#taxi utrecht centraal

[taxibellenutrecht]

The Benefits of Choosing Private Transport in Utrecht: A Taxi Utrecht Perspective

When navigating a bustling city like Utrecht, private transport offers a level of convenience, comfort, and reliability that public options can’t match. Among the many choices available, Taxi Bellen Utrecht stands out as a trusted name for safe, efficient, and professional taxi services. Whether you’re heading to Utrecht Centraal, planning a trip to Amsterdam, or just exploring the city, choosing a taxi can make all the difference.

1. Convenience and Accessibility

One of the primary benefits of private transport is its unparalleled convenience. With Taxi Bellen Utrecht, you can book a taxi anytime, anywhere. Whether you need a ride to taxi Utrecht Centraal for a train connection or want a hassle-free journey to taxi Utrecht Amsterdam, private transport eliminates the stress of waiting for public transport or dealing with crowded buses.

Additionally, Taxi Bellen Utrecht operates 24/7, ensuring that you always have a reliable option, no matter the time or destination. This round-the-clock availability is particularly beneficial for travelers with early flights or late-night arrivals.

2. Comfort and Privacy

Traveling in a taxi offers a level of comfort and privacy that public transport cannot provide. Whether you’re on a business trip or simply enjoying a leisurely ride through the city, Taxi Bellen Utrecht ensures a clean, well-maintained vehicle for every journey. For solo travelers, couples, or families, private transport guarantees a peaceful environment where you can relax, make calls, or even catch up on some work while on the move.

3. Expertise and Local Knowledge

Navigating a city like Utrecht can be challenging, especially for visitors. However, Taxi Bellen Utrecht employs experienced local drivers who know the best routes to avoid traffic and get you to your destination quickly. For instance, if you’re traveling from taxi Utrecht Centraal to explore the historical sites or planning a trip via taxi Utrecht Amsterdam, their drivers ensure you experience a smooth and efficient ride. Their familiarity with the city also allows them to suggest scenic routes or hidden gems to enhance your journey.

4. Cost-Effective Travel

Many believe that taxis are more expensive than other modes of transport, but Taxi Bellen Utrecht offers competitive rates that make private transport affordable. With transparent pricing, there are no hidden costs or surprises, even for longer journeys like taxi Utrecht Amsterdam. Additionally, the convenience of door-to-door service saves both time and effort, making it a valuable investment.

5. Safety and Reliability

Private transport services like Taxi Bellen Utrecht prioritize passenger safety and reliability. From well-trained drivers to vehicles equipped with modern safety features, your well-being is always a top priority. This makes taxis an ideal choice for individuals, families, or groups who value dependable transportation.

Conclusion

Choosing private transport in Utrecht, especially with a trusted service like Taxi Bellen Utrecht, offers a host of benefits. From the convenience of taxi Utrecht Centraal pickups to seamless journeys via taxi Utrecht Amsterdam, their service is designed to cater to diverse travel needs. Whether you’re a resident or a visitor, opting for a private taxi ensures a comfortable, safe, and stress-free travel experience.

So, the next time you’re in Utrecht, make your journey memorable with Taxi Bellen Utrecht—your trusted partner for private transport!

[liaincursives]

These feelings I got/ Lucas season

Previous part / all parts together on ao3

I guess the person who is picking Lucas up is someone we know very well, isn’t he? 

Saturday, 12:56

He already disliked Antwerp. During the last weeks, he had been here two or three time to take a part of his things to the way too big apartment his dad lived in, but he had barely seen the city. Now, he was leaving the train and he wished he could just turn around and go back home. 

