There is no bacon aisle in the Netherlands.<\/p>\n
Let me rephrase that: there\u2019s no bacon experience<\/i>. No wall of options. No curated boutique of hickory-smoked, maple-glazed, thick-cut, double-applewood, black peppercorn, sugar-free, nitrate-free artisan pig strips wrapped in eco-conscious packaging and sealed with a little American flag in the corner.<\/p>\n
Nope.<\/p>\n
In the Dutch grocery store\u2014specifically my local Albert Heijn\u2014there are exactly two<\/b><\/span> options:<\/p>\n \u2022 Round bacon.<\/p>\n \u2022 Strip bacon.<\/p>\n That\u2019s it. No brands. No gimmicks. No flavors. It\u2019s not \u201cfrom somewhere.\u201d It\u2019s not massaged with brown sugar and rosemary. It\u2019s just bacon<\/b><\/span>. Dutch bacon. Albert Heijn\u2019s bacon. Take it or leave it.<\/p>\n That moment\u2014standing in front of a single sad little refrigerated section\u2014was the first time I felt culturally disarmed in a Dutch grocery store.<\/p>\n And it wasn\u2019t the last.<\/p>\n The Great Coffee Creamer Tragedy<\/b><\/b><\/p>\n Let\u2019s talk about coffee creamer<\/b><\/span>.<\/p>\n Or rather, let\u2019s talk about how it doesn\u2019t exist here<\/i>.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t mean milk. Or plant-based alternatives. I mean the real stuff<\/b><\/span>\u2014those chemical-laced, shelf-stable, American concoctions with names like Chocolate and Caramel<\/i>, Peppermint Mocha<\/i>, or Fruity Pebbles <\/i>(which is real and<\/em> amazing). The kind of stuff that tastes like dessert and self-loathing.<\/p>\n In the U.S., I had my go-to: Coffee Mate Italian Sweet Cr\u00e8me, which is relatively tame in relation to all the other absurd flavors. They had entire aisles dedicated to it, and in bottles the size of two liter soda. Here? Not a trace. Not even the boring<\/i> ones. I searched every shelf in every grocery store for months.<\/p>\n Eventually, I gave up. I now drink my coffee like a civilized European\u2014with steamed milk or oat milk, quietly mourning the overprocessed joy I once had.<\/p>\n Cereal Aisles Built for Grown-Ups<\/b><\/b><\/p>\n The cereal aisle was my next wake-up call.<\/p>\n In America, cereal is a Saturday morning sugar carnival. It\u2019s loud, nostalgic, and deeply unserious. There are literally dozens of options screaming at you with cartoon mascots and bold colors and promises like \u201cNow With DOUBLE Marshmallows!\u201d and \u201cTurns Milk Blue!\u201d<\/p>\n Here in the Netherlands?<\/p>\n You get like six choices. Maybe seven if someone messed up the stock rotation. A couple kinds of muesli. Some cornflakes. A knockoff Cocoa Puff situation. That\u2019s your lineup.<\/p>\n No mascots. No marshmallow madness. No paralyzing choice fatigue.<\/p>\n You just pick the cereal. And move on with your life.<\/p>\n The Turkey Treasure Hunt<\/b><\/b><\/p>\n And then there was turkey.<\/p>\n I went months thinking the Netherlands just\u2026 didn\u2019t have it. I checked every meat section in every Albert Heijn, thinking maybe it was seasonal, or maybe turkey just wasn\u2019t a thing here. Turns out, it is<\/i>\u2014but it\u2019s hidden. Quiet. Humble. And when you finally find it? There\u2019s just one kind.<\/p>\n One sad little packet of sliced turkey. No brands. No honey-roasted, peppered, smoked, low-sodium, organic, or mesquite-grilled options. No deli counter employee asking how thick you want it sliced. Just\u2026 turkey. The Dutch grocery store version of \u201cwe got what we got.\u201d<\/p>\n Fewer Choices, More Sanity<\/b><\/b><\/p>\n At first, I found it mildly infuriating. Where was my freedom? My expression? My consumer identity?<\/p>\n But somewhere along the line, I realized: this is actually kind of\u2026 great?<\/p>\n I don\u2019t waste time wandering. I don\u2019t second-guess every item. I don\u2019t impulse-buy a $7 bag of maple bacon kettle chips because the package looked like a flannel shirt and whispered \u201cman snack\u201d<\/i> at me.<\/p>\n I just shop. I get what I need. I go home.<\/p>\n The Dutch grocery store isn\u2019t here to delight or seduce me. It\u2019s not trying to reinvent my personality through frozen pizza choices. It\u2019s here to function<\/b><\/span>. To serve. To keep you fed.<\/p>\n There\u2019s something weirdly liberating about that. Something quiet and adult.<\/p>\n Dutch Grocery Store Differences That Hit Me Hard<\/b><\/b><\/p>\n I came to the Netherlands expecting cultural adjustment, sure.<\/p>\n Language, weather, transportation, maybe.<\/p>\n But not this<\/i>.<\/p>\n Not the bacon.<\/p>\n Not the coffee creamer void.<\/p>\n Not the cereal aisle that feels more like a health food corner than a Candyland vortex of childhood memories.<\/p>\n And yet, here I am. Shopping in a grocery store that doesn\u2019t want to distract me, overwhelm me, or sell me twenty variations of the same thing. Just food. Just what I need. No more, no less.<\/p>\n And honestly?<\/p>\n That might be the most surprisingly beautiful thing I\u2019ve experienced since moving here.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"There is no bacon aisle in the Netherlands. Let me rephrase that: there\u2019s no bacon experience. 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