Going Dutch

It's not been quite a week yet but steadily I am beginning to get settled back in into my Amsterdam life. So many things are still the same that at times it is as if I have never left. The shops I knew are all still there, I even recognise plenty of faces in the neighbourhood and much of Amsterdam is still in its by now familiar construction chaos. Still, there are a few things in my own habits and behaviour that are subtle reminders that I have been away for quite a while. I need to learn to look the other way again when crossing a street. I need to remember again to say my own name first when answering the phone. I need to go back again to using the magnetic strip on my bank card rather than the chip. I need to use a strippenkaart again, not an Oyster card. I need to start yelling at cyclists who nearly run me down again, instead of saying "Pardon me". I need to become that cyclist again, not the silly pedestrian. In short, I have to work on my 'inburgering'.

There is one change in the neighbourhood, however, that suddenly made me feel that perhaps I have taken a piece of the UK with me to Amsterdam. The squatted house around the corner suggests Banksy has gone Amsterdam too: