Living in Holland…

My father would say: ‘No, it’s not Holland it’s The Netherlands. Holland is a just a part of The Netherlands where all the stuck-up people live who believe they’re better than us down south.’ But for now I will say Holland, because most people know this country in that way with its famous capital Amsterdam, red light district, joints and so on…

verjaardag in bedI was born in the south of Holland in a small town called Oosterhout. There are two towns in Holland with the name ‘Oosterhout’, but I’m from Oosterhout near to Breda. Now I live in a small, very small village called Wagenberg. No one knows of its existence but the villagers. And when you’re imported in such a small village it’s difficult to be accepted eventhough I live here now for almost six years. Villagers are villagers loving their village. Not me!

When I first came into this village and met with the villagers, they were all very interested in me. They wanted to know everything about me just so they had a life through me, when I think about it now. I think like that, because now a days those same people hardly talk to me anymore. I know they talk about me, but not in my face, only behind my back. That’s something these villagers love doing. And when they talk about me it’s nothing good. Why? I don’t know. They think they know me and think I’m strange, I think. But that’s just an assumption. I don’t know for sure.

Erica

Photo made by Aat Rietdijk

But, am I a strange person when I love to wear black clothes and make my eyes a little bit more black than the average person in this village? Is it strange the music that I love to listen to and that I like to do encaustic art and writing? Is it strange I wear big boots? Is it strange I’m spiritual and have fibromyalgie? That I’ve had cancer and nearly died once? Is it strange I’ve had several relationships that didn’t work out and that I found the right person at the age of 35? Is this strange to you too?

I’m an honest person who likes to laugh. But I also like to think about life. I speak my mind and am called a ‘flapuit’, that’s someone who speaks without thinking. Just saying what’s on the top of your head and at the tip of your tongue.

Wow, I wanted to write something about living in Holland but I ended up in the same place as where I am now, Wagenberg. Next time I will do better. I promise you!!!

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