Why ‘future of journalism’ confabs fail

After recently attending the latest in the never-ending series of “future of journalism” conferences, I finally realized why they all fail:  They don’t include the right people. 

While these well-intended yakfests are rich in whining and dining ops, journo-futuramas generate few practical or actionable ideas because they lack the perspectives of four key constituencies:  

∷ Consumers – The

What’s next for newspapers?

Not so very long ago, the newspaper business was a snap:  Build the largest possible audience, sell the most possible ads, charge the highest possible rates, print the fattest possible papers and pump out the biggest possible profits.  

This enviable model worked exquisitely for generations, because publishers had little, if any competition.  But it is now clear, as attested by the 50% drop in

A digital publishing model that works

There’s a publisher whose sales doubled in the first quarter of this year, with display advertising revenues climbing 73%, subscription sales rising 90% and recruitment revenues gaining 122%. 

The publisher’s name is LinkedIn and the quarter was not unusual.  The sales of the digital networking and recruiting site grew by 114.8% in 2011 – at the same time interactive revenues at America’s

Fear of Driving in the Netherlands

Before I moved to the Netherlands I drove a car on the roads of Britain. Quite frequently if the truth be known. Prior to my move I hadn't really thought about driving whilst living in the Netherlands, or more accurately I hadn't given it any thought at all. And then I came here and thought,

"Ok, they drive on the wrong side of the road, whilst sitting on the wrong side of the car."

Now of course, before I moved, I did realise that. It wasn't a surprise. For some reason the whole of Europe drives on the wrong side of the road. But having been confronted visually with the reality, my next thought wasn't,

"Right, screw that. I'm not driving here at all if they can't drive on the correct side of the road."

My Kind of Driving
Photo (c) The Writing Well

But it is what happened. Nearly twelve years after moving to the Netherlands I am now taking driving lessons, with an instructor who specialises in helping those with a fear of driving. So, now I have said it aloud and told the world I have to persevere. Yesterday, in the hours leading up to my second lesson, I tried to think of every and any reason why I couldn't possibly go ahead with the lesson. I couldn't have felt more nervous and stressed about it, and that despite the fact that the lesson the week before had gone okay. I got back home in one piece, as did the instructor and the car. Success in my book!

It's been a strange journey to this point. Driving has never been a love in my life, more a handy skill to have and a helpful way of getting from A to B. My driving career didn't get off to a great start (the words "Tesco car park" and "bollard" are all you are getting) and I passed my test at the second attempt. After that it all went well for a few years.

Then I moved to the Netherlands. For some reason I made a mountain out of the fact that everything was on the other side. I did a few minutes round a car park on one occasion in my first week. Every now and then I would get behind the wheel, drive around for a little but and then declare it all a lost cause.

So for years I drove maybe once a year - in the US so I could say I had driven on Route 66 and once in Denmark. A few years ago I drove my eldest to the local farm. I didn't enjoy it but it went okay. It should have been the trigger to drive more. But for a reason I can't explain it wasn't.

Now with three children getting out and about without my husband chauffeur is tricky to say the least. I want to be able to take them places in the school vacations, and know that if I need to get to the doctor quickly I can thrown them all in the car and get there without the hassle there is now.

However, to feel confident enough to drive with my three kids in the back of the car I need to feel confident about driving in general. And of course with little practical application in the last twelve years that isn't the case. So I want another experienced driver in the car with me, but not my kids who are not only a distraction to say the least but also extremely precious cargo.

So there was the option of getting a babysitter so my husband could sit in the passenger seat whilst I cruise the local streets in our car. When we had finished laughing at that idea (we get out on our own once a year so such so we won't be wasting that on driving - we'd rather have a dinner or a movie together!!) we tried to think how else we could overcome this issue.

After a bit of internet searching I found someone local who specialises in driving lessons for those with a fear of driving. That was a year, a year and a half ago. And nothing was ever followed up. Until this year in March. For my birthday my husband presented me with a certificate for driving lessons to get me back on the road, full of confidence...... You can imagine my face unwrapping that!! However, it's a good thing because, albeit it two months later, I have finally taken the important step of trying to face my fear of being behind a wheel on the Dutch roads.

