Ragini Werner was born in Indonesia and grew up in New Zealand. After a rough spell in London, she moved to Amsterdam where she eventually became a corporate journalist at Elsevier. She’s now semi-retired, lives in a small village north of Groningen, and writes fiction. Her latest novel, Becoming Janice, was released in April. 

How did you end up in the Netherlands?
I had a plan as a kid. I was going to become a world famous actress. I’d first conquer New Zealand, then Australia, and then go to London’s West End where a movie agent would discover me and bring me to Hollywood where I would win two Oscars.

So that was the plan. I did okay in New Zealand, but couldn’t even get an agent in Australia. By the time I got to London I couldn’t even get a job in stage management. I had been working as a assistant stage manager at the Sydney Opera House. After living with my brother who was a ballet dancer, I moved into a grotty bedsit in north London. The rising damp had crept up the wall so far it reached the ceiling and I was waking up with plaster on my face every day. It was really miserable.

One day I was in the Tube and I saw a reflection in the window of a girl crying. I looked at it and realised, “Hey, that’s me.” I decided that was enough. I had a Dutch passport since I was born in Indonesia and opted to give the Netherlands a try. I arrived in Amsterdam on my birthday in 1980 and knew the name of one cafe so I went there. I asked them if they knew where I could stay and they pointed me to a student hostel. I’ve been in the Netherlands ever since.

How do you describe yourself – an expat, lovepat, immigrant, international?
I think of myself as an outsider because all my life I’ve been an outsider. I was born in Indonesia before it gained independence, thus my Dutch passport, but I don’t consider myself Dutch or Indonesian.

When we got to New Zealand, it took my family a long time to become naturalised citizens. Back in the day, it was very much the Land of Rugby, Racing, and Beer. It was a very macho country and my dad was a ballet teacher. He was the only man teaching it in the entire country and he didn’t like beer and didn’t go to the pub. My mum fitted in more than he did.

Even though I grew up as a Kiwi, there was always something that kept me as an outside observer. Of course, when I got to Australia and later the UK, I was a foreigner. When I got here, there was the irony of having a Dutch passport but not being Dutch at all culturally and I didn’t even speak the language. I’ll never be as Dutch as my passport says I am. I don’t like riding a bicycle, I can’t skate, I don’t like zuurkool, and Dutch bluntness can still shock me.

How long do you plan to stay?
I arrived here on my 26th birthday, and 44 years later, I’m still here. I have no plans to live anywhere else. I think the Netherlands is one of the better places in the world to live. When people hear my accent and ask me where I’m from, I tell them New Zealand. “Why would you want to live here when you could be there?” they typically ask me.

My stock answer is: “If you want to go to Paris for the weekend, where would you rather live?” Then they get it. New Zealand is great, but it’s just too far away. Here in Europe, everything is so accessible. 

Do you speak Dutch and how did you learn?
Yes, and it was through pillow talk. My lovers were Dutch. They spoke English better than I spoke Dutch, so you can probably imagine what language we used.

When I was living in Amsterdam, I didn’t have to speak Dutch. I did go to Dutch lessons, but I worked at a company where everyone spoke English and my work was in English. When I moved up here though, things were different. I was forced to speak Dutch. In the beginning, I hated it. I hated making stupid mistakes with the language. I had to get over that and quickly.

You’re going to make mistakes when you first start learning a language and you aren’t going to find jokes funny until you understand the nuances. After a time, my Dutch got a lot better. Now I only speak English once in a while when I meet with my English friends. All my conversations these days are in Dutch. I now often think in Dutch and have to translate my thoughts into English.

What’s your favourite Dutch thing?
I’ve got two things. First of all, I love the big sky, the cloudscapes, and the evening light. My garden faces southwest and I’ve got a tremendous view. It just goes on and on and on. The sky is stunning. It’s just so big, wide, and open. It reminds me of New Zealand.

The sunsets are spectacular. If you look at the paintings of the grand masters of the Golden Age, you will know exactly what I mean. Two names come to mind: Jacob van Ruisdael and Aelbert Cuyp. The man behind the famous market in Amsterdam? He was an artist. They used to do landscapes and cloudscapes.

