The view from my bedroom window said it all; ducks swimming lazily past on one of the vast maze of canals that make up this unique city. I watched them in the morning, and then joined them later, using a canal boat pass instead of a bus pass, to go and experience the first day’s sights and sounds of Amsterdam. First day in any great city is always shopping day, and what girl wouldn’t love a city jam-packed with streets dedicated to diamonds, flower stalls, and chocolate? All in all it is a little bit of a romantic paradise, even if you are, as I was, only romantically dreaming. In the end I picked out some tulip bulbs for the garden back home (which came out a beautiful rich red in the spring). So I didn’t quite buy the ultra rare yellow diamond ring that weekend, but who knows, it might still be there when I go back. Day two was dedicated to a fine cultural experience. The Vincent Van Gogh Museum was in fact my main excuse for a visit, as I just 'had' to see Van Gogh's paintings for a research project. My theory was that Mr V. V. Gogh ...

Sir Walter Raleigh once said that 'romance is a love affair in other than domestic surroundings'. But as I passed winding canals and leafy streets with my lover, through a city that varied from fun and seedy; to cool and quirky with each turn, all I wanted was a life here, together in Amsterdam. To be part of the constant buzz created by the Dutch who cycle and eat and flirt on these streets. Now if you have visions of Amsterdam being all elegant tall houses leaning into each other, then first impressions will disappoint. The only things falling over on the main street Damrak, are the drug dealers and stags swarming outside saunas and souvenir shops. So head for the Jordaan. The Notting Hill of Amsterdam, this district has it all. The myriad canals meander around handsome houses, drawing you past windows displaying Mexican kitsch (Kitsch Kitchen, Rozengracht 8-12) and Dutch designer (SPRMRKT, Rozengracht 191-193); via antique shops where impossibly smooth owners languor over a Gauloises. And there are flowers everywhere: on rooftop gardens, hidden courtyards, covering designer houseboats.   The houseboats that sprinkle this area's waterways are a voyeur's dream. Many should be in Wallpaper* magazine, all floor to ceiling windows ...

I woke up dressed, four walls encasing me. There were three young girls looking at me questioningly and talking in their mother tongue, clearly this room wasn’t my own but I had a roof above me, a carpet directly beneath me and the throbbing rattle inside my head was enough to make me appreciate my surroundings. At this primitive stage of the morning I was labeling the shelter as a successful end to last night. It was late January and I had begun a brief winter soiree with the liberal hub of Europe, improvised at late notice due to some unexpected time off work. My experiences in the Dutch capital had begun the day before with a tender innocence that felt unfamiliar as I indolently crawled my way out of the hostel.If there was one thing that set Amsterdam apart from other cities it would be, for me, the fact it manages to intertwine a metropolis of such euphoric intensity with a city steeped in such an astounding antiquity. It seemed to be a city of two poles, the serenity of a swan preening itself in the still tranquility of a canal sitting effortlessly against the streets of rapture, and the endless ...

Often, during musings with like-minded compatriots, conversations turn to the question, ‘Where, if you could choose anywhere in the world, would you want to be right now? ’I will always answer Amsterdam, unequivocally by far my favourite city to date. I first discovered the little gem in the pages of the poignant Anne Frank memoir, which I read at the age of 12. The tragic ordeal of Anne Frank absorbed me at that tender age and inspired my imagination to explore the possibilities of what lay beyond the confines of the achterhuis. I waited many years to experience Amsterdam in person and travel the streets on foot, and of course by bike. It was with some trepidation that I agreed with a close acquaintance to visit Amsterdam as part of a short stint round Europe. Said acquaintance had visited before and told tales of raucous behaviour where morals were haphazardly strewn in the wake of young men tasting the darker side of the city. It seemed too hardcore for me. Yet within moments of stepping out of the train station and into the throng of bikes, moving expertly through the traffic, watching a slightly decrepit tram rattle by I knew that I ...