Passing by Tilburg

From Rotterdam the train runs south over the busy Maas River which itself is dwarfed minutes later by the wide expanse of the Rhine estuary.

North Sea weather moves quickly over these waterly lowlands bringing alternate sheets of rain or bursts of sunshine. There is a cool touch of autumn in the air today.

The train curves gently to the east leaving the mainline behind. In the distance a church steeple marks a small village. Green fields rush past the window. This one is full of tall corn ready for harvest. Big, fat cows occupy the next stretch, laying heavily in the damp grass, tails twitching.

Near Breda the fields give way to a new industrial park built in the Dutch style: low-impact, glass and chrome, each building separated by a small canal. Order and balance.

Beyond Tilburg, the woody terrain of eastern Holland begins. A lazy river meanders between the trees. A lone fisherman sits huddled in his waterproof cape. Geese rise up at the noise of school boys riding bikes along the path. On the horizon a bank of dark, ominous clouds signal a rainy evening.