Student life gets lost in flats without soul
After my first months of studying, I finally found a room on Kleine Berg, where I shared an upstairs apartment with nine others. Taking my parents' car, loaded with far too many boxes, I climbed the grand staircase to my new home. In the living room I found my roommates, a motley crew of gentlemen who each brought their own stories and habits.
Soon I learned more from the older students than I had expected. In the morning, I was pulled out of bed to watch the morning news together with a cup of coffee. Two cups of coffee later, tv-gymnastics show “Nederland in Beweging” (Holland in Motion) began, and everyone knew it was time to study. So I grew more and more into the rhythm of the house, and noticed how natural it was to become part of life there.
One evening, one of my roommates knocked on my door asking if I wanted to go play field hockey with him. Although I hadn't been on the field for months, I impulsively said yes. From then on, I trained with them every Wednesday and Sunday and soon joined the team, the same team I still play field hockey with every week.
Unfortunately, our house was being renovated at the end of the year, with no room for students after the work was done. It had been known for a long time that our house had to go; the temporary lease was also the reason I got in as a rookie.
This was not just a personal problem; it reflects a broader trend in Eindhoven. More and more student houses in the city center are disappearing, often to make way for luxury apartments or commercial spaces. The characteristic houses above the stores, once the domain of students, are becoming inaccessible. At the same time, we are referred to impersonal student apartments on campus or near the train station, large condominiums with flashy names but no soul.
Now, four years later and some years further in my studies, I often enjoy the tranquility of a room of my own. But it is exactly the combination of that tranquility and living together that makes a student house so special. Cooking together, studying together or just spontaneously sharing an evening's stories are the moments that really make a student house come alive.
These social interactions are an indispensable part of student life, something that is in danger of being lost in the impersonal anonymity of modern apartment buildings. In those new complexes, with their long corridors and standard kitchen blocks, those spontaneous encounters and the unique atmosphere that is created when you really live together disappear.
Wob Knaap is a student Data Science at TU/e. The views expressed in this column are his own.
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