Every trip I take starts with curiosity.

Living in Amsterdam has been an incredible excuse to explore one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, but after a few years I realised something. Every time I looked at a map of the Netherlands, there were dozens of places I had never visited, all within easy reach by train. It felt almost wrong to keep flying across Europe while knowing so little about the country I now call home.

Amersfoort had quietly been sitting on my list for months.

I knew it was one of the oldest cities in the Netherlands, but beyond that I knew very little, and I wanted to keep it that way. I've realised I enjoy arriving somewhere without carrying too many expectations. Reading every article before a trip often means spending the day confirming what someone else has already told you. I prefer letting a city introduce itself.

That Saturday, Arun and I left from Sloterdijk. Somewhere along the way we realised we had boarded a Sprinter instead of the faster Intercity. At first I thought we had simply chosen the slower option, but by the second or third stop I realised I actually preferred it. The train paused in towns like Weesp and Naarden, places I had already visited and instantly recognised through the window. It reminded me how connected everything is in the Netherlands. Every station becomes another possibility, another city waiting for a free afternoon. This time we stayed on the train, but I liked knowing that, on another day, I could simply step off and begin another story.

The weather seemed to understand exactly what photographers hope for. It was warm without being uncomfortable, with soft sunlight that disappeared behind the clouds every now and then, giving the streets a gentle, even light. It was one of those days that quietly encourages you to stay outside a little longer.

The walk from the station to the historic centre takes around ten minutes, long enough to wonder whether the city will surprise you or simply become another pleasant place to spend the afternoon. Then Koppelpoort appeared.

I stopped almost instinctively.

There are places that are beautiful in photographs, and then there are places that make you forget to take one for a few seconds. The medieval gate stood over the water like the entrance to another century, and before I even crossed it I found myself wondering how many people had walked through those same walls over the last hundreds of years.

Near the entrance, three people dressed in traditional clothing were welcoming visitors. They were already chatting with another visitor, so we smiled and continued walking, but I remember thinking afterwards that I should have stopped to say hello. Some of the best memories while travelling begin with conversations you never planned to have.

Just behind the gate there is a map of the historic centre. I almost walked straight past it, but I'm glad I didn't. It became one of those small moments that quietly changed the rest of the afternoon. Looking at the map wasn't about finding directions. It was about understanding where I was standing before disappearing into streets that had existed for centuries.

Once we crossed the gate, we forgot about the map almost immediately.

That seems to happen every time I travel.

We stopped whenever something caught our attention. Sometimes it was an old doorway, sometimes the reflections in a canal, sometimes a house leaning just enough to make us wonder how long it had been standing there. Arun and I spent most of the afternoon talking about architecture, pointing at windows, roofs and brickwork, trying to imagine how people had lived in these streets hundreds of years ago.

Amersfoort reminded me a little of Delft, but with a quieter rhythm. It never felt overwhelmed by visitors. It simply felt lived in. People were sitting outside cafés, cycling home, opening their front doors, carrying shopping bags. The city didn't feel like it had been prepared for tourists. It felt like we had simply been invited into somebody else's everyday life.

One of my favourite moments happened completely by accident.

We were walking towards Hof, looking for somewhere to have lunch, when we heard music echoing through one of the streets. Without even discussing it, we both changed direction.

A samba band had taken over the street.

I don't remember deciding to take my camera out. Suddenly it was already in my hands, while my Insta360 was recording with the other. The musicians noticed me almost immediately. One after another, they smiled directly into the lens, laughing while they continued playing. Looking back, I think that's exactly why I enjoy travelling without a strict itinerary. The best moments are rarely the ones you planned.

Eventually we made our way back to Hof and chose Monalisa almost by instinct. It looked welcoming, and when we discovered the terrace at the back, overlooking one of the canals, the decision was made.

Lunch service had already finished, so instead of sitting down for a full meal we ordered a few snacks and something to drink. It turned out to be exactly what the afternoon needed. While we were sitting there, people quietly paddled past on stand-up paddleboards. I remember watching them disappear after passing the restaurant and thinking how different the city must feel from the water. My camera was tucked safely inside my bag, and for once I didn't reach for it. Not every memory needs to become a photograph.

Later that afternoon we found ourselves walking through Muurhuizen, one of the oldest and most beautiful streets in the city. The atmosphere there felt different again. Quieter. Slower. The houses seemed to lean gently towards one another, and every few metres there was another detail worth stopping for.

That was where we met a resident.

Most of his conversation with Arun was in Dutch, so I couldn't follow every word, but I didn't need a translation to understand how much he loved his city. He pointed at old stones built into the walls, explained how parts of the street still carried traces of centuries of history, and proudly mentioned that one of the cafés nearby had been welcoming visitors for around five hundred years. More than the historical facts themselves, what stayed with me was his enthusiasm. There is something incredibly special about listening to someone speak about the place they call home with genuine affection.

As we slowly made our way back towards the station, I realised that Amersfoort had given me exactly what I had hoped for. This trip was never about following a checklist or visiting famous landmarks. It was to enjoy the afternoon without scripts.

It reminded me that some of the most rewarding places aren't necessarily the ones everyone is talking about. Sometimes they're simply the places that patiently wait for your curiosity to catch up with them.

I boarded the train back to Amsterdam with a full memory card and the feeling that I had only scratched the surface. I know I'll return one day, because Amersfoort feels like one of those cities that quietly reveals a little more of itself every time you visit.

I think that's the best reason to come back.

Until next time from Amsterdam,

Joanna

Your Vacation Photographer in Amsterdam