Growing up

Dedicated to Kwek, my baby sister

At the moment I am starting to write this, I am far away from my pc. It is a tiny idea in the back of my head, where the idle thoughts usually form, that grabs on to seemingly unrelated feelings and pours it into this text. At our farewell party, as we are packing up our suitcases and lives, in the plane...

As I was growing up my mom always used to say the right thing at the right moment. We, as her daughters, would sit in (ok, sometimes pretended) awe and marvel at her wisdom. She always used to say, that when she got older, she would write a book called 'Emma's wijsheden' (Emma's wisdom). The funny thing is, that the greatest lessons I learned from my mom, are the ones given by example.

The greatest wisdom that I got from her is: Nee heb je al, ja kun je krijgen (You've already got no, you could get yes), which combined with my personality got me places at a very young age, especially careerwise. You can only rise to meet expectations that are above your normal comfortzone. If and when you fall flat on you face, which you undoubtedly will sometimes, think lesson two: I can't do more than my best and chalk it up to experience. To this I added my own lesson: To overcome the initial disappointment, first bake and then eat cake. (Hmmm...suddenly a whole new explanation of my cake-baking abilities jump to mind....)

Another thing that I learned is that growing up is all about making choices.
When you feel that you have no choice, it can suffocate you into all sorts of trouble. At a certain point in your life, the choices start to become increasingly more difficult. Do I leave the island I grew up on, to seek my fortune elsewhere? Do I stop going to school and go work fulltime? Do I choose for the man that I love or do I love me more? Do I stay in this well-paying job even though I want to tear my eyes out because I am SO bored, because there is a worldwide recession?
Or in the case of my mother: do I go on organizing a vakantieplan for 300 kids, even though we've got no money? Lesson number 3: It is better to be sorry about things you tried that didn't take, than be sorry about things you didn't try. So you have to live back at home for a while, because you can't afford rent after leaving a situation that was not good for you. Or maybe you have to find a temporary position because you did not get you dreamjob. Or you find yourself washing toilets because you and you husband are saving up for a worldtrip...(no worry guys, we're not there yet). We sometimes forget, that even in our worst situations, there are people that are worse off than we are. Lesson number 4: You can always find time, resources and energy to help another, as long as you have life. This is also the reasoning behind: where 3 can eat, 4 can eat.

It is scary, jumping into anything new, whether you are 17, 19 or 30. Leaps of faith is what sculpts you into the person you are in the end. And even though we do not come from money, we are well equiped to face the world with what we got growing up.

...with a little help from our friends....

Saying goodbye was not easy, but we managed with a lot of help from our friends.

One of our last challenges was to get everything in our suitcases. Packer Magnificus Jarett found a worthy mate in Inge and pulled off fitting 54 kilos into the 2 Samsonites, making it look soooo easy. Inge took around 15 kilos home in her own luggage, saving us from having to leave more stuff behind.

Marieke provided the sushi when we got hungry, but due to the big knot in my stomach, my last Matsuri meal consisted of only 7 pieces. (The crew of our outbound flight did not mind, as they got the leftovers...)

Leaving the house behind was very, very hard. That was the house where we met, courted, got engaged and had our wedding, so it was like leaving a part of our history behind.

Our next break was checking in. As we were some of the first to check in, the lady behind the counter was still fresh and happy and gave us a break by not charging us the 4 extra kilo's @ Naf 36 a piece.

I won't even try to describe how crappy it was to leave ma, pa and Lisa behind. Let's just say that the people standing in line with us waiting for customs did not see the most charming side of me and those tissues I bought for Naf 7 (!!!) were worth every penny.

Once at the gate I was extremely happy to get extra hugs from Inge, before she boarded the plane. We were lucky to have a flight with 40 empty seats, so after an emotional take-off, our extremely diplomatic flight attendant offered the creep next to me at the windowseat another seat at the other side of the plane, so we could have 3 seats for the two of us. We were happy enough like that, but it got even better. We already had our wooden shoes slippers for on board, but Inge had brought along my vaas and for Joris the bubble-addict a big bottle of Spa Rood. And she had a question. What do we prefer, being served by her during the flight, or be moved to the business class?

We really couldn't believe our luck, we could lie down 180 degrees and did so. The food was EXCELLENT! The time flew by and before you knew it, we were in Holland.

We're good to go!

All the stamps are in and we are officially no longer registered citizens of the island of Curacao. Very weird feeling! Today we had the final round of queues: Kranshi, Vreemdelingendienst, UTS, bank and by lunch we were done. A few more days to stuff the last things in our suitcases and finally, finally to go the beach (even if rains cats and dogs, we are still going!).

