Not as a student. Not with a suitcase full of books. Just as someone who needed closure.

In Spring 2018, I finally went. Not as a graduate student with a Dutch residence permit, but as a tourist with a warm coat and a backpack. I remember getting off the train in Leiden and taking a deep breath. The air felt different. Not colder. Just… heavy. With memory, with longing. The city was quiet, calm, beautiful in that understated way Dutch cities often are. But to me, it was more than that. It was a version of myself I never got to be.

A street with a certain name that I couldn’t ignore.

The street was why I came. “Sjahrirstraat.” I had searched for it out of curiosity, after my Mom told me about it. And now I was here. I didn’t expect it to be grand or special. And it wasn’t. Just a quiet residential street. But I stood there anyway. And smiled. I took a photo. Just like I had imagined, but different. I wasn’t holding books. I wasn’t running late to class. I was just someone trying to finish a story I had once written in my head. And somehow, being there was enough.

Not every ending needs a title. Sometimes “I went” is closure enough.

I think about it often. How I never got to study in Leiden. How that version of me didn’t happen. But I also think about how lucky I was to still go. To still stand in that city. To still say, “I made it here.” Life doesn’t always say yes. Sometimes it just says, “Not like that.” And that’s okay. Because not all dreams are meant to be fulfilled the way we expect. Sometimes, showing up even for five minutes on a quiet street is the most meaningful kind of success.

Tags in Holland

Van Oranje #1: When the Dream Changed Its Shape, but Not Its Meaning