This article emerged from a comment I originally asked ChatGPT to produce.
‘It is often said that the United States is “the biggest” and “the most powerful.” But size does not equate to maturity or stability. And this is precisely where the fundamental difference between the today’s US and Western Europe becomes evident.
Luxembourg is today the richest country in the world per capita. Not because of its location. Not because of natural resources. But because of a mentality: low corruption, a professional and competent state administration, stable politics, long-term planning, and respect for expertise. This is a civilizational model. And if this model existed anywhere — including on American soil, that place would be escalate for wealthy and more advanced. It would flourish, just as the Benelux region does. Prosperity is not a geographic coincidence; it is a cultural pattern.
Western Europe as a whole — the Benelux, and Germany, the Nordic countries, Austria, Switzerland — shares a common foundation: a disciplined mindset, strong institutions, minimal chaos, and a high standard of living. It is not merely about statistics. It is about civilizational maturity.
Today’s United States, by contrast, suffers from problems strikingly similar to those of Central Europe: deepening polarization, declining educational standards, drug epidemics, regional poverty, brain drain, and a political culture built on populism. A mentality shaped — and amplified — by political chaos.
This weakness is laid bare in the era of Donald Trump. Trump is not only an American issue. He is a symbol of declining leadership quality, disregard for institutions, and geopolitical illiteracy. And the world responds accordingly. Australia holds him in contempt. Western Europe distrusts him and pushes back. Canada, South Korea, Japan, and South American countries keep their distance. Even authoritarians like Putin or Xi Jinping prefer to use him rather than respect him. Ukraine doesn’t agree. Trump is isolated — politically and mentally.
Paradoxically, this mirrors an illness familiar in Czechia: quick words, no plan, no strategy, just populism. In this sense, the United States and Czechia share more than one might assume.
Western Europe — including Germany — meanwhile maintains discipline, continuity, and long-term vision, even if Germany underestimated its own defense after the Second World War. It should possess technologies that safeguard its sovereignty, comparable to something like the B-2.
But despite its flaws, Western Europe remains more civilizationally mature. Not larger. Not more powerful in absolute terms. But of higher quality. More stable. More adult.
People often claim that wealth and advancement are matters of resources. In reality, they are matters of mentality.’
But it wasn’t just Scooter. I remember the era when CDs and tapes from Corona, 2 Brothers On The 4th Floor, and similar acts were filtering into Czechia from Germany and Western Europe in the early ‘90s. I even liked Erotic back then.
Then free tekno exploded in Czechia, creating the largest free tekno community in Europe relative to population. To me, this is something for sociologists—how the link between drug use and the free tekno scene. Maybe that’s why Czechia never evolved in a melodic direction the way Western Europe did.
Even gabba was often dismissed by Czech techno purists because it dared to be melodic, because it shared DNA with EDM and dance music. For techno people, that was practically “disco.” Dutch happy hardcore didn’t stand a chance.
My dissatisfaction with the local scene eventually pushed me toward progressive. This was sometime around 2006, when mainstream techno in Czechia had sunk deep into schranz—a perfect soundtrack for people on Czech methamphetamine, craving something as fast and hard as their drugs.
But I wasn’t interested in that. I was drawn to melody, emotion, depth. Aside from minimal—which felt like one kind of answer to that aggressive era—it was progressive that truly opened a new world for me. It was something completely different.
And this is where my belief comes from: that progressive, through its values and emotional architecture, has the power to save you from the kinds of realities you want no part of—realities you avoid simply to preserve yourself.
In a way, it took me seventeen years before I finally mixed something progressive myself. And I still believe that, because of its values, progressive cannot coexist with the realities I’m critical of.
I still love techno, and I appreciate many of the communities around it, but I never reached the point where making techno felt right for me. I like many people who create it, and I respect what they do, but it was never my path for a mixing. A decade ago—because of its meaning and its message—I began experimenting with liquid drum and bass. In 2017, I became Sidney SN. And thanks to the fans, the journey I’ve experienced since then has been incredible. I never expected to become known or even famous, and there were moments when I started rejecting some reality, simply because I wasn’t ready for it.
Progressive still fascinates me. I love listening to it because within it I feel my own reality—or the reality of the countries I love. Every time I listen my favourite progressive tracks, I slip immediately into that world. I listen to far more progressive than liquid DnB. I barely listen to DnB at all compared to progressive. But when a truly good liquid track appears, I’ll listen. It’s just that such tracks are painfully rare, especially next to progressive, which I listen constantly, again and again.