Lost in translation

Curacao is an island of many, many cultures. Growing up here has the benefit of knowing many languages, nationalities and their customs and enjoy all the different cuisines. It is only after being away for a few years, that I came back and saw that what I considered typical Yunan di Korsou (child of Curacao, someone born here) were in fact 2nd generation arabics, 10th generation portugese imigrants and so on. (Trying to leave the island married to a Dutch immigrant has shown me another whole new side of the community). Some things, though, are just not translatable. There just are no words for that specific feeling, emotion or custom in another language.
In the last few weeks everybody on the island was wearing their original national colors out and proud, during the World Cup. Slowly but surely the favorites were being sent home and by default for some, by conviction for others, the island started to color Orange. Every match that NL won, brought on spontaneous honking parades of many, many cars through our street and the students next to us would play Andre Hazes and Guus Meeuwis until our ears bled.

At times like these, being part of the Dutch Kingdom is at it's best. The ambiance is great and is us against the rest of the world.

Trying to get to the beach was a big goal for Joris and I this week, but impossible to achieve, so for the last match of the Cup we decided to go to Port Mari to watch the game at the beach. It was a nerve-wrecking match and the ending was not at all what we all hoped, but we are proud of our team anyway.

The one thing that will stand out the most of this afternoon is this: as it was almost time for the match to begin, Marieke and I started to dry off and put on our orange gear. Marieke's Bavaria dress got a lot of attention, especially from the other Dutch people on the beach. We got a lot of weird looks from the non-Dutch visitors. One of them came up to me and asked: 'What does it mean that: hup?' (He pronounced it hoop oftewel hoep in het nederlands, I still have to laugh everytime I think about it)

Death & Taxes

They say nothing in life is sure but death and taxes. After many, many hours at the tax office I must agree that I now have a death-wish. Or better yet, a kill-wish.....

People always say that I don't have patience. People who know me better might know better. I can spend hours and hours decorating a cake, or doing any kind of arts and crafts project. I can explain anything to anyone until I am blue in the face, if that person really wants to learn. There are just certain things that I do not care to put up with.

Let's just say that these last few weeks and especially the last few days have given me room to expand other people's opinion (ahum..Joris...) of how patient I can be. I have even found the time to come up with a short manual of how to leave the island.

DIY Manual

for people considering to abandon the island of Curacao

Step 1: Really, really think about it. Do you really want to leave? It will take a considerate amount of energy to achieve this. If you are not sure, DON'T!

Step 2: Start early, at least 10-12 weeks in advance. Especially if you are not born here, or married to someone not born here. It is no longer possible to leave the island on a guarantee certificate (this is new, as of 01-06-2010) for the tax office.

Step 3: Don't believe anything one person tells you at any 'loket', reception, security post. Ask a second and possibly a third person and look on the website, just in case. The truth will lay somewhere in the middle. In reality the truth changes depending on who you speak to. If at all possible, get information in writing (if you do, make a picture of the moment and send it to me, I would loooove to see that...). If they tell you to come back for something on a certain day, start calling a day before to make sure it will be ready for you.

Step 4: Be prepared to wait. Mentally and physically. In my case this means carrying snacks, drinks, an always fully charged I-pod and a book. In case you have a tiny bladder, like me, remember that banks don't let you use their bathrooms. Try to make it fun, you have to go through it anyway.

Step 5: Plan well, some offices are open at odd hours, others are closed on Fridays. Try to avoid banks on the last and first days of the month. In our case, during the World Cup Matches where Argentina, Brasil or Portugal were playing, the lines were a lot shorter everywhere.

Step 6: Make copies of all documents you receive and submit. Scan them and store them online so you can access them on anyone's pc.

Step 7: Be with somebody that speaks to local language to avoid any misunderstandings. This will save you some time sitting in the wrong queue. The security guards of most public offices just don't care or delight in the fact that they know more than you do and might misinform you on purpose. Try to avoid them and speak with a real employee.

Step 8: Don't lie to, yell at, threaten, hit or kill any public office employees, as it might delay your departure from the island. Even though some of them are only there to fill out their seats and don't have one ounce of servicemindedness in their unusually colossal asses, you will have to deal with them on their terms. And sometimes, suddenly, you will come across a person that will go out of her way to help. Really appreciate these little miracles.

We still have a week to go, and we really, really thought, stupidly enough, that these last weeks would be spend at the beach, sipping drinks with umbrella's....Let's just hope that on Friday Joris gets his last tax stamps and we can finally go queue somewhere else. We need a change of scenery...

To blog or not to blog....

After giving this a lot of thought, I decided to give it a try: I am starting a blog. Especially with all the adventures we are going through trying to leave this island and our trip ahead, I think it will be easy to fill.
This is the test run. I promise the next messages will be more fun and I will get better at this!

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