Vandaag heb ik voor de eerste keer in mijn leven gestemd. Niet in Libanon, waar ik vandaan kom, maar in Nederland. Vier jaar geleden, toen ik net naar Amsterdam was verhuisd, kon ik niet stemmen. Ik twijfelde tussen GroenLinks en D66. Dit jaar heb ik naar bijna alle debatten tussen de verschillende partijen en hun programma’s gekeken. Ik twijfelde nog: ga ik voor PvdA, die hun stemmers in de vorige jaren teleurgesteld hebben? Of voor GroenLinks? Die zijn te “politiek correct” en dat lijkt me soms onrealistisch. Of D66, die om eerlijk te zijn oorspronkelijk mijn voorkeurspartij waren?
Nee, niet met Sigrid Kaag als lijsttrekker. Toen ze in Libanon werkte als UN Special Coordinator for Lebanon, heeft haar bureau een e-mail gestuurd naar alle VN werknemers (inclusief mijzelf) om ons te verbieden om een deel te nemen aan de betogingen tegen de corruptie van de Libanese regering in 2015, en hun slechte aanpak van de afvalcrisis. Dit vond ik ondemocratisch en een beetje hypocritisch van haar. Als Libanees had ik het recht om te demonstreren. Dit zou niet in Nederland gebeuren bijvoorbeeld. Ik had ook hetzelfde gevoel toen ik naar één van Kaags interviews luisterde: ze zei dat het ze geen nee kon zeggen tegen een ‘eerste’ baan bij Shell, ondanks dat dit bedrijf activiteiten had in Zuid-Afrika tijdens de apartheid. Dus voor mij was ze niet iemand die echt staat voor principes. Het ging over de omstandigheden; dit is de houding van diplomaten. Een partij leider is geen diplomaat maar een politicus.
Voor wie heb ik dan gestemd? Volt. Een nieuwe partij die net is begonnen in de politieke sfeer en die Europa steunt. Daarin geloof ik, vooral om dat ik uit een erg verdeeld deel van de wereld kom. Een sterke EU is belangrijk voor de groei van Nederland. Ik wil ook een kans geven aan een groep mensen met nieuwe ideeën, net als ik een kans kreeg toen ik naar Nederland kwam.
What a rewarding feeling to know that your vote can and will make a difference. An essential process in any real democracy in the world.
Looking back on the past twelve months: family time, travel, celebrations, love and nature
Meeting my sister at Amsterdam airport Schiphol. The feeling you get when seeing a loved one after a long time (a year or so) is an overwhelming happiness.The new addition to the family: Wolf (a She wolf). Needless to stay, she is the cutest thing ever! A Stabyhoun, originally from Friesland in the north of The Netherlands, this furry friend follows me everywhere I go and watches every move I make. Wolfie (her nickname) is sweet, smart and a little stubborn on occasion.King’s Day in Amsterdam in April. Everyone is celebrating the birth of the king. Some parade on boats in the canals with music, beer and orange accessories or clothes (Orange is the national color here – the color of the Dutch royal family – unlike in Lebanon, where it represents a certain party, which I don’t particularly favor – not that I favor any other).This is a great book: light, fun and pretty straight to the point. That was not a bookstore. For some reason, the shop owner decided to display random items / objects in the vitrine. Nothing made sense and he just did not give a f**k. If Amsterdam was a season, it should definitely be Autumn. It constantly feels like you’re walking in a painting. This photo was taken in Vondelpark, a must visit for a stroll, a bike ride, a book read or just to sit on the grass and enjoy the silence (as long as it lasts; it’s pretty busy in summer) Maastricht, what a beauty. It is one of my favorite cities in The Netherlands; old and picturesque. The red stones of Saint John’s cathedral make it unmissable. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas… Around the Rijksmuseum, you can smell hot chocolate, sausages, pea soup, glühwein and maybe skate. Using a chair is not frowned upon; no one expects you to skate like the Dutch. I was riding my bicycle that day and for the first time I saw that the lakes were frozen. Small ducks were actually walking on ice. Again, I took this photo in Vondelpark. The first time I was at the gay pride in Amsterdam was by chance in 2008, during a trip around Europe. It was amazing to see how free people can be, to be able to express themselves so openly. I am all for “extreme” (as a friend called such an event) celebrations of love if only to counter hatred towards the gay community in so many parts of the world. May love always win!Salzburg, twenty years later. This city holds a special place in my heart. It is where I spent a three-months holiday with my sisters, met many interesting people, made friends and put on a lot of weight (thanks to schnitzels and potato salads). Those were incredible times.Amsterdam by night. Doesn’t it look magical? I was told that all these lamps on the many canals of the city used to be lit by hand back in the eighteenth century. A walk by night here is a must to discover this place under a different light. Save the best for last: the Bekaa valley. It is a high plateau between Lebanon’s two mountain ranges that serves as the country’s primary agricultural district. It is definitely worthwhile to visit the various towns and villages in and around it, to have lunch at a winery and enjoy the view. This photo was taken from Tawlet Ammiq restaurant.
