Natalia Tapia Moreno, Grade 11
UWC Maastricht
Being a student at UWC will surely bring a lot of new experiences to your life, especially considering that many first years would be travelling to an unknown country by themselves. Those novel experiences will be mostly shaped by the culture of the UWC where you go. Furthermore, you will be influenced by the modus vivendi of the country where you reside.
When I was assigned UWC Maastricht by my National Committee, there was one thing that I found intriguing about the surrounding Dutch culture even before arriving: the Doorzonwoning (although I did not know the noun back then).
Doorzonwoning could be somehow translated to “house through which the sun shines”, and it also defines an average Dutch house. If you go to the Netherlands, the chances are high that you will come across one of them, no matter where in the country you go. What is remarkable about this type of house is that their living room has a pair of huge windows located at the front and the back of the house. More interestingly, the living room extends over the depth of the house, so both windows will allow sunlight to light up the entire room as the name suggests.
I barely knew about Dutch architecture, my main sources being movies and pictures from Deutsche Welle’s Instagram account. No wonder I romanticized Dutch buildings, which also explains the reason why I was extremely excited to finally directly see the quaint houses of the Netherlands (not to take credits off, it’s totally worth being stunned by).
Walking down the Frankenstraat, a street located nearby the campus, and seeing a Dutch neighbourhood for the first time in my life was fascinating. I was hooked by the tiny, exorbitant, casual, or artistic decorations placed in front of the windows. Interestingly enough, such big windows did not have curtains, and you could see a dining table or the sofas in the living room.
After doing some research, I stumbled upon a forum where someone said that houses are built this way so people can take advantage of the sunlight. I remember thinking that it was ironic since at the time I hadn’t experienced a single sunny day yet, but it also made sense that they wanted to maximize the benefits of the little sunshine they get. Later on, I found out about a tax imposed in the early 1800s that charged for the number of windows on each house. Consecutively, I found a seemingly historical reason why you rarely find curtains in the windows: due to Calvinism people wanted to show that they had nothing to hide; what they owned could be seen by the neighbours. One last explanation said that since a lot of Dutchmen were sailors and had to leave for long periods, the uncovered windows were a way to show the loyalty of the awaiting partner. Whichever is the reason, it gave the Netherlands a characterizing icon that it’s hard to dismiss.
It might be a discourteous gesture to peek at the interior of the houses as you walk by the street, but I was mesmerized by the stories that seemed to come out of each of the windows —floating in the air, waiting to be told. I took the displays on the windows that were facing me, the outsider, as an invitation to momentarily question what the story of that house was.
I came to learn that each decoration carries a particular significance and contributes to the identity of each home, one that I might never get to fully understand. It was after this reflection that I translated the houses into my personal relationships and the stories of the people I had met at UWCM. It might be an odd metaphor. However, it’s true that one can only see what each person puts on display for the public. As a distant observer, you cannot get to the roots of the stories that people portray, not by a single gaze. Only by being invited to walk in and interact with each other, you might be closer to understanding people’s identity. This lesson was the result of a ramble over Dutch windows; nevertheless, it was particularly significant at the beginning of my UWC experience as I met people from places I had never heard of, and it has remained as a memorable thing to consider when acquainting new individuals.
When I was assigned UWC Maastricht by my National Committee, there was one thing that I found intriguing about the surrounding Dutch culture even before arriving: the Doorzonwoning (although I did not know the noun back then).
Doorzonwoning could be somehow translated to “house through which the sun shines”, and it also defines an average Dutch house. If you go to the Netherlands, the chances are high that you will come across one of them, no matter where in the country you go. What is remarkable about this type of house is that their living room has a pair of huge windows located at the front and the back of the house. More interestingly, the living room extends over the depth of the house, so both windows will allow sunlight to light up the entire room as the name suggests.
I barely knew about Dutch architecture, my main sources being movies and pictures from Deutsche Welle’s Instagram account. No wonder I romanticized Dutch buildings, which also explains the reason why I was extremely excited to finally directly see the quaint houses of the Netherlands (not to take credits off, it’s totally worth being stunned by).
Walking down the Frankenstraat, a street located nearby the campus, and seeing a Dutch neighbourhood for the first time in my life was fascinating. I was hooked by the tiny, exorbitant, casual, or artistic decorations placed in front of the windows. Interestingly enough, such big windows did not have curtains, and you could see a dining table or the sofas in the living room.
After doing some research, I stumbled upon a forum where someone said that houses are built this way so people can take advantage of the sunlight. I remember thinking that it was ironic since at the time I hadn’t experienced a single sunny day yet, but it also made sense that they wanted to maximize the benefits of the little sunshine they get. Later on, I found out about a tax imposed in the early 1800s that charged for the number of windows on each house. Consecutively, I found a seemingly historical reason why you rarely find curtains in the windows: due to Calvinism people wanted to show that they had nothing to hide; what they owned could be seen by the neighbours. One last explanation said that since a lot of Dutchmen were sailors and had to leave for long periods, the uncovered windows were a way to show the loyalty of the awaiting partner. Whichever is the reason, it gave the Netherlands a characterizing icon that it’s hard to dismiss.
It might be a discourteous gesture to peek at the interior of the houses as you walk by the street, but I was mesmerized by the stories that seemed to come out of each of the windows —floating in the air, waiting to be told. I took the displays on the windows that were facing me, the outsider, as an invitation to momentarily question what the story of that house was.
I came to learn that each decoration carries a particular significance and contributes to the identity of each home, one that I might never get to fully understand. It was after this reflection that I translated the houses into my personal relationships and the stories of the people I had met at UWCM. It might be an odd metaphor. However, it’s true that one can only see what each person puts on display for the public. As a distant observer, you cannot get to the roots of the stories that people portray, not by a single gaze. Only by being invited to walk in and interact with each other, you might be closer to understanding people’s identity. This lesson was the result of a ramble over Dutch windows; nevertheless, it was particularly significant at the beginning of my UWC experience as I met people from places I had never heard of, and it has remained as a memorable thing to consider when acquainting new individuals.
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