The KLM flight descended through gray clouds, and Amsterdam appeared below—a sprawling city of canals and red-brick buildings, church spires and modern glass towers. Andrei pressed his forehead against the window, Elena's hand in his, both of them silent as their new home came into view.
"It's really happening," Elena whispered.
"It's really happening."
They'd spent the past three weeks wrapping up their lives in Bucharest. Emotional goodbyes with teammates, a tearful farewell with Andrei's mother (who promised to visit once he was settled), final dinners at their favorite restaurants. FCSB had thrown him a farewell ceremony, presenting him with a framed jersey and a highlight reel that had made him cry.
Now, as the plane touched down at Schiphol Airport, that chapter was closing. A new one was beginning.
Marc Overmars met them personally at arrivals—a gesture that surprised Andrei. At most clubs, the director of football didn't pick up new signings from the airport.
"Welcome to Amsterdam!" Overmars greeted them warmly, shaking hands and helping with luggage. "How was the flight?"
"Good, thank you," Andrei replied in careful English. He'd been practicing religiously, knowing the Dutch all spoke English fluently.
"And you must be Elena," Overmars said, switching to Elena's perfect English. "Andrei told us you're a journalist. We're happy to have you both here."
The drive into the city was fascinating. Everything looked different from Romania—cleaner, more organized, bicycles everywhere. The architecture was distinctive: narrow townhouses leaning slightly, as if whispering to each other across the canals.
"Ajax has arranged temporary accommodation for you," Overmars explained as he drove. "A furnished apartment near the stadium for your first month. Then you can house hunt properly."
"That's very generous," Elena said.
"We take care of our players. When you're settled and happy, you perform better. Simple philosophy."
The temporary apartment was in Amsterdam-Noord, across the IJ river from the city center. Modern, spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. After the cramped studios in Bucharest, it felt palatial.
"I'll leave you to settle in," Overmars said at the door. "Andrei, you report to De Toekomst training complex on Monday at 9 AM. Here's the address. Take the weekend to adjust to the city, get over any jet lag, relax."
After he left, Andrei and Elena stood in the middle of the empty apartment, surrounded by suitcases, slightly overwhelmed.
"We're in Amsterdam," Andrei said, stating the obvious.
"We're in Amsterdam," Elena echoed.
Then they both laughed—slightly hysterical, exhausted laughter. They'd actually done it. Left Romania, left everything familiar, taken the leap.
That first night, they ordered Indonesian takeaway (a Dutch tradition, they'd learned), ate on the floor because they hadn't bought furniture yet, and fell asleep in each other's arms as boats passed on the canal outside.
New Location: Amsterdam
Status: Settling in
Challenge: Cultural adjustment
The weekend was exploration. Despite jet lag and exhaustion, they couldn't resist discovering their new city.
Saturday morning, they rented bicycles—when in Amsterdam, do as the Dutch do. The bike shop owner, a friendly man in his sixties, sized Andrei up immediately.
"You're tall, athletic. Footballer?"
"Yes, actually. Just signed with Ajax."
The man's eyes lit up. "Ajax! Welcome, welcome! I've had season tickets for forty years. What position?"
"Attacking midfielder."
"Ah, like Sneijder, like Van der Vaart. Good, good." He gave them a discount and wished them luck.
They cycled through the city, getting lost repeatedly but not caring. Past the Anne Frank House, along the Prinsengracht canal, through the Jordaan neighborhood with its art galleries and cafés. Everything felt foreign and exciting—street signs in Dutch, the smell of stroopwafels from market stalls, the constant ring of bicycle bells.
For lunch, they found a brown café near Dam Square—the traditional Dutch pub with dark wood and stained glass. Elena ordered bitterballen (fried meatballs), while Andrei tried a uitsmijter (a sandwich with eggs and ham).
"This is so different from Romania," Elena observed, looking around at the diverse crowd—Dutch, Turkish, Moroccan, tourists from everywhere.
