The Path To Now

“Try to perceive the sequence of interests, important friends, coincidences that have occurred in your life. Weren’t they leading you somewhere?” 

The Celestine Prophecy. 

I often believe now, unknown to my younger self, that the path I was on decades ago was one leading me to a life abroad. There were signs, hints and indications in my youth that I was preparing for a life beyond my birth country, that my later life would involve speaking a second language.

The allure of the sights and smells of a foreign land
Photo: Sergi Montaner

My first trip abroad was a family holiday to Tangiers in Morocco. The sound of an unfamiliar language spoken all around me, the rich vivid colours of the North African wedding attire sparkling in the hot evening sun, the enchantment of a music so different to Western pop, the smells of exotic food cooking in the streets all served to pique my curiosity about life beyond the borders of my home land.

At the end of my first year in secondary school I went on my first school trip abroad to La Rochelle. It began my love affair with France. I homed in on French and German for my GCSEs and continued French to A-Level. My love of the French language went beyond the allure of my Liverpudlian French teacher. A school trip to Berlin a year after the wall fell enticed me to be a part of something bigger. Foreign languages were a part of who I was.

When I started looking for a university course I centred my search on a French degree. I eventually picked a European Studies course in Bradford, which led to me studying in Toulouse for a year. I use the term studying lightly. I loved the smell and bustling of the local bakery every morning, loved watching the old man in a beret that shuffled to the local supermarket in his slippers, loved browsing at the snails in the freezer compartment as I did my grocery shop - trying to pluck up the courage to actually try them.

After graduation jobs with companies like Michelin kept me speaking French but as I later settled on a career in Human Resources the need to speak a second language soon dissipated.

Fascinated by the French language at an early age
Photo: Amanda van Mulligen

Did I lean towards foreign languages from an early age because I would eventually need to live my life in a language not my own? Did the family holidays abroad as a teenager to countries like Turkey, Bulgaria, America, Greece and Cyprus ignite a spark for a life abroad, a yearning to see other cultures, how others live?

As a teenager I’d envisioned a life abroad, in France, where I spoke the language and loved the culture. Somewhere along the way I got distracted and forgot where I had been headed. My linguistic mind stayed with me, unused but patiently waiting in the background whilst I strayed from the path I should have been on.

And then one day my brother met an American girl, online, in a chat room. I was clueless. I had no computer of my own and had no idea how you could ‘meet’ someone in a chat room. After what seemed like no time at all he announced he was moving to Long Island and was getting married. One family globetrotter had fled the nest. But my own path kept me firmly rooted in England.

I was finishing my Post Graduate Diploma in Human Resources and needed to write a dissertation. The absence of a computer at home made it hard to make any real progress so I asked Santa Claus for a PC. And lo and behold Santa obliged (disguised as my father) and I became the proud owner of a personal computer. It became an indispensable companion.

One evening, for a reason I can’t remember or can’t imagine when I think back, my brother’s once uttered words, “go try a chat room. It’s fun” popped into my head. I did a search and ended in a chat room talking to a Mexican. I was getting bored when a pop up appeared from another chatter. This time it was a Dutchman. My boredom vanished.

Christmas was approaching, the millennium was closing in and my days were filled with MSN Messenger and emails. After our initial meeting I never entered a chat room again. Online chatting turned into a phone call on New Year’s Eve. Talking on the telephone turned in to visits to each other’s homes.

Seven months later my boss changed at work. She had a reputation of bringing in her own people wherever she went. My business trips planned months ahead were suddenly superfluous and I whispered to my dad that something was afoot. Something bad was looming. He told me I was being paranoid.

Then one evening, sure enough, I was summoned to the dragon’s den. She informed me that my position would end in two months. Walking home with tears streaming down my face I made a call to the Netherlands with my mobile phone. I shared the lowlights of my evening and told my Dutch partner that I needed to find a job fast so that my mortgage didn’t become a problem.

“Or instead of finding a new job there, you could move to the Netherlands…” he said and I could hear the smile on his face.

And suddenly I was back on the path I was destined to walk on.

Gift Ideas Crafted By Creative Expats (2): Gadanke Journals

Beautiful journals, refill
packs and embellishments
from Gadanke

Hot on the heels of my post about soft toy Christmas gift ideas created by Luana, the expat behind La Petite Lulu, comes another fabulous gift idea, again with a discount especially for you.

This week it's Gadanke's turn in the spotlight. Christmas gifts from Gadanke are very special indeed. It's an award winning handmade journal shop using eco-friendly materials. That's it in a nutshell, but there's oh so much more.

The Story Behind Gadanke

The story of how Gadanke came about is wonderful, the idea behind the journals is heart tingling and the journals themselves are awesome.

