Dedemsvaart

My Second Year in the Netherlands

My Second Year in the Netherlands -- Em Dashed

Yes friends, it’s time again for the official, rarely-imitated-so-accordingly-rarely-duplicated annual check-up. Actually, it was time a few weeks ago, but I mean: what is time, really? Think about that for a minute.

Anyway, I moved to the Netherlands back in September of 2014, which means we’ve just celebrated our second anniversary. (Gefeliciteerd, Nederland!) Let’s take a look at how things went this past year.

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My First Year in the Netherlands

Autumn in Dedemsvaart

Despite my best efforts (which, admittedly, were quite pathetic, and generally restricted to “wishing and hoping summer would last forever”), autumn has arrived here in the Netherlands. I am of two minds about it.

On one hand, I have never been a fall person. You know fall people; they’re the ones who start posting about pumpkin spice lattes on August 15th and hold big leaves up for instagram photos. Other than my geeky affinity for school, fall has always represented one thing to me: the imminent onset of winter. Which, in Minnesota, means several months of ice and snow, and around three people per day telling you, “What, this? Nah, it’s gonna get way worse.”

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Renting Our First Apartment in the Netherlands

Renting an Apartment in the Netherlands -- Em Dashed

Considering how adamant I apparently am that I don’t live in Amsterdam, and how unlikely it is that’s going to change anytime soon (spoiler alert!), the place where I do live has received very little recognition on my blog lately. And considering that I may be the only person, currently or ever, producing content on the Internet about that place in English, it’s especially weird that I’ve forsaken it so frequently to write about places for which that is certainly not the case. Well, no more!

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An Introduction to Dedemsvaart

While we’re making confessions, there’s something else you should know about me. I’m…kind of a city person.

Dedemsvaart

This doesn’t mean I refuse to set foot in any place without at least six Starbucks and 500,000 people complaining about public transit. One of the best summers of my life was spent in Kaikoura, a teensy-weensy coastal town in New Zealand. My parents started taking me and my sister camping all over the United States before we could walk. Hell, I spent twelve weeks in the Australian outback, chasing cows in a helicopter and showering in water our host wouldn’t use to clean his car. I am no stranger to dirt, isolation, or small-town life.

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