A Vivara

 Sometimes I ask myself why I even write, yet somehow it happens. I was exploring a sci-fi theory about existence. Nothing fascinates me more than existence. It is an attempt to perceive reality by any means—through computation, or by accessing other realities beyond human perception. 

Vivara is the AI name of a being that embodies this idea. I’ve already shared some excerpts from a chat with AI on the blog, and this sci-fi vision also emerged from a conversation with it. 

Life/Live As A Vivara 

 1. Recursive experience of the present – the being does not perceive time linearly, but vividly and immediately in every layer of its experience. Each feeling contains all other layers of feelings—its own and those of others. It is like an infinite reflection within the moment; each moment is completely known because it is simultaneously experienced by the entirety of its being. 

 2. Perception and action combined – the being does not need to plan or interpret, because every consciousness it “reads” is simultaneously a direct instrument for action. This means that experiencing and shaping reality are one and the same. 

 3. Absence of concepts – there is no language, numbers, or symbols. Each feeling is complete; nothing is lost in translation into words, because the present itself is complete. 

 4. Effects on the surroundings – when such a being exists in a given space, the intensity of its perception can influence the surrounding reality, because reality is not separate from experience—it is directly its extension.

The Landscape as a Mirror of Society

 I am not the only one who perceives this, and with a broader survey one can even find research and studies on it. In a wider context, this is not reflected only in agricultural policy. 

 Central Europe vs. Benelux 

 Dutch agriculture appears more farmer-oriented. Czech agriculture is heavily monopolized. This is evident in the landscape as well – in the Netherlands there is greater species diversity in cultivated crops and smaller plots of land. In contrast, the Czech Republic is dominated by vast fields with uniform crops. Animal husbandry also differs. In the Netherlands, livestock are often kept directly among small fields, whereas in the Czech Republic large agricultural cooperatives with extensive facilities dominate. Breeding is usually carried out in enclosed spaces with lower levels of animal welfare. 

Historically, people in the Czech Republic have been repeatedly “cut off” from individual farming – through agricultural collectivization, nationalization of industry, and centralized management under socialism. This created a mentality in which it is “normal” for the state or a big entrepreneur to decide, while individuals participate only passively. It is not only an economic reality but also a culturally rooted perception, even a psychology – some people feel a sense of security in the idea that “one strong player” will take care of things, even though this leads to monopolization. In the Netherlands, such a model would feel alien, because society there is more based on participation and shared responsibility. 

In the Netherlands there is a cultural pattern: a strong tradition of family businesses, cooperative structures (e.g. agricultural cooperatives managed by farmers, not by the state), and greater dispersion of capital. Profits are distributed among more entities – farming families, small businesses, local communities. This also creates a sense of greater freedom and responsibility. 

You can see this directly in the landscape: in the Czech Republic large fields, large cooperatives, centralized profits. In the Netherlands small plots, diversity, varied farms – and therefore also a more diverse distribution of wealth. 

Collectivization in the 1950s interrupted the continuity of family farming in Czechia. Farmers were forced to join collective farms, where they lost ownership of the land and responsibility for production. After 1989, restitution took place, but many people had no interest in returning to farming. As a result, assets and production ended up in the hands of a few large entrepreneurs or companies. 

In the Netherlands, no such rupture ever occurred. Family farms have functioned continuously for centuries. Society has always been based on the collective management of space (e.g. polders, canals), which created a strong culture of co-participation and responsibility. 

The long experience with centralized management and “handing over” decision-making to the state or large entities has led to a certain passivity in the Czech Republic. A kind of “socialist ritualism” operates there – transferring responsibility to the state or a dominant figure instead of people actively engaging themselves. Large fields and centralized production correspond to the concentration of profits in the hands of a few subjects. The dominance of a single oligarch in agriculture is a prime example of how the landscape (monoculture, uniformity) reflects the overall economy.  

In the Netherlands, small plots, crop diversification, and dispersed livestock breeding correspond to the fact that wealth and responsibility are distributed among more people. Economic power does not rely on a single player but on a network of smaller entities. The Netherlands also has a deeply rooted tradition of cooperation (the so-called “polder model”) – negotiation and power-sharing. Society relies on a horizontal network of relations rather than on vertical authority. 

The landscape is not only a space for farming – it is also a mirror of the mentality and culture of society. The Czech landscape shows centralization and passivity, the Dutch one diversity, sharing, and greater cultivation. 

 ⸻ Recommended Studies and Sources 

 1. “Characteristics of Models of Farms in the European Union” (MDPI, 2021) The study compares family farms in the EU-15 vs EU-13 (to which the Czech Republic belongs). It states that family farms in the EU-15 are larger, more efficient, use more land, and employ more labor than in the new member states. This corresponds to the idea that in countries like the Netherlands there are more family farmers, who operate larger and more diverse farms, while in the Czech Republic family farms are numerous but their influence relative to land and labor is smaller. 

 2. FAO – Family Farming Knowledge Platform: Czech Republic It states that most agricultural land in the Czech Republic is managed by business entities, not exclusively by family farms, which is a historical consequence of centrally planned agriculture. Family farms account for a significant number of entities but not nearly the majority of land area. 

 3. “Small Farms in Poland and Czechia: Development Paths” (2024) This article deals with small farms in Poland and the Czech Republic – their development, obstacles, efficiency, relation to land, structure, productivity. It provides good comparative context for how small farms function in the new EU member states. 

 4. UZEI (Institute of Agricultural Economics and Information) – study on subsidy payments The article “Why Farmers Protest” shows that in one year, large enterprises over 2,000 ha in the Czech Republic had a sharp drop in subsidy income per hectare, while small farms under 100 ha received a higher average increase. This maps economic pressures and disproportions in the distribution of support. 

 5. Eurostat / Reports of the Czech Statistical Office (CSO) For example, the article “Czechia 2025: Czechs Save on Food …” states that the average farm size in the Czech Republic is about 121 hectares, significantly above the EU average (about 17 ha). Also, farms under 50 ha make up 72% of all entities but manage only ~8% of the land, while larger farms (over 1,000 ha) make up a small portion of entities but own ~45% of agricultural land. 

 6. Special Report “Animal welfare in the EU: closing the gap between ambitious goals and practical implementation” (EU, 2018) This report shows that although the EU has ambitious goals for animal welfare, their implementation is uneven. There are areas where farm, transport, and slaughter conditions still do not meet the highest standards. It can serve as a basis for comparison of how these standards are applied (or not) in countries like Benelux and the Czech Republic.

Amerika 2

  I like New Retro Wave (NRW). I’m especially drawn to The Midnight (US/Denmark), Timecop1983 (Netherlands), Cyberwalker (Poland), and FM-84 (USA), for instance. Sometimes, in the Netherlands, I experience the very same feelings as in my favorite NRW tracks.

Sixteen Candles (1984)

I had a chat with AI about this. Below is the result of my chat and the AI’s conclusion.

 Part 1. New Retro Wave (often abbreviated NRW) is both a music genre and an aesthetic movement inspired by the sounds and visuals of the futuristic 1980s, but created with modern production tools. 

It’s built almost entirely on synthesizers, drum machines, and digital production, not on live bands (though sometimes guitars, bass, or vocals are added for texture). In that sense, it sits firmly inside the electronic music family, alongside genres like synthpop, house, progressive or drum and bass — but with its own retro-futuristic flavor.

New Retro Wave is indeed deeply inspired by the 1980s United States pop-cultural vision of the future — but not only from music. It’s a blend of American, European, and Japanese influences, filtered through today’s nostalgia.

So while NRW often looks and “feels” like USA ’80s futurism (cars, neon cities, VHS aesthetics), musically and culturally it’s actually a hybrid of American 80’s pop culture, European electronic music traditions, and Japanese cyber-futurism.

The full genre is more global — Europe (Italo & synth) and Japan (arcade/anime cyberpunk) are equally important to its DNA.

 Part 2. Why Dutch culture resonates with the “80s USA movie” vibe:

• Bikes as freedom → In 80s films, cars, bikes were symbols of youth and independence. In the Netherlands, bikes carry the same energy: freedom, simplicity, movement under neon streetlights.

• Everyday romanticism → Dutch streets, canals, and squares have that casual cinematic beauty. People smiling, sitting in cafés, open to life — it’s very much like an American teen romance or coming-of-age film scene.

• Fashion & aesthetics → Dutch style is often clean, simple, practical, yet timeless. Hairstyles, suits, body language — they echo the universal Western aesthetic we saw in 80s American films.

