It's been awhile. Let's just skip the excuses, though I will admit I've been putting this post off. It seems procrastination is a habit that has stuck with me even after college. I just knew how much energy and effort would have to go in to writing this post the right way. I'm still not satisfied with it but here it is.
The last time I blogged here it had been a year since I first arrived in Holland. Now, to this very day it has been a year since I left Holland for the US. Last year, these past two weeks were probably the most difficult of my entire stay there because I was torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay for reasons that almost directly opposed each other.
My Christmas last year was very John Lennon.
If you have not yet read the previous post please do so before continuing to read this post. To make sure, I'm putting the rest of this behind a jump...
The entire context of this post is based on the points I made in the previous post so now you've read it or reread it, let's get to the real point:
I was in the Netherlands illegally for 3 months.
It is a complicated story, as most stories are, but I'll keep it simple. Before I start, I have a few disclaimers I'd like to get across:
(1) It must be made clear that my overall feeling and the vast majority of my memories about my time in the Netherlands are positive. Amazing. One-of-a-kind-I-can't-believe-that-is-part-of-my-life type of feeling, you know? Being an au pair in the Netherlands was just a chapter in the story of my life. The fact that I did not have the proper visa and the effect that had is just a few pages. And yet the chapter that follows wouldn't have such great twists and so much character development if it weren't for those pages.
(2) As I share this I am in no way pointing a finger or laying blame on anyone. It does not matter who I think or who you think is at fault. That is not the point. I don't want to have to try and defend myself or even explain anything regarding responsibility. And I've struggled, really struggled, this past year letting go of the severe guilt I've been carrying around because I blamed myself 150%. I try to reason with myself either way but I am always haunted with the fact that I am capable of making the right decision no matter what circumstances seem to hinder me or hurt me.
(3) If you are an au pair or know anyone that is and had a similar experience, please contact me.
Let's begin.
Back in April and May of 2010, when I first started getting in contact with potential host families across Europe, I was a bit overwhelmed with the various laws regarding au pair visa requirements. It varies by country and depends on the au pair's country of origin as well. Some countries have very vague information online while others like Sweden and the Netherlands have fantastic online resources. As I remember, the type of permit* I needed to stay there as an au pair was applied for after I arrived in the Netherlands and the host parents were required to do the paperwork, pay the fee, and turn it in to the proper office.
The Netherlands was very appealing and so one phone conversation with Robin and Anna led to another. They wanted me to commit almost right away. I didn't even ask myself or them if it was because they were desperate for a replacement au pair or if it was because they really liked me. I was excited and I let that get to my head. I didn't know what questions to ask them. I didn't know a whole lot of anything, really. But I figured taking a little risk, a little leap of faith, was all I needed to start my new life post-college. In a small way, I wanted to do something reckless. Be careful what you wish for and your definition of reckless. Thinking back on it now I can't believe how much trust I placed in the host family before I had even met them. (And how much trust they placed in me by letting a complete stranger into their home to care for their children.) How did I know someone would be waiting there to pick me up from the airport? How did I know that there really was a room for me in a house somewhere in some Dutch village even Google maps had a hard time locating? And why in the world were my parents okay with it? Who knows what lines I convincingly fed them, but they certainly deserve every acolyte for supporting me but letting me make my own decisions and missteps so I could learn from them. I certainly learned a lot more than probably any of us had imagined.
Misstep number one was thinking that it was a good thing this host family did not require a contract between them and the au pair. This allowed for flexibility and made it feel less like a business relationship. I wanted to be part of a family, not an outsider. In my mind at the time (and after the host parents' explanation of why they don't require a contract) it was a good idea because then it left the relationship between the au pair and the host parents to be dependent on "real" communication. Things could be discussed and compromised instead of put in black and white and held with signatures. I mean, we didn't even decide before I got over there how long I would be staying. Not having a contract leaves a lot of room for unintentional misunderstandings and the potential for one party to take advantage of another one because there are no predetermined "rules." In the case of both au pairs and host families, a backbone of black and white is absolutely necessary. In my case, that was probably the leading factor in the breakdown of communication between me and the host parents.