Everyone around him seemed to have a clear goal, determined men in suits were walking towards the row of yellow taxis, probably on their way to their families after a week of work in the Netherlands or to some fancy lunch to make bounds with some super important business associates. A girl, not even three years younger than almost ran into him, as her small and slim figure made a way through the people. Her goal was a nervous boy with a bouquet of flowers between his hand, who was totally thunderstruck in the moment he saw the girl, but then his face lit up and in the moment she reached him, he lifted he girl off the floor and kissed her. The only other person that was as lost as him was an old lady with a pillow out of grey curls around her head and a basket full of groceries in her hands, but then, she saw someone across the platform and Lucas was the only person left, not knowing what to do next. 

He might would have been able to find the way to the apartment by himself, Google Maps existed for a reason, but his second bag was laying heavy in his hands and his hangover from yesterdays’ party was way too bad to skate the way without getting seriously injured, so he was waiting for whoever his dad had sent to pick him up. 

He took his phone out of his jeans. There was one text from his dad, which he ignored straight away, and a few messages from his friends. He took a picture of the big sign saying “Antwerpen Centraal” and sent it to the group chat with the boys to let them know that he had arrived. His mom had sent him some bible verses about starting a new life, which answered with a short text that he was in Antwerp now and everything was working out. 

“You. Are Lucas, aren’t you? Oh god, I almost didn’t recognise you, I mean, it’s been a while”, a voice said and Lucas’ gaze leaped up. In front of him, the eyes of a guy that was probably two or maybe even three years older than him were wandering down to Lucas bags, then he looked up and smiled at him. He was wearing a yellow t-shirt and with the brown curls and the brown eyes, he immediately reminded Lucas of the old pictures of his dad. His eyes were gleaming out of excitement. “Hi… Uhm, you’re Milan, right?” Lucas said. The last time he had seen the son of his dads sister had been a while ago, but his aunt had been good friends with his mother, so even after Lucas’ parents broke up, she  came to visit her a couple of times, so he had seen pictures of his cousin and he knew that he had moved to Antwerp for University two years ago. “Yes, your Dad told me I should do the welcome committee, so welcome in Antwerp”, Milan said and took one of Lucas’ bags, like taking care of younger teenagers was all-day business for him. He was talking about the huge party they had at his  at his flat share the other evening, but Lucas couldn’t really pay any attention to the story. His head was full of the things that happened  in the last week and he would have preferred silence to get used to the fact that this was his life now, even though he realised how much this guy reminded him of Ralph as he was following him through the station, carrying his skateboard, his backpack and the wish to catch the next train back to Utrecht on his shoulders. 

next part

[rotzaprachim]

the closest to heaven that i'll ever be (Kanej Guardian Angel AU)

From @elorcaning‘s prompt of Kaz just being an idiotic human getting in trouble all the time and inej is his guardian angel just trying to keep him from dying while doing stupid shit, which I thought was a BRILLIANT idea and kinda ran with. At 1 AM while on jetlag so I Apologise. 

Props to @kettvrdams for not killing me when i sent an incomprehensible WIP for her to beta. All accidentally unfinished sentences and spelling errors are entirely My Own Fault 

On AO3 - 1816 words, Teen

In her illustrious career as a guardian angel, Inej has learned several things. The first is to believe in the fundamental good of all people- well, almost all people. Almost. But really, she likes to think the best.

The second thing is that no matter how hard she tries- and damn, she really tries hard- humans will still find ways to screw their own lives over, and even if her role is supposed to be more hypothetical or spiritual than anything, she always finds herself getting involved in more practical ways.

But still she thinks, as the poor Dutch farm kid tries to eat fertiliser from the container for the third time, only to be shooed away by his older brother, that this is going to be a challenge.

--o0o--

“Organised crime? Really?” sneers a figure in the corner of the precinct station with their dark hood pulled down low. Kaz glances around. There isn’t anyone else around aside from the beat cop who’s just let him out of the holding shell with a glare and a kick to his good shin.

The figure pulls their hood down. It’s a girl about his own age. Looks like a university student, with a purple jacket and a rain slicker.