• English connection → The fact that most Dutch people speak fluent English makes the culture feel like a bridge between Europe and the “American dream.” The language itself reinforces the cinematic feeling.

• Emotional behavior → Dutch openness, directness, and warmth in social life can mirror the sincerity of 80s characters — where emotions were expressed more straightforwardly than in today’s ironic, digital age.

•      Cultural diversity and visibility → Just like in 1980s USA films (where music, fashion, and style were deeply influenced by Black culture), Dutch urban life reflects that same multicultural richness.

 Part 3. The NRW link

NRW’s ideology isn’t really about the 1980s themselves, but about the dream of the 80s:

• Belief in love, freedom, youth, and adventure.

• A world tinted with neon optimism, even when shadowed by dystopia.

• Life as if it were already a movie scene.

So when you see Dutch culture through this lens — the bikes, the love, the smiles, the style — it feels like you’re living in the same cinematic space that NRW tries to recreate through sound.

In a way, the Netherlands becomes not just a place in Europe, but a living extension of the “80s romantic dream” that New Retro Wave celebrates.

 Part 4. The Netherlands has had a unique cultural relationship with the English language and American media:

• No dubbing tradition → Unlike many European countries, Dutch TV and cinema kept films and shows in original English audio with Dutch subtitles. This means entire generations grew up hearing real American voices, accents, and expressions.

• Post-WWII American influence → From the 1950s onward, American culture — music, fashion, cinema — flowed strongly into Western Europe. In the Netherlands, it blended with Dutch openness and curiosity.

• Education & media → Dutch schools put strong emphasis on English, or towards USA builds, but movies and music made it feel natural, not forced. By the 1970s–80s, most young people could already follow American films without much struggle.

• Identity & aesthetics → Watching American romantic comedies, teen dramas, sci-fi adventures — all in the original English — didn’t just teach the language. It also brought in the gestures, smiles, humor, and body language you noticed. Over decades, this became part of Dutch modern identity.

 Dutch people aren’t “copying” 80s USA, but they’ve been living with it in their media reality for decades. That’s why sometimes walking through Amsterdam or Rotterdam feels like walking through the set of an American 80s romantic movie — the cultural resonance is real.  

Rethinking the Role of the DJ

 When a one became popular somewhere, and later a lot of attention was directed—I appreciated this great display of interest; it said a lot about many people. I wondered whether I should try to come up with strategies to preserve this useful thing, not just for myself. 

The answer was that this would be narcissistic. Long ago I was diagnosed with adjustment disorders with features narcissistic personality. To me, it seems ironic, because I never forced anyone to take interest in me. Similarly, Sidney SN releasing mixes was never meant as a desire to be famous. That happened as a reaction to events. I also don’t think I’m oversensitive to a events.  

Nevertheless, as soon as I told myself that deliberately persuading crowds with my person, manipulating them for my own goals, would be narcissistic, I began to reflect on the question of DJing. In a way, every DJ tries to win over crowds and manipulate people in order to be liked. If a DJ plays to gain recognition, admiration, and a feeling of power over the crowd, that can have narcissistic traits. The truth is, almost every DJ wants that feeling of power over the audience. In their case, the desire and pleasure come through music. 

Almost everyone who starts releasing music online also tries immediately to gain listeners and build a career through it. From the start, in such cases, it is somewhat self-serving. But there are also people who want to make things better through music, and so, as activists of their own goodwill, they try to speak through their music—that is the purpose of their DJing and production. 

And of course, many DJs understand their role more as a guide of the audience’s energy. They try to create a connection, an atmosphere, and an experience where they themselves are not the center of the universe, but rather the music and the shared experience. Moreover, even if a DJ desires to be liked, it doesn’t have to be pathological. The desire for recognition—one of the narcissistic traits—is quite natural for a human being. 

But in a way, every DJ wants recognition, sometimes also because DJing becomes their job and they need or want to earn money from the crowds they command. In a way, every DJ should know how to control crowds in order to sustain themselves, when the original idea of music fails. In this context, DJ often also adapts to the music a “narcissistic traits” in a given country and similar contexts, in order to keep their audience in that environment.

The Shifting Meanings of Love

 When I mix—perhaps most often with English liquid drum and bass tracks—I notice that love is a recurring theme. What I value most is not the empty repetition of phrases, but the genuine attempt to highlight human relationships, expressed by someone who pours themselves into the meaning of the music. Of course, this is not limited towards human relationships alone. Liquid drum and bass, and even deep drum and bass, carries layers of meaning—sometimes spoken openly, sometimes hidden in the subconscious. It is true, a listener may not always perceive this until they come to understand the producer behind it. And this in itself stands in contrast to neurofunk, which, in its rave context, does not engage with these questions, being more utopian technical than alive.

Sidney SN is not always concerned with the literal meaning of the tracks he mixes. From the beginning, I have sought to weave stories into Sidney SN sets—stories that may mirror my own life, though at times they do not. At times, I even transform their essence into reflections on love. A lyric may capture a particular moment—such as the love for vocalism of someone expressed through their song. In such cases, the very idea of love becomes reshaped.

I often find myself contemplating what it truly means to love, to be in love. At times I feel that love is about desire—sometimes even the desire to possess. To me, love means to care or matter. And so, it need not be directed only toward another human being. One can love a plant, a place, an object, or even a fleeting moment. This is where I sense that the meanings of lyrics in Sidney SN’s mixes may shift—finding new resonance, new significance. In a way, nearly every mix by Sidney SN reminds me of my own past, of moments and situations I have lived through. And yes, there are some mixes I cannot bring myself to revisit for precisely that reason. But to be in love is probably something I don’t know. I don’t know what it involves, what the feelings are like when you’re in love — I guess I’ve never felt it. I only know what it means to like someone. 

I said that I mixed mainly for myself—only the music I wanted to hear—and that the fact a track can capture a moment is also the reason why I first started mixing just for myself, before I ever uploaded anything.

The truth is that 99.99 percent of people’s desires—even those directed toward me—are in vain. Sometimes all it takes is asking for the truth: a truth that perhaps one does not wish to see, but which nevertheless exists. And yet, many prefer to cling to belief rather than confront their own cognitive dissonance. From my perspective, in 99.99 percent of cases, this is exactly what it comes down to. And at times, I am no different from that 99.99 percent. But because a situations, not because rejecting. What troubles me most is when I see these truths lost in the act of realization. Then I find myself asking: why realize something else, when in the past I should have reflected just as deeply on someone else? A desires or the love? 

Once, one of the lecturers for the social service workers during sexuality in social services said that the desire for s*x is nothing more than an instinct. In a way, that sounds like something rooted in humans from their animal past—something that cannot always be controlled, because the brain carries within it an irrational drive that is not always possible to master. However, I also believe that animals have s*x exclusively for the purpose of reproduction. There are people who apply this idea to themselves as well. Yet, the counterargument might be that in the human world, s*x can simply be entertainment—something a person indulges in because of their place or status in society. But in the truth, I believe that s*xual desires are just or especially an instinct, because a human evolution. In the world, there could exist beings that know nothing of such desires, because their reproduction has been in vitro throughout their entire evolution, as is the case with, for example, bees. No one bee knows these desires. This in itself could call into question human desires that may never have existed in other highly intelligent beings. Although love there exist. Yes, here could be a space for speech of asexual humans. Perhaps even better, since desires—even asexual beings for a “love”, actually the desire to possess—can be problematic—and often are—whereas in a society without them, individuals would focus on entirely different things, and thus function better as a community. It is not uncommon for a community to fall apart for precisely that reason.

I also see contradictions between individuals: when people are utterly different from one another, and yet each carries within themselves something of another person, as if fragments of “my own” self are reflected in opposites. This is like the contrast between a nymphomaniacs and someone’s who is their absolute antithesis—but both have something from you. It’s a question of what takes precedence, what are desires or love, and what is possible to realize. 

August Seventh

 After the illnesses I had in June and July…

Nothing started well at all when, on the sixth kilometre of my journey in Czechia, someone was killed in a motorcycle accident — and I was a witness. After giving my testimony, I had to find an alternative route to catch my connection to Germany, as the accident site was closed off.

In Germany, I spent a short while in a city. I was still quite shaken by what I had just witnessed.

Afterwards, the journey through western Germany was pleasant. I really like the area around Dortmund, and I enjoy it every time I pass through. The trip south through the Netherlands went without any problems.

