I could sense the glare of the receptionist, the bell-boy and the bystanders in the lobby.Perhaps, it’s the Indian outfit like always, I thought brushing away the hint of self-consciousness.

“So, where are you coming from? They still must wear masks there,” Rolf, the manager, remarked casually as we waited for the lift. My eyes dashed around the room to realize that there I was the only one standing with an N-95 wrapped around my face. My hands made an uncomfortable journey to face to hesitatingly remove the mask. “From Paris,” I said meekly.

“Here, in Amsterdam, we don’t wear masks anymore. Enjoy your stay and the freedom,” Rolf said both joking and reassuringly.

I was on a work trip to Amsterdam, which was to play home to me for the next 8 days. Not my first trip, I was not the keen tourist. My plan was simple:…