Content statement: This article contains themes of death

Volunteering at Salvation Army this week has been significantly easier than last time. There’s less frustration, and hostility from the customers. I’m able to pick up their orders much easier and work much faster. However, There was, and still is a significant communication barrier with people consistently getting frustrated or trying to take advantage of my lack of understanding. Last week, I was trying my best to understand the layout of the new kitchen, and the workflow observing hundreds of people per hour. I’m now feeling more confident in leading the team, even and helping guide them, but it is not without a heavy heart.

Another person in the community passed away a few day’s previous, Claudia. This is about a week after Lazlow. And such a short time frame, it led people at Salvation Army to theorize why, as there is with any death in the community. They are left to grieve for her, but also their own situation. It’s times of loss, where it leads people become grateful for what they have. But when you’re in a significantly vulnerable population with no housing, no food security and no shelter, it can seem impossible. And lead many to wonder ‘am I next?’. I can’t imagine carrying that amount of weight to consistently. I am already struggling with accommodation for this project and support, but know that there is a security blanket If need be.

In Salvation Army specifically, there is a lot of immigrants that come through. One of the workers, being his first time here, explained that he spoke with the guy said was his last day. He mentioned having no support, no job, etc. I could see the weight on the volunteer shoulders as he was explaining this to me. He asked me or even just was saying in general I don’t know how to help him and I said that sometimes it is just communicating and listening as I’m sharing something with you. I may not seem like much but it’s something all we can do and it is sometimes more than a lot of other people do . The people in the shift have never done this before, just being done by the stories they were hearing.Seeing how much it affected them after just a few hours, I started to see how it affects me doing this almost every day. It can be exhausting, draining working in these environments , let alone living in them. , I can’t even imagine how exhausting it is carrying this lack of stability around constantly, or having having that pit in your stomach when people leave, wondering if they will show up next time.

Because of the last couple days, I am feeling burned. Helping out at NOIZ for over nine hours, getting back at midnight, and then showing up at 8:30 AM To salvation. With the significant communication, barrier, and lack of willingness to share, maybe because I’m outside and also female, it also leads to less opportunities to hear from them.

Content statement: This article contains themes of death

I want to help serve, I want to chat, but it seems extremely difficult to communicate. Even so it feels today should not be the day. I feel intrusive, almost as if should not be there. Today is a celebration of Laslo, a long-standing member, and a cherishished voice in the homeless community.

I am now sitting where they make funeral preparations for Laszlo. To see the care, and the attention to detail, there is not a dry in the house. The pain in their eyes is prominent, the strength of their community, the love for the people that go there. I can understand a bit, but there is such a disconnect. I want to understand the intricacies. There is laughter and moments of reminiscing, breaking up the tension, but as a silence heads, the weight is immense. It is moments like this in my project. That will be the hardest, because I as an outsider language, and in general reach a barrier that I don’t know if I can get past. I am trying, but it is like a transcript. I don’t have the technology to read, the ink battle. I just go here a place of understanding, but in these older spaces, and long-term care, it seems I would have an issue they don’t speak English, really, only Dutch, I can use Google Translate and we can converse that way, but even then, there will be things that will be lost.

when you were not an native speaker, I can understand how different it can be to immigrate and be a part of the culture. Especially when you cannot communicate, nor understand. You just sit there, waiting for it to click, find some remnants in a language, that you know but it never does.

One of the pastors at Jacobikerk, Floris, invited me to the dinner at 12, a once a month, free event for people to have a three course meal, sit and chat about their own journey and reflections. I did feel quite bad, because they did a lot of English translation for me, and that made people kind of uncomfortable, but it was really valuable to hear their perspectives and kind of where they’ve come from it.

I really like the map exercise because they’re able to pick three points and which one you feel right now is current to yourself and reflecting on it.

