The diary of a Russian lady : $b reminiscences of Barbara Doukhovskoy (née princesse Galitzine)Dukhovskaia, Varvara
General
The diary of a Russian lady : $b reminiscences of Barbara Doukhovskoy (née princesse Galitzine)
Dukhovskaia, Varvara
Russia -- Social life and customs; Voyages and travels
As soon as we entered Holland, the landscape changed at once. We rolled
across flat expanses: all was level land. Vast fields of red and white
tulips spread before us. Black and white cows, with huge bells on their
necks, dozed in the high grass. The verdant prairies are variegated with
bad-smelling canals filled with water, on a level with the ground. Quaint
little houses with green and white shutters, that have sat themselves
close to the water edge, border the road. In the distance windmills
were turning slowly in the evening breeze, pointing their wings in all
directions and filling the air with a ceaseless whir.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
ROTTERDAM
We arrived towards night at Rotterdam, one of the most considerable
sea-ports in Holland. How helpless we felt in this strange country! We
had the greatest difficulty to make ourselves understood by the porters;
our knowledge of Dutch being nil, we addressed them in German and
English, and they answered in Dutch, which did not help us. We hailed a
cab and tried to explain to the driver that we wanted to be driven to
New Bath Hotel, and doubted somewhat whether we were understood, but
our driver replied reassuringly, making our luggage a resting-place for
his boots, and clambered into his seat. We arrived, in fact, at the
designated hotel, situated on the quay of the river Maas.
Next morning Sergy went to secure tickets for the first boat leaving for
London; there was one starting on the following day. When Sergy returned
we drove to the Zoological Gardens, the best in Europe. Rotterdam does
not inspire me; the houses are built on piles and look as if they were
all on one side, and the canals, like those of Venice, are dirty and
stinking. After the Zoological Gardens we visited an exhibition of Dutch
painters, and saw posthumous pictures said to be painted by Rembrandt.
Before returning to the hotel we drove through the park by a broad
avenue bordered with elegant villas belonging, for the most part, to
rich merchants. Dying of thirst, we drew up at a café and ordered tea. A
waiter brought a teapot with boiling water and two cups and nothing else,
and told us that the visitors had to supply their own tea and sugar in
this singular restaurant!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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