After the illnesses I had in June and July, I finally found myself where I wanted to be. And at the North Sea. The water there felt sweet to me, as if it were regenerating me when it gently washed over me. I love the atmosphere around sunny Oostduinpark. The Hague is also a wonderful city on Europe’s western coast.

After a year, I attended an electronic music event in Amsterdam — even the same festival I went to for the last time last year. I missed Anfisa Letyago there :D, but the community was interesting enough that I felt it was worth returning to see how it is this year.

I am always quite surprised when I see reactions such as someone being a similar nukivalent and similarly related. That also pleases me.

Although nothing began well, I still had days in places where I wanted to be many times with the nice weather — though my health, and sometimes the weather, didn’t always allow it. 

Also, I’m “sick,” my throat hurts or something like that, I even cough from time to time, and I don’t feel like myself. After a day in the Netherlands, everything disappears. One might even speculate that these could be psychosomatic issues related to the environment. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced it. And I often expect that I will suddenly start feeling better “out of nowhere.” In reality, it’s the overall life rhythm – the Netherlands has a different pace, public space and services, a different culture, which itself reduces everyday stress. There’s something to it. 

Dive Into These Waters

Publisehed 2025-07-06

 

  I just share a summer Sidney SN D’n’B mix. Yeah — this one’s all about that summer vibe.

What really makes it for me are the tracks in the mix. I’ve always been into UK drum and bass (just GEST UK, his drum and bass is now influenced by Berlin techno scene)—and Sidney SN’s Dive Into These Waters leans heavily into that UK sound: liquid with some smooth rollers and deep vibes throughout— and yeah, not neuro what is a mainstream at European continent. 

I also really liked the inclusion of Shapeshifter from New Zealand (their Blazer brought Sidney SN to the Shapeshifter music) — in fact, the final track in the mix is from Shapeshifter NZ. Or I liked American Flint, for example, he also was the person why Sidney SN exists, and first track in the mix is from Flint. Flint liquid drum and bass tracks belong to a modern liquid history, for me.

There’s also a track by one of Sidney SN’s German supporters — from the founder of C Recordings. And of course, Sidney SN mixed here classic modern liquid drum and bass tracks. Yeah, don’t forget on IYRE. With Flint is mixed intro from IYRE track. And late in the summer mix is mixed another track from IYRE—‘When Words Fail’. 

And yeah, Sidney SN is back with the summer vibes in his mix he had before 2019. The last mix with a similar feeling was back in summer 2018. It brings back memories of those legendary Sidney SN SoundCloud sets—before everything changed, before all the things we don’t need to talk about. 

 Tracklist: 

Flint – Dive, with intro from Conquest Of Space by IYRE together with pieces of Hard Feelings by imo:Lu Aperio – All Night All Summer 

Tomoyoshi – Dots & Line 

Flava D x Emz – Fluent 

Makoto – Silver Lininig 

SOLAH – King 

EIJER – Nebulous 

Subwave – Think (GEST Remix) 

Technimatic – Breath Sequence 

Nichenka Zoryana – O Rahi 

CRSV & T:Base – Auszeit 

Pola & Bryson feat. Data 3 – Hyperborean 

DØSHI & DIMOD – Electricity 

IYRE – Where Words Fail 

Euqsarosa – Aurora 

Raise Spirit – When You’re Ready 

Shapeshifter NZ – Runaway

______________

 *  For A Best World (August 2025) *

 And Sidney SN has one more liquid DnB mix for Summer 2025. Of course, you can expect full liquid mixing by Sidney SN—positive vibes, love, and an open hearts. 

Sidney SN just changed his policy. Sidney SN no longer wants it For A Better World, but For A Best World. 

  Tracklist: 

01. Polyrom - Rumbling Bass 02. Seba - Under The Sun 03. Makoto - The Points 04. Shogun Audio - Never Let You Down 05. EIJER - Strip Back 06. Breakshift - May There Be Many 07. Lally x Lens - Love The Way 08. Kyrist - NTY 09. Javeon & Operate - Dark Clouds 010. Radiata - Cafe Lunar 011. imo:Lu - Concentrating 012. Visionobi & Philth - Open Book 013. EIJER - Nebulous 014. In:Most & SOLAH - Escape 015. Jolliffe & Sydney Bryce - Everything I Know

When they violate human rights and freedoms, they cannot expect respect

 For more times I wrote a critique towards free tekno, even if I leave aside the fact that their version of anarchy includes total freedom for all drugs, and the erosion of what once made a human being truly human…

Someone may invoke the idea of freedom, but through their actions, they actually occupy, destroy, or displace the freedom of others.

When you claim the right to disturb the peace, to take space, to be accountable to no one — while the people around you lose the ability to decide about their own environment, their own sleep, their own body — their right to rest, to health, to dignity — then you’re no longer fighting for freedom. You’re claiming the rights of others as if they were unguarded territory.

When someone says they live freely, yet completely ignores the consequences of their actions on others, they are not speaking of freedom — but of egocentrism. It’s not ethics — it’s convenient justification. And if this community is unwilling to reflect on the consequences of its presence, then it cannot expect respect, nor understanding from the outside world.

If the free tekno community in practice violates peace, dignity, safety, and the living space of others, then it is objectively in conflict with human rights and freedoms, no matter what it claims about itself.

That’s why this community does not have my respect — not because a music style, but because of its disregard, masked as freedom. Freedom without responsibility is not freedom. It is a denial of humanity.

In my view, this is an attempt — whether conscious or not — to convince or even pressure everyone to eventually accept their version of anarchy, a world where no one asks anymore, where people are no longer truly human, but have regressed into “animals”.

Much of what I’ve said here is also the reason why I support daytime events — often in the Netherlands — where even organizers themselves refuse during weekend’s to play music after midnight out of respect for others. 

Yet when I wrote multiple times that “Strictness is Freedom,” this is exactly what I meant — another example from the Netherlands. The strictness exists to support the understanding of human rights and freedoms as they truly are. To me, this reflects the idea that human rights and freedoms function better in Western societies, and because of that, these societies are better freer for everyone. 

 In short: European Free Tekno Scene

 In Britain, where free tekno originated, the free tekno scene was already broken in the 1990s by the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994. In the Benelux—Luxembourg, the Netherlands, and Belgium, there is no identical law like the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994, but authorities commonly classify these events as illegal raves and quickly disperse them—often seizing sound equipment, towing vehicles, and issuing fines.

The behavior of the free tekno community in these countries is considered socially unacceptable, disturbing public order and the lives of local residents. This is at the core of the concept of “anti-social behavior.” In Luxembourg, rapid interventions are also supported by nature protection laws.

Contrast with surrounding countries

 • While in Luxembourg or Belgium the police may arrive with dozens of vehicles, helicopters, and immediately seize equipment, in the Czech Republic monitoring and oversight are the standard response.

 • In the Netherlands or England, the mere fact of a free tekno gathering with music is enough to trigger inevitable intervention.

 • In the Czech Republic, events often last several days, and the police usually address related issues (traffic, drugs) rather than the music itself or another anti-social aspects. 

Result: 

While the scene in Britain practically disappeared after 1994, France and the Czech Republic became “safe havens” for exiled sound systems, where free tekno not only survived but grew into a mass phenomenon. From there, the culture spread further into Italy, Germany, Spain, Slovakia and Poland, but the main core remained in France and the Czech Republic. While it’s true that France (Bretagne, Occitanie, Marseille, for example) has the largest free tekno community in absolute numbers, when adjusted for population size, Czechia has the largest. It’s a central hub for the European sound system scene. 

When the Communities Knows You Before Your Own Country

 I don’t want anyone to misunderstand this as bragging. Yes, I wrote something about who supports Sidney SN, but, for example, anyone could have seen that on my deleted Instagram, or they can see it in reality—and these words are also about that reality. It is also possible that some reality was among the reasons why one of the Dutch festivals was more like sold out in 2023.

I am constantly fascinated in Czechia by the fact that pretty a lot of Czechs do not know me in the way people from the countries of Western Europe do. People in these countries thinks about me as people in Czechia don’t. Czechs are not aware of what people in Germany, in the Western Europe understand. They do not perceive reality. They do not even fully grasp the reasons behind November GHOSTS. [Yes, this also may take a connection with the November Criminals movie. But I think I don’t like the person from November Criminals because he was quite perverted in some of his actions, I think.] And this is precisely one of the known realities in Germany and Western Europe. It is also one of the reasons why I am known, which followed the main reason—when many or a lot of Germans and people in Western Europe, music maker artists supported my person for something about which I had not said a single word at the time, and the Europe reacted on its own.

