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ashetlandpony8-9 September 1989
My next principal destination was The Otter Trust in Suffolk, but instead of flying to England, I elected to try something new and take the ferry across the North Sea from Rotterdam.
On the morning of Friday the 8th, I boarded a train at Celle, and left German soil at 1315. My trip almost came to an abrupt end in Amersfoort, however. Disembarking the rail car, I caught my briefcase on something and tumbled forward out the door from the second step up. It was just by pure luck that my large suitcase landed flat on the platform directly in front of and below me, neatly breaking my fall. I could easily have fractured both wrists or even my skull if I'd landed on the concrete itself. Scary moment. People saw me fall and gasped. Anyway, I quickly brushed myself off and proceeded to catch my connection to Rotterdam.
This train ride was quite different than the one that brought me here, though. It soon became apparent to me that I was the only person of European descent in my rail car. I remember not saying a single word during this leg of my trip. I didn't want anyone knowing I was an American, so I let my Germanic looks do the talking for me.
I encountered the same situation in Rotterdam. I looked around and wondered, where are all the Dutch people? And why does everyone appear so grim? This city looked more like a meeting of the U.N. General Assembly than someplace in Europe. Things changed when I finally got to my hotel, though. All the staff were Dutch, and very friendly, too; the room was quite modern and nicely appointed. Looking at the "Savoy Hotel" website, the place appears to have changed little since my stay there 30 years ago.
Savoy Hotel, on Hoogstraat in Rotterdam.
Having eaten hardly at all that day, though, I soon went in search of food, and nearby, found a sidewalk restaurant named "Pizza Boromea." Unfortunately, like every other 'pizza' I was to have on this trip, it was far from what we expect here in America, but it was alright and filled my empty stomach satisfactorily.
According to my diary, after the pizza and a couple of drinks at a nearby bar, I returned to my room. I watched CNN International for awhile, then went downstairs to the hotel lounge. There, I got into a conversation with the bartender, whose name was Saskia. Over some beers, I told her that I'd just come from a scientific meeting about otters, and she was very interested to hear my stories. We talked for quite awhile; long enough for me to get pretty tipsy. It turned out she wasn't just the bartender, she was actually the night manager of the whole hotel. Oh, and, by the way, the bar has been closed this whole time, so your beers are "on the house!" I felt honored that she'd kept the place open apparently just for me. What a nice young lady. I've never forgotten her.
The next morning, I went out in search of something I'd heard about on the news in America: a hashish bar! The Netherlands had recently legalized cannabis, and we'd seen a lot of stories on TV about the many places in Amsterdam that now openly sold marijuana and hash (as long as customers consumed it on the premises). I'd mentioned this to Saskia the night before, and she told me that, as far as she knew, there weren't any such places here. "Rotterdam is working class. It's not like Amsterdam." I could tell. ;) But, undaunted, I wanted to have a look, anyway.
I walked around the marketplace and the general neighborhood for awhile, but saw nothing like what I was hoping for. However, I did find a McDonald's, so it was there I decided to have lunch. It turned out I was in for a treat!
This place was popular. The lines were long. There was even a queue for the pay toilets in the back. When I finally got my food, I took it outside to eat. As usual, I ate my hamburgers first, then started in on the fries. Right away, I noticed something different. "Oh my god," I thought, "these are real McDonald's french fries!" In the U.S., they'd stopped cooking their fries with lard years ago, and the new ones were never as good. But here in the Netherlands, I guess McDonald's still made them the old-fashioned way! Yum!
My ferry didn't leave until late that night, so I had enough time to have another little pizza for dinner, then, because I knew I wouldn't have meal service on the ferry, one last snack at McDonald's (a Filet-O-Fish this time with my original fries) before I boarded the train to Hoek.
Had to admit, although the hotel was nice, Rotterdam itself was a disappointment. It wasn't picturesque in the least, so I didn't take a single photo there, and I never did find that hashish bar, alas.
The ferry was quite an experience. As soon as I boarded the "St. Nicholas," I encountered a rather spectacular puddle of vomit in the coach fare area. Evidently the trip over had been a rough one for someone. I was glad I had reserved a private cabin and didn't have to sit out in the open with that smell in the air for the entire 7-hour voyage. The seas were indeed rough going over. I confess, I was a little bit anxious, as my window was low enough to be right in the middle of the wave action all night. I've never had a problem with sea sickness, though, and despite the noise and the forceful to-and-fro pitching of the boat, I fell sound asleep right away. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant passage, but I resolved after we landed at Harwich that I'd never again take an ocean ferry unless I had to.
