HOLLAND/UK 06/2025

After arriving in Rotterdam, exhausted from an early morning flight (3:50am start) and an unexpectedly broken-down train that forced me to switch to an Uber—there was only one place I could think of: JAFFA in Rotterdam.

It had been at least 35 years since I’d last been there, back when I was vacationing and working in Holland as a young lad and teenager! Walking through the doors again after all that time felt surreal. What made it even more special? Knowing it was halal. Some things are just meant to be. I had the JAFFA Beef Shawarma - It was delicious and just as it was with the exact same flavour 35 years ago, just WOW!

After the first port of call to JAFFA, I strolled around the city that afternoon with a glimpse of the all shops and food and what I wanted to come back to. I headed towards the Markthall and also tried to see if the Dutch army shop was there, but sadly it wasn't, it was gone. I kept going and low and behold the Markthall was right in front of me. I didnt go in at first because after that delicious Shawarma, I wanted something sweet and I think I really earned it. 

No trip to Rotterdam is complete without a plate of traditional Dutch Poffertjes, those warm, fluffy little pancakes dusted with powdered sugar. The next stop had to be SETH. Just a regular portion of poffertjes—those soft, buttery little pancakes—and they were incredible. I scraped off most of the powdered sugar, but let’s be real: they were still sweet and perfect.

After completing my beloved poffertjes visit, I made my way to the Markthal—drawn by the vibrant energy and sheer curiosity of what I might find. There’s something so freeing about traveling solo—no negotiations, no need for permission—just the joy of wandering wherever your heart leads.

Eventually, I began making my way back to the hotel. Another exciting day awaited me tomorrow, and it was time to wind down. A long, refreshing shower, a moment of stillness, and then some much-needed shut eye.

Day two of my trip started with something special—I turned 48! Alhamdulillah! After a relaxed and very tasty breakfast at the Bilderberg Park Hotel (which is super close to the city centre), I headed out to explore the city again. The streets were just starting to wake up, shops slowly opening around 10 a.m., and there was that familiar energy in the air that I love. It was the perfect mix of calm and anticipation—the kind of vibe that solo travel gives you, especially in a place that means a lot to you.

My first stop was the Feyenoord Store. I was hoping to score a good deal or maybe find something new. I’d had my eye on a water bottle, but it turned out to be too small and for kids. The green jerseys were on clearance, but unfortunately only in 2XL and up—not even close to my size. I wasn’t in the mood to buy just to buy. I already had enough Feyenoord gear at home, so I moved on and headed toward the Blaak area.

That’s when I started thinking maybe I’d go for a Dutch national team jersey instead. I found a sports store and climbed a steep staircase to the second floor. A friendly staff member helped me out, and they actually had the jersey I wanted. But then I saw the price tag—€100. That was way more than I’d budgeted for. I already had some custom Nike Oranje gear at home anyway, so I passed and carefully made my way back down the stairs and back out into the fresh air.

Not long after, I got hit with the smell of fresh stroopwafels—warm, gooey, made right there with real Gouda caramel. It was amazing. But I’d eaten about just over an hour ago, and I wanted to pace myself a bit on my birthday, so I resisted besides its.... ahem burnt sugar! 

From there, I strolled over to the Rotterdam Markthal. If you’ve been, you know it’s a food coma santuary—and kind of impossible to walk through without getting something. So I treated myself to my first Patat Bram Ladage of the year. Those chips… golden, crispy on the outside, fluffy inside, with that rich creamy mayo on top. I sat on a bench just outside in the sun, holding my little paper zakje patat, feeling really really content. The sun was shinning and people came and went, bicycles wisked through the empty market pavement area and the blue sky and a few scattered clouds hung over me with delight.

Honestly, it was one of those moments that just felt full-circle—sitting there in the city that shaped me so much growing up, on my birthday, eating the food I love.

I wanted to give the old Dutch army store another search to see if it was still around—but sadly, it was gone. A bit of a letdown, but I kept moving. On my way back toward De Bijenkorf, I remembered I needed a pair of swim trunks for something coming up next week.

After a quick wander through a couple of escalator rides, I ended up back in the basement. I had to ask where the men’s swimwear was, and sure enough, I found it. They had a solid selection, and I picked out a sleek, black-and-gold pair of BOSS trunks—modest, reasonably priced, and exactly what I needed. I paid, stepped back outside, and was hit by the growing buzz of the city. Things were really picking up.

I swung by a few more stores, like RAY-BAN and also CASTORE and picked up a nice easy grey sports bag-pack for the small bits and pieces I picked up on the way during my shopping quests in Rotterdam.

Checking my watch, I realized I was just shy of 12,000 steps—and figured that totally justified a second lunch. On my walk back toward the hotel, I noticed a cozy-looking spot called SIJF. That name instantly caught my attention—it had a piece of my own name in it: YU-SIJF. That was all the sign I needed.

