MISTI Blogs

As soon as my plane landed in the Netherlands, it really was a whole new world, not to sound like Ariel or anything. I had never been outside of the Americas, and certainly never traveled alone to a country with a culture and lifestyle so different from my own. Coming from a low-income household, I could hardly imagine coming to MIT, much less being given the opportunity to travel overseas. After months of debating with myself whether or not I was ready to embark on this new journey, I realized there would never be a perfect time and I might as well take the leap now, while I have the opportunity. 

So, here I am following three MISTI trainings, two (or more) hours of packing, and one flight to Amsterdam. One of the first things I noticed after coming here was the insane biking culture, and I even got a bike within the first couple of days. I thought to myself it should be easy enough, I mean everybody says “just like riding a bike” to describe something that comes naturally. However, my time in the Netherlands so far has shown me that this phrase can be much more nuanced. 

For instance, what if the lowest setting on your rental bike is taller than what you’ve experienced at home, and now you have to learn how to balance on your tippy toes when stopping. But honestly, getting used to this feeling of being unbalanced is what I experienced my first week. I felt in some way uncomfortable in many situations, always feeling like I was doing something wrong or unexpected, and although I tried to learn some of the language before coming here, I couldn’t understand a lick of any conversation, which is horrible since I love to eavesdrop. Grocery stores would look the same on the outside, but upon my first visit I spent 5 minutes looking for eggs in the refrigerated section, only to find out it was in the aisle next to the granola. I had Google Translate pulled up everywhere I went so that I could try to piece together street signs as well as the menu at an ice cream shop. 

But you know, after some time passed, I became more comfortable with my surroundings. I was able to walk around my town without Google Maps, navigate the public transport system more confidently, and walk around the grocery store like a local. I even biked all the way from my town to the beach (about an hour commute) and it was totally worth it. That’s the point where I began leaning comfortably to the side of my bike at every stop instead of being unbalanced on my tippy toes. I was finally settling in.

I became familiar with all the cracks in the road and how to properly maneuver around them. There were also plenty of ups and downs I had to get used to in my daily life, and I learned how to work myself around those as well. One of the biggest shifts was learning how to fuel myself, and not just physically, but emotionally too. I often missed home, especially my parents’ home cooked meals. So I started cooking for myself, turning it into a small ritual of comfort and care. In many ways, it felt like my personal cheat code: it was cheaper than eating out every day, it connected me to home, and it tapped into something I genuinely enjoy. With my very limited stovetop and counterspace I was still able to make everything I wanted. Although an oven would’ve been nice, especially when I started craving pão de queijo.

Even though I couldn’t make my true comfort food, there would be other moments that brought me comfort. Sometimes I would be out in public in a market near the town center and out of the corner of my ear I would hear the familiar sound of Portuguese. I would immediately perk up and try to identify where it was coming from. I was visiting my friend in Belgium one day, eating the most delicious Belgian waffle with strawberries and nutella, when I heard a mother and her three kids as she was telling them how to pose for a picture in Portuguese. She was moving them around and telling them to smile and it all reminded me of my mother and how she would do the same with me and my siblings when we were younger. Soon afterwards, I saw them again in a castle nearby and simply the sound of spoken Portuguese would bring a smile to my face and make me feel closer to home. Similarly, the markets in Delft would often have hispanic food trucks and local artisans making small stuffed llamas, which reminded me of my time in Ecuador last summer. These small moments helped keep me grounded to my roots, even in a foreign country. 

Anyways, now I’d gotten the hang of the bike and the roads, but the weather was still a wildcard I could never quite predict. I remember my first time biking next to a tall building on a really windy day, and the wind tunnel it created almost brought my bike to a complete stop. I managed to power through, but the rest of the ride home was basically a quad workout I didn’t sign up for. The early morning drizzles and random thunderstorms were really just the cherry on top. 

But honestly, I started to find a strange comfort in the unpredictability. I never knew exactly what each day would bring, but learning to adapt became part of my rhythm. I found myself appreciating the good weather more. On sunny days, I’d spend hours biking around through nearby parks or sitting outside to paint while listening to music or an audiobook. These moments also became a way to cope with feeling so far from my friends. 

Additionally, I started doing food reviews on my Instagram stories, which helped me stay in regular contact with both old and new friends. It was also just a really fun activity and it pushed me to try new foods here, like pickled herring and Dutch fries. I even did a review on the waffle I mentioned above! The reviews would mostly be on the weekends when I was travelling, since I ate the same lunch and dinner throughout the weekdays. I even thought about creating a separate account for my food reviews, but then I got lazy. Either way, it was, and still is a great way to connect with my friends and family back home, helping me ride out those unpredictable waves of loneliness.

Learning the ins and outs of the biking culture here has helped me adjust to Dutch life and every passing day it gets a little easier. I mean it’s like they say, it’s just like riding a bike–right?