She holds out a plastic Albert Hejn bag. Ah. So this is what it’s about. Per Haskell, Pekka Rollins, whoever the fuck it is this time, want him to move something. Cash, drugs, fucking tulip bulbs for all he knows. He doesn’t really care, as long as he’s alive on the other side of it.

But it isn’t really heavy enough to be either of those things.

“You haven’t eaten anything in over twenty four hours.”

He doesn’t know how she could possibly know that, but when he looks inside, what he finds is a cheese sandwich and a bottle of orange juice. Sealed, so it would have been goddamn hard to hide a USB or whatever it is Pekka wants out of the country inside.

“Who sent you? Pekka? Ferry Bouman? Sonny Castillo?”

“Are those the only things your mind goes to?” Now the girl just sounds annoyed.

“I’m not in the habit of beautiful girls meeting me in police precincts without having some other angle they’re working. So what is it? Who do you work for?”

Beautiful girl. He didn’t mean to say that. He’s a lot of things, but a flirt isn’t one of them. Yet even in the yellowy light of the precinct, he can tell that's what she is, with her heart-shaped face and the fan of her oil-dark hair.

“Eat your damn sandwich” she says, and is gone before he can say anything else.

--o0o--

“Don’t get too involved,” says Zoya.

“The job description is guardian angel, ergo, I guard.”

--o0o--

Organised crime. Really. Perhaps not in the highest echelons, and it’s fucking Amerstedam, but still, organised crime.

Sometimes she really doesn’t think he’s organised enough to get mixed up in organised crime.

--o0o--

“Genuine Givenchy. Also got Rolex watches, Hugo Boss shirts-” he offers the middle-class housewives out on a girl’s trip to Amsterdam. The back of the florist’s he’s operating out of is packed with genuinely decent-looking fakes. It’s also on Sonny Castillo’s territory.

“Best space brownies in Amsterdam,” he promises a group of tipsy Erasmus students from Manchester with a smile that’s the image of sincerity. The coffee shop is on Ferry Bouman’s territory.

“Now this is a real Vermeer,” he tells the new-money-oil-don looking for a bit of old-school, Cultured, flash for his new penthouses in Dubai and London. The art gallery is on Pekka Rollins��� territory.

--o0o--

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Inej tells her boss.

--o0o--

“You think I can’t smell a rat, Brekker? You don’t fucking think I can’t tell when some bastard ratfuck tries to fuck me over?”

There have been many points during which Kaz thought his ass to be well and truly cooked. Almost drowning in the harbour in Rotterdam when he was twelve was certainly one of them, but it was also far from the last.

But now he’s got a gun to his temple and there’s no more talking he can do, not one more trick more trick up his sleeve or one more secret he can leverage into five more minutes, ten more minutes, another day to make things right.

There’s just him and a dark alley at the edge of the city and the freezing rain, pelting down and soaking him to the bone. And the angry hands slamming his face into the alley wall, over and over again, until blood runs down his face and chest and the rainwater tastes salty.

“Please. A week. No, a day, I’ll make it up-”

“Like last time you promise me, huh? Promise me twenty thousand? And then I find out you shelling out ten thousand Euros to Ferry Bouman to keep selling on Pekka Rollin’s turf. He ain’t gonna forget this, boy-”

“Ten thousand. I can get you ten thousand, you know I can-”

He sees the flash of a gun being raised, can almost feel the air change as the man pulls back the trigger, and then-

Like a flash of lightning, the moment after the fireworks go off. Light everywhere, the snap of sound of thunder, condensed, and then-

In the moment after the light, Kaz can’t see a thing. And then he can: the three grunts Pekka sent after him, lying in an alley, and the remains of several guns, incinerated to crisps. And the flash of something, a person maybe, going around the corner.

“THE FUCK ARE YOU?” He screams into the pouring rain, but no response comes back.

--o0o--

Sometimes, Inej wants to scream at him so loud he can hear it.

“And what were you expecting, exactly? Why can’t you just. . . .” she thinks of the words she hears people using, these days, “stay in your darn lane? You waste your mathematics scores dealing. You waste your German scores on conning tourists. You just . .. you waste your life.”

