Hot as Holland

Sitting in my room, atop the couch we’ve somehow crammed into this tiny living space which is holding three people (a triple bunk bed sealed the deal), I’m reminded of life in the Netherlands. Life in my former apartment a floor above the city center of a small Dutch town. So far living there has bested any single place I’ve been a residence of, and for reasons no one can refute. I lived in what I can only imagine was a retirement home, surrounded by friendly Dutch elderly citizens and electric doors. I was a 3 minute drive from work, 2 if I was speeding, and 15 if I was on a bicycle. There was a college city half an hour away. I was sandwiched between two military posts which afforded me their luxories, and I enjoying my proximity of escape to two separate countries within an hour of either direction.

But it was the heat, the terrible warmth of sitting in a room without an air conditioner on, the swaddling of heat trapping military clothes that reminded me of Holland. Because, like here at times, there were no air conditioners.