It was January 2014. From the beginning of that month, I would have to commit to a Dutch language course, every Tuesday and Thursday evening, at a building called De Potgieter, located at a pretty square in Amsterdam West. I had finished a beginner’s course around one year before that. The municipality of Amsterdam, who was paying for my studies, had stated I could not postpone the attendance of the second level anymore. Otherwise, they would stop financing me. Sounded fair. It was a now or never situation, thus. I was hoping it’d work.
It took us 15 minutes to order a drink, have it, and get out as fast as we had walked in. That bar was not our cup of tea. Walking out, I noticed something strange with the weight of my bag. I immediately understood what was missing. My laptop. That idea of having the last drink at some random shitty bar in the crowded city center had been VERY UNFORTUNATE.
In the beggining there was Carlota. This is the short story about how I met my first friend in Amsterdam.