Before you google yet another one of my invented diseases and subsequently begin to question the title of this story, let me tell you this. With a new academic year having begun and a shiny new batch of freshmen accompanying it, the university is full of people suffering from the so-called octopus syndrome.
One of the main causes of friction with my friends can be resumed to our different beliefs about the definition of pannenkoek as opposed to crêpes. Their desire to retrograde crêpes to a sub-type of pannenkoek chills my spine and brings out my French pride. This debate, as strange and low key as it seems - and is -, is but a symptom of my nature within my friend group: I am French amongst six Dutch people.
When I first moved to America, I initially refused to speak English for the first 3 months because “Les Français parlent Français” or in other words, French people speak French. I was 3 years old. I soon realized that I had to ask for permission to go to the bathroom. Thus prioritizing dry pants over my French pride, my life as a bilingual began. Little did I know at that time that this new skill I was developing would split my personality in two.
When I moved to the Netherlands, I was really looking forward to freedom from my parents, a new culture and bad weather. What I didn’t expect, was to be put in a box.
A person without roots, having spent a significant part of my life abroad, I quickly established some when I arrived to study Sustainable Innovation. I think that it has to do with my French charm and the fact that I don’t have, what people claim is, an irritating accent. But zat really doesn’t matter here though because I’ll be writing not talking. I hope you’ll enjoy me rambling on about Dutch people, university life and just myself in general.