When a Country Is No Longer Your Future — Leaving the Netherlands After 11 Years

I didn’t stop writing because nothing happened.
I stopped because everything did.

Last summer, after more than eleven years, we decided to leave the Netherlands.
Not suddenly. Not dramatically. And not because the country failed us.

Eleven years isn’t a single decision — it’s a process.
A place slowly becomes part of you. Your habits. Your thinking. Your sense of normal.

When people ask where I’m from, I still answer the same way: I’m Hungarian. I’m from Budapest.
But right after that, something else always follows.
I also came from the Netherlands.

Living abroad is never a fixed state. It’s not a phase you complete.
It’s a constant adjustment — and over time, the fit can change.

For us, the shift wasn’t about one big problem.
It was about many small things adding up.

Housing became harder.
The cost of living kept rising.
It started to feel like the more you earn, the more disappears — while everyday life requires more calculation than it used to.

Healthcare was another quiet tension.
Access felt limited. Options were narrow.
Over time, I noticed that for certain things, I still travelled elsewhere just to feel properly taken care of — especially once we had a child.

And then there was daily family life.

Everything felt expensive. Activities, services, even small plans.
We found ourselves repeating the same few routines, not because we lacked imagination, but because everything else required careful budgeting.

I grew up in a culture where children are taken everywhere.
Where life happens outside.
Where sitting down somewhere to eat, or doing something spontaneous, is part of everyday rhythm.

In the Netherlands, that rhythm felt harder to sustain with a family — especially if you earn “well”, but not exceptionally.
Support disappears. Costs remain.

Childcare and early education added another layer.
Not just in price, but in space, flexibility, and variety.
And looking ahead, the school system felt strict in ways that made international family life more complicated than it needed to be.

Work culture played its part too.

My husband worked in healthcare, and patients loved him for his empathy and personal approach.
But over time, it became clear how strongly efficiency and profit shape many clinical environments — often at the expense of time, depth, and human connection.

None of this alone would make someone leave a country.
But together, it started to feel like the framework no longer matched the life we were building.

So why Italy?

Partly because it’s already a form of home for one of us.
And partly because, at this stage of our lives, it offers a different balance: less regulation, a slower rhythm, lower everyday costs, and a more family-centred culture.

That doesn’t make it perfect.
Italy is complex. Regional. Uneven.
What works for us wouldn’t work for everyone.

And the Netherlands?
It gave us a lot.

When we were younger — child-free, ambitious, focused on work — it was exactly the right place to be.
Amsterdam was exciting. Life felt open. The system energising.

But that phase passed.
And with it, the kind of country that made the most sense changed too.

This isn’t a conclusion.
Just a moment of noticing that sometimes, a place doesn’t stop being good — it simply stops being your future.

💌 Let’s stay connected — subscribe to Ciao Mama Codes for:

• Personal stories about motherhood and work-life across countries.
• Real-world tips for tech, creativity, and digital living.
• A behind-the-scenes look at balancing business, family, and life abroad.

Want to join the conversation?
If you’re a site member, use the Member Discussion box.
Not a member yet? Jump into the Public Discussion below (Disqus — open to everyone).

Be kind, be curious, and feel free to share where you’re reading from — I love meeting people across borders. 🌍

— Veronika