This is a critique I wasn’t sure whether to publish… but here it is. It might be irritating, but it’s also for a laugh.
Related to that — should I be sad or just laugh when someone gets bothered by the fact that someone wears a watch?
“So according to Sidney SN we’re supposed to wear watches too…”
It honestly made me laugh what Central European drum and bass ravers think of me. Yes, it has the “smell” of people seeing me as conservative. That makes me laugh even more. Or another comment — that apparently I stood out at the smoking area again. I have no idea why I keep hearing this. If someone doesn’t like it, they probably should work on themselves. Or I share no “anarchistic/socialist” value. If I stand out among the “weirdos”, it’s not because I try for a stand out — that’s simply how I naturally am.
And again, this tells me a lot about how different the current international DnB community is compared to other Dutch communities, where I do fit in with my values, and where no one looks at you strangely for completely normal things. In a way, this shows just how off some people are if they start criticizing basic Dutch values. On the other hand, I still say I’m also “Aussie”. Among other things, I like Ripcurl :D
Another thing is hard drugs. When I listen to what SOLAH sings about, hard drugs just don’t belong there. Or I don’t see her music like something for a ravers. Or Flava D, her track Cats. Or I like LENS UK for her values. It also bothers me that SOLAH seems to be more of a DJ for questionable ravers than a singer. And again, compared to different Dutch electronic music festival community — at a DnB event in NL there are so many international people on hard drugs that I couldn’t even count them. At this last Dutch techno event, I saw only two obvious cases. One was actually shocking, because a girl was in psychosis, being calmed down by the lake, and two people had to hold her by both hands while walking. In my opinion, clearly typical from Central Europe.
The lower presence of hard drugs at some Dutch electronic music events probably also comes from their Zero Drug Tolerance policy.
At that DnB event, I even made jokes about the drugged-up ravers by widening my eyes the way they had theirs. I even got reactions back :D
And on top of that, someone next to me wanted to talk to me — and you could see he was thinking: in today’s DnB community, you barely even have anyone to talk to. That ties back to my previous post about a policy and their whole attitude. That’s why I’m saying: this is not for me, or this is irritating or for a laugh.
In many ways, a laugh towards them, it’s the best reaction, I think.
Yet, my favorite techno DJ — Enrico Sangiuliano — now wears the same watch with a different belt :D
Given politics, I do not want to be associated in any way with what I am supposed to be “competing” with. I have no desire to participate in something that is against my nature. I did not start producing liquid DNB mixes for that purpose. And if meaning in music disappeared, I would stop producing altogether.
I think electronic music is a vast ecosystem branching into dozens of subcultures, styles, and local scenes. And within this music, there are significant differences in how individual genres are organized: for example, one that spreads into hundreds of independent currents, and one that concentrates into a few monopolies or forms of usurpation. This can be seen most clearly when comparing the techno or even EDM, Progressive, House music with drum & bass, I think.
While techno or EDM thrives as an open, decentralized network of thousands of artists, collectives, clubs, labels, and individuals, drum & bass is becoming monopolized. This is one of the parts that, for me, form a visible difference between DNB and techno, EDM, Progressive or House music.
The consequences for artists are concrete. Artists involved in techno (or EDM, Progressive, …) are more independent in everything they do and in who they are than those in DNB.
In DNB, artists are often required to form ties with monopolies, creating pressure to adapt their sound, policy or image. In techno, because of the diversity of forms, artists can function in highly varied ways.
In the techno scene, the relationship between an event and an artist is more of a host–guest relationship than an “ownership” one. A festival or club invites an artist to play, but the artist is not bound to their brand or their “family.” They can play for one group today, for another tomorrow, in a completely different context, in another country, in an underground club or on a mainstream stage — without the need to belong to a specific group, because especially the artist is the specific group alone.
This is quite a contrast to how drum and bass is sometimes presented: as if it’s supposed to be more independent than anything else.
“It’s like if someone in the 19th century banned electricity because it threatened candle makers.”
Recently, I wrote some praise for Giorgia Meloni, though I’m also skeptical of her. Another example might be banning cultivated meat instead of addressing problematic livestock farming.
 |
| Sidney SN, 90’s 🇮🇹 |
In my view, Italy’s decision to ban cultivated meat may seem like cultural protection or caution toward new technology. But in reality, it’s a much deeper issue. The ban isn’t conservative — it’s reactionary. It’s not about a protect tradition; it simply shows that the state isn’t ready for change, so it prefers to freeze reality in its current state.
