Wednesday, December 12, 2007

IN GOLUS FROM MORDOR

A few months ago I mentioned on a mailing list to which I belong that I doubted I would ever visit the Netherlands again - the level of hatred for Americans, the loathing for everything associated with America, and the utter disgust with American politics, that started in the sixties and seemed to get worse with each decade (and now seems to double every year) simply precludes any idea of visiting the old bog. I have no need to hear for the umpteenth time from some callow teenager about how I'm damned in his narrow-minded little world view, nor do I desire a disquisition on the decadence and perversity of my people.


Yes, I speak fluent Dutch, and can cruise into the place without advertising my background to one and all.

The question is, why would I want to?


The same anonymity that allows me to pass for Dutch unless I betray myself is so much easier if I never even go back. There, Dutch people will assume I'm Dutch - until I say something rabidly non-Dutch. Here, if there are any Dutch people about, they will not assume that anyone around them speaks Dutch - until I say something in Dutch.

I actually prefer the anonymity of being a Dutch-speaker in the United States, to being an American trying to be as unnoticeable as possible in Europe.

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