The show goes on...

I am writing this from the dining room table of the first floor of Eerste Atjehstraat 69.



Outside the window, I see a blue sky, a large blue winebego parked opposite my house, and the owner of the local cafe unstacking his chairs outside, preparing for a good day of trade I imagine. 



It's 9:34am on my last day in Amsterdam as a resident.



Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will be another traveller, passing through, without an idea of when I will be back in Amsterdam, The Netherlands or even Europe.



In an hour, my mattress will be taken from the house.



So will the 8 boxes and single suitcase of belongings that I have accumulated over the last 3 years.



Then I will return my mobile phone and travel card to the office.



And finally, come home and my bed will get taken away.



And herein, that becomes the end of my life in Amsterdam.



I will have one last dinner with my friends and then go to an airport hotel.



I am not sure what else to write, except that I am not sure how to feel.



I'm 30,  unemployed,  single and soon to be homeless - but as my dear friend Sarah said to me last night, all of this was my choice and that's what's important.



And damn it, that is what is important.



It was important to me 3 years ago that I had options and that I was allowed to choose from all those options with my best interests at heart. I wanted to broaden my world, not shrink it. When I went out into the big bad world, little did I know that after having a buffet of options spread out infront of me, the one that I would ultimately take would lead me back home.



One of the most resounding feelings that I have at the moment is an immense amount of pride. After landing here with no job, no friends, and hardly any money, I leave with almost 3 years experience at an international firm, a varied and fascinating circle of friends ... and still no money, but my life is certainly richer in other areas.



I travelled when it was possible, I shared times with old friends and new, I made stuff (some I liked and enjoyed doing, some I hated making and hated putting my name to), I ate a lot of good food and a lot of bad food, and I met a LOT of people.



I lived a  dream. At times it seemed more like a nightmare because it wasn't everything it was cracked up to be, but I can now say "I lived in Europe." and what is important is that everytime I say that I remember that I was the one that made it happen, and I can hold on to this achievement.



Now that I've ticked that one off the list, it's time to keep moving forward, and keeping ticking more dreams off the list.



So, let the show go on.



Leaving is hard, leaving is sad, leaving is confusing... but there is a quiet sense of faith inside of me that knows that leaving is clearing a path for growth and more rich experiences.



Goodbye Amsterdam. 

Party like it's 1925

I turned 30!

The view from Eerste Atjehstraat

Yo ho ho.

The feedback

"I heard the news, it's a shame you're leaving but understandable."

- Global Sales and Marketing Director

The only person higher than him is the CEO.

It's a mother flippin' heatwave yo'...!

You know it's summer when...

... the boats are triple parked on the wharf of your favourite bar.

Hanneke's Boom, Amsterdam

Marketing Genius

Amsterdam, why you so funny?

Hoi Tin Chinese Restaurant, Zeedijk

What the universe said

I quit my job last Wednesday.
Everything's going to be ok.

Sunday morning

My house. My hood.

Dusk

Prinsengracht

The psychology of going without Milk

You know you've been in The Netherlands too long when you look in the office fridge for milk, find out there is none, and start going through the 5 stages of grief.

1. Shock and Denial - "What do you mean the interns forgot to buy milk? That can't be true!"

2. Pain and Guilt - "Maybe I should have said something earlier?"

3. Anger and Bargaining - "You mean, I'll have to go get Milk?! That's not MY job! If I give you 2 EU, will you go down to the store and get some milk?"

4. Depression, Reflection, Loneliness - " *sob* But I don't want black coffee. I remember what milky coffee used to taste like. It's not the same without you, milk."

5. Acceptance - "I'll be ok. Maybe there'll be milk in the fridge tomorrow?"

Freelance office

Two observations:

1. There's no milk in the fridge. Where are the interns, and why aren't they doing their job and filling the fridges with milk??? How can I write if I can't drink my standard coffee with milk?
Is it too much to ask to have some freaking milk around???
(Huff, hair flick, pout)

2. Two colleagues are talking about robots having feelings and how in this day and age it should be possible. Totally normal. Totally serious. Totally ok with me.