My next principal destination was The Otter Trust in Suffolk, but instead of flying to England, I elected to try something new and take the ferry across the North Sea from Rotterdam.
On the morning of Friday the 8th, I boarded a train at Celle, and left German soil at 1315. My trip almost came to an abrupt end in Amersfoort, however. Disembarking the rail car, I caught my briefcase on something and tumbled forward out the door from the second step up. It was just by pure luck that my large suitcase landed flat on the platform directly in front of and below me, neatly breaking my fall. I could easily have fractured both wrists or even my skull if I'd landed on the concrete itself. Scary moment. People saw me fall and gasped. Anyway, I quickly brushed myself off and proceeded to catch my connection to Rotterdam.
This train ride was quite different than the one that brought me here, though. It soon became apparent to me that I was the only person of European descent in my rail car. I remember not saying a single word during this leg of my trip. I didn't want anyone knowing I was an American, so I let my Germanic looks do the talking for me.
I encountered the same situation in Rotterdam. I looked around and wondered, where are all the Dutch people? And why does everyone appear so grim? This city looked more like a meeting of the U.N. General Assembly than someplace in Europe. Things changed when I finally got to my hotel, though. All the staff were Dutch, and very friendly, too; the room was quite modern and nicely appointed. Looking at the "Savoy Hotel" website, the place appears to have changed little since my stay there 30 years ago.
Savoy Hotel, on Hoogstraat in Rotterdam.
Having eaten hardly at all that day, though, I soon went in search of food, and nearby, found a sidewalk restaurant named "Pizza Boromea." Unfortunately, like every other 'pizza' I was to have on this trip, it was far from what we expect here in America, but it was alright and filled my empty stomach satisfactorily.
According to my diary, after the pizza and a couple of drinks at a nearby bar, I returned to my room. I watched CNN International for awhile, then went downstairs to the hotel lounge. There, I got into a conversation with the bartender, whose name was Saskia. Over some beers, I told her that I'd just come from a scientific meeting about otters, and she was very interested to hear my stories. We talked for quite awhile; long enough for me to get pretty tipsy. It turned out she wasn't just the bartender, she was actually the night manager of the whole hotel. Oh, and, by the way, the bar has been closed this whole time, so your beers are "on the house!" I felt honored that she'd kept the place open apparently just for me. What a nice young lady. I've never forgotten her.
The next morning, I went out in search of something I'd heard about on the news in America: a hashish bar! The Netherlands had recently legalized cannabis, and we'd seen a lot of stories on TV about the many places in Amsterdam that now openly sold marijuana and hash (as long as customers consumed it on the premises). I'd mentioned this to Saskia the night before, and she told me that, as far as she knew, there weren't any such places here. "Rotterdam is working class. It's not like Amsterdam." I could tell. ;) But, undaunted, I wanted to have a look, anyway.
I walked around the marketplace and the general neighborhood for awhile, but saw nothing like what I was hoping for. However, I did find a McDonald's, so it was there I decided to have lunch. It turned out I was in for a treat!
This place was popular. The lines were long. There was even a queue for the pay toilets in the back. When I finally got my food, I took it outside to eat. As usual, I ate my hamburgers first, then started in on the fries. Right away, I noticed something different. "Oh my god," I thought, "these are real McDonald's french fries!" In the U.S., they'd stopped cooking their fries with lard years ago, and the new ones were never as good. But here in the Netherlands, I guess McDonald's still made them the old-fashioned way! Yum!
My ferry didn't leave until late that night, so I had enough time to have another little pizza for dinner, then, because I knew I wouldn't have meal service on the ferry, one last snack at McDonald's (a Filet-O-Fish this time with my original fries) before I boarded the train to Hoek.
Had to admit, although the hotel was nice, Rotterdam itself was a disappointment. It wasn't picturesque in the least, so I didn't take a single photo there, and I never did find that hashish bar, alas.
The ferry was quite an experience. As soon as I boarded the "St. Nicholas," I encountered a rather spectacular puddle of vomit in the coach fare area. Evidently the trip over had been a rough one for someone. I was glad I had reserved a private cabin and didn't have to sit out in the open with that smell in the air for the entire 7-hour voyage. The seas were indeed rough going over. I confess, I was a little bit anxious, as my window was low enough to be right in the middle of the wave action all night. I've never had a problem with sea sickness, though, and despite the noise and the forceful to-and-fro pitching of the boat, I fell sound asleep right away. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant passage, but I resolved after we landed at Harwich that I'd never again take an ocean ferry unless I had to.
