Stroopwafels, Smiles, and Sidequests by Mariana Escobar

Abroad in Utrecht

*This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

I had been dreaming of studying abroad since high school — an idea instilled in the American mind as the idealized experience one hopes will change their life forever. Given this pressure, choosing where to live for five months was one of the hardest decisions of my life. 

So, naturally, I asked ChatGPT. Yes, SuperStickySurfaces, you were right about the Americans’ obsession with this problem solver. 

I chose the Netherlands because I knew essentially nothing about the country. I wanted every experience to be an opportunity to learn something new. Fast-forward four months, with four weeks left of my program, and I cannot stress enough how I made the right decision.

My unit, M-14, easily takes the title of the most tight-knit and committed unit on campus. Does your unit have a color-coded calendar for all of its activities? Didn’t think so. I will cherish the memories of our unit lunches together: all talk (well, more like yelling). This was when OuiOuiBaguette would show off her best sandwich creations (they earned her a patent), Maria Francesa would sit me down to explain all the different Italian meats (a casual break from the hundreds of semester sidequests I forced upon her), the unitmate who is my height (which took my unit about two months to realize while high) would make me jealous with her flavorful dishes, and my fellow exchange unitmate (from a university that is not the #1 public university in America; #GoBears), joined me in finding out about amazing Skyr yogurt.

As for my classes, they were something totally new. Can I speak Dutch now? Depends on the person you ask. But can I make a mean stamppot? Not even a question.

Our movie nights were the stand-outs. Somehow, I managed to convince them all to bear through the newest season of bronking (iykyk) with me back in September. It made for perfect, immediate bonding and paved the way for numerous others afterwards (sorry to those outside our windows who we traumatized with our Saltburn night). I didn’t know the level of laughter we shared was physically possible. Then, in the mornings, the laughter would continue during my breakfasts with my fellow Madridista (Yes, you read that right. This is my work of fiction, after all, don’t forget that), with half-asleep, half-nonsense conversations — the best way to start the day.

Other times in the unit, though, that laughter was directed right at me. The main culprit? The most patriotic person I’ve ever met, who somehow single-handedly represents his entire country at UCU (I didn’t know it was possible to have so much pride for the tiny capital of Prague???). My pickle-obsessed roommate did indeed take stabs at my American ignorance here and there, but our coordinated sleeps and wake-ups every night and day made up for it. Normal top two roommate duo energy, you know?

As for my classes, they were something totally new. Can I speak Dutch now? Depends on the person you ask. But can I make a mean stamppot? Not even a question. 

That brings me to the whole “cultural immersion” aspect of study abroad, which I was so ecstatic about (and that my unitmates had to deal with — nay, got to enjoy). Bitterballen, stroopwafels, tompouce, McDonald’s McKroket, kibbeling, hagelslag, and more were all test-tasted in HD quality for our unit group chat. Besides food, I now know that bikers have the right of way (shoutout to all the grandparents who either bumped into me walking or sped past me biking), the weather app is fake, red wine is not the move for silent dinners, Albert Heijn is a gift from above, and I guess curtains (and straight men at UCU) don’t exist? 

These learned nuggets of knowledge were acquired with help, of course. My straight unitmate, who pissed in the corner of the bathroom and would like to have a foursome in the shower with three copies of himself, would explain Dutch holidays, such as the concept of Sinterklaas, to me whenever I asked. On the other hand, my favorite Dutch person set strict dates for me to follow the Dutch holiday schedule. Check in with me when she finally lets me try oliebollen during the last week of November; that’s when my life truly begins.

If you can't already tell, this experience not only lived up to, but fully surpassed my expectations. I should have known though, The signs from the universe were there.

As for travelling, I was told by some Dutch peers that I saw more of the Netherlands in these months than they had in their lifetime. Gouda, Haarlem, The Hague, Delft, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, and Maastricht filled my phone with full storage. That’s not even considering weekend trips to Spain, England, and France. I can’t forget about Fall break either — let’s just say The Marias had a blast in Central Europe. 

If you can’t already tell, this experience not only lived up to but fully surpassed my expectations. I should’ve known, though. The signs from the universe were there: I met some of my best friends here when we sat next to each other on the plane ride from California to Amsterdam back in August. Now I have new places to invite myself to — in California and around the world. Do I have plans to go to Namibia anytime soon? No, but I could if I wanted to, and that’s the important part. 

I don’t even want to finish writing this article because it feels like I’m wrapping up my story here, and my mom lore isn’t over just yet. Still a month to finals — still a month of stroopwafels, smiles, and sidequests.