Amsterdam Downpour

A typically dreary morning in Amsterdam. Builders are looking for shelter under their scaffolding as Debbie cycles past, looking like she’s just taken part in a wet t-shirt contest.

Builders: Hallo!

Debbie (cheerful): Morning!

Builder: Rain’s looking good…

Debbie does Amsterdam

I've moved home 14 times, ten of which were in London.

I've had my share of difficult, argumentative and even nasty neighbours, some of whom were the reason for moving on. Other reasons included love, work and the availability of the place (I used to be a household guardian). But mostly the people next door. 

At first, it just adds to the immersion in British culture. Having someone retrieve rubbish from the communal bin to put it in front of your door makes you feel like you're in a Small Faces song. You know you should shrug it off when you've got your downstairs neighbour threatening to report you as an illegal immigrant unless you sign a petition against the Portobello Market. But after five years of harrassment, it doesn't really feel like a holiday anymore. That’s when you know it’s either time to move on, or go home. So when I was offered an exciting position at a recruitment agency in Amsterdam, I jumped at the opportunity.

This was almost a year ago, and I can confidently say it was the right decision. My only regret is not having had a chance to blog about the city and it's (hidden) treasures more. Not making any promises though!

Cycling frog

Amsterdam, the old city centre. It´s sunny as I cycle home from work. A father overtakes me. The little girl on the back of his bike wears flowers in her hair and waves a twig at me.

“I’ve got a magic wand,” she says, “and I’m turning you into a frog!”

And just like that, she turns me into a frog – a cycling frog at that! 

“Croak!” I say.

“Kwak kwak,” her daddy chimes in.

Enthralled by her success, she aims the wand and magic spell at other passersby. A sloppy student, lovers overlooking the canals, an early drunk an even another child. Nobody croaks.

Unfazed, the flowerchild turns back to me and says: “You’re a princess now.”

And such is life, I guess. You can’t even count on who you are.