Rotterdam

I am now in Rotterdam. A four hour stopover in Berlin and two train changes during the night got me here for 10am - two nights of fitful sleep and over 30 hours on trains in the last three days. My ferry onwards to Harwich - and then more trains to get home - was not until the evening which gives me a day in which to explore the city.

I had breakfast after vainly searching for somewhere where I could eat while keeping an eye on my bike. Here though, so many bicycles are parked in the streets - many with panniers - that I decided leaving the bike unattended after removing a couple of high value items was worth the risk. Afterwards I visited one of the most interesting art establishments I have been to. 

The Depot Boijmans van Bueningen is not really a gallery in its own right but rather a modern storage building for art, held for display in other galleries. It does display some items but generally its largely glass floored, glass walled internal structure provides views of the storage rooms and of the conservators in their offices. Together with the explanatory videos and notes you get a good feel about what goes into cataloguing, maintaining and restoring a range of art works.

The afternoon took me out to the Hook of Holland from where I was to catch the ferry. A cursory internet search showed the area to be a lot more than a ferry terminal: among other things were to be found a beach, a small town, museums and eateries. Before 4pm I could get the Rotterdam underground there along with my bicycle but after that I would have to cycle the fifteen miles. My enthusiasm for cycling had waned somewhat.

The Hook of Holland I came out to was an open area with a wide cycle lane separated from a quiet road and plenty of green. Even the ferry port  seemed quite unobtrusive as I cycled past it heading towards the beach and a museum by the water on Hitler's Atlantic Wall. The latter was a WW2 concrete bunker by the estuary, a small remaining part of the fortifications built by the Germans to defend Europe. It was surrounded by a few remains of rusting weaponry. And it was shut. So when the heavens opened as I was walking around its outskirts I headed back to the road and cycled to the first pub I came across.

I sat at the almost deserted bar, the rain beating down outside, cradling a beer and reading through my blog, revisiting my journey of the last two months. After an hour the proprietor started serving light snacks and by the time I had finished my bread and dips the rain had stopped and the sun was out. I continued my exploring: the wide sandy beach, mostly deserted with the few small shops shut; a monument - in the shadow of a nineteenth century fort - to the the Kinder transport children evacuated to Britain, most of whom came to Britain via Rotterdam; and a waterside fish cafe where I watched the passing boat traffic over a coffee and herring roll.

The check in queue was already moving when I cycled early to the port for my ferry, something explained when I arrived at the kiosk presenting a final hurdle on my trip: I had unintentionally - and stupidly - booked my evening sailing from Harwich to Rotterdam and not vice versa. The kind check in lady managed to change my booking (for a small fee) although I think a favour was done as I'm pretty sure my ticket was not a flexible one. 

Bike parked up and cabin found, I showered and settled on my bed, the thought of being in Britain tomorrow a comforting thought despite the onward journey required from Harwich. Nevertheless, tomorrow I would be home.