Coins and ducks

Today it finally happened, the thing that some of my readers have been talking about: I needed help figuring out Dutch coins. It was not a major event, it didn’t last very long either, but it made me feel like I was losing my mind.

I have been using plastic or major bills to pay for everything, and have been putting any change that I’ve received in my purse. Every time I would just carelessly dump all the change into my bag, Dutch friends would look at me like I was truly going crazy. After all, some European coins can be worth up to three dollars. But I guess it’s one of those truly convenient American habits that are just hard to break. Why mess around with overweight wallets when you don’t have to? Back home I will put spare change in my pockets, in a cup holder in my car, or just toss it into my purse. Once a month or so, I will collect up all the loose change from everywhere, and still find I’ll only have around four dollars in dimes, nickels, and quarters. So change is not something I worry about, although it is always a present surprise to discover that I have enough change lying around the console in my car for a soda after work. But today, as I noticed that the collection of coins in the bottom of my purse had grown to fairly large proportions, I realized that I probably needed to start spending the money, unless I wanted to end up with $30 worth of fat and heavy European coins after we had come home.

So when I had to buy some blank CDs today, I decided to be smart and spend all that change that had been weighing down my bag. I walked up to the counter, and confidently pulled out a handful of change. The final price was 7 euros and 95 cents, something that would have caused me no problems at all a few years ago. But today I seriously found myself having to turn over every single coin trying to figure out what they were. Who knew that the twenty and fifty cent piece looked so much alike? The only difference is the edge, apparently, but you could have fooled me. And why couldn’t they have made it easier to distinguish between the one and two euro coin? Sure, one is slightly bigger than the other, but, trust me, in the heat of rushing to pay, and feeling three other customers stare at you, you can’t tell left from right, let alone two coins that look pretty much exactly the same. I ended up having to ask the sales assistant to help me out. After looking me like I was one sandwich short of a picnic, the man pointed out the value of each coin and picked out the ones he needed. And that’s when it hit me: I truly look like a fool. As a slightly clumsy, and at times overly enthusiastic person, I’m no stranger to embarrassment, but this moment really took the cake.

Looking back I realize that the mistake I made was to speak Dutch to the person in the store. The moment I decided to use my change, I should have just spoken English. Then my whole little coin-moment would have been considered cute. Now I’m sure there’s just a shopkeeper somewhere telling his family that he had a really crazy lady in the story today who had probably just been released into society after years of seclusion, because although she looked alright, talked alright, she couldn’t tell one coin from another. That’s what you get when you live abroad and want to speak your native language. The thing is, I refuse to speak English when I can speak Dutch just fine. In fact, I go out of my way to use English words or phrases at all. When I can’t think of a word, I’ll either describe what I’m trying to say, or use a synonym, but I refuse to use English. There’s nothing wrong with people who do, but it’s just not for me. To be honest, I always can’t help but wonder if someone isn’t trying to act a part. On the flight to Amsterdam, for instance, I was sitting next to a Dutch teacher who had spent two weeks in the US, and she was constantly using English words, albeit incorrectly, with the excuse that she hadn’t spoken a word of Dutch in fourteen days. That’s just not me. But I guess this means that I am going to have to accept that there will be times when people think I am a little bit crazy. Or maybe I just need to spend more time keeping up with Dutch society :)

Now I hate to bring up that same metaphor again, so I won’t…do ducks even use change?