Katie - the creativity behind Gadanke
(c) Gadanke

Here's the expat bit: Katie Clemons is the face behind Gadanke, which comes from the German word for idea or thought. Whilst living in Berlin with her German husband she crafted her first journal.

And here's another awesome bit: Katie now lives in a converted airplane hangar in the Rocky Mountains in the US, having just moved out of a tire house. You can follow the couple's creation of and move into their dream home via Katie's Making This Home blog.

But what I like best of all is that Katie's journals are more than pieces of paper strung together so that she can make a living. To Katie, it's much, much more and that is so evident in the pieces she handcrafts. She doesn't just make and sell journals, she prompts journal owners to celebrate their story, to get memories down on paper, to record the past for the future. In her own words,

"I believe story is power. It enriches our lives, challenges us to dream bigger, and strengthens future generations."

The Inspiration of Gadanke

She has a Facebook page where she regularly poses questions that often make me stop what I am doing to cast my mind back. Here's an example:

"You and I are 10 years old. It snowed 12", and now we've got the whole day to play. What should we do?"

Where do you go when you think about the answer to that question? I was instantly taken back to my childhood days with my younger brother wrapped up in winter coats, wooly hats, scarves and gloves, playing in the garden trying to make a snowman. We'd beg and forage for all the bits we could use for the snowman's eyes, nose, arms...... I hadn't been to that place for a long time! It was so great to pause and rewind to the past.

Gadanke Journals

Gadanke journals are made predominantly from recycled papers and contain not only writing prompts but embellishments such as tags, little envelopes or library cards, stickers or carnival tickets. The themed journals make the perfect gift for expats.

One of many of the Gadanke
journals which make the perfect
gift for the expat in your life
(c) Gadanke

Take the "Love where we Live" journal. Many expats move from place to place and this journal helps expats capture the essence of the place they call home. Not just bricks and mortar but what makes the town you live in tick? How does it smell? What happens there? What does the room you play in look like? Capture it. Record it. Celebrate it. When your expat adventures are over you'll have a collection of stories and memories to treasure and share with your children and their children. Take a look inside Katie's journal that she used when she lived in Berlin.

And one more idea, I've been talking a lot recently about expats passing on traditions and the culture of their birth country to their children and there's a journal to help with that too: Joy to the World. It's a journal to capture the essence of Christmas and how you celebrate it. It's a way of recording what Christmas means to you and your family no matter where you are living right now.

Christmas Journals to capture the essence of your family Christmas
no matter where you are living. What makes it different each year because
you're an expat?
(c) Gadanke

What Expat Stories Have you got to Share?

Stories of expat living cry out to be captured. Listen to what Katie has to say on this topic,

"As expats, we're venturing into this all-new territory. Even the simplest things like grabbing a few towels at the store becomes a challenge because first you have to figure out which store sells towels! You can have the funniest experiences as well as the most frustrating. I still remember my classmates in language class pronouncing my name "Kevin"! But how much of these stories would you and I remember if we didn't pause to document them? I think that it's so important for an expat to journal. Trust me. It helps you work through your experiences. It helps you celebrate them! So many former expats have told me, "I wish I'd written that down. I wish I could remember how I felt and what it was like." 

Your story matters. This adventure you're navigating through matters."

I haven't talked about the baby and wedding journals, kids' journals and the journal to help you find direction, to capture your travel adventures, to record recipes.... phew, you know what there are so many more why don't you head over to Gadanke and check it out for yourself. 

Tipping Over to the Dutch Side (1) - Being Chauffeured

As I already mentioned, I was recently back in England for a few days and I was quite alarmed to see how used to Dutch life I had become. I have realised for some time now that I exist in a world between being British and being quite a lot "Dutchified". But it would appear that with some things I have started tipping over to the Dutch side.

Left side? Right side?
(c) Amanda van Mulligen

Take for example getting in to a car. A very simple thing. However, when I was getting in to the front of my dad's car in England I had to do some swift, hard thinking about where I should be sitting. I was a passenger so I logically had to get in to the left of the English car. But this went against every grain of instinct because of so many years of getting in to the passenger side of a Dutch car so each time I had to do a double take before I headed for the correct side.

I started to understand why Europeans mutter about the Brits making life difficult with everything being on the "wrong" side.

Note to self: probably a lot easier in future to just wait for the driver to get in and then get whichever side they didn't.

There were a more things that seemed a bit foreign in England so look out for Tipping Over to the Dutch Side (2)......

