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.