Na Holanda (outras histórias)

In the Netherlands

I am the hostage of that insidious institution

that is the American Caffe Latte

(grande, tall wasn’t enough, it’s


I’m sipping it slowly, in

the Netherlands

where cold weather has some kind of comfort to it

something familiar

Is cold the same 

everywhere? Perhaps, maybe,

I think so

In the Netherlands everything seems a bit foreign

(except cold)

to me, as an European coming from


Coffee is not coffee

bread is too much

everyone is so tall, and in general

very young and 


I was participating in a conference; I

thought about writing a book with the name

“Everyone is always so polite at conferences (and other stories)” 

because it’s more or less true, and

I liked the title

Anyhow, I’m

in the Netherlands and it’s 

Saturday morning, and I’m taking

a train to a train station and then I’ll take another train to another train station and then I think I still have another train and

one last train station

before I get to a city where I hope there will be a good Asian food joint 

somewhere near the centre

Yesterday, in the Netherlands of all places, I got a gigantic craving 

for Asian food, but the restaurants

were packed

and they close at 22h

in the Netherlands


I’m sitting on a stoptrein to Leeuwarden

I see the watery prairies and etc

the sun and blue sky and etc

cows and all those natural etcs

and I couldn’t thank God more

for my life, but in this particular moment

in time I can’t think him enough

for that amazing capitalist project of world domination

that is Starbucks

with its products of global existential security

that are the only real coffees I could find

around here

and that’s that