Part XI: The Decor of Domesticity

Along a winding road, amidst scraggly trees, the embassy houses stand quietly guarded by thick metal gates. There is no sign of nationalistic grandeur, each building looks equally as respectable as the next, all in a striking tone of modest, cream-colored bourgeoisie. Neighborly yet detached; like the Hamptons but in bad weather and with a critical lack of swimming pools. Looking into the windows, I could only imagine a high-class ladies’ brunch, not an official extension of a government. The homeliness of the whole setup kept me confused, it was the perfect place for jogs and strolls and barbecues and raising kids. A familial bliss for bureaucrats and diplomats.

This was the first time ‘dutch hospitality’ seemed like an apt way to describe something. I’ve heard the expression bounced around, yet in comparison to the iconography of ‘southern hospitality’ it always seemed to come up short. But not in this little village of nations, each country-house as welcoming as your great Aunt Martha who married a doctor, had three children and, after sending them all off to college, retired peacefully to some renovated ranch or other. It was a calm and structural hospitality, the kind that blossoms from social and business contracts, the accepted kind of obligations.

This small alternate dimension nestled somewhere in the Hague has all the drama of a method-acted Oscar Wilde play performed in a spacious living room. It is pragmatic and banal, nostalgic and stout. All the things that you wish your parents were but you desperately don’t want to become.

Part XII: Kings and Queens and Buenos Aires

Portraits of the Dutch royal family look like promotional posters for a daytime soap opera. Just one look at their beaming faces and the episodes start writing themselves.

Scene one: His Majesty Willem-Alexander helps Catharina-Amalia with her homework.

Scene two: Princess Ariane finds a puppy on the street and sneaks it into the palace.

Scene three: Queen Maxima starts working on her self-help cookbook ‘Maxima’s Guide to Family and Filet Mignon’ but encounters a bout of writer’s block.

Each episode would end with a wholesome moral message: the class will be passed through determination, the puppy will become part of the family, and inspiration will be found in an unexpected encounter with an old friend.

However, after three more clicks through Wikipedia, I was surprised to discover that there was a lot more to this Dutch made-for-tv drama. Willem-Alexander, who is ‘actively involved in water management’, first introduced himself to Maxima as simply ‘Alexander’ so that she wouldn’t know that he was a prince. If that’s not an opener for a 2000’s romantic comedy with a soundtrack exclusively featuring the Plain White T’s and Colbie Caillat, then I don’t know what is. But we go on. Queen Maxima, who is first described as ‘an economics major’, is Argentinian. The divide between European and Latin American political structures generated enough controversy to prevent her father from coming to the wedding, which is really just a roundabout way of saying that her family has reaped the benefits of a dictatorship the likes of which is almost unimaginable in the context of the Netherlands.

But there is something far more fascinating to me than a little political fuss. After clicking on Queen Maxima in hopes of finding out information that would elevate her to the dramatic equivalent of ‘Evita’, I found out that she is far more relatable than I would’ve ever guessed. Under the section title ‘Controversy over statement on Dutch identity’, her 2007 quote reads as follows:

... but 'the' Dutch identity? No, I have not found it. The Netherlands is: large windows without curtains so everyone can look in; but also adherence to privacy and coziness. The Netherlands is: one biscuit at tea; but also great hospitality and warmth. The Netherlands is: sobriety, control and pragmatism; But also the experience of intense emotions together. The Netherlands is far too diverse to summarize in one cliché. 'The' Dutchman does not exist. As a consolation I can tell you that 'the' Argentinian also does not exist.

As far as I’m concerned, there is nothing controversial about that statement. Yet from the perspective of a European Royal Family, that is a radical thing to say. It is eloquent and incisive and self-aware. It shows the capacity to love and critique simultaneously, and that has gotta be the most comforting and regal quality in a monarch that I have ever encountered.

Part XIII: Carpe Diemen

“So my friends told me to invite this girl from tinder to a ‘Pimps and Hoes’ themed party. And we get there and I don’t know what’s going on. One of the stripper’s but a banana in her [gestures towards crotch area and widens eyes] vagina, and she just… shot it out of there. I’m from Diemen, I don’t know what to do in a situation like that.  Look and I have a video, but not of the banana, but she catches her underwear in her mouth. Look, isn’t that cool?”