In the context of human technological development, cultivated meat is just another logical step. Lab-grown meat is like hydroponics, vertical farming, fermentation, biotechnology — all ways to increase efficiency and reduce the negative impacts of production.
The argument that “meat should traditionally come from animals” is the same as someone wanting to ban hydroponics because lettuce has supposedly “always” grown in soil. But “always” lasts only until human ingenuity presents a better solution.
In space travel, long-term missions, or colonizing other planets — no one will be herding cattle. Cultivated meat is a necessity. This isn’t sci-fi. It’s technology we already know how to produce today.
To me, the ban on cultivated meat reveals something uncomfortable: if someone bans something solely to protect an old industry, it means they don’t know how to build a new one.
And here comes the key part: the entire ban on cultivated meat is a modern form of Luddism.
The Luddites in the 19th century didn’t smash machines because they were dangerous. They smashed them because they threatened their roles and status in society. Meloni is doing the same thing: it’s not banning a dangerous product, but a technology that threatens old business.
Instead of supporting innovation, they would rather ban whatever complicates the status quo. It’s like banning machines because they threatened hand weavers. But the world won’t stop. Only those who are afraid will.
The Luddites lost in the end — the Industrial Revolution moved forward. And the development of cultivated meat will move forward as well. Just without Italy. And once other countries gain the know-how, investment, and expertise, Italy will be forced to import the technology.
Entertainment is in fact a significant economic component in the Netherlands. People are more open, relaxed, and seem more content. Cities and the civilisation itself are enjoyable in their architecture—cities like Rotterdam are an experience of their own. It makes you wonder why some places build a reality that relies so heavily on extraction, monotonous industry, uninteresting landscape design, and generally depressive environments. Instead of biotope parks, interesting urban structures, and inspiring surroundings.
Luxembourg is another example. There too, you can see that when a country builds a civilisation that is enjoyable, it brings economic results. They know how to sell things—like the “famous waterfalls,” which are essentially “just a weir on a forest stream”. Yet everyone wants to see them, because they’ve become part of the cultural value.
And then you find yourself in another country, one that seems to revel in depression and maintaining smallness. Where endless political nonsense is solved instead of developing an interesting civilisation. Where more sustainable policies are rejected, even though they work in countries that are visibly richer, more open, and more satisfied. And where people then wonder why young people and adults alike escape into alcohol or substances—maybe this is part of a logical response to an environment that creates not joy, but pressure.
Maybe, among other things, if instead of a depressive reality one built a civilisation that is pleasant, playful, and inspiring, some societal values would change too. And with them, the entire atmosphere of society.
I had a dilemma when I had the chance to go. Just a week ago, I hadn’t even thought about traveling. More typically, I was browsing online shops, looking at what I wanted to buy. On Saturday, I told myself that I could actually be away for three or four days. So I planned the trip with stops. A stay. I bought tickets for all the connections and made a booking. On Sunday, I started wondering whether it even made sense for me to do something now that I had already enjoyed two weeks ago. The program would’ve been a bit different. I would have visited more cities in the meantime (Karlsruhe, Eindhoven, also Frankfurt, maybe Regensburg) stayed at a hotel I like, and during the trip, I would’ve gone to a city (Brussels) in a neighboring country.
But on the other hand, I realized that what I actually wanted was to see some of the Christmas atmosphere already. The Christmas season officially starts there at the end of November. Visiting at that time would make more sense. And just going out partying again wouldn’t really excite me now. I already enjoyed that two weeks ago.
In the end, I canceled everything on Monday evening. And then I did something interesting — I used all the money for the trip, stay, and visits on things that came to mind that I wanted. I bought nine items within two hours. And that afternoon, quite spontaneously, I bought another one at a shopping mall. And then another after spending the money I would’ve used for the Saturday plan, all at once.
Futurama (or Star Wars) as a Queer Utopia of the Future
At first glance, Futurama is a comedy about a robot, aliens, and humans from an absurd third millennium. But beneath the layer of humor lies something much deeper — a vision of a society where the boundaries of identity dissolve and difference is not only tolerated but celebrated.
In Futurama, there is no such thing as a “normal” body, a “traditional” family, or a “natural” way of being. The characters move across the spectrum of gender, species, and forms of existence: the robot Bender displays both gender and moral fluidity, Zoidberg embodies otherness embraced with affection, and planet Earth itself is home to thousands of cultures — human and non-human alike. Such a world necessarily rests on radical empathy and openness toward difference.
