Tulips, Trains and Towers

Sorry, guys, I swear I wrote this one almost completely and then it failed to save and I didn't get around to retyping it for a few days... that'll teach me to rely on the auto-save feature :P

I lost no time on Friday getting up and finishing my preparations for the weekend; I got up at 5:45 and by 7:00 I was out the door.  This left me barely enough time to buy my ticket for the return journey to Germany before hopping on my train.  All was going well until we unexpectedly slowed down and stopped on the tracks with no station in sight.  We must have been waiting for a train to pull out of the next station, because we stayed that way for about 10 minutes and when we finally started moving again, we soon reached the next stop.  However, this unforeseen delay meant that I missed my connection in Viersen, though by only a minute or two, and had to wait a whole hour for the next train.  Fortunately I had an iPod to amuse myself, which is basically a small computer (Bible, music, games, and books all in one).  I was traveling alone, as my travel companion wanted to take advantage of his Eurail pass and use a faster, more direct train to Rotterdam, but this is not something new for me, and soon I was safely aboard the next train.  Luckily, most local trains in my corner of Europe run every hour, if not more often, so this wasn't an enormous disruption to my travel plans.  By my next transfer, I was already across the border into the Netherlands, though since the farmlands rolling by outside my window were virtually indistinguishable from the countryside of Northern Germany from whence I'd come, the only way I knew this was because the signs at the station looked a little funny - because they were in Dutch.

Now, apparently Dutch people will get mad if you say this to them, but their language sounds like an illiterate Englishman and a drunk German tried to have a conversation and ended up turning it into an entire language.  For example, fifteen in Dutch is pronounced "five-tsehn" (ten in German is zehn, pronounced "tsen").  However, it doesn't really matter, because everyone's so educated that they ALL know English at least, if not a couple of other languages besides, and I never had a problem with communication during the weekend.  But it was still helpful that, when I could stop laughing long enough, I could make out enough on signs and over loudspeaker announcements to get by, because that turned out to be very important early on...

My third train was supposed to take me all the way to Rotterdam, but at one station along the way it paused for an unusually long time and there were several announcements made over the loudspeaker.  I understood enough to learn that there was some sort of obstruction on the tracks ahead and the train would have to stop short of Rotterdam, and they were telling the passengers to find an alternate route.  Disgruntled and a little concerned about being able to find my way, I wandered around the train station until I found someone who looked official.  I was just debating whether I should ask directions in German or English when I realized that the person already speaking to the official was asking for directions to Rotterdam in German, so I left my question of the languages unanswered and instead followed my just-informed fellow traveler to another express inter-city train.  I was slightly worried about the fact that my ticket was good for a route which I was no longer adhering to, but from my experience the railroad conductors are about as prevalent on Dutch trains as they are in Germany (i.e. I saw hardly any of them) so it didn't end up being a problem.  However, it did mean that my four-hour journey to Rotterdam turned into a six-hour plus ordeal which left me hungry and grumpy.  I satiated a bit of my hunger at the intervening train station in Uthrecht with a cheese-covered roll (always your best bet in Europe for quick, cheap energy), which is worth mentioning for my interaction with the cashier, or lack thereof.  The rolls were sitting in bags on a warmer, so I grabbed one and silently handed it to the cashier.  He hesitated for a moment, and I realized he was trying to guess which language he should speak to me.  I think I answered in German just because I was used to it at that point, but he may or may not have tried Dutch, French or English first and I don't think he was ever quite sure where I came from.  It was quite interesting, coming from such a monolingual culture, to think about a country where you don't automatically greet a new person in your native tongue...

Things didn't get much better upon my arrival at the Rotterdam Central Station, which is basically a giant construction site.  In fact, my impression was that most of the country was under construction, from what I saw... at least that means their economy can't be doing too poorly!  I had been recommended an independent tourist office by my recently-acquired guidebook, Europe on a Shoestring (which Joe happened to find in one of the discard bins during move-out at Princeton and, though it must weigh a good six pounds by itself, I thought a useful enough resource to bring along), but though it was supposed to be right in the area of the train station, I couldn't find it for the life of me and instead spent 30 minutes wandering around a couple of city blocks peering into the darkened windows of what seemed to be government buildings (I'm just glad I didn't get arrested).  Finally, I gave up and schlepped (fun fact: schleppen is a German verb meaning "to haul" or "to drag" - it just got Americanized!! For those of you who don't believe me because I'm from Maine and I talk funny, it is an actual English word as well: Schlep (it comes to us from the German through Yiddish).) over to the official city information office, since I had a couple of hours to kill.  Nick, my travel companion, had been held up in Germany by some "banking issues" which he didn't describe and I didn't inquire further about, and wouldn't arrive until 4pm.  I took my frustration of losing an entire day to delays out on the chaos of visiting a new city by viciously researching all of the interesting-sounding pamphlets available and planning our weekend, looking up locations, opening hours, and admission prices to avoid any other unpleasant surprises.  I also decided to go in on the Rotterdam Welcome Card, which for 13 Euros gave me two days of unlimited access to the city's public transportation network, as well as a booklet of coupons for 25-50% off local attractions.  Since I planned to do as much as possible while I was in the city, I figured the card would pay for itself.  After my research was done, I looked around the office which doubled as a souvenir shop until I found a couple of pieces of reasonably-priced, thoroughly Dutch kitsch (another Americanized German word!!) to bring home to friends and family.  Then, it finally nearing 4pm, I broke out my new card to take the tram back to the Central Station and meet Nick.