Fluorescent Tape & Jackets: Taking the Thinking Out of British Health & Safety

Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam
(c) Amanda van Mulligen

I recently returned to England for a couple of days and for the first time in many years I actually flew over. I was flying to Southampton with FlyBe and instead of parking the plane in the vicinity of the airport terminal the plane was parked in Rotterdam so a bus took us from the Schiphol departure lounge to the plane. (For those not au fait with the British sense of humour, the plane was not actually parked in Rotterdam..... but it was a little bus ride from the terminal. You won't believe the blank looks I get from non-Brits when I'm being sarcastic.)

We piled off the bus onto the tarmac and formed a semi-orderly queue to go up the plane steps. The plane was a little one. Well, not like a two seater little one, but it certainly wasn't a jumbo jet. The little plane had propellors, which were turning slowly for a little while as we queued to get onto the plane.

Surprisingly no one leapt from the queue to put their head in the way of the propellors, just to see what would happen. In fact, no one moved out of line and instead continued to shuffle forward to get on the plane. No deaths, beheadings, or slight mutilations. Common sense and self-preservation prevailed.

My return flight from Southampton a few days later involved us walking a few meters from the gate to the airplane steps. Same type of airplane. Same propellors but this time no movement from the propellors. Even if they had been moving no passenger was in any danger because a fluorescent green band placed strategically around the side of the plane ensured that we could not get further than the steps leading up to the plane. No chance of a confused pensioner heading for the back of the plane, no possibility that a tall Dutchman should bang his noggin against the wing and certainly no room for a freak accident involving a propellor and a curious passenger.

Planes in Britain are more dangerous than in the
Netherlands.......
(c) Amanda van Mulligen

And if we hadn't seen the fluorescent green tape lining the plane perimeter there were strategically placed people in fluorescent green jackets to ensure that there was no straying. In short, the only way any passenger was getting anywhere near the plane was via the steps and inside.

I've heard lots of expats in Britain talking about health and safety gone mad. I've heard lots of things from family, particularly when they are over here in the Netherlands and pointing out situations that would NEVER be allowed in Britain. They comment that the British are no longer allowed to rely on common sense to keep themselves out of dangerous situations - it's all done for them with fluorescent tape and men in fluorescent jackets.

What do you think: has health and safety gone crazy in Britain? What are health and safety precautions like in the country you live in?

Texel - A Dutch Island That Feels Foreign

We recently took a break and spent a few days on Texel, the closest of the Dutch-Frisian islands (Waddeneilanden) to the Dutch mainland. From the off it feels like you are really going on holiday because you have to go on a boat. Irrelevant is the fact that it is a trip of 20 minutes and a cost of 35 euro (return).

The island of Texel is quiet (at least at the beginning of March but I fear not in the summer months) and peaceful. Driving along the narrow rural roads we often had the feeling we were the only souls around... until we bumped into a massively oversized tractor on a massively undersized road..... then we prayed.

For nature lovers, beach lovers, walkers and cyclists, Texel is a real haven and worth exploring. Our kids loved it there - the animals alone were enough to keep them happy. Here's a peek....

One of the "residents" of Ecomare
Photo: (c) The Writing Well

A seal in Ecomare's care
Photo: (c) The Writing Well

One of the many birds at Eureka Orchid and Bird Park on Texel
Photo: (c) The Writing Well

Working Dairy Farm Wezenspyk gives you the chance to see
a milking robot, where and how cheese is made and of course
the cow shed
Photo: (c) The Writing Well

Itchy cow?
Photo: (c) The Writing Well

Feeding time at Wezenspyk
Photo: (c) The Writing Well

And last but not least I want to share a photo taken on the day we were leaving. It was misty. Really misty. Visibility was very poor but the children were more than amused with the remark that we were on Misty Island as they are avid Thomas the Tank Engine fans.

Texel - aka Misty Island
Photo: (c) THe Writing Well

Crossing into Belgium

Photo: Jenny Rollo

It feels like I have been picking on Belgium a bit recently though looking back over recent blog posts I think it is more a feeling of guilt than reality. But, there is a fair bit to pick on...... A recent road trip to England was a vivid reminder for me why I really dread the minute we cross the border in the car from the Netherlands into Belgium. Here's why:

1. The road deteriorates rapidly. It suddenly feels like you are off-roading, yet remarkably stay on what is actually labelled a motorway.


2. There are car parts littering the road, a reminder of the danger that lurks around every bend when you are in Belguim. If a blown out tyre doesn't get you, a crazy Belgian driver just might.


3. You suddenly acquire a trailer. Belgians drive even more closely together than the Dutch. Need I say more?


4. My blood pressure rises. It shoots up just by seeing the Belgium sign at the border.

Oh, I know there are worse (i.e. more life threatening) places in the world to drive a car but I don't go there on a regular basis. Maybe I don't get out enough but being in a car in Belgium is the most dangerous activity I undertake every couple of months. It's terrifying.

