Utrecht, The Hague, Rotterdam #7: Rotterdam Brainpark
About the 8th of June, I have nothing to report. I woke up, packed my bag, checked out, trained to Rotterdam, uber, checked into Novotel Rotterdam. Went to the restaurant for soup. Some vegetables, finally, you might say. Slept for a couple of hours, went to the restaurant once more for dinner and got ready for the next couple of days. No energy to go into town yet. Maybe on Tuesday. The 8th was a Monday.
Still recovering from Saturday night I wonder? Emotions are more tiring than sports.
My first time working professionally in June. Exactly one year ago, I had my graduation. Whilst working you don't appreciate June as much. Or maybe that's because the weather is incredibly gloomy considering it's the start of summer.
[09/06]
Again I was wrong. You don't know it, but I've written awful things about Rotterdam. It's all in my journal, but you won't get to read it. The important thing is I take it back. Rotterdam is a place I like. Getting to see it in the sunshine after a relaxed day's work is all I needed to change my mind. Shows you my previous opinions weren't based on much, although I did visit part of it with a Dutch colleague. He was from Breda and apparently biased. How harsh I've been on my dear northern neighbours. Will they ever forgive me?
What immediately struck me was the architecture, again. Basically the only thing that can visually strike you, I guess. The Netherlands do seem an architect's wet dream. According to me, that is. I have no background in the field. Am I starting to sound schizophrenic? My uber driver yesterday told me about a mix of old and new, result of World War Two bombings. Probably true, though even the old looks recently renovated and in good nick. Again, I will make a page here with some pictures I took while walking. (See page). As I said, the contrast between old and new immediately catches one's eye, if I may say so in snobby tone.
Walking around the city makes one feel it doesn't make sense. The roads don't seem to go anywhere. The buildings randomly built where space, or where none. Quite a chaotic atmosphere, enjoyed by yours truly. Like everyone who visits, I went to the Markthal for dinner. Would recommend seeing it. Wouldn't recommend eating there.
Whilst waiting for my food, I read some more in Naked Lunch. This is my second attempt at Bill Burroughs' batshit bizarreness of a book. My first attempt, a couple of years ago, lasted about 12 pages. 'Twas too screwy, wacky, kooky, funky, kranky, and kinky. Now, though still outlandish, I enjoy it. Feels like stepping out of conventional reality. I won't lie and say I always know what is going on, but how can one with passages like:
Victims often know that they are going to die, express the fear that their penis will enter the body and kill them. Sometimes they cling to the penis in a state of shrieking hysteria calling on others for help lest the penis escape and pierce the body. Erections, such as normally occur in sleep, are considered especially dangerous and liable to bring a fatal attack... One man devised a Rube Goldberg contraption to prevent erection during sleep. But he died of Bang-utot. (p. 61).
And no. No context was given prior to this paragraph. It might seem silly, but given the character of he who wrote the book, I though it might have been non-fiction. Non-fiction for him at least. I was wrong. I could have been right. Read this.
I said I stay in the Rotterdam Brainpark Novotel. Nice at first glance, but the cracks become promptly visible. An old building. I've stayed here before. I'm on one of the executive floors this week. I think that's hotel-speak for being higher up in the building, as my room last time was bigger. I was, by contrast, only on the 7th floor then. Looking back, I, without a doubt, felt like a peasant.
When going walking, end of the day, nice views, I recommend Thinking of a Place, by The War on Drugs for the ears. Paired with my stroll like rosemary with lamb.