Significance in a Napkin

I'm reading a book now, The Expats, by Chris Pavone. The book was released soon after Brett and I made the decision to move to the Netherlands. I wanted to read it, hot off the shelves, but I was concerned it would taint my own ideas of the experiences of expat life. So I waited. I'm glad I did. Within the first couple of pages, with the exception of this being a spy novel about a women running away from a past CIA life, which I'm not doing, I felt this novel could be my story.

The main character, Kate, at one point reminisces about how she used to be able to distinguish immigrants immigrating to the US in airports by looking at their faces of worry and bewilderment, "clutching handfuls of red or green passports that set them apart from the blue-passported Americans." She is struck with this memory, as she herself, finds her family in the middle of a foreign airport "clutching her family's blue passports, distinct from the German's burgundy..." It is at this moment, that she realizes she is an immigrant, immigrating. This scene struck me speechless (if you can be struck speechless while doing something singular like reading a book) - because I distinctly remember the feeling that Kate had when realizing that she was an island of blue among an ocean of burgundy passports.

I am an immigrant.

I've never really given napkins a second thought. I've used them, and then tossed them away. I may have admired a cute design on a napkin, but I never looked twice at one and noticed what it symbolized. Never, until yesterday.

As I walked into my staff lounge yesterday afternoon, ready to enjoy the festive atmosphere that rang throughout the building all day celebrating the upcoming Queen's Day and her abdication of the thrown, my eyes caught sight of an orange napkin with the names "Beatrix" and 'Willem Alexander" and the date "30-04-13" written on it. At that moment, I was hit with this awesome wave of clarity - I was here to witness the passing of a monarch - a long standing, deeply routed and loved establishment within this nation. I was struck with this immense sense of pride and respect toward my adopted country, and it was at that moment, I didn't feel like an immigrant anymore.

My thoughts then shifted to the countless Fourth of July celebrations I've been a part of; the number of American Flag napkins I've used and thrown away without a second thought. And I was almost left breathless. I wondered how immigrants in the US experienced their first Fourth of July. Did they, like me, look on with astonishment at how people celebrate their history and hopefully feel part of the party?

Part of my school's mission is to instill international mindedness into our students. However, I think it is me, that has had a lesson in international mindedness this week.

I may never never look at a napkin the same again.

Cheers,

Noel


Queen's Day Pictures:

The napkin of reflection