Trip Notes: Floating In Amsterdam
It was neither hot nor cold, just the right temperature, and the dry air felt pleasant. A short walk would take me to a canal, and bridges appeared everywhere. Looking down from a bridge, lotus leaves spread far across the water, and groups of ducks swam through them. It was beautiful. But from time to time, there was a breeze that carried a smell like dead fish. From the tall trees that rose throughout the city, I could hear a variety of cute bird songs. Just like those birds, the people I passed by were also diverse. People of various races and backgrounds walked quickly past one another—white, Black, Asian, Arab, Jewish, children, the elderly, men, women, and those of uncertain gender. Each time I passed someone, I sensed a different perfume. It gave me the illusion of being in an airport.
It’s been about a month since I arrived in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. Every day I’ve been doing something—paperwork, house-hunting—to make it possible for me to settle here. Some things are very difficult, but each day feels fresh and fulfilling. Before I came here, I faced enormous inner conflict and fear. Not all of those negative emotions have disappeared even now. But for various reasons, I am actually here. I am living here.
In order to switch from a tourist visa to a self-employed visa, I took trains, buses, and trams to and from the embassy and the ministry. But I spent most of my time house-hunting. Because in this country, finding a home is one of the most difficult things. In recent years, there’s been a severe housing crisis, and supply (homes) is horribly out of sync with demand. There are many people who want to live in this country but cannot because they can’t find a place, and are forced to return home. Even locals struggle to find housing. On top of that, war refugees have been flooding in, and scams have become widespread in response to the situation. Even so, by good fortune, I managed to attend a few property viewings. Just being able to go to a viewing felt like an achievement in this bizarre world.
One of the places I viewed was a frighteningly old building. When I arrived at the specified time and place, there was already a crowd of 20 or 30 people. “No way,” I thought. But it was exactly that. They were all there for the viewing. After a while, I heard a loud, high-pitched voice shout, “Welcome, welcome!” Contrary to that voice, a giant Dutch man appeared and made a strange beckoning gesture as he opened the door of the property. Everyone shuffled in together. It almost looked like some sort of theme park attraction.
Inside, it was spacious. There were rooms of various sizes, but the floor creaked loudly when you walked, the walls were crumbling, and there were no lights on the ceiling—only a few dangling cords. I thought it wouldn’t be strange to see this in a Harry Potter film set. The rent, when converted to yen, was expensive. It was what’s called a “shell” property—an entirely empty space that certain people liked to rent so they could DIY it however they wanted.
The viewers were chatting freely. I couldn’t understand a single word of their Dutch. When I stepped outside, a cool and fresh breeze was blowing, but even then, new viewers continued to enter the building. I wondered how many people had come in total. I sat on a nearby park bench and drank some water. After all, I’m a foreigner here, and not a full-time employee at any company. And yet, this level of competition. The temporary housing I’ve been allowed to stay in will soon come to an end. In a park under clear skies, thoughts as heavy as rain clouds gently drifted through my mind.
A few days later, I headed to the center of Amsterdam with only the bare essentials. For today, I decided to set the busyness aside and simply enjoy this city. Come to think of it, I’d been so busy I hadn’t even gone to see the city center yet. After changing subway lines and coming up to the surface, a cute, fairytale-like streetscape was waiting for me. It felt like an amusement park and like something out of a movie. Lovely. So many canals, bridges, bits of nature, a variety of people, the drifting scent of ganja, the sweet cinnamon aroma of pastries. Fluffy clouds spread across the sky like a Western landscape painting. All of it felt utterly fresh.
I had a latte on the terrace of a corner café by the canal and watched the people passing by. A shirtless, cheerful man striding along. Bicycles tearing past. People with strikingly colored hair and beards. Someone blasting music at full volume. Someone completely Stoned (so high on ganja they couldn’t move). The word “diversity” truly suits this city. For better or worse, people seemed uninterested in others, yet at the same time they seemed to be freely expressing themselves and their lives.
“There was meaning in coming here.” Just watching them made me feel that strongly.
I bought some ganja at a coffeeshop. In this city it’s sold everywhere as a matter of course, and people were smoking it all over. I lit the tip and took a thin, slow drag. The ember crackled softly. The smoke filled my lungs at an easy pace. It has a distinctive smell. I don’t dislike it. My chest felt a little itchy, but it didn’t hurt. I held my breath for a while, then slowly exhaled through a small opening in my mouth. A thin white thread of smoke curled into the air like a small snake. Matching its pace, I slowly let my weight sink into the backrest.
The characteristic fluffy intoxication began to arrive. A familiar feeling. A strange sensation, as if being pulled downward and lifted upward at the same time. Music playing somewhere began to reverberate through my body as if it were being performed live right beside me. The comfort of it made a smile spill out naturally. “Ah, this is it.” It was like that aligned state people talk about in the sauna. I felt grateful. It was as if sunlight had broken through, cleaving the rain clouds that had been drifting around inside me for so long. Several warm, gentle rays of light shone down on the earth. There, a tsukushi (a young horsetail shoot) rejoiced with its whole body, looking up at the sky.
It’s okay; it’ll work out somehow. There’s no basis for it, but it’ll work out somehow. It’s absolutely going to be okay. I’ll surely find it. And even if various things “don’t go well,” I think that too is inevitable in its own way. People are always being guided to the place they’re meant to go. So “it didn’t go well” is just a brand my present self stamps onto an event; put plainly, I think it’s nothing more than an illusion. When my slightly-further-in-the-future self looks back at me now, I’m sure I’ll think, That was one of the important stepping stones too. So in the end, everything is okay. I can just keep going as I am. Resting like this matters, too. Rest itself is one of those important stepping stones. The “path” will continue on for a long, long way from here. I’ll walk it one step at a time, at my own pace.
With a quiet sense of conviction and ease in my chest, I drew another thin, slow stream of smoke. The tsukushi reached for the sky, healthy and strong. The distinctive people kept passing by, caring nothing for anyone’s gaze.
