Ekaterina Netchitailova

And so, at the age of 23/24 I ended up living in Amsterdam, where I stayed for seven years in total.

But before I tell you more about my adventures there (such as ending up in a psychosis at the age of twenty-seven), let’s look at Amsterdam at first.

From all the places where I had the privilege to live (Moscow, Brussels, Sheffield, and now Leeuwarden), Amsterdam is the most picturesque by all accounts. All that old buildings in the center, the beautiful canals, museums, and interesting people coming from all parts of the world. I fell in love with the city as soon as I arrived, in 2000, to do my studies for an executive master degree. I had won a bursary and moved to Amsterdam from Brussels, due to my constant desire to learn more things in life.

It’s hard not to like a city that shows you so much kindness. The management of the master degree helped me to find a fantastic room in the best location possible, where I would wake up each morning, looking at a canal. I lived in the Plantage area of the city, on a street called Plantage Middenlaan, stretching along the canal, five minutes away from the zoo. It was beautiful to live in a such a place, and of course, I loved Amsterdam even more!

Amsterdam isn’t a typical city. I would describe Amsterdam as a magical city. Weird stuff would happen to me there, both in a practical but also magical sense. For instance, while finding employment with then my Russian passport seemed almost impossible, I managed to land in the job of a financial analyst of banks, without any experience in the field. I also managed to find another nice apartment in the south of the city, five minutes’ walk away from the gorgeous Amstel river. It looked like luck was on my side when I lived in Amsterdam.

But weird stuff would also happen. I met a guy who was giving spiritual (breathwork) seminars, and I overheard him telling to others, that he had met a couple of immortals and that they would gather in a special café. The thing in Amsterdam, despite that I possessed all my sanity before my first psychosis, was that it was possible to believe such stories, due solely to the atmosphere of the city. Nowhere else can you meet so many strange and eccentric people like in Amsterdam. And I am not talking about the Red Light District that mostly tourists attend. I totally disliked that part of Amsterdam. No, I am talking about the areas slightly away from the center: the vibrant eastern part of the city, that attracted more of international community, next to Oosterpark, its market where all kinds of strange things were on sale. Sandwiches next to bike accessories and clothes brought from Turkey.

The Western part, little bit posher but very green and cozy, with interesting cafes and shops. The mythical north where one had to take a special boat in order to reach it, and the south, around the magnificent Amstel river where one could swim in the summer, and then sit at a sunny terrace, drinking a nice glass of wine. It was perfect, but it was also interesting. Weird people are welcome in Amsterdam, there are literary everywhere!

I felt a home, of course, after my first psychosis, even if life would take me back to Belgium and then The UK and now in Leeuwarden, but I go back often, to spend time in the most eccentric city on earth. I get a sense of belonging when I am there.

(weird me next to another weird person)