I moved to Amsterdam in August 2020 but amid the pandemic restrictions I still feel new to the city. With museums closed and events cancelled, it has been difficult to get situated in a new city. Right before this tour with Salim I had returned to Amsterdam after a few weeks at home in Barcelona. The restrictions and closure of museums and galleries in the Netherlands had put a complete stop to my work as an art critic and my reason for being in Amsterdam—to meet artists and learn about the local scene as a participant of De Appel’s Curatorial Programme. Instead there were always the same four walls, the really impersonal feeling of Zoom seminars that could be joined from anywhere in the world, and the strange sense of experiencing the world through a screen— something Salim’s tour aimed to fight against.

I met Salim Bayri through Ghita Skali, another Casablanca-born artist living in Amsterdam, whose work I had recently seen at De Ateliers and the Stedelijk Museum. Salim and Ghita had developed an exhibition together at Motel Spatie in Arnhem just before the lockdown which involved visitors eating sunflower seeds and spitting the husks on the floor—no longer an appropriate activity during the health crisis, but one that created a very interesting and complex commentary on participation, food, culture, and class. Sharing food and questioning the prescribed function of space through awkwardness and humor also become the focus for Salim’s tour.

Following Dutch health guidelines and advice to limit contact and avoid busy places, we can only participate in a very limited batch of socially distanced activities. Nevertheless, what transpires is an enjoyable day playing within the rules and the fine line between private and public space. We meet for coffee in the center of Amsterdam. At least, I have a coffee. Salim doesn’t like coffee. In a series of videos titled Coffee Reviews (2019–20) made together with the artist Lee McDonald, Salim reviewed the quality of various free coffees from different locations in the Netherlands without ever trying the drink.

The first location of the day—the Torensluis—is the widest bridge in the city. Inmates were originally kept in prisons underneath it, and later a parking lot was built on top of it. Today the prison is no longer used and a small pier creates a nice breakfast spot right by the lapping water.

This is our only typically touristic spot of the journey. Next, Salim leads the way by bicycle to Galerie Van Gelder, the gallery that represents his work. It is a classic gallery in Amsterdam, although one that I have unfortunately not yet been able to visit on the inside. It was founded by Kees van Gelder 40 years ago and gave the first solo shows in Amsterdam to artists including John M. Armleder, Olivier Mosset and Steven Parrino. I take a picture of Salim in front of the closed door. I will come back again to visit when they reopen. Very close by is a small petting zoo nestled on the Prinseneiland. Small pigs, goats, sheep, and rabbits live on prime real estate next to a beautiful canal. The day is sunny and warm, and the animals are enjoying running on the grass and munching food. We are not allowed to go inside the petting zoo due to Covid-19 restrictions, but we observe the animals from over the fence. Open or not, the caretakers are at work, feeding and cleaning up with or without visitors.

I have a moment of déjà vu from the very beginning of my time in Amsterdam. I had got in touch with an old friend, the painter Elizabeth De Witt, and she had taken me to a small garden directly next to the petting zoo. Unless you know about it, it’s hard to miss, but it is a lovely garden with a pier on the canal. When it is warm enough people jump into the canal. Salim and I sit on a sunny bench for a moment watching someone work on their boat. We reflect on the fact that many people in the Netherlands seem to suffer from burnout—but they are really not that busy. Maybe it’s something about the need to always appear occupied that produces it rather than a real workload? Maybe it’s something cultural? Salim suggested people aren’t really comfortable talking about their feelings here. Maybe I am experiencing a bit of a culture clash here because I talk too much and too honestly about my own feelings.

We cross Amsterdam and go down to the Southeast where Salim lives, and where the Rijksakademie is, where he has been a resident since 2019. We cycle through Haarlemerstraat and talk more about the society here in the Netherlands. There is a false idea that it is secular; there are indicators of Protestantism everywhere. Until as recently as the 1960s, Dutch society was segregated by religion in a social policy called “Pillarization.” Salim said that when the Netherlands declared independence from Spain in 1581 the names of all the churches changed. Rather than being named after saints, they gained matter-of-fact nomenclature: “old,” “new,” or cardinal directions. It’s a very practical place. The symbolism has been stripped away.

