Dear Readers,
Some trips are relaxing. Some are chaotic. And some involve two women, a white cane, questionable train decisions, suspicious clouds, the smell of smoke, and enough bass vibrations to rearrange your internal organs. This was the third kind.
For months, I had been looking forward to seeing Pentatonix live in Amsterdam. I’ve followed them on YouTube since long before they became wildly famous, and despite being Deafblind, my love for music has never faded. If anything, music feels more important to me now than ever before. And Pentatonix? They’re one of my favorites because they prove you don’t need instruments to create absolute magic.
Since the concert at Ziggo Dome would end late, Jessy and I decided to do the sensible thing and book a room at Jazz in the City Amsterdam. Taking a train home at stupid o’clock is risky enough for sighted people. Add Deafblindness and a tiny village destination into the mix and suddenly “adventure” starts sounding a lot like “potential disaster.”
Check-in was at 3pm, but apparently we’re sophisticated now and no longer arrive dramatically the second the doors open. So we took a later train and arrived around an hour afterward instead. Just two girls, two backpacks, and my white cane — because forgetting that would immediately downgrade the trip into a survival documentary.
About halfway through the journey, things got… weird.
Out of the train window we spotted strange clouds hanging in the sky, and we heard the unmistakable screech of the Dutch NL Alert system going off on other people’s phones.
Not ours, of course.
Which meant logical brain didn’t activate at all.
Had our phones screamed at us too, we probably would’ve immediately gone:
“Oh dear. Danger. Fire. Apocalypse. Understandable.”
Instead we sat there casually observing the sky like confused pigeons.
Then we stepped off the train in Amsterdam and got absolutely slapped in the face by the smell of smoke.
Turns out there were large fires elsewhere in the country and the wind was carrying the smoke our way. It was the first time I’d ever experienced anything like that in real life, and it felt deeply surreal. Thankfully, we were perfectly safe and it didn’t interfere with our trip.
The hotel immediately restored all feelings of peace and civilization.
Jazz in the City Amsterdam is honestly the perfect location for anyone wanting their bed dangerously close to the Ziggo Dome. The room was immaculately clean, spacious, and blessed with accessible lighting that didn’t attempt to blind the blind person. A revolutionary concept, really.
There was also an incredibly comfortable chair by the window overlooking the square outside the Ziggo Dome. Jessy had great fun sitting there people-watching while I soaked up the atmosphere before the concert even started.
And then there was breakfast.
Dear reader… the eggs.
Why are hotel eggs usually dry little yellow disappointments? Why do they so often taste like sadness and conference rooms?
Not at Jazz in the City.
Those eggs were magnificent. Moist. Flavorful. Emotionally supportive.
I would genuinely return to that hotel just to eat breakfast again.
Before the show, we found a lovely restaurant where we could sit outside for dinner. I had pizza. Jessy also consumed food of some description, though I was apparently too focused on my own meal to remember what it actually was. We ended up chatting with the people at the next table, who were also there to see Pentatonix, and the excitement in the whole area was contagious.
Eventually we headed back to the hotel for a short rest before concert time.
And honestly? The convenience was glorious.
Out the hotel door, downstairs, across the square, and after a two-minute walk we were at the Ziggo Dome entrance. No stress. No complicated navigation. No exhausted nighttime panic afterward. Just pure convenience.
Inside, we checked out the merch stand, grabbed drinks, and found our seats.
And then the show started.
It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences you usually only dream about. Pentatonix somehow sound even better live than they do online, which honestly feels illegal for an a cappella group.
The bass coming from the tenor’s voice vibrated through my ribcage for almost the entire concert. I’m not exaggerating when I say I could FEEL the music physically moving through me. For someone with hearing loss, that feeling is incredibly special. Music becomes more than sound — it becomes movement, vibration, energy.
The group performed a mixture of recognizable hits and some of their own arrangements, and every single one sounded phenomenal.
The crowd helped make it magical too. Everyone was excited, happy, and fully committed to the experience without being obnoxious about it. And the people seated near us? Absolute angels.
Our seats were next to the stairs leading in and out of the row, and the people around us immediately noticed my white cane and understood exactly what it meant. Nobody repeatedly asked us to stand up to let them pass. In fact, they mostly stayed seated the entire time.
I felt so seen and understood in that moment.
It’s such a small thing, but accessibility often comes down to tiny acts of awareness and kindness. Those people probably have no idea how much more relaxed they made me feel.
So if by some miracle any of you were there and are reading this:
Thank you, kind humans.
The best part of staying next door to the venue was that we didn’t have to rush afterward. While thousands of people poured out into the night, we simply waited patiently until the crowds thinned out enough for us to leave safely.
Within minutes, we were back in our hotel room, reliving the concert, talking about favorite songs, and slowly winding down before sleep.
The next morning began with those glorious eggs and lovely breakfast conversations with other guests before we checked out.
But the adventure wasn’t over yet.
Instead of immediately heading home, we took the metro — another first-time experience for me — into the city to visit a camera shop. Somehow both Jessy and I managed to leave with brand new camera backpacks, which honestly feels like peak adult behavior.
No wild partying.
No reckless spending.
Just:
“We went to Amsterdam and bought practical storage solutions for photography equipment.”
I sincerely loved this trip.
The music, the atmosphere, the tiny moments of kindness from strangers, the laughter, the conversations, the excitement of trying new things… it all came together into one of those memories that quietly settles itself into your heart.
And now I can’t help but wonder…
What’s at the Ziggo Dome next year?
DonnieTown 