
Right here on the Prinsengracht, you're standing at the heart of the Jordaan. Look around. Narrow brick facades leaning gently over the canal, a bicycle chained to a railing, the smell of fresh coffee drifting out of a café door. This is exactly what real Jordaan life looks like, and it hasn't changed all that much.
Back in the 17th century, this was a working-class neighbourhood. Labourers, traders and immigrants poured into Amsterdam during its golden age of trade, and many of them ended up here. French Huguenots settled in too, and some believe they gave the Jordaan its name, possibly from "jardin", the French word for garden. The streets around you were named after flowers, which feels fitting when you see the window boxes bursting with colour.
The neighbourhood has always had a strong identity. It produced musical legends like Willeke Alberti and Johnny Jordaan, and yes, also the infamous Willem Holleeder, who famously kidnapped Heineken heir Freddy Heineken.
Today the Jordaan is calmer but still deeply alive. The markets, the hidden courtyards, the cafés tucked into side streets. Take your time here. There's no rush.
Any feedback for this story?