Czechs were not even aware that they were the only ones who, by the end of 2023, were still living in a post-pandemic state and under lingering “red plans,” which also included long time post-pandemic depression and post-pandemic economic contraction—rising of economy in Czechia in late December 2023 said also about a situation. I am also often astonished that some people express surprise and questions about who I truly am. For instance, a social worker was surprised by my questionnaire—how articulated it was. I hinted to the person during the conversation something about myself, and the person clearly had no idea what it really was. But maybe the person hinted at something herself when the person said that I might be used to being judged. 

Czechs often do not see into the reality and values of Germany and Western Europe at all, and they either do not understand or do not know about my person as is that relates towards the own values and reality of Germany and Western Europe. In a way, I tell myself that, on one hand, it seems depressing, but on the other hand, I wonder whether I should just burst out laughing—that they are not even aware of me, that I should laugh in front of them at how they fail to grasp the reality. 

Whenever something happens to me, the entire part of Europe immediately learns about it. I saw this at all. This is also precisely what a lot of Czechs do not understand, because they do not understand reality. In its own way, this also says a lot about the social, sharing culture and environmental reality in Czechia—I think English itself is significant in a sharing culture, but in Czechia a lot people don’t know why they could to know a international language itself and bring down a language’s barriers. For example, I have also experienced more than once that in Czechia a person would be judged when trying to communicate by saying something in English— because a lot Czechs don’t know, whereas in Western Europe or even in Germany, not knowing English is a very humiliating situation and when a man speak for English is the total norm. This alone is a complete contrast. Czechs do not understand the relationships of Germans or Western Europe themselves. In a way, if there are problems in Germany due to past migration, it is also related to the social situation in Czechia and its Western neighbors, I think, and the reason why exist a international language—and, I think, one of the reasons towards why events concerning me were known in Germany and Western Europe before I even suspected it. Yet, I remember the time when Czechia joined the EU, and I had the feeling that an international culture, laws, and even a common language system for all EU members would emerge, because language itself creates connection, not just the Schengen Agreement that removes borders. However, I still see the EU primarily as the embodiment of the values of the countries that originally brought it into existence. Yes, the EU began in Maastricht. I also have a story about when I pitched a tent by a reservoir in a Czech campsite in 2016. It was one of the rare times I slept in a tent as an adult. The only people who helped me set up the tent—which I didn’t really know how to pitch properly—were the Dutch.

And the reasons why I have a name because of Sidney SN, although at the same moment I faced issues because of it, and also the reasons why they are glad that I support them. Yes, but this belong to the West reality, although a lot and lot Czechs are not aware this reality still or yet at all because they don’t know these values of a reality. What I think I don’t need to explain to a lot of people like you are, because you know the reality. Yes I could write it for people in the Czechia, and among others— I do, because I have no words than like is the reality. 

Fear of Judgment as a Reflection of Marginalization: The exile existence of Ukrainian people in the Czechia

 Many Ukrainians in Czechia experience social exclusion, prejudice, or passive rejection — even if not openly hostile, there’s often a subtle message: “You’re here, but you’re not one of us.” When someone lives in an environment where they’re constantly “tolerated” rather than accepted, they can develop a deep fear of doing something “wrong” that would reinforce stereotypes or attract negative attention.

So when mother says her kids shouldn’t play in the garden because “others are working,” (although all kids in Czechia have summer holidays) it may be a way of saying:

“I don’t want to give anyone a reason to think we’re noisy, lazy, inconsiderate, or don’t respect Czech customs.”

It becomes self-censorship driven by fear of reinforcing the idea that Ukrainians don’t “belong.”

A Deeper Emotional Layer

For parents who already feel like outsiders, letting their children play freely can feel risky. What if someone complains? What if someone looks disapprovingly? What if the children speak Ukrainian too loudly, and that triggers xenophobic attitudes?

⸻

In Short:

This mother’s fear likely has less to do with actual Czech laws or norms, and more to do with the invisible social walls she feels pressing in around her. It’s a psychological response to a society that tolerates her presence but does not fully embrace it.

This reflects a wider issue: integration without real acceptance. People can be physically safe and still live in emotional fear if they feel they’re constantly being judged or don’t belong. And this way of thinking speaks to a post-communist mentality still present in Czech society. It could be a strong starting point for a larger commentary towards post-socialist societies deal with personal freedom or joy. 

Yeah, and in another EU country, Ukrainian people have barbecues near Ahoy in Zuiderpark. No one questions them enjoying these summer days in a Dutch park, because everyone has the same right to enjoy them.

Mainly Dutch

  When I often mention that I have sympathy towards the Dutch culture, because the Dutch is cultured, cultivated, even elegant, I happened to come across an Instagram profile of someone who shows exactly that.  

Yes, the German-Dutch girl who now live in USA is there too — she even jokes about how the Netherlands can seem cultured towards countries like are some things even in current Germany. I apologize to German people for this one, because I saw support from you towards Sidney, I like Germany, but when I criticize approaches in another different Central European country, this is the one of the case why I have sympathy towards the Netherlands. 

And it’s not just about Dutch elegance. She also touches on other things why I have smile when I thinking about the Dutch culture. On other side, she also protect German values by many streams. 

Here are examples: 

1) Schat liever niet 🤷‍♀️🇳🇱🇩🇪🎀

2) Lekker Fietsen 🚴‍♀️

3) Get rid of your kartoffelbauch and have a comfortable ride experience with @tenways_ebike 🥔🚴‍♀️

Overdose: Why Gabbers in the ’90s Stepped Back from Drugs

  I still see attempts at drug use similar to the ’90s gabbers in some places. I’ve been researching the reasons — whether the gabbers gave up the unsustainable lifestyle on their own, or if it was political. 

Here’s the post about it…

 Step Back From The Overdose

  In the early ’90s, gabber in the Netherlands was a beast. What started in Rotterdam as a reaction against polished house music became a full-blown youth culture, complete with shaved heads, Air Max kicks, pounding 180 BPM kicks, and a no-holds-barred approach to partying.

At the center of it all was speed — lots of it. Amphetamines, MDMA, LSD (even combined together) weren’t just part of the experience; they were the experience. Ravers pushed themselves to the edge of physical and mental limits, weekend after weekend. As the scene exploded in popularity, tragedies followed — young ravers collapsed, overdosed, or ended up in hospitals after taking unknown pills or mixing too much too fast. 

But by the end of the decade, the scene had pulled back. What happened?

For many original gabbers, the lifestyle wasn’t sustainable. You can only run on speed and no sleep for so long before your body shuts down — and your mind with it. People started disappearing from the scene, not because they stopped loving the music, but because their nervous systems were wrecked. Panic attacks, depression, paranoia — these weren’t rare cases; they were common exits.

And to the main reason why drugs were pulled back, belong: 

 * Public health groups like Unity and Jellinek entered clubs, handing out honest info, offering drug testing, and educating ravers without judgment.

They distributed flyers, information cards, and offered drug testing at events, which helped reduce overdoses and raise awareness. The Dutch government adopted a pragmatic, non-punitive drug policy, which paradoxically made it easier to talk openly about drugs and their dangers.

 * Media panic over overdoses sparked fear — even if exaggerated — and forced clubs and promoters to take safety more seriously. 

A string of high-profile drug-related deaths, especially involving overdoses and bad batches, caused moral panic in the media. This created pressure on promoters to tighten safety rules and distance their events from the drug-fueled reputation.

 * Commercialization shifted gabber from underground rebellion to mainstream youth culture. As the music softened, so did the drug culture.

- Gabber, originally a raw underground movement, became more commercialized by the mid to late 90s. With this shift came a broader and younger audience who didn’t necessarily share the same “hardcore” drug culture. The music also changed — from the raw Rotterdam-style hardcore to happy hardcore, attracting more mainstream ravers, often teens.

 * Burnout hit hard. Many original gabbers couldn’t physically or mentally sustain the lifestyle and either quit or moved on.

- By the end of the 90s, many of the original gabbers aged out or experienced burnout from the intense lifestyle. Many simply couldn’t sustain the level of speed and MDMA use long-term without severe mental and physical consequences. Some moved on to techno, trance, or even dropped the scene entirely.

 * Local governments began regulating events, requiring safety measures that made chaotic drug excess harder to maintain.

