Citizen Val
Last Thursday was my big day. I became a Dutch citizen in Terneuzen, Zeeuws Vlaanderen, after having lived here since the beginning of this century and it felt just great! I'll admit Brexit prompted me into action, but I've been thinking about doing it for years. I'm at home here in the Netherlands, my daughters are here, Koos is here and I have my barge and a small (if crumbly) cottage here too. Why would I leave?
I took my Dutch exams back in 2010 with the possibility of becoming a citizen in mind, but to be honest the cost of applying put me off for a while. It's not a cheap business and I guess they want you to really feel committed. Still, there are undoubtedly expenses for the authorities too as they do all sorts of checks to make sure you're the kind of person they want. All the same, until Brexit came along, it wasn't such an issue that I felt impelled to spend the money and take the step.
Having finally taken the plunge last year in February, it was an exercise in patience and chewed nails to wait for the decision. Would they kick me out? What would I do if I received a negative response? My daughter applied months after me and got her citizenship last year in November. Why was it taking so long for me? What had I done wrong? "Aah," my friends nodded, smiling. "You're in Zeeland. Everything takes longer there." And with that I had to be content. Making jokes about slower country folk didn't do much to ease my anxiety (or make my nails grow) but it was a nicer thought than any of the alternatives.
When the decision finally came, I was more relieved than delighted; so were my nails. However, I was pleased to see the King himself had accepted my application. That made me stand up straight again. "Zijne majesteit, Koning Willem Alexander" had given me the stamp of approval. Phew! "I didn't get a letter like that," said my daughter. "Aah, but you're not old and potentially expensive like me," I replied, laughing.
Well, I have no idea why the king had to give the nod to mine and not hers but it made for some entertaining speculation and it helped me feel a bit special for a while.
Anyway, that was at the beginning of February this year, just inside the 12 months they had, by law, to make the decision. Then came the wait for the naturalisation ceremony. As this was going to be local, I accepted another long wait. Thinking I might be one of a very few, we joked about having to wait until they'd collected enough of us in Zeeland to make the ceremony worthwhile. The invitation finally arrived two weeks ago, so imagine our surprise when on the day itself, we turned up to find I was one of thirty three new Nederlanders in Zeeuws Vlaanderen and one of quite a crowd.
The downside was we didn't have tea, chats and cake, which we did at the small intimate affair that my daughter's ceremony involved. The upside was that I didn't have to give a speech about myself in Dutch, which she did (with great fluency and ease, I might add).
Despite the numbers at Terneuzen, which more than doubled with all the supporting relatives, it was a friendly and very cheerful occasion. The mayor, a very tall, very Dutch local man was smiles and charm incarnate and made us all feel genuinely welcome, but I need not say more now as Koos' great photos show the atmosphere even better than I can describe it.
"Ha," the mayor said, "Poore met een e. Welkom"
And the deed was done
And then we had to have a group photo...
But only the mayor is looking at the camera. Oh dear...
So we had to be directed by this lady here....
who told us to say cheese, although I'm not sure everyone understood!
But then we all got it. She did a great job and this was itMy next challenge will be applying for a Dutch passport, following which I will have to surrender my British passport, another major cost. I'm a bit peeved about that. I thought I could just go along to the consulate and hand it over, but no, I have to pay close to €450 for the privilege of giving it back. Since dual nationality is not permitted in the Netherlands if you aren't married into or stem from a Dutch family, it has to be done. Such is life and long may I live in my Flatlands – the home I have chosen to call my own.
Have a good week, allemaal! Till next time!
I took my Dutch exams back in 2010 with the possibility of becoming a citizen in mind, but to be honest the cost of applying put me off for a while. It's not a cheap business and I guess they want you to really feel committed. Still, there are undoubtedly expenses for the authorities too as they do all sorts of checks to make sure you're the kind of person they want. All the same, until Brexit came along, it wasn't such an issue that I felt impelled to spend the money and take the step.
Having finally taken the plunge last year in February, it was an exercise in patience and chewed nails to wait for the decision. Would they kick me out? What would I do if I received a negative response? My daughter applied months after me and got her citizenship last year in November. Why was it taking so long for me? What had I done wrong? "Aah," my friends nodded, smiling. "You're in Zeeland. Everything takes longer there." And with that I had to be content. Making jokes about slower country folk didn't do much to ease my anxiety (or make my nails grow) but it was a nicer thought than any of the alternatives.
When the decision finally came, I was more relieved than delighted; so were my nails. However, I was pleased to see the King himself had accepted my application. That made me stand up straight again. "Zijne majesteit, Koning Willem Alexander" had given me the stamp of approval. Phew! "I didn't get a letter like that," said my daughter. "Aah, but you're not old and potentially expensive like me," I replied, laughing.
Well, I have no idea why the king had to give the nod to mine and not hers but it made for some entertaining speculation and it helped me feel a bit special for a while.
Anyway, that was at the beginning of February this year, just inside the 12 months they had, by law, to make the decision. Then came the wait for the naturalisation ceremony. As this was going to be local, I accepted another long wait. Thinking I might be one of a very few, we joked about having to wait until they'd collected enough of us in Zeeland to make the ceremony worthwhile. The invitation finally arrived two weeks ago, so imagine our surprise when on the day itself, we turned up to find I was one of thirty three new Nederlanders in Zeeuws Vlaanderen and one of quite a crowd.
The downside was we didn't have tea, chats and cake, which we did at the small intimate affair that my daughter's ceremony involved. The upside was that I didn't have to give a speech about myself in Dutch, which she did (with great fluency and ease, I might add).
Despite the numbers at Terneuzen, which more than doubled with all the supporting relatives, it was a friendly and very cheerful occasion. The mayor, a very tall, very Dutch local man was smiles and charm incarnate and made us all feel genuinely welcome, but I need not say more now as Koos' great photos show the atmosphere even better than I can describe it.
"Ha," the mayor said, "Poore met een e. Welkom"
And the deed was done
And then we had to have a group photo...But only the mayor is looking at the camera. Oh dear...
So we had to be directed by this lady here....
who told us to say cheese, although I'm not sure everyone understood!
But then we all got it. She did a great job and this was itMy next challenge will be applying for a Dutch passport, following which I will have to surrender my British passport, another major cost. I'm a bit peeved about that. I thought I could just go along to the consulate and hand it over, but no, I have to pay close to €450 for the privilege of giving it back. Since dual nationality is not permitted in the Netherlands if you aren't married into or stem from a Dutch family, it has to be done. Such is life and long may I live in my Flatlands – the home I have chosen to call my own.Have a good week, allemaal! Till next time!
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