wanderlust | Sudapoedia47's Blog

Neither Venice of the north nor Petersburg’s poor cousin, Amsterdam exists in its own right. For a traveler to restrict himself to this city alone would however be a mistake. For Netherland is much more.

Four to five days being enough I moved south making Rotterdam the base to further explore the country. Also because it was economical.

Barely 40 minutes from Amsterdam, Rotterdam’s a 15 – 30 minute ride into the little towns in its vicinity: Utrecht, Gouda, Delft, The Hague. And just an hour away from Brussels.

A vibrant university town that has striking architecture, the aesthetics of the place will bowl you. Completely destroyed during WW2 it has risen phoenix like from its ashes. Beautiful, modern, avant garde. Great art, architecture, infrastructure – the hallmarks of a great city – along with international cuisine & large, green, open spaces to roam & chill. Rotterdam came as such a surprise that planned trips to Haarlem, Zaanse Schans – Zaandam were left on the back burner. For another day & time, luck permitting.

Here’s a tribute to it’s spirit.

Swan like across the Maas, the iconic Erasmus bridge.

Architect Piet Blom’s cube houses. Every cube an apartment

Past Present Future. The sculpture says it all: the future can only be built on a remembered past

Witte Huis. Historical landmark (1890’s). One of Europe’s first tall buildings that survived the war.

Easily reachable via a vast & efficient rail network little towns dotting the Dutch countryside spell magic, quiet & charm.

Say Cheese to Gouda, the most authentic of Dutch cities. To its beautiful facades, canals, courtyards and antique shops.

Thursday’s market day at the historical Cheese market, in existence since 1395. Savour different varieties of a delicacy that is soul food. From Chilli to Fenugreek to Nettles. Name it. Have your fill. Every flavour conceivable. (Impossible though it be to imagine Nettle infused cheese)

Wandering around this exquisite town under a mild September sun was heaven. Past the well preserved Town Square, City Hall, two lovely old windmills – Slot Mill & De Roode Leeuw – along the old harbour and not to be missed Cheese Museum

Tailor shop showcasing ‘The Prince of Wales’ Ostrich feathers.

Most picturesque of towns, Utrecht oozed atmosphere. A mere 20 minutes by train, the station’s a short walk to the city centre. Surrounded by a moat, 2 canals run through it. The pleasure of walking down streets spilling over with holiday makers. Of wafting down canals in the company of swans. Or guzzling beer at the many cafés lining the waterfront. A perfect example of ‘il dolce far niente’ (sweetness in doing nothing but watch the world go by).

After a surfeit of food & drink a little exercise will do. Walk up the 465 steps to the top of Dom tower to be rewarded by the most splendid of views. The belfry is said to be the tallest in the Netherlands. Tickets must be bought but heck, it’s worth it.

Keep Saturdays for Bloemenmarkt – the floating flower market. Just in case you are around.

Canal ringed Delft’s another charming town. Famous world over for Delftware – delicate, hand painted, blue & white pottery. Not only do ‘made in China’ fakes unfairly compete but sell for a song.

Delft too has atmosphere aplenty. Walking its lanes on a bright September day one felt a distinct chill in the air. Not autumn just yet but leaves were beginning to turn brown giving everything a sublime, unearthly look.

Den Haag /The Hague. Netherlands capital is located on the North Sea. Eleven kilometres of beach blessed coastline. Seat of parliament & International Court of Justice, Foreign Missions are headquartered here.

But what would you say if I told you that I visited The Hague yet saw nothing of it?

Here’s how it played out. Arrival by train, exit train station. To walk along a boulevard. Stopping for a bowl of hot Lentil soup, cheese – bread. Then strolling aimlessly along, chancing upon a park with a church. There were children playing, chasing kittens in the sun. And mothers wheeling their young. I settled upon a bench & fell easily asleep. Deep & peaceful – unmindful of the commotion around.

Catnapping in the afternoon sun. Waking up with a start in time to catch the train back to Rotterdam.

