The Virtual Reinhard
Created | Updated Mar 13, 2002
A Trip to the Beach Zaandfoort/Rotterdam/Arnhem, Holland, Easter 2001
Paul Mark and Bob came over from Blighty to go to the beach. There was a certain amount of wind, and a certain amount of rain, but it Had To Be Done, so we did it. And then, crikey, there was the whole of the rest of the weekend to fill.
After breakfast at a cafe in Zandfoort (cunningly selected on the basis of having the most attractive waitress), we upped and caught a train to Haarlem, where Adam and Christa were waiting in a bar (where else?). Leaving the others to warm up, I popped over to the tourist office to get a map of local sights, and discovered that there was in fact a local beer - Jopen - which was for sale. Erm, somewhere. I can't quite put my hands on any. Looks like we're sold out, sorry. But there's an off-licence over the road, maybe they have some...
There was indeed, and I triumphantly returned to the bar with an armful of Jopen, to discover, of course, that they sold it on tap. But never mind! Inside, I opened the map. Outside, some butterfly opened the heavens. Quietly I put the map away and picked up my beer; looked like we were staying here for the duration.
The day passed pleasantly, with much food, alcohol and friendly banter, but eventually we realised that it was time to change towns. Onward to Rotterdam, in fact, to the rather marvellous Cambrinus Belgian bar in the Old Harbour, where Otto was waiting to join us at the nearby Popocapetl Mexican restaurant, carefully selected on the basis of its incredible margheritas and attractive waitresses.
The food was, as always, tremendous, and so were the margheritas. We even got a floorshow when the fairy-lights fell off the ceiling and all the waitresses had to climb up on tables and put them back up, but eventually we realised that all the other patrons had gone home, so we obligingly went back over the road to the bar again. After all, we were feeling a bit thirsty.
Adam and I have, of course, been trying to sample one of each kind of beer in the known world, and we were excited to find that this bar had maybe half a dozen that we hadn't seen before. The evening swiftly turned to a serious beer-mat flipping contest, and it was a late night indeed when we finally got back on the train and stumbled back to Adam's flat in Utrecht.
The next day, somewhat groggily, we headed for Arnhem Zoo, one of the most advanced in the world. It is built around a valley that has been effectively roofed over with plastic, creating two microclimates, a desert and a rainforest, in which the animals and plants are given more or less free reign to do as they please. The rainforest is perfect in all except height, with monkeys swinging through the trees and alligators rustling in the undergrowth. Butterflies flit from orchid to orchid as you wander at will through the winding jungle paths. A short tunnel brings you out into the desert, with cacti springing out of the sand and goats leaping from rock to rock, and even a vulture circling overhead.
The latest addition to be built to this constantly expanding wonderland was an undersea display. A spiralling tunnel, surrounded on all sides by windows through the rock into cunningly contrived aquaria, takes you from a surface coral reef with waves lapping on the shore, down through the depths to the sea floor itself, culminating in a tremendous glass tunnel with sharks and rays swimming overhead.
Once out of the three pseudo-worlds, there was still an entire regular zoo to contend with, and before we knew it we were being turfed out of yet another establishment long after all the other punters had gone home.
Luckily, there was a last bus back into town - presumably for zoo workers - so we got on with the business of the evening, which was to find out exactly what Arnhem had to offer in the way of night-time entertainment.
It took us a little while to find the centre, but once we got there, the prospects looked good: an unbroken line of bars standing shoulder to shoulder up the high street. We selected the bar with the most beautiful barmaid and after some bar snacks reminded us that we hadn't eaten, moved on to an Italian restaurant on the basis of it's attractive waitresses. This may seem a somewhat puerile method of selecting which establishments to patronise, but when you're in a strange city and have no other cues, it makes as good a sense as any other method, and if it turns out to be a duff choice, then at least you have something to look at.
Finally, all the other customers had left, and the staff were sweeping up around us so, in the early hours of the morning, we settled up and rolled somewhat unsteadily back down to the main drag to do some serious partying. However, to our great surprise, all the bars had closed.
This is not a common feature in Dutch cities! Usually there is at least one all-night bar, or opening times are staggered so that the professional drinker never has to go home, but only in small towns and villages does everybody go home at 2am. Slightly disgruntled, we headed back for the station to nip back into Utrecht, only an hour away, where the bars are open 24 hours a day... to discover that Arnhem doesn't have night trains, either. We looked at each other, bemused, as it began to rain.
We were far too many to fit into a taxi but, luckily, we had Christa with us, who charmed a taxi-driver into going home and getting a bus and driving us all the way to Utrecht.
It was only 3am, but half the group bailed out, leaving Paul and Mark to join Adam and myself for the rest of the evening at one of our favourite late-night watering holes. We were a long way from the beach, but we'd had a fine weekend of travel, good food, fine wines, unusual beers and excellent company. What more could you ever want?
