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A postcard from Amsterdam, where people, myself included, are making a mad dash to the airport

Amsterdam - getty
Amsterdam - getty

At times, during my month working remotely from Amsterdam, things have often felt a bit too good to be true – a bit “unpandemicky” (new word). There have been no snotty side-glances on pavements, no “excuse mes” because you can’t understand what on earth somebody is saying through a face mask. Life in Amsterdam has been, just about, entirely normal.

But, as it turns out, it has indeed been a bit too good to be true. When I arrived, in mid-July, daily cases were lower than 100 and the number of new cases per 100,000 was around five – a fact that informed my decision to come over with a friend to live and work in the Jordaan neighbourhood for a while.

However, the numbers were soon to rise. Earlier this week the Netherlands recorded 779 cases – its highest tally since April 24, and there are now 40 new cases per 100,000. By comparison, the UK is at 18 per 100,000.

It comes as no real surprise, then, that as of 4am tomorrow, along with France, Malta and a few other countries, the Netherlands will be etched onto the UK’s quarantine red-list with the FCO advising against all but essential travel to the country. The 14-day period of self-isolation is something that I will be dodging by the skin of my teeth when I board the 7.30pm from Schiphol to Gatwick this evening.

Which is fortunate. As I write this, the only pre-quarantine tickets (ie, those leaving today) available from Schiphol to London will set you back £464 with British Airways. The only option to Manchester is £432. Birmingham is £421. It goes on. Whether these airlines are profiteering on the back of quarantine panic, or simply selling the very ‘highest tier’ of tickets due to limited availability, is worth some scrutiny.

But what I leave behind is a country that is dealing with Covid-19 in its own, very Dutch way – almost typically stubborn in its approach. And I know that the Dutch won’t mind me saying this, since frankness is as central to life here as bitterballs and bicycles.

My interactions with Dutch people – meeting friends of friends, expats and those who take part in a football meet-up called ‘Terrible Football’ – have come with considerably less fear or anxiety than I have experienced in the UK. Hugs and handshakes are, at least among the young people I have met, rarely seen as taboo.

With the exception of one ferry trip to Noord and leaving Schiphol on arrival, I have also not needed to wear a face covering once. Last week, the Dutch government rolled out mandatory face coverings in the busiest parts of Amsterdam which – unless you are a sex tourist, shopaholic or a paralytic Brit-on-Tour – you probably wouldn't bother to venture within anyway. You also have to wear coverings on public transport, something which is easily avoided in a city best traversed on foot or two wheels.

In bars and restaurants, fairly limited social distancing is taking place. The most obvious I experienced was at the hipster waterside bar, Waterkant, where benches have been separated by an inoffensive sheet of perspex glass. Another little café told me and a couple of friends that we had to move to a different table, so we weren’t too close to a neighbouring one. At the most extreme, there is also the dystopian vision of miniature social distancing ‘greenhouses’ at Mediamatic Eten, which you have to feel is more of a stunt than anything else.

Amsterdam - getty
Amsterdam - getty

Some (not all) establishments ask you to scribble your name on a bit of paper, although you have to wonder whether the pen used to do this is, in the scheme of things, in fact more detrimental in terms of reducing the spread of Covid-19. Either way, I am yet to have shown Covid-19 symptoms and I am yet to have received a call from one of these places, telling me to stay indoors for two weeks.

There is wider analysis to be done regarding the Netherlands’ management of Covid-19, beyond the narrative of “they’re being too relaxed, so things are getting worse”. One consideration is that deaths here remain extremely low – an average of two per day, right now. When cases were this high back in April, that number was over 100. This suggests that the virus is largely spreading among the younger population, who are at a lower risk of dying from the wretched thing.

So how will the Dutch cope without us for the coming weeks, and probably months? Many locals will probably be thankful for a bit more peace and quiet in the (admittedly, already comparably pretty quiet) central areas of Amsterdam. It really is divine, without the crowds. Businesses on the inner circuit of canals, more reliant on tourist trade, may feel something of a downturn in custom.

But I suspect that, like a Dutch person sitting upright on a bicycle, whistling as they pedal up a steep little bridge and then free-wheel back down the other side, things will continue to tick along as normal here in the Netherlands. I will miss it.