Misadventures In Holland

What a crazy week it has been.

Last Sunday I packed as much of my life into three suitcases and backpack as I could and shipped off to Amsterdam. Yeah, Amsterdam… you heard right. Oh you didn’t know? I got a job and live in Holland now. Read up.

My mom took me to the airport and I had what I think was my first and last lunch at Dick Clarke’s American Bandstand where I had a burger, fires and chocolate shake. What could be more American, eh? My first flight left at 2pm Arizona time and was four hours to Detroit. I watched some choppy streaming video of NFL games on the inflight WiFi (impressive still), before hopping off that flight and immediately hopping on my plane to Amsterdam.

8 hours, little sleep and some decent plane food later, I was on the ground at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam. After presenting my passport to be stamped and picking up my suitcases, I met up a man who works for the local relocation service in charge of finding me an apartment and taking care of my visa paperwork and such. For no good reason, lets just call him George. That’s not even remotely close to his real name.

I exchanged some cash ($500 became €330) and George and I were on our way in his Volvo to my apartment. On the map, Amsterdam is a big-ish looking city, but it’s actually not that large at all. The “metro” area is about one-fifth that of Phoenix, only about 10km across (look at me already on the metric system). So the drive from the airport was maybe only 10 or 15 minutes partly because of the size and partly because it was about noon, so there was little traffic.

Now let me backtrack a bit. Before moving out I was in communication with George about my new place; he sent me a few options and pictures and we agreed on an apartment. The apartment was just €900/month (the first month is paid for by the relocation agency) and wasn’t terribly far from my office (about 4 miles). It wasn’t in the most interesting area of town; mainly a lower-income immigrant neighborhood, but there was a metro station at the end of the street so it was good in that sense.

George showed me pictures of the apartment and told me it was furnished and would include the things I saw. The pictures showed nice furnishings: a full bed, some standing closets, a bureu, a big comfy-looking sofa, a dining room table, chairs, a TV with a nice entertainment center, rugs on the hardwood floors, curtains on the windows, etc. In fact, here’s a pair of the images he sent me – you can see most of these features in it.

Fast forward to George and I arriving at the apartment. We arrive (and walk up four stories of stairs – no elevator) and walk in the door and find the landlord there. Let’s just call him Robert. George and I walk in and … the apartment is virtually empty. Barren, in fact. And the things that are there are nothing close to the pictures.

The bed is a tiny twin cot and its the only thing in the bedroom, the sofa is a shoddy love seat, theres no TV, no entertainment center, no rugs, no curtains, no table and chairs, and even the coffee table wasn’t the same. There wasn’t even a stove in the kitchen – just an empty space with a gas pipe connection sticking out of the wall. No microwave (AKA megatron) either. There aren’t even light fixtures in the ceiling: just bulbs hanging by their wires.

My heart raced and I quickly felt sick. I thought I was going to vomit. Here’s what it looked like.

George apparently knew this was happening too and failed to tell me before we showed up. He assured me everything would be taken care of soon, so I signed the rental agreement and that was that. Soon I was alone in the apartment feeling very shaky and extremely tired from the flight. Robert returned shortly thereafter to show me around a nearby shopping center (which we drove to) and to buy me some food. I was so shaken by the events that I couldn’t eat despite being very hungry. It felt like a bad hangover.

Eventually I started unpacking my things and tried to settle in, and over the days pieces of furniture surfaced in the apartment. A TV (though it was never hooked up to the service), a second twin-sized cot to put next to the other (though the seam between them was impossible to lay on), an armoire/closet thing, a trashcan (yeah there wasn’t a trashcan before), a microwave, etc. The apartment remained largely empty over the week, however.

The next day, Tuesday, I took my first metro trip into town and went to my new office, Layar, to do paperwork and to meet my new coworkers. The Layar offices are in a super-modern new building in a nice part of Amsterdam, and the friendly people provided a stark contrast to my bland, empty apartment. I felt so much better being there – and maybe that helped me realized just how poor the conditions I was living in were. I almost wished I could sleep at the office.

