Why you should be glad that you are not from Amsterdam

“You don’t have to be born there to want to come from there.” This is written in large letters on a wall in a city where I once lived, but I think it also fits Amsterdam. And it especially suits Amsterdammers, both the real ones and the newcomers. I love both inside and outside the ring. But when you take a step back, you can look a bit more critically at the chaos. They say. By the way, I agree with that and I happen to live outside. Mokum That’s why: why you can sometimes really be glad that you don’t live within the city ring.

Cycling is possible, even if you’re not tired of life.

Just admit it, if you’re not catapulted over a motor hood at least once in your life, you’ll end up with a tire stuck between the tram tracks. With danger to your own life, you get on that steel horse. It’s a death wish times ten, cycling in Amsterdam. They also cycle along the Vecht, a bit boring perhaps but no tram in sight.

You have a bike anyway.

If there’s something to cycle, because you need at least one new one every month… because it gets stolen. Mine is in our heated storage, no one touches the old wreck unwanted. Okay, okay, this sounds a bit elderly.

Tourists, which tourists?

Unless you were born and raised in Volendam, but otherwise you don’t curse them. If you live in Amsterdam, you curse tourists. The Amsterdammer and the tourist are like Cola and Mentos and by the way, it’s the Amsterdammer who starts spitting. We used to be happy when something unknown came to the village. Preferably our age, male and handsome. In short: no fear of tourists to be found among us outsiders.

Who knows, you might have a charming accent.

A little bit of hearing where the roots lie isn’t so bad. It’s even seen as authentic and gives trust. I spoke to a woman in the gym this morning, who just at the end of her statement had such a small, soft-g accent. I immediately liked her more because of it.

You can go on vacation calmly and drug-free.

No one asks if you happen to have ‘grass’ on you when you say you come from Schubbekutteveen (hi Kiek). But say once that you live in Amsterdam and they talk to you stoned while you’re standing there.

Being hip is not an obligation.

Even the yuppies in Amsterdam are a bit hipster (my autocorrect just changed hipster to wipperig, which might also apply). Sometimes I see someone looking at me sideways, but then I just start shouting very loudly that I come from the province (even though I now live somewhat in the suburbs), it helps. When I go to the south, they look a bit suspiciously at the combination of sports pants and silver heels. But oh well… you’ll always have those little things.

Going out is not a choice.

Because there’s one pub and everyone goes there, much more straightforward.

You live cheaper.

Even a real Amsterdammer living within the ring can’t argue against that.