Amsterdam

​Do you find yourself sick and tired of doing your work cooped up in your room or in that standard café that is cheap enough for your budget? Am I the only one who would like to sit with their laptop outside in fresh air with a cigarette (or something stronger) to get their creative juices flowing? I understand that was a very cheesy line I just spat, but the first-world struggle is real, okay? I tried this in London and looked like a right twat. Who writes in their notepad in the park? You're basically looking for people approaching with questions. I don't know about you, but I get some either judgmental or overly curious glances in my direction – this stuff usually happens in cafés or the office, maybe your own room. And I'm guilty of shooting those curious glances, but that's because I'm wondering if I can do that myself, if I see someone working out or attending a Zoom meeting on the bench, placing colourful beads on elastic wire.

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I came to Amsterdam and, after exploring these streets for like a day, I decided to stop into one of its infamous coffee shops. I didn't have time to roll one so I bought a pre-roll and, walking down the street to meet my mum in an art shop, no one batted an eyelid as I chuffed like a chimney, strolling along. Don't get me wrong, people aren't particularly bothered about this stuff in London, but there's no one else around me that is doing the same stuff as me, you know? There might be some sitting on a bench having a few beers but even reading is quite rare in London.

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The world is your oyster in Amsterdam, just as long as you can deal with the notoriously steep stairs and notoriously expensive pints of Heineken. The quietness can come as a blessing or a curse, depending on whether you are walking back home or night or expecting to face a plethora of professional opportunities. You can probably guess which one's which. But I tell you, you don't have to have a pint of Heineken and, to be honest, you'll probably be able to make decisions quicker, job-wise, it's all good, I know I could benefit from having fewer options. It's so difficult to be bothered by these very minor inconveniences when locals are still going to be pleasantly friendly with you and will be more than happy to engage in conversation with you. Just because someone is quiet, doesn't mean they are uninteresting or will be inconvenient.

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I have a certain dream of my perfect day: wake up in the morning with a coffee, go for a run, then have a morning joint in my local coffee shop and set myself up for the day with work planning and meal planning, maybe some journalling, too. My afternoon would consist of writing on whatever project I have going on and to change up routine, I would dance or act in class or whatever other project I might have. The London dream is the promise of a secure and fulfilling life, with hard work put in. My dream has now changed: it's no longer about accepting the fact that my art will be scrutinised and there are sometimes people walking around with machetes; it's now about being free to do the art I need to do and being able to walk myself home at night as well. I appreciate the Netherlands, they deserve a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. I know understand Nothing But Thieves when they say, 'I left my heart in Amsterdam', because it really is what I feel right now.

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But then again, I am a clueless tourist who has spent just 3 days in the city, wandering around with rose-tinted glasses on. The grass is greener on this side (pun not intended) so I'm suspicious that there is another, less green side of such a beautiful city. And after about 2 minutes of research, I quickly learnt about the housing crisis, which comes to no surprise. It's not ideal, and it would be difficult to live in Amsterdam, but I come from London, the king of the housing crisis so if I can afford £900 for a room, I can afford one in almost any European city… a whole apartment cannot even be considered.

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But can you imagine that? Stepping out of your front door and down the little stairs that are embellished with little potted plants and vines, taking your bike and pushing off along the water towards the nearest coffee shop. You glide past tall Dutch terraces, blue, green, red and grey scrolling across your eyes. And to your right is a small canal, consistent in colour and only interrupted by the small bridges with tourists and dog walkers alike wandering over. To change up your direction, you join the crowd and ride over the bump, taking in the view of the sun on the water, surrounded by baskets of flowers and decorative Dutch roofs. With a deep, relaxing breath, you prepare your spirit for a coffee or a tea and a productive day. You are revitalised and determined to get your jobs done. You look forward to your evening off, doing absolutely nothing amidst the realms of the Amsterdam flow, ready to accept where it will take you.