This could be Rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or Rome
‘Cause Rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone
Anywhere alone

With the words of Beautiful South in my ear, I took a bus and rail journey to Rotterdam today. I have to say, the Dutch transport system is much to be admired. Taking the 63 bus from “Delft Camping” to Centraal Station; then an electric Sprinter train to Rotterdam Centraal – 5 stops, 15 mins. Then return on an Intercity Den Haag train – 1 stop, 9 minutes. Then 63 bus back. All done by tap-in, tap-out, and all reasonably priced. Then Rotterdam: strange to see destination boards saying “London”! And Rotterdam is uniquely itself. My impressions were from A-level geography, where I learned that the place had been bombed to shit by the Luftwaffe, and had been hastily and crudely rebuilt. That’s not the Rotterdam of today. As soon as you’re there you know you have arrived somewhere special. I do not have the stamina these days to do extensive siteseeing; even so I managed 12500 steps/7.6km. Making up for my laziness over the summer. I have therefore only grazed the surface, and can only give you a brief impression.

The tourist information stand on the Station concourse provided me with a useful map, with a guide to museums and public art, and all the other paraphernalia of a tourist visit. And advised me that a city cardcprobably wouldn’t be much use as a lot of the museums were shut on a Monday. Thanking the lady for her help, I resolved to make the most of the 14 listed examples of public art. And psychogeographer as I claim to be, I set off on a proper derive to claim the City for myself. I wonder if the flâneurs of Paris ever had to cope with a North Sea haar, turning into a persistent drizzle as they wandered round Paris? My steps took me down Mauritsweg as far as Witte de Withstraat, which gave out onto Leuvehaven, and the Maritime museum. Shut, of course. Nevertheless, local monumental skyscrapers had overhangs, anllowing me to adjust my rain gear, and consult maps in the dry.

I noticed that I was close to the Markt: the Lonely Planet guide had tipped it as a useful lunch place, and an impressive piece of architecture. Moreover it was under cover. It did not disappoint. Stalls from all over the world, selling all kinds of food; cheese, coffee, a stall dedicated to nuts and chocolate. There was a stall offering herring in the Dutch manner – raw and eaten by the tail. I settled for a falafel wrap and a cup of tea, in a sit down, I guess Turkish establishment, on a level above. From there I could see some of the noted modern architecture close by. I went on a hunt for the Pastels de Nata stand I’d spotted earlier, but it may have been but a figment of an overheated, foodie imagination. I have to confess to a mild addiction to custard tarts of all denominations, while not enquiring too closely as to the sugar content.

Leaving the food hall, I soon found myself confronted by a weird set of boxes, all set at 45 degrees to the horizontal. These, the Kubiswoningen, are I gather quite famous as part of the jokey architectural revival of the city, and listed as sight #16 on the city map. While much is private housing, some of it is hostel accommodation. Wandering around, beyond is the Oudehaven, full of houseboats and converted barges, all flying flags and bunting in a very jolly manner.

From this point I started my way back. I’d found a branch of Albert Heijn below the Markt, so back there and loaded my rucksack with a few likely food items – microwave curries and so on. Then started back towards the station, past Rotterdam’s World Trade Centre. Opposite there was a C&A: realising I’d not packed quite enough underwear, I topped up my stock of pants, so I’ll only have to do one laundry this holiday. Too much information? Underwear laundry is a key part of vacation planning, I’m realising. I have started to wonder whether it might be worth setting up a complete camping wardrobe.

As yesterday was mostly rainy, I spent the day mostly indoors; I did take myself for a walk into the arboretum near the campsite, and was tempted by finding a gate into IKEA. Instead, I went out into the polder fields – long strips of meadow, bounded like the old open fields of England, this time with small ditches. This accounts for the green-ness of the pasture, and the happy contented cows I could see in the distance. I have been pondering the Dutch character, as I observe it, particularly onsite. While friendly, and helpful if asked, there is a level of reserve that I hadn’t noticed before. Very much keeping themselves to themselves for the most part. Having spent the whole of the weekend next door to one family, they left this morning having never exchanged so much as a glance. The site has emptied considerably, though ether are still families here – maybe because it’s a ‘Vakantie Centre’. I’m not clear whether the kids are being home schooled or what.

I’m getting used to adventure again. A by-product of my health conditions (I’m reluctant to call it ill-health) is a certain level of anxiety. This may be also because we’re coming up to the anniversary of Rosie passing away, and I’m still conscious of being a solo traveller. But as a result I still find myself having to make a determined effort to make a positive outlook. Of course it’s worrying; it wouldn’t be worth the effort if it wasn’t. So I have to decide to exert myself, take the road less travelled, walk the extra mile even if I don’t know exactly where I’m going. And even to try to enjoy the frisson on uncertainty. So go up to people and ask for things; make conversations on slim pretexts; and not worry if I can’t do everything. The rest of Rotterdam can wait – maybe one day I’ll take the Eurostar, just for the hell of it. Maybe even not. I’ve decided there’s no point to having a bucket list, just a shortlist of what to do next. And for me, that’s Edam on Wednesday.