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. (Continue)

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. (Continue)

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. (Continue)

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. (Continue)

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. (Continue)

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. Aside from bookshop owner she’s also a writer. I love the work she does at One World, where she articulates strong perspectives on antiracism and equity. (Continue)

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. (Continue)