Apurva’s squatting adventures in Amsterdam, in March 1980
Amsterdam is exciting but accommodation isn’t cheap, so when the chance to squat comes up, I jump at the opportunity. This is an amazing building, next to the Concertgebouw (Amsterdam’s prestigious concert hall), and is owned by a bank. In fact, there are two buildings being squatted, next door to each other.
The ‘Krakersbond’ is the organisation that controls squatting and does research on a building before giving its support for it to be squatted. They have to decide if there is a good chance to prove that any proposed development can be challenged. It is then up to the owner to justify their plans.
I am allocated a large room on the first floor at the front of the building. I soon get a Dutch boyfriend. He claims he is a bank robber. He doesn’t appear particularly rich from it, although he does own a beautiful little house next to the canal. One day he brings me a bike. I don’t ask any questions. This is the most important form of transport in Amsterdam – and I need a bike.
I am told by friends that I can get all I need, apart from a mattress, right from the street. My friend who lives on a barge takes me walking around the streets to help me carry away whatever we can find. We need to set off in the early hours of the morning in order to get there before the vans arrive that tour to collect furniture to then sell on. I don’t quite believe it at first, but it’s true. I gather a table with matching chairs, a carpet and an easy chair… in one night.
I really don’t know how we manage to transport those back to the squat!
We are a motley crew of mostly sannyasins in the house. On the top floor is a very handsome Israeli man with his German partner and child. He makes good money doing the ‘Fucky, Fucky’ show in the middle of town. The only problem is that’s not so great for his partner. Having simulated sex on stage for so long, he arrives home very randy, and she must get up early to take their child to school.
I fantasise about making a fortune doing Peep Shows, and visit the Red Light district to get the feel of it. When I realise that the real money is made with personal one-to-one shows, I change my mind and opt for the role of chambermaid.
This involves joining an agency. I go to their office in the mornings and wait for work to come in. Here everyone can help themselves to coffee and… liquorice! I really love its salty flavour, something I’ve never tasted in the UK. And on Fridays, payday, there is free beer.
When a hotel requests a chambermaid I head off on my bike. The best places to work are the Victoria Hotel and the Student Hall of Residence, where the routine is relaxed and the staff friendly. With bigger hotels, like the Hilton, there is more possibility that a shortage of staff means a rush to get the rooms ready. At the Hall of Residence the staff are there for the season and head to the Canary Islands for the winter to camp. I plan to go there sometime as it sounds idyllic.
But back to the squat. The second floor houses an ex-Baader Meinhof terrorist with his partner and her child – quite an aggressive man.
Then there are two local sisters who, in our shared kitchen, refuse to wash their dirty pans and just hide them in the cupboard under the sink. At night they roll in drunk and make lots of noise. This is hard for me as I have to get up early for work.
There is also a French au-pair who lives in the room behind me.
After a few months the bank challenges our occupation.
The Krakersbond organise a meeting to allow the bank to put its case to the locals. It is a fantastically well-organised event. They all have the use of a back room in the Concertgebouw, a beautiful room with palm trees and mirrors. The bank must display their plans.
The event lasts all day, with musicians donating their time, first with classical music for the elderly, then playful music for mothers and children, and finally folk music in the evening. Each concert is followed by a presentation from both sides. In the evening there are so many people that those of us who need to get in and out of the hall to provide the refreshments, have to argue our case to get back in.
We are in an area which is notable for its elegant architecture and historical buildings. It is also one of the most affluent neighbourhoods in Amsterdam. When the locals see the glass monstrosity the bank is planning to build, they are furious.
The bank loses! They must sell the building to the local authority. I am amazed! Surely this couldn’t happen anywhere else but Holland.
What next for the squatters, or krakers as we are called?
Amazingly anyone who wishes to stay on will be allowed to decide what they wish to have – separate flats or communal accommodation – and a rent will be charged.
While the building is being adapted, the council will find accommodation for them. Nothing can happen immediately, though.
But for me, the tourist season is over, work is drying up, so it’s time to head back to the UK – and miss the chance of a flat in Amsterdam…
Featured image by Luca Lago on Unsplash
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