Traffic Jams are as common as cheese
in the Netherlands
Photo (c) The Writing Well

Having had two lessons I am now able to articulate exactly what it is that scares the crap out of me on the roads here:

• Lots of roads are small. Narrow. Barely enough room to allow two horses to pass, let alone two modern day cars. My instructor has disputed this, explaining that two cars can pass fine on most Dutch roads. 
• Many of the roads which look like they are too small for two horses to pass run next to a body of water. You see where I am going with this I'm sure.....
• Dutch people drive very close to the car in front of them. I had it yesterday - a car lodged on the back seat of the car I was driving. My instructor told me to ignore him, and explained that he knew no better. How the hell did he get a driving licence then? She assured me that he hadn't taken driving lessons with her.
• The roads are congested. At least here in the Randstad - there are cars everywhere, all fighting for space on the road. That means traffic jams and accidents.
• Drivers coming from the right on roads with no markings have priority. That means they can pull out right in front of you and are actually in the right. So you can crawl along at a snail's pace hoping no one hits you, or you can peg it down the road as fast as possible and hope you are out of the way by the time they pull out. The latter apparently is not the method approved by any qualified driving instructor. 
• Many Dutch road users do not see a red traffic light as a sign to stop the car and wait. 
• Not only do you have to watch out for other cars, you also have to check in seventeen directions at every crossing and roundabout to make sure there are no cyclists, pedestrians, electric wheelchairs or rambling groups that wish to cross the road. They all seem to have priority. However, when I am on a bike, in a rambling group (does walking around with my three boys qualify under this?) or just plain walking about I seem to have no priority at all.

As you can tell, the journey will be a long one before I am sitting comfortably behind the wheel of a car here...... but at least the journey has now started!

What Am I?

What if the hat doesn't fit?
Photo: ChIandra4U

I've lived in the Netherlands for almost 12 years . I've no plans to move back to my birth country, England. My family is here in the Netherlands, my husband and three sons that is. My sons are definitely more Dutch than British. I feel integrated into the Dutch way of life (as far as humanly possible with the exception of Dutch circle parties which I don't do).

The family I left behind is still firmly rooted in England and always will be. So there will always be a reason to return there. At least for visits.

I live in a world between being Dutch and being British.

So what am I? No, it's not a trick question. Technically I'm an expat.

According to Wikipedia,

"An expatriate (in abbreviated form, expat) is a person temporarily or permanently residing in a country and culture other than that of the person's upbringing. The word comes from the Latin terms ex ("out of") and patria ("country, fatherland"). In its broadest sense, an expatriate is any person living in a different country from where he or she is a citizen."

In more detail, Wikipedia describes the difference between an expat and am immigrant:

"In common usage, the term is often used in the context of professionals sent abroad by their companies, as opposed to locally hired staff. The differentiation found in common usage usually comes down to socio-economic factors, so skilled professionals working in another country are described as expatriates, whereas a manual labourer who has moved to another country to earn more money might be labelled an 'immigrant'."

So yes, technically I am an expat. I live outside my birth country and the one I was raised in. But I have always felt uncomfortable describing myself as an expat. The reason for this lies in the socio-economic implications of an expat, as described above. 

I worked for a company that sent 'expats' overseas for assignments. I wasn't in the same category as those expats. I was a different kind of expat. And consequently I have felt uncomfortable with the term expat to describe my situation. It doesn't feel like it sums up who or what I am.

Vegemite Vix (and the prompt for this blog post) posed this question on her blog: when do you stop seeing yourself as an expat and start seeing yourself as an immigrant who has moved for good?

Immigrant is defined as:

1. A person who leaves one country to settle permanently in another.

2. A plant or animal that establishes itself in an area where it previously did not exist.

I like the second definition by the way..... Can we change that to a person that establishes himself where he previously did not exist? That has a dreamy quality about it, and I can identify with that. A person that leaves one country to settle permanently in another. Permanently as in forever? Regular readers will know that I just covered that topic!  Am I an immigrant? Technically yes. Do I identify with that description? No. 

So I'm not an expat and I'm not an immigrant. Not in my eyes anyway. So what am I?

One reader of Mother in France's story offered the term "lifer" up. Not in the prison sentence way... but in the "move away forever" way. Vegemite Vix offered the term "New Dutch". Not sure what Geert Wilders would have to say about that...... Mother in France feels like an 'inbetweeny" too. 

I'm certainly not the only one with an expat identity crisis. What about you? What's a good word for us?