Why it is good to cherish your roots

“Waaaaarvandaan?” And then I very patiently say: the islands in the bottom left of the Netherlands and then that top island. “Oooh, Zeeland!” I again explain very patiently that this still belongs to South Holland and that I come from there. You could almost call me a geography teacher at such times, even though this is totally not my forte. I am born on a real island, with a bridge, water all around, where you couldn't get to without a boat in the past, with a flat dialect and the whole shebang. We even have our own national anthem, which you understand nothing of if you don't speak the language.

Even though I never want to live on that particular island again, I still find it special that I come from the south of our country. I know my shortcuts in Zeeland on summer days when the roads are filled with tourists, and I know where you can drink the best wine by the water, and on the island of Flakkee lie my roots. My father was born there, just like my grandma and grandpa and great-grand- everything. I terrorized my teachers there with flair in high school, knew exactly which corner near the local café was the best place to kiss (and with whom), and what time the bus went to the city (because a bit of metro and hustle and bustle is good for an island dweller too). But not only that, of course, it has given me a no-nonsense mentality, I always think. Just like a Freek, who you can take out of the Jordaan but not the Jordaan out of him. It has damn well expressed itself for a reason.

I love the water on the other side of the dike. I love the ten kilometers I cycled to school, even though you got rained on until your underwear was wet. I love that you know who your neighbor is (and okay, that she sometimes also has lunch with the other neighbor). And that now, fifteen years later, that mouthwatering delicious warm sandwich healthy is still on the menu of the lunchroom, where I spent quite a few skipped hours. Wherever I live, wherever I work, or to whatever country I travel, I love where I come from. From that island, where I could only walk home from school and waved to grandma who then pushed the curtain aside from her chair to wave back.