To Abhilash Menon, it seemed like a scene from a science fiction movie. It was 19:00 in the evening, but the streets of Enschede were completely deserted.
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For a PhD student who grew up in the hustle and bustle of Bombay, the contrast couldn’t have been more unsettling. Menon had prepared himself thoroughly for Dutch society: red light districts, liberal drug and euthanasia policies and freezing cold (“you live relatively close to the Northern Pole, after all.”). But this time he was genuinely shocked. Where had all the people gone?
Say what you will about the shocks and surprises of living in the Netherlands as a foreign Ph.D. student – at least it makes for an amusing conversation topic. Or a hilarious PowerPoint presentation, for that matter: when chemical engineer Abhilash Menon shared some of his experiences with other Ph.D. students during a lunch presentation on the weighty subject of internationalisation, there were chuckles all round. Menon couldn’t always suppress a laugh himself, but he nearly always managed to graciously point out the positive side of the strange ways of the Dutch. Just two examples: the Dutch aversion to receiving people who hadn’t made a proper ‘afspraak’ (meeting) forced him to be a little bit more self-organized. And the fact that all the documents he had to fill out upon arrival at Schiphol were written in Dutch only was, besides being a nasty shock, a great stimulus to work on his language skills!
Still, the correct, guttural pronunciation of ‘Scheveningen’ still alluded him, as he was fully prepared to demonstrate. And more importantly: “I don’t know if all you guys agree, but I miss
cricket desperately.” Ah, yes – the one South African PhD. student in the audience felt his pain.
Still, despite Menon’s light-hearted tone, living in the Netherlands as a PhD student isn’t without its downside. Trying to build a new life here isn’t easy when basic necessities such as housing, medical care and relocating your loved ones to Holland turn out to be a real problem.
Often, students have to struggle their way through long waiting lists and red tape.
Irony
The number of PhD students from abroad in Delft has grown to about 60 percent. Clearly, these highly motivated students have to make up for the diminishing interest among Dutch students for pursuing PhD degrees. Yet, foreigner students must suffer the consequences of a general climate in the Netherlands that is becoming less and less hospitable to foreigners. It’s an irony which isn’t lost on them. “It takes PhD students six to nine months of red tape to bring their husbands or wives over here,” acknowledges Paul Althuis, director of Cicat. “And that’s when you’re lucky. With kids, it’s even more difficult.” As a result, some foreign students decide to return home. CICAT is the central liaison office of the TU Delft providing its faculties and departments with managementsupport in the field of development cooperation activities.
The Dutch don’t seem particularly pleased to welcome these new foreigners, no matter how well-educated and open-minded they are. To Althuis, this seems short-sighted. “We should be glad to have so many foreign students. The PhD student of today is the useful contact of tomorrow. The Dutch knowledge economy needs these academic networks across the world. I even think TU Delft shouldn’t concentrate on only a handful of ‘top’ universities.”
Fortunately, TU Delft can make life a little easier for the students. Althuis urges the university to improve the housing
situation for PhD students – Menon had to leave his first apartment in Delft after only one year, and describes the housing
system as a labyrinth, where good contacts and a bit of luck are the only true guarantees of success. And here’s another very practical proposal: the appointment by the university of a physician who has the ability to recognize some medical complaints for what they really are: the psychosomatic consequence of trying to adopt to a very different culture. Althuis: “Abhilash had the advantages of already having lived in Holland for two years before he came to Delft to get his PhD, and he’s fluent in English. Some students need more monitoring and
supervision, preferably at faculty level.”
All of which prompts the question: how many PhD students from countries like China, India, Indonesia are actually studying in Delft? The slightly embarrassing answer is that nobody really knows: the information is scattered across the faculties. “We absolutely need a central database,” Althuis says. That’s one thing Cicat and the association of PhD researchers in Delft, Promood, heartily agree on.
Meanwhile, Abhilash Menon is kind of looking forward to eating that notorious traditional Dutch winter dish, stamppot. “I still miss my Mom’s food, though,” he says.