Having eventually found each other (which was no small feat in the chaos of the central station) and acquired another Welcome Card for him, we headed to our hostel to check in and regroup.  We had found accommodations at Hotel Room Rotterdam, a small hostel with good reviews on HostelBookers which had the most notable advantage of being the cheapest one in Rotterdam.  It was located in a beautiful, rough stone building only a block from the water.  As we walked inside, I can only describe the atmosphere as "chill".  The man who sauntered up to the counter to greet us had a distinctly Australian-sounding accent, though I never did figure out if he was actually from Down Under or that's how Dutch people sound when they speak English (which is at least partially true).  Though he was quite nice, he charged us 88 Euros instead of our expected 81 for the rooms (22.50 a night for each of us, and we had already made a 9-Euro down payment at time of booking) and when we walked up to the third (American fourth) floor to our room, we discovered that it contained 10 beds instead of the promised 8.  In hindsight, since I had the receipt with me, I should have said something right then, but I kept my mouth shut (I REALLY hate confrontation, even more than I hate losing money), even though the unexpected increase in expenses, combined with the general high cost of EVERYTHING in the Netherlands, led finances to be a little tight on the back end of the trip.

Shiloh and I at Hotel Bazaar, a ?Turkish? restaurant

When we opened the door to our room, the only other occupant was a petite girl on her laptop on one of the top bunks.  She gave us a shy smile and a wide-eyed "Hello," and we soon learned that Shiloh was taking the opportunity to tour Europe after finishing a dance study-abroad program in France before heading home to the States.  When we asked her about her plans, she told us she'd be making a day trip to Brussels the following day to use up the last of her Eurail pass, but that she didn't have anything special planned for the evening.  We didn't yet know what we were doing, but we invited her along regardless, and she joyfully accepted. Together we tripped down the stairs, Rotterdam map in hand, back to the front desk where the receptionist poured us each a Dutch beer (Hertog Jan, which was actually one of the best beers I've ever drunk - heck, it was almost enjoyable) and sat down to share his recommendations.  He drew various circles and marks on our map where we would encounter things worth seeing, but our primary concern was food (especially because of my mostly non-existant lunch).  He highly recommended Hotel Bazaar (a Middle Eastern restaurnt with big portions for cheap) as well as a little "Grandma's Kitchen"-type traditional Dutch restaurant.  It being already on the late side and us being very hungry, we opted for the former.

Before we packed up, the receptionist brought us each a shot of Dutch gin, on the house - as an apology for pouring himself a beer and not paying for it, he said.  This presented an entirely new dilemma as I had never taken a shot before, and am certainly not used to imbibing significant quantities of hard alcohol at a time (the only time I've drunk anything stronger than beer, it's to taste or try it, so I take tiny little sips and there's usually not much to begin with...).  I didn't even know if all of the liquid in the glass would fit comfortably in my mouth, or if I would end up sputtering and looking like a fool.  I finally ended up gingerly taking about 3/4 of it in my mouth, at which point I realized that a shot is not a very big mouthful.  Fortunately it was also a very smooth gin (or at least, that's the adjective the receptionist used, I have no idea about alcohols) so it tasted very much like a spruce tree and the alcohol wasn't as noticeable as I was expecting - to my immense relief.