Expat Travels: Look After Your Cards

Photo: Steve Roberts

As an expat you tend to travel a little more than the average person - whether it be to explore your new host  country, take trips back home, for business, or to get to know the countries surrounding your new home.

This also means you there's extra danger when it comes to keeping your credit and debit cards safe. Skimming is widespread, and you often don't know you have been a victim until you're back from your travels and see a rather strange (and usually large) withdrawal from your bank account that you know you haven't made. Alternatively, you get a call from your bank about your spending behaviour... either way it's not an enviable situation to be in.

Of course, it can also happen without leaving the country. There are huge instances of skimming at supermarkets, petrol stations and garden centres in the Netherlands so recognising the signs that an ATM has been tampered with, or noticing unwanted attention whilst using your PIN or withdrawing money are handy habits to develop.

Europol (courtesy of my husband) has issued general guidelines and precautions to help you keep your credit and debit cards safe. Visit "Be Smart With Your Card" for all the information you need.

A Service Station, But Not As You Know It

As I mentioned in my last post I just popped over to England for a week and during the journey through the Netherlands, Belgium and France ideas for blog posts came flooding in (writing them down whilst travelling on Belgian roads was a challenge in itself - but more about that in another post). One thing that came to mind was service stations.

Stopping off to fill up and stretch your legs - service stations
(c) The Writing Well

Coming from the UK, I grew up with long road trips broken by toilet breaks and lunches or suppers in service stations. The quality of the facilities was reasonable and there was always a fair bit to occupy a curious child during a stop off. The most exciting type of service station was one on the other side of the motorway - we needed to walk across an enclosed bridge stretching across the motorway. Trust me, as a child it was exciting...... really, how often do you walk over a motorway?

Nowadays, motorway services in the UK are more and more commercial and seem to resemble mini shopping centres, contain an array of eating options from the big fast food chains and beverage choices from the major coffee house companies as well as a petrol station to fill up at. They also contain arcade amusements, WIFI areas, picnic areas and some even have a hotel to rest your weary head in. Oh, and there always seems to be a man trying to sell you breakdown cover or a credit card.

In the Netherlands a service station seems to comprise a petrol station selling sandwiches and coffee, a toilet you have to pay for and in essence a car park that is a cross between a lorry park and a giant dustbin. This pretty much sums up service stations in Belgium too, though in my experience the toilet facilities in Belgium are generally not great (and maybe explains why you see so many Belgians using the car park as a public toilet) and many places also have a baffling voucher/turnstile system for the toilet. In essence you pay 50 cents and you get a voucher. With this voucher you gain entry to the toilet facilities and then use the voucher in the shop as credit towards a purchase. So if you were going to buy something anyway, you essentially wee for free.

And that brings me to France. There are two types of service areas in France - one fit for humans, the other less so. The "toilet block in the middle of nowhere" aires de repos areas are common and easy to find along the motorway. You can usually smell the toilets before you leave your car and my best tip is to watch the faces of others leaving the toilet block before you venture in. You need to supply your own toilet paper (the French know this but us tourists are often caught out) and a torch certainly comes in handy. There is generally nothing else there, except for maybe a child's play area and a bit of grass or a bench to picnic on. The second type are service areas (aires de service) as are common elsewhere in Europe with fit -for-use toilets, a petrol station, eating facilities and a shop.

Bon voyage!

What are service stations like in your home country? What are your experiences like of stop offs during road trips from the Netherlands?

Country Hopping from the Netherlands

One of the many things I love about living in the Netherlands is the fact that we can jump in the car and drive to any number of countries - we can be "abroad" without the use of an aeroplane or ferry in no time at all. Given that I am a Brit this is a big thing!

Our latest venture to foreign lands was a two week vacation in Lower Normandy in France. We jumped in the car and off we drove.... well, when I say jumped in the car..

What I actually mean is we spent days accumulating the essentials for a family of four to take with us, had a last minute panicked scramble around at 6 a.m. on the morning of our departure to gather the real essentials such as favourite toys, musical Pooh Bear sleeping aid for my 4 year old, sandwiches, drinks and DVDs......., spent 90 minutes packing the car up, bundled two sleepy, grumpy children in to the car and then hit the road. After ten minutes we stopped to sort the car DVD player out..... an hour later we stopped for a toilet break after hearing "ik moet plassen" fifty times....... you get the picture.



Eight hours after we left our home in Zuid-Holland we arrived tired but relieved at our gite in Longues Sur Mer on the Normandy coast.