The other thing I really like is rookworst. It’s because, when I was a kid, every once in a while we’d have rookworst for dinner. There was nothing Dutch in New Zealand back in the day, but friends would usually bring them over from the Netherlands when they visited. It was a very rare treat.

I have never tasted that flavour in a smoked sausage anywhere else in the world. For me as a kid, that was the taste of Holland. When I go to Hema and have one now, it’s the same taste. It hasn’t changed.

How Dutch have you become?
You probably know the saying ‘if you ain’t Dutch, you ain’t much.’ Well, in my heart, despite the increasingly dire political situation we have here today, I am inclined to agree. I like being Dutch, if only on paper at least. I love living here. However, again, I’ll never be as Dutch as my passport says I am.

I speak Dutch and I speak it well, but I speak it with an accent. People can hear that. I don’t sound Dutch. I’m as Dutch as I can be but within the limitations that being an outsider poses. It can be quite challenging, but I don’t mind being a foreigner.

Which three Dutch people (dead or alive) would you most like to meet?
Agatha Deken and Elisabeth Wolff. When I lived in Amsterdam, I lived on the Agatha Dekenstraat. The street next door was the Elisabeth Wolffstraat. As a foreigner, I had never heard of these people, but I learned they were two lesbians who lived together from the mid 1700s to 1804 when one of them died nine days after the first. What makes them remarkable is that they were Dutch pioneers in the literary scene of the 18th century.

They published a classic novel in the form of letters called The History of Miss Sara Burgerhart, which they dedicated to Dutch young ladies. These two women really shook up the notion of the Dutch novel. So I lived on the Agatha Dekenstraat and then I wound up working on the Sara Burgerhartstraat. That’s where my office was. So I would have loved to have met Wolff and Deken because they were quite revolutionary in their day. They had literary salons and were the only women accepted in literary society.

The other person I would have loved to meet was my Dutch grandmother, Jeanette Wiebenga. She died when I was only a year old, so I never knew her. She was a remarkable woman in Indonesia who became a widow when my mother was only three weeks old.

My granny had a patch of land she built up into a complex of holiday bungalows, swimming pools, and botanical gardens. She called it Zwembad Prana [Prana Swimming Pool] and it became very, very popular. A famous Dutch Olympian and politician named Erica Terpstra learned how to swim there. My grandmother was remarkable. In an era when women couldn’t look after themselves, she did. She created a wonderful estate that made many people very happy.

What’s your top tourist tip?
I have to say what’s obvious for me and that’s Groningen. It’s a peppy university town with lots to do and see. It’s not as overrun by tourists as Amsterdam. Once you get up here, and it’s a very short train ride, you can explore the landscape. If you think a flat landscape is boring, look again, and if you think that’s boring, look up.

It’s got all the atmosphere and liveliness of Amsterdam. There’s lots to do, there’s lots of culture, and lots of arts. The Groningen Museum is world famous and there’s lots of theatre and student activities going on. The street art is fabulous. It really is striking.

Tell us something surprising you’ve found out about the Netherlands
This is something that I only discovered until I’d lived in the Netherlands for 20 years. Amsterdam is *not* the Netherlands. I used to think when I lived there that it was a microcosm of the Netherlands. It is not. The rest of the country is, well, quite Dutch. People who live in the Randstad underestimate those who don’t. I think you’ve actually got to move out to a place like my village to realise that. 

If you had just 24 hours left in the Netherlands, what would you do?
First of all, I’d refuse to leave. You’d have to take me out feet first. Secondly, if I didn’t have a choice and was being forced to leave, I probably wouldn’t be able to take my dog with me. I’d rush around making arrangements for someone to look after him. He’s a Jack Russell, he has brown fur, and I call him Cappuccino after my favourite drink, Chino for short.

I wouldn’t want to be without him. So the short answer: I don’t want to leave the Netherlands. You’d have to force me at gunpoint and, even then, I’d probably take the bullet first. [laughs] Then I’d do whatever I could to look after my little dog.

You can learn more about Ragini’s writing and other projects on her website

Ragini was talking to Brandon Hartley.