Day 1 in Holland: Rotterdam!

Tony and I enjoying our first pint in Holland at Rotterdam's old harbor

 Unsurprisingly, Tony and I slept rather late on Monday morning, after arriving from New York (via Iceland) the night before; Dierdre woke us with a rap on the door of our attic bedroom about noon local time. We were confused at first as to why our clothing was draped over every available surface of the room; however, we soon remembered that we had opened our luggage the night before to find that everything inside was soaked! The airport staff in Reykjavik must have left our bags out in the pouring rain before the transfer. To prevent it from becoming smelly we draped it all over the room to air out before we went to bed, tired as we were. Upon learning this after we woke, Dierdre insisted on offering the dryer's services. And so all was soon well, except for one pair of Tony's socks, which refused to dry out even after two full cycles.

The babies had gone to creche early in the morning, so we would have to wait until the following day to see them. Without that distraction, we quickly showered and had a bit of breakfast, then set out into a mild summer's day. Dierdre led us on a short walk to nearby Rotterdam Alexaander station. Since international credit cards are not accepted at the automated ticket machines, we needed to use her card to buy tickets and pay her back later. Soon enough, though, we had stamped our tickets and were gliding through the suburbs and past the Rotterdam Zoo, which I had visited on my first trip four years before.

Once in the city, we walked through the bustling station, which is undergoing huge renovations and promises to be quite impressive upon completion; what a shame that we will probably never see it finished! A short walk from there led us to the main shopping streets, which give the impression of an outdoor shopping mall: stores on either side, wide brick walkways, and the occasional stall or even small take-away joint in the middle of the path.

The cubic apartments are a must-see, even just from outside!

After fighting our way through the shopping streets (surprisingly crowded, for a workday, I thought) we made for one of Rotterdam's main attractions: the famous cubic apartments. People do actually leave in these odd-looking dwellings, though I couldn't help picturing the inside as a dizzying fun house attraction. I could have proved my intuition wrong by paying a few Euro to tour one, but we decided it was far too nice a day to spend any time inside, and contented ourselves with the exterior view.

We made our way from there to Rotterdam's old harbor, where we were treated to some rare, pre-World War II architecture. As I mentioned in the previous post, Rotterdam was bombed flat by the Nazis, leaving only a few buildings intact. Some of them cluster around the old harbor, giving the impression of sentinels, enduring all the guard Europe's largest seaport. We settled in at a dockside table and toasted our trip with our first Heineken of the journey.

Dierdre had to head back to pick up the twins from creche, but before leaving us she saw us to a water taxi, which would take us across the harbor to the other side of the city. Tony and I clumsily climbed in and then waved goodbye to Dierdre as the wooden boat took us away from her. As we left the dock area and picked up speed, it occurred to me that I was in Holland for the first time without Dierdre or Co to lead me about! It was like suddenly realizing that I'd given a chaperone the slip, only to find that it was a bad idea. But I was soon enjoying the taxi ride and looking forward to discovering what we'd find on the opposite shore.

Interior of the water taxi that took us to Hotel New York.

The opposite shore, as it turned out, was nearly empty, but for the Hotel New York, an imposing brick feature taking up much of the waterside acreage. But we wandered away from it for a while, finding ourselves in much quieter streets lined with cheap shops and automobile garages. Eventually we came to a corner bar and stepped inside, thirsty from the hot day and long walk. The place was empty but for the smoking owner, who stubbed our her cigarette to serve us, then ignored her own signage, "absolutely no smoking," and took to the back room with another once we were served.

We stayed long enough to enjoy and pay for our pints, then set off again toward the harbor. By the time we actually made our way back to Hotel New York, we were hungry. After a quick look at the Euro amounts on the menu, we were relieved to discover that we could actually afford to eat here, and decided to stay.

Dinner at the Hotel New York turned out to be the highlight of the day. We settled into a cafe table outside on the wharf, an awning sheltering us from the late afternoon sun. The wait staff obligingly brought us a menu in English, and we were thrilled to find on it a regional delicacy we had particularly wanted to try: shrimp croquettes! These arrived first, along with bread and several whipped spreads.  The croquettes were crunchy outside, creamy and salty inside; perfection. An astonishing amount of mussels in a steaming pot arrived next, along with a plate of fries. Between all of that and a few Heinekens, we ended up staying on the wharf for nearly two hours.

Mussels, shrimp croquettes, fries, bread, and tasty sauces.

Tony found out from his mother just before our trip that his German ancestors had departed for New York City from Rotterdam many generations ago. Oddly enough, the Hotel New York is so named because it is situated on the very wharf where ships departed, full of immigrants, to America. As I'm also of German heritage (among many other European races) it's quite possible that Tony and I both have ancestors who had once trod the very bricks beneath which we were enjoying our meal. We mused on this great coincidence, or perhaps twist of fate, as we watched the sun slowly sink down, casting a golden glow over the decks of the ships at moor on the water.

After finally ending our meal, we waddled back down to the dock and obtained the services of a different water taxi back across the harbor. He dropped us off at a different spot than we had embarked from in the first place, but we easily oriented ourselves and set off in the direction of the train station. We passed coffee shops and "coffee shops" (more on that later), the now-sleepy shopping streets, the old city hall, and even passed over what appeared to be a Dutch musical walk of fame, completely by accident. By the time we found our way back to Centraal we were more than ready to settle ourselves on the couch at D and Co's place, where we were sure another cold Heineken (or three) would be awaiting us when we arrived.