People often ask me if I’ve experienced cultural shock since moving here. When it comes to the practical side of life, not that much. My daily routine in the Netherlands has a similar rhythm as my life in my home country. I study, work, hang out with friends, go on occasional trips. The bigger change happened in my mental state, in the constant awareness that I am not a national, not part of the ethnic and racial majority here.
Being “non-EU” already shapes my life in visible ways. To list a few, there is visa pressure, need for work permit that make job hunting harder, and emails reminding me that if I do not pass enough credits my residence status could be affected. Even if these rules are procedural, they carry weight. You are reminded that your presence is conditional in a way.
But the deepest shock was racism. In Maastricht, I have lost count of how many times strangers have said “nihao” or “ching chang” while passing by. People have mocked “Asian eyes.” When I worked at an ice cream shop, some customers approached me just to guess my nationality, as if I were a quiz. At night, boys or men, often on bikes, have shouted “yellow” or Dutch slurs at me, swerving too close or trying to block my way. These moments happen suddenly without warning. I freeze. By the time I process what just happened, they are already gone.
It is not every day. It is scattered across three years. But it is enough to change how you move through a city.
During my first year, I was genuinely scared. For months, I avoided going out at night. I covered my face with scarves, tilted my head away from strangers, wore earphones and turned the volume up so I would not hear anything. Even now, my heart races when groups of men pass by.
With time, my reaction has changed. I don’t cry anymore or go home shaking. I sigh and continue walking. I’ve trained myself to feel less, because feeling everything was too exhausting. Part of me hates that I stay quiet. I wish I were brave enough to respond, but protecting myself matters more.
Back home, I moved through life without thinking about how I was perceived. Here, I am constantly aware. That awareness has been my real cultural shock.
Yuki Nakamura, third year bachelor student Arts and Culture