IT IS HOT STOP CLIMATE CHANGE NOW. I don’t think I’ve seen hotter days this year than week 36. Getting out of a hot shower and feeling equally wet fifteen minutes later. Lemonade barely wanting to walk outside. The sun beaming so feriously we can’t keep the windows open. Thank you, Jesus, but please make it cooler.
There’s something sweet about seeing Amsterdam through the eyes of friends from abroad. On Tuesday, I couldn’t have been more excited to welcome my
Vine & Fig friends Pickles and Patrick to the city. They’re two Irish Catholic gay men named Patrick, so we try to make it work any way we can.
I was saddened by the fact that Jacob, Patrick’s husband, couldn’t make it because he had to stay home and help their dog Jude recover from surgery. All week, I felt like we were missing a limb.
I joined the V&F leadership team in mid 2020, and we’ve been growing a friendship since. The moment I saw them I knew we were going to get along perfectly in real life, too. Finally getting to embrace them felt like to most natural thing in the world.
Their AirBnb, which is located just off of Vijzelgracht, was absolutely ridiculous. A three-bedroom penthouse overlooking De Pijp, enormous backyard below, include Swedish saunas and swimming pools. This is how the other half lives.
I made time to hang out with the Patricks every day they were here, which took us to sweet places. I took them to
Takeichi, my favorite ramen place where I always order anything but ramen, and to
Studio K, where they met Lemonade, who chewed through her leash in what seemed like a quiet moment.
On Friday, we went cheese and wine tasting at
Abraham Kef in Noord. It reminded me of how much I love cheese. It was the first thing I was able to say after I learned to say “momma”. I want to make my own cheese.
After dinner at
Thuskomme on Saturday we took silly mugshots with my Polaroid camera.
It is truly wonderful to spend time with the Patricks, with whom I weave in and out of conversation topics like it’s nobody’s business. One minute we’re talking about sex toys, and the next about the Book of Job. Knowing they were going to be leaving made me cry a little bit, but then I remembered our friendship had survived without physical get-togethers for three years already.
On Friday, I met with Mpho to chat church business. I’ve been discerning all Summer about how I would want to be involved in the church now that it’s becoming a church plant, and I decided maintaining the website and social media was a commitment I could make.
On Sunday, All Saints held her homecoming gathering after the Summer break. Kyle Rader, our new minister, was there for the first time. I liked the elder millennial vibe he brings to the service. It was intimate and lovely, although I seriously missed the pianist. After the service, we gathered for a potluck dinner in the bishop’s garden next to the church. I showed the logo ideas I had been working on, to friendly compliments.
The first week back at work is fairly quiet, I even found myself on the verge of boredom at one point. Organically, this makes me feel bad, but I remind myself that weeks before and after holidays tend to have this effect on my life. I tell myself I’m just landing.
No one can convince me the municipality of Amsterdam isn’t using major construction projects to show tourists how crap the city can be. On Sunday, I go for a long bike ride to Amsterdamse Bos and back, and crossing the Berlagebrug I’m struck by how quiet the street is without cars racing by. I like it.
Anja’s still off for the summer, and I’m watching her slowly recover from being my personal chauffeur for two weeks
The Summer makes me not want to cook. It’s no help that I’m using
Annelie’s apartment to work while she’s travelling, and that I use the occasion to order poke bowls for lunch. I’m surprised by the quality of
Poke Perfect’s teriyaki chicken bowl, extra edamame.
Nienke, Mehdi, an anonymous friend, and I attend the annual Pride March. It’s the city’s first
two-week Pride festival in Amsterdam, each week organized by a different organization. With a naturally intersectional and radically-inclusive interpretation of the term “queer”, I am pleased
Queer Amsterdam is taking care of the annual Pride Walk.
On Friday, I tell colleagues over office drinks why we still need Pride. The fact that I had to write “an anonymous friend” instead of the name of a person I love and admire illustrates my point beautifully.
When I first set foot in the
Old Catholic Church to attend an All Saints service,
I knew I had found a special place. Today is the third time I make it to their service, which is always on the second Sunday of the month.
It just so happens that this second Sunday falls on Easter, and it’s perhaps because of this that the service is more crowded than previous times. I see All Saints regulars as well as new people, shy and seemingly hopeful.
She blesses Anja, me, and a handful of other people who carved out time in their Sunday evenings to come to Church. I have never been inside this particular church building before, and chuckle at how new the Old Catholic decor is: in imagery and candle lighting possibilities it’s reminiscent of the average Dutch Roman Catholic church. Its white walls and central heating tell me something different.
You may think I chose this church because the woman blessing us is Desmond Tutu’s daughter, the Reverend Canon Mpho Tutu van Furth, and because Anja and I can’t help but fangirl. I’m here because she’s a Black queer person leading a church service that I can attend in person. I never thought I would see the day.
There’s a woman who runs a
bookshop in De Bijlmer. She has kind eyes that make you want to curl up with a book and a cup of tea. Often when I’m there, she offers just that: tea, and a place to quiet down and dive into an interesting title. She’s running a fine business over there, Cole Verhoeven is.
My attempt to lure both Anja and myself outside for some fresh air and a walk was thwarted as soon as I learned the place was out of my favorite bubble tea. We strolled to Flevopark, in my hand an ice cream cone, and on my face the disappointment of a toddler who can’t be satisfied.
The park has a wide field that allows loose dogs to roam freely in the off-season. Even through the trees Anja and I spotted the corgi from half a mile away.