"Everything is different. The language, the food, the architecture, even the people are taller."
"You're 1.82 meters. You're not exactly short."
"Here I feel average. In Romania I was tall."
They spent the afternoon at the Rijksmuseum, walking through rooms filled with Rembrandt and Vermeer. Neither was particularly into art, but it felt important to understand Dutch culture, Dutch history, the weight of what "being Dutch" meant.
That evening, exhausted from cycling and culture, they found a quiet spot on the canal near their apartment. The sun was setting—around 10 PM, because this far north the days were incredibly long in summer.
"Are you nervous about Monday?" Elena asked.
"Terrified. What if I'm not good enough? What if the Eredivisie is too hard? What if—"
"Stop. You're a 75-rated player who just won a championship. You're good enough."
"The system said my strength is still only 65. The Dutch game is more physical than I expected from the research."
"Then you'll get stronger. Ajax has world-class training facilities. They'll develop you properly."
Andrei nodded, but the anxiety remained. This wasn't Romania anymore. This was a different level, different expectations, different everything.
Mental State: Anxious
Composure: 62/99 (affecting confidence)
Adjustment Period: Beginning
Monday morning arrived too quickly. Andrei dressed in the training gear Ajax had provided—sleek, professional, with the famous red and white logo. He looked at himself in the mirror and barely recognized the person staring back.
Elena drove him to De Toekomst (which means "The Future" in Dutch—Ajax's training complex on the outskirts of Amsterdam). She'd rented a small car for practical purposes, though she preferred cycling.
"Text me after training," she said, kissing him goodbye. "And Andrei? Be yourself. That's who they signed."
The training complex was impressive—multiple pristine pitches, a modern gym, medical facilities that looked like something from a science fiction film. Young players were everywhere, all wearing Ajax gear, all looking confident and athletic.
Andrei checked in at reception, and a staff member escorted him to the first-team dressing room. His heart hammered as the door opened.
The room was full of players—some he recognized from television, others unknown. Conversations in Dutch, English, and other languages filled the air. Everyone stopped when he entered.
"Ah, the new guy!" A tall, smiling player approached—Joel Veltman, a Dutch defender. "You must be Andrei. Welcome, man. I'm Joel."
"Nice to meet you."
"Where are you from again? Romania?"
"Yes, Iași originally, but I played for FCSB in Bucharest."
"Cool, cool. Your English is good."
"Thank you. I've been practicing."
Other players introduced themselves. Hakim Ziyech (wait, hadn't he been sold? Andrei remembered reading about that), Kasper Dolberg (the young Danish striker), Matthijs de Ligt (the teenage center-back prodigy), and others. Everyone was welcoming, friendly, but also sizing him up—this was professional football, after all.
The head coach, Peter Bosz, called a team meeting before training. He was intense, focused, speaking rapidly in Dutch before switching to English for Andrei's benefit.
"Andrei, welcome to Ajax. We play attacking football—possession-based, high pressing, quick transitions. You'll need to adapt to our system, but we believe you have the intelligence to do so. Questions?"
"No, coach. Thank you."
"Good. Let's see what you can do."
The training session was unlike anything Andrei had experienced. The intensity was FCSB-level, but the quality was markedly higher. Every pass was crisp, every movement purposeful. The ball rarely touched the ground for more than two touches.
They started with rondos—possession drills in tight spaces. Andrei was put in the middle initially, tasked with winning the ball back. The players around him—Veltman, Ziyech, midfielder Donny van de Beek—moved the ball so quickly he barely got close.
System Analysis:
Training Intensity: Very High
Technical Level: Superior to Romania
Current Performance: Below average
After ten frustrating minutes, he finally intercepted a pass through smart positioning rather than pace. Small victory.
They moved to tactical drills—working on attacking patterns, defensive shape, transitions. Bosz was constantly coaching, correcting, demanding more. The Dutch way was direct—if you made a mistake, they told you immediately, no sugar-coating.
