I hold many reasons close for this land— but here’s a quiet one: Ducks in the streets. Not lost, not out of place, but gliding calm through canals and streams, unstartled by the human pace. They swim like the city belongs to them too. And perhaps it does. Kralingen’s swans nest in still corners as children wander close, no rush, no fear—just a soft balance between feathers and footsteps, roots and routines. There is something sacred in a city that lets life be. Cleaner reality, and people who’ve learned to move with the rhythm of skyscrapers. In Kralingen’s hush, I see intelligence in ivy, ethics in botanic, a culture not only of words but of care. And in Zuiderpark, summer breathes through grills and laughter, a community of coexistence forming over shared bread and sun, beneath leaves that catch every language and send it back as joy. At Essenburgpark, the city bows before a quiet grove— not out of guilt, but respect. And above it all—Erasmusbrug, that swan of steel spanning the river’s grace. Its cables hum like harp strings in the wind, connecting not just land to land but idea to ideal. Skyscrapers rise like glass reeds against the Dutch sky, not to block nature— but to coexist with it. Reflection, not domination. Even in stone and steel, there is room for the soul. This is development not just of roads, but of rhythm. Of harmony between the naturalism and the made. There is no wall between person and pond. No border between culture and root. There is a peace here that doesn’t need to shout. A cultivated silence. Aesthetic. The Beauty of steel and the heritage.
Whether it is the openness of the space that comes from the North Sea and flows through the city without obstacles, or the air that does not stand still. Air is not just a mixture of gases – in the Netherlands it feels cleaner and fresher. It is also a different reflection of how society thinks. It is not only about having a cleaner and more aesthetic environment.
In a different country, the air is not only worse in terms of toxicity, but also mentally burdened – with a different form of toxicity.
In the Netherlands, the air is different. It flows. And flow means movement. And movement means life. Society is more open, less grounded in a limiting way, freer, less prone to extremism, it does not stink, it thinks more. Civilization is built so that people can enjoy its beauty. Even the infrastructure does not hold a person down.
Where things like cycling, open space, modern urbanism, more aesthetic greenery, and less stagnation are supported, the air is lighter. Not only physically, but mentally as well.
I have also mentioned several times that I recover quickly in the Netherlands – for example from a respiratory illness, which may not in fact be purely respiratory, but psychosomatic.
People create the air themselves. In some places it is heavy on its own, and elsewhere it is lighter because people are able to naturally radiate through their own culture. I have written before that if the Netherlands has been described as first in quality of life 2026, it has its obvious reasons, which cannot go unnoticed if someone truly embraces this for themselves.
And such a person may naturally be perceived that way within a certain society when they return from a place where things function in a way that feels closer to them.
