It was day one of my dutch language class in Amersterdam. It was a cold winter day at the end of January and I’d biked in the snow to get to class. I thought I almost died several times.
I walked into that little house to greet my professor Bonny. He was a tall six foot six elder fellow who wore a button-down shirt that he’d sewn himself. He smelled of nicotine and had floppy hair. I liked Bonny up until what foundational Dutch that I thought I knew was not actually REAL Dutch. They were phrases that my Omi (grandma) made up. Though, with the way she spoke these words she convinced me they were universal.
For example, the chocolate sprinkles I put on my bread were no called “spickles”. They were hagelslaaf.
The word snoep (snoop) means candy, but the nickname Omi called me was not common tongue. She called me her Snoeperdolletje (snoo-per-dolly-cha). This means verbatim her candy doll. My sister was Poesanalletje (poos-a-nall-it-cha). She was the princess of cats.
Someone who is the weak link sitting in the corner is a “Zeela Peet”. Does this word exist in Dutch? I do not believe so.
Were you at a social gathering and felt ignored. That you didn’t get to bring any of your life to that party. Then you were feeling like “Peet Snot”.
Even though Omi has passed, her language still lives on in our family. I know now this is a secret language. It is not common tongue. It makes it all the more special to me. I have always wanted to invent my own language.