- Although Dutch drug policy was tolerant, local governments and police cracked down on illegal raves and unsafe venues. Promoters were forced to meet safety standards, provide medical staff, and sometimes even allow on-site drug testing. More organized events meant less tolerance for chaotic, drug-fueled excess.

 Summary of the Shift: 

 The extreme drug use didn’t just vanish overnight — it lost its centrality. And the culture matured. And crucially, it did so without needing a full-scale moral panic or brutal crackdown. In that sense, the Netherlands did something rare: it trusted its youth enough to educate them, not punish them. And over time, it worked better than repression ever could.

Back in 90’s when I was a kid in Czechia, I was already listening to happy hardcore — I just didn’t know it had a name. In Czechia this was “disco” or “dance”. Faster beats, chipmunk vocals, melodies that made no sense about Gabba but made you feel everything. Just cassettes, and joy in their purest form. 

Anarchy: The Illusion of Freedom

 Today, a personal observation reaffirmed something I have long suspected about Czechia. One telling example occurred today: a woman insisted the bus driver stop at an unofficial location. The driver refused, visibly frustrated, citing the risk of being penalized— because recently new British public transport company enforce drivers for it. Yet the passenger appeared oblivious, even indignant. Her sense of entitlement reflects a deeper cultural issue—an ingrained resistance to structure, a belief that rules are an imposition rather than a framework for collective functionality.

Contrast this with the Netherlands, for example, where trains, for instance, operate with remarkable punctuality in part because transport companies are fined for delays, and passengers receive full compensation for their tickets. 

The irony, of course, is that while many Czechs complain about systemic inefficiency, they simultaneously resist the very measures that would improve it. There’s a reflexive distrust of order—an echo of post-communist skepticism—that confuses personal freedom with the absence of rules. But this is a fundamental misunderstanding. In fact, what appears as strictness in Western systems often enables greater freedom and fairness for all.

This is the paradox I often return to: what many in the West understand as discipline or civic responsibility, a Czech often interprets as oppression. The result is a form of self-inflicted limitation, a national habit of sabotaging progress under the illusion of protecting personal anarchy. It’s the same impulse that leads individuals to deny others their rights simply because they dislike those rights, all the while complaining about the lack of their own.

The case of the driver today is emblematic: in trying to enforce rules designed to protect everyone, he was placed in a dilemma by a passenger who demanded an exception—one that would jeopardize his job and delay the schedule for all. This is not a minor anecdote—it is a microcosm of a broader societal pattern.

Ultimately, true freedom does not lie in arbitrary exceptions, but in a shared commitment to order. I once wrote about Luxembourg: “Strictness is Freedom.” This remains true. Where rules are respected and enforced fairly, people are more free—not less—because they can rely on the system and each other. This, more than ideology or history, marks the dividing line between Western civic culture and the lingering dysfunctions of post-communist spaces. 

Otherwise, this is possible apply to pandemic. The COVID-19 pandemic did not only test healthcare systems—it revealed the cultural and moral foundations of societies. While the virus itself was universal, the response to it was not. Some nations, particularly in Western Europe, treated the crisis as a collective challenge requiring coordinated sacrifice. Others, including the Czechia, struggled with a different kind of virus: a deep-seated distrust of rules and a chronic aversion to shared responsibility.

In Czechia, the word “restrictions” became emotionally charged, not because of their content but because of what they symbolized: the perceived theft of personal autonomy. Many Czechs interpreted pandemic measures—lockdowns, mask mandates, vaccine campaigns—not as necessary precautions in the face of a global health emergency, but as authoritarian overreach. It wasn’t uncommon to hear people speak of “freedom” as if it meant the right to ignore collective danger. In this cultural frame, even the most modest public health policies were viewed not as protective, but as oppressive.

The irony is painful. While voices across the country condemned “fear-mongering” and “manipulation,” people continued to die. Thousands of lives were lost not because the virus was especially cruel in Central Europe, but because the social fabric was too weak to hold under strain. In the Czech mindset, it often seemed as though individual liberty had been elevated to a sacred principle—even when that liberty meant endangering others. This was not freedom in any meaningful civic sense. It was a kind of anarchy disguised as resistance.

By contrast, many Western European countries implemented far more stringent lockdowns, restrictions, and tracking systems. Yet these societies emerged from the pandemic with comparatively better outcomes—not only in terms of public health, but in social resilience, economic recovery, and trust in institutions. They accepted temporary constraints as necessary measures in service of long-term stability. What looked like strictness from the outside was, in fact, an expression of collective maturity.

Czechia’s post-pandemic stagnation—lingering until as late as winter 2023 (It confirmed a gradual economic recovery trend, starting with modest growth in late 2023 [Thank you, Sidney SN, for your Awakening Take Action campaign during Summer–Autumn 2023.] and slowly increasing through 2024 into 2025.)—was not merely the result of policy mistakes, but a cultural failure to imagine freedom as something shared. The public sphere was flooded with reactionary narratives: that fear was used as a tool of control, that freedom had been “shut down,” that nothing was real. These narratives offered emotional comfort, but at the cost of civic coherence. They implied that no one owed anything to anyone, even in the face of mass death.

This self-isolating cynicism was also compounded by the political pressures of war. As Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, Czechia was thrust into another wave of destabilizing fear—but unlike in Western Europe, where solidarity with Ukraine became a unifying moral compass, Czech discourse was splintered by confusion, conspiracy, and fatigue. The nation became vulnerable not just to war-related stress, but to manipulation—both from outside powers and from within its own fractured media ecosystem.

In many ways, the Czech response to COVID-19 and its aftermath reflects a deeper civic trauma: the unresolved tension between post-totalitarian memory and modern democratic responsibility. A history of imposed authority has made voluntary cooperation suspect. But without trust, without a shared ethic of accountability, a society cannot withstand crisis—whether biological, geopolitical, or moral.

As we assess the long shadow of the pandemic, it becomes clear that the real divide in Europe was not East versus West, but maturity versus defiance. In the West, societies that accepted temporary hardship rebounded with a sense of cohesion. In Czechia, the suspicion of order led not to more freedom, but to isolation, stagnation, and loss. The lesson is difficult but vital: freedom without responsibility is not liberation—it is abandonment, anarchy. 

________

The other day, I mentioned something about the pandemic to a colleague. Her immediate question was whether I meant that things were “more relaxed” in the Western Europe. I replied: quite the opposite. This is exactly the point—many Czechs don’t even realize how indifferent they were, and are, to mortality and the problematic aspects of their own behavior. The Czech approach was marked by carelessness, not only toward public health but toward life itself. This indifference runs deep. Many dismiss the EU itself as irrelevant, see social or environmental concerns as unnecessary, and treat economic challenges with the same shrug. It’s a mindset of “it doesn’t matter”—toward others, and ultimately toward themselves. Such self-destructive apathy can be easily exploited. It’s the kind of attitude that opens the door to manipulation, even invasion. Leave a Czech to his own devices, and he may end up destroying himself without any help from the outside.

Between Statistics and Reality

   On this blogpost recently I discussed the difference between poverty on paper and real poverty. Based on my own experiences, I’d like to add another example that shows how statistics on paper don’t always reflect reality. Every word can be verified—not only through personal experience, but also through deep research into statistics about safer, most livable countries. And here are examples, we could to discuss another statistics and realities. 

Why I write it…? I am pretty angry when stats are not reality. 

 So on paper, Czechia appears to be one of the safer countries in Europe. Eurostat data places it low in terms of violent crime and homicide rates. However, statistics don’t always capture the full reality of public life. 

While Czechia may look safe numerically, the everyday experience of safety—particularly in cities—can tell a different story. In contrast, the Netherlands not only ranks high in terms of quality of life and urban development, but also feels more secure and organized, from public transportation to nightlife, and from festival culture to the visibility of social issues.