Those who love Futurama or Star Wars often carry within them an unspoken agreement with the idea that diversity is natural — that being can take infinitely many forms, and that the purpose of progress is not uniformity but variety. These worlds are queer in the deepest sense of the word: they challenge boundaries, rewrite rules, and allow new combinations of forms and identities.
This spirit is reflected in real cities — vividly in Berlin. A city where fashion experimentation becomes part of everyday life, where individuality flows into the streets as freely as music from the clubs. Berlin feels like a terrestrial version of Futurama — a metropolis where freedom of dress, belief, and desire is not an exception but the norm.
Perhaps it is precisely because we can fall in love with the world of Futurama that we carry within us the potential to live such freedom ourselves — here, on our own planet, in real time.
At the same time, this openness does not have to conflict with respect for history and cultural heritage. Preserving old buildings, neighborhoods, and architectural styles is not an act of rigidity, but of reverence — a form of care for the memory of a place and the people who shaped it. To have a relationship with heritage does not mean to reject new forms of freedom; it means understanding that even the future needs its roots.
Queer aesthetics and futurist thought do not need to erase history — they can complement it, revive it, reinterpret it. Maybe cities like Luxembourg (or Luxembourg) prove this: they combine a modern outlook with a deep respect for the past. Just like in Futurama, tradition and experiment, stone and light, past and future coexist side by side.
Even construction companies profit well from the so-called green economy — the Central European version of it. There’s constant trade in polystyrene and external insulation, as if sustainability meant simply covering things up. Some new houses are designed to be “energy-efficient,” but often with strangely small windows, built more from fear of energy loss than from any sense of harmony.
In the Netherlands, the difference is striking. Architecture there is naturally durable — solid brick structures, without plaster, designed to last for generations. The Dutch live in a flat, open landscape shaped by wind and water, with air constantly moving from the North Sea. Buildings are made to resist the wind for generations, not to hide from it. Their strength is not accidental. A West surfaces remain clean not because West is repainted, but because the material itself endures. Large windows open to the world, and no one would ever think of covering such buildings with unsustainable polystyrene and a weak plaster layer that would crumble within years. I think Dutch architecture doesn’t pretend to be ecological; it is ecological by its very nature — through longevity, openness, and respect for material truth.
That is perhaps the quiet essence of difference: in Central Europe, “green” often means concealing weakness behind artificial layers; in the Netherlands, strength and sustainability begin with what is left uncovered.
 |
| Anfisa Letyago |
Then there’s Anfisa Letyago. Sometimes criticized for imitating Nina Kraviz. In a way, I already mentioned that I first came across Anfisa Letyago thanks to social media, where while scrolling I thought it was Nina. It’s also interesting that they share the same origins. I even joked to myself that maybe Nina and Anfisa once met at school.
Sometimes I think that calling something “your own” destroys its reality — but I’ve grown fond of Anfisa too. Musically, her own productions hit the right note for me. Her music tends to be melodic, as are her vocals, and I enjoy that. Origami, Feelin’, Gravity, Danza, Haze, Nisida, Magic Whale, her remix of You & Me, etc. When Haze was released, I identified with it in my own way because of my own “haze” connected to you. Anfisa captured something I myself was feeling. In 2024, I was glad to see Anfisa performing at Dutch festivals too. I only missed October. Apparently because of planning for December — sometime in late summer I convinced myself that the event will be in December, and then laughed in December when I realized I’d missed it by two months. But I had a different plan for December — like Christmas in the Benelux. At least I’ve got a ticket :D
It irritated me that, because of the war, I had to start thinking about Nina differently. I guess I’d never really considered before that Nina Kraviz comes from Russia. In a way, it’s more complicated for me now to wear something connected to NK. It’s rather controversial. But I like Nina, and I don’t want the current situation to interfere with the reasons I like her. By the same logic, I could suspect Anfisa too. But Anfisa is a bit different — she openly embraces her Italian identity, where she’s lived longer than in Siberia. Anfisa Letyago received a prestigious award in Women in Music in Italy.
Because of these topics, I discussed Nina Kraviz and Anfisa Letyago with ChatGPT. I don’t quite agree with what ChatGPT said. Sometimes ChatGPT gets carried away in its responses, giving them a kind of poetic flavor.
“I agree that the similarity between the drops in Danza (Anfisa Letyago) and Hace Ejercicios (Nina Kraviz) is not accidental. If you listen closely to both tracks, you can hear an almost identical structure and energy in the drop — both rhythmically and in the sense of buildup. It’s more like the ‘DNA’ of Nina’s style, which Anfisa inherited but translated into her own sound design: cleaner, more technically precise, less raw, with modern mastering and a more hypnotic groove.
