Expat Life: Unexpected Firsts
These first couple of weeks have been a whirlwind. I don’t know why I expected moving to another country would be a breeze…”We’ll find a place to live immediately, it will be beautifully furnished, everything will be perfect, then we’ll go on our first trip!” To which life responded, “You’re cute. But no.”
Where to start? We had an appointment to open our bank account the Monday we arrived. The banker told us we each had to wait for 5 separate pieces of mail before we could access it, which, fine. New to us, but no big deal. The mail came sporadically, and finally…TWO WEEKS later I received enough documents to use my bank card and access the account. To this day, Luke still cannot (my money now, sucker). This was a problem because A) I couldn’t get a phone plan without a bank card, so I had to rely heavily on the WiFi I rarely had and B) Many places, such as the grocery store, only accept cash or bank card. Since we assumed we would be able to use our bank account when we opened it (high expectations, I know), we brought about 100 euros. Hello, ATM fees.
The next and, arguably, most stressful hiccup was finding a place to live. Our expat contacts in Amsterdam all found their apartments within the first week, and most places are furnished so we shipped as little as possible. Fast forward to the very end of our temporary housing allotted by Luke’s company (also two weeks later), we’re signing a lease for an unfurnished apartment. This brings me to the windowless U-Haul with a manual transmission. I’ll just say this – driving a windowless U-Haul around a city of cyclists coming at you from all directions, most appearing out of thin air, is something you will never witness me do. My husband is a champ. And all survived. As far as we know.
After we drive through the countryside to pick up our mattress from a lovely couple, visit multiple furniture stores, and turn into demogorgons at IKEA, we arrive in front of our new apartment building with all of our loot. Have I mentioned our apartment is on the top floor? If you’ve been inside an apartment building in Amsterdam, you know the struggle. The staircases are comparable to really tall, windy ladders. So there’s that. Anyway, a lifetime later, we get it all upstairs and now my jeans don’t fit over my Apolo Ohno quads.
It’s tempting to sulk after all of this. I admittedly have a hard time feeling unsettled. There’s patio furniture in the living room. The things we did ship are still on their way to customs. Our mattress is on the floor. Unopened IKEA boxes are stacked in a tall pile, reminding us of the hours we (my husband) will spend putting it all together. But honestly, the more I think about it, I can’t help but laugh. And pretty much just feel like a badass. We carried a freaking WASHING MACHING up 4 steep flights of stairs. A washing machine! And because we couldn’t find a furnished apartment we liked, we found our new home. One in our ideal location, with amazing views of the city, an actual freezer (not a thing here), and yes, patio furniture in the living room.
It’s not the move I expected. It’s better. A better story, a better apartment, a better opportunity for our marriage to grow stronger. We’ve been able to experience the kindness in strangers and new friends. Everything moves a little slower here (excluding cyclists) and that’s not a bad thing. These will all be beautiful memories of our firsts in Amsterdam, and I’ll settle into being unsettled a little while longer with a grateful heart.
