Tennessee

A couple of hours journey and I am in a small town called 'Steenwijk'. The train rolls into a tiny two track station, one track going north, the other south. There is level crossing to get from the platform in between the tracks to the station house and the town beyond. I walk the few streets to the market square, which lives up to it name, it is really square. The town is spotless, sidewalks are clean, streets are empty and tidy. The square is the town's pride and joy, every building lining its four sides has been restored, brickwork is crisp, paintwork is gleaming and in the last light of day there is a shine to the place that pulls the ancient structures out of past centuries into the world of halogen lights and flatscreen displays. An old town with modern means.
There is a choice of restaurants, all variations on Dutch cosyness, dark brown wood and new world wines. In between them is the Tennessee Steak House with wild west paraphernalia, Indian clothing decorating the walls, feathers and arrows, lots of red and white and loud country music pouring non stop from car radio speakers set in the ceiling.
I pick a table and look out over the empty square. Order my steak, that's why I am there, and a diet Coke. I could be anywhere, but I am in Tennessee, Steenwijk.
See the world, nothing is real.