After a quiet couple of weeks we decided to head down to Rotterdam for a day out. Rotterdam was completely flattened during the Second World War and during its re-construction it seems that every whacky architect on the planet has had a hand in its re-design.
The Markthal is one huge psychedelic dome, an amazing combination of retail, eating, living and office space in the Rotterdam Blaak district, an area which is already home to an eclectic mix of buildings. Opposite the Markthal are the cube houses – a honeycomb of dwellings designed in the 1970’s by the architect Piet Blom, together with a hexagonal apartment block in the style of a pencil, and the city library, which for anyone who has been to Paris, is reminiscent of the Pompidou centre with its vivid yellow external pipe-work.
Beneath the brightly coloured murals inside the Markthal there are a variety of eateries and food-outlets; you can embark on a culinary journey around the globe, eat your way from China to Mexico, Spain to Turkey. There was even the opportunity to sample the delights of vegan-land. The student daughter, visiting for the weekend, was very impressed with the chocolates.
Traditional Dutch offerings were also on display – albeit with a twist. My eye was caught by a wedge of blue cheese, and I don’t mean blue as in Stilton, I mean blue as in sky-blue, all over.
‘Its’ lavender pesto,’ the stall-holder replied when I enquired what magic ingredient gave the cheese its unusual colour. Of course. Lavender pesto. I should have guessed.
Below the foodhall there is a large Albert Heijn supermarket (just in case you prefer to buy your cheese cheese-coloured) together with a car-park. Hugging the outside, apartments. It’s a vast, innovative space.
Despite all the exotic dishes on offer we played boringly safe and lunched on frites before heading out off on a short tram ride to the other side of town, and the Euromast, a 185 m observation tower.
On arrival we were told that unfortunately, the glass elevator to the final 85 m was currently out of bounds. We could only go up to the observation platform at 100 m high. That was fine by me. At a blustery 100 meters up there’s a restaurant and also a couple of hotel rooms. The views are fantastic – we could see north to the Hague, and west to the vast Europort, where Mr T very enthusiastically pointed out his oil refinery, and of course, we could also see through the plate glass full height windows straight into the hotel room.
As I watched the maid scattering rose petals on the double bed, presumably in preparation for some unsuspecting guests, I thought, no, a night at the Euromast is a bit like that bright blue cheese. Not for me.
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