The Eyes of the Beholder

I look out the window of the metro, green flying by, I see the little dutch houses, the dutch streets, the dutch bikes, pretty much dutch everything. After being gone for almost eight months it feels strange, yet so familiar to go back to my old apartment. I struggle my heavy suitcase up the stairs and sit down on my bed not really sure if I am experiencing reality or if I am just dreaming. Walking out of my house I see Meent and Blaak - some new shops popped up while I was gone, the sun is slightly coming through the clouds, everything looks exactly like it did when I left. Even my trusty old bike still squeaks the same way and has a broken light. Yet, a lot of time has passed, people and places have changed, including myself. I take my omafiets on a ride along the river and Roffa decides that day to show it from its best side. The sun is setting amidst dramatic clouds over the skyline, a spectacle of red, orange and blue, glistening in the waves of the river. I cycle along, in awe of what my eyes are seeing. 

I remember my parents visiting me when I first started my studies. The sun was scolding hot, everything was dry and brown - they hated it. “Why would you pick this ugly city?”, they would ask me, “when there are such beautiful spots in the Netherlands?” They never visited again and probably never will. Same as many other people, they only saw the weird 70s buildings, the dirty streets and the demolished houses. It took me some time as well, but when I cycle along the river now I don’t see ugly skyscrapers. I see the Erasmus bridge I always struggle to bike up, the skyline that almost resembles New York, the patches of green that are hidden everywhere in the city if you just look close enough. I see the vibrancy of life here, the countless students from all corners of the world, the ever so impressive sunsets and endless skies. 

Roffa became my big love over the course of time, the hidden beauty unfolding in front of my eyes, as if I just had to keep looking long enough. They say beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder - and in my eyes, there is endless beauty in Rotterdam. Not visible to everyone, but all the more appreciated by everyone who sees it and feels it. 

And so I cycle around, soaking in the spirit of Roffa and I feel - at home.