It’s summer. Allegedly.

I know, social media is flooded with swimsuit selfies, sandy toes, and check-ins from Mamaia, Greece, Vadu. Oddly enough, Vama seems suspiciously quiet this year—where are all the barefoot bonfire pics?

Meanwhile, I haven’t even bothered to take my sandals out of the box.

Right now, my weather app shows rain tomorrow. And all weekend. Again. Of course, here in the Netherlands, the forecast changes faster than a toddler’s mood. One moment it’s sunny, the next it’s Noah’s Ark auditions. The Dutch weather has more plot twists than a telenovela—and I love a good drama, but this one? I’d like to cancel my subscription.Rain in the Netherlands is a full theatrical performance. First, there’s a polite drizzle—like a newly installed shower testing the pipes. Then boom! Sunshine. Then buckets of rain that could drown your optimism, followed by not one, but three rainbows, just to confuse you. You leave the house whistling under a cheerful blue sky, and five minutes later, you’re sprinting to your car under a cloud so dark it looks personally offended. I’ve learned the hard way: a purse without an umbrella in this country is just poor planning.

But I genuinely admire the Dutch spirit. They ride their bikes in the rain like it’s no big deal—one hand on the handlebar, the other holding an umbrella with the casual ease of someone picking tulips on a Tuesday. As they say here: “Fietsen in de regen met twee vingers in de neus” — biking in the rain is like putting two fingers up your nose. Charming. Efficient. Very Dutch. Totally not my thing.

And that’s the thing with the Dutch—they’ve perfected the art of genoeg. Just enough. Not too much. Moderation in all things, including sugar, sun, and yes—cookies. Accept a cookie with your coffee and enjoy it fast, because by the time you take a second sip, the box is already back in the cupboard. “Genoeg,” says the polite smile. Translation: “You’ve had your fun, now let’s move on.”

They even joke that all this rain was arranged by the Royal House of Orange, just to give people something to talk about. And talk they do. About rain. Endlessly. Passionately. With the nuanced vocabulary of a culture that’s clearly made peace with its soggy fate.

Need proof? Behold, the Dutch dictionary of doom (aka rain):

• Buien – When the rain thinks it’s over, but is just on a break. You run to Albert Heijn with hope in your heart… and get soaked halfway. Congratulations, you just met Buien!
• Stortbuien – Buien’s evil older sister. Think: giant garden sprinkler gone rogue.
• Mizeren – The drizzle that makes your soul sigh and your therapist reach for her phone; endless rain, sad and wet, giving you all the reasons why “life sucks”.
• Hozen – Biblical downpour. Just go back to bed or hide or seek another country with decent sun. When it’s hozen, it’s raining cats and dogs (het regent pijpenstelen)!
• Plenzen – Like hozen, but somehow more insultingly wet. Again, other countries really have sun 🙂
• Stormen – Code red. Wind howling, trees bowing, roof tiles considering early retirement. Stay indoors. Hug your cat. Rethink your life choices. Lekker weertje, he? (Awesome weather, isn’t it?)

And yet—despite it all—the Netherlands remains heartbreakingly beautiful. Rain or not, there’s always something to see, to taste, to laugh about. The canals are still charming, the towns still cobbled and postcard-perfect, the people still unfazed.

So no, I haven’t packed a swimsuit. But I have packed patience, an umbrella, and a curiosity for everything this wet little wonderland has to offer.

Come on. Take your umbrella. Let’s dance between the raindrops.