I first arrived in Amsterdam in the very cold and grey month of February. Having left Cape Town in the height of summer, I wasn’t in the frame of mind of layering up with jacket, scarf, gloves and beanie, and absent-mindedly left my mother’s 30-year old hand-made Italian coat on the aeroplane. Needless to say, my first month in Amsterdam, with but a wind-breaker to protect myself from the below-zero temperatures, was a challenging one. However, I was largely numb to the cold (excuse the pun) with the excitement of living in a new city, pumping through my veins.
Now, nearly two years later, whilst walking down the beautiful canals, lined with the charming typically-Dutch buildings, I still get that tingling feeling in my stomach and that voice in my head that says: “this is awesome! I’m living in Amsterdam.”
Three weeks after arriving in Amsterdam, I bought my first bike (I’m now onto my third bike in under two years due to the theft of one and the irreparable damage of the other as a result of wear-and-tear). When one first starts cycling in Amsterdam, you find yourself overwhelmed by the hundreds of other cyclists, the cars, trams, busses and of course often somewhat “intoxicated” tourists. It’s quite a daunting task to take to the busy and unfamiliar streets on a rickety bicycle, feeling extremely vulnerable to all these elements. However, one quickly becomes accustomed and you learn to take advantage of the fact, that in Amsterdam, the cyclist is King…or Queen…depending on your chromosomal make-up.
The Dutch are a hard-core bunch though. Even in the worst of weather, nothing stops them from mounting their trusty bikes – not the gale-force winds, pelting rain, painfully hard hail or heavy snow. I too have become accustomed to biking in all conditions and am used to losing all feeling in my extremities and often looking like a drowned-rat after my 30 minute cycle to and from work. Coming from South Africa, cycling in these conditions feels like a minor victory every time, one that only lasts until you spot a five-year old whooshing past you with the confident air of somebody who has been doing this for a life-time.
What I really love about living in Europe though is how the different seasons dictate the ambiance of the cities. After a long and cold winter, which is punctuated by magical moments such as waking up to silently falling snow or cycling down a deserted, festively-lit street late at night; the ice on the canals slowly starts to melt, the leaves on the trees start to reappear and the city comes to life again with bustling open-terraced cafes, parks filled with people and canals busy with boats.
Today I woke up to the first snow-fall of the season and felt that tingling feeling again – I’m living in Amsterdam!
