Stuck inside of Groningen with the housing blues

Everyone interested in local news knows about it: hundreds of foreign students do not have a decent room or housing in Groningen. Parties within the council are upset, landlords discriminate against foreigners and boys, students are left to their own devices camping in Stadspark. How are the foreign students managing?

The place looks deserted. The glass doors of the abandoned refugee asylum at the Van Swietenlaan reveal a grimy reception. A whiteboard with a message is the only thing that draws attention: ‘Internet will be fixed soon’. We knock on one of the windows on the ground floor and a German student peeks his head out of the window. ‘Would you mind answering some questions about the housing problem among foreign students?’ I ask. ‘No’, is his polite but determined answer. He appears a little tired. Probably from a couple of stressful weeks of searching. We proceed to knock on windows, but we get zero response. The rooms are hidden behind improvised curtains: sheets; bath towels; a Dutch flag, just as lost as the occupant who put it up there. A small glimpse of a room reveals itself, looks more like a storage box than an actual space to live in. The sight reminds me of the squats where I used to hang out where everything was dirty and broken. Where the squatters would only do the minimum effort to make the place comfortable. Because, you never know when you get kicked out, so every investment is a risk.

I leave in the morning for the library and try to get all my work done there

When walking around the perimeter of the building, we find some students outside a side exit. Two girls are on the phone, chattering in Spanish or Italian. A guy smokes a cigarette, wearing a camping tuxedo: jogging pants, flipflops, an old sweater. Checking his phone occasionally. He tells us that he is trying to download some documents using the Wi-Fi network of the Martini Ziekenhuis, their neighbours from across the street. ‘So, how’s the study coming?’ I ask him. ‘Well, I leave in the morning for the library and try to get all my work done there. If I can’t, I download all documents and lectures, so I can do something here as well. It’s not really convenient, especially if you need to look stuff up. They promised the internet would be fixed, but nobody knows when.’ A girls walks by and greets him. After we get acquainted and explain our motive, she agrees on giving us a tour of the building.

When we asked the guide if we could cook there, he pointed to a small electrical stove, just one, for sixty people

We go down a shabby hallway, lit by the hard, fluorescent light of the tubes. The hallway leads to the reception, where by now a couple of students are playing cards. None of them wants their picture taken, nobody is eager to tell us about the hunt for rooms. I cannot really determine if they are just tired after a long day of studying or annoyed by yet another nosy journalist. In the short conversations everybody rattles up the same list: The Budget Hotel, where you share a ‘room’ with 20 others and sleep on stretchers, the Simplon Hostel, where things are a little better. A deserted storage building outside of town, where you can rent a spot for fifteen euros a night, but then you have to buy a bed somewhere in the city and see that it gets there. One guy tells us how he ran into some refugees in the storage house. ‘Apparently they lived there, but nobody informed either them or us, so we were all very surprised. There was no shower, no laundry room, no refrigerator. When we asked the guide if we could cook there, he pointed to a small electrical stove, just one, for sixty people… Can you believe that?’  When nothing else works, students end up camping in the city park. Some have the ‘luxury’ of a borrowed camper from mom and dad, but others have no other option but to seek for shelter in wooden shacks. Welcome to Groningen…

Back at the Van Swietenlaan, cooking isn’t really possible either. But the hundred students who live here consider themselves ‘the lucky ones’. It’s cheaper than Simplon Hostel, you have more privacy and there are enough laundry machines. In another empty hall with only a big table and chairs a group of students is worried about the expiration date of the current contract. It’s due the first of November, but they are somewhat optimistic the university can prolong the contract with the owner of the building. An Italian boy, preparing his percolator, says loudly ‘Not me! I am not leaving. If they are to kick us out, I will squat this building, barricade the doors and windows.’ The others laugh, but his eyes display a serious determination.

You can’t admit 2000 students without arranging any housing, without giving any support

‘This situation seriously harms the reputation of the university as well,’ a girl tells me. ‘Right now, Groningen is high up in the international ranks, but when we go home and tell others about our experiences, it will have a negative effect. I think they should consider that too, you know. If you want to be prestigious, you have to live up to it. You can’t admit 2000 students without arranging any housing, without giving any support. They refer to this website, Kamernet.nl, but over half of the rooms advertised there are ‘Dutch only’. I suppose it’s the Dutch culture to take care of your own business, but you can’t really expect that from foreign students. Especially if they don’t speak the language or only study here for one or two semesters.’ Stories like this keep piling up. IF students are lucky enough to find a room, they often end up in a catch-22: to register for a room, you need a Dutch social security number (BSN) and to obtain a BSN you need a postal address… Some landlords provide a temporary contract so the student can make the necessary arrangements, but it often leaves the student confused and empty-handed.

At the Simplon Hostel, later that evening, we run into some guys sitting outside talking. It occurs to me the boys are in the majority. A German student explains to me girls are preferred oftentimes. ‘There are a lot of advertisements online, but most are ‘Dutch only’ or ‘girls only’. Which is weird, because those all-girl houses are among the dirtiest I’ve visited.’ He grins. A guy from the UK tells us: ‘Things can change really quickly, one of our room-searching friends here woke up this morning. He was called in the afternoon and now he’s moved out already. It doesn’t mean you have the place to yourself though, because everyone invites their mates to sleep on the couch or floor. This city is expensive, you know?’ The others nod in agreement.

So, you had a one night stand I assume, knowing the beds are good?

What started out as an adventure, slowly turns into a financial nightmare. One place may be a little cheaper than the other, on average a student forced to stay in hostels or improvised dormitories pays over 500 euros a month. Wherever you go, it is the housing blues all over again. On top of that there are high costs of living. Since they cannot really store any food or drinks, students buy microwave meals and pre-made sandwiches mostly. An expenditure of another 500 euros a month. Despite all of this, the guys outside Simplon Hostel are upbeat. They may have no other option but to accept their fate for the time being and hope for something better. ‘Have you guys been to the Student Hotel?’ I ask them. ‘Yeah just once, the beds are comfortable,’ the German replies. ‘So, you had a one night stand I assume, knowing the beds are good?’ He cracks a little smile, admitting guilt. ‘The Student Hotel is bourgeois,’ someone else says. ‘Those rooms cost a fortune, it’s for the rich kids.’ It’s getting late, so we exchange some phone numbers and then we split.

On the street corner the wind blows sounds of relaxed conversation our way. The students in front of the Student Hotel seem the most at ease of all the people we’ve seen tonight. Not a care in the world. We want a last drink and use the restrooms. The lobby is warm and comfortable. Inside there are four girls sipping cocktails and giggling softly. The toilets are nice and clean. A posters advertises ‘happy laundry hour’, for only two euros. ‘Because the Student Hotel loves you’.

I realise almost every homeless person in Groningen has a postal address to receive mail and collect a welfare cheque

It’s a far cry from the Van Swietenlaan. People mind their own business and we go unnoticed. Unfortunately the bar is already closed. During the bike ride back to our homes, we discuss the similarities between the students and squatters and the homeless hobos, who are an integrated part of the city’s image. I realise almost every homeless person in Groningen has a postal address to receive mail and collect a welfare cheque. Back home I research the website of the city council to see if a postal address can be acquired easily. I text some screenshots and an explanation to a phone number I collected earlier. He texts back: ‘Thanks a lot man! I will share this with my mates for sure.’ Being stuck inside of Groningen with the housing blues may not get you the study results you were hoping to achieve, however it does create solidarity and friendship. And that counts for something, too.

Photos: Niels Punter