Somewhere in these initial phone conversations and the first few days I was there the most detrimental misunderstanding occurred. And that was the misunderstanding that I expected we would all apply for my residence permit once I was over there (which as far as I could see in my research was how it worked in the Netherlands) and my host parents expected we wouldn't be getting me a residence permit because it was expensive and according to them "not even necessary." According to them, we had agreed about that in the phone conversations. I took diligent notes and no one where in my notes did I have that. But, of course, this did not become known until after I was already there. After I had already spent over $1000 of my parent's money for a plane ticket, $30 of my poor-college-kid fund for an international driver's permit, and other auxiliary expenses. I let myself accept the belief that there was no turning back but it never sat right with me.
I knew it was not right to not have any documents sanctioning my stay and when I communicated it to my parents they knew it was not right but none of us knew what to do. My second major misstep was not communicating my discomfort at not having a residence permit to my host parents and that lack of communication effected the relationship I had with them the rest of the time I was there. I let myself become intimidated about expressing my concerns or discomfort because we had no contract and I had no residence permit and therefore, I felt, no safety net. In the Netherlands, au pairs are limited to working 30 hours a week and I was working an average of 36 hours when the children were in school (40 hours in the summer) and it was exhausting. I did not discuss this with my host parents and I should have been more communicative.
I did meet other au pairs that did not have visas which only provided me with brief comfort at the thought of my existence in the Netherlands. That summer picnic in Vondelpark, I told one of the veteran au pairs everything and in so many words she told me to find a new host family ASAP. She pointed out all the red flags and even said she'd help me find a new family but I froze in fear. All these wonderful people emailed me and instant messaged me and Skyped with me and gave me support and good advice. I mean, these people told me the nicest and sweetest things anyone had ever told me. And they meant every word. That was another misstep - I did not take any of those opportunities and blessings the Universe so nicely provided to me. I continued to wrongly place my trust in people and I continued to live with my wrong choices.
I was full aware that three months was the limit an American could stay in Europe without a visa. Three months as a tourist, so for those first three months I pretended to be a tourist. I was fully aware that in September when I visited Sweden** that was the absolute last time I could leave the Netherlands and safely make it through the passport check at the airport. And sure enough as I returned to Amsterdam from Sweden and the customs agent looked at my passport he questioned me after seeing the duration of my stay already. I was so close to confessing him, to breaking down in tears in front of him, begging him to help me because I didn't know what to do. But I didn't. Misstep number whatever the count was at this point...
For the next three months, I become more and more miserable. I wanted to visit Florence. I wanted to visit Paris. I wanted to go back to Sweden, even if just for a weekend. Then I just wanted to go home, wherever that was. And when I finally could go home (determining my end date was also problematic because of the lack of contract) I knew the entire time I packed and repacked and threw things out and made the children sandwiches and taught them Christmas songs that I would have to pay for my mistake. I would have to pay for not having a proper permit to stay in the Netherlands. I was sad to go and glad to be able to see my family and heartbroken at the thought of leaving the children. Moreover, I wished that I would have done things differently. Over everything, every feeling and every moment, loomed the black cloud that was the truth. I was an illegal. Instead of tiptoeing through the tulips like I had done all summer I felt like I was tiptoeing on eggshells with my host parents and with myself.
When the day arrived for me to leave, Robin said goodbye before he left for work that morning. I felt awful that Anna had to take off work to take me to the airport and then watch the children before Christmas. I put my suitcases in the Volvo station wagon. I helped put the children in their boots and coats. As we drove to the airport I watched the countryside change into the cityscape. At that point I had no energy left to feel anything. But there was definitely a sense of finality. To be honest, that was wonderful and I embraced it. Since I had no energy left to feel, I didn't cry as I bent into the back seat to hug and kiss the children. It was awkward saying goodbye to Anna. I didn't hug her but I think I awkwardly patted her shoulder, thanking her and wishing her a merry Christmas, promising to email all the pictures of the children I took. I did not look back as I pushed my luggage cart across the lanes of traffic and into the airport. I never emailed those pictures either. I've kept them for myself.
My Christmas this year has been very George Harrison.
