Oh, Rotterdam - the pit/pot stop. It was cold and rainy, diabolically dreary and way too wet to wear a long faux fur coat instead of a parka. I looked like a KGB racoon dying for a coffee and a Lemsip to muffle my cold or flu or whatever that was that making me feel feverish, miserable and knackered for the last 24 hours. Apart from the surprisingly cool street art and those delightful falafels we ate in Waldberg, there was nothing else in Rotterdam that made me want to stay longer. Everything was modern (no wonder, the city was almost completely reconstructed following WW2 - so it's basically Hitler's fault that I didn't find the architecture pleasing to the eye) and hard to define. A big city with big buildings, dingy coffeeshops and empty alleyways. Let's face it, we didn't have the chance or the time to explore the cultural programme; we got our share of space cakes (we should create a travel guide called "What Would Snoop Dogg do?") and got ready to drive back to Belgium, where a cosy, warm airbnb awaited.