Expats Don't Learn Dutch

Committing To A Love That Won’t Flirt Back

Last Friday I met an Argentinean guy at a party. My girlfriend was there too, and at some point they started speaking in Dutch. And I stood there, holding my drink, silent. They weren’t flirting but I still felt jealous. They were just speaking Dutch.

The guy wasn’t showing off. He was just chill. He switched back to Spanish to talk to me, not trying to make me feel small. Which, of course, made me feel even smaller. He was just… proud. Proud to speak a language most expats avoid.

The Dutch respect you if you speak their language. Especially because you don’t need to.

Everyone speaks English. So when you speak Dutch, they’re genuinely impressed. They’re used to people bashing their language, their food, their weather. Especially the weather. So it’s no surprise they come across as cold to foreigners.

“He had to learn it to get the Dutch passport,” my girlfriend said. True. But I know people who passed the test, and still can’t speak Dutch. Or worse, they don’t see the point in using it. They switch back to English as soon as they can. Because it’s always easier. You don’t risk sounding like a toddler.

He and I, we both arrived in The Netherlands in 2017.

So why can’t I speak Dutch? It’s not that I didn’t try.

First, I joined a free course. I showed up every week, made enough progress to order coffee and smile at my neighbors. But my life was always in English. My job. My friends. My ex. All expats.

Dutch never felt urgent.

Two years later, the itch came back. I paid for private lessons. If it costs you something, you take it more seriously. It worked, until it didn’t.

My tutor, Elmer, knew a lot.

His classes were efficient but cold. I did my homework like I do my taxes. I started dreading them. I was so bored. It’s hard to invest if you’re not having fun.

Learning a language is hard. Without an emotional reason, it’s easy to give up.

I didn’t have enough shame to act. Just enough to feel it. If I didn’t speak Dutch, nothing really happened. My life would continue as it was. It wasn’t keeping me out of anything interesting for me at that time.

Eventually, I gave up on Dutch and pivoted to learning Italian. There was no practical reason, just pure joy.

Italian brought me back to life. I got addicted. Devoured YouTube videos one after the other. Sang L'Italiano under the shower with passion. Booked flights to Milan just to order cappuccinos and hear the words coming out of my mouth.

But Dutch isn’t Italian or French. It doesn’t seduce you. It doesn’t flirt with you. It stares at you with its arms crossed. It’s sober, it’s practical. A reflection of their speakers.

You don’t learn Dutch for its sexiness. You learn it because you want to stay. Because you want to belong. Dutch isn’t a one-night stand. It’s not gelato in Positano. It’s a long-term relationship, with all the hard work and responsibilities that entails.

You commit to Dutch when life makes it unavoidable.

When you have kids here and want to understand their world. Talk with their classmates and teachers.

When you want to stop being the outsider at the dinner table with your in-laws.

And sometimes, though rarely, it comes from choosing to embrace this country as your own.

That’s the hardest part: stop seeing it as something temporary and start growing roots. There is a grieving period after leaving home. You mourn your language, your old self. This is what prevents, or delays, people from committing to a new culture, a new home.

When I bought my house here, I thought I was settling down. But you can always see it as an investment. Growing roots comes from the heart, not from your wallet.

For me, it’s my girlfriend.

I’m dating a Dutch now. Which means I’m part of a Dutch family. I want to understand her mom when she tells me something with a wink. I want to laugh at her dad’s dry jokes. I want to make this rainy, cold, perfect country mine.

It’ll never be “home home.” But I’m done floating endlessly in denial. I’ve visited many countries and there is something about the Netherlands that just works. Not the weather, no. That part is shit. But the rest? Life is easy here. You can trust the institutions. Focus on your job. Build something. Love someone.

I want this to be my base. And when winter shows up, we’ll leave, so we can come back. My girlfriend dreads dark cold winters as much as I do.

I need to speak enough Dutch.

If I don’t speak it, no Dutch will ever care enough to get to know me. To them, I’ll always be someone just passing through.

Why bother building a deeper relationship with me if you don’t know whether I’ll be here tomorrow?

I’m not here temporarily because of the job, the money, or the experience of living abroad. I’m here because there is something fundamental in the way they see life that resonates with my values. The mourning is over. My heart is ready to embrace this country as much as an immigrant ever can.

I heard once that some cultures are peaches and others are coconuts. Peaches are soft on the outside, hard at the core. Like Americans. Friendly, smiling, open. Until you hit the pit.

The Dutch are coconuts. A hard layer on the outside makes them look and sound like assholes. They tend to make direct comments with a deadpan face. Always to the point in a way that comes across as rude.

Crack them open and there’s sweetness inside. But... you have to earn it.

My girlfriend says Dutch is beautiful in its own way. A kind of beauty reserved for the ones willing to invest. Tourists, as always, get to see the worst.

I never tried hard enough to be honest. I coasted on English. I lived on the surface, never cracked the shell.

But seeing my girlfriend speak Dutch with that guy at the party, simply flipped a switch.

Without language, I can’t joke. I don’t play. I just... survive.

I’m done waiting to just stumble into a new place that magically fits like home. Home, like love, isn’t something you find. It’s something you build.

I need to see every opportunity as a chance to practice. To learn a new word, a new expression. Making it fun.

Because after nearly a decade here, not speaking the language ain’t funny anymore.