To Abhilash Menon, it seemed like a scene from a science fiction movie. It was 19:00 in the evening, but the streets of Enschede were completely deserted.
For a PhD student who grew up in the hustle and bustle of Bombay, the contrast couldn’t have been more unsettling. Menon had prepared himself thoroughly for Dutch society: red light districts, liberal drug and euthanasia policies and freezing cold (“you live relatively close to the Northern Pole, after all.”). But this time he was genuinely shocked. Where had all the people gone?
Say what you will about the shocks and surprises of living in the Netherlands as a foreign Ph.D. student – at least it makes for an amusing conversation topic. Or a hilarious PowerPoint presentation, for that matter: when chemical engineer Abhilash Menon shared some of his experiences with other Ph.D. students during a lunch presentation on the weighty subject of internationalisation, there were chuckles all round. Menon couldn’t always suppress a laugh himself, but he nearly always managed to graciously point out the positive side of the strange ways of the Dutch. Just two examples: the Dutch aversion to receiving people who hadn’t made a proper ‘afspraak’ (meeting) forced him to be a little bit more self-organized. And the fact that all the documents he had to fill out upon arrival at Schiphol were written in Dutch only was, besides being a nasty shock, a great stimulus to work on his language skills!
Still, the correct, guttural pronunciation of ‘Scheveningen’ still alluded him, as he was fully prepared to demonstrate. And more importantly: “I don’t know if all you guys agree, but I miss
cricket desperately.” Ah, yes – the one South African PhD. student in the audience felt his pain.
Still, despite Menon’s light-hearted tone, living in the Netherlands as a PhD student isn’t without its downside. Trying to build a new life here isn’t easy when basic necessities such as housing, medical care and relocating your loved ones to Holland turn out to be a real problem.
Often, students have to struggle their way through long waiting lists and red tape.
Irony
The number of PhD students from abroad in Delft has grown to about 60 percent. Clearly, these highly motivated students have to make up for the diminishing interest among Dutch students for pursuing PhD degrees. Yet, foreigner students must suffer the consequences of a general climate in the Netherlands that is becoming less and less hospitable to foreigners. It’s an irony which isn’t lost on them. “It takes PhD students six to nine months of red tape to bring their husbands or wives over here,” acknowledges Paul Althuis, director of Cicat. “And that’s when you’re lucky. With kids, it’s even more difficult.” As a result, some foreign students decide to return home. CICAT is the central liaison office of the TU Delft providing its faculties and departments with managementsupport in the field of development cooperation activities.
The Dutch don’t seem particularly pleased to welcome these new foreigners, no matter how well-educated and open-minded they are. To Althuis, this seems short-sighted. “We should be glad to have so many foreign students. The PhD student of today is the useful contact of tomorrow. The Dutch knowledge economy needs these academic networks across the world. I even think TU Delft shouldn’t concentrate on only a handful of ‘top’ universities.”
Fortunately, TU Delft can make life a little easier for the students. Althuis urges the university to improve the housing
situation for PhD students – Menon had to leave his first apartment in Delft after only one year, and describes the housing
system as a labyrinth, where good contacts and a bit of luck are the only true guarantees of success. And here’s another very practical proposal: the appointment by the university of a physician who has the ability to recognize some medical complaints for what they really are: the psychosomatic consequence of trying to adopt to a very different culture. Althuis: “Abhilash had the advantages of already having lived in Holland for two years before he came to Delft to get his PhD, and he’s fluent in English. Some students need more monitoring and
supervision, preferably at faculty level.”
All of which prompts the question: how many PhD students from countries like China, India, Indonesia are actually studying in Delft? The slightly embarrassing answer is that nobody really knows: the information is scattered across the faculties. “We absolutely need a central database,” Althuis says. That’s one thing Cicat and the association of PhD researchers in Delft, Promood, heartily agree on.
Meanwhile, Abhilash Menon is kind of looking forward to eating that notorious traditional Dutch winter dish, stamppot. “I still miss my Mom’s food, though,” he says.

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