Walking in Venlo...After Midnight!

My colleagues at Erasmus very kindly invited me for dinner in downtown Rotterdam.  My host, Dr. Jansz, invited two other colleagues and the International Programs Coordinator, Emma, to join us at Kaat Mossel, a restaurant that specializes in Mussel dishes.

From what I could discern, this was "ware Rotterdam".  The other guests seemed to me to be "Rotterdam-Rijnmond"--from the area.  The restaurant did a steady business the whole time we were there--and this on a Monday night.

I followed the lead of one of my colleagues, David (an American whose been at Erasmus for four or five years), and ordered the mussels with tomato.  It was "erg lekker"!

The meal comes in a kettle, the lid of which is used to hold the spent shells.  The presentation is quite dramatic.

The three dipping sauces were quite delicious.

We had a delightful conversation, covering trips, wedding plans, and of course, the possibilities for partnership between our two programs.  We carried on for over three hours, and then it was time for my host to catch his train back to Leiden, a half hour trip.  Even with the prospect of a long ride home, my host kept me company as long as he could before he had to board his train.  Truly, this was a day of graciousness from all who hosted me.

As we were finishing up our evening, my hosts inquired after my travel plans.  I showed them my crazy itinerary and they started offering recommendations for how to manage the next 13 hours.  It turned out that my four hour layover was not in Dusseldorf, but in Venlo, a town in the southeast of the Netherlands on the German border.  It has a population of around 100,000, but my hosts were concerned about how I would spend my time while there.  My train was scheduled to arrive around 1:15, and my connection to Dusseldorf wasn't slated to leave until 5:05.  My new friends recommended I consider taking a slightly earlier train to Venlo so that I could slip in to a hotel lobby and wait out the night, but that didn't seem practicable.  They felt pretty confident that I would be able to just stay in the station and I thought I might put the time to good use by grading a few papers.  The old saying goes, "Man [sic] plans, God laughs."  Indeed!  My friends warned me, "Don't fall asleep in Venlo!"

After my host left to catch his train, I sat at the Rotterdam station people watching.  It was altogether very pleasant, with the one notable exception of an Alsatian who started barking vigorously just before passing me while I sat on a bench.  I made it up to the platform with about 10 minutes to spare.  The train arrived in plenty of time and, together with a few other people, I boarded.

By the time I got to Venlo about two hours later, I think I was the ONLY person left on the train--other than the conductor.  The minute I disembarked, I headed for the WC (which was not the "nicest" experience I've ever had), and then walked in to the station to settle down for the next four hours.  That was when I encountered a rather nasty shock.  The stationmaster was gesturing me vigorously to keep walking out of the station.  I balked.  I told him, "I can't leave.  I have to catch my next train at 5:05."  His reply was a curt, "You have to go.  I have to close up the station and you must leave.  I will open again at 4:30."  I asked him where I was supposed to go, and he was rather abrupt in his reply.  The undertone was, "it's not my problem," but he suggested I seek out the hotel my friends had recommended in Rotterdam.

I started out walking, and wasn't at all sure where the corner was where I was supposed to turn left.  I stopped a woman on a bicycle to inquire and she pointed more specifically in the direction where I would find the hotel.  I thanked her and started out toward the indicated site.

I brought my backpack and a very wobbly suitcase to pull behind me.  This was the same setup I took with me last winter when I was traveling through the Czech Republic, Poland and Germany.  I knew then that my "suitcase" probably wouldn't make it another trip, but the size is really quite perfect.  The problem is, it's just not that great on cobblestones--a real handicap in the old cities of Europe.

There was one other person out where I was, and he didn't inspire confidence.  He was riding a bicycle that looked to be in the same shape as my suitcase.  We both stopped frequently to adjust our wheels.  I knew, however, that our commonalities ended there.

I found the hotel, only to discover (without too much surprise) that it was shut up tighter than a casket.  My heart sank, but I thought I'd go looking for a bar.  Mind you, it was a Monday night/Tuesday morning in mid-October--not exactly a party night.  The first bar I visited (and no, I don't get out to many bars) seemed lively, but the patrons exiting the door assured me that it was near closing time and that I wouldn't be able to hang out there.  I explained my predicament.  One fellow told me he was a cab driver and that if I found myself back on the steps of the station he'd let me sit in his car.  Another fellow with long grey braids and a leather vest wished me good luck, but looked like he thought it was a long shot.

I was starting to feel a bit shaky at this point, but soldiered on to the next bar I found.  I entered and found clientele more my "style", i.e. middle-aged men and women dressed in casual chic (I'm giving myself a bit too much credit on that score).  I asked if I might stay in the bar, and the proprietress indicated that she too was closing soon.  I asked if I could stay until she closed and she agreed I could, but then promptly asked what I wanted to drink.  I said "Nothing" at first, worried that if I had something to drink I might have to find a WC, and that seemed unlikely.  No sooner were the words out of my mouth, she was shooing me out the door.  I ordered a mineral water and started to sip--which was a pretty tall order given that my chin was trembling and the tears starting to spill from my eyes.

One of the gentlemen in the bar asked me where I was headed, and at that point I lost it a little.  I told him I was off to Nuremberg to celebrate my friend's 85th birthday, and was feeling a little desperate.  He could see I was frightened and came over to give me a hug.  It was a gesture of pure kindness.  I shared a little more of my plight and he was genuinely concerned.  He was dismayed by the practice of the train station and said I hadn't been the first person so affected.  He vowed to share his outrage with the city fathers.  I felt heartened by this, but was still at a loss as to what to do once the bar shut down for the night.

As the proprietress wiped tables and cleared glasses she would shoot me a sympathetic smile, which I didn't completely believe given how quick she was to boot me out the door.  I noticed the kind gentleman talking with a woman, who seemed to be his partner.  He then came over and said, "We will take you back to our place and you will be safe."

Sometimes you just have to trust.  I could tell these two people were kind and generous.  She then came over and gave me a sympathetic hug.  I put my trust in these two wonderful strangers.  They trusted this short, chubby, middle-aged American not to be a thief (or worse) and took me in to their home.  I have never felt such gratitude.

We walked through the streets of the Venlo city center toward their apartment.  We entered their apartment and I immediately felt tremendous relief.  Aad and Hemmie are about my age, they each have two children from previous relationships.  She is a primary school teacher, he is a freelance copywriter.  They offered me coffee and an opportunity to use the internet.  Hemmie told me she had to retire to bed soon as she was planning to arise relatively early to travel off to see her mother.  Aad told me he was a night owl who enjoyed having the night to himself.  Still, Hemmie stayed up much later than she should, getting acquainted and offering snacks.  Aad asked me what kind of music I liked and played some Bach.  It turns out we both love Bach and early music.  I recommended the Catalonian singer Nuria Real, and he played two of his favorite singers performing "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring".

We talked and talked and talked.  We shared family stories and talked politics--both American and Middle Eastern.  Aad was curious about Israel and I shared what I could.

The night flew by, and all of a sudden it was 4:30, time to head back to the station.  Ever the gentleman, Aad helped me with my bags and walked me to the station.  He stayed with me until it was time for me to board my train and we said our goodbyes.

It turned in to a really wonderful meeting.  I felt blessed beyond measure to have encountered two such wonderful people.  Aad kept telling me--"when I was in America people were kind to me."  I only hope I will one day pay it forward the way he and Hemmie did early Tuesday morning.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Aad and Hemmie!