I have never voted. I’m not proud of it, but in my country elections’ results are usually known way in advance. Besides, you can only vote for candidates in the village where your father comes from (or your husband, after you marry) – don’t get me started on women’s rights – even if you have never lived there. Or if it’s on the other side of the country. So your choices are quite limited. And pointless. Lebanese politicians also often manage to pass on their position to their sons, sons in law or cousins (by mobilising or intimidating enough people to vote for them).
Some of them don’t age or die. I remember that when I was a kid, I thought our speaker of parliament was a vampire. He has been holding his position for over 25 years and he looks exactly the same as when I was a kid. And acts the same. He just is. No matter how many elections pass by.
Now that I am in the Netherlands, and although I cannot vote (not yet at least), I am following the parliamentary elections closely. Like many Dutch, I turned to an online guide to know where I stand – obviously out of curiosity – in today’s elections. What you go through in this quiz, is a series of propositions that have been debate topics or were brought up by the various parties. They focus on immigrants and refugees, culture and art, infrastructure, health care, euthanasia for the elderly, discrimination in recruitment, permanent and flex contracts, obligatory unpaid work for youth (only baby boomers come up with that), etc. You answer ‘agree’, ‘disagree’, ‘neither,’ or skip the question. And voilà, you get your parties ranked by percentage of agreement with your answers.
Being an immigrant amidst the rise of far-right politicians and populism in Europe made me want to understand as much as possible the changes that are happening to the Dutch political scene as they will affect my life in the next four years. I answered all 30 questions in the quiz, with my husband explaining from time to time some Dutch words I did not understand and of course trying to influence my answers. It did not work though, I was pretty firm with him.
At the Top 1 and 2 were Denk and Artikel 1 at 66%, with ChristenUnie at 62% and D66 at 59%. I didn’t expect these results, especially that I never heard of Denk or Artikel 1 before. My first choice was actually D66 followed by GroenLinks. The bottom line is that you need to have a thorough look at the history and future plan of every party before you vote. As I heard, some parties – like the PvdA (labor party) – have made many promises in the past that did not lead to positive results in practice.
Polls close at nine in the evening and preliminary results are expected around midnight. Here’s to hoping.
Summer drew its final breath in the Dutch capital. The sun sets earlier now, around 5:00 in the afternoon, and does not rise before 7:30 in the morning. Temperatures have dropped from above 20 degrees Celsius to below 10. There hasn’t been any sort of “smooth” transition between summer and autumn – which looks more like winter to me. Except that we were lucky for the last few days. This kept me wary about the coming months of January and February, when winter actually sets in with a vengeance from what I hear. Brrrrr! It’s going to be cold. You’ve got to understand that for a Mediterranean sun-worshipper like me, this is cause for considerable concern. I mean, people in my country are still hitting the beach in October. Rain doesn’t start falling before December.
However, now that I’m in Amsterdam, I have decided to embrace the weather. Testament to my vast amounts of courage is my solid decision to go out no matter what. But we will see how I feel when it drops below zero. The chilly, windy and wet autumn season reminded me of a Lebanese friend who stayed for a few years in The Netherlands. He had a tendency to spend his time indoors, probably huddled in blankets sneezing his way through the afternoon, whenever the weather was cold, dark and gloomy. So you know. A lot.
