Confusing the Dutch with My Accent

I have a very English accent when I speak Dutch. I can’t help it. I’ve tried faking a Dutch accent but somehow that only makes things sound worse and less like Dutch. So I stick with my natural accent (more or less) when speaking Dutch. 

With the addition of my general language mistakes this means my pronunciation of most Dutch words falls somewhere within the range of ‘slightly off’ to ‘completely wrong’. Sometimes I’ll visit both ends of the spectrum within a single sentence.

Misplaced Accent

Sometimes this makes it very difficult for the Dutch to work out where I am from. It is true that they are often able to narrow my accent down to somewhere within the United Kingdom. However, their final guess ends up being over seven hundred kilometers off. Strangely most of them make the same incorrect guess too. Most of them think I’m Scottish.

In truth, I suspect a big part of this mistake is not actually because of my accent. Sure, it helps them narrow it down to one island but I suspect they, or at least some of them, think I am Scottish because I have ginger hair. 

This mistake has been made so often that it’s possible some Dutch people believe that ginger is a hair colour that only accrues naturally in the highlands. 

I think these people are unaware that the fastest way to upset a Scottish person is to call them English or, in this case, call an Englishman Scottish. I do have Scottish ancestors but that does not really count. Plus I’ve only been to Scotland once.

All of this is a way of saying that I am very used to Dutch people wrongly identifying me as Scottish (and once as Irish). Which is why I was very surprised when, last month, I was wrongly identified as being from somewhere else entirely.

You Think I’m From Where?

My wife and I were on our way to South Germany with our children. We’d already traveled down from Friesland to Limburg. We were about half an hour away from crossing the border into Belgium for the next part of the drive but first we needed to get some petrol. Luckily we’d just found a petrol station along a relatively quiet country road on top of one of the Netherland’s few hills. The view was amazing, especially since it had been so long since we’d seen such a view.

Pulling myself away from the impressive scene I filled up the car and then popped into the gas station to pay.

“Hallo. Pomp twee, graag” I said politely to the man behind the counter, letting him know which pump I’d just used.

During the simple transaction that followed there was a growing look of confusion on the man’s face. My way of speaking Dutch does that to people as I’ve mentioned.

“Waar is de WC?” I asked once the petrol was paid for, my English accent muddling the edges of even this simple question.

There was a short awkward pause. The look on the man’s face suggested that he was still busy trying to place my accent. It’s a look that’s very similar to the pained reaction of hearing someone mishandle your language in inappropriate ways.

He suddenly seemed to realize I’d asked a question, filed away his confusion for later and pointed around the corner to a door that had been out of sight at first. I thanked him and entered.

I returned a short while later and grabbed a few snacks for the rest of the trip. It was as I paid for them that he asked the question that he’d obviously been building up to. It was not one that I had been expecting.

“Kom je uit België?”

In case you can’t read Dutch he basically asked, “Are you from Belgium?” He thought I was Belgian.

This was a new one and it completely took me by surprise. It didn’t really fit with the pattern of Dutch people mistaking me for being Scottish. I’m not even sure if ginger is a common hair colour in Belgium.

His question seemed like it was either a huge compliment to me or it showed that he did not think very highly of people from Belgium. By this I mean he either thought:

1. My Dutch was still a little off but it was good enough to make him think I was a native speaker from another country or…
2. My Dutch was terrible, just like those people from Belgium who claim to speak Dutch.

That or I was somehow giving off a Belgian vibe (whatever that might be).

“Nee. Ik ben Engels,” I told him.

“Oh,” he replied in what was either surprise or mild disappointment. Either way he wished me a fine day (in Dutch). I returned the sentiment and went back to the car.

When I told my wife (who is a real Dutch person) the story she laughed. 

“There is no way you sound like a Belgian person. They speak really softly and that is not you at all.”

Even with this in mind I guess it was not too weird that the man might have thought I was from Belgium. We were near the country’s border after all. He was probably used to Belgian people stopping by for petrol and to use his toilet. Normally it might have been a safe bet that a slightly different sounding Dutch accent equaled a Belgian person. Maybe he would think twice about that assumption now.

Then again…

I found the whole thing amusing because in the whole nineteen years that I’ve been living in the Netherlands no one has ever thought I was from Belgium. This was a rare one-off occurrence within all those years…

At least it was until two weeks later when someone nonchalantly said almost exactly the same thing, not just about me but my whole family, while we were in the Efteling, as if it was fact. 

“It must be a long way here for you all since you’re from Belgium.”

I guess we were giving off a Belgian vibe. That or there are a lot of ginger people from Belgium too.