Markus Anecdotes-Rain, Cheese, and Kopi Dreams: A Tale of Two Small Countries

Written by Markus, with photos by Markus

Rain, Cheese, and Kopi Dreams: A Tale of Two Small Countries

Singapore and the Netherlands have one thing in common: both are tiny dots on the world map that somehow manage to punch above their weight. Singapore is a tropical island with one of the busiest ports in the world, while the Netherlands is a country that quite literally keeps the sea out with walls of sand and stone. One thrives on humidity, the other on windmills. One’s national icon is the Merlion, half fish, half lion. The other has cows, clogs, and tulips.

But put them side by side and the differences come alive in ways that can be hilariously striking. And you don’t need to cover every cultural detail to see it — just look at two simple things: weather and food.

Talking About the Weather… Like a True Dutch

If you’ve ever visited the Netherlands, you’ll quickly discover that the most popular conversation starter isn’t politics, football, or even the king — it’s the weather. Dutch people discuss the weather the way Singaporeans discuss hawker food: constantly, passionately, and with the feeling that it really matters.

There’s a reason. Dutch weather is unpredictable, like a toddler with a mood swing problem. One moment the sun is shining over the canals of Amsterdam, casting golden reflections on the water. The next, you’re caught in a sideways rainstorm so strong it splashes onto your phone screen. Five minutes later, the wind whips across the Oosterschelde or the dykes of Zeeland, and suddenly your umbrella is useless.

The daily ritual is this: check the Buienradar app before leaving home. Then, halfway through your bike ride along a cobbled street in Utrecht, mutter that the app lied again as you pedal furiously through gusts of wind. Imagine if Singaporeans had an app telling them whether the 3 p.m. Orchard Road downpour would hit on time — and then it gave the wrong answer three days out of four. By the second week, the app would be roasted on HardwareZone forums and deleted from every phone.

Rain or Shine, Dutch Bikes Keep Rolling

Cycling is the lifeblood of Dutch life. Rain, wind, even hail — none of it stops the Dutch. They hop on their omafiets (grandma bike), strap their kids in bakfietsen (cargo bikes), balance grocery bags on the handlebars, and pedal off as if horizontal rain is just “a bit of drizzle.”

Now, picture this: imagine if Singaporeans swapped their cars and MRT rides for bicycles, and then tried cycling along the PIE during a tropical thunderstorm. The honking alone would be heard in Johor. Add in the humidity, and you’d have a national crisis of sweaty shirts and ruined hairdos.

Dutch cyclists, though, are like stunt performers. They’ve mastered riding while holding an umbrella, balancing shopping bags, texting — all at once. In Utrecht or Haarlem, you’ll see cyclists weaving through narrow streets with flower boxes on their bikes and toddlers peeking from child seats, while the rain pelts down. To a newcomer, it looks insane. To the Dutch, it’s Tuesday.

And the bikes themselves deserve mention. They’re not sleek racing models. They’re heavy, sturdy machines with baskets, child seats, and sometimes even a cargo box big enough to fit two kids, a dog, and the weekly groceries from Albert Heijn. Imagine if Grab in Singapore had a “bakfiets option” — instead of a Toyota, someone shows up at your HDB void deck on a cargo bike, ready to ferry you, your cousin, and a durian home.

Lunch, Dutch Style: Bread, Cheese, and… Sprinkles?

If weather dominates Dutch small talk, food dominates Singaporean small talk. The first question after “hello” is often “eat already?” Food isn’t just sustenance — it’s national pride, creative expression, and social glue. Singaporeans will happily travel across the island for the “best” bak chor mee or queue half an hour for their favourite chicken rice.

In the Netherlands, lunchtime looks a little different. It usually involves… bread. Just bread. Maybe some cheese. Sometimes ham. If the Dutch feel adventurous, they might add chocolate sprinkles (hagelslag) on top of buttered bread. Yes, sprinkles. For lunch.

Supermarkets like Albert Heijn or Jumbo dedicate entire aisles to different types of bread and spreads. Dutch children can name ten varieties of hagelslag by age six.

Imagine walking into Maxwell Food Centre, looking for nasi lemak or laksa, and instead finding every stall selling the same white bread with cheddar slices. The collective outrage would be deafening. But for the Dutch, it’s comfort food. Hagelslag is as ordinary as kaya toast in Singapore.

