(22nd January 2025)

Our morning port wake-up vibrations were delayed today; instead of the usual 7 am rattling, the ship’s berthing wasn’t felt until 8 am. By 10 am, we had left the MSC Preziosa, but not before a quick Google search for places in Rotterdam that we hadn’t visited before. From our cabin balcony, we spotted the tall Euromast, an observation tower designed by Hugh Maaskant and constructed between 1958 and 1960. It was built especially for the 1960 Floriade and has been a listed monument since 2010. We plotted a route to the Euromast, planning a stop at the Wereldmuseum along the riverbank, which claims to house interesting objects from around the world.

It was a cold but bright morning, with no hint of fog. From the ship, we crossed the Nieuwe Maas via the modern suspension Erasmusbrug Bridge, often referred to as ‘The Swan’. Following the riverbank opposite our cruise ship, we soon reached the Wereldmuseum. However, we decided against a visit; at €18 each, the website hadn’t inspired us enough to part with our hard-earned pensions.

Continuing our walk, we passed several small harbours where private yachts and boats were laid up for the winter. Skirting the edge of a large park, the weather began to change, with dark, misty clouds rolling in. On arrival at the Euromast, we quickly paid the €15 entrance fee and took the lift to level 7. Stepping out onto the platform, we were greeted by a brisk, chilly breeze. The 360-degree view of the city was spectacular, but it wasn’t going to last long as the encroaching murk began to blur the horizon. After circumnavigating the

lower platform, we climbed the steel staircase to the next two levels, which offered an even better, though far more exposed, panorama of the city.

With photographs taken and the first drops of rain beginning to fall in an increasingly biting breeze, we hurried back down to level 5. There, we found a restaurant that wrapped around the tower. Seated in comfy but outrageously designed chairs, we enjoyed hot chocolates and caught up on emails using the internet, all while watching the cityscape gradually disappear into the worsening weather.

Our route back to the ship took us through Het Park, often called Euromast Park because of its location. Designed in 1852 by the father-and-son team of Zocher, it features water elements, lawns, old trees, and flower beds. However, in the depths of winter, it was a stark shadow of its spring and summer glory. Nonetheless, being Holland, cyclists and joggers were making use of the park as they likely do year-round.

Back on board, we made the mistake of having lunch in the Golden Lobster Restaurant, where we were seated with a group of  Japanese fellow cruisers who spoke no English. As my Japanese is limited to “Konnichiwa,” “sayonara,” and “bonsai,” our interactions were restricted to polite smiles with no conversation.

We watched the ship’s departure from Rotterdam from the comfort of our rear-facing cabin. As dusk fell, the fog and drizzle set in. The MSC Preziosa lay berthed, facing the Erasmusbrug Bridge, under which she was far too large to pass. With the river at that point too narrow to allow her to pivot, she departed her mooring in reverse. We watched as she slowly made her way downstream, her propellers and thrusters churning up the riverbed and releasing a dark brown alluvium. Seabirds swooped and dived, opportunistically hunting for any unfortunate fish caught in the turbulent upflow.

As the gloom deepened, the river traffic lit up and frantically cleared a path for our colossal vessel. After several miles in reverse, the captain brought the ship to a halt where two large tributaries converged, creating enough space for a slow and deliberate rotation. River traffic on all sides paused, waiting patiently as the manoeuvre was completed, before resuming their journeys with evident haste. Once the mighty MSC Preziosa was aligned, her engines roared to life, and we watched our usual view of the turbulent wake disappear into the distance.

After our evening meal in the buffet, we settled into the Platinum Theatre for a mesmerising performance by the illusionist Jorgos, titled ‘Expect the Unexpected’. It was a brilliant show that left the audience questioning the reality of what they had just witnessed.

Before retiring for the night, we joined an enthusiastic crowd in the Atrium to briefly watch a bartender theatrically mixing cocktails to loud pop music and a running commentary. Despite the energy of the event, Sue and I failed to understand the appeal of such a spectacle. We left bemused, wondering aloud why such a mundane task might be considered entertaining. What next, we mused? Creating Knickerbocker Glories to the sound of rock music?