Amsterdam, Netherlands
Early July 2017
The first two weeks at Ajax were humbling. Every training session reminded Andrei how much he still had to learn. The Eredivisie played faster, demanded quicker decisions, and punished hesitation mercilessly.
But slowly, incrementally, things began to click.
Training Progress - Week 2:
Overall Effective Rating: 73.1 → 73.6
Tactical Adaptation: +0.3
Passing (Ajax System): +0.2
Understanding: Improving
By the end of his second week, Peter Bosz pulled him aside after training.
"Better," the coach said simply. "You're starting to see the patterns. Keep working on your defensive positioning—we press as a unit here, not as individuals. But the technical quality is there."
"Thank you, coach."
"You'll be in the squad for our first friendly next week. Probably twenty minutes off the bench. Show me what you can do in match conditions."
Andrei's heart leaped. His first match in an Ajax shirt, even if just a friendly.
That evening, he shared the news with Elena over dinner at their temporary apartment. She'd been working from home, writing articles for Romanian and Dutch outlets, adjusting to her own new reality.
"That's amazing! When is it?"
"Next Wednesday. Against a second division team, so not glamorous, but still."
"Every journey starts somewhere." She raised her wine glass. "To first matches in new countries."
They clinked glasses, and Andrei felt a wave of gratitude. Having Elena here made everything bearable. On hard days when the training felt impossible, when the language barrier frustrated him, when homesickness crept in—she was there, steady and supportive.
"We need to find a house," Elena said, changing subjects. "We can't live in this temporary place forever."
"I know. I've been so focused on training—"
"Which is fine. But we need a home, Andrei. A real one. Somewhere we can build a life, not just exist."
She was right. They'd been in Amsterdam two weeks and hadn't even started looking properly.
"This weekend," Andrei promised. "We'll dedicate the whole weekend to house hunting."
Saturday morning arrived clear and sunny—a rarity in Amsterdam, everyone kept telling them. They'd arranged viewings for five properties through a relocation specialist Ajax had recommended.
The first property was in Amsterdam-Zuid, the affluent southern district. A modern apartment in a new building, all glass and steel, with a gym and underground parking.
"Very nice," the estate agent said in perfect English. "Many international professionals live here. Very convenient."
But it felt sterile, impersonal. Like a hotel, not a home.
The second was in De Pijp, the trendy neighborhood where Andrei had gone for burgers. A renovated townhouse split into apartments, with high ceilings and original features.
"This has character," Elena observed, running her hand along exposed brick walls.
But it was far from the training ground—forty minutes by bike, longer by car in traffic. Not practical.
The third was in Amstelveen, a suburb just south of Amsterdam proper. A ground-floor apartment with a small garden, quiet and residential.
"Good for families," the agent noted. "Very safe area, excellent schools."
"We don't have children," Andrei pointed out.
"Not yet," Elena said with a smile. "But thinking ahead doesn't hurt."
The fourth property was in Watergraafsmeer, east of the center. Another modern apartment, nice but unremarkable.
By early afternoon, they were tired and discouraged. Nothing had felt right.
"One more," the agent said, checking her list. "In Oud-West, near Vondelpark. It's slightly above your budget, but I think you should see it."
They drove to the western district, parking on a tree-lined street near Amsterdam's most famous park. The building was a converted canal house—traditional Dutch architecture, narrow and tall, with large windows and a distinctive stepped gable.
"It's a two-bedroom apartment on the second and third floors," the agent explained as she unlocked the door. "Renovated five years ago but kept original features."
They climbed narrow stairs—typical of old Amsterdam houses—and emerged into a sun-filled living space. Wooden floors, white walls, exposed beams on the ceiling. Large windows overlooked a quiet canal. The kitchen was modern but fit seamlessly with the historic feel.
Upstairs, two bedrooms—one large, one smaller that could be an office. A renovated bathroom with both shower and bathtub. And a small terrace accessible from the main bedroom, just big enough for a table and chairs.
Andrei walked onto the terrace and looked out over the canal. Bicycles passed below, a couple walked their dog, a canal boat glided past. The city hummed with quiet life.
"This is it," he said quietly.
Elena joined him on the terrace. "You're sure? It's €2,200 per month—more than the others."
