One of the hardest things about leaving the world of work and moving to Amsterdam has been adjusting my personal expectations about time and productivity.  While I stake no claim to the mantle of efficiency expert or workaholic, I think I’ve always been a get things done kind of person.  I love making to-do lists and probably get way too much satisfaction from crossing things off.  There is undoubtedly something Freudian about that, but what it is slips my mind.  That’s why it is a bit frustrating to come to the end of a day and realize I’ve only completed a third of my list.  Where did my day go? Why did it take so long to do so little? Does Dutch time work differently than it did back home?  It’s not like I’ve been sitting at home eating bon bons and watching Days of our Lives with Dutch subtitles.

What I’m trying  to accept is that it just takes longer to do things here.  A recent trip to the post office, for example, took an hour and half.  It’s not that the Dutch are inefficient. Far from it, the postal clerks were speedy and helpful.  And there wasn’t a long wait in line; I was able to get in and out in less than ten minutes.  But being in a new city and country, it was necessary to first find the post office.  Then it was necessary to walk the seven blocks to get there — with only a few stops to admire the vibrant stained glass in a doorway or the interesting architectural details on a row of gables. It was an enjoyable way to spend 90 minutes.  At least it was until I checked my list — no wonder I’m not crossing much off!

Earlier this week I thought my time problem may have been solved.  With the arrival of our sea shipment, we started using our old alarm clocks.  I plugged them in with the appropriate adaptor, set the time and went off to unwrap another 900 dishes  — I never realized just how much stuff we really have until now. Walking by the bedroom a few hours later, I noticed that the clock was 20 minutes slow. “Must have set it wrong,” I muttered to myself. I fixed the time and returned to my boxes.  As I was stumbling to bed an hour later, I saw that the alarm clock and my watch were ten minutes apart.  Certain I had set the alarm clock correctly this time, I compared a minute on my watch with a minute on the clock and learned that an alarm clock minute was equal to a minute and twelve seconds on the watch.

For a few sleepy moments I envisioned a day filled with extra time.  The proper calculations eluded me, but I figured the alarm clock would give me at least a couple of extra hours every day.  I could  sleep a little longer, run an errand or two and still have a full day to do all the things on my list.  Or I could fill the time with reading and going to museums and have no guilt over not getting the housework done.  Oh the possibilities!

As I set the alarm, it dawned on me that my magical clock wouldn’t help much if all the other clocks in the world didn’t keep the same time.  The girls wouldn’t get to school on time, lunch would turn into dinner and my extra time would be wasted trying to explain why I was always late for everything.  I grudgingly spent the next five minutes trying to calculate what time I needed to set the alarm clock that would conform to the rigid strictures of standard time.

That night I dreamed of setting up a new time system where everyone adds ten minutes to every hour.  If we can arbitrarily change time twice a year with daylight saving time, why can’t we add some time to each hour?  If everyone agreed, we could all enjoy the benefits of more time. Simple, right?

I have since purchased a new Dutch alarm clock that keeps the same time as everyone else.  But I think I need to work harder to recognize the value in the journey, not just the destination. I need to relax and let the girls stop and examine things along the way and not just focus on where we are going. I’m sure the next trip to the post office will  take less time, but I need to stop and enjoy the view of that tree lined canal and not just rush home.  I’m close, but I still hear the siren song of that to-do list.  I’m not ready to give up my list yet, but perhaps I can start by putting less on it.