The blessing of being homesick

This is a column I wrote for my international journalism class and will be published in the campus newspaper:

Having lived in the Netherlands for three months I expected to feel very settled, but the closer it gets to Christmas the more homesick I feel. Culture shock is said to go in phases, first the honeymoon period, then disintegration, re-integration, autonomy and independence. I am firmly stuck in the disintegration period at the moment.

Homesickness creeps up on you when you least expect it and about the weirdest things. Having lived away from home for three years now and not once getting homesick – it’s strange that I am suddenly afflicted with it. It’s not family I miss particularly, nor friends, it’s just that feeling of home.

It’s going to work and getting a Boots meal deal, it’s mince pies and brandy butter, it’s walking to university, it’s fish and chips and being constantly offered a ‘cuppa’. I’m not patriotic, I’m not particularly proud to be British but right now I have a yearning to be back with the familiar.

To hear British accents when I go outside and to understand what is being said in shops and on buses – to not feel like I only understand half of my surroundings. It’s the language barrier that makes the experience of living abroad so lonely. It’s not until you can’t do something that you realise how important it is – listening to grannies having a natter on the bus is one of those things. Knowing what to say in shops is so undervalued, I constantly have to pray they won’t ask if I want a receipt – however hard I try I cannot remember that vocabulary. I miss understanding everything and being understood and not feeling like people have to go out of their way to accommodate for me.

I love it here. It really is starting to feel like home, it’s not that I’m miserable. That’s the thing with homesickness, everything can be great but still you know something is missing. A nagging feeling reminding you that this isn’t home and that is what makes it so difficult. There is the desperate desire to seize every opportunity and make the most of the time you have. Realising sometimes you need to sit out and let yourself be homesick feels like a waste of valuable time – but what it does is makes you realise what you’ve got.

Feeling homesick is horrible – but it forces you appreciate everything just that little bit more and really that’s a blessing.

The 1975 & International Journalism

A while back (4th October) I went to go see The 1975 in Utrecht and ended up reviewing it for my International Journalism course. I thought I would post it here as well, so here goes (apologies for the shocking headline). Many thanks to the very lovely Anna for buying these tickets and super sorry you couldn’t come – next time!

2.5 bottles of wine later: an incredible performance by The 1975

Emma Healey reviews the 1975 in Utrecht.

“I’m sorry I don’t speak Dutch. Please don’t see it as a reflection of my ignorance, see it as a reflection of your intelligence.” – Matt Healy

With a sold-out performance at TivoliVrendenburg as part of a world tour, it is clear that The 1975 have burst on to the music scene – a far cry from the years of rejection by numerous record companies, and even last year performing at the Camden Barfly. These years of hardship however have only served to improve them as a band and their time experimenting with different genres have left them with a sound that bridges the gap between pop-punk and indie- and electro-rock. A blend that situates them perfectly as a band for the millennials – but it is a testament to their talent that their appeal stretches beyond this. They have been well-received by music critics and their self-titled debut album reached number 1 on the UK albums chart.

As the latest export of Manchester’s music scene, The 1975 step in the footsteps of artists such as Oasis. Whilst they are an extremely talented foursome, it is clear that the androgynous, tattooed front-man Matt Healy is the shining star and heartthrob of the group. As the son of Denise Welch, Coronation Street and Waterloo Road, and Tim Healy, Auf Wiedersehen, Pet, he is no stranger to the lime-light and from his performance it is clear that he thrives on the attention and the adoration of his (largely female) fan base. Whether he is dancing, smoking or drinking copious amounts of wine (a total of two and a half bottles during the two hour set), he is met with screams – something Healy hugely plays with in his interactions with the crowd.

Photo by me

At a sold-out gig consisting predominantly of well-established fans, the atmosphere was fantastic, particularly during their hits such as “Sex” and “Chocolate” which the crowd enthusiastically sung along to. The electricity during the better-known songs as well as the skill of the tech team succeeded in carrying this atmosphere through slower and less popular songs that otherwise could have fallen flat.

The lively atmosphere, charismatic performance and raw talent make The 1975 one to watch out for – if this performance was anything to go by, it shouldn’t be long before they are selling out stadiums.

General catch-up

I haven’t blogged in a while mainly because I have had 2 pretty busy weeks, I hadn’t forgotten I promise! I think I’ll split it up into 2 blog posts just so there’s not too much to read.

I got my first journalism assignment back on Scottish Independence and got an A on it, so I’m very pleased with that – especially since it was so fun to write. The work is hard but I’m keeping on top of it (mostly) and doing reasonably well which I’m happy with. The past 2 weeks have been great as I’ve been interviewing people all over campus for my feature on campus life, which means I’ve met so many new people. Linguistics is still great fun and I’m loving it – I think if I had come here for my full degree it might have been an area I would have majored in, but I was instead destined for BA Politics (International). Sociology is still awful, this week my lecturer referred to women as “bitches”. Much misogyny, very objectification – on the bright side though it is super easy and I managed to get an A on my first essay by recycling previous modules. Plus I would like to thank my political theory lecturers for their very detailed powerpoints on Marx that mean I basically need to do no work for it. We’ve finally moved on from the holocaust in my violence, trauma and memory class, which is an anthropology module on genocide – super interesting but a very depressing topic for a hungover Friday morning.

The horrific hangovers have returned, but I am attributing them to my British nationality and blame that entirely for my alcohol consumption – “I can’t help it, it’s my culture.”

Last Tuesday (23/9) my lovely housemate from last year, Emily, was in Amsterdam so I popped over for the afternoon after class to see her. We spent a lot of time walking around Amsterdam, which is great because it now means there are plenty of places I can find my way to – mainly hugely touristy places though, but soon I’ll learn all the local spots. It’s definitely much nicer on a week day. It was one of the last days of nice weather, although I definitely wore too many layers. We went on a long hunt for warm stroopwafel which we eventually found in the museum square, but they were disappointingly below average – but still super tasty! We spent a lot of time sat by the I am amsterdam (Iamsterdam) sign outside the Rijksmuseum just people-watching and trying to avoid getting splashed by the dogs playing in the fountain. It made me think of Oliver, my little puppy dog. We went to find a restuarant for dinner, but food is so extortionately priced here. We did eventually find somewhere within our price budget though. Whilst we were waiting though a Dutch man behind us asked if we were waiting to be seated, and I replied yes, you know as you do – then he shouted at me for not calling him Sir. Just kept repeating “Sir…Sir…Sir” – the rudeness of it, I’m genuinely still in shock. I am not calling you sir, you are not my teacher. I am not your subordinate. Nope. The audacity of it.

Honden in die fontein

Top tip for travelling/biking in the Netherlands: Always remember where you’ve parked your bike, especially if you will be going back to it in the dark when your phone will have run out of battery for light. I didn’t. I left it at Utrecht Centraal station, which for reference easily has over 1000 bikes there and only vaguely remembered where, so spent 20 minutes searching for it in the dark. Not my finest moment.

An old picture – maar hier is mijn fiets

On the Wednesday, so the day after, I went to my friend’s birthday party in her unit which was super lovely – very “gezellig”. Everyone else’s living rooms are so pretty but ours is still quite boring, and messy as we have absolutely no storage space at all…

I have now got plans for fall break as well, Maurits and I will be joining the TripCo hitch-hike to Zaragoza in Spain which I am very excited for. I think we will also stay in Brussels for a few days after.

Dining hall food is still bad.

Sometimes I trick people in shops into thinking I speak Dutch, mainly by not saying anything, until they ask if I want a receipt or something gift wrapped and can’t understand them.

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