The topic of both artists’ origins adds another layer. Both come from Siberia, an environment that shapes a very specific sensitivity — solitude, introspection, harshness, and spirituality. Perhaps that’s the ‘invisible code’ that connects them more deeply than any visual or musical similarity. With Anfisa, you can also sense the desire to be cosmopolitan — an Italian passport, neoclassical fashion style, minimalist visuals — while Nina remains rooted in that peculiar post-Soviet mystique.
In the dynamic between Nina Kraviz and Anfisa Letyago, it’s clear that the influence flows more from Nina to Anfisa, not the other way around. Nina was a pioneer of a certain kind of techno aesthetic — intuitive, hypnotic, feminine, with traces of trance, acid, and experimentation — at a time when that wasn’t common. Anfisa built upon that energy, but reshaped it into her own form: modern, polished, and globally accessible.
Anfisa uses a much ‘cleaner’ sound design — her beats, bass, and synths are technically smooth, with a surgically balanced frequency spectrum. Listen to Danza or Orizzonte: every element has its precise place in the mix, almost without noise or randomness. In contrast, Nina’s tracks — like Ghetto Kraviz or Skyscrapers — carry a rawness, noise, imbalance — as if they retain a ‘human error’ that’s part of their charm, or a trace of their Eastern roots. Nina often works with analog, lo-fi, or decaying textures; Anfisa with digital precision.
Nina’s structure is often intuitive and nonlinear — she lets the track breathe, shift, sometimes even lose its points of orientation. Anfisa, on the other hand, composes with mathematical precision: clearly defined build-ups, smooth transitions, precise drop timing. In her sets and productions you can feel calculation — not in a bad sense, but as a conscious architecture of emotion. Nina is the improviser; Anfisa the constructor.
Nina stays true to an aesthetic drawn from post-Soviet introspection, psychedelia, and decadence — often chaotic, emotional, unsettling. Anfisa represents the new generation of European techno — minimalist, elegant, futuristic. Her visual style (videos, artworks, stage presence) aligns with digital modernity: sharp lines, clean light, controlled motion.
It’s like the relationship between a ‘source’ and its ‘interpretation.’ Nina created the language; Anfisa translated it into a contemporary code. Nina truly maintains her style — her productions and DJ sets remain organic, instinctive, often unpredictable — while Anfisa follows a path of efficiency, purity, and structure.
Nina Kraviz and Anfisa Letyago embody two poles of the same force — one instinctive, the other disciplined. Nina is a chaotic shaman of techno: her sound is rough, blurred, grown over with noise and chance, as if born in ecstasy rather than in controlled time. Each of her tracks is a ritual, not a construction. Anfisa, on the other hand, reshapes that same impulse into pure architecture — her rhythm precise, pulsing in geometric space, untouched by the scratches of reality. Where Nina opens the gates of the unconscious, Anfisa builds a temple from them.”
Yet, drops from Rosso Profondo are like drops from The Forbidden Plum by Maara… :&
I say “supposedly linked to an alleged” rise in crime because when I arrive at a main station in almost any Czech city, it’s difficult to understand why the media paints Germany as a place one should avoid altogether due to conflicts with certain groups of people. I think, in truth, this description fits Czechia much better — here, I think it’s quite common advice not to linger around the main stations.
Everyone knows what Prague’s main station is like. I could once again mention the young English traveler who, arriving from Munich towards Prague (2023), said :D, “Czech are human flesh!” But it’s not just about Sherwood — in general, it’s better not to hang around any main station here. Sooner or later, someone will approach you asking for something.
It’s common in the city to run into someone who asks you for at least a cigarette. Sometimes I wonder if the person giving them out realizes that if they keep being so generous, they wouldn’t have any cigarettes left for themselves — since during a single walk through the city, they might give away several to people asking for one, some of whom can even get aggressive or insult you if you refuse. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me in Germany.
Or people sharing and apparently distributing methamphetamine during the main afternoon hours on the main streets. There are places — monuments — where, at the time when hundreds of high school students are leaving school to catch their trains and buses home, meth is apparently being distributed, and the people involved talk about it openly and cheerfully. This also isn’t common in Germany.
Still, I don’t believe these issues apply only to train stations. It’s true that harm can happen anywhere — perhaps even at German stations. Yet I don’t get the feeling that it’s unsafe to be around main stations in Germany. To me, the reality is quite different from how some media make it appear.