"Andrei, you're too slow recognizing the press trigger!" Bosz shouted after a defensive drill. "When the opponent receives with his back turned, that's your cue. Faster thinking!"
By the end of the two-hour session, Andrei was exhausted—physically and mentally. The level was significantly higher than Liga 1.
Training Session Rating: 6.2/10
Areas Needing Improvement: Pace of thought, defensive intensity, tactical adaptation
In the showers afterward, Dolberg approached him.
"Don't worry about today," the Danish striker said in English. "Everyone struggles their first week. The Ajax way takes time to learn."
"I felt slow. Like I was thinking too much."
"That's normal. Soon it becomes automatic. Just keep working."
"Thanks."
"Hey, some of us are getting burgers tonight. Want to come? Help you meet the squad better."
Andrei almost declined—exhaustion pulling at him—but forced himself to accept. Building relationships mattered.
"Sure. That sounds good."
The burgers place was in De Pijp, a trendy neighborhood south of the center. Six players showed up—Dolberg, Veltman, Van de Beek, young midfielder Frenkie de Jong, and two others.
They talked about football, about Amsterdam, about everything. The Dutch were informal, direct, funny. They teased each other constantly but without malice.
"So you turned down Inter Milan to come here?" Van de Beek asked, incredulous. "That's either very smart or very stupid."
"I wanted playing time. Development. Ajax offered that."
"Smart choice," Frenkie de Jong said. The 20-year-old midfielder had a quiet intensity about him. "Big clubs bench young players. Ajax trusts youth."
"How long have you been here?" Andrei asked him.
"Since I was six. Came through the academy." Frenkie smiled. "Ajax is special, man. You'll see. The pressure is intense, but the support is real. We develop players here—it's what we do."
The conversation shifted to life in Amsterdam—best neighborhoods, where to shop, how to survive Dutch weather (rain, always rain), the coffee shop culture (legal marijuana, which Andrei and the other players avoided for professional reasons).
"Where are you living?" Veltman asked.
"Temporary place in Noord. We need to find something permanent."
"Noord is good. Quiet, safe. You'll want a place near the training ground probably. Cuts down commute time."
After dinner, cycling home through the dark Amsterdam streets, Andrei felt slightly better. The training had been humbling, but the welcome had been genuine. He could do this. It would just take time.
Social Integration: Beginning
Team Acceptance: Positive
Confidence: Still building
Elena was waiting up, working on her laptop when he arrived.
"How was it?"
"Hard. Really hard. The level is so much higher than Romania."
"Expected. What specifically was difficult?"
"Everything moves faster. The thinking, the passing, the pressing. I felt half a step behind all day."
"First day. Give yourself time." She closed her laptop. "Tell me about the players."
He described his teammates, the training, the dinner. Elena listened carefully, asking smart questions, helping him process.
"They sound welcoming. That's good. Means the culture is healthy."
"The coach is intense though. Very direct."
"Dutch culture. They value honesty over politeness. You'll get used to it."
They talked until past midnight, Elena helping him decompress. Finally, exhausted, they went to bed.
As Andrei lay in the darkness, the system displayed an unexpected message:
ADAPTATION PERIOD: ACTIVE
Estimated time to full integration: 8-12 weeks
Temporary Rating Adjustment: -2.0 (environmental unfamiliarity)
Current Effective Rating: 73.1/99
This is normal. Stay patient. Keep working.
So even the system acknowledged this would be hard. Somehow that was comforting—knowing the struggle was expected, not a sign of failure.
Beside him, Elena's breathing deepened into sleep. Outside, a canal boat passed, its motor humming softly.
Amsterdam. His new home. His new challenge.
Tomorrow he'd wake up and do it again. And the day after. And the day after that.
Until it stopped feeling foreign and started feeling like home.
End of Week 1 in Amsterdam
Status: Adjusting
Challenges: Many
Support: Strong
Future: Uncertain but hopeful