geen nederlands--no dutch

When I learned Swahili, I had teachers all around me . . . students, fellow teachers, the night guard Sandam, friends, neighbors, folks running stores, women at the market, bus conductors, all seemed to delight in my linguistic foibles and enthusiastically encourage further attempts. Many didn't speak much English at all, and as I was alone in Tanzania I needed to learn quickly, so I did. Learning Dutch is dramatically different. The western value of self-sufficiency tends to be the stumbling block--my attempts at Dutch are quickly met with English, probably to be polite and ensure my pride isn't wounded, perhaps also as a point of pride in their own English proficiency. And people are busier here than in Tanzania (though not as busy as at home), more anxious to get to the point. Why indulge someone's poorly accented attempts at Dutch when you speak perfect English? What must it be like to try to learn English in the States? My empathy for immigrants grows as my optimism that I'll learn Dutch wanes. Oh well--perhaps I'll work more on French--Belgium is just a walk or bike ride away.