We arrive at the first exercise park on the itinerary, in the Plantage neighborhood. Even with the sunny day there are not too many people here. Groups of older residents are using these machines. Compared to my neighborhood in Nieuw-West, where all the machines use weights, these work well, are not broken, and even include instructions that have not been graffitied over or scratched off. We are full of energy, so we do the entire routine using all the machines. Our favorite, the “Air-walker,” makes you lunge in high steps and look like a cartoon character.

On our way to the second exercise gym we pass Salim’s house and beside a huge windmill. Next to the structure there is a bar which is a popular place with Rijksakademie residents. Salim suggests we stop for a drink. I want to stop even just to use the bathroom—finding a bathroom is a big problem in Coronavirus times! We see the menu and think we can get a snack before continuing. Kibbeling? A typical fried fish snack in the Netherlands. Salim says they are better from the Dappermarket. We could get a drink here and then go to the market for some Kibbeling. Yet only after parking our bikes do we realize that it is closed; plans foiled. Salim says that one of the things he misses most during the lockdown is spontaneity. Now you have to plan everything, reserve spots, check online if the place is open, and go back home to use the toilet.

We cycle on to the next location—another outdoor exercise gym. This one is a little bit further out of Amsterdam and is surrounded by public housing with more of a neighborhood vibe. There are similar machines but they are not as good quality as the previous site. The abs plank is angled way too high to be useful. I do a couple of sit ups from an absurdly tilted position. Young people are hanging out and some guys are playing basketball. By this point we are getting a bit hungry and eager to get some snacks. Salim was already thinking about the climbing wall we would go to later and climbs up the fence of the public gym.

On the way to the Eerste Van Swindenstraat branch of Lidl we decide to challenge ourselves to get the “Lidl-est” snacks in the supermarket. Salim gets some cheese waffle cones and I choose some sausages and pre-prepared sandwiches. All Lidl stores have some identical products. The pastry and bakery section represents a European selection, with Pastéis de nata, butter croissants, olive focaccias, käsecroissants, alongside some local pastries with jam, and frikandellen. The supermarket has become a lively place of encounter during the pandemic. They play music and neighbors meet here in the brief moments when they leave their houses. Recently Lidl became a coveted brand after they produced socks and sneakers with their logo which became very sought-after items. I consider it a good thing that brands are appreciated not because of clout or exclusive prices but because they are cheap and practical. This location seems to me like the most accurate representation of lockdown Amsterdam. Everyone is really into cooking at home and going to the supermarket.

We bring the Lidl snacks to an outdoor climbing wall in the south of Amsterdam. Salim took up climbing only recently and this is one of the few places people can still climb safely within the pandemic restrictions. We are the only people here but chalk marks on the grips show that this location is popular with climbing pros. I try my best but can only manage the easier routes. You need arm strength and to learn the logic of climbing in order to do this well. Salim does some of the harder routes. I get a bit distracted by the Lidl snacks and spend some time eating them and watching him figure out a route. I climb another easy route and a bird flies over and steals the rest of the snacks. It was okay with me because they were not very good. The cheese cones were particularly disappointing.

The final destination is Lalla Rookh, a Surinamese takeaway restaurant near the Dappermarket. Salim is a big fan of their graphic design and the logo of a colonial ship sailing on an ocean inside a wok. We order and walk over to a nearby park to enjoy the food in the sunshine. This is the tastiest Surinamese food I have had so far in Amsterdam, and there are many good places. Bakabana is battered fried plantain dipped in a spicy peanut sauce. The inside is warm and gooey and the outside is crunchy. These are perfectly fried and have a wonderfully sweet and salty combination. We also have some spring rolls and skewers. Salim asks me what I think is the worst quality in human beings. After reflecting a bit I say malice. He disagrees and suggests greed. We speak about the seven deadly sins and look up the definitions of avarice and wrath. After this visit, I am sure that my sin is gluttony as Lalla Rookh was my highlight of the entire tour.

The pandemic has left me with the feeling of having moved to a shell of a city. I have become familiar with how to get around it, but not with what is behind its closed doors, or what its normal ambience is. It has been a strange and unsettling experience. The De Appel programme was known for its intense travel schedule and for facilitating meetings with people in the cultural sector—activities which both have been legally curtailed. There is a sense of urgency to adapt to the new reality and find new ways of getting to know artists through the few activities we can still do together. I used to complain about small talk, but now I realize how important it is. The moments of seemingly insignificant hellos and chats while pouring coffee during breaks with colleagues have gained a new significance. But Salim doesn’t like coffee.

—Àngels Miralda