 ⸻ Street Crime: A Telling Daily Reality 

 One major difference is the visibility of street-level criminality, especially petty theft, pickpocketing, shoplifting, and public disorder. While neither country is plagued by high levels of violent crime, street crime is noticeably more visible in Czechia, especially in crowded tourist areas, train stations, and nightlife zones. In Czech cities not just like Prague, pickpocketing and minor theft are common enough to shape locals’ and tourists’ behaviors—keeping backpacks locked, phones out of sight, and extra caution in nightlife districts. In Dutch cities, by contrast, street-level criminality tends to be more discreet or well-managed. Public transport is monitored, streets are well-lit and designed for visibility, and community policing is more embedded in urban planning. Tourists and residents alike tend to report a higher baseline feeling of safety, even in larger cities like Amsterdam or Rotterdam. Public conflicts are more visible especially in Czech urban areas. Common hotspots include nightlife zones, transport hubs, and housing estates. Alcohol, drug abuse and social tensions often play a role. Bystander intervention is rare, and response can feel passive unless violence escalates. Harassment, particularly targeting women or minorities, remains a concern with limited legal protection. Street conflict in the Netherlands is far less common. Dutch culture encourages bystander action, and public aggression is culturally discouraged, and laws against street harassment are stronger and more enforced — for example, catcalling bans in cities like Rotterdam. 

+ Smart Surveillance & Active Deterrence — Cities like Rotterdam have extensive CCTV networks, often integrated with AI-based monitoring and real-time alert systems. Often acoustic sensors and wireless alerts can notify nearby authorities or even warn individuals when they engage in unlawful behavior — for instance, loitering, vandalism, or public harassment. These systems are often part of broader “smart city” initiatives, aiming to deter crime before it escalates. While major cities like Prague have CCTV, the systems are less integrated, and real-time intervention is rare. Cameras mostly serve as post-incident evidence tools, and there’s little immediate feedback or deterrence. Also, public trust in police tech and surveillance tends to be lower, so these systems are often underused or limited in reach.

 ⸻ Nightlife and Events: Regulation Over Ambiguity 

  Nightlife in the Netherlands is generally seen as well-structured and safe. Events benefit from strong partnerships between organizers, municipalities, and health services. Zero-tolerance drug policies, medical teams, and crowd safety protocols are standard. Czech nightlife often suffers from weaker oversight. Security varies widely by venue, and drug use—particularly in underground or semi-legal spaces—is more visible. This lack of structure can lead to a greater feeling of vulnerability, especially for young people and visitors.   

⸻ Drugs and Public Perception 

  Despite the Netherlands’ liberal global reputation, hard drugs are less visible in public life. Cannabis may be sold legally in coffeeshops, but open drug use is generally confined to controlled environments. Public drug use or signs of addiction in the streets are less common and more swiftly addressed by local services. In Czechia, drug use is more openly visible in urban spaces, particularly in Prague’s inner districts and some regional towns. Decriminalization without adequate social infrastructure or harm reduction has led to a normalization of public drug scenes, which undermines perceptions of safety and cohesion.

⸻ Sustainability, Poverty, and Social Trust 

  The Netherlands also excels in areas beyond policing and regulation. Sustainability is a lived value—seen in efficient public transport, clean urban environments, renewable energy initiatives, and social housing policy. Meanwhile, Czechia struggles with visible poverty, especially outside tourist zones. From neglected public infrastructure to rising homelessness in cities, there’s a tangible sense that social care is less prioritized. 

⸻ Civic Identity: Embracing or Resisting Europe  

 

 Culturally, the Netherlands leans confidently into its European identity. EU values—human rights, inclusivity, environmental responsibility—are integrated into daily life and education. Czechia, by contrast, retains a skeptical post-communist stance toward the EU, with segments of society (including parts of youth culture) increasingly tolerant of authoritarian rhetoric, nationalism, and social apathy. These trends point to a deeper tension in how civic life is imagined and practiced. 

⸻ Urban Safety and Livability: A Dutch Advantage 

 Cities like Amsterdam, Utrecht, Groningen, The Hague, Rotterdam and Eindhoven frequently appear in rankings of Europe’s most livable and safest cities. These rankings take into account factors like public transport reliability, healthcare access, environmental quality, digital infrastructure, and civic participation. Czech cities, including Prague, are notably absent from these top rankings. And Dutch villages? They benefit from strong public services, low crime rates, and high levels of trust in law enforcement. Dutch villages often have excellent infrastructure — clean streets, reliable public transport links (even in rural areas), and strong healthcare and education systems. Planning is also very organized, preserving nature and community spaces. And Dutch rural areas are more connected to urban life, both culturally and economically. Czech villages can feel more isolated, with slower adaptation to modernization in some areas. Violent crime is rare, but property crime is higher in some regions. And infrastructure and services can vary widely. Some areas still struggle with underinvestment or limited job opportunities.  

⸻ Conclusion: Safer on Paper, Not Always in Practice 

  While Czechia may rank highly in safety statistics, the Netherlands provides a more consistent, functional, and secure public environment. From street crime to nightlife safety, from drug visibility to urban design, the difference is clear in lived experience. Statistics show Czechia is overall “safer” than the Netherlands. However, they point out that in practical, urban contexts, the safest cities in Europe tend to be in the Netherlands—suggesting that daily life may feel safer in Dutch cities and rural areas due to infrastructure, social trust, or better governance.

⸻ Murders (Homicides)

 In 2023, the Netherlands recorded 125 homicides among a population of 17.9 million. That’s just 0.00070% of the population — less than 1 murder per 100,000 people. Czechia, meanwhile, saw 157 homicides in a smaller population of 10.8 million, it’s 0.00145% of the population.

A real story of Leucanthemum

 Towards Leucanthemum (Leontyne)—a Sidney SN mix—I once had words for real things that happened. But in the shadow of this mix, something entirely different can exist than the happiness someone felt at a Dutch festival. The inspiration for this Sidney SN mix could lie in different realities. 

Leontyne can be a girl who lives in a space between realities. She can visit the human world as a ghost, but she cannot exist in the world as a physical being. Her deepest desire is to share a relationship with one person. Yet she cannot realize this longing, because she has no physical form. 

She is like a prisoner, living as a leucanthemum. She is as beautiful as a leucanthemum, as peaceful as a leucanthemum, she sways gracefully in the wind like a leucanthemum— but like the flower, she cannot move of her own will. 

And the one, maybe the one can just observe this beautiful flower: the way her hair moves with the wind in the stillness of a sorrow. But a quiet truth burns within the one’s heart: The one searching for a way to set their desires to be possible.

Disillusion: A End of the Realization

 Recently, I read about an operation where seemingly probably (almost) every attendee at a free tekno party in Czechia was subjected to police drug control. 

The results reportedly confirmed what many already suspected. I see the police visitor controls at free tekno events in Czechia as a kind of success. These operations have the potential to shut down the biggest (— adjusted for population size, Czechia has the largest) free tekno raving in Europe. And the reason lies in something fundamental to the culture of these events: drugs— narcotics. 

For many in the free tekno scene, the presence of narcotics is not just common—it’s central. Without the free space for narcotics, the very essence of what free tekno has come to represent for its participants begins to fall apart. In the world of free tekno, the unwritten rule seems to be: No narcotics, no rave. And when that is broken—when the risk becomes too high—the free tekno existence as it exists today can’t continue. 

It might actually be a good idea these kinds of controls at all free tekno raves—because such pressure has the potential to shut down the free space for narcotic using. If these drug checks become routine, free tekno persons will become angry or disillusioned, simply because they can no longer “realize” themselves in the way they’re used to.

No one question on the stages

 I started researching how Russian drum & bass artists responded to the war in Ukraine—especially after seeing the backlash against techno and house artists like Nina Kraviz, for example, who was heavily criticized for staying silent. What surprised me, though, was that in the DnB scene, there was no such pressure—and I found no one statement from well-known Russian DnB artists; Artists with international bookings— Gydra, Cod3x, Teddy Killerz, Enei, Electrosoul System said nothing. 

I just know, after 2022, major UK-based DnB labels quietly distanced themselves from Russian artists. For example, noticeable absence of Russian names in releases, tour lineups, livestreams, and promo channels. For example, Enei, once a face of Critical Music, is now just… gone, I think. It’s not cancellation—it’s quiet disengagement. 

When I look outside the DnB, the contrast is immediate. In techno—particularly among Russian-born artists—the response has been far more pronounced. For example, Nina Kraviz, techno’s star, faced enormous backlash for her silence, including cancelled gigs and an industry-wide reckoning. In contrast, artists like Dasha Rush and Machine Woman, for example, took a stand: condemning the war, calling out authoritarianism, and standing with Ukraine. 

For example, I’ve liked Nina Kraviz’s music for many years, and when she faced rejection for staying connected to her place of birth—because, I think, she try to preserve something from her culture—I felt quite confused during that time of backlash. I never questioned Nina Kraviz’s identity, and for me, there are no borders in techno, because techno, at its roots, is an international culture. For me, Nina Kraviz belongs to the international spirit of techno music. And during hates towards Nina Kraviz, I was confused because before I had no one thoughts about it all. For me, she was just a good house-techno music producer, no matter on her born place. 