Now, realizing that a glass of beer and a shot of gin was going to hit me a lot harder than normal, as empty as my stomach was, I was all for getting to the restaurant as soon as possible.  Indeed, I did feel it, and it made the walk a tad more... um, entertaining... but it wasn't significant, and nothing embarrassing happened.  We walked through Rotterdam's "Walk of Fame", which was just as cheesy as it sounds, but I did recognize a few of the names, like the one at the right.  Fortunately we were given good directions to the restaurant, and we had no trouble finding the place - it was getting in that would prove to be tricky.  Apparently it's a pretty hopping place on a Friday night, but when we asked the hostess, she told us with a sideways glance that if we could be gone by 8, she had a table for us.  It being only 6pm, we agreed, and were soon poring over our menus filled with exotic-sounding dishes in what can only be described as a colorful atmosphere.  No, it was literally colorful, as the light from the rows of votive candles in colored glass jars and the stained-glass chandeliers provided the only light in the bustling basement dining area.  Shiloh went with a simple soup, Nick ordered a kebab (I think with chicken), and I got a lamb dinner that sounded like it came with plenty of extras.  When our food came, my jaw just about dropped as I saw the enormous plates the waiter was carrying.  Shiloh's soup would easily have fed three people, my dinner included meat, salad, rice, a tomato, pepper, and yoghurt sauce, and Nick's kebabs were similarly accompanied, not to mention the complimentary breadbasket and assortment of sauces.  We fell right to eating, and I was astounded again and again as absolutely everything on my plate turned out to be delicious.  Maybe it was because I was so hungry, and maybe it was the alcohol, but I even enjoyed the tomato (and that will be particularly impressive to those of you acquainted with my food preferences).  We shared across plates, too, of course, and the fantastic food was not limited to my order.  Whatever country that food came from, I want to move there, because EVERYTHING they eat is AMAZING.

We were up there!!!

None of us had any trouble cleaning our plates and with considerably fuller bellies, we were soon ready for some real adventures.  Naturally, by this time in the evening all museums and most tourist attractions were closed, and it wasn't late enough for the bars or dance clubs to be worth visiting (purely for the cultural experience, of course ;]).  However, we soon settled on the Euromast, a 185-meter tower which boasted beautiful views of the city.  Though it was already past 8pm, we were even further north in Rotterdam than in Germany, and less than a week away from the longest day of the year for the northern hemisphere, so the skies were only rainy-day dark and had not yet been dimmed by twilight.  The way to the Euromast led through a beautiful park and an unexpected wedding party, which we carefully tiptoed around, trying not to be too conspicuous.  Safely at the base of the tower, we looked up to a row of windows high above the ground and decided that's where the observation deck must be.  Come to find out, that's actually a restaurant (talk about eating in style!) above which are two luxurious honeymoon suites (a night's stay is only 300 Euros, and includes a bottle of champagne and breakfast!  How's that for a memorable night?), which are all below the open-air observation deck.  Of course, the wind was much more noticeable 100 meters in the air than on the ground, and it drove the light rain into us in a quite unpleasant way, but nothing could spoil the majestic views.  Curious as always, I circled the observation deck and was pleased to find a stairway that led up even further.  Following it led us to an upper observation deck, at which there was an elevator that went up even more.  Wanting to get the most for our money (and the tickets weren't exactly cheap, even with 25% off from the welcome card), we continued ascending until we entered a strange little room with glass walls, but no lights.  We sat down on the benches encircling the post in the middle of the room and wondered what was going on.  In fact, Nick had just said, "Euromast, what are you doing?" when he was nearly knocked off his feet by a sudden shudder - the room began to move.  Slowly we emerged into the evening light as the entire room ascended the tower.  Shiloh and I looked at each other in excitement and glee.  Just then, the room began slowly rotating, giving us a truly panoramic view of the city.  I began laughing out of sheer enjoyment - it just kept getting better.  The platform kept ascending to a remarkable height of 185 meters, from which we could see the entire expanse of Rotterdam spread out below us.

The view from the Euromast towards our hostel

We spotted the bridge near our hostel and several other city landmarks before the room, still spinning, began a gradual descent back to where we had come.  Still grinning from the adrenaline rush that came from being so far up in the sky without much between us and the ground, we headed back down the maze of elevators and stairwells towards the boring life of the gravity-restrained.  Once we were finally on the ground again, we headed back across the park, satisfied that we had redeemed the day from its frustrating start.

The adventures weren't quite over for the day; on our way through the park a flock of small, bright green birds flew overhead.  I swore they looked like parrots; Nick said that was impossible.  (Later we learned that it is quite common in large cities with zoos to see exotic birds that have escaped from captivity and end up thriving, so I could have been right after all!)  We arrived back at our hostel in the midst of the Eurocup match between England and Sweden, so of course we each grabbed a beer from the bar and sat down to watch - it's the European thing to do.  By the time the match ended it was 10:30 and FINALLY getting dark, so we took the opportunity to walk the two blocks from the hostel to the river to see the bridges lit up, which was truly a sight to behold.  After some Parkour-style hunting for photo opportunities which involved some possibly-illegal climbing on rooftops, we returned to the hostel to rest up for a long, full day of touring.  Before I clambered into my top bunk, I slipped out on the balcony to take a picture of the still-glowing 11pm view from the hostel...

Rotterdam, the Netherlands, 11pm on June 15th, 2012

It had been a good day.  So now I will leave you to read about my good day, and I will try not to take so long in telling you about the next ones...