The little jokes the city plays

I was cycling around the city yesterday on my day off, and I rode past the Westerkerk which is right near the Anne Frank house.

It was chiming a little tune, and while I was speeding down the street, dodging tourists, gliding past the canals, the tinkling followed me.

I tried to place the song and melody.

Then, I swore that I had it worked out.

"Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole.

Very suiting since it was Valentines day.

Perfection

Memories of a beautiful dry and warm Autumn day, strolling and shopping with my sister and brother in the Nine Streets district, when they came to visit.

Technically speaking

L.O: Did you just say that?

Me: What?

L.O: You had the opposite of a "gang bang" at your house today?

Me: Yes, that's what I said.

L.O: What does that even mean?

Me: We were hungover so we all had a little nap side by side on the floor of my living room.

L.O: How many of you?

Me: I don't know... four? You know, because it was so damn innocent, almost like Sunday version of a kindergarden nap time.

L.O's boyfriend: Actually, the opposite of a gang bang would technically be reading the Financial Times, alone.

Kids with jobs

“The most sophisticated people I know - inside they are all children”

- Jim Henson


Late twenties and early thirties... and We are just kids. With jobs. And that makes us awesome.

I'd like to be the kid that got to market this as their job.

TomTom records Bert and Ernie's navigation voices from AmsterdamAdBlog on Vimeo.

First video interview

Interview and video direction by me.

Physalia motion design studio: interview from SubmarineChannel on Vimeo.

The mist

My building.

Amsterdam has been covered in a misty fog for the last few weeks, and I am absolutely loving it.

It reminds me of a couple of things.

I looked outside my front windows today and I had a nolstalgic moment of home.

The fog in the Adelaide Hills was always pretty disorientating and quite dangerous when you're speeding up the freeway at 100 kilometres per hour, but I always loved it.

The colours of autumn in the trees at the park across the road, in conjunction with the mist made me think about the Adelaide Hills, and how nice it was there, and how nice it is here right now. Not too cold at six degrees, just nice.


Also brings me back to when I first arrived and ended up housesitting Pia's houseboat along an inner city canal at the beginning of winter. The streets along that canal are all cobblestoned with old street lamps illuminating the way home. I was walking back from my first Christmas dinner with the company, and wondering if I would end up staying in Amsterdam to see another winter.

I had joked with my boss at the time that since there was no guarantee of me being around next year as I was on a contract, we should go all out on the dinner and go nuts with the wine. I walked home (the houseboat) from the museum restaurant, through the mist and fog and I remember feeling like I was walking through an old movie, expecting Sherlock Holmes and some bloodhounds to come tearing around the corner. (Understanding that this isn't London, I'm just trying to convey how old world it felt.)

The first week I was there, it was like living in Sleepy Hollow.

Then fast forward to the weekend just been, I spent it with friends doing fun things, sometimes creative, sometimes absurd, sometimes pointless.

Last night, I stayed at a friend's house after a paticularly huge Saturday night out with a few other people, and my friend AHS and I were cycling over a bridge over the Amstel river trying to navigate our way home.

We had all been watching movies inside the entire day, bravely fighting hangovers with toasted cheese sandwiches, kapsalon (literally, "The Hairdresser" - which is a dutch fast food kebab invention of kebab meat, covered in melted cheese, aoili, salad, and tomato sauce and fries) and coffee.

As I cycled next to AHS, we could barely see through the dense cloud that surrounded us, not even being able to see the lights along the river, or the illuminated outline of the Skinny bridge (Magere Brug), Amsterdam's most famous bridge. Being inside all day with Australians and watching American movies, it was very easy to forget where I was.

"Don't you feel like you're in a movie?"

"Yeah. All the time. I hope it never ends." he said.

All the ranting and wailing in my previous post was just a basic frustration about my job and the whole situation with being owned by the company.

But it's that same job that allows me to have the great times that I do, stay with the great friends that I have and experience "normal" things like cycling home through thick fog.

I went to bed last night, and looked outside my bedroom window and saw the transluscent mist floating around and I kind of gasped unintentionally.

I went to bed grateful.