I stepped out of the train at Amsterdam Centraal. Rain was drizzling on my suitcases. The waterdrops were a welcome refreshment after the seven hour long train ride to the Netherlands. I still chuckle at my cluelessness from two years ago. After about a month in the Dutch capital I was annoyed by the rain. To be fair, in February it rained for an entire month straight, arriving at university with jeans that stick to your legs and wet hair every day, drives everyone, even the people who love rain, a little bit mad. However, two years ago, I was still unaware of this wetland and I smiled while the little drops jumped off my nose. When you step out of the central station you are immediately greeted with chaos. On the left the penetrating sounds of tram bells reach you even if you are listening to music. In front of you a mixture of pedestrians, cyclists and confused tourists form one big ball of people. Concern rushed through my (already nervous) body, how in hell was I supposed to cross that intersection? I sighed and started walking when a biker nearly drove through me and proceeded to move on without a flinch. Welcome to Amsterdam.

After taking the wrong tram twice, I had finally arrived in my empty room. The first thing you need when you come to Amsterdam is a bike. Without one you do not have any freedom at all. So, after some slightly awkward conversations with my roommates, I walked to the nearest bike shop and bought my first bike. The first night I peeked through my curtains about a million times in complete paranoia that it would get stolen. (Don’t worry, your bikes will only get stolen when you really, really, need it to go somewhere). The next morning I made a to do list in order to structure some of the chaos that had fabricated in my head. How was this adulting thing supposed to work? (Let me know if you find out, by the way). Completely overwhelmed with all my tasks I biked to the University of Amsterdam. The nerves that had built up in my body calmed down for the first time since my arrival, as I looked around and was greeted with the glistering water of the canals. A light breeze (I was still unaware that these breezes would become full blown winds later in the year, that for some reason never seem to be behind you), washed over me and for the first I was sure that I made the right choice to move here.

 The temporary moment of rest was gone the moment I locked my bike and walked into the University. Once more, chaos arose. I had about a million questions for the (poor) lady at the information desk and she could answer about three of them. Apparently, some documents were missing or lost, which meant that my parents had to send me the documents per mail from Germany. My experience at the UvA was off to a rusty start. While I love the university, its administration can be endlessly frustrating, so built up some patience, you are going to need it.

It was only about a month after classes had started, when I truly felt at home in the city. While my food, beer and my rent had (and have) left me broke, I stood in some sort of bar, ready to spend even more money. My room was fully furnished, my documents had long arrived in Amsterdam and next to me, my drunk -equally drunk and broke as me- friends were waving at me, signalling that I should hurry up and bring the next round of beers. My mouth formed into a smile. I finally could say that I lived in Amsterdam, and actually feel like it was true. All the while, I still liked the rain.