Homecoming and How!? - Part 1

Think Netherlands and what most people picture is Amsterdam with its canals, houses along them and of course, the tulips. It seems to be built just to satisfy the whims of the tourist and floating population. Interesting architecture, wonderful museums, great clubs and of course, a world-famous red-light area.

The truth is Amsterdam is a small part of this small country. It is so small that it is almost impossible to find a decent living space that doesn’t charge an arm and a leg. In fact, the city is chock-a-block with scammers letting a ‘beautiful room near tourist attractions’ for rent, that turn out to be little more than tincans. Like how Netherlands stretches beyond its capital city, this problem stretches throughout the country.

Real estate has been prime property right from times immemorial. During the Golden age, despite rolling in gold, the Dutch maritime traders couldn’t build big houses without being fined. Such is the space constraint. And thus, they decided to invest in quantity rather than quality. The doorways narrowed down to a little more than a pathway leading to a multitude of staircases and several narrow rooms on top of one other. The typical Dutch staircase is treacherous curved con’trap’tion with steps that are no more than a few inches wide, inclined at 90 degrees, leading right into the sky with hardly any hand or even foothold. I suppose that’s also a way for the Dutch to make up for the absence of hills and mountains in the country. Coincidentally, they are called ‘trappen’ in the local language.

How did these people manage to furnish their rooms when even a slightly large person has to turn sideways in order to fit through the narrow doorway? Again Dutch ingenuity to the rescue – fit hooks to the top of the houses and run a pulley through them. The furniture is hauled on ropes and passed in through the windows!! These houses of the rich and mighty are built along the canals and remind me of the rush hour inside public transport – people standing shoulder to shoulder. And just like how they sway with the motion of the vehicle, these buildings move along with the strong wind!

The Golden age has passed, but this style of architecture has stuck on, even in Den Haag where I live. This city is a bit more family-friendly, thanks to a little breathing space and a roaring business of international schools. However, The Hague is plagued by an increasing immigrant population and decreasing number of houses. Back when we were a young couple, one could possibly rent a double bedroom house for €800. As we started to get older (which happens immediately after having a kid), the rent went up to 1200 and in extreme cases €2500 for an all-inclusive ‘classic’ Dutch house. 

Immigrant Indians powered by rice and spice took the revolutionary step of buying houses and paying a lesser EMI than the rent. As the rest began to follow in their footsteps, it kick-started a chain of events that tightened the noose around an already tight real estate market. Oblivious to this fact, we decided just then to join the bandwagon.

And so, we began the process in the typical Indian way hoping to not buy the typical Dutch house. We chose an auspicious day and venerated the elephant God, Ganesha. Met the real estate agent and handed him a list of don’t-wants that was longer than the long-legged Dutch. We spent the next 18 months roaming the streets of Den Haag and internet. A year and a half is a long time. You could have birthed an elephant in this period. Was it a sign that Ganesha was taking us seriously?

Perhaps buying a house is also like having a child. You start with great plans, thoughts and aspirations. In the end, when the baby is in your arms, all these grand plans are tossed out the window and you are happy to simply call this being as your own. (And also because you are so tired that you couldn’t have taken any more effort!)

Just like I love my daughter after all the trouble I went through and am going through for/because her, my house has started to become my home with much love.