Yesterday I left Enschede after a rather dissatisfacting day at school. Only me and one guy were working on the computers. Everyone else had left, and our scanners were both not giving much satisfaction. He asked me where my fellow students were and I told him the chance to see photography exam students was smaller than the chance that I would show my bare ass on top of that table in a full lesson.
Anyway, he couldn't take it anymore and left. I didn't have anyone to talk to anymore and realised I couldn't progress much with a broken iPod. So I went to take the bus.
Leaving the school at 15:45 would make me arrive in Rotterdam just in time.
I had an appointment with my friend Arthur at 18:30. He was a guestdirector for the filmfestival and I would get to see his film for free.
As I arrived we both went to the local restaurant, just up the escalator from the station. The station is being renovated, so it's likely that the restaurant will be gone after that.
We both like the things La Place serves, so it wasn't hard for me to say yes. Planning to both take a different dish, to compare tastes, he ordered Wok Noodles and I the mixed grill platter.
If I would have to review the meal I would say two out of three pieces of meat were good. The service for me wasn't good or bad, very plain (maybe a little too relaxed). And overbaked fries with pear juice is a bad combo. I guess half of that was my own mistake. Good to know for next time.
We were joined by one of the actors from Arthur's movie. Mr. Kevin. We went underground, trying to be on time for the program.
We arrived exactly at 8 o'clock, in an old warehouse from the Dutch VOC, smelling like indian food they just had. We were actually a bit early as people were still eating or waiting for the dessert. Arthur said that we could just as well have eaten here, but we didn't know. I don't think it would've been free, but with the 3 tickets Arthur had left we surely could've gotten a bit of food in exchange!
Anyway, the program started. A lot of experimental-looking home made films. The first movie kind of showed what most of the directors must have done technically. The use and possibilities of 8mm, 16mm and 35mm film.
Compared to most movies I think Arthur's 3 minutes were on the short side. Nonetheless, he was one of the few Dutch people, which makes it have that extra homemade touch.
As the program dramatically outstretched its time-limit Arthur and Kevin left, because they had to go to another festivity.
I finished the program, having to take the next train, while the next group of people was waiting.
Going home wasn't going to be a smooth ride. It was raining and I had to walk 5-10 minutes to the next subwaystation. When I was on the bridge I was literally blown forward, like the hand of god was giving me a push on the road.
I saw a man pissing on the street. I had to piss too, but I had to catch a train first.
Somehow I have misread the tube-map when we arrived. I thought our station was in the east, because it was on the right side on the map when we were in the train. So I went for the westward-metro.
But after one station I realised I took the wrong one. I looked on the map of the right train of where I had to change. This was the central station which was under the junction.
Too late I realised this didn't mean I had to go south-side, because AGAIN, this map wasn't drawn as it is supposed to be. Because the central station is in the north. Because of all this wrong direction riding I had missed the train that was already an hour later than planned.
Arriving at central station I would have the choice of waiting more than half an hour for the direct train or take one now while trying to change in between the route.
It was again not the wisest thing to try to do something I was hardly sure of. But I couldn’t wait any longer, as always when it’s about transport.
So I went and the train passed Dordrecht, which was good, because that's where the other train would pass and then we arrived in Roosendaal. It was the final stop. I knew this and I thought there would be a connection now, but there were no more trains in this station. I always go through this station between Rotterdam and Eindhoven, so I thought at least the train of half an hour later would arrive here, but the conductor said no.
A no wasn't much fun.
I was going to be stuck here, in this place where I knew no-one. I saw a hotel and conscidered staying here. There were still people at the desk, so they were still open. It was half past twelve and I didn't want to give up just yet. No more buses and a cab would cost a fortune. I went back in the station to find a train, something. Actually trains still arrived, but all ended here, to be cleaned or whatever.