He’s had the pinched face of a businessman, and an older man, since his parents died. Since his brother died, and he spent his youth pinballing between foster homes and getting increasingly involved in things that the Korps Nationale Politie tend to take a rather dim view of. In all that time, though, she’s rarely seen fear on his face like this. She almost wants to reach out, across the train, tuck the edges of his carefully slicked-back hair back behind his ear, but she doesn’t.

“Why couldn’t you have just . . . stuck to selling overpriced marijuana to tourists or designer knockoffs from behind a tulip stand? Forging Vermeers? Stealing actual Vermeers?”

--o0o--

It’s only when he gets off at Utrecht Centraal that he notices an unfamiliar weight to his jacket pocket.

A neatly folded wad of cash. He flips through it gingerly. Twelve thousand euros.

--o0o--

“You can’t save his ass every time. Otherwise, he’ll never learn, and he’ll go beyond the point where you can save him.”

“But if I don’t save his ass now, he’ll die before he can learn.”

“Ah. That’s the eternal conundrum, isn’t it? Of the teacher and of the guardian angel.”

--o0o--

It’s not a particularly big country, but every time the train ride seems to last all day, and stretch into the night. Inej, at least, doesn’t need to buy a ticket. He buys flowers at Amsterdam Centraal. Changes trains at Maastricht and then again to a rural line, until he gets off at a station that’s nothing more than a strip of concrete alongside the track in a rain-soaked wheat field. There’s no taxis, no buses, only a long road through the countryside and the remainders of a life he’s tried to forget about at the end of it. He unfolds his walking cane and gets a move on.

On a hill, on a farm where the apple orchards have gone to seed and the roof of the house fallen in:

Annemarie and Jawad Rietveld. And a scratched out stone for Jordaan Rietveld.

He leaves the flowers, not particularly giving a fuck about the fact that he could be shot, right here and now, by Pekka Rollins, because this is Pekka Rollins’ land, even if it was Jawad Rietveld’s land first, and then Albert Rietveld’s land before that, even if, on a day so far removed from Kaz’s present life that it feels like someone else’s life entirely, Kaz thought that it would be Jordaan Rietveld’s land in the future.

He feels, in a way, her presence before he can see her.

“I know you’re there.”

She sighs and makes herself visible.

“It’s you. The girl on the train.”

“I don’t think so-” she says, taking on a heavy Flemish accent just in case he remembers her from the police precinct in Groningen. “I’m from Ant-”

“You. Your face.” I could never forget you face, he thinks. The police precinct, and then the train to Utrecht Centraal. A rare sunny day in this pit of gloom and rain, and the way that the sunlight hit her lashes, the curve of her cheeks, the splash of her dark hair, made him think that it was impossible there wasn’t something divine and benevolent in this life, and this world. “Police precinct up North. Gronigen. Train. Amsterdam. Everywhere i go you’re always-” He thinks about pulling the shiv from his pocket. Anyone so interested in following him certainly has ulterior motives, and yet-

“What are you? Why are you always- there?”

“I don’t think, Mr. Brekker, that your . . . theological opinions would permit you to believe me when I tell you what, exactly, I am.”

He shrugs. “Grandson of lapsed NHK’ers and Javanese Sunnis. No god helped them a whit. I don’t think God, if they ever existed, ever looked at this drowning spit of dirt.”

“I think there are many who wouldn’t disagree with you. Some of them, like myself, being of a divine persuasion.”

“Why are you here?”

She doesn’t answer, just turns towards the graves. A light rain has started to fall.

“Do you think you’re following the path they’d be proud of?”

--o0o--

“You know I count as a fucking mature student? Mature.”

Even she has to laugh.

“I’m fucking twenty three. Twenty three. I got carded trying to buy a beer yesterday.”

“But now a student.”