Obviously this isn’t the case for the Dutchies; nothing can stop them from going out and riding their bicycles whether rain or wind or ice. So I did what everyone else does, “occasionally” took my bicycle instead of the tram, but without managing to hold an umbrella at the same time. I haven’t mastered that yet. Maybe global warming will turn Holland into a sun-lover’s paradise before I do that trick. Until then, I am enjoying the most beautiful of seasons.
**Autumn in Amsterdam is marked by golden colours, cosiness, good food and culture (i.e: Museum night).
Yes I did. And no, I wasn’t that desperate to get married, especially to this guy. Because obviously marrying the next-door neighbour makes it to the top of the list of romantic clichés. But it is not everyday that I run into a good-looking super-blond dude on the stairs at 1 A.M., asking me for a lighter. And then inviting me for a bottle of wine (a bottle!) at his place, full of confidence. (Again: one in the morning!) That night, we ended up chatting for a bit at my doorstep and we agreed that it would be a less upfront idea to meet for a coffee during the day. The month that followed witnessed frequent knocking on my door for sugar, salt, lemon, olive oil, painkillers, you name it. Then the handsome neighbour moved to a different part of Beirut. Three months after, we started dating and I insisted we keep it light and simple, no serious business. Three years later we got married. Last weekend we celebrated our one-year anniversary in Amsterdam, the blond dude’s home town.
And what better way to celebrate love than with music. We made our ‘katoenen huwelijk’ a three-day Dutch-musical-festival-integration-fest. With a couple of beers on the back of the bicycle, we headed to Frankendael Park, east of Amsterdam where Tchaikovsky’s Pique dame (Queen of spades) was broadcasted on a big screen, live from the National Opera & Ballet. The three-hour opera revolves around the obsessive desire for becoming rich through gambling. Aside from the story plot, I was fascinated by the beauty and clarity of sounds, their dramatic intensity and resonance filling the open air. It was sunny and warm after a week of constant rain. Those who arrived early found a place to sit. Those who were late, rested on picnic blankets drinking wine and soaking up the sun.
The next day we headed to another kind of music performance in Wormerveer – a small town 23 minutes away from Amsterdam. How did I end up there? Well, a friend was playing in a band and we wanted to see her. When we arrived, we saw a completely different crowd. People watching the opera the day before in the park had an intellectual, upper-classy look. Today, the audience seemed to be from the work hard, play hard crowd. Many looked like working-class middle-aged men and women, and most sported tattoos, piercings and/or dreadlocks. The location of the festival used to be a squat. Leftist and anti-fascist signs were still hanging on the walls inside the bar. What I thought was a meat sandwich at one of the kiosks turned out to be a falafel. I didn’t recognise it, but that’s what they called it. There was only vegetarian food.
Although I felt a little strange and out of place, there was something very genuine about these people. They seemed tough; like whatever life throws at them they’ll take. The festival was small but a lot of fun. There were five bands, mostly local, except for the one band a friend of ours played the drums in: Le Garage from Utrecht. It’s a little like a Dutch version of the (awesome!) Lebanese Wanton Bishops. Their music was mostly alternative blues/rock with a deep delivery of rhythm and blues. We danced till sunset – which means 10:30 P.M here, this time of year.
Later that weekend, as part of my integration and assimilation process with the local culture (smiley!), we did what many Dutch people are obsessed with whenever the rain stops and the sun pops out for a moment: go out and play! Our last stop on this musical weekend was at Parkpop in the Hague, one of the biggest free pop festivals in Europe. There were four stages with continuous national and international bands of all kinds. And to my surprise, K’s choice – my favourite Belgian band – was playing. It reminded me of my evening runs at the Corniche near the sea in Beirut, when I used to listen to “Not an Addict”, one of their best-known songs. There were more than 270,000 visitors at the Parkpop that day, from different nationalities, backgrounds and musical preferences. They got together with no trouble at all. No fights, no accidents whatsoever (although I understand that’s not always the case). Everyone was enjoying the music, the food and the cold beer.
The anniversary weekend ended with a romantic brunch that my sweet husband prepared: a cold bottle of Prosecco, strong and smooth warm coffee, tasty salmon, succulent parma ham, fresh bread and juice, sunny side up eggs, a variety of fruits and of course the yellow Dutch cheese (yummy). It was perfect.
Life in Orange 
