Detour; Taking lemons and making lemonade (or a gin and tonic) After our boat trip to Hoek van Holland, we thought we were and hour and a half from Amsterdam. But track construction altered some of the scheduled routes, which seemed annoying at the time, but turned out to be a lucky twist. On the train from Hoek, Nancy told me she wasnt feeling up to snuff, as we approached the stop that we thought we were supposed to get off, she said she need a bathroom, asap. So it was especially frustrating that we found the station closed, were turned right around, due to the track construction, and sent off to the next stop, Rotterdam. By the time we got there, she was feeling pretty poorly. Half a world from home changes ones sense of urgency when somebody you love doesnt feel well. I sat Nancy in a large lobby, and found a woman dressed in a uniform, who as it turned out was a tourist information assistant. This lady was a sweet as could be, very grandmotherly, and was just what the doctor ordered as far as my anxiety was concerned, She called a second assistant, who sat with Nancy, while she walked me over to a pharmacy that was in the station to help me negotiate the over the counter meds, all packaged in Dutch, to help my girl feel better. Having found something an upset stomach, my grandmotherly savior explained our train options. It was a bad news/good news scenario. The bad news was that our anticipated, straight-through train to Amsterdam, was now a bit more involved and lengthy. The good news was, we were at a different stop than I had anticipated due to the track construction. I hadnt any idea what was outside of the station, in Rotterdam, and as it turns out, we were stopped in Europes largest port city. Right outside the Rotterdam Centraal Station is a rather posh and comfortable Hotel called the Manhattan. I couldnt see risking another hour plus of trains making Nancy feel worse. The helpful duo from the information center watched over our patient as I went to secure a room. Ten minutes later, she was in a comfortable bed, still feeling rather punk, but at least as comfortable as possible. Ten minutes after that, she was sound asleep. I took the chance to write a bit, and take a nap myself. We were checked in by 11, local time and it was a good sign when Nancy woke up about one, and said she was in the mood to try a little something to eat. I found some toast at a Bistro in the hotel. Nancy ate a piece and asked if they had soup. From the window of our room, I had been identifying landmarks, and referencing online maps, while Nancy had been asleep. I knew, just a couple blocks away, China town was bustling with Asian Markets and Restaurants. I took a quick jaunt in that direction, walking and scanning the rows of colorful buildings, trimmed in Chinese trappings. I was attracted to one small storefront, painted bright red, with yet another grandmotherly-looking woman, leaning against the inside of the front door jamb. I approached her, and asked if she had any mild soups. My-yud? She didnt understand mild. I asked if she spoke english. She put up two fingers and said, yes..yittle. I commenced a game of charades, rubbing my stomach, saying my wife was ill. Ah...you need soup, make tummy feew bettah? My thumbs up made her smile. Be wight back. She disappeared into the store. I followed. Three young, grade school aged girls sat at a back table. They were giggling, chattering back and forth with a man that I assumed was their father. He was laughing as well. It was obvious by our body language that they were teasing each other. He came over and said something to me in Dutch, seeing my immediate confusion, he asked in English, if I wanted to sit and eat. I explained I was waiting for some soup. The young girls, listening to the exchange, wanted to show off a bit, so they raised their voices so I could hear and began speaking in English. It occurred to me for a Chinese restaurant owner in Rotterdam, three languages was essential. It made me feel dumb. Moments later, the Chinese Grandma emerged from the swinging kitchen door with a package. It smelled of ginger and something I couldnt put my finger on. Back at the room, Nancy declared it delicious. It was thin and aromatic, filled with three big dumplings. In five minutes it was gone. We napped again, insuring that lunch would stay where it belonged, and by six that evening Nancy announced that she was feeling much better and was up for a little walk. We got cleaned up, and headed North from our hotel. I pointed down theChinatown street where I had found Grammas soup. The bustle that poured over that street earlier, was reduced to just a few pedestrians passing through. That section of town was obviously a daytime place. We continued north, along a perfectly straight canal. Cyclists confidently sped by, while wafts of pungent smoke would occasionally alert our nostrils, reminding us, that the rules are quite different here. We followed the distant thump-thump-thump of a bass, until the sound was loud enough, and we were close enough to see that a street to our left was shut down. A stage was alive with an interesting mix of DJs, drums, and live singers. A tall, thin man with dreds down to his waist, coaxed gentle sounds from a saxophone, while the DJs played crunchy beats and occasional scratches. A trio of round women, dressed in polka-dotted, tight, one piece costumes that highlighted ample cleavage sang Motown-like backgrounds. The music was infectious, making it impossible to not at least tap a foot or nod a head. Rainbow signs flanked the entire stage, declaring Pride, September 25, 26, 27, 28. We had happened across an event sponsored by Rotterdam Pride. The crowd pulsed with the music from the stage. I spied a temporary bar. Nancy said shed like a vodka tonic. Was she back?! I grabbed a beer. We found a seat at an outdoor cafe and decided to enjoy the music and take in the scene. Smartly dressed men dominated the picture, most in skinny legged pants and very euro styled jackets, but a collection of characters whose expressive zeal for their pride provided the most excellent people watching. Drag Queens displayed the spectrum of their art with looks from Nina Flowers to Divine. The crowd was fun, energetic, and danced and danced and danced. I felt like I was burning calories, watching. Drinks finished, we decided to find a small bite. We located a wine bar and ordered a charcuterie plate with cheese and crusty bread. The young man waiting on us suggested the truffle soup. We agreed. Of course Nancy may have agreed to any of his suggestions. He was chiseled, like a Michelangelo sculpture, so I had to chuckle when he said his name was David. He taught Nancy to say wijn is leuk, (wine is good). She swooned. Yeah, she was definitely back... We cautiously nibbled at the deliciousness of our small plates, insuring all was going down right, and staying there. A slow, after dinner stroll, taking in the sights, smells and sounds led us back to our room and an early slumber. I awakened, free of the helpless feeling I had yesterday when Nancy was feeling sick. She seemed so worried to be ruining things. But, I would take the planes, boats, and trains half way around the world to only put my arms around her and sleep, anytime. Ive spent so much time this trip feeling so very fortunate to be on such an adventure. This night, I remembered in my dreams how fortunate I am to have my wife by my side...after all, our excuse to do this trip was to honor twenty-five years of the work we put in to get it right. Though we are not to Amsterdam yet, I am under the impression Rotterdam might be considered the lesser known big brother of the City we all think of first when talking the Netherlands. It is smart, sporty, and has a heart. As I was getting Nancy the toast earlier, I struck up a conversation with a gentleman in the Bistro. His accent sounded dutch. He asked what brought me here. I told him of our change in plans, and why, and how I already liked this city. He said to me that Amsterdam is a great place to go, but the smart travelers come to Rotterdam. In the brief time we have seen it, I can say, Id love to be back here to seriously explore. So, as Yogi said, its Deja Vu all over again. Its morning, and Im anticipating taking on Amsterdam. We will see how Nancy feels when she awakens (and well be sure its not my turn in the bucket!). But, even if we were to stay here another night, we can still make lemonade.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 05:50:03 +0000