Why can my neighbours do construction work for 1000 years but i cannot play electric guitar on a Saturday afternoon?

In the city we must all live together. Piled atop one another, perching in little birdhouses. Living in rectangles, stacked in rows; families, newlyweds, student frats, half-millionaires, twenty somethings scraping by. We can divide ourselves with concrete and plaster walls, pretending our space is our own, but there is one thing we cannot separate ourselves from, something that reminds us we do not live in isolation. That thing is noise. 

In our neighbourhood the buildings are known for their sound transparency - I can hear every one of my upstair’s neighbours footsteps, and when I stand in our bathroom, I hear their music come through the pipes. It's a reminder we live in a city, despite the suburban appearance of our 1920s housing project in the south of Amsterdam, an area that has transitioned recently into a desirable area for those priced out of the Pijp, and the wealthier middle class young Dutch couples seeking more floor space and a bedroom for a soon to be born child. 

The fun thing about the latter demographic is it seems they are addicted to renovating their kitchens. For every month of blissful silence there seem to be weeks in which drilling, hammering, and other various construction sounds emanate from below us, vibrating through our walls. Through some freak of physics at  9am I am in a panopticon of construction noise. Now, you may be thinking - why are you asleep at 9AM? You slovenly 20-something, go and get a job! I do have a job, which involves working at night, but that’s no concern to the day dwelling blue collar construction enthusiasts who live on our ground floor. 

Enter conflict. I play the electric guitar, often with a tube amplifier (these can get loud). I’m not evil, I never play loudly in the evening, and use headphones most of the time.  Every so often however, I practise at a decent volume, which results in me being screamed at by a rich Dutch lady through the intercom who insists Saturdays at 3pm are a time for peace. Maybe she’s right. But for me, if you want peace, don’t live in the city. It feels like the fringes of our city our being controlled by those who own property, and want the convenience of city living, without paying the (non-monetary) price. 

So here’s the deal. No new kitchen. And I'll keep my guitar down. If we must all live together, at least meet us somewhere near the middle. Just because we can get kicked out of our home and you cannot doesn’t mean you control the decibels.