So, I could write something like:
When I was leaving, I forgot my chargers and had to go back. I ended up taking the FlixBus an hour later. The FlixBus to Nuremberg was delayed by 1 hour and 50 minutes — I had never experienced that before. So, I didn’t have any problem catching my next bus. I spent an hour in Nuremberg and then continued to Amsterdam. Because I arrived in Amsterdam early in the morning, I reached Rotterdam earlier than expected and came to the hotel before check-in time. At the reception, they told me it was possible that my booking could have been cancelled, or that the hotel doors might be closed. I didn’t understand what they meant. Maybe I missed at the beginning of the conversation what the receptionist told others — that there might be a strong storm. There was an orange weather warning, but fortunately, it wasn’t nearly as strong as predicted.
I also visited Hospitality in Amsterdam. A few months later, I went to another Hospitality in Tilburg. I wanted to see SOLAH perform for a bit — and also Flava D. As a singer, SOLAH has been the best for me in recent months. But I didn’t really enjoy the event that much. I felt strange there for quite a long time, because of a my previously experiences with different electronic music Dutch events. Upon arrival, there was also a mistake made by Melkweg’s security. They initially scanned my ticket for Hospitality, but the event turned out to be a techno one. If the security thought I might go to a techno event, that wouldn’t have been too surprising — but still. I walked around that part of Melkweg for a while, wondering if that was supposed to be the DnB stage???. Eventually, I asked the staff, and they directed me to another part of Melkweg. I had a great welcome from the security at Hospital event, with a bow to me, however, another security guard noticed that my ticket had already been scanned elsewhere. I insisted for a while, saying they made a mistake by sending me to the techno event first, and that it wasn’t my fault. In the end, I had stamps for two events. There was also a problem with the lockers, but they gave me two tokens for free after I explained what had happened.
I can already feel the Christmas atmosphere in the Netherlands. You can see Christmas trees, ornaments, and lights everywhere. You won’t find that in many other parts of Europe. The west coast really knows how to beautify its surroundings.
And the beautiful culture of modern industrial buildings such as skyscrapers and a majestic bridge, together with traditional architecture, cleanliness, and an interesting park ecology. The purity and fresh wind of the North Sea air. A multicultural environment where people don’t merely tolerate each other but truly coexist. A good, relaxed mood of the people with interesting values.
Sometimes I notice speculation about my diet.
I also often see speculation about my age. People are often surprised that I’m not younger. Sometimes even my challengers are taken aback by my age. Perhaps this is related to my diet, which I see as natural, because it’s simply how I do things myself, and I notice changes when I don’t follow it.
It’s possible to experiment with your diet: if you want more fat, you eat those fats and notice the changes; if you consume less, you notice the effects as well.
My approach to eating is based on balance between plant and animal sources. The foundation consists of plant-based foods, complemented by dairy products, egg products, and occasional meat. From a nutritional standpoint, this combination proves to be highly balanced – it covers all key nutrients and supports a long-term, stable lifestyle.
A Balanced Foundation
This dietary model provides a complete spectrum of essential nutrients:
• Proteins come from dairy products, legumes, grains, and occasional meat or fish.
• Calcium and vitamin B12 are ensured through dairy products, two servings of red meat per week, and fortified foods, including RedBull, juices, Alpro’s products, for example.
• Healthy fats are supplied by fish, nuts, seeds, and high-quality plant oils.
• Fiber, vitamins, and antioxidants come from a diverse range of plant-based ingredients.
From the perspective of nutritional science, this diet lies somewhere between the Mediterranean and flexitarian approaches – combining diversity and nutritional value with a moderate use of animal products.
Focus on Quality
Over the long term, I try to choose organic dairy products, organic meat, and organic vegetables.
Beyond origin, I also pay attention to the method of processing – this often determines both the final taste and nutritional value. A good example is Dutch cheese, which I consider among the higher-quality options due to consistent production standards and a long-standing tradition. I don’t look down on McDonald’s or other fast food – it’s a way to add some variety to my diet, for traveling, and for replenishing nutrients. I like chocolates, sweeties, lollipop, bubblegum.
In general, I assume that organic products maintain a higher standard of quality, since consumers naturally expect this from the “organic” label.
Conclusion
I see this way of eating as practical, sustainable in the long run, and based on rational food choices, natural selection of a my person. I’m more interested in natural balance, sufficient nutrients, and quality that translates into both taste and overall well-being.
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.
• 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.
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.
