Tobi Lakmaker | Who goes to the University Library?
Writer and former UvA student Tobi Lakmaker spent much of his student life in the university library. That was not always a pleasant experience. “My most exhausting time was Friday afternoons, when the library was often eerily unpopulated.”
Every university library has two types of visitors: passers-by and residents. The situation for residents is often a lot more concerning than for passers-by, who only allow themselves to be confined to the brightly lit silence zones temporarily. Residents, by contrast, choose to do so permanently, which often has little to do with any dedication to their studies. Rather, the outside world actually makes them more anxious than those oppressively quiet places, meaning that before they know it, they become attached to one particular chair and table, from which they will only leave to get a specific type of coffee.
For a long time, I was a permanent resident of the PC Hooft building. I found Friday afternoons the most difficult time; the library would often be eerily deserted then. It made me realise that the other visitors had indeed just been waiting for the weekend to begin. Indeed, they were happy to have it start early. In a way, this describes the essence of my time at university: wanting to stay in a place that everyone else is happy to leave, to go somewhere that I never quite understood how to get to.
Anyone who spends enough time in a certain building will over time develop strong opinions about the facilities that are available, including about the lavatories. My favourite loo was on the first floor on the Raadhuisstraat side, given that it was a single lavatory and it was relatively unknown to others. I’d go there for two reasons: to do a number two and to have a cry every now and then.
Shortly before I graduated, I made a crucial error by going to another lavatory, which happened to be in the middle of the library, and doing exactly the same things. I’d been there for some time, when there was a gentle knock on the door. I never found out who the employee in question was, but it must have been someone with a refined sense of tact, because I heard a gentle female voice whisper: ‘I’m really sorry to disturb – but absolutely everyone can hear you’.
Shortly thereafter I passed my thesis and had to leave my quiet sanctuary. Since then I have been roaming the so-called outside world, the world of sound and noise, where I suspect people cry just as loudly. My preference, however, will always go to the PC Hooft building, where no one hears you at all – at least, if you’re in the right loos.
