After reading the accounts of sleeping in Schoenefeld airport in Berlin, I thought I might take it up. However, given that I would be in this fair city for a good 16 hours — after having spent the better part of the day on a train (that’s seven hours, 440 miles, or 710 kilometers, depending on how you feel like counting it) — I decided to shack up one night at the Heart of Gold hostel — where I get to share a six-person room for 17 euros ($23). There’s cheap döner kebap nearby and free WiFi.
I would have stayed with John Borland, but he’s out riding the rural Romanian rails, or at least he was when I texted him as I was pulling into Berlin Hbf. I’ll catch up with him when I’m back in town on my return leg through Berlin in two weeks.
After a 24-hour journey (Oakland –> Dallas –> London Gatwick –> Amsterdam –> 2 hr train to Breda), I finally made it.
Saturday was spent, as I mentioned, eating and drinking it up in Antwerp. I enjoyed a big cone of Belgian fries as a snack, then had a hearty bowl of mussels with a serious goblet of Westmalle Trippel. Mussels here are more expensive than at Café de Bruxelles, but the beer is way way cheaper. I love how you can get beer that’s five times better than what we can get in the US for about half to a third of the cost.
On Sunday, Giselle, George and I spent the afternoon in Rotterdam, where we caught the tail end of a street market. Although George and I just snacked on a bloedworst sandwich, we happened upon a salted herring stand. For the low low price of 1.75 euros, you can get a four-inch salted herring covered in diced onions. I can’t say that I recommend it two minutes after finishing a sausage (my stomach churned a bit), but I can see how for intrepid Dutch sailors, it’s probably quite tasty.
After that, we stopped in at a Surinamese place and had spicy chicken and roti, then stopped for beers at a canalside café, then walked around a bit, and later chowed down on raw seafood and more beers. (Fortunately, George shares my appetite!)
I like the parts of the Netherlands that I’ve seen thus far, but one thing strikes me as being a bit weird: it’s bizarre how well the Dutch speak English — I mean, every Dutch person I’ve ever met speaks perfect English, but it’s just trippy going everywhere and just busting into English without anyone batting an eye. Giselle and George said that they quickly gave up on asking if people speak English after having been there about a month — because every Dutch person is somehow born with the ability to learn to speak perfect colloquial English.
Germany, on the other hand, is another story. Many people do speak English, and many people who speak a little bit of English claim that they don’t speak it at all. Fortunately my German is “good” enough to ask for really basic things — “Ein bier, bitte” — which I don’t (yet) know how to do in Dutch.
I’m off to Tallinn tomorrow.