Finding home
A love letter to Amsterdam and to cities that expand us
I moved to Amsterdam on December 5th 2016, or rather I escaped, from Paris to Amsterdam. I was 23 years old and lost in transition: finished my Master’s, quarter life crisis, depression. This move wasn't a carefully premeditated decision where I pondered the pros and cons. I did not have a plan or long term vision, I didn't know what I was looking for exactly. What is wrong with me? Will I be free? What do I actually want and need from life? I was a repressed and depressed control freak therefore a radical transplant seemed right. Fuck you Andjela I'm moving to Amsterdam!
I was living in Amsterdam, the iconic and multicultural city where individual rights and freedoms thrived, the city that has attracted people from various backgrounds throughout History, with around 180 nationalities within its borders. Could I belong here?
Beyond the renowned beauty and charm of Amsterdam, there were two main positive cultural shocks that made me want to stay. The first one was an unprecedented sense of safety. To this day, I have never been catcalled nor harassed by men in this country: not in any city, not in any Amsterdam neighborhood, not on public transportation, not while wearing sexy outfits, daytime, night time. My experience in the city of canals and bicycles has been one where I could (and did) walk carefree at 3 am blasting music in my earphones. This was a revolution for me, especially after living in Paris where walking on the street or taking the subway as a woman felt like playing Russian roulette.
The second factor was that I could now use a bike as my main mode of transportation, which had a direct and positive influence on my social life and mental health. I wasn't stuck underground with other people breathing down my neck anymore. I could forgo the anxious checking of the schedule for the last metro that prevented me from being carefree whenever I went out. In Amsterdam, I could go out and come back home whenever I wanted: I felt free, independent, relaxed and empowered. My energy wasn’t drained by typical urban safety concerns and stressors anymore: this meant more energy for other — more satisfying — pursuits!
Amsterdam is the capital of the Netherlands, but it's not your typical big, overwhelming city. Smaller than Paris and less chaotic than Rome, where I was raised, it caters to bikes and pedestrians and has no dramatic road traffic jams. It has all the entertainment and services that a metropolis provides minus the stress. Never a boring or uneventful week. It's busy but the good kind of busy. The best of both worlds for a sensitive and curious introvert like me.
There is this “before and after Amsterdam” for me. As a third culture person, the questions of identity, belonging and home have always been complicated. And even if navigating these questions is an ongoing process, Amsterdam gave me some answers. This city is where I was able to start healing — where I finally started therapy — and rediscovering myself. Now, I identify as an Amsterdammer. I was not born in Amsterdam, but I was made in Amsterdam.
Being in love with a city doesn't mean that I never complain or that I don't acknowledge the city’s challenges and issues or that other people might have a different experience to mine. To me it means that excitement, curiosity, and possibility are waiting outside my door. It means that even the routine, the familiar, the mundane glimmers with magic, beauty and mystique. Just like in a romantic relationship where I am looking forward to seeing that person, I am looking forward to staycations! And whenever I travel, I look at my return with no incoming feelings of dread. The best indicators that I found the place for me.
There are cities that help us expand or that make us shrink. It is fascinating for me to see how my love for Amsterdam survived the honeymoon phase, break ups, a pandemic and much more. The love has been tested, grown, changed and eventually settled in deep appreciation. After all that Amsterdam has gifted me, I guess it’s only fair that I give back by way of my writing and storytelling.
Living here makes me feel safe, happy, inspired, belonging, grounded, and loved. What else could I need?
Thank you my dear Amsterdam, my only hope is that I can give back to you as much as you gave me.
Andjela Lekovic is a third culture writer based in Amsterdam. She writes about mental health, feminism, dating, and social justice. You can read her rants here.
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