The Beach at Longues Sur Mer (c) The Writing Well 2011

Normandy Shop Front (c) The Writing Well 2011

Shell Covered Beach at Port-en-Bessin (c) The Writing Well 2011

View from the Gites in Longues sur Mer (c) Lars van Mulligen

Two weeks later, after a fantastic break, we did the same journey in reverse...... and it was worth every minute in the car.

What not to do on a Danish Beach

My latest article has been published on Velvet Escape (a brilliant travel blog run by Keith Jenkins). The article is part of a series about unforgettable travel memories and is about being stranded in a car on the beach - it's not something I can recommend you do as part of your next holiday but it certainly went down in the book as a "travel memory". The good news is that, as always, taking precautions can save your butt......

The full article is available on the Velvet Escape blog at http://velvetescape.com/blog/2011/04/what-not-to-do-on-a-danish-beach/

Driving Through Four Countries - An Exercise in Self-Preservation

I recently travelled back to the UK for a visit. We went by car using the Eurotunnel and hence travelled in a number of countries in one day: the Netherlands, Belgium, France and England. And the different driving 'styles' struck me.....

A12 in the Netherlands
Photo:L van Mulligen

It's not the first time I've mentioned it, but the Dutch do tend to like to stick close together on the motorway in the fast lane. It's called tailgating and it's actually illegal. Luckily most Dutch drivers who tailgate don't know this or simply don't care - and there aren't many police around to remind them on the motorways so it happens. It happens a lot. In fact it was actually pinpointed as the biggest annoyance for Dutch road users in 2010. Presumably it annoys the majority of Dutch drivers who think some distance between them and the car in front or behind is sensible and not those who glue themselves to the bumper in front. So that was my most notable observation on the Dutch motorways.

Then we passed into Belgium. You can usually tell that you have crossed the border as the quality of the road surface deteriorates dramatically. And as you jiggle your way down the motorway, something becomes very apparent. Belgian drivers are mad. They make Dutch drivers look tame. They tear down the fast lane with disregard to any speed limits (I learnt that foreigners caught speeding are treated severely by the police whereas the locals are not really bothered by law enforcement officers until they travel at the speed of space shuttles...) and they criss cross lanes as if they are the only vehicle on the road. Something worth watching out for in Belgium are cars with only five figures in the licence plate - these are drivers who obtained their driving licence with a pack of milk many decades ago (or at least they didn't have to take a driving test) ..... and the cars usually show much evidence of this.

Then we hit France. What redeems French drivers is that any driver probably looks good once you've escaped the Belgian roads unscathed. However, the French do something that none of their neighbours do - they keep their indicator on in the fast lane to let you know that they need to get past and they are not just using the fast lane to overtake - they are using the outer lane as their very own personal road to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Therefore, you really need to move over because they have priority. And there is no point just putting your ticker on - you're a foreigner and you still don't have 'fast lane priority'.

And then you drive onto the Eurotunnel train and marvel at how you've made it so far. It's time to sit and relax for the short trip under the Channel to Folkestone before your journey takes you on to the British motorways.

And then you notice the middle of the road attitude of English drivers. They sit in the middle lane of the motorway for no apparent reason. To legally pass them from the 'slow' lane you have to cross over to the 'fast lane' and then cut back to the furthest left lane. And they remain oblivious to the fact that they are causing mayhem around them as drivers criss cross to pass them. Some pass on the left, others on the right, but to no avail. I eventually worked out that some English drivers believe you have to pick a lane when you join the motorway and stick to it - no matter what. Horns. Lights. Cutting them up. None of it works.

So there you have it - Van Mulligen's observations of some of Europe's main highways. You have been warned.

Keeping a Ford Mondeo Together the Dutch Way?

 This post may seem a little off topic but I have to ask. Is it just me or are Ford Mondeos on Dutch roads all held together with duct tape? It seems like any Ford Mondeo in this country comes with free (black or grey) duct tape which can be optionally used on the front or back bumpers. It may even be a mandatory thing only known about by Mondeo owners.

Is this a Dutch phenomena or is it worldwide?

To answer this question I googled Mondeo and duct tape - and guess what.... there is a whole world out there that non-Mondeo car owners are excluded from. It is a known thing.... and there are 'ford and gaffer tape' appreciation societies and fora. It is bizarre. Apparently there is no known reason for the strange phenomena....... these particular Ford bumpers just break easily but with love and tender patching can continue for years in a less than perfect state.

Next time you are out and about, take a moment to check out any Ford Mondeos you come across.... report back if they have been patched up with duct tape. Better still, if you are a Mondeo owner, share your bumper tales with us.....