So long, and thanks for all the fish

Recently, I decided to resign and leave the Netherlands as of 1 September. That also means this will be my final column for EM, offering me a chance to reflect on this chapter of my life while gathering the courage to turn the page and start over.

When I first arrived in Rotterdam in 2020, I was still a columnist for Maastricht University’s Observant. Ironically, my final column there was about my move to Rotterdam, and my judgment back then was harsh. In a way, my experience here is best reflected in my disagreement with those initial words. I still think Rotterdammers could smile more, but in fairness, given the global state of affairs since, smiling might soon qualify as a delusional disorder.

The Rotterdam experience has been a rollercoaster, with some major successes, like launching our FLP master’s program, often overshadowed by difficult personal circumstances. From the start, the pandemic set the tone. It arrived soon after I did, and being confined to a new apartment in a new city, meeting colleagues only through a camera, quickly drained my early enthusiasm and depleted my willingness to build deeper relationships. That turned out to be a bigger handicap than even tearing my knee ligaments around the same time. So, I leave with the regret of not investing more time in connecting with my colleagues. That kind of support at work is more important than we often like to admit.

Being an academic is a lonely job, but being an expat is sometimes a lonely world. Every connection and act of kindness counts double. People who think internationals uproot their lives out of pure adventure have probably never stood at an airport with a one-way ticket and two suitcases of a lifetime. Only those who have said those goodbyes know the pressure to succeed, not just for themselves, but to justify all the sadness and anxiety caused to those they left behind. The longer you stay, the more you work to justify missing everything back home, from weddings to funerals. It becomes a cycle of guilt, relief, and joy you often do not get to share. Luckily, from time to time, you meet people who make you feel grounded, even though your roots are elsewhere. Often, they are other internationals, but if they happen to be Dutch, you get the bonus of free translations.

So, for the closure of this chapter and this column, I choose to express my gratitude. It goes to everyone who, in any way, supported me and my fellow internationals. It especially goes to those who never expected gratitude in return, because internationals already carry a permanent sense of indebtedness. As the situation for internationals in the Netherlands seems likely to grow more difficult, I will end with this:

To all internationals, students, colleagues, and friends: You are valuable, and always choose to surround yourself with people who make you feel like it. The Netherlands has plenty of such people to offer.