Early Dinners, Late Nights: The Timing Difference

Another big difference: timing. In the Netherlands, dinner is often served at 6 p.m. sharp. Families gather early, eat early, and wind down early. Restaurants close their kitchens by 9 or 10 p.m. Miss that window, and your options are limited to fries or a kroket from FEBO’s automatiek.

Singapore, meanwhile, thrives after dark for some (for others it's the last order at 930pm, thus the need to stock up and cook a late night dinner or supper if one is working pretty late or watching a late night movie to live shows). Midnight hunger isn’t an inconvenience; it’s an opportunity. There are prata shops that stay open 24/7, dim sum places where bamboo baskets clatter at 1 a.m., frog porridge stalls that only get crowded after midnight.

Imagine if the Dutch adopted this. Picture Dutch teenagers sitting by a canal at 2 a.m., tearing into sambal stingray and slurping Milo dinosaur. Or imagine Singapore adopting Dutch habits: hawker centres shutting down at 9 sharp, leaving late-night wanderers to nibble on supermarket bread. There would be riots.

Kopi or Koffie? The Simple (and Confusing) Truth

Coffee is another cultural comedy. In Singapore, kopi comes in a dizzying array of permutations: kopi-O, kopi-C, kopi peng, kopi siew dai, kopi kosong, and so on. Ordering is practically a language exam.

In the Netherlands, there’s just koffie. Black. Or with milk. That’s it. Ask for kopi-C peng siew dai and you’ll probably get silence, followed by a polite, confused smile.

Then there’s the coffeeshop mix-up. In Singapore, a coffeeshop is where you find your morning kopi and kaya toast. In Amsterdam, a coffeeshop sells something very different — and it’s not breakfast. Imagine if a Singapore uncle strolled into a coffeeshop at 7 a.m. looking for kopi-O kosong. He’d walk out very awake, but not from caffeine.

Iconic Dishes: Herring vs. Chilli Crab

Every country has its iconic dish. For Singapore, chilli crab is a messy, glorious symbol of spice and celebration. For the Dutch, it’s raw herring. The tradition is to hold the slippery fish by the tail, tilt your head back, and lower it into your mouth whole.

For outsiders, the first bite of raw herring can be startling. It’s salty, slippery, and unapologetically fishy. To Dutch people, it’s delicious and deeply nostalgic. Vendors at herring stalls in Scheveningen or near Amsterdam Centraal take pride in presenting the fish just right.

And yet, both dishes are cultural mirrors. Chilli crab brings people together around a table, everyone cracking shells and sharing sauce. Herring is often eaten standing at a stall, quick and efficient. Imagine a hawker stall swap for one day: queues of Dutch tourists sweating through chilli crab, while Singaporeans stare suspiciously at rows of silver fish dangling by the tail. Instagram would explode.

How Weather Shapes the Menu

It’s not just tradition that makes Dutch food hearty and simple — it’s the climate. Cold, wet weather calls for warmth and calories. Dishes like stamppot (mashed potatoes with vegetables) or erwtensoep (pea soup so thick your spoon stands upright) make perfect sense when you’re cycling home in the rain at 5°C.

Meanwhile, Singapore’s hot, humid weather calls for spice and refreshment. A steaming bowl of laksa somehow makes sense when sweat is already dripping down your back. Sugarcane juice and iced Milo cool you down, while sambal wakes you up.

Imagine if the two climates swapped. Kopitiams would start serving pea soup in claypots and roti prata with gravies thick enough to patch a wall. Dutch supermarkets would stock ice kacang machines and Milo powder by the ton. Aunties in Holland would be fanning themselves on balconies, wondering how anyone survives without air-conditioning.

The Joy of Contrast: Imagine the Swap

The beauty of these contrasts isn’t in deciding who does it “better.” It’s in realising how much geography and history shape daily life. One country grew up dodging rain clouds and building windmills, the other built a food paradise in the tropics. Both tiny, both unique, both proud.

And just for fun — imagine a week-long lifestyle swap. Singaporeans cycling through sleet with ponchos flapping, eating plain cheese sandwiches at their desks. Dutch families crammed into a hawker centre at midnight, sweating over sambal belachan, trying to figure out what on earth “kopi peng” means.

Now that would be the kind of exchange programme worth signing up for.