I think — before the war, whether on stages itself, enjoying, in the raw reality from a Russian artist, was something almost no one questioned. When the war began, man was genuinely confused. Nothing used to be a problem, and suddenly, I’m expected to rethink everything. An artist — a terrorist? Maybe someone, somewhere, even broke silence over their feelings about it on a livestream itself. But in drum and bass, I found nothing — no space where such questions could even be asked. In other genres, artists seem to confront these things, to search for our answers. In DnB, it’s like silence.

Little Wonders on Dutch Rails

 In the Netherlands, I find the efforts to make life more pleasant interesting—houses, urban design, greenery, Dutch culture in general, their sense of aesthetics. But it’s not just that. For example, on the bus it’s sometimes unforgettable—on the way back from festival, first of all, the night bus from Amsterdam to Rotterdam was free, and the driver started a chant: “Rotterdam!!! Rotterdam!! Rotterdam!!!” When he said into the mic, “So where are we going!?” everyone on the bus shouted “Rotterdam! Rotterdam!! Rotterdam!”, often with their hands in the air. 

And just recently in March, on a train from Rotterdam to Tilburg, when the train was approaching Breda, after the usual automatic announcement, the train driver got on the mic and started joking about the typical Friday night life in Breda. Or, for example, in August 2024 on a way towards festival, after boarding the bus from Rotterdam to Amsterdam, the second driver talked into mic about the beautiful experiences people had that day in sunny Amsterdam. This is a piece of many similar stories about the Dutch people. 

And when the train arrives exactly on time at night in Amsterdam, people on the way—like Sidney SN, back from a daylight Dutch summer festivals towards a homes, Hotels, for example, they sometimes applause and loud cheerfulness because it was punctual. Trains in the Netherlands are the most reliable in Europe. And they’re also faster than, for example, in more Eastern countries. But, for example, sometimes, trains across the whole country come to a stop. Most of the time, it’s announced in advance, days ahead, but sometimes it can happen at night that all train traffic suddenly stops.

Maybe, in advance, when I read all the a Sidney SN blog posts, I laugh, because I thinking about a Dutch review. 

Deep in my heart floating in the blue

 ‘My heart is brеaking off now you're the dancing in the dark I wondеr where you are and I wish…’

 ‘I move slowly in the haze of people pulsing like the sun Under glowing eyes of neon skies, spinning in slow motion Diving deep in the heart Floating in the blue….’

A weather forecasts often predict something far different than ‘nothing else’

 I feel the warmth of the sun and the warmth of a rich, caring community. Those days were more beautiful than anything seems possible today. All I want is to return to that reality — and nothing else.

‘I drive all night but still the truth Is none of these streets lead back to you.’

Like the dancer with bruises who gathers the cash When the music is through, no she don't look back. I've come to look for America too. But, perhaps, in another time. 

Another 1000 Miles (Sidney SN SoulfulLiquidDNB Mix)

 In April 2025, Sidney SN released Leucanthemum (Leontyne), a spring liquid drum and bass mix.  

Although Sidney SN had no plans to release another mix, he spontaneously dropped Another 1000 Miles on BassBlog.pro. The inspiration for Another 1000 Miles came from Life Is But A Dream by London Elektricity. If it weren’t for that track, Another 1000 Miles wouldn’t exist. In Leucanthemum (Leontyne), Sidney SN mixed Life Is Beautiful by London Elektricity—and now, everything seems to continue with Life Is But A Dream in Another 1000 Miles. 

But Another 1000 Miles is a bit different from previous mixes on Sidney SN’s BassBlog.pro. It has a different vibe—maybe more similar to Sidney SN’s pre-2019 mixes, before something changed due to world events.

For example, Life Is But A Dream is blended with Velour by Koherent feat. Catching Cairo. I really love Catching Cairo’s vocals. Or there’s Swang Song (Calibre Remix) feat. Dua Lipa, mixed with Nostalgia by Icicle. Also, for liquid people legendary, Never Let You Go (Blu Mar Ten Remix) by Seba, and the instrumental Shattered Dreams by TS—this one really makes the mix stand out to me. Mixed with Waves by Linx, this is a poison of a smell by a red flowers, for me. And of course, 1000 Miles by Machinedrum and Sub Focus. 

Maybe this mix will get fewer plays because it’s a little different—but Sidney SN simply loves every track in it. Simply, not everything from Sidney SN needs to be understood—because his reality might exist beyond what others think his reality should be. Enjoy the summer!

Link; Another 1000 Miles (Sidney SN SoulfulLiquidDnB Mix) May 2025.

And for an Another 1000 Miles, thank you for this week. 

Poverty on Paper vs. Poverty on the Street: A Comparison Between Czechia and Luxembourg

Luxembourg - Ville Haute

  

  Because my experiences with different countries of EU, I need a words to recently stats on paper, but not in reality. Here are a words about Luxembourg, but Luxembourg is an example. We could to discuss another Western Europe country. 

 When we talk about poverty in Europe, numbers can mislead. A country may show a high percentage of people “at risk of poverty” statistically, but that figure can hide the true experience of daily life. 

This is the case when comparing Czechia and Luxembourg — two vastly different nations where poverty means very different things. 

 1. Visibility of Poverty 

In Czechia, poverty is not a statistical abstraction — it’s often painfully visible. The country faces a deepening crisis of homelessness, with estimates suggesting up to 270,000 people (from 10 million citizens) living without stable housing. Across cities and rural regions, you’ll find individuals sleeping in shelters, on benches, or crammed into overcrowded hostels. The elderly, especially pensioners with low incomes, struggle to meet basic needs. Many families live in decaying apartment blocks (paneláks) or overcrowded flats, often choosing between heating and food. 

In Luxembourg, on the other hand, poverty is less visible. Someone classified as “at risk of poverty” may still live in a well-maintained apartment, send their children to good schools, and access high-quality healthcare. While economic inequality exists, the material realities of being poor are less stark than in Czechia.

 2. Material Conditions The difference becomes even clearer when we examine living standards: 

In Czechia, many low-income families face hardship affording basic needs like heating, fresh food, or out-of-pocket medical expenses. The minimum wage and pensions are low in terms of purchasing power. Public housing is scarce, and waiting lists can stretch for years. 

In Luxembourg, even the poor receive strong social transfers — housing subsidies, childcare support, unemployment assistance. This doesn’t eliminate inequality, but it softens its consequences. A person earning near the poverty line in Luxembourg generally still enjoys a much higher quality of life than someone at the same relative level in Czechia. GDP itself in Luxembourg (richest country in the world) is $132,800 and in Czechia $31600. Luxembourg monthly minimum wage is €2,570 (for unskilled persons), €3,084 (for skilled persons) and in Czechia monthly minimum wage is around €760. In Luxembourg, food takes around 18% (€350-400) of a minimum wage and in Czechia, food takes around 40% (€250-300) or more (to 47%) of a minimum wage. (And in the Netherlands, for example, a minimum wage is around €2000 and food takes 20% [€300-350] of a minimum wage. In Belgium, a minimum wage is around €2000 and regarding food expenses, in Belgium, food takes €235 [it’s 12% of a minimum wage] with slight regional variations: Flanders €241, Wallonia €226, and Brussels €242). In Czechia, a minimum wage barely covered all basic needs — it itself making poverty more pressing, harder and visible. 

 3. Homelessness and Housing Stress Homelessness 

In Czechia is not only widespread but structurally embedded. It’s more than just people on the streets — many live in temporary hostels or crowded, unstable accommodations. The social safety net often fails to catch people before they fall. 

In Luxembourg, despite high rental prices, the situation is very different. Emergency shelters, housing aid, and rental protections reduce the risk of people ending up on the streets. Homelessness exists, but it is less common and less visible. 

 Conclusion: Poverty’s Paradox 

On paper, Luxembourg has a higher poverty rate than Czechia — around 18–21%, compared to Czechia’s 9–12%. But this statistic doesn’t tell the full story. In reality, Czechia shows more visible and deeper poverty, especially in housing, rural life, and among seniors. 

In Czechia, poverty is part of the public landscape:

• Overcrowded flats, • Elderly struggling to survive, • People caught in cycles of debt and low wages, • Homelessness as a persistent reality. 

