peeking through the rain to get to the IND, and then a small hike through the same because of course there's no parking right next to the building (>.<) and I *may* have forgotten my letter with the appointment number on it. But no matter. We got there, safe and sound, and they took my papers (the application for a residency permit without MVV plus 18 pages of attachments), took €600, gave me a very pretty stamp in my passport complete with embossing, and waved bye.

The very pretty stamp not only has nice colors, it also says I get to stay for six months while they decide on my application for residency. Yayyy. Step one complete.

A week from today: The GBA to register as a resident of this town and hopefully to get my BSN.

Pakjesavond: A lesson in the meaning of Christmas

One of the most fascinating things to me so far has been observing the difference between the primary holiday celebration in the US and the primary holiday celebration in NL: Sinterklaas.

I'm going to assume that most readers are familiar with the American Christmas holiday, celebrated on the 25th of December, presided over by Santa Claus and requiring the spending of vast amounts of money on things that are not needed and often little appreciated, in order to be considered a "good Christmas." This in a country where nearly 80% of the population self-identifies as some form of Christian. So I'll just talk about the Dutch celebration, making note that only half of the Dutch population self-identifies as Christian.

Sinterklaas arrives in NL by steamboat (Sinterklaas lives in Spain), the third week of November. Sinterklaas, while having like Santa Claus a semi-superhuman current physical embodiment for the entertainment of small children, is an actual historical figure, Saint Nicholas--a Catholic bishop who died in the middle of the fourth century. The Saint was the Mother Teresa figure of his time, having spent enormous amounts of time and energy helping the poor, primarily in Turkey. De Goedheiligman "the good holy man," as he's sometimes called in Dutch, dresses in red bishop's robes and a pointed bishop's hat.

After a couple of weeks of visiting children and making various appearances, Sinterklaas's festivities culminate on the 5 December (the eve of the death day of Saint Nicholas). These celebrations have of course changed over time. And while a core difference between Christmas and Sinterklaas (the Dutch celebrate both) is that Sinterklaas's holiday makes no claim of connection to the birth of Christ, the current iteration of this holiday honors with true meaning the rest of what Christmas ought to be. I'll leave the discussion of whether Christmas really honors the birth of Christ to another forum for debate. It's not the point of this blog.

What did inspire this blog is an article in the local paper today, Sigaretten van papier mache, "Paper mache cigarettes." I'll translate part of it for you:

"The [tradition of the] surprise gift became popular in 1945. Even children who no longer believed in the Good Holy Man kept honoring Sinterklaas in the 50s and 60s. They no longer just got presents, but they began now to give them to their parents, brothers and sisters. Pakjesavond (Presents Evening) became something for the whole family. And due to the changed relationships within the family, the way Sinterklaas evening was celebrated also changed.

"For example, before pakjesavond names began to be exchanged. It wasn't about how expensive the gifts were, but about how much thought went into them. Mother would rather get from her son a self-knitted sock with holes in it than silk hose. The emotional worth became of primary importance.

"Likewise, the Father changed from the Boss of the family to someone with whom you can make little jokes. So it became possible to tease him a little: for example giving him a huge paper-mache cigarette if he can't stop smoking. His inability to stop smoking would be highlighted in an accompanying poem. And if his beloved daughter had a few too many admirers, then father might craft in his workshop a handful of broken hearts for her.

"This new openness and egalitarianism between parents and their children is the cause for the Sinterklaas surprise gift tradition becoming so popular."

I don't know whether the changes within the Dutch family caused or resulted from traditions such as these, but this whole mindset, and the warm atmosphere of a close family engaging in such a ritual, with the time and effort each has put into preparing for the evening, must be acknowledged as a far more profound way to honor the true spirit of Christmas than maxing out a credit card.

Orange Tape

There is a little more to becoming Dutch than bikes and hotdogs. Puh.

As with any fine, upstanding nation in the world today, there's red tape. Only in Holland, Orange is the new Red.

So it goes something like this:
* From Expatica.com: "Anyone who intends to stay in the Netherlands for more than three months... must register at the GBA within five days of arrival." GBA = Gemeentelike basisadministratie... something like the state-level State Department; they keep track of where people are in order to make sure that each city/state has sufficient resources to provide for its residents.
* From the site rijksoverheid.nl... The GBA retains the following information on residents: "Name, birthplace.... burgerservicenummer (BSN)." The BSN functions the same way the social security number operates in the US. As far as the government is concerned, the number is who you are. Oh wait, I don't have one of those.
* From the site overheid.nl:  "Iedereen krijgt bie de eerste inschriving in het GBA een burgerservicenummer (BSN)." [Everyone gets with their first registration with GBA a BSN.] Great. So what do I need to take to the GBA?
* From the same site: In order to register with GBA, you must show the following: [as applies to me] " U bent vreemdeling en verblijft rechtmatig in Nederland." [You're a foreigner residing legally in Netherlands.]

