Birvidik

It is a commonly held misconception that the combined effects of mass communications and the dictates of the EU have effectively erased the differences between cultures, especially within Europe.

This is far from the case, as becomes obvious to the cruiser, who calls into areas situated less squarely on the tourist route. In fact, if you scratch beneath the surface it becomes apparent in tourist areas as well. Perhaps cruisers tend to find this to a greater extent as they are more likely to find themselves having to deal with the minutiae of everyday life than are those on a two week holiday. If you're staying at the Hotel Splendido you don't often find yourself spending the hottest part of the day scouring the dusty, fly-blown outskirts of town for the parts you need to fix your toilet.

Although, I don't know, perhaps you do - I've never stayed at the Hotel Splendido.


Nevertheless, all human cultures seem to harbour stereotypes of other nationalities. Some are patently untrue and blatantly slanderous. Others though, despite their many individual exceptions, do seem to contain a kernel of truth. This is possibly because they reflect, in an exaggerated caricature it is true, some fundamental attitudes, beliefs, norms, manners or customs of the culture in question. Being wishy-washy liberals we refuse to think in stereotypes. We prefer to rejoice in the wide diversity of human nature and to judge each individual on his or her merits.

Well, we try.

Paradoxically, these stereotypes are most virulently apparent when applied to nearest neighbours rather than to truly exotic, far-away cultures. A prime example of this is the cultural antagonism between the British and their closest neighbours, namely the French.

In British eyes, the stereotypical Frenchman is a stylish, elegant, sophisticated, cultured, arrogant, smug, snobbish epicure who looks down condescendingly on all other nationalities, especially the British and the Germans. He's not too keen on the Dutch either. His idea of slobbing out is to sit in a dark smoky café discussing abstruse philosophical concepts over a glass of absinthe.

He is fluent in at least four languages, including English, but refuses to speak anything but auctioneer speed French to any foreigner who has the temerity to attempt to engage him in conversation. He has the uncanny ability to make exquisite good manners and politeness deeply insulting and humiliating. He has a frequent, varied and imaginative sex life and at least four lovers, as has his wife - a fact with which he is perfectly comfortable. He takes his pleasures very seriously. He vigorously defends his self interest and will strike, demonstrate or riot at the drop of a hat.

Only some of which is true.


It took us three years to get from the English Channel to Marmaris. This gave us time to acclimatise to the progressive cultural change between Britain and the more Levantine countries of Greece and Turkey. Nevertheless, we had to adapt our opinions at each culture we encountered as we found that there was a far from exact match between reality and our preconceived stereotypes.

It is remarkable how psychologically adaptable human beings are. They can live the most bizarre and outlandish lives but, after a short time, it all seems normal to them. We based ourselves in Greece and Turkey for a total of six years. We went native in around six months and lived happily in the culture ever since.

We didn't have the luxury of acclimatisation time for the reverse process, going as we did from Lefkas to The Netherlands in a few days. We made this journey with our usual full complement of idle prejudices, cockamamie half truths and unsubstantiated expectations about our destination.

We confidently expected that the Calvinistic Dutch, in contrast to the laid-back, laissez-faire Greeks, would be fiendishly efficient, full of the Protestant work ethic and sticklers for The Rules. We expected them to be punctilious about the rules of the road; unlike the Greeks to whom road signs, rules, one-way systems and markings are merely advisory at best and a gross and insulting infringement of personal liberty when not at best, which is most of the time.

We expected the Dutch squirrels to be motivated by foresight, financial conservatism and concern for the future while the Grasshopper Greeks frittered everything away on fripperies and the joys of the moment. The components of this half-baked assessment were both presciently true and complete cobblers in about equal measures.

Take, for example, the famed Dutch combination of a Calvinistic work-ethic and a preoccupation with making money. This contrasts with the popular impression of the Greeks as idle spendthrifts with the application and sense of purpose of Bertie Wooster. However, at 2017 hours per year, the Greeks work the longest hours in Europe.

The shortest?

Go on - have a guess.

Yup it's the Dutch on 1377, closely followed by the Germans on 1408 and the British on 1647. Mind you, the Greeks are the second least productive after Hungary. And possibly Romania - I haven't got any up to date figures on them.

The Dutch, however, are up near the top of the productivity league. This piece of news came as a surprise to us given our experiences in getting work done at peak times in both countries.

The Greeks are fully aware of seasonal variations in demand, especially in the tourism and marine sectors. When the money's to be made, the Greeks will be there to make it. They'll work all the hours God sends and then some he'd missed. Items and parts are couriered out to even the most isolated islands in a couple of days. Even in August. No, I correct that, especially in August.

You try getting any work done in The Netherlands in August - you know, the busiest boating month of the year..

No chance.

The Dutch go on holiday in August.

Every last man-jack of them.