He flashes his new, shiny plastic student card at her. The photo on it still looks like a mugshot.

“What are you studying?”

“Politics. International Relations. How different can the European Council be from the mob, really? Common Agricultural Policy, pay off Europol, work some backroom deals to get shit done.”

Inej resists the urge to burrow her forehead in her jacket sleeves. There are, it turns out, many, many ways for a human to get themselves killed, on this world.

[dutsh-miems]

over koud gesproken een keertje was onze bob midden in de avond weggeflikkert en hebben ik en mn vrienden in het midden van januari in eindhoven station geslapen tot de eerste trein kwam (we waren te skeer voor taxi/motel lol) ik krijg nog steeds trauma rillingen als ik daar uitstap

Dit doet me echt denken aan die ene keer dat ik naar walibi ging met vrienden en we bleven langer dan de bedoeling was dus kon ik niet meer naar huis toe.

Ik ging dus met hun mee naar Den Haag (dat is waar ze woonden) en we moesten like een uur wachten op utrecht centraal... Het was zo fucking koud daar

[lemondeabicyclette]

Selon le World Economic Forum et le site Copenhagenize, Utrecht est dans le top des meilleures villes au monde pour la pratique du vélo comme moyen de transport au quotidien.

Dans cette vidéo produite par StreetFilms sur Vimeo, on apprend que Utrecht aux Pays-Bas est une ville avec un élan incroyable pour modifier la façon dont son centre-ville s'intègre avec les gens. Depuis des décennies, les élu(e)s ont lentement repoussé la voiture pour soutenir le vélo et les transports en commun. Et ces dernières années, les efforts ont redoublé.

D'une part, on y a transformé plusieurs rues en les convertissant en pistes cyclables, mettant en vedette des espaces verts et restaurant le canal du centre-ville qui a été supprimé dans les années 1970 pour une route. Utrecht est sur le point de disposer de 33 000 places de vélo avec l’ouverture d’une future installation de 12 000 places sous la gare centrale Utrecht Centraal !

En outre les autorités encouragent une plus grande utilisation du vélo avec de nouvelles rues exclusives aux vélos. Et ils ont construit le symbolique pont Dafne Schippersbrug, un exploit technologique d'imagination créative qui propose un chemin à utilisations multiples qui atterrit au sommet d'une école.

Le producteur de la vidéo affirme « ce fut une grand joie de faire du vélo dans la ville. Tout paraissait accessible en vélo ou en transit » C’est pourquoi 98% des habitants possèdent au moins un vélo et le centre-ville compte 60% de ses utilisateurs. Les transports en commun abondent, qu’il s’agisse d’autobus, de trains ou de tramways (un nouveau tram est sur le point d’ouvrir).

La leçon à tirer pour le monde entier est qu’Utrecht a mis la santé et le bien-être de ses citoyens au premier plan, et non les déplacements en voiture.

Ce moyen de transport joue un rôle essentiel à cet égard. Rendre les déplacements plus faciles en vélo ou en vélo / transport en commun / à pied est nettement préférable à la présence de personnes circulant dans des boîtes en métal polluant, encombrant et dangereux. Les voitures créent bien plus de problèmes qu'elles n'en résolvent. Et espérons que Utrecht puisse exporter cette leçon dans le monde.

Bien sûr, Utrecht ne s’est pas refaite du jour au lendemain. Cela prend des décennies de planification et de politique intelligente. Mais si votre ville (genre, Montréal) n’est pas si accueillante pour les gens, les vélos et les transports en commun, vous pouvez commencer dès aujourd’hui. Et maintenez ensuite cet engagement à créer des changements permanents.

La chose la plus incroyable que j'ai apprise? Utrecht fonctionne si bien que les taxis Uber n'y sont presque pas. Vidéo mise en ligne sur Vimeo le 25 juin 2019

[taxibellenutrecht]

 Taxi Bellen Utrecht | Cheap Taxi Services

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