I grabbed a seat and ordered a perfectly toasted tuna melt—the kind of sandwich that just hits right. Every bite felt like a warm hug. I followed it up with a slice of classic Dutch appeltaart with whipped cream. It was everything you’d want it to be: warm, spiced, and comforting in the best way.

As I sat there, recharging and taking it all in, I felt that quiet moment of reflection. Something was coming… I could feel it. And this lunch? It felt like the calm before the next chapter.

As the afternoon light stretched long across the Dutch streets and the hour edged closer to 5 PM, I knew it was time. Time to return to the hotel and gather my luggage, carefully stowed away since morning thanks to the kindness of the staff—one of those small gestures that eases the rhythm of a traveler’s day and opens space for freedom.

What I didn’t know then was that the coming hours would shape the emotional pinnacle of my entire journey to Holland. A memory not simply made—but relived. A loop closed. A boy’s dream revisited by the man he had become.

To feel it as I did, take a moment to explore the HOEK/STENALINE Photo Gallery—because sometimes, joy escapes the boundaries of words and lives instead in glimpses, angles, and light.

It all began again with a 40 minute B-Line Metro ride—from a quiet station near my hotel, humming through the soft hush of late afternoon, out toward Hoek van Holland. It was calm, almost meditative. I carried the silent anticipation of someone about to walk through a familiar dreamscape. And when I arrived at the Stena Line Port Terminal, early as always, I was the first foot passenger to check in. The very first. The terminal was still settling into the evening. Time stood still.

The walk from passport control to the ship was long—stretched across echoing corridors and bridgeways—but every step felt like part of a sacred ritual. I knew what was coming, but still, when I caught sight of her MV Stena Hollandica a burst of pure joy escaped me. I grinned. I giggled. I was no longer just a man boarding a ship. I was that boy again, wide-eyed and weightless, stepping onto something vast and magical. On my birthday, no less.

I made my way to my cabin 10-320 on Deck 10 (I actually got lost finding my cabin as I initially thought it was cabin 10-230), but I did finally find it, opened the door and was absolutely euphoric with the cabin size and layout, enough floor space to pray and enough bathroom space to make ablution, alhamdulillah! I prayed, paused to freshen up, and then was drawn—like a tide—to the viewing decks. The wind was fierce, wild and cleansing, threatening to snatch my cap and my thoughts alike. But I stood there, letting it sweep across me, but needed to be careful not to get swept away. A man holding his drink and others struggled too. The sea air filled my lungs and cleared away the static of everyday life. It reminded me why I love the ocean, why I’ve always loved to travel this way—on water, where the journey itself becomes the destination.

After soaking in the wind from all directions, I returned to Deck 9, to the comfort of the lounge. From there, I ventured into the Plus Lounge—a pre-booked treat I had gifted myself—and to my surprise, it was nearly empty. There I sat, front row, aboard the MV Stena Hollandica, watching the ship’s bow stretch toward the Rotterdam skyline as the light began to fade. It was surreal. It was perfect. Dinner followed with a premium tempura-battered fish and chips with mushy peas, eaten slowly as the world softened into twilight. 

The ship’s departure was set for 10 PM, so I had just enough time to take it all in. I then headed back out on Deck 9 to view the U-turn departure and sailing past the long tide breaker separating the port entrance of Rotterdam and Scheveningen Beach. The sun dipped low, casting deep orange reflections over the water as city lights blinked awake. In the distance, I could just make out Scheveningen Beach, and the soft gleam of Rotterdam’s cityscape etched against the horizon.

At around 9:45 PM, I felt the ship stir—the deep, gentle hum of the engines engaging. The final vehicles and passengers were aboard, and the port grew quiet behind us. Despite being summer, the crossing was not crowded. The lounges were peaceful, filled with the calm murmur of passengers settling in for meals or quiet moments.

I took one more stroll through Deck 9, now adrift in the stillness of departure. The duty-free shops had opened just after we left port, so I wandered in, hearing the bottles chatter, while picking up a few small souvenirs—and, on a whim, a new pair of in-ear cheap wireless headphones for the cabin and future journeys.

As the ship glided further into the night, I began to feel the gentle sway beneath my feet. That motion—the slow, soothing rock of sea travel—was deeply familiar. And just like that, I was transported. The rhythm stirred memories long stored away: of childhood awe, of dreams born under salt skies. It was all coming back. And it was wonderful.

Back in my cabin, I changed, I prayed, I lay down, and let the hum of the engines lull me into rest. The room dimmed. The sea whispered outside. I watched a little television and then surrendered to sleep on my crisp white fresh bed-sheets and a single thin duvet, carried by waves and memory alike.

That day, that crossing, that feeling—was not just unforgettable, it was a long anticipated dream and granted blessing. Alhamdulillah!