I did make it to Zaanse Schans in the end. With a ‘lil bit of luck. A ‘lil bit of luck’s all one ever needs. And pluck. The duo – luck & pluck.

I had overstayed Rotterdam quite certain it meant foregoing Zaandam. Until Lady Luck stepped in with a plan allowing time to spend half a day at will.

Flying back home I had 12 hours between hotel check out & flight check in. Ample time for that desired trip to Zaanse Schans. Time enough for a leisurely stroll through town, window shop, drink & eat at the cafés that abound. Lingering by the quiet flowing Zaan, taking in typical Dutch landscape. Old architecture – elegant green, wood houses sharing space with windmills, their giant arms slicing through the air.

An unforgettable last day of vacation.

Amsterdam’s Schiphol is one of the busiest airports in the world. Excellent rail connectivity links it to Zaanse Schans with frequent to & fro services covering the distance in less than 30 minutes.

Also, Schiphol has a 24×7 baggage deposit facility. Located in the basement between Arrivals 1 & 2. Costs € 7.60

Which is what I availed, making the most of a splendid opportunity. For ZS (Zaandam) is a must see. Definitely NOT the kind of place one should miss.

Zaanse Schams: An overview

When the rest of India was agonizing over a horrendous incident of gang rape in the national capital there was I in another metro, cruising the streets at night, alone & unafraid. That is Calcutta. Sorry folks. I cannot call it Kolkata. It sticks in the throat as does Mumbai, Bengaluru & Chennai.

As always pictures speak louder than words. India is witnessing a minor economic miracle of sorts but West Bengal continues in deep slumber. It was pretty awful even during my last visit five years ago but the level of squalor & dilapidation is now completely overwhelming & is to be seen to be believed. It is as if the city were drugged into a stupor.

The much-hyped Millennium Park near Babu Ghat resembles a locality park in any other town. One can take a ferry to Howrah from here. The swank SBI building over looks hovels & slums. But Rabindra Sangeet is everywhere, in the most unlikely of places, as if it were the panacea to all the city’s ills. Seeing some happy frolicking street kids I took out the camera to capture the moment. After all where else in the world would one get to see such happy, care free children. Their parents the very dreg of society. “ Eh Didi,” said a voice from inside the flaps of a hole in the ground, “ photo nai lena…. No pictures… yes, not even of the children…. Only if you pay for their milk “

A poor old Anglo Indian lady sits crumpled & alone at the Park Street – Ghalib Road corner inviting stares from every passer by. Catching my eye she whispers ‘ can you help me cross the street, please’? Just like that. I try to help her get up ‘ I need some food’ she says. Next to us are Barista & Café Coffee Day outlets. ‘ What would you like to eat,’ I ask. ‘Some food.’ I leave her sitting in the corner & return with a chicken & cheese sandwich. And why not? What the hell! Then hand in hand Suzie & I cross the road together to go our own separate ways.

The Hotel Fairlawn on Sudder St is a delightful place as is its owner, 92-year-old Violet Smith, an Armenian who has lived all her life in this country. Her face is creased with smiles as she greets & waves goodbye to her many guests who are all welcomed with an old world warmth & cheer.

The Fairlawn is a 2 star property having just 18 rooms. The building is around 240 year old but has been with the family for about 80 years now. It gives the feel of a home away from home & home it is to the many who come again & again from all corners of the globe.

So, Calcutta is in a state of irreparable decay. Lenin’s’ own country, now governed by a mad woman, all squalid & run down. What could one hope for or expect?

There was an art exhibition happening at the Oxford bookshop followed by cakes & ale & a lot of the paintings depicted empowered women astride what looked like emaciated tigers. But what of it? This simply whittles the issue down.

Coming out for a whiff of fresh air there are long serpentine queues outside the Indian museum. Now in which other city in India could one see anything remotely like that?

And what is that in that corner, with so many curious hangers on?

That is a fellow peddling his ware – a collection of priceless old stamps. And coins. Calcutta surely has many firsts.

December 2012

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