Wherever I am in the world I smile a little when I glimpse the logo of KLM, TomTom, Philips, or Unilever. I once even took pictures of an airplane flying circles over the city of Chicago, with a slogan of Heineken behind it. Why? I don’t even drink beer!
It’s because these businesses are Dutch, and I am Dutch too.
There’s nothing rational about it. I rarely want to hang out with other Dutch people when I’m abroad. I usually find them lacking good taste, manners, humor, and spare change. But beware! Don’t ever make the mistake of writing my name with an umlaut, thank-you-very-much. My name is Jurgen, not Jürgen. I’m Dutch, not German.
Strangely enough, except for some misfits who are either recently imported or incurably catatonic, I seem to be the only Dutch person not participating in football parties or Queensday celebrations. I really don’t care that much about the cheese hats and lion pants. But when I’m on the other side of the planet, I admit I will proudly wear orange.
I told you, it’s not rational. It doesn’t make any sense.
How about you?
Would you proudly wear a t-shirt with the flag of your country? How about the name of your spouse? A drawing by your children? The symbol of your sports club? The colors of your political party?