The whole place grinds to a halt leaving a sorry trail of broken down boats across the country, all of them condemned to spend the entire month languishing in backwaters, their occupants subsisting on tinned cabbage, bland cheese and pickled herring while they wait for the engine/cooker/toilet/fridge/xBox to be repaired.

Then there is the attitude to rules and regulations. This is not as clear-cut and one sided as our preconceptions would have had us believe. In some areas it is the Greeks who are sticklers for rigid adherence to the rules whereas in others it is the Dutch.

In the matter of boating paperwork, the Greeks win hands down. If you pull in to any Greek port you're likely to have a phalanx of officials descend on you and demand your papers which, if you're very unlucky, will be thoroughly scrutinised and usually found wanting.

Marinas demand proof of ownership, registration papers, insurance, passports, mother's maiden name and notarised proof of inside leg measurement. The laws requiring this absurd attention to unnecessary detail have been superseded for over a year now but news has yet to filter down the chain of command to the ground troops. In fact, the Greek fetish for paperwork is such that I suspect that technically you can't even fart in the country without the government-sanctioned Flatulence Permit having been issued, stamped and dated before being officially countersigned by a State Registered proctologist.

The Dutch are the diametric opposite. If you buy a boat in The Netherlands you just pay the money and drive it away. We haven't been asked for any paperwork at all. Anywhere.

The converse occurs with road transport. In Greece, the car is regarded as an extension of the personality, of the spirit even, and must be allowed full freedom of expression, untrammelled by petty restrictions such as one-way systems, bans on triple parking or dictates as to which side of the road you should drive on.

The Dutch authorities view the car as an occasionally necessary but unruly and immoral spawn of The Devil which must be ruthlessly regulated into submission or (preferably) extinction. The Dutch government is failing in this quest. Motor traffic is strictly regulated, but it continues to grow exponentially. Around the larger cities and motorway junctions traffic jams reach herculean proportions on a thrice-daily basis. Thousands of cars end up gridlocked into gigantic six-lane car parks.

In addition there are a host of ancillary irritations and regulations. Number plate recognition technology means you can be fined 97 euros for driving a non-emission-compliant vehicle into clean air zones. To be fair, you are notified of this restriction by notices the size of a post-it note stuck on the odd lamp post. These are written in white on a light grey background in 8 point font in Dutch. You can also be fined for straying into the multitude of reserved lanes - bus lanes, taxi lanes, tram lanes and, of course, bicycle lanes.

Probably as a result of all these proscriptions, the Dutch are about the most disciplined, law abiding, polite and accommodating drivers we have come across.

Except when they're on a bicycle.

Usually, when someone uses the word 'iconic' I reach for my chainsaw, but in the case of the Dutch, the bicycle, along with the windmill and the copyrighting of the concept of 'flat' can justifiably have the epithet 'iconic' ascribed. They're bloody everywhere. City centres and railway stations have multi-story racks that can accommodate them by the thousand.

The bicycle has been elevated to totemic status and, like the cow in Hindu society, is exempt from all responsibility and regulation. The bicycle is always right. If you have a collision with a bicycle it's your fault. Even if he throws himself off a motorway bridge directly under your wheels, it's your fault. Drivers in the Netherlands tip-toe nervously around cyclist as if driving on eggshells.

As a result, Dutch cyclists develop a partially justified sense of entitlement and invulnerability. Following on from this, bicycle traffic is a free for all which makes Greek traffic manners look like synchronised swimming by comparison.

And so we end, as we began, with the subject of national stereotypes and their reliability as an heuristic tool. Our stereotypical Dutchman, as has been mentioned in blogs passim, is a sort of German-lite; direct and terse to the point of brusqueness but without the tendency to annex the Sudetenland; a crabby old misanthrope with the social skills of a congenital sociopath; a xenophobic bigot who nevertheless speaks at least eight languages with literary fluency and reads Proust in the original French for a bit of light relaxation.

Paradoxically, he is also a tolerant, open-minded liberal who looks for pragmatic solutions to problems rather than trying to impose measures based on his own beliefs or ideology. He is friendly and accepting of others' foibles to a fault and is reasonable to the point where you want to grab him by the throat and scream "FOR GOD'S SAKE MAN, PICK A BLOODY SIDE!"

All our experiences with the Dutch have led us to believe the more positive aspects of the stereotype. Without exception, they've been open, friendly, generous and helpful as well as excellent conversationalists, especially as most of them speak better English than did most of the kids I used to teach.

What is surprising, though, is that the Dutch themselves seem to subscribe to the veracity of the negative stereotype. I was telling a Dutch neighbour in the marina how we liked the country, and indeed the people, so much that we were staying an extra season here.

He spluttered with incomprehension.

"How can you say that? We're xenophobic, rude, aggressive, arrogant and bloody-minded."

I couldn't let this unjustified deprecation of national character go unchallenged.

"Call yourself xenophobic, rude, aggressive, arrogant and bloody-minded? Amateur! Stand aside, Sunshine, this is a Brit you're talking to."