"I'm sure. This feels like home."
They stood together, looking out at their potential new neighborhood. The agent discreetly gave them space.
"We could be happy here," Elena said. "I can see us having coffee on this terrace in the mornings. You coming home from training. Me working in that second bedroom. Actually living, not just surviving."
"Let's take it."
The paperwork took a week to finalize—credit checks, contract signing, deposit payment. Ajax's relocation specialist helped navigate the Dutch bureaucracy, which was efficient but complicated.
On July 15th, 2017, they received the keys to their first real home together.
Moving day was chaos. They'd bought furniture from IKEA—the universal language of young people furnishing their first place. The apartment filled with flat-pack boxes, instruction manuals in incomprehensible Swedish, and Allen keys.
Several Ajax teammates offered to help. Matthijs de Ligt arrived with his girlfriend, strong and cheerful, helping carry the sofa up the narrow stairs. Kasper Dolberg came with a drill and basic handyman skills. Even Joel Veltman stopped by with a housewarming gift—a proper Dutch coffee maker.
"You can't live in the Netherlands without good coffee," Veltman declared.
By evening, the apartment was taking shape. Furniture assembled (mostly correctly), boxes unpacked (mostly), artwork hung (slightly crooked). It was chaotic and imperfect and absolutely theirs.
After everyone left, Andrei and Elena collapsed on their new sofa, surveying their new home.
"We did it," Elena said, exhausted.
"We did it," Andrei agreed.
That night, they ordered pizza (which the Dutch, inexplicably, liked to eat with forks and knives), ate sitting on the floor of their living room, and watched the canal through their large windows as evening turned to night.
"This is really our home now," Andrei said. "Not temporary. Not borrowed. Ours."
"How does it feel?"
"Terrifying. Exciting. Right."
They christened their new bedroom that night, making love in their own bed in their own home for the first time. Afterward, lying tangled in sheets, Andrei felt something settle in his chest—a sense of belonging he hadn't realized he'd been missing.
Housing Secured: Oud-West, Amsterdam
Monthly Rent: €2,200
Status: Settled
Psychological Impact: Positive (+0.2 to all mental attributes)
Effective Rating: 73.6 → 73.9
The next morning, they explored their new neighborhood properly. Oud-West was diverse, artistic, alive. Turkish bakeries next to vintage clothing shops, Indonesian restaurants beside traditional brown cafés. Vondelpark was a five-minute walk—perfect for morning runs.
They found a local market on Ten Katemarkt, where vendors sold fresh produce, cheese, fish, flowers. An elderly Dutch woman selling tulips tried to teach Andrei basic Dutch phrases.
"Goedemorgen—good morning. Alstublieft—please. Dank u wel—thank you."
He practiced dutifully, mangling the pronunciation. She laughed kindly and gave him extra tulips.
They found a local gym called TrainMore, just ten minutes by bike. Andrei signed up immediately—he needed to build his strength, which remained his biggest physical weakness.
Current Physical Stats:
Pace: 76/99 (good)
Strength: 65/99 (needs improvement)
Stamina: 70/99 (adequate)
The gym had everything—free weights, machines, a pool, even a sauna. The trainer who gave him the initial tour recognized him.
"You play for Ajax, yes? I saw the announcement."
"Yes, just joined."
"We get many Ajax players here. Good gym for athletes. I can design strength program for you if you want. Help build muscle safely."
"That would be great."
They set up sessions three times per week—focused on building functional strength without compromising his mobility or speed. The trainer, Pieter, had worked with professional athletes before and understood the specific demands.
That afternoon, they bought bicycles—real ones this time, not rentals. The Dutch were obsessed with bicycles, using them for everything. Andrei chose a simple black bike; Elena picked a Dutch-style omafiets with a basket and bell.
"Now we're real Amsterdammers," she joked, ringing her bell.
By Sunday evening, exhausted from a weekend of settling in, they sat on their small terrace watching the sunset (which happened around 10 PM in July). The canal reflected golden light, bicycles chimed past, the city hummed with peaceful evening energy.
"I could get used to this," Andrei said.
"I think we already are," Elena replied.
For the first time since arriving in the Netherlands, Andrei felt truly at home.