My Journey to Belonging in Amsterdam

Two years before my family moved from the United States to Amsterdam, we relocated from Seattle to Boston. Seattle was where I became an adult—where I went to graduate school, got married, had a baby, and built the foundation of my career as a clinical social worker. My husband’s work led us first to Boston and later to Amsterdam, and I moved as an accompanying partner.

While I was fully supportive, being the one uprooting my career, routines, and friendships made parts of the transition more challenging than I expected. Seattle held memories, milestones, and community, and perhaps because we were staying within the U.S., I assumed the move to Boston would be easy.

And I assumed the move to Amsterdam would be hard.

It turned out to be the opposite.

Moving to Boston was unexpectedly difficult. I didn’t have any friends for the first year. While Boston eventually grew into a place where we felt comfortable and connected, it took time and persistence. Just as we finally felt settled—with community, routine, and friends—our move to Amsterdam was already underway.

Looking back, that experience had prepared us. We had already navigated a major move, and we carried lessons and resilience with us. We were also more emotionally ready for difficulty—new country, new language, new systems, smaller home, no car, and no built-in social network. Somehow acknowledging that helped. The transition to Amsterdam was not easy, but it was easier than expected. Even eight years later, there are still occasional challenges—because adapting abroad is ongoing.

When we arrived, I made a conscious decision: I would build a community for myself and for my family. I said yes to every invitation, even though there were very few at first. Eventually I realized I couldn’t just wait to be included—I needed to initiate. I left handwritten invitations in neighbour mailboxes, exchanged phone numbers with other parents, volunteered, and joined international groups. Some efforts blossomed into friendships; others didn’t. At times it was overwhelming, lonely, and I felt vulnerable—but connection slowly formed.

About a year in, I finally tried something I had always wanted to do but never had time for in the U.S.: Rowing. I joined a rowing club—not knowing Dutch, not knowing if I’d belong—and was surprised by how easy it was to join as an international newcomer. The welcome I received was warm and encouraging.

What followed became one of the most meaningful parts of my life abroad.

Rowing immersed me in Dutch culture in a way nothing else had. The boat became an unconventional language classroom. I learned Dutch rowing commands because I needed them—to stay safe and in rhythm with my team. My crewmates spoke English when needed, but gently encouraged Dutch, and my confidence grew each week.

Rowing also created real friendships. A crucial part of the rowing culture happens after rowing—having coffee and talking, laughing, learning about each other’s lives. It helped me feel part of the local rhythm. And then there was the magic of rowing itself: gliding along the Amstel, passing historic bridges and houses, seeing the seasons change on the water. Rain or shine, every time I sat in the boat I felt gratitude. It is a beautiful, memorable way to experience Amsterdam.

Rowing quietly addressed nearly every challenge of being an international:

• Culture
• Language
• Friendship and belonging
• Physical and emotional well-being

Over time, I realized rowing was more than a sport—it reflected the experience of adapting abroad. You learn slowly, practice consistently, and stay patient. You rely on trust and teamwork. Progress comes, but not instantly. And even when you’ve learned the skills, there are still challenges—along with growth, confidence, and joy.

Just like settling into a new country.

Rowing wasn’t the only way I built a life here—but it stands out. It became a bridge to the city, its people, confidence, identity, and belonging. Eight years after arriving in Amsterdam, I can look back and see how intention, openness, and community transformed an unfamiliar place into home. For anyone navigating life abroad, my suggestion is simple:

Say yes when you can. Reach out even when it feels awkward. Try something new. And give connection time. You never know what conversation, activity, or shared cup of coffee might become the anchor that helps you belong.

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