Rockin' in Rotterdam
Mr. Tassos drove me to the Pafos Airport early. About three houurs before my flight was to depart. With the terror alerts around airline travel to the United States, Tassos wanted to make sure I got there in time. He made a pretty big fuss over my safety on my impending trip back to the US; I think he was somewhat reassured when I told him that I would be flying back from Iceland to Minneapolis on a non-US carrier. Regardless, we parted ways happily, I checked in (the flight attendants were shocked that I was talking about the Amsterdam flight, as I was the first person of the day), passed through security and made my way to the payphones next to the Cyprus Duty Free shop. Now it was time to book a hostel in Amsterdam. Or Utrecht, when I found out Amsterdam was full. Or Den Haag, when I found out that Utrecht was full. Or Edam, when I found out Den Haag was full. Or Haarlem, when I found out that Edam was full. Or Rotterdam, finally, which had room at the StayOkay hostel. I flew my way out of Cyprus, landed in Amsterdam (no problems with lines here, either) and hopped on a train bound for Rotterdam. Another fluke.
It appears I picked the perfect weekend to hit Rotterdam. Heinekin, perhaps the Netherland´s greatest liquid contribution to the world, was sponsoringg the "Heinekin Dance Parade" a day of revelry as 24 semis-turned-stages parade down the streets of the city spewing techno and sprouting hardcore club dancers. Anybody who knows me knows that this is most definitely not my scene.
Always Say Yes.
Down the street I went, Heinekin in hand (of course), battling the fierce rain and bitter cold with the best of them. Beach balls flew down the crowd, pot smoke filled the air (this is Holland, after all!), confetti stuck to my cloths and I became drenched in all sorts of alcoholic concoctions. After about an hour of drunken bumping-and-grinding, I decided that I needed a break, broke away from the crowd and headed for quieter territory.
What I found in Rotterdam is, perhaps, the new Amsterdam.
Amsterdam is a great town. Don't get me wrong, I love the progressiveness and freedom exhibited in this fair Dam on the river Amstel like nobody else. However, Amsterdam has beenbesiegedd by tourists. Lots of them. All indulging in the pot, parties and prostitution with wild abandon. This is great, but now a little too mainstream for the kind of seek-out-the-hidden-gems traveler I've become. While I know I will be back (there is WAY too much of Amsterdam to explore), I was OK with a change this time around.
Rotterdam is big, glossy, new and undiscovered. There are almost no signs in English, despite the fact that every restaurant has translated menus and a bunch of multinational corporations hold annual meetings there. Rotterdam is the main hub for the new immigrant populations and, as I soon discovered, the best and cheapest eats to be had are along Witte de Withstraat, the home of small ethnic eateries that cater solely to a Dutch crowd (althought the employees all speak perfect English). Sri Lankan curries, Middle Eastern platters, bars, cafes, infamous coffeeshops, all that you would expect from Amsterdam (even a canal or two), but walkable (no need even for a bike!), entirely in Dutch and without the crowds (or with them, but then you are the only tourist). The city also has its fair share of museums, a nice observatory tower, some pretty cool "cube houses" and a vibe that says "hey, we're the place to be -- chill out!" It's a livable city, filled with funky artists of all kinds, and an awesome place to camp out for a few days, weeks, months or years.
My favorite Rotterdam memory: I walked into Bazar, a thriving Turkish restaurant on Witte de Withstraat. I turned to the host and, smiling, confirmed that he spoke English. I asked, "Do you have room for one?", to which he replied, "I don't know. We have a convention in town, so I think we´re 100% booked. You should go over to the reception [he pointed to a glassed-in area down the street] and ask them if we have space." I thanked him, headed out the door, scooted up to the counter at the reception and repeated my request for a table. With this, I was marched back to the restaurant, where a very angry receptionist scoldeded the poor host. I tried to mediate, but to no avail. Finally, the two of them turned to me, stared me down and burst into laughter. "What?" I asked, somewhat terrified. "Don't do that again," said the receptionist as she walked out the door. I was seated immediately. I think this whole thing had to do with my use of the word "room," but I'm still not sure.
It appears I picked the perfect weekend to hit Rotterdam. Heinekin, perhaps the Netherland´s greatest liquid contribution to the world, was sponsoringg the "Heinekin Dance Parade" a day of revelry as 24 semis-turned-stages parade down the streets of the city spewing techno and sprouting hardcore club dancers. Anybody who knows me knows that this is most definitely not my scene.
Always Say Yes.
Down the street I went, Heinekin in hand (of course), battling the fierce rain and bitter cold with the best of them. Beach balls flew down the crowd, pot smoke filled the air (this is Holland, after all!), confetti stuck to my cloths and I became drenched in all sorts of alcoholic concoctions. After about an hour of drunken bumping-and-grinding, I decided that I needed a break, broke away from the crowd and headed for quieter territory.
What I found in Rotterdam is, perhaps, the new Amsterdam.
Amsterdam is a great town. Don't get me wrong, I love the progressiveness and freedom exhibited in this fair Dam on the river Amstel like nobody else. However, Amsterdam has beenbesiegedd by tourists. Lots of them. All indulging in the pot, parties and prostitution with wild abandon. This is great, but now a little too mainstream for the kind of seek-out-the-hidden-gems traveler I've become. While I know I will be back (there is WAY too much of Amsterdam to explore), I was OK with a change this time around.
Rotterdam is big, glossy, new and undiscovered. There are almost no signs in English, despite the fact that every restaurant has translated menus and a bunch of multinational corporations hold annual meetings there. Rotterdam is the main hub for the new immigrant populations and, as I soon discovered, the best and cheapest eats to be had are along Witte de Withstraat, the home of small ethnic eateries that cater solely to a Dutch crowd (althought the employees all speak perfect English). Sri Lankan curries, Middle Eastern platters, bars, cafes, infamous coffeeshops, all that you would expect from Amsterdam (even a canal or two), but walkable (no need even for a bike!), entirely in Dutch and without the crowds (or with them, but then you are the only tourist). The city also has its fair share of museums, a nice observatory tower, some pretty cool "cube houses" and a vibe that says "hey, we're the place to be -- chill out!" It's a livable city, filled with funky artists of all kinds, and an awesome place to camp out for a few days, weeks, months or years.
My favorite Rotterdam memory: I walked into Bazar, a thriving Turkish restaurant on Witte de Withstraat. I turned to the host and, smiling, confirmed that he spoke English. I asked, "Do you have room for one?", to which he replied, "I don't know. We have a convention in town, so I think we´re 100% booked. You should go over to the reception [he pointed to a glassed-in area down the street] and ask them if we have space." I thanked him, headed out the door, scooted up to the counter at the reception and repeated my request for a table. With this, I was marched back to the restaurant, where a very angry receptionist scoldeded the poor host. I tried to mediate, but to no avail. Finally, the two of them turned to me, stared me down and burst into laughter. "What?" I asked, somewhat terrified. "Don't do that again," said the receptionist as she walked out the door. I was seated immediately. I think this whole thing had to do with my use of the word "room," but I'm still not sure.
posted by Ethan at 8:16 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home