Full Circle Relocation Story

My ten-second version of my relocation story is simple: I fell head-over-heels in love with a Dutch man and moved to the Netherlands to be with him. Of course it’s not that simple. It never is.

To understand my impulse to follow my love to Europe, you first have to know a bit about my past. I grew up in Solvang, California, a Danish-themed tourist town nestled in rural Santa Ynez Valley. I marched in the local Danish Day parade in clogs. I worked in Danish bakeries, and my family had a store in a Danish windmill. Solvang is home to farms, horse ranches, wineries, the Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians, and the Spanish Mission Santa Ínes built in 1804 to ‘acculturate the Chumash of the Santa Ynez Valley into the Spanish way of life’.

My rural upbringing presented two inner conflicts: 1) being white and privileged while seeing some community members treated with less respect because of their skin colour; 2) the joy of belonging to a small-town community while longing for something bigger beyond the confines of small-town life.

I wanted an expanded viewpoint, and I wanted adventure. I lived in Hawaii, Idaho, Massachusetts, and Oregon, and played in bands in all of those places. I went to college. I dated, got married, got divorced, and swore never to marry again. Even though my international travel was limited up to this point (Cuba, Canada, Italy, Mexico), I considered myself to be worldly, culturally aware, and wise.

The Dutch Man

Enter my future (Dutch) husband, Arie Jan. We met at a wedding in Santa Barbara: he, the best man of the Dutch groom; me, the maid of honour to the American bride. Arie Jan was handsome, civilized, European, and more grown up than any of the man-boys I’d previously dated. And he came from a country with windmills and clogs! After months of long-distance dating, I quit my job and moved to the Netherlands to be with him.

During the following nine months in Amsterdam, I learned just how ‘unworldly’ I was. I thought English, paired with my professional work experience, would easily open doors for me. Yet without a work permit, it was a no-go. I also had no ear for Dutch, and learning the local language was crucial for cultural integration. I got lost, sometimes for hours, arriving back at Arie Jan’s Amsterdam flat wet, tired, and missing my homeland.

When I sought other work, like waitressing, no one would hire me. Not because of the lack of a work permit, but for a more demeaning reason a young waitress explained to me: “You’re too old.”

Back and Forth

We ended up moving to the US together in 2004. We got jobs, got married, and had a child. All was well until 2008, when the financial crisis hit. By 2010, the architectural firm I worked for had gone from 28 employees to 5. I was in the last round of casualties. My husband was laid off the same year. We decided to head back to the Netherlands. This time, I wasn’t coming for love alone, but for refuge.

I learned the language and took the first job offered to me, which paid less than half of what I earned in the US. I woke up many mornings thinking I was in California, only to realize I was somewhere else entirely, and I became instantly homesick.

Blessings

However, that job as a manager of a church that doubled as a meeting room and events centre would be key to my growth and development:

• It taught me humility (No! The US isn’t the center of the universe and money isn’t everything).
• It helped me learn Dutch, exposed me to Dutch culture, and introduced me to expat groups (like Connecting Women and ACCESS).
• It gave me time to write and become the novelist I’d always dreamed of becoming (my third novel, Yule Change, is coming out in October 2026!).
• I had an instant community of people I could wave to on the street, encounter in the bakery or grocery store, or talk to after services during the coffee hour (which seemed at times more important to the churchgoers than the church service).

Big City to Small Dutch Town

In 2018, my husband became a minister. By September, we relocated to Schagen, in North Holland. Instead of looking for a new job, I focused on writing, education, and retraining as a book editor. I thought I’d miss the big city, but it turns out I have a preference for small towns, especially those that are open to diversity—which Schagen is.

Now, when I speak Dutch, I do so fluently and with confidence. Now, when I wake up, I feel at home. When I think of my home away from home, I have not one, but two: Schagen, the Netherlands, and Solvang, California. I still miss my US family and friends, but I am blessed with dual nationality and accept where I live as part of the grand adventure, even if I ended up in a place quite similar to where I began, down to the parades, wooden clogs, and windmills.

Kristin Anderson, American

accompanying partner

ACCESS Stories is a monthly newsletter with the heartfelt intent to help you make the most of your new lives in the Lowlands. Visit our Features page to explore all published stories.

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