The Dutch and Germans are both famous for being direct. Which is unfortunate, because neither of us thinks the other is doing it correctly. A Dutchman will look at your new haircut and say: “That looked better before.” Not because he dislikes you. Quite the opposite. You asked what he thought, so apparently lying would be terribly rude. Germans have a similar reputation. They can be wonderfully straightforward, precise and completely uninterested in wrapping a simple message in six layers of emotional bubble wrap. But there is a difference. Dutch directness often feels casual, almost cheerful. We will insult your terrible idea while drinking coffee with you, then immediately ask what you're doing this weekend. German directness can feel more structured. If something is wrong, there may be an explanation of exactly why it is wrong, which rule applies, and possibly which DIN standard your stupidity has violated. The British find both of us alarming. Americans sometimes wonder whether we're angry. We aren't. Probably. And I think this is part of why Dutch and Germans understand each other so well. We can tease each other mercilessly, complain about each other's tourists, pronunciation, driving and beer glasses, then cross the border the next morning as if nothing happened. There is something strangely affectionate about two neighbouring cultures that don't constantly need to reassure each other that everything is fine. Sometimes friendship is simply being able to say: “That is a terrible idea.” And hearing: “Ja, probably.”