While I waited in line to check-in I listened to the Dalai Lama's audiobook. Because if there ever was such a thing as perfection and perfect timing, it was that moment and listening to him. Even though there was plenty of time for me to get to my gate, I went ahead and went through the passport check, knowing that I'd need that extra time. I handed the clerk my passport and boarding pass, knowing what was going to happen but totally unprepared to handle it. He looked at me. He looked at my passport. He turned every page of my passport, examining each one with obvious concern. I swallowed. I held my breath. I closed my eyes and exhaled.
A police officer appeared. I don't remember if he had been paged by phone or if the clerk had stepped out of his booth himself to summon the officer but there he was and there I went with him into the collection of offices to the left. I don't even remember any words being exchanged between me and anyone else. As if we were all going through the motions of a well-rehearsed scene of a play. He put me in a waiting room and there I waited, with my carry-on, wearing my black trench coat and new favorite scarf. There were a few other people waiting but none of them had suitcases. They were empty handed. One woman had a plastic grocery bag full of food.
The officer took me into a small, bare office. There was a desk with a computer and behind the computer there was a small crumbled paper bag from Albert Heijn. Even then I knew I'd never forget that piece of trash sitting there and the crumbs around it. The officer had a sheet of paper and he questioned me. I told him the truth. He asked for my host parents names and address. He wrote that down and a paragraph in Dutch that read who knows what. He took my passport and went to make copies of it and in those few moments I was completely alone. I didn't know if I was being brave or if I just wasn't being present at all. I was just there and everything was just happening around me. At some point I do know I apologized to the officer for what I had done. What I had allowed to be done to me. He explained that I could possibly be banned from ever returning to Europe for the next five years or even for the rest of my life. Maybe he was testing me to see if I understood the meaning of the situation. The severity. I understood, I told him. I thanked him for his time and then he said I could go. He told me to go home. He didn't even escort me out of the office. As soon as I turned the corner, in the middle of a large corridor of shops and other travelers I started sobbing uncontrollably as soon as I heard my mothers voice on my cell phone. I was crying in public like a maniac. I managed to calm down enough to go towards my gate. Then my father called and told me not to worry, that everything was going to be fine. I believed him and it was the first time in 6 months that I had put my trust in the right person, even if it was too late.
Until it was time to board I shopped for last minute trinkets. My six months in Holland had come down to picking out expensive but meaningless keepsakes. A box of Dutch chocolates with Delf blue wrappers I brought in the airport sits on my desk at work now. The chocolate lifts my mood on tough days.
I am not telling you this story for pity. Really, I'd rather skip over the parts about the crying and the questioning but it happened and I said I'd be more honest. In between then and now I've been told horror stories about people being fined absurd amounts of money on the spot for similar law-breaking. The other au pair I knew briefly who also did not have a visa but who had been there much longer than me was caught crossing the border into Germany on a tour bus. She spent one night in jail and was deported a week later. If there was ever such a thing as luck, I probably had it. But I believe that it was my choices in the end that truly mattered.
I haven't heard from the Netherlands about my status. There probably won't ever be true closure until I know for sure if I'm banned or what I need to do to pay for my mistake. I haven't been in any contact with my once host parents. For awhile I was plagued with questions of whether or not the Dutch Immigration office*** contacted them. Sent them a letter? Were they fined? Did they get questioned? Were they furious at me for turning them in? I certainly had a choice when it came to that - I could have lied to the officer but I told him the truth even if it was too late.
There is a happy ending. I am so grateful for the entire experience. I learned so much more than I ever thought I would. As trite as it sounds, I truly am I different person and I've come to believe in something that was always in my heart but I never had the strength, wisdom, or faith to actually recognize.
"It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's not future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one." -George Harrison
* There is a Residence Wizard on the Dutch Immigration and Naturalization Service website that takes one step-by-step with questions to set up one's qualifications. I don't remember for sure, but for an American to be an au pair in the Netherlands they need a residence permit.
**My trip to Sweden remains one of the most significant times of my entire life and it would not have been possible had I not been an au pair and had my relatives not known the true meaning of family.
**I just recently discovered that in January of this year (just a week after I left the Netherlands) the Dutch Immigration Office postponed an Immigration Act which would have forced au pairs to go through an agency.
No comments:
Post a Comment