There's more but that right there is where it starts getting wonky. What it all boils down to is this:
* You must register with the GBA within 5 days.
* In order to register with the GBA, you must show that you're here legally.
* In order to be here legally, you must have a residency permit.
* In order to get a residency permit, you must show [in my case] that your business is registered with the Chamber of Commerce and that you have health insurance.
* In order to register with the Chamber of Commerce, you must provide a BSN.
* In order to get health insurance, you must provide a BSN.
* In order to get a BSN, you must register with the GBA.

And round and round and round it went in my head until my brains almost melted. My very special person and a 900 number to the rescue.

This bit actually made me laugh a lot. The Dutch government, rather than providing 800 numbers, uses 900 numbers. Who knew there were 900 numbers that aren't sex lines??? They typically charge 0.10 a minute. (The government lines, not the sex lines.) Apparently it both offsets the cost of providing the service and cuts down on people phoning up the government to complain about random things.

Long story short, 2 euros worth of government chat time between my very special person and people I can only assume were talking about immigration and not sex yielded an appointment with the Immigratie en Naturalisatie Dienst (IND), on 7 December. The lovely IND person was reportedly not at all concerned with the apparent circular logic of the system, waving it off with a dismissive, "We'll give you a form to take to GBA."

Fingers and toes and everything else you can cross without doing permanent damage to yourself will be appreciated. Thank you!

My Bike

If Dutch, then bike. That's a given.

A common sight in this town of around 65k people is mothers guiding their small children to school on bikes. The Dutch are all but born on bikes, at least in this area. Infant seats with wind screens are mounted in front of the handle bars. Child seats for toddlers get mounted on the cargo space behind the rider's seat. When children are very small and riding their first bike, it's common to see a parent riding along beside, leaning over with one hand steadying the child during critical moments like high-traffic areas and street crossings. The child being steadied (on a bike without training wheels) might be 4 years old.

Never mind that I ride bikes about as well as the average mid-40s American--riding while leaning over sideways and offering support to someone else is NOT an option--I still need a bike. Within this town, there are bike and footpaths to get everywhere, and people use them. There are dedicated bike paths throughout Drenthe, the equivalent of what Californians call a county. There's no local bus service, but people do use the regional bus to get around town sometimes. More likely though, they ride their bikes. I found an unsourced statement that the 65k residents of this town make 70k bike trips every day. I wouldn't be surprised to find that accurate. Most children ride back and forth to school. Parents ride along with younger children. The local train station has parking for over 2300 bikes. (The most recent improvements at the train station removed 15 parking spaces for cars to help create space for an additional 800 bikes, which brought the total up to 2300.)

I'd purchased half a bike when I was here on an extended visit previously. Someone else needed a bike, so we split the cost and I had it to use while I was here. The dealer was very helpful, so I looked up the same shop online, got a rough idea of how to get there on foot, and headed out. The bike shop lies along the most direct foot/bike path from where I'm staying to the centrum (downtown), so off I trekked. Had a look at the bikes parked in front (the second-hand bikes) and the bikes parked inside (the new bikes) and then spoke to the dealer.

I had budgeted around €300 for a bike. Did I prefer 3 speeds or 7? 14? What kind of brakes? NL is flat (wonderfully, wonderfully, bike-friendly-ly flat) and I'm not racing, so it doesn't matter to me. Considered a couple of used bikes and then settled on a big, heavy-framed Sparta 8-speed with electric lighting. How much do I love electric lighting? The law requires that bikes use front and rear lights at night. A challenge I had on one trip, using a rented bike, was riding on a windy Autumn night into the wind. Typical Dutch bikes use a bottle dynamo that makes contact with the sidewall of the tire and draws power from the spin of the wheel. Those are cheap and fairly reliable (they can slip when the tire is wet). They also drag like a set of brakes on the front wheel. I was quite prepared to buy a battery-powered headlight to avoid this. Newer bikes, like my Sparta, use hub-generators. Brushless generators are built into each wheel hub and provide ample power for front and rear lighting (rear lights are otherwise battery-powered) with no discernible drag for the rider.

