Deze week op Dutch Idiosyncrasies

There are many things about Dutch culture I don't understand. Like, why are all the stores closed on Mondays? Who exactly goes to church? Anyone? Or are they just pretty old reminders of when they were ruled by the Spanish, French, and Germans?

But while they may be puzzling, the idiosyncrasies of the Dutch are nothing if not amusing. Now, there are far too many to write about in one measly blog entry, but a good three came up today that are just screaming to be shared with my less-informed-of-the-Dutch-ways friends.

So here we go, in order of their appearance in my day today.

First of all, there is a word the Dutch use for emphasis, "hoor". This word can be used to make any word that precedes it more pronounced. It is mainly used after the words "ja" (yes) and "nee" (no). This is all well and good, and the Dutch like to have words to add to their sentences to give them a little flavor (sort of like verbal exclamation points), but this word is particularly unfortunate. Because every time someone says, "Nee, hoor!" I involuntarily giggle. I have been coming to this country for five years, and even though I know the language well enough and I certainly know better, I can't help thinking that everyone - from the hairdresser to my little sister - is going around calling each other whores. I mean, that would kind of make sense in this country. After all, prostitution is legal, there is a more liberal mindset, who's to say that "whore" would not become a term of endearment? Still, it is awkward when one of my half-siblings is in a fight with my stepmother and they keep saying "Nee, hoor!", because I am not very good at stifling my laughter. I do not win brownie points from either side.

Secondly, the obsession with fries is out of control here. Out. Of. Control. I understand that it's like a cultural thing or whatever, but I have never seen so many fries in my life. There is half a row of shelves dedicated to fritessaus, the mayonnaise-like sauces they dip fries in, in the Albert Heijn. Then, in the frozen foods section, literally one third of the frozen food is fries. Like, they have their own massive freezer bin with just different types of fries. And we're not just talking straight or crinkle-cut. These are intense. I thought I had seen the worst of it until my little brother brought these home for dinner:


What. The. Fuck. They are fries. That smile at you. It's like a mashed potato version of Goldfish, only wayyyyy creepier. They have holes for eyes and mouths and they sit on the plate and stare at you with a vacant glare that threatens to suck your soul into their deep-fried holes of doom. The Dutch have taken their obsession with fries too far. TOO FAR I TELL YOU!

(Apparently, not everyone agrees with me. I got this picture from a website dedicated to declaring that "Smiley Fries" are the Best Fries Ever. Ew.)

And, finally, drumroll please....

Gooische Vrouwen

...quite possibly the best Dutch invention. Ever. Like, beyond the windmill or Heineken, this takes the cake.

Where can I find the words? There are no words. Okay, yes there are. Gooische Vrouwen (roughly translated: "good wives/women") is the Dutch version of Desperate Housewives. And it's awesome. The Dutch describe it as a "soap". (For more hilarious soaps from Holland, check out the Gooische Vrouwen website.) I find this funny because American day time soaps are the dramas all the Dutch people watch at night. My stepmother and little brother and sister cannot comprehend why I do not watch Days of Our Lives and All My Children. It just does not compute. I try to explain that (A) these shows are on during the day, (B) I don't have television anyway, and (C) these shows are not necessarily the toast of American television, but that goes over their heads. Just like the Abercrombie and Fitch things. Some American trends that travel over here, however inexplicable, are too deeply ingrained for one small person to battle.

Okay, back to Gooische Vrouwen. The Dutch have shamelessly ripped off the concept of Desperate Housewives made it TEN TIMES BETTER. (Okay, so I've seen one episode of Desperate Housewives. It seemed kind of lame. This show, too, is lame, but it in Dutch and there is way more nudity and sex than is allowed on T.V. in America, so I think it wins.) The main characters are:

- Claire, the perfectionist divorce attorney who is wearing white in almost every scene just to show how much of a perfectionist she is and whose husband gets killed during the first episode (more on that later).

- Willemijn, the token fat one (we don't have one of those in America, it's a shame). She has not had sex in years ('cause she's fat! The Dutch are soooooo insensitive to different body types. Oh wait, I'm from America. Our shows don't have fat people...) but we see her husband masturbating every morning in the shower (that's right, people! Masturbation! On network television! At 8PM! Full nudity! Oh, the Dutch....) Poor Willemijn.

- Cheryl, the wife of the huge Dutch pop star Martin (an oxymoron) who is clearly having an affair behind her back while she is oblivious. She befriends Willemijn because she is fat and hasn't had sex in years and knows how to pick out hors d'oeuvres. Her life is a trial because the paparazzi keep hounding her. You know, the hordes of Dutch paparazzi. Going after the Dutch pop star. Oh yeah, this show makes tons of sense.

- Anouk, the sex pot. She flirts with any man who comes across her path, and then there are extended sex scenes in which she has sex in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the backyard, in her daughter's room, and in her art studio, and that's just the first two episodes. Her ex-husband is hot and a pilot. She has a daughter, but she doesn't seem to really have time for her. She's busy having all the sex. She has an au pair from Taiwan named Tippi Wan. This is an example of how the Dutch do not shy from insulting racial stereotypes. Anouk treats poor Tippi very badly. Apparently later in the series, in retribution, Tippi Wan uses her Asian expertise in explosives to blow up Willemijn's party. Chaos, hilarity, and sex ensues.

In the first episode, Claire's husband dies at a party thrown by Cheryl and Martin by drunkenly diving into a pool...with no water in it. It is very gruesome and there is a lot of screaming. Claire handles it like a professional, obsessing over her inheritance and avoiding hugging her daughter, who runs away to live with Willemijn's son Roderick in sin. When Claire finds the key to a safe deposit box in her deceased husband's things, she opens the box to find that he was in loads of debt and gay. Yeah, along with the bank statements there's a bunch of polaroids of him gettin' it on with another dude. Gay blow jobs caught on camera: that's how we roll in the Netherlands. Clearly she's pissed. She puts on another white pantsuit. She feels better.

There is so much more to tell, but if you've gotten this far, I'm absolutely shocked. Why have you spent this much time reading my stupid blog? Go do something else. Got nothing to do? Okay, watch a clip from Gooische Vrouwen. Night!