During my time at the office I explained the mix up with the living arrangement between George and Robert and my boss Maarten (real name) did not hesitate to step in. He and other folks there worked together for me to make it clear that George needed to rectify the situation quickly, and they began to dig around to find me a new place.

Wednesday I went with George to the Expat Center and to the bank to take care of some work permit, visa and bank account stuff. He then took me by the IKEA to get a few things for the apartment, and then I stayed home for the day to try and catch up on sleep. I spent most of my free time the first week watching TV shows on my laptop and sleeping.

Thursday and Friday I went into Layar “unofficially.” Though my work contract doesn’t begin until the first of November, I went in early because I liked being there a whole lot more than my apartment. Thursday night after work I walked with my boss to his house to have dinner with him and his formerly American wife and their 6-month old son. It was a great time, having a beer and some Dutch faire (potatoes and saussage). We chatted more about the living situation, and eventually I grabbed a nearby train home.

Friday, while at work, Gordon – a recruiter for Layar – pulled me aside for a video chat with Maarten, who was working at home that day. He wanted to inform me that after dinner with me (at around 9pm) he had contacted George and put his foot down, and demanded the situation be resolved. In just over 15 hours, George had found me a new place to live in a much better area of town but for a little more money than the last place.

The original agreement was for something under €1000 (hence the €900 apartment), so Maarten agreed to pay any of the rent over €1000 for the first three months. He also offered to put me up in a hotel immediately until the new place is ready. Gordon drove me around the area of town where the new place is, and its a really lovely neighborhood that is much closer to work and is more active with city living. The photos of the apartment looked awesome, but I wanted to see the place for myself.

First things first, however. That night after work I went home and packed all of my things up, called a cab and checked into the hotel. It turns out the new apartment won’t be ready until November 8th, so I’ll be in this hotel for about a week or so. The hotel is very nice and it is at the end of a street called P.C. Hooftstraat, which is like Amsterdam’s Rodeo Drive. There are tons of expensive shops (Tiffany & Co, Lacoste, Tommy Hilfiger, Louis Vuitton, etc etc) and the street is lined by BMW, Mercedes Bens and Porche cars. The hotel is equally nice, here’s a picture of my cozy little room, one of the hotels more modest ones.

Today (Saturday) I slept in and met up with George to go tour the new place. It’s great. Not only is the area great but the apartment is much nicer on the inside. It has a sofa and two chairs, a coffee table, and entertainment table, and flatscreen TV, a dining table and chairs, washer/dryer, dishwasher, stove, microwave/oven, balcony, larger fridge, a nice double bed, and a closet. Many of the things the last one should have had.

It’s even got a nice shower and a separate tub – a far cry from the poorly-maintained bathroom in the previous place. It’s the “first floor”, which is actually the second, but I have my own door and a private stairway. Here’s a shot of the living room (also linked to above).

Which brings us to… now. As I sit here typing this blog from my cozy hotel room on the P.C. Hooftstaat, I’m in a far better mood than I was at my last place. Earlier this week I just stayed in my apartment and watched videos on the love seat. Today I got out and the weather was absolutely beautiful. I walked around the Vondelpark, which is Amsterdam’s Central or Golden Gate Park (though not nearly as large). I walked end-to-end and back in about 75 minutes. I took some pictures, which you can see here.

I’m so much more happier and I’ve already begun to feel more at home just being in the city and in a nice place. I had a rough first week staying in the rundown apartment on the “wrong side of the ring” as they say here (“the ring” being a highway which circles the city).

It was one hell of a week, and this one should be strange as well as I am forced to eat out for dinner and familiarize myself in this area, but soon enough I’ll be in a new place that is mine and that makes me happy.

Then, perhaps, I can actually start to get settled.