I wasn’t able to do interviews or kind of meet people about their project, but I did get the opportunity to volunteer at Salvation Army, and connect with another individual that works with Anya. I also got lots of information consistently from the different people at the organization about the surrounding supports around. One of the people that I met at the organization has been giving me tours around and introducing me to people for my project. I really found value in trying to connect with people in this organization because they have been homeless themselves and they know what supports are available for their own community and give back to it.

Since arriving in Utrecht, I’ve noticed a significant amount of attention, far more than I had initially anticipated. This heightened visibility has been a concern of mine, especially given my stutter and mild cerebral palsy, which make me walk and talk a bit differently. As a young woman, it has been somewhat overwhelming. In response to the influx of attention and to regain my equilibrium, I decided to take a slow week, reducing my outings for a couple of days.

However, even during a casual mid-afternoon walk to a family friend’s house, I found myself being stopped three times by strangers. This kind of interaction has become a recurring theme, whether it’s people on the street, individuals I’m interviewing for my project, friends, or even those I had hoped would serve as valuable mentors—all of them somehow veering towards romantic advances. Alternatively, there are instances when I go unnoticed entirely, even when I’m open to a simple, pleasant conversation. This week, I found myself taking a break and only scheduling one interview at SPAT. Balancing these extremes has proven to be quite challenging.

My initial decision to come to Europe was partially based on the belief that it would be beneficial for my project, and I might blend in more easily, thereby reducing the attention I’d attract compared to a country where I’d stand out even more. My distinctive way of speaking and moving already makes me stand out, but the added attention has left me feeling apprehensive. Meeting people here has proved to be quite the challenge. While people are generally friendly, they tend to have close-knit circles and typically only engage in conversation when approached. Establishing connections beyond mere pleasantries is exceedingly difficult unless there’s a romantic interest involved. Conversations with a girl from Dublin, someone from the UK, and locals all echoed the same sentiment.

This situation is somewhat surprising, considering how open and vibrant Utrecht is, with its charming canals, abundant restaurants, and people enjoying themselves late into the night. I had initially assumed it would be easy to integrate into the community. However, I quickly realized that resorting to methods like using Bumble Friends would be more effective in finding like-minded individuals.

Another challenge I faced was that while I was making connections, most of the people I met were somehow related to my project, and many of them were significantly older and often less stable. Due to safety concerns stemming from the attention I received during the day, going out to places like bars by myself seemed nearly impossible. Even when I found an older person whom I considered a good mentor and a tour guide, they would ask me uncomfortable questions whenever we hung out.

I recall a particular incident at the station where I was waiting for a friend for only 10 minutes, and a man approached me persistently, attempting to take me to “see the beautiful river” and exchanging numbers multiple times. It seemed that the only thing that could defuse such situations was when I was with someone else or walking towards them. Even a 15-minute walk back to my place after an interview resulted in uncomfortable advances.

Recently, I had a conversation with a local who mentioned that his friend, also an expat, had experienced similar frequent advances. While it was disheartening to hear, it was also reassuring to know that I wasn’t alone in this experience. It appears that people here currently see me as something to possess rather than someone with whom to share experiences.

When I traveled at a younger age, specifically at 15 or 16, this was the majority of the attention I received, primarily from older men. Interestingly, as I got older and reached 18, this kind of attention diminished significantly. It wasn’t because I dressed differently; if anything, I felt more comfortable in my own skin and appeared more desirable. However, it seemed that the innocence and naivety of youth were what attracted some individuals. I even noticed that when I wore some of my older clothes, I would attract significantly more attention than expected.

Here in Utrecht and the Netherlands, it seems to be the opposite. People tend to gravitate towards older women rather than younger ones, which is a bittersweet feeling. It’s a dynamic I didn’t expect to encounter as frequently. It felt like a preferable alternative, but I may need to accept that due to my differences, gender, or some other factor, this kind of attention is likely to persist. When I discussed this with a family friend, he suggested that it might not change, but I would like to find a middle ground and create an environment that feels less overwhelming. I am heading to Germany today and will be back in Utrecht at the beginning of November, so I’ll see where this journey leads me.