|  |     |  | Monday, May 15,  2006RotterdamI walk in the street   with a bag of garbage. Between the corner houses in front of me I can see a   gigantic ship. It has a large white   building on it, so high it seems it could topple any moment.  
 It is a sunny spring day   with a biting cold gusting wind. When the Hell! can one   in this country lavish unlimited with the warmth of the sun. And finally when   such a divine day arrives, then it lasts at most a few days and next you're punished for three   weeks with rain, cold, clouds racing past and wishy-washy bits of sunshine.
 Last year when everyone had abandoned their hopes and returned   passionately to work, there came a continuous period of heat, in September of all, how about that, what’s that all for?.
 
 So often I searched the horizon for mountains.   In the summer evenings when the sun started to set and dark waves of mist rose   from the ground, I  thought I could see them, just   above the polders at Moordrecht, a soft slant purple   colored landscape under a dark blue sky. But as we neared Rotterdam and   entered the Maasboulevard, the moment definitively   passed. No more mountains but concrete boxes, unmistaken. On that spot an infinite feeling of boredom always   creeps on to me, if one had a wee bit of hope that God exists, then you would   definitely loose it here.
 
 Rotterdam is beautiful if you climb the Erasmus bridge by bike and look upon the west. In every type of weather, the view there is   overwhelming. It is especially the Erasmus bridge that can give you this   feeling, the mighty pale blue pillars, the ships   underneath, it really feels like   climbing a mountain and on reaching the top, every time again your reward: a   splendid view over the ports in the distance and further on the sea. Just beautiful. 
 But there are so many places in Rotterdam that really appall me. Too many. The worst of all is the Weena. When I ride my bike past the black shining monster of   the Nationale Nederlanden   and through the endless whirlpools of wind trying to reach the bike shelter of   Central Station, I curse Rotterdam and beg God to help me away from this   misery. But who has thought up all of these places. Do those architects and   civil servants live here? Have they ever sold the street paper (newspaper from homeless   project) at the entrance of the five star hotel the   Westin? Or just tried to find one spot worth finding?
 
 I throw my   garbage bag in the dumpster, tomorrow it will burn   in the inferno of the AVR where all that ever had any meaning will perish in   flames.
 
 posted by Ruud  at   2:46 PM   |  |   |  |