LAUREN WALDSTEIN

I left the Netherlands through Rotterdam, where I had to go to catch a plane back to Rome because the tickets were so much more reasonably priced from there than from Amsterdam.  The train ride was only an hour long which gave me about three hours of knock-around time before getting to the airport.  I had done just enough research to find out the name of the best restaurant and the best museum in Rotterdam and since the museum was a little too expensive, I made my way from the train station to Dudok. 

Dudok is said to have the best apple tart in Rotterdam, and maybe even the Netherlands, so when I got there I didn't even have to look at a menu.  At 3.15 euro a slice, I had just enough time and money left to sit for a while, enjoy some tart, and do some light reading.  Dudok has tall, open ceilings, cobblestone floors, square wooden tables and big, rustic chandeliers.  When you walk in the door it's as if you're standing in a tiny portal with an umber colored cloth shower curtain for walls, and then you open it up and the restaurant presents itself to you.  It feels very New York and I instantly liked it.  All around people are lunching and chatting and socializing in Dutch.  The food looks delicious and satisfying - green leafy salads, fluffy omelets, bagels and lox - but all authentically Dutch.  My waiter was a cute, small guy who looks like Nick from Project Runway, but less flamboyant. 

I sat at the reading table, which is a big long table in dark mahogany wood that has magazines and newspapers on a shelf in the middle.  So while I ate my tart, I red Dutch fashion magazines.  The tart itself looked better than it tasted, which I think was no fault of the tart's and instead was only because my mom is such an excellent baker that her apple pie blows this thing away.  I was also hoping for something more like Aunt Sharon's apple crisp - warm and cinnamon-y and sweet and juicy.  Okay, back to what I actually ate.  The tart had tender apples accented with raisins and a crumbly top over a dense, buttery pie crust.  It was served cool and went down very light.  I ate it slowly, enjoying every last crumb as I flipped the pages of designer gowns draped over skeletal models.  Oh, the irony! 

At the end of my time there, my waiter asked, "Where are you from?" a little abruptly and then I said "Chicago, by way of Rome, and I just came from Amsterdam."  As I said it out loud, I had another one of those moments when I realize how totally cool it is that I get to travel like this.  His eyes sort of widened as I mentioned each city and then he said "Where to next?!"  "Back to Rome tonight and Chicago at the end of May," I replied.  To which he responded, "Maybe I'll see you in Chicago!  I want to go to the States in June and July.  You never know.  We could see each other."  "Chicago's wonderful," I said, instantly missing my city, "maybe we will see each other!  Bye!"  Then I left, walked back to the train station and took the bus to the bite-sized Rotterdam airport.