In my village everyone knows everyone, the etiquette of greeting each other with 'good morning' is observed, and at any time you can be addressed by a random grandma who has known you since before you could walk. A ‘new build neighborhood’ is one new street with fifteen brand spanking new houses that swear at the old, prewar row houses in the next street. Outside the built-up area, halfway along the farm lane to the next village, stands a bus stop for the local bus, which goes once an hour. Pupil numbers at the primary school are dwindling and for years the supermarket has been ‘cooperative’ (read: the residents invest in it) because financial collapse would otherwise be assured.

I still remember how different everything felt when I eventually moved to Eindhoven. Suddenly I was a stranger to everyone and I was thrown back on my own resources. This anonymity was a joy to me. The city felt young, vibrant and worldly, while in my village it seemed as if time were standing still. Where else could I pass by a lesson in fire-breathing or sword fighting as I walked in the park. Or on a street corner see smartly dressed grown men engrossed in a game of Pokémon Go? And, let's not forget, the busses ran every ten minutes.

Students from Delft, Utrecht or Leiden have always told me the small villages are seriously despised in the big cities. Woe betide you if they haven't heard of your birthplace at the frat house. It is some kind of deep-rooted feeling of superiority that you come across not only in the typical student word ‘knor’ (which stands for ‘knows not our rules’), but which also finds expression whenever a Dutch person from the crowded west vacationing in the countryside mutters to themselves ‘well, the stores here close bizarrely early’. Even the lecturers correct a Limburg accent.

Fortunately, I have never detected this feeling among people from in Eindhoven. This may be because I have never had friends who belong to a student association, but also because as a city we have got our feet firmly on the ground (at least that's what I like to believe). It makes little difference where you are from, given that you are constantly surrounded by people from every corner of the world.

While writing this column, I tried not to end with the tired “oh, I can't help but be proud of Eindhoven”, but that's what it comes down to. I am proud of the fact that Eindhoven behaves a little less elitist than the average student city. And, to put it plainly, is a very nice place to live.