Then one guy came to me and asked me if I had a phone, his battery was empty. He said he fell asleep and should've gotten out 1 station before. I let him call and asked him where he lived. His parents could pick him up, so I asked him if they could drop me at the previous station. I knew this would help me, because every hour a train goes through that station from Rotterdam to Eindhoven. If I just knew that it goes around Roosendaal I wouldn't be stranded.
The boy asked his parents, and they would come.
That was a chance for me, so I could relax for a while. We chatted about where we came from and how we got stuck here. It's very useful to have a buddy when you're stuck.
So we talked for 45 minutes until his parents came.
His parents looked older then I expected. Maybe he is older too then he looks, because he appeared to be very young and talkative, but was already working somewhere in a big city. Though I didn't ask him what he did, his clothes looked pretty much like he studied law. :P
We realised to be closer to Breda, which meant I wouldn't have to travel back a station, but could go one close to my final destination.
In less then half an hour we arrived in Breda and they dropped me off. I was very thankful and so were they for having to use my mobile.
In Breda I still had to wait 45 minutes for my next train. It really felt like I just missed it, even though it left 15 minutes earlier.
On this station people were dressed for carnaval. The floor was dirty to sit on and I didn't want to join either the group of drunken kids or the hostile group of police.
So I went outside, because I had 45 minutes to wait anyway.
Looking for a toilet, but there wasn't any in the neighbourhood.
I did see young people walk towards the station. They must have come from the local cafes. But I didn't see any, and it was raining. So I just waited outside with my bag. Looking at people. One guy kept looking at me, and I think it was his steady place were I was standing now, so I went back in the station. People were walking through a gate which had just opened, to the platforms of the arrived train. It wasn't my train, but I wanted to walk and see something.
I went to the platform where my train would arrive in half an hour. A voice called: where are you going? So I said Eindhoven, and was called back to wait at the gate.
Everyone was gone and I could find 1 space which was clean enough to sit down. I started writing in my journal. The thing I always do at the end of my day.
People started sitting behind me. Almost as if I were a leader and they were following me. But this was just a thing of my head, it happens when there are people behind you, you can't really look in the face unless you turn your head.
The gate finally reopened and I could go to Eindhoven.
I was getting a little tired. Opening my eyes to the fact I had arrived.
But still, I had to get home. I had told my parents to sleep and my brother was having fun in the bars.
I asked the taxi cabs what the fare would be. 30 euros.
Another one I asked to bring me as for as possible for 15, but he didn't want to listen.
I hated that guy, but anyway I waited a moment to think about it.
It was snowing like mad and that would be a rough journey.
But I couldn't give the taxi-drivers their satisfaction. I mean, if I don't have that much money they don't want to drive me.
But they don't have that much customers, because when I came back the same cabs were still standing there.
I had decided to just walk home.
It would be more true to my belief.
And so I did.
I just walked.
I wore my hood and walked through the snow.
I felt like a soldier, marching through heavy weather conditions and with a heavy bag.
But I was happy.
Happy that I had a hood. That I could stand the cold. That I had a leather jacket.
For the snow. It was a beautiful sight in the night.
Around 4 o'clock I was halfway. I made some pictures of this time when everyone was either asleep or partying.
I was almost completely alone on the street, making tracks in the fresh snow.
When there were people passing I felt like they pretended not to see me, because I could've been a burglar.
I mean, I wore a hood, so you could hardly see my face. And I was carrying a heavy bag. I imagined I must've looked at least suspicious.
Just before I arrived I saw bikes around the old info-centre. I realised that this was the place where newspapers were distributed to the bike-"messengers" in this neighbourhood. The newspaper we receive everyday is a 100 meters away from the 2ndary distribution. I had to think of Paolo Coelho's "the alchemist". Also because I saw the woman sitting next to me in a train that evening reading it. And it makes the day come full circle. I wanted to tell her "good book, don't you think?" but held back just before I did, thinking that she wasn't finished and that it might not be a completely justified question.
I took off my wet shoes and jacket, let them to dry and went to bed.