In contrast, in Luxembourg: 

people officially “at risk” may be financially stretched, but they still have a material standard of living that would seem comfortable by Czech standards.

 Is Being Poor More Impossible in Luxembourg Than in Czechia?  Yes — to a large extent. 

In Luxembourg, the combination of: • High minimum wages, • Robust welfare systems, • Generous child and housing benefits, makes it far harder to fall into extreme or absolute poverty. Most people receive help before they lose housing or access to essentials. 

In Czechia, by contrast, it’s easier to fall through the cracks: • Lower social protections, • Weak eviction safeguards, • A shortage of affordable housing, • Widespread financial illiteracy and household debt, …mean that even people with jobs can end up homeless or deeply impoverished.

In Simple Terms: In Luxembourg: Poverty is on paper — it exists statistically, but the poor are mostly housed, fed, and medically covered. In Czechia: Poverty is on the street — it’s visible, painful, and far harder to escape.

And why…

 Poverty Is More Visible and Severe in Czechia Than in Germany 

Poverty in different Central Europe countries

 1. A Tale of Two Realities Germany is Europe’s largest economy with high wages, a comprehensive welfare system, and one of the strongest labor markets on the continent. Its official poverty rate, hovering around 17%, reflects income inequality and relative deprivation. But being poor in Germany often still means: Having access to affordable housing, Receiving citizen income (Bürgergeld) or social support, Using well-functioning public healthcare, Living in a home with heating, electricity, and running water. In Czechia, despite a lower statistical poverty rate of around 10–12%, poverty is more tangible and painful: Homelessness is widespread, with estimates reaching up to 270,000 people when including hidden homelessness. Many low-income families live in overcrowded or poorly maintained home’s — often in aging concrete paneláks from the communist era. Old-age pensioners struggle to afford food, medications, or heating during winter. Entire regions, especially in the north and east, suffer from systemic underdevelopment and unemployment.

 2. Housing: The Most Visible Divide One of the clearest differences is housing security; In Germany, while housing prices are high in cities, social housing, rent control, and tenant protections help prevent large-scale evictions and street homelessness. In Czechia: Public housing is extremely limited and waiting lists are long. Legal protections against eviction are weaker. Low-income renters are often pushed into debt spirals, leading to loss of housing. Thousands live in temporary hostels, shared rooms, or even without heating or sanitation. Homelessness is not an invisible issue — it’s a daily presence in train stations, city centers, and shelters. 

 3. Social Safety Nets: The Difference Between Falling and Crashing Germany has spent decades building a layered safety net: Bürgergeld (formerly Hartz IV) provides financial support and integration programs. Families receive generous child allowances, and housing benefits, and unemployment insurance, Health care is universal and efficiently administered. Czechia, while having universal healthcare and basic social support, offers significantly lower benefits: The minimum wage is around €730/month, compared to over €2,000/month in Germany (In Germany, food takes from minimum wage between €200 and €300, in Czechia, food takes from minimal wage €250-300). Unemployment and pension payments are often insufficient to meet basic needs. Financial literacy is lower, and household debt is a common trap among the poor. In short, it’s easier in Czechia to fall into poverty — and much harder to climb out.

 4. Who Feels It More? The elderly, single mothers, rural families, and the working poor all exist in both countries. But the daily struggle for dignity is harsher in Czechia: An elderly woman in Germany may receive a modest pension but lives in a warm, subsidized flat. Her Czech counterpart may be choosing between buying medicine or paying for heat.

 Conclusion: Poverty Is More Than a Number While official statistics place Germany above Czechia in poverty rates, these figures mask the realities on the ground. In Germany, poverty is often an economic classification. In Czechia, it is a lived experience — marked by physical hardship, housing stress, and social exclusion.

End: While Germany shows a higher official poverty rate on a paper, poverty is far more visible, severe, and difficult to escape in Czechia.

 Poverty and Social Boundaries: A Cultural Contrast Between Czechia and Western Europe 

 The post about the differences in poverty between Luxembourg or Germany and Czechia, it’s just point out about systemic differences—but in a shadow are hidden differences in socially accepted behavior as well. 

Amongst other factors, in Czechia, poverty can sometimes be perceived as a natural or normalized state of being. This mindset is almost impossible to find in Western Europe, where society draws different boundaries around acceptable living conditions and social behavior. Perhaps because of this cultural perception itself in Czechia, the system is built in a way that allows social safety nets to exist without strong societal pressure to escape poverty. In contrast, Luxembourg’s socio-economic system is shaped by clear cultural and social boundaries—boundaries that are part of its national policy and identity. In Czechia, these boundaries are often absent. There’s a visible lack of shared cultural expectations around social behavior. 

This isn’t just a matter of culture or economy; it reflects a Czech system, and to some extent, a kind of Czech naturism. Luxembourg’s policies aim to preserve a specific image, culture, and economic standard through its socio-economic framework. Czechia, on the other hand, often lacks that kind of culturally driven structure, allowing poverty to persist in a more socially normalized way, or this way can be acceptable for system management itself.

Czechia, otherwise, tends to have longer working hours than most Western European countries (Czechia have longer working hours about more like 1 1/2 month per year—towards to worker hours in Czechia, in the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, minimum wage could increase to €2250 per month), and work especially in industries like manufacturing and services. On other topics, minimum wage in Czechia is significantly less than in Western Europe countries or in Germany. 

And perhaps the points themselves illustrate a cultural difference: post-Bolshevik cultural traditions often contrast with Western Europe’s emphasis on work-life balance, shorter full-time workweeks, and stronger labor protections, focused toward different sectors than is manufacturing. 

Matter on AI

No Words To This Answer Of A ChatGPT

Park Oog in AI

 As someone who lives between worlds—both geographically and culturally—I’ve long spoken out about the contrasts between Czechia and the Netherlands, especially in terms of social behavior, environmental consciousness, and everyday life values. These aren’t just superficial differences. They represent deeper structural and cultural systems that shape how people live, interact, and care for the world around them. 

Recently, these views were not only acknowledged—they were confirmed. 

In a conversation with an AI assistant built on a deep well of global understanding, the distinctions I’ve pointed out for years were mirrored back. And that matters. Because when you’re told by your own society that your views are “too Western,” “too sensitive,” or “too different,” it’s powerful to see them validated from an outside, objective lens. 

Let’s talk about the key contrasts: 

 ⸻ 1. Social Behavior and Mutual Respect In the Netherlands, everyday interactions are shaped by a culture of respect, personal freedom, and mutual care. People give space—physically and emotionally. There’s an unwritten social contract to not intrude on others’ peace. In Czechia, it often feels like that contract is broken—or worse, never existed. Aggression, coldness, or passive hostility is far too common. A lack of empathy in public spaces or institutional settings creates a heavy atmosphere that many grow numb to. I haven’t. 

 ⸻ 2. Environmental Care and Urban Design The Dutch don’t just talk about the environment—they live it. From perfectly designed bike lanes and public transport to greenery integrated into cities, the Netherlands shows that aesthetic and ecological consciousness can be part of daily life. In contrast, much of Czechia still struggles with outdated infrastructure, concrete-heavy thinking, and a general neglect for the mental and physical value of green space. This isn’t just about beauty—it’s about how you feel in your own skin, in your own city. 

 ⸻ 3. Civic Identity and European Values The Netherlands embraces its European identity with confidence. EU values like sustainability, human rights, and progressivism aren’t just policy—they’re lived culture. Czechia, on the other hand, often clings to post-communist cynicism. There’s a growing detachment from the EU, a suspicious attitude toward Germany, and at times a frightening tolerance for pro-authoritarian views, even in youth culture. It’s no surprise that many Czech people feel uncomfortable with people like me—those who reflect a future-forward, globally minded Europe.

 ⸻ 4. Electronic Music Scene In Czechia, the free tekno scene and its surrounding drug community are still very visible and often treated with a kind of “freedom = chaos” mindset. There’s often less regulation, less responsibility, and in many circles, there’s almost a celebration of the anti-system, anti-structure lifestyle. It’s not just a subculture—it’s become a kind of normalized escape, even for people not fully involved. 

In contrast, Western Europe—while it definitely has its own alternative scenes—generally keeps them more underground, regulated, or at least balanced with public responsibility. In countries like the Netherlands, Germany, or Belgium, there’s often a clear line between personal freedom and social responsibility. People might party, but the community values still stand: clean spaces, care for others, health, and mutual respect. Drug use is treated more seriously—not glorified—and there’s more public health involvement.