Learning independence in the Netherlands

When I travelled short distances back home in India, things were simple. If I wanted to take a train, I would go to the station and buy a ticket from the counter. If it were a bus, I wouldn’t even think about tickets. The conductor would come inside the bus, ask where I was going, I would pay in cash, receive a ticket, and sit down. When I moved to the Netherlands in 2024, that story changed completely.

Automated services in the Netherlands

Here, everything revolves around the OV-chipkaart. You check in. You check out. There is no counter, no conductor, and no one reminding you what to do. At first, it felt strange and a little lonely.

I missed the human interaction. A few times, I forgot to check out and later received emails asking me to correct the journey or accept the deduction. Since the OV system is directly linked to your bank account, mistakes become very real, very quickly. Eventually, I understood something important. The system wasn’t unfriendly. It was teaching me responsibility. No one was going to fix things for me. I had to pay attention. I had to remember. This was independence in practice, not just in theory.

From “Papa will drop you off” to riding on my own 

During my college days, my father often dropped me off at the bus stop so I could catch my university bus on time. He would also pick me up afterwards, and it was normal and comfortable for me, with no questions asked. Now that my father is back in India, I miss him deeply. But the dependency is reduced. Now, I walk to the station or cycle everywhere on my own. Rain, wind, cold, snow, I still go without waiting for the perfect conditions. Cycling has changed something in me.

Riding on the red bike paths, with my thoughts moving faster than my legs, my anxiety slowly dissolves. I feel grounded and capable. I don’t depend on anyone else’s schedule. I can leave when I want and return when I want. That quiet freedom builds confidence without announcing itself.

Supermarkets and doing everything yourself 

Shopping back home was easy. I handed a list to the shop assistant. They collected everything, packed it, and sometimes even helped load it onto a scooter or car. I paid and left. Here, with no car or scooter, my early grocery trips were exhausting. Heavy plastic bags left red marks on my palms. I felt the absence of convenience very sharply. But slowly, I realised something. This was not a struggle unique to me. This is simply how life works here.

So, I learned the system. I picked up a basket, checked prices, compared quality, stood in line (sometimes for a long time), paid without bargaining, and carried my groceries myself. Through this, I learned how food systems work, how much effort goes into everyday consumption, and why services should never be taken for granted. Today, I always carry my own bag, load groceries onto my bike, or walk home slowly with them.

There are moments when I miss the same types of help I had back home. But there is also pride. I know I can manage my own needs.

Tip: Invest in good reusable bags or bicycle bags as soon as possible. They make daily life easier than you expect.

Help exists, but it’s not automatic

One thing I noticed early on is that help exists in the Netherlands, but it is not automatic. You can ask questions, but people expect you to try first. Systems are organised, digitalised, and consumer-friendly, such as train apps that show real-time platforms, supermarket apps that guide you step by step, and almost everything, starting from IKEA, HEMA, to Lidl, pharmacy, PostNL, Cafes, or Government services, is explained on a website if you look for it. The expectation is not explanation, but participation.

At first, this felt uncomfortable as I came from systems where help was automatic. Here, you are given the space. That space can feel like distance, but it also builds confidence. You learn by doing. You learn by making small mistakes and correcting them yourself.

Tip: Help is available, but independence is expected.

Planning becomes a habit

In the Netherlands, when you ask to meet up with someone, they often say, “Let me check my calendar, because every month I have something planned, such as work deadlines, seasonal activities or planned breaks." Every day and month is important to everyone, so everyone is super-duper busy.

Initially, this felt strange. Why plan everything so far in advance? Over time, I realised that planning is not considered rigid here - it is considered respectful. People respect their own time and yours, which reduces unrealistic expectations and quietly encourages you to take responsibility for your own schedule. You also learn to manage your life better. Independence here doesn’t mean spontaneity disappears. It means you are organised enough to stand on your own.

Self-service as a way of life

I have been to some cafes and restaurants where you order at the counter or at a machine, pick up your food yourself, and return the plates when you’re done. There is less dependence on the waiter to take your order and explain what each dish contains, and over time, it has shifted how I see service work and the people behind it.  And this is the best thing I have learnt by staying here. Now, it feels normal. You take responsibility for your experiences. You don’t wait. You don’t expect attention. You do what needs to be done.

Being alone doesn’t mean being lost 

At first, doing everything alone felt isolating. There was no one checking in, no one asking questions, no one stepping in automatically. Over time, I realised something important. Being alone here does not mean being unsupported. It means being trusted; trusted to manage your choices, your time and your life.

That trust slowly changes how you see yourself. You stop feeling abandoned and start feeling capable. When something goes wrong, you don’t panic immediately. You pause, think, and try to fix it yourself first.

The Netherlands did not suddenly make me independent. It happened slowly. Through missed check-outs, awkward moments, getting confused, setting calendars, being late, learning from it, and trying again the next time. Some days felt frustrating. Some days felt like progress. Somewhere in between, I noticed a shift. I was no longer waiting for things to be handled for me.

Here, independence is not announced. It is expected. And without realising it, I stopped waiting for help and started trusting myself instead.