The fresh smell of coffee soon wafted through the apartment, the smell that separates night from day. – Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki
I still remember my first trip to Amsterdam. I must have been 16 or so, maybe even younger. My dad and I went on a motorcycle trip from his town in Northern Germany to Amsterdam. I’m not sure how long the trip lasted but I still vividly recall sitting on the back of his motorcycle thinking this was the coolest thing ever. Until we arrived in Amsterdam. Because my dad preferred to stay in a hotel outside the city. So we had to drive to the city centre fully equipped. Leather jacket and pants, helmet and all the weight that comes with it. Considering that at the tender age of 15/16 I was tall, thin and lanky, leather clothes didn’t look very cool on me. Needless to say, I felt slightly embarrassed walking the streets of hip and trendy Amsterdam with an hideous outfit and my dad by my side. …