Kinderdijk and on to Rotterdam.
Kinderdijk is a UNESCO World Heritage Listed site about 8 km from Dordrecht. Here, perhaps two dozen giant windmills line up to pump from the polder, as they have for 400 years or so. We walk quickly in the freezing wind, the mills silent sentinels to the remarkable engineering of the Dutch.
Hugh lags with his camera, spotting birds in the reeds and in the air, capturing them with his new spy camera. Geese are everywhere, honking loudly as they forage on nearby pasture and forming tight v formations on the wing. Api tells us that in places farmers receive payments to accommodate them on their land and near Schipol they are shot and turned into fricandel. We joke about whose goose is cooked.
We press on to Rotterdam to an early lunch at an institution - the ball tent. Well that's my translation for a harbour side restaurant that kicked off in 1902, serving meatballs and chips. Guess what, 111 years later, it's still serving meatballs and chips. Huge plates. All well done. Hearty. Service good when you can get their attention. Rich adds a Straffe Hendrik tripel beer to lunch, because he is on a diet. Api cannot finish the fritte. If you know Api, this is a telling statement.
I hereby nominate this establishment for UNESCO world heritage listing for its cultural and social significance. Can someone in the Dutch government do the paperwork please.
After this we visit Delfshaven, a historic part of Rotterdam. For us, it is distinguished for two reasons. It is the birth place of Sylvana's beloved Opa. And it is one of the few places that the Germans and the Allies did not bomb the crap out of in the Second World War. Bad aim, we have concluded, not any generosity of spirit.
From here, we return to Dordrecht, to digest our Ballen and to plan a pub crawl, Hugh, rich and me.
But that's another story.
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