We are on our return trip.
The return journey is not nearly as nice as the outward journey, because there were no staterooms left.
We are merely travelling club class, like ordinary peasant travellers, and very rubbish it is as well.
Nobody came rushing over to greet us when we drove on board and we had to make our own way up to our cabin. There are no dressing gowns and no armchairs.
The armchair bit did not matter because we got on board and instantly became so drunk in the Sun Deck bar that when we went back to our cabin we both passed out, and it was fortunate that Mark had set an alarm for dinner or we would still be unconscious even now.
The getting drunk was very nice, though. We had some cocktails called Old Fashioned, and some nuts which had been specially coated in something to burn your mouth, paint stripper perhaps.
Hence this is a rather sleepy diary entry which may be cut short. It might also be cut short because there is not very much internet access on the boat and I have got to switch you off soon.
We have spent the day in Rotterdam. I was about to say Exploring Rotterdam, but really we did not explore very far. Actually we walked around the docks and stared and stared at everything.
This is an amazing place.
There are lots of blocks of flats, all of which seem to have been built on the principle of making the observer feel mildly uneasy about their continued verticality. They are the sort of buildings which are bigger at the top than at the bottom. One of them had a pronounced lean, and a large stick which was presumably propping it up.
Every one was festooned with balconies, almost all of which had little gardens on them. The bottom flats had made a serious commitment to their gardens, and flowers and grapevines tumbled over every wall.
We walked and stared. After a while my neck hurt so much from constantly swivelling about that I had to sit down quietly for a little while and just watch the barges chugging up and down.
They were surprising as well. We stood on a bridge and watched one going underneath. There is a little engine bit, like the cab of a lorry, and the barge bit just fastens on to the front and gets shoved around. The one that we watched had a little house built into its cab, with a garden and a car parked on it, so it must have been somebody’s way of life.
We walked for miles, staring at everything.
When we had got so far away that we would have missed our ferry if we had to walk back, we went down to the water’s edge and got on a water taxi.
We had been watching these enviously, and it was every bit as splendid as we had hoped.
The taxi driver was much friendlier than I ever am, although probably it helped that we were not drunk and abusive, and he told us proud things about the wonderfulness of Rotterdam. Then he drove us across the bay at a staggering high speed, bouncing and splashing, and we were back at our shipboard hotel in about five minutes. It cost ten Euros and was worth every penny.
After that we had a cup of coffee and drove away, reluctantly, to find the ferry.
We have set sail, and tomorrow we will be back in England. Indeed, probably the next time you hear from me I will be back on the taxi rank, all adventures over and quiet tranquillity restored.
The world of foreigners is an exciting and enchanting place.
All the same, it will be good to be home.