I <3 electric lighting. Having agreed on a price for the bike, only a few euros over my budgeted €300, the dealer noted that the back of the saddle was torn and replaced the seat for me. No charge. While he worked on that I browsed saddlebags and he mounted a set of twin semi-rigid bags for me. No charge. (These are really handy for "gewoon boodschappen" - normal errands like grocery shopping.)

Time to pay for my bike. The Dutch use a relatively small amount of cash currency and credit only rarely. Most banks issue "chip & pin" cards. The chip retains a pre-paid balance on the card, while the rest of your bank balance can be accessed with the pin as a debit card. These cards are the most common way to do business in NL. The grocery store a block from home accepts currency at only half of the checkout lines; the other half are only for pin cards. No problem. I stopped at Travelex at the airport on my way out of San Francisco and picked up a little cash and a chip & pin card. The pin accesses the prepaid balance, unlike a bank-linked card, but it should otherwise work as normal.

Card not accepted. :-/

After a couple of tries, I offered to walk to the ATM and come right back. The owner insisted on driving me to the ATM in his car. It was only a few blocks, but he insisted. Fortunately, there was no problem drawing money off of the card at the ATM. On our way back to the shop, we passed a group of bikes and the owner was beaming to see his sticker on the back of several of the bikes we passed. He pointed them out and mentioned that it felt really good because around a third of the bikes we passed had his sticker and there are 12 bike shops in the town. No wonder he wanted to make sure I came back!

Home I rode on my brand-new bike thoroughly enjoying once again the blessed flatness of NL and kicking myself for not bringing along a pair of mittens. Air that is cool when you are walking is cold when you are riding in a sassy 5th gear through it.

My bike.

Score!

Moving Day

Moving Day started weeks before the actual Moving Day. In another sense, years before, when I met someone very special. But that's another story.

This one is about the adventure of one California girl becoming Dutch.

Between the US and Netherlands there exists the Dutch-American Friendship Treaty. In essence, it says Americans can come to NL for the purpose of starting a business, with relatively low investment levels required. You need to be non-criminal and net 81% from your business operations and make enough to support yourself. And that's about it. It's an easier bar to reach than if you're coming from another EU country to start a business actually, as Dutch business permits for foreigners other than Americans require that the business serve the country's economic interests and meet a point system of qualification. None of that for Americans. (The Dutch can likewise go to the US to start businesses under similar standards.)

So here I am starting a new business. :)

Arriving in Holland, my biggest concern was that I'd be in Customs and Immigration for a week or so, given that I had three large suitcases and once they asked the standard, "Purpose of your trip? How long are you staying?" questions and I wasn't going to give the standard, "Pleasure. 2 weeks" answers.

Having last slept for more than a couple hours at a stretch on Sunday night, I reached the Immigration checkpoint at close to 11am on Wednesday. (Granted, you have to take away 9 hours that are time difference, but still.) Handed my passport to the guy at Immigration, slightly surprised that it wasn't the same guy I usually see. (Swear I've had the same guy at the Immigration counter on three separate visits.) He opened it, stamped it, and handed it back.

Well, there's something new and different. No questions at all!

On to Baggage Claim to get my hoooooge bags. Done. They were the first ones off the plane. Yayy. Off to Customs. I head for the door that's labeled "Nothing to Declare," because amazingly, in three large bags, I had nothing to declare. Ahhh here we go. A Customs official approaches me, with another right behind her. "Why do you have so much luggage?"

Ugggh this is going to suck. Oh well. Smile and breathe and I say, "Because I'm moving here."

At this point, of course, her job is to ask for my completed forms in quadruplicate that I don't have and the purple holographic 3D stamp that I needed to get from Immigration and didn't and the.... "Oh OK. Go ahead, then."

And she stepped back.

I really didn't even know where to begin to process that interaction, so I just nodded and walked out into the Arrivals Hall. My very special person was waiting for me there and when I told him what had just happened, he laughed. "Yes of course. They're laughing right now. You see, it's all been a plot. Holland is really a terrible, oppressive place to live. The whole country's celebrating because we just tricked another American into coming here."

:-/ I got him back. I made fun of the Asser Bos (Assen's Woods) on the way back to his house, pointing at a stand of about 6 trees and asking, "Oh, is that the Asser Bos?" [He informed me that Asser Bos is holy and not to be made fun of, and then we laughed ourselves silly.]

More soon. Tot ziens!