A Love Letter to Amsterdam
Long Live the Dutch
“Our country is saturated with color… I repeat, our country is not grey, not even in grey weather, nor are the dunes grey.” — Constantin Gabriël
Dear Amsterdam,
When I moved to the Netherlands back in February 2020, I had no opinion of your country besides my loose understanding of great water management and innovative total football. I landed on a cold, rainy day — what I would soon learn is the norm for you — and immediately the wind knocked my hat off and up the street. I chased it down thinking the whole time, “I’m gonna finish my internship and hop on the first plane out of here.” Being a Texan boy from Houston, I had little tolerance for cold, and wasn’t going to let you change my mind. It took no time at all though to realize that you, and the Netherlands as a whole, are an incredibly diverse, active, evolving, exciting and wonderful place to live. Perhaps it was the immediate group of friends you introduced me to, or the first Macumba party you invited me to, but it all felt natural. What started with subtle apprehension slowly turned into a conviction that you were the most livable city I’ve ever visited. The weather is tough though, you have to admit. 40–30 (0C) degrees all through winter, 55 (12C) degrees essentially the rest of the year. And the wind! You never stop with it, I swear biking on your streets is like fighting Poseidon for the last piece of sushi. Sure, my legs are stronger for it, but at what cost?
You know, the first half of my time in the Netherlands was not actually with you at all. I rented a small apartment close to Nike’s HQ in Hilversum, hoping to be an overachiever, but Covid-19 quickly squashed those plans. And even in some of the darkest moments in recent history, you kept me company. Your bike paths were always welcoming, parks always inviting, and coffeeshops always calming. I spent every weekend of 2020 quietly biking Vondelpark and swimming in your canals, wondering how I got so lucky to be here while the rest of the world struggled. And from Monday — Thursday, I wrote my Masters thesis until midnight, with the summer sun lasting just long enough to let me save my work with the last glimpse of sunset. Almost as if you wanted me to finish quicker so I could take the first train to Zandvoort’s beach, or meander through the Rijksmuseum one more time (when it was open). It wasn’t until February 2021 that I finally dropped my Hilversum apartment and moved in with you, and then my eyes really opened.
While I split my time between your streets and Houston’s, you were never far from my mind. I daydreamed about your bike paths and couldn’t help but be jealous of your 60 degrees in July compared to Texas’ 90. And the clearest sign of a great city, or a best friend, is you feel just as comfortable together after months apart than if you had never left at all. Each time I arrived back to Schiphol Airport, I would be hit by a wave of cold air, see the grey clouds outside, and I’d know I was home. I’d train to centraal, then pick up my bike where I’d left it and ride on to my final destination. With covid still wreaking havoc, your downtown was eerily quiet. I caught myself missing the insanity of hundreds of tourists barraging the Red Light District, never knowing what could occur in your winding alleys. Lucky for us, we had a small group of friends who absolutely embraced the moment. Surely you’ve had your fair share of poets and rock stars, but a group of Nike interns really made themselves at home, drinking on docks or cooking at home.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t rap a second about your beautiful bike culture. Biking with you is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Mexico City has got it going on, and London is making it work, but you are truly miles (of bike paths) ahead of the rest of the world. Just this March, I left your city center for the coast and was able to see the North Sea within 2 hours. Not on a single part of the journey was I thrown into a street with cars, or left abandoned on the side of the road with no bike path or sidewalk. In De Pijp or Jordaan, as in the rest of the country, bikers have a special place in your heart. And not just for long exciting bike rides, but even for the simple, mundane ones. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve ridden my bike home at 2am, maybe a bit dazed and confused from the night behind me, I’d be able to buy you… I’d be able to buy you… well, 20 beers at Waterkant. Or how the way Vondelpark is silent at night, with the rows of street lamps lighting the way, never ceases to make me feel at peace. Above all else, you’ve inspired me to fight for more equitable transit in the U.S. You are a shining example of how bikes, buses, trains and trams can be a recipe for a fair city that supports all, not just a few.
Coming from Texas, where it’s always sunny, you give out sunlight like an expensive bottle of wine; only on special occasions. The days when the sun is out in full force though are remarkable. Every color is doubled in strength by the reflection of the canals, and the parks are filled with Amsterdamers desperate for Vitamin D. It feels like a Queen’s birthday, the way people are out celebrating, just for the fact that it’s a warm bright day. Even on the cold days though you provide us with a playground of a city full of life and love.
I love you for your endless world class museums, your top quality Italian pizza, your wandering canals, and your evergreen parks. I’m grateful to you for introducing me to sweet Stefi and for blessing me with incredible friends. I know you’ll do the same for the next generation of young kids moving to your little piece of paradise. Over the past two and a half years we’ve grown a lot together. I started a career in renewable energy here, I met my girlfriend here, I’ve hosted birthdays and friends here. I’m going to miss living with you a lot, but hey, that’s life. I’ll come back to visit, and I’m sure you’ll be a different city when that happens, but I doubt I’ll be the same Joseph either. Let’s just agree to always be welcoming, always be kind, and always be growing. Surely something I don’t need to tell you twice.
Sincerely,
Joseph
