Eindhoven - Day 1

You might know, that one of my resolutions for this year is to not be in Germany at least once a month. After Helsinki in January and London in February, I'm a bit on a budget for this month. But since there isn't much left to March, I decided to visit my brother in Eindhoven, Holland. I've been to the Netherlands before, but never to Eindhoven. Plus, I haven't seen my brother's current crib yet.

I got up at much too early an hour for a Saturday, but I wanted to have a proper breakfast before I left. Of course I messed it up and settled with cereals again. But I got Schweineohren and coffee at the station. With my recent disappointment with the German Railway Company I considered renting a car, but at the end of the day I do prefer train rides when travelling by myself. Especially when the connection isn't half bad. 

One of the fun things about trains is the people inside them. For example on the first train there was a woman who told her life story in a voice that filled out the whole compartment. She was on the phone and it was annoying as hell, but you've got to appreciate the silence after she hung up. I had a fourteen minute stop-over in Köln, which was alright for I could take care of some stuff at the bank. 

The second ride, to Mönchengladbach, was fine as well. I got a seat and read a bit, wrote a bit. It was a short ride, though, and when I got off my next train was already waiting. I got in, but all the seats were taken and people were standing everywhere. It got interesting when a young couple with a buggy squeezed in. The pram stopped in front of a huge nervous old guy, the agressive looking kind, you know, the one you'd judge an instant asshole right away.

The toddler's parents were obviously avoiding eye contact with him, desperately looking for another spot to be standing. But not a chance. The baby on the other hand was calm like a happy winter lake, smiling and staring at the guy. He noticed it and narrowed his eyebrows. His neighbour moved away a little, numerous people were watching now. For a second, the only sound you could hear was the train racing along the tracks. All of a sudden the guy made a funny face and smiled back at the laughing baby. He turned out to be a nice guy after all.

I got off in Venlo and once more thought about how great Europe is. You just take a train and when you get off a bit later, people speak a different language. Another nice thing about Venlo Station, it's a very small station with only four platforms, is that when you walk inside the station's main building, there's a huge flower shop right in front of you. As soon as you open the doors it smells like flowers. In a train station. How cool is that. It's like being welcome in a foreign city. 

I got another cup of coffee and watched the scene. It got quite busy, people walking by, missing trains, catching others, people hugging, people fighting, it was nice. I drank up and got back on the train, only a few minutes away from my destination. The ride was comfortable, no people this time, quiet instead. I got off at Eindhoven Station and my brother and Leo picked me up. Man, it must suck to be an only child, to have no brother to pick you up from train stations.

We went for a stroll through the city, super skater-friendly, smooth ground and plenty of spots. There was this boutiquey store, sort of artsy, and they make their own shoes. I mean really nice leathery ones, they make them themselves. How cool must it be to be able to handicraft your own shoes. Pretty cool, no?

After that we grabbed a bite. I had a Quiche, which they have in England, too, although it's French, I think, but not in Germany. I wonder why that is, I find it some really tasty stuff. I mean, you could probably find it, but it's not as common as a Tesco 2 for 1. 

Leo had to take off soon after that. We said our good-byes and my brother took me on a little bycicle tour through Eindhoven. It's amazing how many bikes they have. People really use it for transportation, they're a real part of traffic with their own little roads, rules and traffic lights. It's great. If I had more places to go, I'd use my own ride more, too. 

Of course we went to play pool, too. My brother told me about this place he wanted to check out. It's called the Rex, and they have a fancy banner hanging outside their three-storey building, picturing a fancy snooker player. It almost looked intimidating to two players as casual as us, but we went anyways. Carefully we climbed up the stairs, opened the heavy door and walked in. And what we found was nothing but a shady chinese spot that looked like a sunday hide-out for sino-dutch gangster locals. 

The closed curtains were preventing the sunlight from unsleazing the place, which was filled with questionable air and mysterious back doors. The sound system was pounding heavy-base uptempo shit music and the white ball had a stain on it that might have been blood. The whole scenario made you wonder why an eight year old boy would sit at the bar, folding paper into shapes. He clearly didn't fit in.

But then the bartenderin, who looked nice, like she would change into something less uncomfortable after the sun goes down, turned out to be the boy's mother. And the pissed-off-looking dude must have been his father. Poor boy, he's like predestinatied to become a gang leader. He must learn kung-fu and buy bigger pants to fit a weapon in his belt. 

Surprisingly enough they seemed to make a pretty much normal family. The father had a firm voice, the mother seemed to be caring, and the boy was folding planes, not some kind of deadly origami weaponry. In another setting they would have looked perfectly fine. The boy would come in and mother would prepare dinner, father would come home from work and say 'Honey, I'm home', then read the paper. But not in the Rex. Here he comes in and mother is undusting ashtrays, father comes to work from home and says 'Gimme my money', then plays poker on his stolen laptop. 

My brother's crib, as expected, is superdope. Bright and clean with nice floors, tiles in the kitchen and wood in the rooms. Matchy furniture, too, and a spacious desk, I mean, he's my hyung, he does shit right. For dinner we had Schnizzles with fries from the best Fritjes joint in the country, Netherland's finest. No kidding, they win prizes, they have three different oil baths for them fries, and a buying limit for the costumers, who have to wait at least half an hour for their turn. I wonder why they're still called French fries when the Dutch ones are clearly the better ones.