Hans and Greta seemed like perfect tenants—kind, responsible, and full of fascinating stories from their life in the Netherlands. But their sudden departure left me wondering what they were hiding.
I met Hans and Greta on a rainy Tuesday. The apartment was in rough shape due to a water leak. The previous tenant had ripped out the flooring to prevent mold and then moved out.
Hans and Greta weren’t fazed by the bare concrete floors. They offered to install new flooring themselves, and I agreed to cover the cost of materials and reduce their rent.
Over the next year, they proved to be ideal tenants—rent always on time, the apartment spotless, and frequent invitations for tea. They regaled me with stories from the Netherlands.
But near the end of their lease, they started acting strange. They stopped inviting me in, and I noticed them packing hurriedly. Then one day, they handed me the keys and left abruptly.
Confused, I called a landlord friend, Sam, who suggested I check the apartment for anything unusual. To my shock, I found the laminate flooring gone, leaving only bare concrete again.
I texted Hans, asking about the flooring. His reply was surprising:
“Oh dear, we are so sorry for the confusion! In the Netherlands, it is customary to take the floor with you when you move out. We assumed it was the same there. We rushed because our granddaughter had an emergency birth and needed our help.”
I was incredulous but amused. Despite the odd situation, I decided not to hold a grudge. They had been good tenants, and their departure was due to a cultural misunderstanding.
I got the flooring replaced and moved on, but I often thought of Hans and Greta fondly. One day, I received a letter from them, inviting me to visit the Netherlands.
Their quirks and kindness made me appreciate the richness of human experience. I eventually planned a trip to the Netherlands, eager to reconnect and see their beautiful country.
Hans and Greta’s story reminded me of the beauty of cultural differences and the unexpected bonds we form.
